When he first came to the school, he took a proprietary sort of interest in me right away which I will admit I found condescending but also oddly gratifying—as though he recognized in me what the trustees had not been able to. We often lunched together and talked at length of the great models for schools like Chelsea, the public schools of England and before that, in the distant past, the academies of Rome.

“There’s nothing like it, Jerry,” he said as he cut vigorously into his breaded chicken cutlet. “These boys might complain, but in the end, they’re going to have an immersion in a culture that is going to make extraordinary men out of them. There are very few who have that. Very few indeed.”

I greatly enjoyed these lunches. After all, some of my happiest times had been spent in the company of men, particularly men who used their minds and push me to do so as well—my lost friend Vaughn in college, Ted Fox here. Unfortunately, as Fox’s tenure grew longer, our lunches became fewer. He had many obligations both out of town and with local alumni, so I began to see him less and less, though he always waved cordially when he saw me on campus. When he asked me to join him on this trip, I was both surprised and pleased. The way in which he asked me was characteristic of his general frankness and straightforward nature. He summoned me to his office, looking up from a morass of papers as I entered. “Please have a seat,” he directed. As I sat, he began talking.

“As you know, Jerry, it’s my job not only to maintain Chelsea as a first-rate boys’ institution, but also to create a student body that is rich and diverse in ways that aren’t just financial.” He laughed slightly. “We have to do better than we’ve been doing. Some of our outside funding depends on it. As our only black faculty member, you are pivotal to our efforts to recruit more black students, as you always have been. I know you’ve been reluctant to participate in this sort of direct recruitment in the past, but I want to invite you to join me for a meeting with black alumni that we’re having in New Haven next week. I need you, Jerry. I need you for the health of this initiative and of this school. Can I count on you?” His gaze was direct and unwavering.

I sat in silence for a moment. Then I spoke. “Are we having this conversation solely because of the color of my skin?” I said.

“Of course not. You’re a veteran here and one of our most valuable and respected faculty members,” he replied. “This is something we must do, and I want you to be a part of it.”