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Two years ago, when the trustees approved of Dartmouth going coed, Robert Fish, 76, of Los Altos, Calif., wrote the Alumni Magazine to say that he was all for the controversial decision and Actress Shirley MacLaine was the sort of woman he hoped would enroll. Moreover, he added jokingly, he'd be honored if Shirley would guide his wheelchair at his 55th reunion. When Fish turned up at Hanover, N.H., with the class of '18, who should be getting an honorary doctorate but Shirley MacLaine. Fish observed after she had wheeled him around: "A gallant lady."
It was a coup for Cavett: coaxing Actor Marlon Brando into his first TV interview. Dick promised that the taciturn actor could talk about his favorite cause, the American Indian. He did, and he also brought on a Cheyenne, a Paiute and a Lummi. Cavett wanted to hear about Last Tango in Paris ("I haven't seen the movie," muttered Brando) and The Godfather ("I don't want to talk about movies"). So the evening went. Later, on his way to dinner with Cavett, Brando got into a row with Ron Galella, the peskily persistent photographer whom Jacqueline Onassis had to fend off with a court order. Galella asked the actor to take off his dark glasses for another photograph. "No," said Brando bluntly, then swung with a right to the jaw. Galella fled to a hospital for nine stitches and a brace. The next day Brando was also admitted—for an infected right hand.
Decrying today's omnipresent pornography as "sly," the speaker at the American Booksellers Association convention in Los Angeles said he preferred obscenity because it is more "forthright." In fact, "pornography is killing sex." Not too surprising remarks from an octogenarian, except that the speaker happened to be Henry Miller, the granddaddy of the erotic novel (Tropic of Cancer). Skinflick Star Linda Lovelace, a fellow author (at 22 she has already written her autobiography) disagreed: "Sex was dead and films like Deep Throat are bringing it back to life."
No one at the reunion of Princeton's class of 1963 attracted as much buzzing attention as the pale, thin alumnus in a tan summer suit. Well-wishers from the class of 1948 stopped by to shake his hand, but conversation stopped short of his two days of Watergate testimony. Hugh ("Duke") Sloan Jr. was selling his house in Virginia and taking a job with the Budd Company, a manufacturer of transportation equipment in Philadelphia. "What was there to do?" he asked. "I would have just looked as if I was out there trying to slay dragons." Earlier in the spring, Sloan had submitted his picture for the class yearbook, a posed gathering of his parents, his wife and the Nixons outside the White House—a fitting photo to illustrate Princeton's unofficial motto: "In the Nation's Service."