5/5 - (1 vote) Before applying to college in 1963, I spent several weekends visiting prospective schools in Ohio and Pennsylvania. I had already heard a lot about Smithson College from my first cousin, Fred who was then in his senior year and full of stories about wild parties, road trips, and other mayhem. As a scholarship kid, he lived inexpensively off campus by renting a room from a widow who worked as a children’s librarian in the public library. In exchange for a modest rent and help around the house and yard, Fred enjoyed the benefits of a normal...
