The Harrad Experiment

by Robert H. Rimmer

  “Tonight, without guidance and without preparation, you will begin to live in close proximity to a member of the opposite sex. At the beginning, you’ll have to make your own adjustments to this situation. Next week our required course in ‘Human Values’ will meet daily five times a week, here in the Little Theatre, directly after dinner, from 7:00—8:00 P.M. We may later shift this to an afternoon schedule, depending on how your courses at the various colleges and universities in this area jibe with an afternoon time slot.

  Right after this meeting you will pick up your appointments, which have been arranged with the various colleges that you will attend. For the remainder of the week you are going to be busy with your prime responsibility of developing your own personal program of study. Practically all of you will be taking advanced placement courses, but in no case should you overextend yourself. The course in Human Values which is the only required course at Harrad, is a stiff one. At the same time you will be expected to maintain in your other scholastic studies the same high standards that have permitted you to participate in this unique project. If any of you have the idea that your four years at Harrad will be an indolent sexual picnic, you had better resign now. The thought has actually occurred to us that you will be so busy we are not even sure you’ll have time for sex.”

  Phil waited for the laughter to subside, and then continued. “Now, the problem of transportation. Realizing that we are a commuter based college, we have permitted all students who have automobiles to bring them to Harrad. We have forty-six cars available for one hundred students. Working cooperatively, we should be able to pool transportation and get everyone to classes on time. By Saturday we will announce car-pool arrangements.

  “By this time you may have met your roommates. Margaret and I expect yowls of protest from some of you; first, because there have been no formal introductions. Keep in mind that if you were attending a regular college and living in a dormitory you would meet your roommate of the same sex without formality. We feel that this is the easiest way for rapid adjustment. Second, some of your may wonder how and on what basis you were selected for roommates. Let me tell you that Margaret and I, through our intense documentation on each of you, probably know more about you than you know about yourself. In a sense, at least temporarily, the faculty of Harrad is a composite parent choosing one possible mate for you, and doing this with more knowledge of you as a person than you yourself or your parents have. If you question our choice, we ask that you bear with it through the first semester. Many ideas you now have are going to change rapidly. However, we want you to know that there is no rigidity in any aspect of our program. It will be possible for students unable to make an adjustment to form their own splinter groups, and room alone, or if available, live with a member of their own sex. We are betting this won’t happen, but we are not overlooking the possibility that it might.

  “Because of your overall intellectual capacities, I assume you are all well aware of the hows and wherefores of human conception. But after this conference, you will all please pick up a copy of The History of Contraception, by Norman Himes, at the bookstore. This is a very detailed study from the earliest known history of man’s attempts to prevent birth. While the book is about six hundred pages long, we expect you will read it within the next week and be ready to discuss it in our first conferences in Human Values.

  “Ultimately, we expect you will have normal sexual relations with your roommate, therefore we want to reiterate a basic concept of Harrad. Hexterosexual relations among strangers is a very nonsatisfying relationship. Even though you may be living in dose proximity, we actually assume that a love requirement (in a wider sense which will become clearer to you as the year progresses) will occur concomitantly or prior to any actual sexual relationship. Again, this is a personal matter and we simply want to make you aware of the pitfalls. With the present day knowledge of birth control methods available to you, and with the complete knowledge that we will give you of their use, there is no need for any of you to have fear of unwanted children.

  “Moreover, we believe that until you finish Harrad College, you are all, without exception, too young to enter a monogamous family relationship. In a sense, you are the vanguard of future generations who, we believe because of the world population growth or explosion, as the press calls it, will be required by law to limit your progeny. The act of sexual intercourse will, if human beings are to survive, be an act largely of pleasure and emotional depth, and not one devoted to irresponsible procreation.

  “We are fortunate in having attached to the staff of Harrad, Tom and Sandy Jelson, and Doctor Anson Fanner. Dr. Fanner does not live on the grounds of Harrad. He is an M.D. whose practice is in Cambridge. Dr. Fanner will discuss contraceptive techniques with you as a group and will be available for individual consultation with your roommate for specific methods to fit your own emotional needs and personalities.

  “Tom and Sandy Jelson are a nationally famous husband and wife team who are in charge of our Physical Education program. They are also thoroughly familiar with contraceptive techniques.

  “One of our responsibilities at Harrad is to maintain a sound mind in a sound body. Because we have accepted you in good health, we plan to keep you that way. One hour of Physical Education is compulsory daily. The hour you choose, or you and your roommate choose together is up to you. In our long experience in dealing with high L.Q. students, we do not believe we can put Phys. Ed. on an honor system. We are fortunate in having on the Harrad grounds a fine gymnasium with a large indoor swimming pool. The pool and the gym will be open from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M daily. Each student will have a time card assigned to him and must punch in and out daily. A minimum of one hour daily five days a week will be expected, and the only excuses will be on the basis of ill health or for female students during the time of their monthly period. Incidentally, Mrs. Jelson will maintain for each female student a complete record of her periods. This record will not only help students avoid obviously fertile periods in their sexual contacts, but will also quickly reveal any female who is overdue. Naturally, we hope this won’t happen, but if it should, we have limited arrangements for married students. Of course, if all of you decide that you must immediately have children, then the Harrad Experiment will come to a rapid conclusion. The next four years of your life is not the time to have children. It is the time to prepare yourself for a responsible marriage.

  “One other aspect of the Physical Education program will tie in with our seminar in Human Values. All sports, exercise, and swimming in the pool will be done in the nude.”

  Phil stopped talking, and grinned at the gasp of disapproval from the female students. “My lecture is over. For those who are shocked, I can only say that we are not nudists, per se. Nudism as a society or a way of life would be inconvenient. But we must face the fact that man took to clothing to keep warm and for personal adornment. You will find the gym well heated in the winter, and you’ll be very comfortable without clothes. From a psychological aspect, we feel that it will prove extremely healthy for you to view each other calmly and objectively as naked human beings.”

  That was Phil’s lecture. Actually there was a lot more, but if I keep going I’ll fill this notebook in a couple of days.

  I wonder what Sheila is thinking about? I’ll bet she’s scared to death. All the kids were raving and kidding at dinner, but Sheila didn’t have much to say. We’ve been in the room for over an hour and she hasn’t said two words. It’s eight o’clock. Within a few hours one of us has got to make the move to go to bed. I’m not going first. I’m going to sweat her out. I’ll bet a dollar no man ... boy? ... has ever seen Sheila in her birthday suit.

  How did such a prim broad ever get herself into such a predicament? Maybe her mother thought this was the only way she’d ever get a man. Well, you’re elected, Stanley Kolasukas. Yeah, elected; but you don’t have to take office. Nothing in the Harrad rule book says you have to go to bed with your roommate. How the devil did they ever pick us for roommat
es, anyway? The only thing that I can figure that we have in common is that we are both the silent type.

  Well, it’s my luck. There’re fifty other girls enrolled in this mad paradise. Some of them are really stacked, and I get Miss Prim-Dim for my one and only. Maybe she wouldn’t be so bad if she wore a little lipstick. I wonder what’s under that droopy sweater? It wouldn’t fit tight on an elephant. She has a nice face, though... big sad brown eyes. Hells bells, why get myself in a stew over a dame? I’m not really convinced, anyway, that this mad Utopian idea of living with a girl will ever work.

  I was in love once, I guess, with Joan Austin. When we did it that night on the couch in her family’s playroom it wasn’t much fun. Joannie was scared to death. Hurry ... hurry, she said, and she didn’t want to look at me while I fiddled with that damned rubber. Well, I guess a man is no beauty ... his prick red and kind of ugly looking ... and then I was inside her, and I guess it hurt her. And then wham I came, and Joannie was crying, and I was telling her that I was sorry, and then we heard her father and mother drive into the garage, I was scrambling into my pants, and holding that sad little balloon filled with a teaspoon of what had been in me, and now was just as much trouble outside as inside, and I finally crumbled it in my handkerchief, and somehow there we were playing a phonograph record and saying hello to Mr. and Mrs. Austin, as if nothing had happened, and I was agreeing that it was late, and Joannie should be in bed. Then I was saying goodnight to Joannie and telling her that I was sorry, and she was saying that it was all right, but we would never do it again ... would we? ... until we were married? and I was wondering as I took the bus home, was that all there was to it? You got married just for that? I didn’t feel any better ... or any worse, than if I had jerked myself off. But the damnable thing was that the next day I didn’t feel so depressed and was ready and eager to get Joannie’s pants off again, if I could ... which I never did. So what does it all add up to? How did a man get put together that he drives himself nuts to get his prick buried into a girl’s snatch and when he succeeds neither of them ... the man or the girl ... think the result was worth the effort. I wonder what it is really all about?

  Across the room Sheila is probably thinking the same kind of thoughts I am writing. I’ll bet, if we could just talk about it and really say what we think and feel we could find the answers ... or maybe understand. What the heck? In a couple of days classes will start. My schedule for honors work in History and Government is going to go a long way to keep my mind off sex and girls.

  One thing I can say is: Phil Tenhausen has made it abundantly clear that he and Margaret will be willing to discuss any problems of sex and love but they are not going to be concerned with any student at Harrad who cannot maintain a top academic standing. Like one of the fellows said at dinner. “It’s a conspiracy. Harrad hands you the lollipop on a stick, but if you start to lap it or enjoy it too much they’ll snatch it right out of your hand.”

  I stopped writing last night at this point because right out of the dear blue sky Sheila started to talk. I guess that I might as well try to write down the conversation, because it was a lulu. I wonder if Sheila is doing the same. Be fun someday to read what she is writing. Like two authors given the same plot and out come two different stories.

  “Do you think that I am kind of a drip?” Sheila asked.

  I guess I blushed. I’m wary of this kind of mind reading.

  “How can I say? I only met you this morning,” I said. Might as well stall and see where this was going. “You look just like any other girl ... you know, girl as distinguished from boy.”

  “That’s just it.” Sheila sighed. “Nothing special. Now, you take you. You’re the dreamboat type. You should be groaning out gooey love songs to all the teen-agers. You’d be a big hit.”

  “I don’t sing ... only croak,” I said cheerfully.

  “Well, if I had been doing the matching at Harrad, I’d match up the beautiful and the homely separately ... seems more logical and less likely to cause problems. I’d have matched you with that blonde girl ... Beth Hillyer. She’s really a knockout.”

  I really felt like agreeing with Sheila, not because I think I’m any Hollywood type, but rooming with Beth did seem to have its advantages. But being brought up with four older sisters has taught me that you shouldn’t always agree with a woman on questions of this kind.

  I said: “You look all right to me. You’ve got a pretty face. Maybe because you wear your hair so tight it makes your cheek bones stand out. Anyway, you know what the song says: “Always marry a woman uglier than you!”

  I guess that wasn’t very tactful, and it made Sheila kind of mad, because she stopped talking for a while. Finally, to break the silence which was getting a bit thick, I said: “Look this idea of having a girl for a roommate is all right, I guess ... and probably will be an interesting experience, but it isn’t throwing me. I’m lucky to be here. My family are poor Polish people ... couldn’t afford to send me to a school for dog catchers. I just happened to win a Carnsworth scholarship ... all expenses paid. The Tenhausens talked me into Harrad. I’m here to learn enough so that I don’t have to go to work sticking nuts and bolts on automobiles like my father. If my old man knew what the set-up was at Harrad he’d probably say: “Why in hell do you want to live with a woman at eighteen? Time enough to suffer when one hooks you and you get married.”

  Sheila smiled. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe after four years of living with girls a man might decide its better never to get married. I don’t know how boys can stand girls, anyway. I don’t like girls much. Most of the time I don’t even like myself.” Sheila paused. “What do you think of this journal idea anyway? Are your writing about me? Will you let me read what you have written someday?”

  “Not on your life,” I said grimly. “What’s more, I think we’d better make some rules.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything in my desk is private. Anything in my dresser is private. Half of that bedroom closet belongs to me, and you keep your stuff in your half. My bed is the one next to the wall.”

  “Would you like to draw a chalk line across the room?” Sheila asked sweetly. “While you’re at it, your rules for me apply to you in spades ... plus, when I undress and get ready for bed, you stay out of the bedroom until I’m in bed. In the morning you can dress first ... and I can assure you I won’t look ... and that bathroom is private. When I’m in it, you can stay out. No visitors.”

  “Okay, settled,” I said, “but what are you going to do about Physical Education. I won’t have to peek then!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What were you doing? Sleeping this morning? Didn’t you hear Phil Tenhausen? He’s read all the Utopias; Plato, More, Campanella. He’s putting their ideas into practice at Harrad. One hour of Phys.-Ed. is compulsory at Harrad ... Greek style ... everybody bare ass.”

  “Oh yeah,” Sheila said, “Not for this gall I’m not stripping in front of a lot of men.”

  I shrugged. “Seems kind of unfair to you, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll see Beth Hillyer in her birthday suit.”

  “Oh ...” Sheila said. She looked uncomfortable.

  FROM THE JOURNAL OF SHEILA GROVE

  September, the First Year

  Sheila Anne Grove. That’s me ... born eighteen years ago on March 12th. Astrologically, I am a fish swimming upstream and downstream at the same time. In other words, I don’t know whether I am coming or going. I guess that’s a fair enough statement to sum me up for the first eighteen years.

  I know a couple of things. I’m rich ... well, not a millionairess, although I may well be if Daddy doesn’t leave the rest of his loot to his second or third wife. Anyway, on my eighteenth birthday he put five hundred thousand dollars in my name. I guess Daddy figures by the time he dies he may have been through a few more wives, and this might have the effect of dividing up his wealth considerably. Since he earned all his money himself by founding the Gr
ove Oil Corporation, what he does with his money is his business.

  The second thing I know is that no one in this whole damned world loves me. According to some of the psychology books I’ve read, believing this entitles you to a front seat in the nut house. But not me. I don’t care.

  My life is pretty fouled up. Mother divorced Daddy when I was twelve. She couldn’t stand two things about him, his desire to get rich no matter what ... and the richer he got the more women he thought he could go to bed with. Daddy told Mother that it really was too bad she was divorcing him, because he loved her. But Mother’s idea is that you can only love one person at a time. So, she married a nice homey man who takes her fishing in a rowboat and builds all kinds of jig-sawy things in his œllar workshop. Harold Tripp is his name, and he is an accountant of all things in the eastern division of the Grove Oil Corporation. As Mrs. Tripp, my mother, has presented him with two boys and a girl in their six years of marriage. Either they like babies, or Harold has never heard of contraceptives. It is likely, however, that my Mother is responsible. She likes babies. She couldn’t do much about it married to Daddy, who was too busy making money to want a family. My guess is, I was strictly an accident.

  I have a room in the Tripp’s home when and if I want to live there. But I feel like a fifth wheel, a living contradiction to the lines framed in the front hall, which read: “Let me live in a house by the side of the road, and be a friend to man.” Such a poem would irk Daddy, who puts his trust in money.