Both young men (we can no longer refer to them as children, pronounced Grandmother Cabot) had been looking forward to college. After an energetic summer of tennis and golf, they were ready get down to more serious pursuits, William started work on the day he anived in their new room on the 'Gold Coast', a considerable improvement on their small study at St. Paiil's, while Matthew went in search of the university rowing club. Matthew was elected to captain the freshmen crew, and William left his books every Sunday afternoon to watch his friend from the banks of the Charles River. He covertly enjoyed Matthew's success but was outwardly scathing.
'Life is not about eight big men pulling unwieldy pieces of misshapen wood through choppy water while one smaller man shouts at them,' declared William haughtily.
'Tell Yale that,' said Matthew.
William, meanwhile, quickly demonstrated to his mathematics professors that he was in his studies what Matthew was in sport - a mile ahead of the field. He also became chairman of the Freshmen Debating Society and talked his great - uncle, President Lowell, into the first university insurance plan, whereby students leaving Harvard would take out a life policy for one thousand dollars each, naming the university as the beneficiary. William estimated that the cost to each participant would be less than a dollar per week and that if forty per cent of the alumni joined the scheme, Harvard would have a guaranteed income of about three million dollars a year from 1950 onwards. The president was impressed and gave the scheme his full support, and a year later he invited William to join the board of the University Fund Raising Committee. William accepted with pride without realising the appointment was for life. President Lowell infonried Grandmother Kane that he had captured one of the best financial br - ains of his generation, free of charge. Grandmother Kane testily replied to her cousin that, 'everything has its purpose and this will teach William to read the fine print.'
Almost as soon as the sophomore year began, it became time to choose (or to be chosen for) one of the Finals Clubs that dominated the social landscape of the well - to - do at Harvard. William was 'punched' for the Porcellian, the oldest~ richest, most exclusive and least ostentatious of such clubs. In the clubhouse on Massachusetts Avenue, which was incongruously situated over a cheap Hayes - Bickford cafeteria, he would sit in a comfortable armchair, considering the four - colour map problem, discussing the reperr - ussions of the Loeb - Leopald trial, and idly watching the street below through the conveniently angled mirror while listening to the large new - fangled radio.
During the Christmas holidays, he was persuaded to ski with Matthew in Vermont, and spent a week panting uphill in the footsteps of his fitter friend.
'Tell me, Matthew, what is the point of spending one hour climbing up a hill only to come back down the same hill in a few seconds at considerable risk to life and limb?'
Matthew grunted. 'Sure gives me a bigger kick than graph theory, William.
Why don't you admit you're not very good either at the going up or the coming down? They both did enough work in their sophomore year to get by, although their interpretations of 'getting by' were wildly different. For the first two months of the summer holidays, they worked as junior management assistants in Charles Lester's bank in New York, Matthew's father having long since given up the battle of trying to keep William away. When the dog days of August arrived, they spent most of their time dashing about the New England countryside in 'Daisy, sailing on the Charles River with as many different girls as possible and attending any house party to which they could get themselves invited. In no time, they were among the accredited personalities of the university, known to the cognoscenti as the Scholar and the Sweat. It was perfectly understood in Boston society that the girl who married William Kane or Matthew Lester would have no fears for her future, but as fast as hopeful mothers appeared with their fresh - faced daughters, Grandmother Kane and Grandmother Cabot despatched them unceremoniously.
On April 18, 1927, William celebrated his twenty - first birthday by attending the final meeting of the trustees to his estate. Alan Lloyd and Tony Simmons had prepared an the documents for signature.
'Well, William dear,' said Milly Preston as if a great responsibility had been lifted from her shoulders, 'I'm sure you'll be able to do every bit as well as we did.'
'I hope so, Mrs. Preston, but if ever I need to lose half a million overnight, I'll know just whom to call.'
Milly Preston went bright red but made no attempt to reply.
The trust now stood at over twenty - eight million dollars, and William had definite plans for the nurture of that money, but he had also set himself the task of making a million dollars in his own right before he left Harvard. It was not a large stun compared with the amount in his trust, but his inherited wealth meant far less to him than the balance in his account at Lestees.