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firmed that, in its wisdom, Columbia had reviewed its waiting list and decided to single me out and pluck me from the waiting arms of NYU. Columbia it would be. In an act of psychological self-protection, I had put Columbia out of my mind, but I preferred it to NYU for reasons that probably had to do with prestige (certainly not location). The choice might also have related to the fact that my cousin Peter had grad- uated from Columbia Law in 1965, had done very well there (he was an editor of the Columbia Law Review, a post based wholly on superior aca- demic performance), and might, I reasoned, be an excellent person to teach me how to navigate that school.
As it was August, much had to be done: Bring great disappointment to NYU and great joy to Columbia by informing them of my plans (no problem), see Peter (no problem, but ultimately of no great help), and find housing at Columbia (huge problem). Columbia and NYU were phone calls and simple letters, Peter was a lunch, and housing was an unmitigated disaster.
At lunch, Peter told me that the key to his success was that he typed his exams (as a former law school professor who struggled through fif- teen years of grading handwritten exams, I can attest to the wisdom of that advice, but I doubted that I would be much of a typist, especially under time pressure); that he carefully “briefed” each assigned case by typing the facts, the procedural setting, the issue, the result, and the court’s reasoning (good advice, tried for most of the first semester, before the steam ran out); and that the first year was critical (absolutely correct, especially if you wanted to go to a law firm, as law firms hired associates out of their summer programs, which were stocked with students who had produced excellent first-year grades, probably by carefully briefing each assigned case and typing their exams).
But before I actually started attending Columbia, I would have to have a place to live. As it was already August, Columbia had none to offer, but—yay!—it did have yet another waiting list, this one for hous- ing openings. My parents would not underwrite an apartment in scary Manhattan. I don’t blame them, as rents were far from cheap. Besides, I
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