Why Should White Guys Have All the Fun? by Reginald Lewis Page B

incredible calm came over me and the plan began to emerge. First, have a tremendous final year in college; second, know the objectives of the program; third, break your ass over the summer, eliminate all distractions—nothing except the objective. The program was held over two four-week semesters: during the first semester, say nothing about going to Harvard. First, prove that you can compete; for example, take a difficult course at Harvard College during the summer and do well. Second, do the job. Build upon your strengths. This was the brief and I’ve never executed better.
    Lewis left Baltimore for Cambridge in the summer of 1965. Over the course of the next eight weeks, he followed his “brief” to the letter.
    Lewis and his fellow participants tackled law school subjects such as civil procedure, torts, criminal law, and contracts. They also took at least one course at Harvard’s regular summer program that was unrelated to legal education.
    The highlight of the program was a mock trial where students took opposing sides. Lewis stood out. Almost thirty years later, Professor Sander still recalls being impressed by Lewis’s self-assurance and argumentative skills.
    “He rose to the occasion. When he did the mock court thing, we all thought, ‘This guy is going to amount to something. He’s got a real drive and energy and fight and insight.’ He stood out among those students,” Sander says.
    “I was rated either No. 1 or 2 out of the 40 or 50 outstanding students who competed that summer,” Lewis wrote.
    As at Virginia State, his instructors were definitely aware of his presence, although this time their impressions were uniformly positive. It gave him the foundation he needed to move in for his closing argument: An appeal to be admitted to the law school.
    Lewis met with Sander at a small, nondescript restaurant on Battle Street, not far from Harvard’s campus. Also present was James McPherson, another summer program student who had already been admitted to the law school. McPherson would later become a Pulitzer Prize-winning author.
    Lewis, dressed in his customary shirt and tie, walked into the restaurant and purposefully took his place at the lunch table where Sander and McPherson were waiting. He ordered chicken pot pie and, virtually ignoring his lunch and McPherson, launched into a forceful, eloquent argument outlining why Reginald Lewis should be admitted to Harvard Law School. For the next hour or so, Lewis masterfully ticked off his positive characteristics and delineated the myriad ways an association between Reginald Lewis and the law school would be mutually beneficial. His appeal was based primarily on reason and irrefutable logic and was devoid of wheedling or whining.
    His argument flowed freely and naturally. As far as Lewis was concerned, he was dealing from a position of strength. Harvard really did need someone as unquestionably gifted and destined for great things as he. He had an unswerving, total commitment to the product he was selling—Reginald Lewis.
    In spite of his intensity and the high stakes, Lewis was loose and relaxed, because he felt he had nothing to lose. The worst thing Sander could say was, “You’re not going to be admitted,” which was already the case.
    There had never been a summer law program for minority students before 1965, so Lewis was the first and probably the last program participant with the chutzpa to argue that the program should be a launching pad for admission.
    Sander listened attentively, giving no indication one way or the other of being swayed by the glib, confident, aspiring lawyer. After lunch, Lewis left the restaurant, disappointed at not having gotten an affirmative response on the spot. He loved to win, but could cope with his plans going awry—as long as he’d expended maximum effort.
    He maintained this attitude throughout his life. In later years, when one of Lewis’s two daughters would bring home an average grade from school, Lewis