My only interaction with President Goheen during my undergraduate experience came inside Marsh’s, the former drugstore on Nassau Street. It took place in May 1970, and if the man were mortal, he probably was there to pick up antacids. I have no recollection of why I was there, but I walked down an aisle and saw who it was. He looked up, saw a bushy-haired type who was not unlike those probably making his day-to-day life a living hell, and I braced myself for a probably well-deserved dismissal. Instead, he gave a warm smile and asked how I was doing with a palpable sense of interest.
Twenty years later, maybe even to the day, I was at Obal’s Garden Market on Alexander Road and saw President Goheen talking with young Walter Obal. After their conversation was finished, I approached President Goheen and told him about our previous encounter. I explained to him that of all the things I had learned at Princeton, his demonstration of grace under pressure was by far the most valuable lesson.
A few years ago, I read about the en masse appearance of the Class of 1889 at former President McCosh’s house to have their diplomas, already signed by the new President Patton, additionally signed by their revered former president who had retired after their junior year. Isabella McCosh’s comment — “James, your lads are nae for forgettin’ you” — struck a chord. Entering with the Class of 1972, I’d had to repeat my last semester and thus graduated with the Class of 1973, getting a diploma signed by the new president. So I called up President Goheen, told him my sad story, and asked whether he’d be willing to pull a McCosh. He was, I went to his house, we sliced open the back of the frame and extricated my diploma, he signed it right above “William G. Bowen,” and we got it back into the frame, which now hangs on my study wall. It is, obviously, even more of a treasured possession.
This lad is nae for forgettin’ him — ever.