Before I settled into more studious behavior at Boston University, I led a sort of half-life. Half in my old folkie dissipated style of living, half in the mode of trotting off to classes, writing papers, and taking exams.
It may have seemed as though I flit about Boston University's world my first two years there.
In 1963 I had been expelled from high school in New York. I spent more time in the coffeehouses of Greenwich Village than in class. Present any of my colleagues from the 1960s with a photo of me in front of a class teaching; they'd have told you it was absurd, laughed, and walked away. But, there I was in a tweed jacket, khaki pants, blue oxford button-down shirt, and regimental striped tie.