Picture yourself back in the 1930s. The river’s newly dammed, and McKinlock Hall has just risen as a grand brick monument in honor of Lieutenant George Alexander McKinlock Jr., a Harvard grad who gave his life in World War I. Freshmen shuffle in, their shoes echoing off the entryway steps. Back then, this house consisted of just McKinlock and what’s now called “Old Quincy”—though Quincy House has since laid claim to it like a college student snatching the last slice of pizza at a dorm party. Within McKinlock Hall, imagine five arching entryways, labeled A through E, each leading up four or five floors to cozy suites for 35 students. For decades, each entryway had its own stairwell—one door in, one door out—just like the Hogwarts of Harvard. If you failed to remember which door was yours, well, I hope you liked new friends and long walks around the building! That all changed in 2014 when they modernized the place with hallways, so the real magic became... not getting lost. By the 1960s, Harvard decided the riverside could use some vertical ambition and built the now-iconic twelve-story towers. On a clear day, the south-facing rooms deliver jaw-dropping views of the Boston skyline and Charles River. You might say Leverett students have the city at their feet—or at least, at their window. That quirky oval window you see in McKinlock? It belongs to the famous Iliad Suite, which comes with a tale as juicy as any epic. Once, residence in the suite was decided by a House-wide wet t-shirt contest. But after Radcliffe women joined the House, students raised their voices, and the contest was—aptly—scrubbed away. Now the suite goes to the “Most Attractive” senior group, chosen by popular vote. Leverett’s always been a house both traditional and a little bit rebellious, wouldn’t you say? But every house needs a heart, and here it’s the dining hall, buzzing with chatter and the aroma of fresh monkey bread—that’s cinnamon-sweet, baked goodness that attracted students like moths to a lamplight. If you ever wondered why some undergrads look just a little rounder come exam season, now you know! Now, let’s turn up the drama a notch. Throughout its history, Leverett has been led by an intriguing cast of characters. Its namesake, John Leverett, was Harvard’s president from 1708 to 1724, a bold rebel who was one of the first non-clergymen leaders at Harvard. He stood up to the formidable Mathers—think of it as a Puritanical showdown—and refused to sign away Harvard’s independence to a new charter demanding biblical loyalty. Thanks to Leverett, Harvard stayed on course while Yale tried to elbow in on the Ivy League action. Its Faculty Deans’ stories are legendary. One master, Richard T. Gill, literally sang his way out of Harvard to join the Metropolitan Opera—clearly proving there’s more than one way to “make it” in the arts. Another, Kenneth Andrews, helped steer Leverett through Harvard’s embrace of coeducation, showing that good business sense really does make the world go round—even in academia. Of course, not everything’s been harmony and song. In recent years, there’s been a bit of a tempest under those iconic rabbit-haunted banners—students questioned the leadership, traditions were juggled and sometimes dropped, and the winds of change blew, occasionally with a cold edge. But the latest Faculty Deans, Eileen Reynolds and Daniel Deschler, keep the legacy jumping along. Some famous faces have passed through here: John Roberts, Pete Buttigieg, Jeremy Lin, Cornel West, and even the legendary cellist Yo-Yo Ma, who once served as Leverett’s music tutor. Imagine hearing your morning scales drift through these walls! Keep an eye out for the three “rampant hares” on house emblems, a nod to the Leverett family’s historical hobby—training ferrets to chase rabbits out of burrows. Don’t worry, Harvard students are much harder to catch. Whether you see black and yellow, red and black, or even green and yellow on t-shirts, that’s Leverett pride.
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