OK y'all I have one for you
It was the fall of 1972, winter was at the door every morning chilling legs, noses and the resolve to get to class. Ralph Nador was stumping his latest controversial subject, and he had stopped off at Wellesley College. That evening Alumnae Hall was filled to capacity, and the seniors, class of 1973, were having fun testing his brains and his wit. Applause had been polite. He had railed against everything from hot dogs to hydrocarbon emissions from cars. Then he went after any chemical form of birth control. When he hit this last topic, it hit a nerve. Earlier, the freshmen of Beebe Hall had been wondering aloud this particular weekend, in this the hippie era of "free love," if any of them could make it to graduation as virgins, and, if not virgins, at least not the unthinkable, pregnant. A few passing upperclassmen and seniors chipped in a few comments here and there. Now here was the time and place to speak up in earnest!
The Pill was lamblasted from the lecturn for all it's ills. The seniors were on their feet, railing at him as much as he at them. The history of back alley abortionists was brought out by the history majors, the tenets of all religions debated by the philosophy and religion majors, the financial repercussions of unwanted pregnacies discussed by the economics majors. The Poli-Sci majors were practicing their future policitic prose at the top of their form about the social ills that befell unwed mothers and their human rights. He parried every thrust they could make, efficiently and fast, critique and comment flowing fast and furious on this touchstone subject.
Finally, in desparation, one senior stood up, one we all knew was probably going to valedictorian that year. Loudly she educated him, "Mr. Nador, you just don't get it. Some women would put just about anything in their mouths not to get pregnant."
A full 45 seconds of dead silence. 60 seconds. Then...
.....Pandamonium. Sheer pandamonium, raspberries, catcalls, whistling, cheering, raucous applause, and such a stomping of feet as Alumnae hall had not heard even at the last barn dance held there. The grand old hall's balcony shook with such motion, girls started pouring out into the stairwells, and still the stomping went on.
To his credit, Nader didn't turn too purple in the face, though I'm not certain he ever said another word that night except "Good. Night. Ladies.".
