A diary of the tumultuous days at Columbia

Sunday, April 28, 11.30 a.m.: I head up 116th St to campus. It is quiet, as though the protests of last week never happened. There are no police cars. A few journalists are setting up on the traffic island on Broadway. Outside the gates a small group of Orthodox Jews, in fur hats and leggings, hold up placards denouncing Zionism. One of them is being interviewed by a TV crew. Only in New York.

A bad omen

Monday, April 29, 2 p.m.: In through the 117th St gate for my last class of the semester. Campus is peaceful and there are graduating students in their gowns and others sunbathing under the trees. A thickset man from Allied Universal Security Services comes out of Low Library; it seems a bad omen. We read Stendhal's fabulous "Life of Henry Brulard." After, I wander down the steps of Low Library. The university administration has issued the students an ultimatum:...