Jose Ferrer '33 and Professor Uwe Reinhardt

Posted August 21, 2017

I've never met Dr. Reinhardt, a very famous professor at Princeton University, so this adds to the irony of the story. Dr. Reinhardt is one of the leading medical economists in the country, and I have read his material on occasion. But this story really begins many years earlier. 

When I was in medical school,  a fellow medical student I used to date invited the cast from "The Man From LaMancha" back to her studio apartment on St Paul St for a cast party. They all came, including Jose Ferrer, the star of the show. He also was Princeton, class of 1933, and had starred in Triangle shows at Princeton. I had graduated from there in 1966, and remembered seeing his pictures on the wall at McCarter Theater, the student theater on campus, and in the basement bar (The Tap Room) of the Nassau Inn. Note: Jose Ferrer is not to be confused with Mel Ferrer who also attended Princeton.

At the time, I was driving my racing car on the street illegally. It was a 1,500 cc MG-A without a top, and it had no bumpers. It had 75 fp (75 F production class) in a big circle painted on each side, and a heavy duty roll bar. As I was trading Princeton stories with Jose, and he looked out the window, to see my car. He told me he always wanted to drive a race car, and asked me who owned the car. I told him I did, and offered to let him drive it. We raced around the streets of Baltimore at 2 AM, until the inevitable happened. We were stopped by the police, and I quickly got out of the car to explain to the police officer that it was Jose Ferrer driving and to ask for a favor. He gruffly said--"Yeah right" and then shinned his flashlight on Jose. He then said, "Oh my God, you are my wife's favorite actor. Please give me your autograph, and put down, ‘best wishes to Mary’." Needless to say, José got off.

 

Many years later, when Jose died, the Princeton Alumni Weekly ran a wonderful story on him, and his theatrical successes.  I then wrote a letter to the editor, describing the above event, to show how unaffected the man was, and they published it as a letter to the editor. Then Professor Uwe Reinhardt, a professor unknown to me,  wrote a scathing letter to the editor several weeks later, saying that my story was just a perfect example of how the rich and famous get special treatment, and attacking the entire American legal system, and plutocracies in general.

 

At the time, I was president of the Princeton Alumni Association of Maryland, and we had monthly speakers. The next month, after the acrimonious attack on me by Uwe Reinhardt, the speaker in Baltimore was the Dean of the Woodrow Wilson School at Princeton, where Uwe is a professor. I told the dean the story and asked if Uwe had a sense of humor. I also asked if he would like to play a trick on him. He replied yes to both. 

 

I then sent a letter to the Dean with a copy to Uwe, said that I had enjoyed our past conversations, but as the result of Dr. Reinhardt's attack on me I was withdrawing my commitment to donate $1,000,000 to the Woodrow Wilson School. Of course, I no more had $1,000,000 to donate than Don Rumsfeld has a sense of humor, but the dean was in on the joke, so it worked. 

 

Within 2 weeks, I received the most apologetic and cloying letter from Uwe, asking me to reconsider withdrawing my donation.  I responded to this letter, by tell him about the joke, telling him of my impecunious state, and also pointing out that, in deed, the wealthy do receive special treatment, as he most amply demonstrated by his response to me. 

Ever year, for the next 10 years, I received a Christmas card from him, usually dealing with health care issues in the United States. 

Great story. The fastest I ever hit on the road was when I still had the 300 SL Gullwing. I was in my second year of med school. It was 2 in the morning, not a car on the road, and I just had to open it up. I got to 140 mph, so I didn't have time to react to the county cops on the side of the road. Knowing full well that radios were faster than cars, when he gave chase, I dutifully pulled over. I fully expected that he wouldn't give me a ticket, but take me out and shoot me. 

As the cop approached, I opened the gullwing door. The cop was about my age 23 or so, and the first words out of his mouth were "wow that is cool. This is the first time I have a chance to open up my cruiser all the way. What it this?" 

I explained (this is 1968 now) that this was a straight six full injected Mercedes, with only a 183 CI (a three liter engine), compared to his 440 CI Chrysler. His jaw dropped and he said "I don't believe you. Open it up." So when I opened the engine compartment, and he counted the spark plugs, and after I explained why there was no carburetor, we talked some more. 

Then he told me to keep it down, and took off...not even a warning ticket.