The Chronicle of Higher Education: From Rock ‘n’ Roll Stardom to Academe
By INGRID NORTON
How do you top the thrill of playing at Woodstock? By going to graduate school, of course.
Just ask the members of Sha Na Na, who were the penultimate act at the legendary 1969 rock festival, in the slot just before Jimi Hendrix. Of Sha Na Na’s 12 original members, eight went on to get advanced degrees. The musicians, who blended doo-wop choruses with blazing dance moves, formed from a Columbia University a cappella group in the late 60s.
Beneath the group’s retro varnish, Sha Na Na’s story mirrors its generation’s: Square teenagers come to college from the suburbs and promptly trade in turtlenecks and stiff dance moves for shimmying, getting girls, and hanging out at clubs. As the decade recedes, they come back down to earth and rejoin the establishment, becoming lawyers, academics, and doctors.
“I don’t think I ever went to a rock concert till I was in a rock concert,” says Rob A. Leonard, a founding member and, today, a professor of linguistics at Hofstra University.
Sha Na Na was the brainchild of Rob Leonard’s brother, George, who was working on his Ph.D. George J. Leonard, now a professor of interdisciplinary humanities at San Francisco State University, wanted to revive 50s innocence through doo wop, making it avant-garde. He became a Svengali, teaching members dance moves and impressing them with his older girlfriend and Lincoln hard-top convertible. Sha Na Na’s first shows in 1969 were a sensation. By the end of summer the group had a gig at Woodstock.
“After that, my college experience was completely abnormal,” says Bruce C. Clarke, a professor of literature and science at Texas Tech University.
Members balanced lives as rock stars and students by taking classes that met in the middle of the week and touring on extended weekends. Rob Leonard, who would later do years of research in East Africa, originally took Swahili because it was the only introductory language class that didn’t meet on a Friday. Rich T. Joffe, who got a Ph.D. after leaving the group but is now an antitrust lawyer, remembers reading an introductory economics textbook on an airplane while the rest of his severely hung-over bandmates tried to sleep.
As time went on, performing took its toll. Rob Leonard started falling asleep during a 10 a.m. linguistics class; Mr. Clarke recalls skipping a party to read Rilke in his hotel room.
Slowly, members peeled off, pursuing separate paths. Mr. Clarke put himself through his first few years of graduate school with money he’d saved from tours. Alan M. Cooper, now provost and a professor of Jewish studies at the Jewish Theological Seminary, wondered if he should go back to the band when he couldn’t find housing at Yale graduate school. They all watched as the band took on new members and grew, starring in a variety show and appearing in the film Grease, which hit theaters 30 years ago this month.
All agree that Sha Na Na shaped them professionally. Mr. Cooper still relies on his performance instincts when he teaches. George Leonard calls his bandmates “the best students I ever had.” Musing on how Sha Na Na influenced him, Rob Leonard says, “Well, you can’t escape rock and roll.”
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