I first met Larry Moss in 1964, when we were both 19 years old and undergraduates at Queens College in New York City. Someone observing the circumstances of our meeting would not have been likely to predict that a 40-plus-year friendship would ensue. Having recently become entranced with the writings of Rand, I was searching for like-minded students when I saw a notice about an upcoming lecture on the topic, Ayn Rand's Theory of Sex, sponsored by a group calling themselves for a Free Society. I had never heard of the group but the topic was irresistible, so off I went at the prescribed time to find other fans of Miss Rand. The talk was given by a young man named David Glauberman, who it appeared to me had very little regard for either Rand or her theory of sex. After listening for about 10 minutes, I got up in a huff, turned on my heel, and marched out of the room so as not to give moral sanction to such a disrespectful discussion. I didn't get far, however, before I was stopped by the president of the group, one Laurence S. Moss, who attempted to prevail upon me to return. I shouldn't take the talk too seriously, he explained, because they just chose that topic to try to entice students to come and be exposed to ideas. After all, what undergraduate wouldn't want to hear someone talk about sex? I had never heard the word libertarian before, and though I thought their means of spreading their message was somewhat underhanded, I was intrigued enough to attend future meetings to learn more about this alien political philosophy. To understand just how improbable this incident was, one has to have an idea of what Queens College was like in the 1960s. The school was started in the 1930s by the City of New York as a tuition-free institution of higher learning to serve those academically talented young people who might not otherwise afford to go to college. Soon after opening, it was nicknamed the little red schoolhouse--and not because of the color of the brick buildings. In the 1930s it was suspected of being a hotbed of communist sympathizers; by the 1960s it was less politically extreme, but nevertheless still dominated by the political left, both on the faculty and in the student body. This was New York City, after all. In 1964, Students for a Democratic Society was just beginning to develop a campus presence, but conservative or ideas were almost unknown and, when recognized, routinely reviled. Yet here was Larry Moss, against huge odds, and with youthful optimism, starting a club to provide a counterweight to the dominant leftist ideology. This was a heroic undertaking. On a campus whose student body numbered in the thousands, leftist-radical speakers could fill the student union to overflow capacity with little or no effort, but the average attendance at an SFS meeting was in the single digits. Larry, however, was not daunted. He truly believed that if he could just engage the left in an honest dialogue, ideas would win out. Larry's willingness, even eagerness, to enter into debate with those with whom he disagreed was one of the most distinctive features of his character, even then. He was a tireless debater and would discuss ideas for hours on end with anyone who showed an interest. While in those days the student left was developing a strategy of marching and rallying and sometimes shouting down the opposition, all that seemed undignified, even childish, to Larry. Instead of marching and shouting slogans, he argued, one was far better off spending precious college years reading, studying, and debating, so one would be prepared to make a difference in the long run. My respect for Larry, the intellectual crusader willing to engage opponents in debate at the drop of a hat, did not blossom immediately. That first semester of my involvement generally found us on opposite sides of current issues. When I met Larry, I thought of myself as a student of objectivism and as a political conservative. …