Larry Hartmann

New York & Merton 1958

Born in Vienna in 1937, Larry Hartmann and his family emigrated to Paris and then to Switzerland before arriving in the US in in 1941. Hartmann studied at Harvard before going to Oxford to read for a second undergraduate degree in English literature. Returning to the US, he attended Harvard Medical School and then made his career psychiatry, seeing child and adult patients and teaching at Harvard Medical School. Hartmann is especially noted for his pivotal role in the American Psychiatric Association’s (APA) landmark decision in 1973 to remove homosexuality as a diagnosis of mental illness from its diagnostic manual. From 1991 to 1992, he served as President of the APA and he has been involved with many other psychiatric organisations, including serving on the Steering Committee of the the National Committee of Concerned Psychiatrists and as President of the New England Council of Child Psychiatry. This narrative is excerpted from an interview with the Rhodes Trust on 27 October 2025.  

‘I grew up in a household that was very stimulating’ 

I was born in Vienna. My father came from a well known social democratic family and my mother became a paediatrician and mountain climber. When Austria welcomed the Nazis, my parents, who detested the Nazis, moved to Paris when I was one, so I spoke French before I was speaking anything else. My father was a psychoanalyst, a pupil and analysand of Freud. My parents moved to Switzerland and then to New York, where my mother also decided to become a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst. I grew up in a household that was very stimulating, and my brother and I were lucky to have educated parents who could land on their feet after changing countries a few times.  

I was sent to some good schools where it was not considered a bad thing to learn and to be bright, and I’m grateful for that. Alongside my academic work, I did sports, some singing, some theatre and some community work. In the summers we would go to places like Cape Cod and Maine, and in 1949, my parents took us back to Europe where they were having meetings as internationally connected psychoanalysts. We went to Paris and Switzerland and Venice, and that was marvellous and gave me a foothold in Europe again.

On applying for the Rhodes Scholarship 

I enjoyed college. One of the things that doesn’t get reported enough about good colleges is that they are full of bright, interesting, challenging and ambitious students trying themselves out. I majored in history and literature, and I played tennis and took part in some theatre. I became the drama editor of The Harvard Crimson. I decided I wanted to prolong my undergraduate years somewhat, even though I thought I would go on to medical school. So, I applied to several scholarships, including the Rhodes. Back then, the Scholarship was totally male and mostly white, and now, when I get the annual notification, it’s changed a lot, and that’s a very good thing. Nowadays, Rhodes Scholars tend to major in all kinds of very useful things for the world, like the environment. We used the Scholarship much more as a stepping stone, a way of continuing a generalist education before getting on with a career, and I don’t think we felt our choice of subject was as decisive as people seem to now.  

‘I didn’t face the same class barriers as my British friends’ 

I loved Oxford. It was strange. I expected it to be very much a continuation of Harvard, and the fact that there were differences was, of course, part of what my education was all about. As an American, I didn’t face the same class barriers as my British friends, and it was fun to be an outsider in that way. I played soccer and tennis for my college, and it was a luxury being able to play on grass courts, because the US had so few. I was interested in theatre and went to various outdoor productions in Oxford, and I found the architecture of the colleges and the gardens very beautiful and interesting. I was also fortunate to have letters of introduction to two friends of friends of my family. One was the Oxford Professor of Poetry in those years, who was W.H. Auden. He was extraordinarily educated, a very interesting, provocative person. And the other was Sir Isaiah Berlin, the philosopher and historian of philosophy, and he was sharp and critical of everything.  

I had chosen Merton partly in order to study with Neville Coghill, who had translated Chaucer and who had also taught Auden. But he had just moved on to a university professorship at a different college, so I was taught by Hugo Dyson, a very good and stimulating tutor, and he also sent us to other tutors. In those days, you had to learn Old English and Middle English, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about that. However, I did learn them alongside one of my Rhodes classmates who went on to be the most famous Rhodes Scholar of my year, and that was Kris Kristofferson (California & Merton 1958).  

‘It took some work, but the change happened’ 

I thought I would probably go to medical school and be a psychiatrist and a psychoanalyst, because it combined art and science and human beings, and I knew from my family that it was intellectually stimulating. I had been admitted to Harvard medical school before I went to Oxford, and they allowed me to return and take up my place there without applying again. After I finished, I was a pediatric intern in California, and then a psychiatric resident at Harvard’s Mass. Mental Health Center. I stayed on at Harvard Medical School as a faculty member and I was there for pretty much 50 years or so as a psychiatrist member of the clinical professorship and staff at Harvard.  

I’m perfectly aware of Bernard Shaw’s brilliant comment that those who can, do and those who can’t, teach. Well, I always thought one should do both. I tried out different kinds of teaching and invented some techniques of play therapy, because sitting there as a psychiatrist looking wise and interested won’t get you very far with children. Most of my life was doing clinical work with children, adolescents and adults.  

I also tried myself out as a public figure. I’d learned that although some things were terrific in psychiatry, some things weren’t fair. For example, the four women were each being paid almost a thousand dollars less per year than the men, so I got all 25 of us to sign a letter to the training director asking him to equalise our pay, and after that, I lobbied for a pay increase for all of us. I was able to work with the prisons in Massachusetts and I got the Psychiatric Society to volunteer labour so that psychiatric consultations would be available in prisons.  

As part of the Committee of Concerned Psychiatrists, I worked with others to try to change the leadership of the American Psychiatric Association (APA), because at that time it was a rather conservative organisation. We used the existing processes to change the composition of the board of trustees, moving the organisation away from one that cared most of all about the income and safety of the profession and towards one that was much more attuned to mental health prevention, teaching and treatment. We had a lot of anger about the Vietnam War, about women’s issues, about black issues, and it happened that in those years there was also a big issue that I cared about that was ripe for change, and was that the APA had labelled gayness as an illness. With the more socially active people who had been elected to the board, we were in a position to say that the APA’s official position was harmful to more people than it was helpful to. It took some work, but the change happened in 1973 and it turned out to be a very big and powerful change. At that time, we came up against a major problem, which was that you were not allowed to be gay and a psychiatrist. Very different from now. I was not open about being gay as fast as my long-term partner would have liked, as fast as some young people today would have liked, but it took a sense of timing as to how open you could be.  

So...I have spent most of my life’s work seeing patients and teaching, but I spent a quite unusual amount of my work life also doing public psychiatry, changing the view of homosexuality, changing a lot of human rights issues, including in the Soviet Union and South Africa and Chile. I wanted to work on those issues even though I wasn’t getting paid for that. 

“Did you ask any good questions today?” 

Freud in one of his late comments to an encyclopaedia more or less described the essential elements of mental health as work and love. I would add friendship and play, and I also recommend curiosity. I also enjoyed the story that a wise old biologist told in old age: he said that in his childhood, when he got home from school,, his mother would ask not....‘Do you want some more milk? Do you want some more cookies?’ but, ‘Did you ask any good questions today?’ I’m not sure that I can offer words of wisdom to today’s Rhodes Scholars, but I can say, enjoy things that you value and work at things that you value.

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