ABSTRACT
Tony Lukas came into our lives in October 1976, unexpected and unbidden. Colin took the phone call in the dining room of our shabby Victorian. “My name is Tony Lukas,” said the unfamiliar voice. “I’m writing a book about busing in Boston.” The stranger explained that he was a writer and former reporter, that he was looking for three families to profile in his new book, and that mutual friends had recommended that he call us. Colin recoiled at the unwanted intrusion:
