Things have been a little quiet on this Western Front of late, so it seems fitting to return to the page with a word on silence. And friendship.

The following is an adapted extract on the moving backstory to the Simon and Garfunkel song, The Sounds of Silence, in which Art Garfunkel’s former college roommate reveals an untold story of friendship, courage and love. It also shines a poignant light on the song’s opening lines: ‘Hello Darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again.’

Sandy Greenberg is Art Garfunkel’s best friend. And in his memoir he discusses how the singer’s selfless love gave him reason to live again when he suddenly lost his sight, and gives the rest of us a lesson in what friendship means.

Sandy and ‘Arthur’, as Art was known then, met during their first week as students at Columbia University in New York. They became roommates, bonding over a shared taste in books, poetry and music, and although still teenagers, they made a pact to always be there for each other in times of trouble. They had no idea their promise would be tested so soon. Just months later, while at a baseball game, Sandy’s eyes began to cloud over and his vision fail. Although the medical diagnosis was conjunctivitis, glaucoma had destroyed his optic nerves. Sandy was blind.

His impoverished family, living in upstate New York, were not in a position to help him financially and so he gave up his dream of becoming a lawyer, dropped out of college and was plunged into depression. And then, unexpectedly, Art flew in, insisting that he return to his studies, reminding Sandy of the pact they had made. Together they returned to Columbia University, where Sandy became dependent on Garfunkel’s support. Art would walk Sandy to class, bandage his wounds when he fell, and even filled out his graduate school applications.

In a singular gesture of empathy Garfunkel now called himself ‘Darkness’. Sandy recalls, ‘He would come in and say, “Darkness is going to read to you now.” He would take me to class and back; he would take me around the city. He altered his entire life so that it would accommodate me.’ 

One day, as the pair stood in the vast hall of bustling Grand Central Station, Garfunkel suddenly said that he had to leave for an urgent reason, and left his blind friend alone in the rush-hour crowd, terrified, stumbling and falling. Sandy remembers: ‘I cut my forehead and shins, my socks were bloodied, I had my hands out and even bumped into a woman’s breasts. It was a horrendous feeling of shame and humiliation. I began running, knocking over coffee cups and briefcases, and finally managed to get to the local train to Columbia University. It was the worst couple of hours of my life.’ 

Back on campus, he also bumped into a man, who then apologised. ‘I immediately knew it was Arthur’s voice. For a moment I was enraged, and then I understood what had happened; that his colossally insightful, brilliant yet wildly risky strategy had worked.’

Art had not abandoned Sandy at the station at all, but had followed him the entire time, watching over him. ‘Arthur knew it was only when I could prove to myself I could do it that I would have real independence – and it worked, because after that I felt that I could do anything. That moment was the spark that enabled me to live a completely different life, without fear and without doubt. For that I am tremendously grateful to my friend.’ 

Sandy not only graduated, but went on to study for a master’s degree at Harvard and Oxford. It was while in Britain that he received a phone call from his friend – and with it the chance to keep his side of their agreement. Garfunkel wanted to drop out of architecture school and record his first album with Paul Simon, but needed $400 to get started. Sandy, by then married to his high school sweetheart, says: ‘We had $404 in our bank account and I told him that it was for him. He had helped me restart my life and his request was the first chance I had to keep my half of our solemn covenant.’

The resulting 1964 album, Wednesday Morning, 3 am, may have been a flop, but one of the tracks, The Sounds Of Silence, was released as a single the following year and went to #1 around the world. Sandy continues: ‘The Sounds Of Silence meant such a lot because it starts with the words ‘Hello darkness’. This was Darkness singing, the guy who read to me after I returned to Columbia, blind.’

Amazingly, Sandy went on to achieve extraordinary success as an inventor, entrepreneur, investor, presidential adviser and philanthropist. The father of three has always refused to use a white cane or guide dog. ‘I didn’t want to be “that blind guy”’, he says. ‘I wanted to be Sandy Greenberg, the human being.

Six decades later the two men remain best friends, and Garfunkel credits Sandy with transforming his own life. ‘With Sandy, my real life emerged. I became a better guy in my own eyes, and began to see who I was: somebody who gives to a friend. I blush to find myself within his dimension. My friend is the gold standard of decency.’ For his part, Sandy just says: ‘I am the luckiest man in the world.’