WILLIAMSTOWN — In summer 1979, the then-ailing, recently deposed Shah of Iran bought a 12-room house on South Street for $250,000. It was an arm's-length transaction: Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi had never laid eyes on the place. Neither did he visit Williamstown during his family's residence in the secluded mansion, which is situated on acreage abutting the Taconic Golf Club. He was too ill. Seeking treatment for cancer, he frequently traveled to the U.S. from Egypt, where he had been forced to accept permanent asylum after being deposed from his throne in Tehran in the 1979 Iranian Revolution. He died in July of the following year. His eldest son, Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi, was at his side, having traveled to Egypt from Williamstown, where, as a "special student" at Williams College, he had been living on South Street with his mother, the Shah's third wife, Farah Diba Pahlavi, and two siblings, Ali Reza and Leila. Crown Prince Reza assumed his father's title and declined reenrollment at Williams, returning to the college only sporadically in later years to socialize with classmates at a few reunion events. Now 65 and living in exile in the U.S., he has repeatedly called for regime change in Iran. A French news service, France 24, has referred to him as "the highest profile opposition figure" to Iran's current government. In a video shared widely on social media, Pahlavi said: "The Islamic Republic has reached its end and is collapsing. What has begun is irreversible. The future is bright and together we will navigate this sharp turn in history. Now is the time to stand; the time to reclaim Iran. May I soon be by your side." The magazine declared that Pahlavi is likely to command "increasing attention" following last Saturday's bombing of three Iranian nuclear sites by U.S. forces. Looking back 40-plus years, it's anyone's guess why the Iranian royal family settled on Williamstown as a haven in troubled times, although the town's strong qualifications are self-evident, including natural beauty as well as rich cultural and educational resources. The South Street property — a roomy Georgian-style house on five-plus acres at the end of a long, winding driveway — also was likely to appeal primarily because of its promise of privacy. It's also clear that security was a major concern. The family retained a New York City-based security agency, which advertised locally for "intelligent and alert" individuals to fill positions as guards. A law enforcement background was not required, although applicants had to possess a Massachusetts permit to carry firearms. The agency evidently placed a far lower value on relevant experience and/or training than on local knowledge, presumably on the theory that a knowledgeable and observant "local" would be more successful in the identification of possible threats through application of what might be called a "sticks-out-like-a-sore-thumb" test. Several of my friends won appointments to the Pahlavis' security team, and their descriptions of workplace occurrences fascinated revelers at the "old" Purple Pub on Bank Street. Mail call at the "big house" was, evidently, a highlight of the guards' work days. Under strict instructions to thoroughly vet even the most innocuous envelopes and parcels, the guards' won approval of what they called the ".22-caliber procedure." This involved tacking or otherwise securing suspect parcels and envelopes to a tree and firing at them from a safe distance with a small caliber gun, preferably a rifle. No explosive business ever resulted, but the guards' marksmanship skills were kept sharp. "Ali Reza was chauffeured to school in a Jeep Cherokee, which remained in the school parking lot with its driver during the day," Elliot Fenander, a retired teacher of English at Mount Greylock Regional High School, recalled recently in an essay he titled "Hazardous Duty." During the school day, Fenander reported, the shah's younger son was "accompanied by a bodyguard, Mike Shahbazi, who reportedly kept a knife in his boot and remained in two-way radio contact with the Jeep's driver. Word circulated that when the Cherokee was serviced at the (former) B&L Gulf Station on Spring Street, it broke the garage lift during an oil change. An inspection revealed heavy steel plates in the door panels." In early 1984, Fenander recalled, Ali Reza asked him to write a letter of recommendation to Princeton University for him. "You can't imagine the angst I felt," Fenander said, noting that his student's academic qualifications were not the best. "I stressed his apparent confidence, which demonstrated leadership potential," the teacher said. A few days before graduation, Fenander seized an opportunity to ask Ali why he had applied to Princeton. "His answer: 'I want to meet Brooke Shields."