Class of '62; Here Pierps!

At the recent Alumni Weekend, the Class of '62 observed their 50th reunion (!), and they gathered for dinner on Friday night ...
First, Alan Rozinsky presented two gifts to the school.  On behalf of classmate Steve Myers, he delivered two of Steve's photographs (Steve is an artist/photographer, and one of the photos had appeared in Life Magazine's 1999 Best Photos issue) to the school in honor/memory of Don Pierpont and Sid Clark.  Steve wrote: "Their guidance and direction, bound together in an unlikely synthesis of methods, remains a lasting presence for all of us who received their help."  Alan's second presentation concerned Hartford radio personality Bob Steele, who graced the local airwaves for fifty years (I distinctly remember my mother sitting on a beach in Maine and discussing the tenor of Bob Steele's voice with two neighbors; I thought it odd at first, but then I realized all three lived in Connecticut during the year; this was probably in the late 60s).  Bob's son Phil has collected and published a series of scrapbooks that chronicle Bob's career, and Alan and Bobbie have donated a set to the school for use in the library and by the history department.  They constitute a phenomenal resource for Hartford area history, and I can envision them getting much use by students as they "practice" history.
Not surprisingly, one of the better stories came from George Seifert.  Don Pierpont had arranged for George to go to Parson's College, where Don was on the Board of Directors.  When he got there, George adopted a St. Bernard puppy, which he named after Don.  One day, when George was in class and his friends were exercising the dog, Don arrived for a board meeting and was confounded to hear a group of college students yelling for "Pierps"!

Rhymes With "Have On"

Singing Group from Early 40s

Last night at the Commencement Concert, and last week at the Reunion Concert, the boys sang a song - I do not have the title - that had been popular with the Avon Heirs, which was the singing group in the 50s and 60s.  The song sounds very much like a traditional "fight song," but "Avon" is pronounced in the Founder's Era way, which is to say it rhymes with "have on."  This leads to the question: when did Avonians begin to pronounce "Avon" as we now do (rhymes with "wave on")?  I have always assumed the change took place as the school re-opened in 1948, and indeed Alan Rozinsky '62 remembers the song being sung one way while the name was pronounced the other way.  Perhaps the song was originally written and performed in the Founder's Era, and the Avon Heirs wanted to be true to the original.  Perhaps the group pictured here had it in their repertoire.
Or perhaps Mrs. Riddle's "Avon" lived on into the 50s, changing over slowly until the current "Avon" won the day.

Coincidences

The other day, Alan Rozinsky '62, who with his wife Bobbie is soon to retire to Florida, ending decades of residence on campus and two teaching careers so illustrious they have recently been honored with the Alumni Order of Old Farms, handed me an envelope.  Among the things in it was a tribute to legendary English teacher Sid Clark written by one of his former students, Thomas Steinbeck.  Steinbeck tells the story of over-hearing Mr. Clark say to a stranger who had seemed to question the wisdom of Sid's career choice: "I'm always deeply impressed with those people who can see what is before them; happily I've always been blessed with the ability to see all the rest."

Young Thom was so taken by that statement that he wrote it in bold on the inside cover of his binder during French class.  Years later, when Thom had written a draft of a play, he presented to his father for his review, bound in that same AOF binder.  The father's first question was not about the play but about the quotation inscribed in the binder.  When Thom related the origin of the inscription, his father said "I know Sidney Clark.  He was your English teacher," and headed for his own voluminous library.  Soon, Thom's father produced a dusty tome and told him he would find the quotation on a certain page.  Thom soon discovered that Sid had been quoting Euclid, and the full quotation reads; "I am ever profoundly awed by those wise beings that can see plainly what stands before them.  Happily, the gods have blessed me with the ability to see all the rest."

When Thom expressed his amazement that his father could make that connection and remember the book, his father told him to check the flyleaf, where he found "a yellowing Avon Old Farms library bookplate with Sidney Clark's name written at the bottom."  It seems that Sid had loaned the book to Thom's father, who had yet to return it.  For my money, this would be an interesting story if it ended here, but by now you'll have guessed that Thom's father's name was John and that he was himself adept at turning a phrase.
So why relate this story?  Have I sacrificed the eloquence of Thom's tribute to Sid Clark in favor of an anecdote about an interesting coincidence made more interesting by the fact that one of the parties is a famous author?  To me, the story speaks to the existence of a small community of Men of Letters, of which Sid Clark was definitely a member.  It reminds me of a similar story involving a different Avon alumnus.  One of my own English teachers once told of accompanying a friend to dinner at the home of a particularly highly-regarded and long-tenured professor of English at Yale.  When after dinner the professor made a comment about the fascinating lives that words seemed to lead, my teacher knew he had once heard another of his teachers say very much the same thing.  This was the 1970s, but my teacher asked if the professor might remember a particular student who would have been at Yale just after World War II.  Despite the intervening years, the professor did remember his old student - my teacher's teacher.  He was Eddie Custer, AOF '43.