"Men of Avon" Video

Earlier this fall, Bryan Zaros, our director of choral activities, put together this video to celebrate the history of "Men of Avon." If you have not yet seen it, do take a look.  Thanks to Bryan, his choral groups, Archivist Carol Ketcham, and everyone else who had a hand in this video.

Don Pierpont Saved My Life

On the occasion of the sixty-fifth anniversary of the school's re-opening and the forty-fifth anniversary of Don Pierpont's death, Pierpont-era alumni gathered on campus this weekend to remember their Provost at a dinner and fireside chat on Friday evening and a Chapel service on Saturday morning. At both events, participants stood up and spoke about their particular memories of "Pierps."

The Chapel Ready for the Don Pierpont Service

There were, frankly, tears shed in both the Commons Room (Friday evening) and the Chapel as alumnus after alumnus recounted the profoundly positive impact that Don Pierpont had on their lives. Many stories followed the same outline: confronted with a vulnerable, unsuccessful, perhaps misbehaving boy or young man, Pierpont somehow saw potential no one else could recognize, provided a second (or more) chance and then helped the young lad find - and believe in - his best self. Pierpont's legendary compassion was on full display, perhaps best in the story of a meeting between Pierpont, a student, and Dean Kincaid. The dean pointed out that the student was failing most of his classes, had been drinking in the dorm, and had recently stolen Pierpont's car! Pierps's response? "Don't confuse me with facts"! That student stayed at Avon, graduated, and is grateful to Don Pierpont for the happy life he has enjoyed since then.
Of course, as with any gathering at which Don Pierpont is remembered, there were repeated references to Ho Jo's!

Who Was Mrs. Riddle?

Anyone who seeks to understand - let alone write about - the history of the school has to wrestle with the question of who Mrs. Riddle really was. We know the basics, of course: daughter of Alfred A. Pope, graduate of Miss Porter's, first registered female architect in Connecticut, Lusitania survivor, and founder of Avon Old Farms. We know that she had a reputation for eccentricity writ large. We know that she was, to put it mildly, strong-willed. We also know that these attributes have been caricatured in a series of popular myths/exaggerations about Mrs. Riddle. (She did not, for example, choose Percy Kammerer as Provost simply by finding his name in a telephone directory, and she did not have a roof torn down simply because it did not sag correctly.) The questions we confront are: how eccentric and strong-willed was she, and to what extent was she to blame for the departures of three Provosts and two entire faculties during the Founder's Era?

Theodate Pope Riddle

Certainly, there was a widespread perception at the time that TPR could be difficult to work with. Cal Magruder '46, for example, recalls that most of the faculty and most of the students sided with Provost Stabler rather than TPR in the conflict that would lead to his departure and the school closing. Time magazine chose to highlight the founder's eccentricities (and her progressive views on education) in their March, 1944 article on the closing. They no doubt enjoyed using the word "warped" to describe the sag in Avon's roofs and "Warped to Order" as a sub-heading for that section of the article. However, Time also chose to perpetuate the phone directory myth and suggested that Francis Froelicher and Percy Kammerer had "quit" after "rows," presumably with TPR. The reality is that neither of them had "quit" and that both had been guilty of behavior unbecoming of a provost and potentially damaging to the school.
Eddy Custer '43 was an exception to Cal Magruder's rule. He wrote his brother Tom ('36) that he has "always thought Mrs. Riddle was wonderful and Stabler horrible," but went on to quote his mother, the history teacher John S. Custer's wife, as referring to TPR as "a spoiled and ruthless old woman"! "Mother said Mrs. Riddle had imposed conditions under which Mr. Stabler could not possibly stay, but she didn't say what the conditions were." Frankly, it is hard to imagine. Provost Stabler had already instituted religious services at school - appointing himself "Rector" - and changed the name of the school.  It is not as thought TPR never let him take the initiative. Would that Eddy (Dad) or my grandparents were still around to shed some light on the subject.
As I get closer to being "finished" with my chapter on the Founder's Era (long-time readers will know that I have already both a) claimed to have completed such a draft and b) observe that "finished" is not a word one can ever truly apply to history), I am confronted with the necessity to address these questions. At the moment, I am inclined to conclude that a healthy measure of the anti-TPR sentiment of the day stemmed more from the biases of the day than from her own, admittedly quite real, idiosyncrasies. Once I have organized my thinking and taken a stab at the conclusion of this chapter, I'll write another post on this issue. In the meantime, do share any thoughts or understanding you may have!

Letters From India

My father, Eddy Custer '43, joined the American Field Service immediately after graduation and spent a year serving in India as an ambulance driver and company clerk. Throughout his travels, he wrote lengthy letters to his parents and to his older brother Tom (AOF '36). Tom's daughter Barbara recently came across a cache of these letters and sent them to my brother. In many ways, these letters are typical of any young man off to war - filled with yearning for home, affection for loved ones, stories of the wonders and the tedium of travel and then service, and constant entreaties to write letters.

This embroidered seal accompanied the letters

For some reason, it had not occurred to me until I read these letters that the "home" for which Dad was pining as he started his journey would be gone by the time he returned. In the fall of '43, there was no inkling that Avon would not go on forever, and he mentions the excellence of the fare in the Refectory and Chef Candles' magnificent Thanksgiving feast among the many things he missed.
By the time Dad returned from India, the school would be closed, and his parents would no longer live in the Diogenes apartment where he grew up. He learned of the school's fate in a March, 1944 TIME Magazine article. In May, he wrote "I still can't believe Avon is closing. It seems like a fantastic nightmare." Later in the month: "I disagree with you that there are other places in this world equally nice. Any school after Avon will seem grim to me..." 

Back to the Future: Skip Flanagan Part I

A few years ago, Henry "Skip" Flanagan re-joined the Avon faculty after a 26 year absence durning which he served as headmaster of Western Reserve Academy in Hudson, Ohio. Skip first interviewed for a job in admissions while he was still a graduate student at the University of Michigan. He did not get the admissions job, but he was so taken with the place that he let George Trautman know he was willing to do anything to get his foot in the door.  Soon he was moving his family into Pelican dorm and preparing to teach English and French, coach football and lacrosse, and - as the contract used to say - "other duties as assigned." This was in 1972, and the Flanagans would be at Avon until the spring of 1982.

Skip Flanagan

In Skip's second year at Avon, John Green, the dean of students, left to become headmaster at Rectory School in Pomfret, CT, and George asked Skip to step in as dean. (Actually it was John Green who blazed the "dean at Avon - headmaster somewhere else - return to Avon" trail; he spent several years back on campus after retiring as a headmaster.) In those days, dean of students really meant director of college counseling, and Skip has great memories of that work. This was long before the personal computer, so Skip would dictate the boys' college recommendations to Frieda Mason, wife of Brad Mason, who typed as he spoke. They would complete the recommendations for a class of 60-70 seniors during a ten day period in the early fall! Skip particularly remembers the help of Marie Delnicki, who joined the office early in his tenure as dean and who serves as registrar to this day. Marie is one of those multi-talented people who simply make things work.

When I pointed out to Skip that he and then dean of faculty Henry Pennell have now been replaced by about half a dozen people each (there are currently five administrators focused entirely on the academic program, four people - including Skip - are involved in college counseling, and three people are largely focused on residential/student life), he replied that the 70s were a simpler time in schools.  For example, he recounted simply piling the applicants to Williams College into a van and driving them to Williamstown, where they would be interviewed by the director of admissions, who would then call Skip the next day to discuss the candidates and make his decisions. That is NOT how college admissions works today!

Among the other names Skip remembers fondly from that period were Bill Kron, "the conscience of all things academic," Brad Mason, Frank Leavitt, Courtney Bird, Seth Mendell, "the consummate storyteller," and especially Sid Clark.

Skip's wife Brit Flanagan developed a good friendship with Sid (good judge of character, Brit; she also befriended Wilbur Durfee); Skip remembers returning from dorm duty at night to find Sid playing the piano (Sid's life before Avon included a stint as a professional musician). Interestingly, Skip used the term "gruff facade" to describe both Sid Clark and George Trautman. In Sid's case, he nonetheless became Skip's mentor in the English department and a lifelong friend to both Skip and Brit. In George's case, Skip says behind the gruff facade lay "a lot of caring and a big heart for those who served the school well..." Agreed.

Enough for now. Look for more from our interview in Back to the Future, Part II.

Lunch in Gettysburg

Ben Custer '10 and I are just back from a trip to Gettysburg for the 150th anniversary of the famous battle there. Beyond thwarting a rebel invasion and preserving democracy, our agenda included lunch with Fred Michel '77 at an Irish Pub in town. It was great fun to meet Fred and hear some of his stories of the Trautman era. We also, frankly, spent a great deal of time talking about the Civil War and about the history of Frederick, Maryland, where Fred lives.

With Ben Custer '10, and Fred Michel '77

I would have more to say about our conversation, but my memory has been obscured by being killed four times in as many days (yes, we spent four days reenacting a three day battle; these things take time), wearing heavy blue wool in the heat of midsummer, and so on. One aspect of the lunch I will not soon forget is Fred's generosity. He had planned to pay for lunch, but our waiter announced that Ben's and my meals had been paid for by the gentlemen at the next table. They had been at the battle that morning or the day before, and they wanted to thank us (as representatives of the reenacting community) for making it possible for them to get a sense of what had happened 150 years earlier. Fred, not to be outdone, gave the folks his card and generously offered to show them around the various points of interest in nearby Frederick. Having spoken with Fred, I know a) that there is a great deal to see in Frederick, Maryland, and b) that Fred's knowledge and enthusiasm for the area make him an ideal tour guide; I do hope the good folks took him up on the offer. In any event, it was a nice display of community/generosity on Fred's part.

Grandparents Day

If you look at the Colombian flag that hangs in the Refectory, you will see the name German Lopez on the plate - this was the first flag added to the Refectory.  On Grandparents Day, I got a chance to chat with German, who was on campus visiting his grandson Luis Jaramillo '15.  Lopez, known as "Lopey" at the time, was Warden of the class of '49, the first class to graduate after the school re-opened.

German Lopez '49 & his grandson, Luis Jaramillo '15

As Warden, German had frequent meetings in Don Pierpont's house, and German remembers Pierpont very fondly.  Other memories in include making coffee and roasting marshmallows in the working fireplace in his room, being "an item" with Frank Leavitt's older sister Carol (the Leavitt family rented space in the Quad in those days), and meetings of an elite group - was it the Order of Old Farms? - in a room upstairs in the Water Tower.  He used to babysit for the Kincaid family and once borrowed their car, fell asleep, and drove it into an apple tree!  German says the accident caused no big fuss, which I am inclined to believe given the number of crashing-the-borrowed-faculty-car stories that seem to emanate from the Pierpont years! Apparently German Lopez set the precedent.

Happy Birthday "Nails"

George Trautman turned 80 on Tuesday, April 16th.  Though George retired as headmaster over a decade ago, he is still an active member of the school community.  He does some work for the Alumni and Development office, and it is not unusual to see George at games or at Sunday brunch.
George first came to Avon in the late '60s as a member of a Visiting Committee completing a ten-year re-accreditation.  He fell in love with the school and hoped he was destined to return.  At that time, he was a member of the faculty at Tabor Academy, where he earned the nickname "Nails."  That nickname must have rung true for Avonians as well when George was hired to succeed Don Pierpont and took over as headmaster in the fall of 1969.

This portrait of George hangs in the Estabrook Board Room

George had scores of signature moments in his nearly three decades at the helm, but one of them came on Day 1, when George famously required long-haired students to get haircuts before they would be allowed to register.  "Nails" might have been one of the nicer things George was called that day!

One thing that always struck me about George was his remarkable instincts for this work.  He always seemed to know what questions would lead directly to the heart of the matter and how to respond once he got there.  At times, it almost seemed as though George had a "sixth sense."
On one such occasion, my wife woke me up in the middle of a late spring night to report odd noises emanating from the Quad.  A senior prank, perhaps?  When we looked out the window, we saw some seniors somehow hoisting a canoe up into one of the big trees near Eagle.  I started to get dressed, pondering exactly what I might say to a group of seniors bent on some sort of canoe-tree mischief, when a second look out the window revealed the canoe being being lowered back to the ground.   What had caused the pranksters to change course?  George was standing just inside Eagle Archway staring intently at the proceedings.  If he said anything, I did not hear it, but the boys were quickly about the business of undoing their handiwork and slinking off the bed.  When I asked George later on how he had known what was going on - had he heard noises from the Quad? - he said he was not sure; he woke up and somehow knew that going for a walk was a good idea.

A Letter

Recently, archivist Carol Ketcham sent over a copy of a letter TPR sent to Gilman Ordway '44 in December of 1945.  She was pleased to have had a letter from Ordway, then a student at Yale, and pleased to learn he was rooming with Eddie Custer '43.  TPR clearly knew the boys; she knew that Eddie had served in India during the war and that he wrote poetry, and she knew Gilman was a writer as well (he has a neat story in the '44 yearbook).
She filled Ordway in on the activities of the Army on campus, especially the improvements such as the sprinkler system and the new pool, and she went on to express her hope that Avon would one day re-open as a school.  "Your letter," she wrote, "and the letters from other Avon boys, telling me you stand ready to support the school, cheer my heart."
It comes as no surprise that alumni supported the idea of re-opening the school.  It did, after all, re-open in 1948, something that could not have happened without a great deal of suport from alumni.  Neither is it a surprise that TPR knew and took an active interest in some recent alumni.  While she was not a constant presence on campus during the Founder's Era, she was here from time to time, and every alumnus of the period I have met can recount at least one story of meeting Mrs. Riddle.  TPR was fond of the quotation "by their fruits ye shall know them," and she said more than once that the school was her life.  In that context, one can only imagine how she felt about the school's closing (too distraught to attend Commencement in '44, she sat in her car on Dio circle) and how fervently she would have looked for signs that a re-opening would "take."

Henry Coons '71

After a few technical issues, I've finally been able to review the  video of my interview with Henry Coons '71.  Henry enrolled in 1968 and has been at school for all but five of the intervening years.  A few stories from his student days: In Henry's first year, the school discovered his roommate was selling drugs.  Since the roommate was off campus at the time, they simply told him not to return.  The roommate wanted his stuff back, though, so Henry agreed to drop it off in Greenwich on his next trip to New York.  When he got on a train with the roommate's duffel bag, Henry realized it was an express train not scheduled to stop in Greenwich.  Uncertain about what to do, Henry tossed the bag out the window as they rolled through Greenwich station and then left a message for his former roommate.  He had no way of knowing whether it had worked until on a subsequent trip to New York he saw a homeless man wandering the tracks outside Greenwich wearing some of the roommate's distinctive clothing!
At the start of his second year, Henry's view from his room in Diogenes afforded him a good view of registration and new headmaster George Trautman enforcing the haircut policy by sending students to the barber before they could move in.   He also remembered doing science labs that involved live rats.  In one lab, Henry's lab partner was the anesthesiologist, while Henry was the perform some sort of rat surgery.  Unfortunately, his lab partner feinted, the rat's ether wore off, and the rat ran off before Henry could finish.  Henry now works in the old science building; no word on whether he has encountered an aged, deformed rat in the hallways.

New Year's Resolution

2012 was not a particularly good year for this project, which fact is reflected in, among other things, the relatively small number of posts to this blog.  To be sure, there were some good moments; I had wonderful interviews with Seth Mendell and Cal Magruder, to name but two; I had a great time listening to the stories of the class of '62 at their dinner, and I continued to work my way through the Avon Weekly News-letter.  I know more about the school's history now than I did a year ago, but I am not much closer to being "finished" than I was at the close of 2011.  (I've said it before; I'll never actually be "finished," or at least the work will not, but I am not much closer to having something worthy of publishing or presenting or uploading or whatever it is we will be doing when I am ready.  My frustration at this pace has caused me to change my approach. 
Heretofore, I have been singularly focused on the Founder's Era; while I continue to think my reasons for that focus are valid, I've decided to move ahead with inquiry into any and all aspects of school history from now on.  I do still have missing pieces to my work on the Founder's Era, but most of the sources I need to consult are far away from Avon at the moment.  Thus, even as I ponder bridging that distance electronically - do Founder's Era alumni "do" Skype? - I have decided to seize the opportunity to work with the sources who are available to me here and now.  There are literally dozens of people on or near campus with a wealth of information and stories to tell.  Indeed, as I write, I am preparing to interview Henry Coons '71, who knew Don Pierpont (briefly) and George Trautman in his student days and worked with/for George Trautman and Ken LaRocque in his faculty days.  Bill Kron, who worked here for more than four decades, still lives nearby and is frequently on campus.  Indeed, there are 11 people on this year's campus phone list who were already here when I arrived over 30 years ago, and there are a few more who had been here and have since returned.
So, beginning with Henry, I will talk to those people and record their stories.  Who knows how much I will have learned a year from now?