More On Francis Froelicher

David Lavender's (author of They Wrote Their Own Histories - Fountain Valley School's First 70 Years) chapter on Francis Froelicher's tenure as headmaster at FVS is an interesting read for a student of Avon's history.  As I mentioned in the last post, I (perhaps unfairly) got the sense that one was meant to conclude that Froelicher's views on education were too progressive for TPR, and that is part of why he left Avon so quickly and abruptly.  Of course, a historian of FVS would have no further interest in TPR or in the school Froelicher left behind, but Lavender describes an FVS that was, under Froelicher, if anything less progressive in its approach than Avon Old Farms in the same era.  He does not describe the academic program in great detail, except to report the one person connected to both schools wrote to another "they are re-creating Avon out West."  In some ways, though, the schools were very different; FVS students'  rooms were cleaned by maids, and servants, rather than other students waited on them in the refectory (yes, they did call it that).  Indeed, FVS students did not have a work program, or formal "chores," until World War II decimated the work force available to them in Colorado Springs.  This despite the fact that there was a working ranch associated with the school.  Throughout that period, the student council at FVS sought ways to be relevant, while at Avon the council actually governed, levying taxes and making and enforcing rules.
On the other hand, there were some interesting parallels in Froelicher's tenures at the two schools.  He was at FVS for ten times as long as he was at Avon, of course, but there, too, he was able to run the school secure in the knowledge that any deficit would be covered by a single benefactor.  As at Avon, the benefactor was a woman, but at FVS she had neither founded the school nor designed its buildings.  He also left FVS abruptly, "resigning" in December of 1950 and not returning when Christmas vacation ended.  Lavender reports that there are no minutes from the board meetings that led to Froelicher's dismissal (and when Lanvender undertook his history, only two members of that board remained alive), but complaints included the deficits and lax discipline at school.  For Avonians, the most telling sentence reads: "Some were aware that he may have had a drinking problem."  Lavender goes on to say that one of the two surviving board members "insists that the problem had absolutely nothing to do with his resignation."
Whether or not his drinking cost Francis Froelicher his job at FVS, as it had his job at Avon, the fact remains that he guided the school from its opening through its first twenty years, which years included the Second World War.  His views on education and his vision for his school inspired TPR and Betty Hare (of FVS) to believe in him and six members of the faculty (a majority) to follow him from Avon, Connecticut to Colorado Springs, Colorado.  When Froelicher died ten years after leaving FVS, C. Dwight Perry, senior master who had become interim head when Froelicher departed, said of him: "In his colleagues he demanded intellectual curiosity and honesty; from them he got admiration and loyalty.  He loved books and mountains, music and poetry.  He was attracted to plain people and great minds.  He gave short shrift to superficial thinking and to social sham."

Francis Froelicher, Avon, and Fountain Valley School

I have decided to read a few other schools' histories this summer so as to get a better sense of the genre.  I am starting with They Wrote Their Own Histories - Fountain Valley School's First 70 Years because I have it on hand and because Fountain Valley's first headmaster and a substantial percentage of its first faculty had come from Avon.  Only about a third of the way through the first chapter, which describes the founding of the school and the tenure of Francis Froelicher, its first headmaster (and Avon's first provost), I have again encountered the FVS version of Froelicher's departure from Avon.  You might remember from my April '11 post Put 'Em in the Stocks that the author of They Wrote Their Own Histories, David Lavender, suggests that Froelicher and TPR parted ways over her insistence that pillory stocks be erected on campus for the purpose of punishing recalcitrant boys!  Lavender also describes Avon as "one of the strangest (schools) ever established," and tells of Froelicher's  progressive views on education in such a way as to allow the reader to conclude TPR did not share them.  In reviewing the earlier post, I realize I did not spend a great deal of time debunking this ridiculous story, but I did mention the explanation TPR's biographer Sandra Katz gives for Froelicher's departure, namely that his heavy drinking was interfering with his work.  I will not explore that much further here, except to say that the record makes clear that TPR's approach to education was at least as progressive as Froelicher's, so that while pillory stocks would have fit in well with TPR's Cotswold village, they would not fit at all with her philosophy of education.  (It is interesting to note that when Froelicher was forced out by FVS's board after 20 years, his being too lenient with bad boys was among the complaints.  There is no mention of the board's wanting to erect stocks on campus.)
They Wrote Their Own Histories does make clear, though, that Avon paid a price for the TPR-Frolicher rift.  Of course, the primary price came in the mass resignation of the faculty in 1930, six of whom followed Froelicher to Fountain Valley.  Beyond that, FVS's first student body of 57 students included 20 who had transferred from Avon.  Perhaps most important: two of FVS's most significant early benefactors, Elizabeth Sage Hare, who, according to Lavender "alone deserves credit for the School's founding," and Ruth Hanna McCormick Simms, whose father was Mark Hanna, the underwriter of late 19th century Republican politicians, were Avon parents who sided with Froelicher when the split came (Hare going so far as to withdraw her son from Avon and board him with the Froelichers while he attended Gilman in Baltimore).  Hare and Simms were extremely generous to FVS in its early years; it seems reasonable to assume they would have been similarly generous to Avon had they not been disenchanted by Froelicher's departure.
Of course, assuming Sandra Katz is correct as to why Froelicher left Avon, these losses seem somewhat unavoidable.  One could argue various people - whether students, faculty, or potential benefactors - would have been more understanding if TPR had let the truth be known, but it is not hard to appreciate why she chose not to do so.  Even if she had been willing to see Froelicher's reputation in ruins, she could hardly have wanted the publicity that would come with acknowledging a lush had been at the helm of her fledgling school.

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.

Of Hamlet, Farm Chores, Floods & Weddings

Top billing (the front page) in the March 24, 1936 issue of The Avon Weekly News-letter is split between that spring's production of Hamlet and impending wedding of school store (not yet the Hawk's Nest) employee Oscar Bohman.  Hamlet, despite keeping its audience of "nearly 190" in the Refectory for four and half hours, won rave reviews, with everyone from Mr. Whiting, who payed Hamlet, to Owre, who played (offstage) a rooster, earning plaudits.  It seems Ben Custer '10 was not the first of his family to take center stage at Avon.  Tom Custer '36 played Polonius, and his father (Ben's great-grandfather) Dr. Custer played the Ghost.  Actors and stagehands will note that some things do not change - the dress rehearsal for Hamlet lasted until 4:30 AM - and some things do - actors were allowed to sleep through the first four classes the next day!

In other news, Dr. Kammerer had announced a change in the way students would do farm work.  It seems work and school conflicted, with students on farm duty constantly racing from one place to the other, with the result that they ended up doing busywork at the farm and not learning anything about agriculture.  Under the new plan, boys were to spend "all 24 hours" at the farm on their appointed days.  Philip Schenck '30, who had been to Connecticut Agricultural College, would be on hand to "coach them in the scientific application of modern agricultural knowledge."
There was a flood on the estate that week, and according to Verne it was every bit as high as the flood of '27.  It also caused Verne to remember the sight of Mr. Iverson chasing a trout  - on horseback (Mr. Iverson was riding a horse, not the trout) during the flood of '27.
Modern Avonians will wonder at this: in the Founder's Era, there were Effort Grades in addition to the academic ones.  It seems that students who were on the Avon List (the top scholars) and had an A Effort Rating for the past several months were able to leave for spring break two days early!  If one had only one of those two distinctions - or was on the Council - one could leave a day early...

This Week in Avon History

The February 4th, 1936 issue of The Avon Weekly News-letter reminds us that student government really did some governing in the Founder's era.  The issue of the day was lateness and the Village Council's standing rule that more than ten latenesses in a week would mean the entire school must check in at Sunday breakfast.  When the newsletter came out on Tuesday, there were already eleven latenesses that week, and with the annual Mid-Winter Dance scheduled for Saturday night, the boys were hoping to be able to sleep in on Sunday.  Commander Hunter saved the day by proposing both that the new boy's lateness be forgiven (he did not yet fully appreciate the rules) and that any further lateness that week be punished with two hours hard labor, thus sparing the rest of the school an early Sunday morning.
The News-letter also reported on the Town Meeting held the previous Friday.  The Village Treasurer, Thomas Custer '36, reported that there was $231.35 in the treasury, which meant that, in the absence of a spike in breakage, there might be a general tax reduction.  Also making a report was Village Attorney Reed Estabrook '36, who would go on to spend decades as Chairman of the Board of Directors.
One student suggested the Council appoint a commission to study the problem of tent caterpillars on the Estate and how best to exterminate them.  A resolution to that effect passed unanimously, and William Whitney '36, the Warden, expressed his approval, as the solution to the tent caterpillar problem might well present an opportunity for "hard labor" to be assigned to any future late-comers.

Also in the news that week: the boys had seen a movie about - and demonstration of - "seeing eye" dogs,  the "Avon List" had been published, and it included both A. Sperry and M.L. Sperry (noteworthy in that they are science teacher Holland Sperry's two daughters Alice and Mary Lou), the Eagles and Diogenes teams had split a pair of recent hockey games, and the Thursday night fire drill was pronounced a success overall, despite a general lack of surprise.