Frederick S. Allis, Jr.
Youth from Every Quarter

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN, continued

Another innovative program introduced during the Kemper years was Schoolboys Abroad, known after girls were admitted as School Year Abroad. The idea had originated with Clark Vaughan, Head of the Language Department at Wilbraham Academy. Vaughan believed that the eleventh grade was an ideal time for a student to spend a year in some foreign country, becoming thoroughly familiar with its language and culture. An eleventh-grader was mature enough to take advantage of the opportunities the year could provide, yet young enough to be kept under a fairly tight regimen and not waste a lot of time horsing around, the way people in the college programs did. Since Vaughan's field was Spanish, he made preliminary investigations in Spain and came to the conclusion that the best location for such a program would be Barcelona. Catalan rather than Castillian Spanish was spoken there, but other considerations, he thought, more than outweighed that disadvantage. Vaughan presented his plan to the Trustees of Wilbraham, who, primarily for financial reasons, believed that they could not undertake to support it. Accordingly, Vaughan decided to try out his proposal on John Kemper. A program of this kind that could provide special enriched advantages for language students appealed greatly to the Andover Headmaster, and he determined to give it a try.

In a memorandum to the Trustees presented in the fall of 1963, Kemper stressed the advantages that might be gained from such a program; in addition to language proficiency and cultural studies, it would undoubtedly fit its students for the Advanced Placement exam and thereby increase their chances of college admission. Vaughan had already made arrangements with the Instituto de Estudios Norteamericanos in Barcelona for classroom space and had enlisted the help of Daniel Olivier, another member of the Wilbraham Faculty, as his second in command. One of the big stumbling blocks in a program of this kind was how to conduct it so that the students would not lose a year of secondary school in the process. To meet that problem it was agreed that Mr. Olivier would teach a regular eleventh-grade English course, while Edmond E. Hammond, Jr., one of the ablest members of the Phillips Academy Mathematics Department, would give a regular course in eleventh-grade mathematics. History courses would be taught in Spanish by teachers hired in Barcelona, as would be true of the language courses themselves. After an initial stay in a pension, the students would spend most of the year living with Spanish families, thereby intensifying their experience in a foreign land. With tuition at $3200 it was believed that the program could be financially self-supporting. The Headmaster closed his recommendation to the Trustees by suggesting that if the program in Spain worked well, Phillips Academy might well want to consider establishing similar programs in other foreign countries. Impressed with the possibilities of the program, the Trustees voted to support it for one year.(28)

Implementing the program proved to be far more difficult than planning it. The original proposal called for thirty students who had done honor work in Spanish. Since it was clear that not all of them would come from Andover, the program was opened to students of any reputable school who could get the recommendation of their headmasters. Clark Vaughan, a perennial optimist by nature, was sure there would be a waiting list of students who wanted to go but could not get in. In the event, although there was a great deal of interest---requests for information and the like---it was difficult to find candidates whose parents were willing to make hard and fast financial commitments. As a result, when the first group left for Spain in the summer of 1964, it contained eleven rather than thirty. Despite the small number and some administrative foul-ups that were unavoidable the first time around, the initial program successfully immersed the students in the Spanish language and culture. Here are a few vignettes from the Barcelona Bulletin, a mimeographed paper published by the group:

Barcelona traffic---Not only are there no speed laws or code of ethics, but the inability of the Barcelonans to park without running up on the sidewalk menaces the pedestrian even there.

Spanish transportation---The language problem and the typical Spanish disregard for fixed time schedules caused much confusion. On our first trip to a beach forty-five minutes away, five of us took three hours to get there, and the rest never arrived at all .... The autobuses and streetcars are effective as long as they are not hit by a slow-down strike, which is the only resort of Spanish labor since regular strikes are forbidden by law.

Bullfights---We were startled by the smallness of the arena, not bigger than an infield. Each movement, each stream of blood could be seen clearly. All six kills were done clumsily, and our reaction was one of disgust. Even experienced bullfight patrons called that day's corrida more butchery than art.

Athletics---The center of our athletic activities thus far has been a semi-public sports club .... At first swimming was most popular, but since it has become too cold, a new sport has been devised---roller skate hockey .... Starting the first of December we will have membership in the Club de Natacion, oldest sports club in Spain, where we will take part in swimming, sailing, water polo, track, and gymnastics.

Dances---In the part of the program aimed at getting us to socialize with Spanish teenagers, we have attended several dances at the Instituto. The dances are strange---the Spanish are just now doing the twist and rock and roll, and the dances are always over before supper at 9:00---but they have been for many of us the best devisable Spanish classes. We make practical application of the language, talking with chicos and chicas with names like Margarita, Bella, Carlos, Jaime, and Josefina.(29)

The academic side of the program ran smoothly, and by late in the fall all the students had left the pensions, where they had lived at first, and were lodged with Spanish families. Some of these families were very lax in dealing with the American boys, and a general tightening up of discipline proved necessary in some cases, but aside from the inevitable student who drank too much Spanish wine, there were no serious disciplinary problems. During vacations the group went on trips: the first a tour of Spain itself in a bus; the second, visits to cities in other countries, with the group going by train.(30) When the potential difficulties inherent in trying to ride herd on a dispersed group of teenagers in a foreign country are considered, the first year of Schoolboys Abroad went off very well indeed.

In the years that followed, the sailing was not all smooth. At the end of the first year Harris Thomas of the Exeter Language Department visited Barcelona with Colonel Edward Harris, Executive Officer for the program in Andover. Thomas went on the trip because Exeter had agreed to join Andover in sponsoring the program, and a few years later St. Paul's joined also, making a troika. The visitors were generally delighted with what they saw. They did, however, make various recommendations for improvement. The administrative structure of the program was loose and needed tightening, particularly in connection with regular reports from the Director. They also had suggestions for the improvement of various classes. They warned strongly against having the boys engage in any kind of political activity in Spain, lest the program be irreparably damaged. And finally, they urged that preliminary steps be taken to establish another Schoolboys Abroad program somewhere in France.(31)

At the same time, the Barcelona Faculty produced an evaluation with suggestions for improvement. They thought the word "Honors" should be eliminated from the program literature, since it tended to frighten away prospective candidates and since all agreed that middle-of-the-road boys could profit greatly from a year in Spain. They questioned the value of the vacation trips to other countries, particularly since they were very expensive, and believed that the students should spend all their time in Spain.

Finally, they were unhappy about the absence of any organized athletic program. While they agreed that roller skate hockey, basketball, and touch football had gone well on an informal, pick-up basis, they still favored a more structured program.(32) Most of these recommendations were put into effect in the years that followed. In 1967, after long discussions over the most suitable site, a Schoolboys Abroad program was opened in Rennes, France, where it has been operating ever since. As with the Spanish experiment, American teachers from one of the three schools involved teach English and mathematics, while native teachers conduct classes in the language and literature of the country. An attempt was made to establish a program in Germany, but so many difficulties were encountered that it had to be abandoned. The most serious problem faced by the French and Spanish programs was financial. Despite heroic efforts on the part of the administration in the United States to recruit pupils, the optimum number was often not realized. Since administrative costs were high and fixed, this put a squeeze on the budget. And expenses in the foreign country were often more than had been expected. Ted Hammond, the first mathematics teacher to participate, wrote: "There is apparently no awareness on the part of the administration of the magnitude of expenses over here [Barcelona]. I am badly out of pocket for housing already, in what may become an involuntary personal subsidy of this program."(33) The programs ran deficits a number years, which the Trustees of the various schools picked up. Those in charge faced a dilemma. There was no question that a year in a foreign country was a tremendously valuable and enriching experience for the students involved. At the same time there was serious question as to how long such programs could be subsidized when they failed to be self-supporting. Happily, School Year Abroad has recently become financially independent, and its future seems assured.

 

Phillips Academy joined another off-campus program in 1969; the Washington Intern Program, which had been set up by Exeter four years earlier. Andover joined it in much the same way that Exeter had agreed to become part of Schoolboys Abroad. It differed, however, in that it required the student to be absent from campus only part of the year. The basic idea was to have a small group of undergraduates live in Washington for the spring term of the Upper Middler year and work full time in the office of a Senator or Representative. The belief was---and it was strongly supported by actual practice---that this would give the student an unusual insight into the workings of the Federal Government. Collaborating with Exeter on the program took some doing, for they were on a semester system and believed that the most eligible group to go to Washington would be Seniors who had fulfilled their diploma requirements in February, while Andover, on a trimester system, chose Upper Middlers who would return to school for their Senior year and, it was hoped, would share their experiences with other members of their class. In practice this meant that the Exeter boys would start their internships in the middle of February, while the Andover group would not begin until late March. None of the students was allowed to pick his Congressman; on the contrary, the various Congressional offices selected from detailed application forms the interns they wanted.

School Year Abroad had financial difficulties, and the Washington interns were plagued with the finding of adequate housing. At various times during the history of the program the students have lived in dormitories of the National Cathedral School for Girls, Mt. Vernon College, and various hotels. The difficulty can be understood by reviewing the facilities in Hearst Hall, where the first group of Andover Interns lived. An abandoned dormitory of the National Cathedral School for Girls, the building that spring housed on the second floor a Ballet School for girls; on the top floor, the Andover-Exeter contingent; scattered throughout the rest of the building, various old ladies who were former employees of the National Cathedral School and were now on pension; and an assortment of theological students. Despite these handicaps in physical equipment, the program has been extremely popular, and each year since it was started in 1969 there have been many more applicants than could be chosen. Since it was the first program, aside from School Year Abroad, to involve absence from campus for a substantial part of the school year, the Faculty was understandably conservative on the matter of credits. At the beginning the student was to do his English while in Washington, reading and writing themes; then he would come to Summer School---first at Exeter and later at Andover---to make up the other work he had missed in the spring term. As time went on, these requirements---particularly attendance at Summer School---became more and more onerous both to the students and to those in charge of them. At last the Faculty relented, and today a Washington Intern gets credit for the courses he would have taken during the spring term had he remained in School.

A final problem involves staffing. Andover and Exeter have agreed that the program must be supervised by one of their own Faculty members, but hauling a teacher out of School half way through the year to oversee the program is difficult at best. Perhaps even more than Schoolboys Abroad, the program illustrates the complications involved in special opportunities of this kind---in this case to make it possible for fifteen students to spend one term in Washington. The reaction to the program ranges from enthusiastic to rhapsodic, but the number of man hours involved in making it possible is awesome.

A sensitive and incisive picture of the Washington Intern Program in action can be gained from the diary of James Stover, P.A. '70, a member of the first Andover contingent to go to Washington. He writes:

First Day---Today, of course, was the big day .... I arrived in the office before most of the other staff members. All were very friendly, everything on a first name basis. . .  Mr. Watkins [a Congressional Aide] was on the run all day, talking on the phone and to visitors the whole time. The pace is very, very fast. At lunch he told me he'd try to talk with me in the afternoon. As I was leaving about 5:45 he said that he was sorry but that the afternoon had been busier than the morning. It was a good introduction. I realize now how nearly frantic the work can be.

Typing---Actually, I've been typing most of the day. The Office is short a secretary and Larry and Bill discovered that I can type quite well .... I typed a letter to a churchman which states Denney's [Congressman Robert Denney of Nebraska, his Congressman] views on such things as the draft, the ABM system and the welfare programs .... I also typed up a reply to a letter from a man in Atlanta, Georgia that asked that Denney support the direct election of the President. The reply was a page and a half long .... It's amazing how much noise there is in the office. Several times I couldn't even hear the typewriter bell.

Bill gave me a pamphlet from the Legislative Reference Service on "Preparation of Committee Legislative Calendars by Computer" (the Administrative Terminal System) and told me to read it over and write up a summary including my opinion of the system. Certainly Washington is a very beautiful city, at least from Capitol Hill to the Lincoln Memorial. And probably no place is more gorgeous than the Botanic Gardens. Right now the Easter show is on and never in my life have I seen and smelled so many absolutely stunning flowers massed together. I was so carried away I used every flash bulb I was carrying .... At lunch today Bill told me that probably an average of 250 pieces of mail come into the office each day, five days a week. About 100 require replies. He figures that 25% of staff time is spent in handling correspondence.

The polls started coming in today. I am the lucky fellow who gets to open all the envelopes, pick out any cards that are bent, spindled, or mutilated; if people have indicated that they want to get the Progress Reports, make sure that the addresses are legible; and stack the cards. Actually, there are cards of interest: bent ones, ones in which the choices have been indicated by checking instead of punching out the box, and ones that have mistakenly punched-out squares glued or taped back on. Many have comments scrawled on them.

I am sick of being bored out of my mind by poll after poll, of coming back here to study history .... of having to shut the door so Michael can work and not be disturbed by having some one come in and talk. This isn't exactly my idea of great fun. But it's "good" for me, I suppose, I'm glad I'm here.

As I strolled along the Basin, the sidewalk overhung by branches heavy with the white and pink flowers, a wonderful sense of peace took hold of me. This calmness was enhanced when I reached the Jefferson Memorial. This building, for my mind the most beautiful in Washington, is certainly worthy of the great man it honors, of the words inscribed on its inner walls: "We hold these truths to be self-evident . . ." Seeing it framed by the blossoms is a truly unforgettable experience. . .

Things began to look up today when an electric letter opener arrived at the office. Within an hour and a half, I had opened all the remaining letters, probably ten times faster than I could have done by hand ....

These last few days have been hectic, but I will never forget them. Wednesday I started a new job: calling up various agencies to try to drag information out of them. This sounds fairly easy, but in fact is incredibly difficult. It often takes four or five calls to get through to the right person, and then that person is on the phone or busy or doesn't have the information right on hand and so will call back. An example: trying to find out the status of pay TV from the Federal Communications Commission. Most of the information is needed to answer constituent inquiries or complaints. .

One of the highlights of this whole experience was the seminar with Mr. Thomas Corcoran .. . . It was hard to comprehend that the man sitting right next to us was a man who had sat next to FDR so many times. Yet there he was, describing Franklin as a saint, a phenomenal political artist, a man with a great humanitarian heart who never took his eye off the ball, who was pragmatic enough to know that the world wasn't full of saints ....

Today I tried to rework Mr. Denney's Memorial Day oration of last year. I was really discouraged about the speech, even after managing to organize it a little. I was using the same words as last year, the same tired clichés .... I had to leave most of it alone .... but I did manage to slip Abe Lincoln and the Gettysburg Address in, which can never hurt ....

Tuesday I worked most of the day on a couple of articles the Congressman gave me to memo .... The second concerned President Nixon's proposed budget for FY 1970. I had real problems understanding why there are different totals for appropriations and expenditures, and even more, how it can be planned to spend more than is to be appropriated, but I struggled through. One other cheerful note: Larry ordered a brand new cabinet for all the address stencils, which means that I'll have to rearrange all 23,000 or so. Can't wait.

About 3:00 Mr. Denney came storming into the back office where I work and started to give me hell about the memo I wrote on the Russian ABM system. He was upset about my last sentence which stated . . . . that there was no proof that the system worked. The Congressman . . . . said that someone in the office must be against President Nixon's safeguard system. I finally convinced him, I think, that I was justified in putting in the last sentence .... Later Bill said I handled the logical part of the discussion pretty well, but seemed a bit flustered. I was. He also said that the Congressman gave him a big wink as he left the office.

And a final entry a short time before the program ended:

I don't think I've ever been this happy for this long in my life. Love. Peace. A little sadness that it can't last. That's what I feel right now. Everything, everybody seems good today . . . I've never been so conscious of other people. I've never really relaxed and enjoyed being alive as I am right now. That's not to say there isn't a hell of a lot of work, but its work that means something. It has a purpose, a purpose which is often lost amid the books at Andover.

There are few students who have the intelligence, imagination, and sensitivity to get as much out of the Washington Intern Program as Jim Stover did, but the batting average has been consistently high. What is frustrating to those in charge is that there seems to be no way of expanding it so that more students can have this unusual experience.

Alston Hurd Chase, Instructor in Classics, 1934-1971,
and Head of the Classics Department, 1954-1971.

While these opportunities for off-campus educational opportunities were doing much to enrich the Phillips Academy curriculum, the main academic strength of the School remained in the resident Faculty. In the Kemper years a new group of outstanding teachers came to replace the Titans of the Stearns era. The leading Classicist was Alston Chase, who had one of the finest intellects of anyone who has ever taught on Andover Hill. Fully qualified to teach in college---he had been on the Harvard Faculty before coming to Andover---he preferred to work with younger boys, believing that the secondary school age group was most receptive to what he had to offer. A conservative in both political and educational matters, he insisted on the same precision in the study of Latin and Greek that his predecessors Horace Poynter and Georgie Hinman had, but he achieved his purpose without the use of fear. One can get a clear idea of his educational philosophy from "What is Andover?' "---a paper he wrote the fall after John Kemper arrived. "Andover's primary duty," he said, "its only excuse for existence, is the education of an elite body of men whose intelligence and character shall provide the leadership so badly needed in a democracy." He hoped that the student body would be varied in character---some from the families of professional men, some from wealthy families, and some from the underprivileged---though he warned against romantic notions concerning the third group. Once at Andover, the boys should have fairly rigid requirements. My own conviction is that boys are happier when they are given a few rules with stated penalties for their violation and are then subjected to unvarying application of those rules." And in the last analysis it was the men who taught rather than what they taught that was important. "We teach not only in the classroom. Every hour that we dwell among those boys we are reaching them by our examples, with devastating effectiveness in some instances. They are shrewd and rather merciless judges, with all the perceptiveness of youth and none of the tolerance of age. If we teach one thing with our lips and quite another with our lives, they value each form of teaching at its proper worth. I fear that our particular generation has suffered from a peculiar shyness in testifying to moral truths." He closed by defining Andover as "a school made beautiful by nature and the living hands of many generations, where a group of men of the most varied gifts and interests and beliefs are united in dedication to the pleasant work of teaching boys to love the truth, to cherish honor, and to serve their fellows with wisdom and integrity and grace. "(34) No one ever forgot Alston's classes. He was a redoubtable housemaster as well. Here was a perfect milieu where he could apply his doctrine of a few rules strictly enforced. One might think that undergraduates would prefer the more permissive housemasters, but this was not the case. Each year there was a race to see who could get into his dormitory. Interestingly enough, it was usually the school athletes who flocked to him. Though he was anything but a "jock" type in physical stature, the athletes believed that somehow he could get them through, whip them into line, and produce diplomas in June. And he was not always as strict as his stated policy would imply. One alumnus writes:

Dr. Chase, the Cherubic Classics scholar who was my housemaster during the third year, caught me gambling at cards and informed me this was not permitted. I had studied the rule-book very carefully and told him I could find nothing about gambling. He said it fell into the "conduct-unbecoming-a-gentleman" rule. I reminded him of my readings at the time in 19th century literature, which was full of gentlemen who frequently gambled. He thought this was funny, and I became more careful about my gambling operations.

Another episode indicates more rigidity:

In the springtime Dr. Chase found two boys sitting in an area marked "Keep Off the Grass." In a red-faced (more so than usual) fury, he called, "I'll give you as many demerits as you take steps to get off the grass." (fitting the punishment to the crime). Suffering under the pronouncement of this Rector of Justice did not snuff out the boys' cleverness; they rolled off the lawn. To this point the story is wonderful; the poor-sport ending is that the boys were given demerits anyway.

Alston Chase was a powerful intellectual force in the Andover community, and though many disagreed with him on basic matters of policy, he had the respect of boys and Faculty alike.

Emory Shelby Bas ford, Instructor in English, 1929-1964,
and Head of the English Department, 1945-1964

Another outstanding teacher during the Kemper years was Emory Basford, Head of the English Department for most of the period. He had been hired by Al Stearns and had taught at Andover during the Fuess period, but he reached his full height in the 1950's and 1960's. He was a craftsman who knew how to teach boys how to write, and his literature classes, particularly in American literature, were famous throughout the School. Like Alston Chase he was a bachelor, and like Alston Chase he took his housemastering very seriously. He was concerned that boys become gentlemen as well as pass their courses, and he labored long and hard to achieve this aim. One alumnus remembers the teas he used to give for his students:

I always regarded Emory Basford as one of the finest teachers I knew in that school. From my own standpoint I found his teaching inspirational and I found his friendship, then and now, one of the warm aspects of the school.

Nonetheless, Emory was himself cut of the mold that was somewhat different from most of us boys. He was almost studiously quiet, although a conversationalist in the classic mold. I never knew him to raise his voice .... But one of the things which he always did and for which happily I was often made a part, was his Sunday afternoon tea.

In those days it wasn't terribly popular to be intellectual and certainly I was not tainted with that label in any form. Nevertheless, at those teas I think I was exposed to a little bit of this and made to think of some of the more intellectual and nicer aspects of living and particularly of writing and art, for these were the subjects that were discussed under Emory's sympathetic and gentle guidance. I might also say that I developed a taste for good tea, for Emory always had the very best and there were always some edibles that went with it. I must say that I also enjoyed those edibles because they were a marked contrast to the lousy food in the Commons. I have many happy memories of those afternoon teas during my senior year.

Another alumnus writes in a similar vein:

The singular influence on my life was Emory Basford's. I impressed him once by knowing Max Beerbohm's Zuleika Dobson; from that moment he believed that beneath my playboy facade lay a seed of intelligence, and that belief may well have changed my life. Emory's belief in me was soon pitted against Bitch Freeman's conviction I was a worthless student and Andover would be a better place without me. Emory prevailed and it made for a turnaround in my academic career.

The same alumnus concludes about Andover in general:

I had a wildly good time at Andover, thanks to a sort of Foreign Legion, misfits from all over the eastern school system who arrived when I did in 1936, having proved too much for Groton and St. Paul's. We went into PAE and we tried and failed as athletes and scholars, but I have never laughed so often, nor so joyfully as I did in that first Andover year.

Finally, during these years Emory Basford served as a kind of conscience of the Faculty. Time and time again in Faculty meeting he would call attention to the fact that the School was abandoning its principles. The seriousness with which his statements were listened to, from the Headmaster on down, was a measure of the respect all had for the man.

Leonard Frank James, Instructor in History, 1932-1970,
and Head of the History Department, 1956-1970

Another unforgettable teacher during the Kemper years was Leonard F. James, who succeeded Arthur B. Darling as Head of the History Department in the 1960's. As has been noted, the course in American history---History 4---had been under attack for the excessive number of failures that resulted each year. One of the difficulties had been that the students---and particularly the slow students---did not understand the examination questions. Len determined to correct this fault and insisted that all questions be crystal clear. As a result the failure rate dropped markedly in the 1960's and much of the neurotic apprehension about the course disappeared. In the classroom, however, Len really shone. A peppery man with a short fuse, he used to stimulate his students to discussion through sarcasm, insult, gentle encouragement---in short every trick in the book. At times he would take an outlandish position on a controversial subject and then defend it against student attack. The result was a constant ferment as boys learned to think about the implications of what they were studying. He was a hard taskmaster who had no use for shoddy work, and the record of his students on the AP exam bore this out. In 1969 a group of his students published a little pamphlet entitled "Quotations from Chairman Leonard," which reflects his classroom procedure.(35)

On History 4--- Preparation for this course should take you no more than an hour a day.

On Hitler--- Hitler was a first class thug.

To a Student--- I defended you today. Somebody said you were a very able person and I said you weren't.

On Neckties--- Did your dog buy it? You don't have to show it to me, I heard it coming up the stairs.

On Water--- A glass of water is not a glass of water without the glass.

On John Brown--- John Brown was a first class thug.

On Idealism--- Being an idealist is a lot of baloney.

On Punctuality--- You know you're going to be late for your own damn funeral. People will be crying for you and you won't even be there.

On Monthly Tests--- This exam is straight-forward.

On Coming to Class Late--- Coming back from the dead?

On Submarine Warfare--- The Lusitania got what it deserved.

On a Debate--- Get off your duff and get down to brass tacks. Oh, come on, let's not talk puppy love. If you look at it from a non-SDS point of view. . .

On World War I--- Germany was a thug surrounded by thugs.

On Disagreement--- Well it is, you damn fool.

On China--- It's about time Chiang Kai-Shek dropped dead.

On Arabs--- Let's discuss the flea-bitten Arabs.

In addition to being a top-notch classroom teacher, Len James was also a housemaster of parts. One alumnus writes:

he was my housemaster in Adams, where the atmosphere was softened by his Scandinavian wife .... He was thought of as somewhat strict, and, as a result, the boys on the top floor devised an experiment: one would crouch on the mantlepiece and jump while his roommate hid behind the door with a stopwatch to time Mr. James's arrival on the threshold. As I recall, his record time was 10 seconds.

Although Len James wrote several textbooks and was active in the Advanced Placement Program, he will always be best remembered at Andover as one of the most stimulating and challenging classroom teachers of his generation.

Dudley Fitts, Instructor in English, 1941-1968.

Dudley Fitts of the English Department was sui generis. There had never been anyone like him at Andover in the past, and it is highly unlikely that there will ever be anyone like him in the future. A distinguished poet and translator, an accomplished musician, a man who seemed to have read everything ever printed, he held memorable classes in the basement of Bulfinch Hall, where his barbed wit constantly provoked sparks in classroom discussion. Just before he came to Andover in the 1940's from Choate, he came to the Hill for a visit and because of his musical talent was asked to conduct a Faculty madrigal group in the singing of "Happy, Oh Happy He." The group produced what they thought was a respectable rendition, only to have Fitts say at the end, with a baleful expression, "That was obscene." No one participating in that exercise has ever forgotten the experience---or Fitt's comment---and his students must have been treated to the same fare on many occasions. One alumnus writes:

Fitts's ringing challenges were another matter---his is the last mind by whom I have felt completely overawed---and his cultivation (whether by challenge or encouragement) of one's sense of personal strength gave me an intellectual character that has not changed, really, at all since I left PA. He gave my already synthetic mind a strong push towards questioning the nature of things. I remember walking into Fitts's class on the first day and being told to take a piece of paper and write for fifty minutes on the subject "Toasted Suzie is My Ice Cream" (a line from Gertrude Stein).

David Slavitt, the poet and novelist, P.A. 1952, knew Fitts intimately both at Andover and in later life and has written an admirable study of the man and his poetry.(36) A few excerpts:

Fitts missed more classes than any other Andover master. Sometimes he would show up, find that he could not face an hour's performance, and instead, scrawl something on the blackboard and say, "Write for an hour, gentlemen," and then leave. It was exhilarating that anyone could get away with such behavior, and because he was able to do so ... his authority was enormously increased. That authority, however, was based on other, more general considerations .... And his manner was not only authoritative but authoritarian. He was famous for his wit and his sarcasm of which we, as an honors group, were prime beneficiaries and victims. It was a matter of pride to be insulted by Mr. Fitts.

Fitts's high, rather nasal voice, to which from sickness or perhaps affectation there was an occasional quaver, was a perfect instrument for the delivery of quite withering but very elegant insults .... I remember, for instance, his scribbled notations in the margin of a paper I had written in which I had misused "should" and 'would." The letters "I.E." and "E.I." appeared wherever I had erred. After class I went up to ask him what these letters meant, " 'I.E.' stands for immigrant English, and 'E.I.' means Ellis Island, and don't ever make that mistake again," he said, looking quite pleased with himself, for I had taken the bait perfectly and had been fairly gaffed.

I looked up the usage of "should" and "would", learned it, and have not made that mistake since. I owe the man thanks, then, for doing his job, teaching me English. But what overkill! . . . we were right for each other. He could vent his anger with insults, the barbs of which were tricked out in the bright feathers of wit, and I could turn insults into solicitousness and friendship . . . At any rate I was not put off. Instead, I sought him out, brought poems I had written for him to read, and met with him in his study in his house in Hidden Field, once every week or so for most of the year.

Once that initial salvo had served its purpose by demonstrating his authority and my respect for it, he could afford to relax a little, and at each visit he would go through the poems I had brought him, and, with much wit and energy, explain what was bad, why this didn't work, and that, and how I might have improved here, and where I was being imitative there. Line by line, and sometimes word by word, he would go over these hastily written attempts of mine, and, every now and then, discover a line, two, or even four that were interesting, promising, or even good. At the end of the session, he would give me tea and then dismiss me, usually with some joke or clever line, frequently one that was over my head and that sent me to the dictionary or the library where I would try to figure out what he had meant, sometimes succeeding, sometimes not.

Fitts's fame as an English teacher spread well beyond Andover. David Slavitt tells of his experiences at Yale, where, as a Fitts-trained student, he was encouraged to take advanced and graduate courses in English almost immediately. Jacques Barzun, in Teacher in America, remarked on the number of students trained by Dudley Fitts who knew how to write literate, if not polished, English.(37) For a good part of his last days at Andover, Dudley Fitts suffered from a crippling illness; yet his wit and his brilliant incisiveness never faltered, and he finished his career, as he had begun it, an inspiration to most of the students who sat at his feet.

Here is an unusually perceptive and thoughtful general account of the School in the early 1960's, written by James S. Kunen, '66.

In many ways P.A. from 1962-1966 was more similar to the P.A. of 1910 than to the P.A. of 1970--- I was proud of the fact that Andover had a broad spectrum of students---that one third were on scholarship---that P.A. was not an elitist school. It did not strike me as strange that there were only three or four Blacks at P.A. It did not even strike me as strange that scholarship boys were set apart from the rest of us by having to do work around school---extended Commons duty and so forth. I had a white, middle-class background and that rather narrow world-view remained intact during four years at P.A. The seeds of rebellion had not yet poked above the soil during my P.A. years.

The great Northwest Power Blackout was metaphorically significant. A third of the nation was plunged into darkness, but P.A., with its own power plant, shone on. I noticed that the town street lights and traffic signals were out. Otherwise I wouldn't have known anything had happened. P.A. was quite insulated. We didn't have much time for newspapers, either. Wasn't there an enormous Civil Rights Movement at the time? We were not terribly aware of it.

Inside we lived in a male adolescent world exclusively. There was little evidence of adults around once classes and sports were over for the day. It was almost like Lord of the Flies . . . . Naturally, physical ability and cultural conformity were at a premium and pressures were extreme .... I know that some boys who were dubbed "Fliers" were terribly unhappy at Andover. Of course some people are going to feel rejected anywhere, but the problem was extreme at Andover because there were few sources of support other than peer group support---no parents, no family. There were few supportive relationships between faculty and students. For one thing a plethora of petty regulations which the faculty had to support created an adversary relationship .... The most vivid example of the gulf of distrust between students and faculty that I experienced occurred one night during upper year when a boy in my dormitory stayed up all night cutting himself with a razor blade, and we, his dorm mates, stayed up all night trying to stop him, and no one went to the housemaster for fear the boy would get kicked out.

In fact, some of the most creative kids in our class got kicked out. To this day that is the sore point in my relationship with Andover.

I will always resent the way P.A. dealt with boys who had difficult problems---get rid of them. Out of sight, out of mind .... It seems to me Andover was just typically American in its approach to people who cause problems---get rid of them, hide them.

The most valuable things I got out of Andover were the friendships I made there. I've been out ten years and my closest friends are still my friends from Andover. It may be that there is an extra dimension to friendships made in an all-male situation. What was especially valuable was that you had to come to terms with everybody .... There was no escape for the harpsichordist from the football player, or vice versa .... Though there was not as much socioeconomic diversity as I naively thought there to be at the time, there certainly was a wide range of characters there and we all got to know each other well. P.A. was our "army", P.A. friends our "army buddies."

We didn't think very much about P.A. while we were there---not critically, I mean . . . . Anyone who believes that sexual energy can be sublimated into creative activity could find great support for the theory in our P.A. years.... We were dynamos. Some of us have been resting up ever since. I have never taken a course of study as rigorous at college or law school. And at law school a physical education instructor doesn't tie you up and throw you into a twelve-foot pool for fifteen minutes. He made it very clear that there was something lacking in your masculinity if you didn't meet and beat such physical challenges. His "drown-proofing" exemplified the 19th century Capitalist values which were still going strong at Andover in 1962-1966 . . . . We had to meet other people's expectations. We had to live by other people's values. We had to do things which seemed pointless and maybe were pointless. In short, we were made to do things we did not want to do. I don't know anyone who regrets that.

Andover was an institution which believed in itself. Mr. Kemper said that Chapel was optional because if you didn't like it you could go to school some place else. We called that "chapel reasoning", mocked the argument, and bridled at the school's intransigence, but at least we had something to rebel against which did not collapse before us. There was order in our universe. I think we felt secure.

As this passage suggests Phillips Academy changed very little in the 1950's and early 1960's. To be sure, the Societies were gone, but in almost all other areas of school life conditions were similar to those of the 1930's and 1940's. In part, at least, this static state of affairs was a reflection of the relaxed condition of the country during the Eisenhower years. For the most part, the undergraduates accepted the regimen that the Faculty and Administration had laid out for them. They were serious in purpose, aimed at admission to a top Ivy League college, and planned on graduate school after that. There were, of course, the usual student highjinks, but compared with what was to happen in the late 1960's, Andover Hill was a very peaceful place. The one thing that was new was the Headmaster and his relationship to the undergraduates. In dealing with the various constitutencies that go to make up the greater Andover community, John Kemper batted close to a thousand in dealing with Trustees, Faculty, parents, alumni, and general public. It was only in dealing with the undergraduates that he had any trouble. And this is hard to understand, for he was certainly the fairest and kindest of men. Those who worried about his military background and feared the establishment of a military system of discipline were soon reassured. John Kemper was more liberal in this area than his predecessors and believed in giving a boy a second, if not a third, chance wherever possible. Yet he was uncomfortable when addressing the whole School and some of his statements rubbed the boys the wrong way. Early in his term he returned from a long alumni trip and found that in his absence the students had engaged in some kind of reprehensible ructions. He then gave his famous "I'm tired" speech that antagonized many students. He said that not only was he tired, but he was "tired of being tired," seeming to imply that it was the undergraduates' fault. They felt the charge was unfair and reacted accordingly. On the other hand, a boy who was present for the speech came to believe that John Kemper moved Andover from strength to strength and became "a wonderful model of saintly mellowness of character" toward the end. Another alumnus who roomed in the Headmaster's house describes a very revealing episode:

The Headmaster used to have us in for milk shakes and snacks with his family on selected Saturday nights. One Saturday night a student was making a milk shake with great gusto when the top slipped and sprayed the shake across the kitchen. Kemper, in an attempt to make light of the matter, said, "I guess there are soda jerks and just plain jerks", but he didn't quite pull off the joke, and it took us some time later that night to convince the boy that no criticism was intended. It was particularly sad, though, because some successes along those lines would have made a big difference to the students.

When the students challenged him on legitimate grounds, however, he could act magnificently:

That year, John Kemper received as a gift a great black behemoth of a car, a classic in mint condition.(38) ... Our consuming goal was to get a ride in that magnificent auto. Through one of our fathers we obtained a proper black chauffeur's hat with "Mason" emblazoned on its metal insignia. Summoning up our honours English, we composed a Victorian epistle, requesting that the recipient, one JMK, please be present to motor us to Commons the following day at 7:30 a.m. With some trepidation, we signed the note and mailed it to the Headmaster's house. To our awestruck delight, at the appointed hour, John Kemper showed up, wearing the hat, and duly ferried us to the Commons. Many may have thought him slightly aloof, but we knew better.

John Kemper believed that if a boy had to be dismissed, the School had somehow failed, and he did everything in his power to find new ways of dealing with undergraduate problems. When he found no mitigating circumstances, however, he could be as stern as Uncle Sam Taylor, as the following episode illustrates:

My last memory of Mr. Kemper is when he was presiding over the Discipline Committee that was to decide my fate after being caught selling phony I.D. cards to my colleagues, for use in buying liquor, the drinking age being 21. The cards were replicas of some White Citizens Committee organization in Atlanta, Georgia, with the forged signature of the Chief of Police of Atlanta. A picture of the card holder glued onto it made it complete and surprisingly effective. I got a dollar apiece and had been making beer and pool money for two years before being caught, one month before graduation, after four years of attendance. The main point Mr. Kemper made was that I had violated the law of the land and didn't I feel I deserved the worst? I asked him if he had ever had the occasion to drink alcoholic beverages during prohibition. He declined to answer and informed me of the Committee's decision to expel me.

Another anecdote:

In the spring of my Lower year we arrived for morning chapel to find the ceiling of the Cochran Chapel covered with helium-filled balloons .... Shortly John Kemper arrived and walked into the chapel through the front doors. He halted, stunned, plainly angry. Then he moved determinedly through to the robing area. When he and the chaplains emerged, we were anticipating a serious tongue-lashing. Instead, Mr. Baldwin, the head chaplain, read e.e.cummings' "Chanson Innocent."(39) By the end of the poem, John Kemper, too, was smiling.

Early in his Andover career John Kemper decided that he should do some teaching so as to get the feel of the place and selected a class in Algebra I for his experiment. A former pupil remembers the class with pleasure:

I regard it as most fortunate that I was in the next to last Algebra class Johnny Kemper taught . . . . He often said that he "Kept his finger on the school pulse" thru the 15 or so juniors to whom he taught Algebra I. Unlike many of my classmates, I and my Algebra students felt that we "knew" Johnny, and Andover was unquestionably a warmer and friendlier place for us from the experience. It was fun to be called by your first name by the Headmaster as I piled into the football stands as a French Horn player in the band. This was the 1950's version of an ego trip!

What student doesn't like to get his teachers off the subject and our class with Johnny was no exception; it was even more exciting with the headmaster. We learned a lot of history of the Academy and Johnny got into the habit of using figures about the school's endowment, investments, and holdings to get us interested in the problems of Algebra I. We, of course, went off to our dorms with "inside information and deep dark secrets about PA's finances."

Another admirer writes:

John Kemper carried himself like one of his ancestors who led at Gettysburg and in no little way did this impression lead me to favor the lost cause of the South .... Kemper was a gentleman from the way he observed our games to the way he addressed a chapel service. To grow up to be like John Kemper was an ideal at the time: he radiated dignity.

In the 1950's without question the great majority of Andover undergraduates respected John Kemper, even if they did not feel close to him. In the 1960's this relationship began to deteriorate, even before the crises evolving out of student protest late in the decade. For one thing, the Andover Program drive forced him to be away a lot, and he lost his close touch with the School. He had developed a nervous habit of clearing his throat frequently during his speeches, and the undergraduates, annoyed by this habit, used to clear theirs at the same time. When, after the Surgeon General's report, the School banned smoking completely, he continued to smoke, which angered some students. Most important, he was by training and principle completely opposed to the student life style of the 1960's---the drugs, the long hair, the general sloppiness, the mocking of old institutions and practices. Had John Kemper been asked about his relations with the undergraduates, he would undoubtedly have said that he was not running a popularity contest. It was his job to see that the School was running well, and it was running well. Yet it is sad to think that only a handful of undergraduates ever got to know him well enough to understand his extraordinary qualities of character and humanity.

 

In many ways the climax of the Kemper administration came with the Andover Program, initiated in 1959 and completed in the early 1960's. Up to this point in the history of the School, there had never been a program so carefully researched, so efficiently organized, and so successfully realized. Yet it was only the climax to a building program that had begun in the early 1950's. When John Kemper took office, it was clear that the School needed a new gymnasium. The Borden Gym, considered the most modern of athletic facilities when it was built in 1902, could no longer meet the School's needs. It was too small, its equipment was antiquated, and it could not provide adequate facilities for boys interested in particular sports, especially in the winter. For years student polls in the yearbook had placed a new gymnasium in first place as Andover's greatest need, and shortly after John Kemper became Headmaster, the students attempted to show that they meant business in this matter by raising about five thousand dollars toward a new gym. This was impressive evidence that the need was real, and in 1951 the Trustees took over and before long the building became a reality. There was no attempt to launch a special drive to raise the sum needed---more than one million dollars. A substantial number of gifts came in voluntarily, and the Trustees voted to borrow from the endowment for any additional funds needed.

Antiquated as it was, the Borden Gymnasium was still a useful building; to tear it down would be a real waste of facilities. As a result it was decided to tie the new facility into the old building. This presented some architectural problems, for Borden was Victorian while the new building was to be modern; but after a certain amount of flak the problem was happily resolved. In similar fashion it was decided not to build a completely new swimming pool but to enlarge and remodel the old one. When the building was completed, it more than met the hopes of those who had worked so long and hard to get it erected. The most striking feature of what was christened the Memorial Gymnasium, in memory of Andover graduates killed in World War II, was the main floor, large enough to contain three basketball courts. Previously, the single court in Borden had severely limited the number of boys who could engage in this sport. Movable partitions made it possible to divide the main floor into play areas of different size and gave flexibility to the physical education program. Another striking feature of the new building was the movable stands for spectators. Facing one way, they would command the basketball courts; turned around and facing the other way they would command the swimming pool. Over one thousand spectators could be accommodated---again a vast improvement over Borden, where only a few hundred could be crowded in. The swimming pool itself was enlarged from four to six lanes, and a special diving pool was added at one end, with a high board as well as a low board. In addition there were squash courts, wrestling rooms, and, perhaps most important, locker space adequate for the whole School. The building was dedicated in February 1953, with Admiral William Halsey giving the address.

With the completion of the Memorial Gymnasium the whole program of athletics and physical education at Phillips Academy took a great leap forward.(40) Hockey had been having a hard time of it for many years. Hockey players usually spent a good part of the winter running cross country because there was no ice on the outdoor rinks. If there was ice, there was the problem of shoveling off the snow. One Andover hockey team had not played a single game before it met Exeter in the Boston Garden. Again the undergraduates applied pressure to the Trustees and Administration, and in the late 1950'S Sumner Smith, P.A. 1908, agreed to provide the funds to construct an artificial rink. This did wonders for the Andover hockey program, but it soon became clear that the uncovered rink could not function at maximum efficiency without a roof, and that objective was included as part of the Andover Program. Thus well before the program was launched, Headmaster Kemper could boast of two splendid new additions to the School plant.(41)

Any institution that embarks on a fund drive of the magnitude of the Andover Program must depend heavily---if not exclusively---on its alumni. Fortunately for Phillips Academy, the Andover Alumni Association had been thoroughly reorganized in 1956 and was in vigorous condition. It will be remembered that what was to all intents and purposes a brand new organization had been established in 1946. The experience of ten years had indicated the need for certain changes, and as a result a Committee was appointed under the chairmanship of Edward Robie, to revise the Alumni Constitution. Alumni Council President David A. Dudley, '28, also provided strong leadership. The new constitution enlarged the Council to sixty-five members, reduced the previous number of committees, many of which had been moribund anyway, integrated the Class Secretaries Association and the Class Agents Association into the Council---they had previously been operating independently---and increased representation from the Trustees, the School Administration, and the Faculty. Without question the most important change was in the provision for Alumni Trustees. Hitherto the Board of Trustees had consisted of charter members and no one else. Now alumni representatives would sit with the Board and take part in their deliberations, though because of the School's Constitution, they could not vote. The President of the Alumni Council was automatically an Alumnus Trustee, and each year another alumnus would be elected by the alumni body for a three-year term. There is no question that Alumni Trustees quickened interest in the School on the part of the alumni body as a whole. In addition, they provided valuable counsel to the Board on many occasions. In several instances Alumni Trustees proved so useful that they were elected Charter Trustees after their term had expired. As a result of these changes, the Andover alumni body was a well organized group with a high morale. When the School turned to them for help with the Andover Program, they would not be found wanting.(42)

Speaking at the launching of the Andover Program early in 1959, Headmaster Kemper said:

Education must meet our era of unparallelled rapidity of change with new ideas, new attitudes, and new techniques and tools, while holding fast to the enduring values of the past .... By reason of its history, traditions, and present strength, including pre-eminently, the loyalty of its alumni body, Andover has an inescapable obligation for example and leadership.

A deep, underlying cause for action now is clear evidence of the dangers facing the nation. To every thinking person it is obvious that our schools must be immeasurably strengthened---and rapidly---if the country is to survive what will undoubtedly be a long period of severe testing of its intellectual and moral resources.(43)

John Kemper was to play a leading role in this program. Donald H. McLean, Jr., '28, General Chairman of the Andover Program campaign, had this to say of the Kemper contribution:

Throughout the campaign the Headmaster's leadership was vital in two areas---on the one hand as master planner, on the other as leading spokesman .... His determination was a continuing source of inspiration. And I suspect strongly that when future historians evaluate this period of Andover's history they will refer to it as the Kemper Program. In my opinion such a judgment will be entirely fitting. (44)

When the Headmaster announced the opening of the Andover Program campaign, a great deal of preliminary planning had already taken place. A Faculty Committee and a Trustee Committee had both worked on the needs of the School and had come to general agreement. Their recommendations were then turned over to the Alumni Council's Committee on Educational Policy and Administration, under the chairmanship of John U. Monro, P.A. '30. This group went over the recommendations with a fine-tooth comb, challenged the Faculty and Trustees on various matters, and were finally responsible for inclusion of a wing for the library in the program, in the belief that the program needed additional intellectual facilities to give it balance. With the goals agreed upon, Dean Alan Blackmer prepared a comprehensive workbook that would lay out the specific reasoning behind the various proposals.(45) As finally codified, the program included the following proposals:

For Teachers and Students

Phillips Academy's aim is to have a Faculty salary scale second to none, with a range of from $4,000 to $12,000 and with perquisites of from $1,000 to $3,000.

The Andover Teaching Fellowship Program, initiated a few years earlier, whereby college graduates could serve as apprentice teachers at the school, must be continued and supported.

Scholarship funds must be maintained at a high level so that the school could say that there was not a boy in America who could not afford Andover.(46)

In committing themselves to these objectives, the Trustees made a vital decision. They voted to depend on tuition, endowment income, and annual giving for the funds necessary to implement them. Thus none of the funds raised in the Andover Program campaign would go for these purposes. All the energies of the campaign could, therefore, be devoted to raising money for capital improvements, totaling a little over six million dollars. Specifically the program entailed the following projects:

The Sciences

A new Science building to meet the needs of the school. School enrollment had gone up 25 percent in the past twenty-five years, science course enrollment, 60 percent. The old building, Morse Hall, was clearly inadequate.

A remodeling of Morse Hall to provide additional classroom space. Only 32 percent of Andover teachers had classrooms of their own.

The Library The construction of an additional wing at the rear of the Oliver Wendell Holmes Library. Such a wing would relieve crowded reference rooms and provide a reading room for American history students and a place where they could write research papers.
The Arts The enlarging and modernizing of the George Washington Hall stage; the construction of a workshop area for painting, sculpture, woodworking, metal working, and the like; the building of an Audio-Visual Center for producing films and slide-tapes; and the inclusion of a lecture hall with a small stage. The aim in all this was to have as many boys as possible engage in creative work of their own.
Housing The construction of five new dormitories, the remodeling of old dormitories so as to provide commons rooms, and the elimination of old substandard housing.
Religion The construction of a small chapel in the basement of the Cochran Chapel to provide for special services for boys of different faiths.
Athletics The construction of a roof for the hockey rink, a crew boathouse, additional playing fields, and an extension to the Cage.(47)

It was an ambitious, exciting program. If realized, it would transform the School almost as much as the Cochran program of the 1920's. It now remained to raise the six million dollars.

That job was entrusted to Donald H. McLean, Jr., P.A. '28, and it is hard to see how the School could have picked a better man. He may have said that he thought the program should be called the Kemper Program, but it could equally well have been called the Kemper-McLean Program. A lawyer on the staff of John D. Rockefeller, 3rd, McLean had had wide experience in dealing with people in a variety of different situations, and this experience was to prove more and more valuable as the campaign developed. The prospect was an awesome one. Never before in the history of the country had a private secondary school attempted a campaign of this magnitude. When it became clear that all systems were "go," McLean began to build up his organization. For professional advice on money-raising he turned to the firm of Kersting, Brown and Company, and particularly to Robert F. Duncan, who conducted a survey among influential Andover alumni and parents to get a feel for the climate of opinion about a drive. Next McLean needed a right-hand man, whom he found in Frederic A. Stott '36. Stott had served as Alumni Secretary for several years previously and was an ideal man for Executive Secretary of the Campaign. A Steering Committee of Trustees, Alumni, and Parents would serve as the spearhead of the campaign for the next two years. Meeting in Andover in the fall of 1958, this Committee decided, first, that solicitation would be on a person-to-person basis. They drew up a table indicating the size and number of gifts that would be needed in different categories-one gift of over a million dollars, two gifts between half a million and a million, eight gifts between $100,000 and half a million, and so on. A campaign headquarters was established in New York City. Not only would that make life infinitely easier for Chairman McLean himself; most of the members of the Steering Committee and a substantial number of potentially large donors also lived in that area. The next step was to set up Special Gift Committees to deal with potentially large donors in areas where they were concentrated. Eventually, twelve such committees were established. For the general campaign, committees were organized in every city in the country where there were twenty-five or more alumni. Appalling though the magnitude of this task may seem, in a surprisingly short time volunteer committee organizations had been established in over two hundred and fifty different communities. McLean received staunch support from R. L. (Tim) Ireland, III, P.A. '38, who performed heroically as National Alumni Chairman, and from Thomas M. Evans, who agreed to serve as Parent Chairman. Mr. Evans' contribution may be seen in Stimson House, which was given by the Parents of Andover boys, and in his own generous contribution to the new Science Building that bears his name. The campaign got off to a fast start. When the Headmaster announced it in March 1959, the Trustees by themselves had already pledged over one million dollars. By that June, two and one half million dollars had been pledged by 187 donors. The fall of 1959 saw numerous trips by Headmaster Kemper and his Assistant, James R. Adriance, P.A. '28, to the increasing number of communities where Tim Ireland's volunteer committees were operating. The Headmaster, incidentally, was very diffident about fund raising; he knew he must do it, but he always felt uncomfortable asking people for money. The trouble was that because he was very good at it, the leaders of the campaign worked him hard. By the end of 1959 over four million dollars had been raised, including a gift for the new library wing from James S. Copley, P.A. '35. Those in charge of the drive did not limit themselves to the United States. There was a Canadian Committee and dinners for Andover alumni in both Paris and London. Early in 1960 the campaign seemed to drag, but all concerned with it received a shot in the arm when R. Crosby Kemper, Jr., P.A. announced his intention of giving the auditorium for the Arts and Communications Center. When at Commencement 1960, a little over a year after the formal campaign had been announced, it was reported that the School had received over five and one half million dollars from 4,413 donors, there was clearly light at the end of the tunnel. By the fall of 1960 there was only $200,000 to go and by the end of the year the drive was over the top with a preliminary total of $6,235,000.

This was certainly a magnificent achievement, as to both the amount raised and the speed with which it had been raised. Characteristically, Chairman McLean had some thoughtful comments to make about the whole operation once it had been completed. He attributed some of the success to the generally favorable economic climate that had prevailed in the country during the campaign. Andover also benefited because Yale, where so many Andover graduates had gone, was not campaigning at the same time, even though Harvard and Princeton were. The success of the Harvard drive was probably a help, for many people believed that Andover was doing at the secondary school level what Harvard was doing at the collegiate level. The Chairman was convinced that the person-to-person approach had paid off also; although a large amount of attractively printed material had been prepared for distribution to those who could not be reached directly, it was the personal touch that counted. The costs of the campaign were modest: 5.6 percent of the total amount raised went for operating expense, a percentage generally considered low by professionals. And Chairman McLean went on to spell out the guiding principles that had governed the campaign:

1. Before contributions are sought a well-documented case must be prepared---one which can withstand cross-examination by reasonable men.
2. Those closest to the institution are those from whom major support should be expected.
3. People respond to other people, not to the mail of other people.
4. A number of substantial gifts must be secured as well as a large number of gifts.
5. The more people active in the campaign organization, the larger the number of givers.
6. People contribute when they are asked by others to contribute-and seldom until they are asked. Moreover, people are more effective in asking others to give when they have made their own commitment first.(48)

These principles provide food for thought for any would-be fund-raiser. In summing up the gifts, the Chairman reported that over 5,000 Alumni had contributed over five million dollars, over eight hundred parents had contributed over one million dollars, and something over $200,000 had come from Foundations, Corporations, and friends, for a final total of $6,763,971.(49)

Finally, in considering the implications of a campaign such as the Andover Program the Chairman wondered whether it was necessary every generation for private institutions to engage in ventures of this kind. He came to the conclusion that it was because there was no effective alternative. To try to raise capital funds from tuition would price a School out of the market. And he thought it a useful exercise for an institution to go through a process of self-analysis, as it must do if it is to present a case to the public. For him one of the greatest things about the Andover Program was the evidence it presented of the loyalty and generosity of countless friends of the school---evidence that made the institution's future look bright indeed.

The Andover Program buildings more than realized the hopes of their planners. As one after another of the new structures was completed, the face of the Hill was altered and excitement mounted. Benjamin Thompson, the member of Architects Collaborative of Cambridge who was in charge of the Andover Program buildings, came up with some brilliant solutions to the problem of fitting new structures with modern construction into the already existing older plant. Particularly successful was his design for the Copley Wing on the library, where the wing was to be virtually surrounded by older buildings. Without being imitative, he designed the wing so that it would be modern in concept and at the same time blend in easily with the older buildings. The Copley Wing immediately took much of the pressure off the older reference rooms in the Library and for a few years served as a study hall for American history students as well. When the American history course started using paperbacks instead of having the students read from texts on reserve in the Copley Wing, this function of the wing came to an end. Thompson was equally successful in his design for the new dormitories in the Rabbit Pond area, using glass and modern construction but retaining brick so as to make the new buildings fit the rest of the campus. Headmaster John Kemper had some new plans for the housemasters of these dormitories. He had come to the conclusion that there were not enough good housemasters to go around and so he proposed a scheme whereby a forty-boy dormitory, with two entries of twenty boys each, would have a senior housemaster and a junior housemaster responsible to the former. He hoped that the influence and expertise of an older, experienced housemaster could thereby be extended to the whole dorm. But he reckoned without the desire for autonomy on the part of the junior housemasters, who chafed under the control of their seniors and wanted to run their own show. As a result, after a few years' trial, the scheme was abandoned.

At the start the new dormitories in the Rabbit Pond area housed only Seniors, which led to the area acquiring the unfortunate name of "Senior City." Later, when vertical housing was introduced, this was changed. No matter what boys were living in them, however, they provided extremely comfortable living quarters, with spacious commons rooms to foster social exchanges among the students and Faculty. The new athletic facilities were equally successful. A handsome wooden roof on the Sumner Smith hockey rink made it possible to use that facility eighteen hours a day---for part of which time it was rented out to other institutions---and aroused so much interest in hockey and skating as to suggest the need for another rink. New tennis courts, new playing fields, an extension to the Cage to make it possible to run a fifty-yard dash in winter track, a new boathouse---all these enriched the lives of Andover students. The new Science building was magnificent. Constructed with three wings---one for physics, one for chemistry, and one for biology---it was so flexible that the space for each of these three sciences could be adjusted to fit enrollment. A certain amount of flak developed over a Japanese cherry tree, located directly in front of the main entrance. Science building supporters wanted to chop it down so as to display the main entrance; environmentalists were outraged at the thought. Eventually the latter won, and the cherry tree stayed. The most interesting of all the buildings was the Art and Communication Center; its purpose was not only to house existing facilities in the arts, but to encourage the development of new activities that, it was hoped, would come into being once adequate facilities were provided. The remodeling of the stage of George Washington Hall made possible the production of much more sophisticated dramatic works, but it was the small, experimental theater below the main stage that attracted the most student interest. A generation before, the School might mount two or three dramatic productions a year; now there seemed to be nearly one a week. The provision for a well equipped photography workshop resulted in a burgeoning of interest in photography; and the Audio-Visual Center, under the brilliant direction of Gordon Bensley, was soon making it possible for all manner of classes to see movies and slide tapes that enriched their understanding of the subject under study.

Buildings on the Phillips Academy campus constructed under the Andover Program.

 

A. Audio-Visual Center

B. New Stages in George Washington Hall
Five new Dormitories in the Rabbit Pond Area

C. Stearns House

D. Stevens House

E. Stimson House

F. Fuess House

G. Nathan Hale House

H. Evans Hall, the new Science Building

I. The Copley Wing on the Oliver Wendell Holmes Library

J. Roof for the Hockey Rink

K. Rafferty Playing Fields

L. Common Rooms for the West Quadrangle Dormitories

M. Remodeling of Morse Hall

N. Sylvia Kemper Chapel in the Basement of the Cochran Chapel

O. Extension of Cage

The Kemper Auditorium, about a quarter the size of George Washington Hall, has been used on countless occasions for relatively small gatherings, and the Underwood Room has become a community center where, for example, Seniors come for coffee and cookies in midmorning. The remodeling of Morse Hall for the Mathematics Department, the remodeling of West Quadrangle dorms so as to provide them with Commons Rooms, the construction of two new Faculty houses, and, finally, the construction of what was named the Sylvia Kemper Chapel, after the wife of the Headmaster, who had died, all served useful purposes and stimulated undergraduate activities previously handicapped by lack of adequate facilities.(50) As always, there were some problems with the new construction, but in a few years these difficulties were surmounted, and the School was free to enjoy its new riches. The Andover Program was so well conceived and so well planned that the need for new buildings has been virtually nonexistent until recently. The merger with Abbot Academy, increasing the size of the School and introducing girls into the undergraduate body, has led to the demand for a new---or at least a remodeled---Commons and the construction of athletics facilities for girls, but given the undergraduate body they were building for, those in charge of the Andover Program did their job with rare vision.

A capstone was placed on the Andover Program and the achievements of the Kemper Administration when Time Magazine, in its 26 October 1962 issue, put John Kemper on its cover and devoted its cover story to Andover in particular and eastern preparatory schools in general. The theme of the article, as announced on the cover, was "Excellence and Intensity in U.S. Prep Schools," with the caption "Andover's John Kemper" beneath his picture. The picture itself made the Headmaster look pretty grim, with an almost sharklike mouth that many found uncharacteristic. According to the story circulated on the Hill, the artist's first rendition of the Headmaster made him look benign and benevolent, as indeed he was. But this did not fit the "intensity" theme, and the artist was ordered to make him look more intense. The result was a slitlike mouth that made him indeed look intense. He passed it off lightly, telling people that Time wanted the public to know that he could bite. Aside from the severe portrait, the article gave Phillips Academy very high marks indeed. It opened by citing the belief of Andover supporters that it was "the nation's best prep school." The authors were impressed by the dramatic changes that had taken place in private schools since the war: "By snubbing Social Register dullards and by combing the country for bright recruits of all races, religions, and incomes, they are fast becoming more democratic than homogeneous suburban public schools." And both Andover and Exeter were becoming "national public schools," with representatives from almost every state in the Union. As for the Headmaster, Time said, "Kemper's gifts for hard analysis and easy leadership galvanized Andover. Today, Harvard College's Dean John Monro calls Kemper 'one of the really great headmasters.' " Yet the Headmaster has plenty of problems: "He worries about the lucky-me attitude that affects many Andover boys. He wonders how to teach them a sense of humanity and public service. He wants the school to serve. 'We should be identified with public school,' he says. 'Our job is to be available to anyone who wants to use us. We must be of service." There was no question about the "excellence" part of an Andover education: "The average Andover graduate, says College Board President Frank H. Broyles, 'could enter junior year in a great many colleges without risk of failure.' " In speaking of his own upbringing, John Kemper said, "Father expected all of us to be officers and gentlemen, which was hard for my sisters but not for me." Time was impressed with the Andover Teaching Fellowship program, whereby a college graduate could spend a year at Andover practice teaching, to be followed by a year of graduate school paid for by the School. Time was also impressed with the foreign language programs: "Foreign languages begin without books, and English is banned from the classrooms. For nine hours a week, 14-year-olds answer one question after another in high-speed French and Spanish." Yet not everything was rosy. Some teachers were disturbed at the emphasis placed on grades, looking toward entry into prestige colleges. " 'The spirit of man is neglected in this school' fumes Emory Basford, veteran chairman of the English department . . . . 'This has become a strange, bewildering, killing place.' "

John Mason Kemper with his second wife, the former Abby Castle.
Mrs. Kemper graduated from Abbot Academy in the Class of 1931
and in 1964 was elected a Trustee of the Academy.

John Kemper agreed that the School might be trying to get the wrong kind of best out of its students, but suggested that parents should bear some of the blame for not placing enough emphasis on the old dream of being a good father and a good man. Despite these criticisms, however, it was the boys who made the School. As one teacher said, "And those great kids---where can a man find students who are so electrifying? There lies the dream of the good teacher. There is the significance and challenge here." As in all articles of this kind, the praise of Andover was qualified; without qualification the account would have been fatuous. Yet taken as a whole, the Time piece was a powerful endorsement of both the School and its Headmaster, John M. Kemper.(51)


Chapter Eighteen, Mid-Century Developments

Table of Contents