John O. Greeve
19 October
Mr. William G. Truax
President, Fiduciary Trust Company
New Haven, Connecticut
Dear Bill,
I have this morning received a letter from a mother who says she might be interested in suing us in order to restore the dignity of her sixth-form son who was recently dismissed for purchasing LSD from another boy in Hallowell. My experience of such mothers and such letters is that the ominous hints rarely come to writs. Nevertheless, you might want to bounce her letter off Seymour to see what, as counsel, he makes of it. Just in case it comes to something, I am preparing a file of disciplinary memos, housemaster’s notes, my address to the school, and all correspondence on the matter. I will make myself available to Seymour at his convenience, should he want more information.
Best,
John
21 October
REMARKS TO THE SCHOOL
Since you are subjected, from time to time, to warnings, reprisals, and corporate criticism from this stage, I thought it would be nice—and also appropriate—this morning to praise you. What in particular I would like to praise is your exceptionally courteous reception of Mr. Ambioto yesterday in long assembly.
I will concede that his observations were a little specialized. Perhaps some general points might have been made before he plunged into the intricacies of East African partisan politics. His accent, too, made stretches of the talk hard to follow. The length of the talk was not, however, Mr. Ambioto’s fault. He asked me how long he should speak, and I told him until he heard the carillon. Mrs. Pearse, however, was called away from her desk late yesterday morning, and the awaited signal never sounded. Thus Mr. Ambioto unwittingly gave us the longest continuous address ever delivered in Perry Chapel—perhaps the longest in the history of Wells. Entirely my fault, of course.
Anyway, from my perspective gazing out into all your faces, you looked a perfect sea of attentiveness and restraint. There was talk afterwards of growling stomachs, but none of this reached the pulpit.
So, three cheers for you, perhaps one or two for Mr. Ambioto, and none for Greeve. I suppose one should simply expect exquisite manners from Wells boys and say nothing about it, but I can’t help it. You were easy to be proud of yesterday. My compliments and my apologies for the discomfort.
22 October
Mrs. Benjamin Rogen
46 Clubside Road
Newton, Massachusetts
Dear Mrs. Rogen,
Thank you for your letter expressing concern about Dan’s situation in geometry.
I am glad you did not hesitate to write; dispel any notion about being considered a “Jewish mother”; I wish I knew how to create a Jewish-mother syndrome among our parent body.
With respect to geometry, I can only assure you that I am paying close attention, and will continue to pay close attention, to Mrs. Armbruster’s mathematics sections. As it happens, she is not a “new teacher,” but she is new to a boy’s-school setting, and there has been a hiatus of several years since she last taught. I can assure you, on the basis of having seen her at work, that she is a well-prepared and competent geometry teacher. Geometry, however, involves a different mode of thought from algebra; it is not really an extension of algebraic thinking. It is not at all uncommon for a boy who, like Dan, has done well in algebra, to meet his match in geometry. It will come, I think, when Dan gets used to the structure of proofs. Battling Mrs. Armbruster, however diverting, is not going to help much.
About her alleged handling of discipline, I have only two things to say. One is that I have never heard (or, when I was in school, given) an uncolored account of an adversely experienced disciplinary decision. I do not doubt that Dan felt the tide of wrath and prejudice that he reported, but I am not sure that such things as he reported to you were actually uttered. Secondly, school’s greatest contribution to an adolescent’s personal development is certainly the variety of approaches to pedagogy and discipline that it offers. In the final analysis, Mrs. A. may not be for Dan, but I don’t think I would want to save him from the battle. Our best experiences at school are not always our most pleasant ones. One more thing: the reported “chaos” of the geometry classroom cannot possibly be as reported. Phelps building is acoustically awful, and all of us would hear it!
I’m glad you got in touch. I will continue to monitor both Mrs. Armbruster’s and Dan’s progress in geometry with interest.
My good wishes,
John O. Greeve
23 October
MEMO to Florence Armbruster
Mathematics
Florence,
Let’s confer.
J.O.G.
23 October
Mr. and Mrs. Frank Greeve
14 Bingham Drive
Tarrytown, New York
Dear Val and Frank,
Scheduling arrangements for the nurses (five of them) are now complete—a process much more demanding than hiring a faculty for the entire school—and Meg is home, relatively comfortable and relaxed in her own room. The maples are now practically bare, and the morning light from the big window in the bay nearly whitens the room. This is so obviously right I kick myself that we had it any other way. Dietrich and the clinic people, for their part, could not have been kinder or more obliging.
I honestly think this will give Meg more time—and better time. I was certain she had improved when, as I padded in quietly yesterday morning with coffee to join her for a chat, she perused me at some length in silence, then said, “You know, John, you look really awful. Are you well?”
Actually, I am quite well, although surprisingly trim. I am now belt hitches to the good of where I was on Labor Day. Do you think I should write this up and market it: How to Lose Fifteen Pounds without Dieting, through Stress, Overwork, and Dejection? A jog or two around the track to raise some color in my greenish, pallid cheeks, and I could get almost vain.
I am glad Hugh is heading down to Tarrytown for Thanksgiving. Don’t expect any company from him, however. If the standard pattern holds, he should come to you with a suitcase full of term exams to grade, grade reports to write, and advisor letters to compose. Give him my best, will you? I saw Ted Phillips at a Headmasters’ Conference in Boston last week, and he confirms that Hugh is off to a marvelous start: careful, yet enthusiastic; high spirited with kids, yet very “adult.” Have no doubt that as long as Hugh stays in schools, he will travel on the fast track.
Meg joins me in sending love.
John
25 October
REMARKS TO THE SCHOOL
First, let me thank you for saving me this important spot in your rally. I’m not sure I can rival captains Ted Frank and Carl Maslow for passion nor Coaches Shire and Kreble for determination, but I can serve you in two capacities: as an historian and as a prophet.
The historian in me insists that in order to make sense of these final contests with Haverhill, we must take a longer view than of just this season. For this season has revealed a very plucky, very young, rather unlucky Wells football team which has won only two games, while suffering six defeats. Two of those defeats were by less than a touchdown, and four games in all were lost during the last quarter of play. In contrast, Haverhill, my sources tell me, is riding the crest of the Seven Schools wave. They are undefeated. They have played only one close game this season, and they are, according to an inside source who cannot be named for reasons of his personal safety, complacent in the extreme about Saturday afternoon. In other words, we have got them where we want them. History would bear this out. In the forty-six years we have met Haverhill School in football, we have beaten them thirty-one times. They have returned the favor thirteen times, and there have been two ties. Of those forty-six contests, only twenty were played when Wells had a losing school record. Of those twenty games, Wells won thirteen, lost five, and tied two. This bears out an old and almost forgotten Wells School proverb which goes something like, “A strong Haverhill squad does not a Wells d
efeat insure.” Words to that effect.
But as all you Western Studies scholars know, history is not the only source of knowledge. There is also direct revelation. Here too I have had access to well-placed sources. Last night I was unable to sleep and was nodding off fitfully at dawn when I detected a lightening on the horizon. Too early for the sun, I told myself, and sat bolt upright. Suddenly the room was aglow with light, and everywhere about me I heard the whooshing and flapping of invisible wings. Then lo, dark and quiet were restored, and all was as it had been, with the exception of a rectilineal luminescence glowing faintly on my pillowcase. This was a sealed envelope which I picked up gingerly and which I will share with you this afternoon.
Please bear with me . . .
It seems to be a card, a blank card . . . no, there are some figures here . . . it says . . . it says . . . Haverhill 20, Wells 26. Extraordinary.
One more thing, boys, before we head out to fulfill this prophecy. It’s trite—but still important—to remind you that how we do it is what matters, not what the scoreboard says. Many of you recall that this year’s football season got off to a sour start at St. I.’s. That was a game I would like to forget, and my regret has nothing to do with the football. What I wish for all of us Saturday, players especially, is the indescribable elation that comes from pouring out best effort and energy. Anger, verbal abuse, and cheap shots have no part in this.
Finally, to our soccer and cross-country teams, already heard from, you need no prophecy from me to see your way to victory. What marvelous seasons you have both put behind you already.
The prospect of three fine wins on Saturday quite overwhelms me. I do believe I might be so undone by it that a full free day might be required for me to recover. The faculty and I hate to waste that good instructional time, but we shall just have to see what transpires.
Let’s all of us, players and spectators alike, have a glorious weekend at Haverhill.
26 October
MEMO to Coaches
Kreble, Shire, Tomasek
Athletic Department
Just a note to wish you well at Haverhill and to thank you for your good, long efforts in conducting your teams through exceptionally classy seasons. It is easy to be proud of athletics at Wells this year.
One caution: not-so-veiled rumors are already rife among the players about the “traditional” post-season “bash.” We have got to squash this. Let’s find a minute to talk to the teams, preferably before the games, and drive home the point that we don’t want to lose anybody at this point in the year to discipline or injury or something worse. I’ll have a word with dormitory faculty on the subject, too.
Onward!
J.O.G.
26 October
Mr. Jake Levin
R.D. 3
Petersfield, New Hampshire
Dear Jake,
I am undone, feather-headed, and flattered. Unless you are a consummate con, you seem to be positively genuine in liking my “cancer” lines. I do not believe there is a precedent for this in our literary correspondence. Now that I think about it, the cancer piece is probably the only poetry I have ever shown you which is not in appreciation of something. What is it in me, do you suppose, that is unable to bring “energy and power” (your words) to appreciation, but able to find it for fatigue and fear? If you know, don’t tell me. It must be horrible.
I am at home now in my study. Night is, I’d say, about five minutes away. A leaden blue-grey sky is softening even the leafless prickly treeline. Meg is asleep. Nurse McCarty (night shift Tues., Thurs., Fri.) is reading, or possibly drinking. All is quiet. And as the headmaster ponders the way of things in solitude, what does he ponder?
He ponders drinking and the problem of adolescent celebration in general. How did our social fabric ever get woven with such an annoying hole? Lest I sound obscure, the situation is this: our final games of the fall term are Saturday. Three teams have practiced and played hard, and some honest effort has been put forth, physical sacrifices made. Given the nature of the animals involved, the players have made an effort to keep the spirit of training regulations. Saturday night the boys would like, if they could arrange it without detection, to drink a lot of beer, to get loud and raucous and silly and, under that cover, be affectionate, sentimental, even ecstatic. For a few of the boys involved, the goal would be drunkenness and iconoclasm; for most of them it would be—though they’d die before admitting it—fellowship. But of course we can’t have that, given school rules, state laws, in loco parentis, etc. And what a shame! What a sad restraint, a dreary response to some no doubt ancient, if not original, sin to do with drinking. I wish I could have the lot of them here in my parlor and not quite enough beer on tap to drown them. Did you know that used to be done? Remember that scene in Tom Brown’s School Days when Tom first gets to Rugby? There is a huge anarchic football game, involving the whole school—a kind of free-form war organized around the movement of a ball. Tom does something minor but painful to advance his team’s position. That night the school serves beer, and there is singing and speeches and (unmistakably tipsy) good fellowship before the porters turn off the taps. What has happened? What social progress has made this impossible?
You, on the other hand, are probably pondering the dual nature of the romantic ideal or the non-poetic poetics of concrete imagists, or, more likely, a drink and some stew. Ah, the road not taken.
Thanks again for your warm and, as always, bang-on critical observations about the cancer thing. Finish it, yes. But have you thought about that? I can do cancer/despair by feeling it, by identification. But finishing it requires—well, being finished. Doesn’t it? That I can’t do vicariously. But I’ll work on it; maybe I’ll rely on Art.
We’re managing here. The center is holding. Meg sends love. When next we meet, you will see a thinner, shored-up Greeve, a Greeve measuring 33” around the waist, a diameter last recorded in his college days. Meg and my colleagues insist that I look godawful for the improvement, but I feel this is due to the way my old clothes hang about my no longer portly frame. Another theory, perhaps the valid one, is that I looked awful before and the recent difference merely points out a fact to which the dull-eyed faculty had become inured. It certainly is an interesting question, isn’t it?
Don’t forget about February. What are you reading? Writing?
Love,
John
30 October
REMARKS TO THE SCHOOL
I would like to conclude this morning’s assembly by saying I am glad we won our contests with Haverhill. I cannot of course be as ecstatic as you are because, if you will recall, I knew we were going to win. Do not misunderstand me. I am not gloating. I take no personal pride in being prophetic. For prophecy, you know, is a gift. I am merely its location, its mouthpiece.
So in closing, let me repeat that I am very pleased with the fall teams, the way one is pleased that water falls or that a sail fills with wind. I would normally dismiss you for First Class, but I seem to recall a promise . . .
Now, you may either remain here in the assembly hall where some of the faculty and I have prepared a very informative program on seventeenth-century breakthroughs in natural science, or you may go off and do whatever you please. I believe cocoa and donuts are available in the Hall for anyone interested.
Good morning.
3 November
Mr. Dewey Porter
Chairman, Seven Schools Conference
Adelbert School
Eavesham, Connecticut
Dear Dewey,
Thanks for your letter. I agree—I think—that our session last week was productive, although the unstated “vibes” from Fred and the St. I.’s crew were a little chilling.
I like the proposed mechanism for settling sportsmanship disputes. The ad hoc ombudsmen should serve well, although if many protests are filed, their time may be heavily taxed. At any rate, I like it, I vote for it. I would have been glad to refer my St. I.’s tiff to such a board.
You ask m
e if I wouldn’t consider, in the spirit of the new policy, reinstating St. I.’s on next year’s schedule. Practically, I can’t. We’ve already filled in most of the holes. Ethically, I don’t think I would if I could. To relent at this point—still without an acknowledgement of foul play from Fred, I remind you—would hardly be in the spirit of the new resolves. I think we’ve got plenty of soft-headed accommodation these days, whether in national politics or in the schools. Why does a principle—even a well-established one—make everybody so uncomfortable? St. I.’s can just reschedule. Here I stand. (Did you know that Luther never said that?) I told Fred to get on that in early October. Now it’s going to be tricky, especially in the fall.
Thanks for your kind words about our Haverhill triumph. I have nothing modest to say. I loved it.
Best,
John
5 November
Mr. Robert Lavell
CBS Television Network
51 West 52nd Street
New York, New York
Dear Mr. Lavell,
Thank you for your inquiry about Wells as a potential site for your Here and Now special, “The Last Boy’s School.”
I am afraid I must decline on the school’s behalf. A school year, once in motion, establishes its own rhythm and momentum, and the to-do involved in being filmed might just spoil ours. Also, for whatever it says about us, we are rather avowed foes of television viewing. We do not recommend it in general, nor do we allow it here, either as a diversion or as a rival source of information to books and talk. We have no TV sets in our dormitories or in the lounges. Of course our policy reflects only our view of the relationship between TV and school; the larger question of TV’s place in society is rather beyond us. In light of this, I don’t think we would be very consistent in allowing ourselves to become an enthusiastic subject for television.
For what a personal observation is worth, my impressions, spotty as they are, of the Here and Now approach is that the object is to “see through,” debunk, or, at most, to reveal whatever is under scrutiny with such apparent detachment that the result is heavy irony. I may be mistaken in this, and, as I say, I seldom watch television. But has Here and Now ever celebrated its subject? If I were a skilled filmmaker and knew what I know about school life, I think I could make a documentary that would show anything. But what would be the point in that?
The Headmasters Papers Page 7