Class of 1957
50th Class Reunion August 24, 2007
In the fall of 1944, when each of us began first grade, the Class of 1957 really didn’t exist in our thoughts or minds. Small numbers of us began our stint in education in Lafayette, others in Davisville, Allenton, or towns elsewhere in the USA or its bases, and the largest group of us began at Wickford Grammar School in what was then the old academy building. Times were different then. Can you imagine a boys’ porch and a separate girls’ porch with marble floors ever being a part of a grammar school today? Do you remember playing Red Rover, Red Rover on the playground, batting a baseball almost over to the haunted Hainsworth house, or playing hopscotch with a smooth piece of shell that the gulls had left when smashing quahogs on the stones on the playground?
At Wickford Grammar, we knew that the school was the realm of Mrs. Hope Arnold, the principal whom we viewed with awe and trepidation, and I’m sure at all other grammar schools the feeling was similar. For some of us, Gabriella Adams, a tiny lady who wasn’t much taller than her students, led us through first grade and got us ready for second grade. Some of us walked to school, and the more fortunate rode in big yellow busses and never had to stay after for unbecoming acts – no matter what, the busses rolled and everyone who belonged on had to be on. With the walkers, it was a different story. Chester Ball, the janitor, cleaned the real slate blackboards every night and had a special nickname for every single little girl in the school. His domain was known as the boiler room, a very dark closed off area deep down in the basement. One teacher I remember was Marcia Hand, who pregnant as could be in December of our fourth grade year, used to sit Blair McDonough on her lap when he misbehaved. Her replacement when we returned in January was Elvira Ramacortti, with her leg makeup and black eyebrow pencil drawn seam up the back of her leg, These two and many others in a variety of schools helped guide us through the first six years of our education. Those years included hearing General MacArthur’s “old soldiers never die speech in the auditorium of the new wing addition, first dancing school classes where we learned the correct etiquette for asking for and accepting a dance with the member of the opposite sex, first hot lunches, spring concerts, and plays. All these very guided and programmed experiences took place in all the schools and got us ready for the big leap to NKJR/SRHS. In Lafayette, Mrs. Caswell and Avis Phillips; in Allenton the second Hope Arnold and others throughout the North Kingstown area began their magic on what would become the Class of 1957.
In the words of Bucky Covington,
We were born to mothers who smoked and drank
Our cribs were covered with lead based paint
No child proof lids, not seat belts in cars
We rode bikes with no helmets and still, here we are….
We got Daddy’s belt when we misbehaved
Had two TV channels we got up to change
No video games and no satellite
All we had were friends and they were outside, playin’ outside….
School always started the same every day
The Pledge of Allegiance, then someone would pray
Not every kid made the team when each tried
We got disappointed and that was all right, we turned out all right….
No bottled water, we drank from a garden hose
And every Sunday, all the stores were closed
It was a different life
When we were boys and girls
Not just a different time
It was a different world.
And when we assembled in Grade 7 in Rooms 200 and 201, the very beginnings of the Class of ’57 took place. Because we had members of five other classes ahead of us who proudly boasted of their intended years of graduation on jackets, pins and rings, we soon figured out that in June of ’57 we’d march across the stage in the auditorium and the Class of ’57 would be on its way. Helen Darby reigned in Room 200 during seventh grade, and we met as a group for the first time, Sleepy Al Hayes, Charlie Hill, Miriam Bogman, Coach Frank Murgo, Grace Eastwood, and the classy dresser Evelyn Moffitt. How we loved the football rallies and games, even though we almost never won. Sodas always tasted sweeter with the jukebox playing at Jenkins stand after 7 P.M. ballroom dancing classes with Mr. Riccio. Our parents faithfully came by to pick us up, for licenses were only dreams at such an early age. When Grade 8 rolled around, even more new faces were added to our class as ships at the Naval Base came in and went out. Helen Ross, Phil Haggerty, whose frustrations with us caused chalk throwing episodes in math class, and Mr. Friend were added to our teaching staff. It was in music class with Mrs. Westlake that several of the boys made the great decision that they had had it with singing and switched to band instruments – Dick Cox, Ken Gardiner, Don Whaley and several others left the girls behind and trotted off to the band room. Activities like Future Homemakers of America, Fire Department, FFA supplemented band and chorus. We were busy looking up to the juniors and seniors, especially the upper classmen boys that were hall monitors. Girls, do you remember Martin Hellowell’s pink shirts and charcoal slacks??
It was when we became freshmen that we elected class officers, began to work towards graduation events as a unit, and met our class advisor, Henry Quinn, the new teacher of English. Most of us nearly fell out of our seats as he addressed us as Miss Bordo or Miss Aldrich and the boys as Benson, Davis, or Gardiner. We were awed by this tall, loud voiced, spiffy dresser who read the latest best sellers while on hall duty and made very clear to us that his word was law both in and out of the classroom. Class plays, games, dances- all were completed with the thoughts in mind that we, the Class of ’57, were very special people. Our unity developed from the football, basketball and baseball games, the first Junior Prom ever to be held away from the school, class rings that were round and very distinctive when compared to those of other classes, a yearbook that had colored pages – another first for the school. The disappointment when our class trip was cancelled was bitter, and because of it, another first took place, when we graduated, each one of us received $20 dollars from the class treasury and still we had enough left over to grant a scholarship to a deserving sophomore. Our last act as a class was another first – a Senior Ball off campus and after we had graduated. We took all these experiences and many others unstated and created the moments to remember about which we sang in our class song on Graduation Night. We didn’t think too much about copyrights when we took the popular song by the Four Lads and converted the lyrics to fit our situation. We knew then that the memories that we had created in our years together would remain with us “when other nights and other days had found us gone our separate ways, we would have those moments to remember. And though summer’s now turned to winter and the present disappears, the laughter we were glad to share still echoes through the years. Other nights and other days have found us gone our separate ways, we still have these moments to remember.
It is in the spirit of remembrance, that tonight we are lighting five candles symbolic of our four classmates and our advisor who have left us in body but not in spirit.
The first to leave was Andrew Shephard born on July 1, 1938 and died on November 19, 1989, at age 51. Robert Frost reminds us in one of his familiar poems…”Two roads diverged in a wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that made all the difference.” For me, Andrew was a dear friend with whom I danced regularly for close to eight years and a dear friend. After college, his chosen work was with people who needed guidance and assistance as he worked for the State of RI. He co-edited our yearbook and took roles in each of our plays. His smile, sense of humor and friendship add to our memories of him.
Next to leave us was Alfred Blease. Unlike Andrew who was with many of us from grade one through graduation, Al didn’t arrived until we were in high school, but he made an immediate impression, for his was sooooo smart. He loved physics, math and anything mechanical. Born on October 28, 1939, he passed away very suddenly of a heart attack on April 15, 1990/ After completing Bates College, he married and had two children, was a National Science Foundation Grant Recipient and taught both at the secondary and college level. Al, too, was quiet but he had a keen sense of humor and despite a battle with epilepsy, gave back much to the world in his 51 years. Frost tells us in “Birches” “I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white truck
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than to be a swinger of birches.”
Mary S.Whitford, better known to all of us as Pudge was born on May 14, 1939 and died on October 5, 1998 at age 59. A lover of horses and all other animals, Pudge too attended Wickford Grammar with many of us and is remembered for her quick smile and small frame. She was the first of us to be at ease in jeans, though we called them dungarees and she took no guff from anyone. Years after high school my sister sent me a lovely handmade Christmas pillow as a gift. The tag on it read, handmade by Mary S. Whitford. Her handwork was exquisite and gift among many that few of us knew anything about. The poetess Madeline S. Bridges reminds us in the work “Life’s Mirror”…
“For life is the mirror of king and slave,
‘Tis just what we are and do;
Then give to the world the best you have
And the best will come back to you.”
John O’Mara transferred to the Class of ’57 late in our time together. He was born on August 7, 1939 and died on June 15, 2004. Specific moments of being with him in classes and sharing homeroom jokes and pranks are few but he was one of us and marched across the graduation stage and shared in our final activities. We celebrate his life in the lines of “Happiness” by Dryden.
“Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own;
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow, do thy worst, for I have lived today.”
Our last candle is for Mr. Quinn….
Hear these lines by Kevin Huff
“When God created teachers,
He gave us special friends
To help us understand His world
And truly comprehend
The beauty and the wonder
Of everything we see
And become a better person
With each discovery.
When God created teachers,
He gave us special guides
To show us ways in which to grow
So we can all decide
How to live and how to do
What’s right instead of wrong:
To lead us so that we can lead
And learn how to be strong”
When I retired in June, those lines were written in my memory book by one of the teachers that I had mentored over the past years. As I read them, I immediately thought of Henry Quinn, our guide, teacher, and special friend, who in reality was only ten years older than we during our years of learning under his watchful eyes, but who was wise and so far ahead of his time as far as his teaching talents and methods were concerned. Born on February 20, 1029, Henry was our most recent loss when he passed away on April 4, 2006. He was the recipient of many positive accolades and remembrances during his life, a man whose family was important to him and who loved being on the golf course probably more than teaching. I truly believe some of his proudest moments took place during the Class of ’57 reunions every five years. I think he probably sat back after each one and went down the list of all of us and smiled and thought over our disappointments and our many accomplishments and joys. Speaking as a teacher, I can tell you that the students that you shepherd along over a period of years never leave your mind; they remain with you forever, and you see them replicated in every class you teach. I think this was the case with Henry.
I had the fortune of returning to NK to teach English under his supervision. I am still in awe of his ability to personalize education within one classroom of almost 30 students. One example of how he did this could be seen in his selection of each and every book that he assigned for outside reading over the course of the four years that he taught some of us English. He just seemed to know what each boy and girl needed to read to stretch their minds, and his method of having us orally share our learning with the class are well founded and still practiced today. He was a model teacher, boss, and administrator. He stretched his teachers just as he challenged and stretched us. Our personal memories of interactions with him may be described as funny, combative, sad, joyful and in some cases tearful. He had the ability to make us mad as hatters, proud as punch, and satisfied with occasionally surprising him. We loved him, we respected him, and he imparted to us a superior knowledge of reading, writing, speaking, and living. We lived through some very special years and experiences with him. He will remain with us in spirit for as long as we can celebrate and remember.
Why God created teachers
In His wisdom and His grace,
Was to help us learn and to make our world
A better, wiser place.
Now if all you fellas had been born rich instead of handsome, maybe we could have hired the Statler Brothers to bring this final message tonight…
Tommy’s selling used cars, Nancy’s fixing hair,
Harvey runs a grocery store and Margaret doesn’t care.
Jerry drives a truck for Sears and Charlotte’s on the make,
And Paul sells life insurance and part time real estate….
And the Class of ’57 had its dreams,
Oh, we all thought we’d change the world with our great works and deeds.
Or maybe we just thought the world would change to fit our needs,
The Class of ’57 had its dreams.
Yes, the Class of ’57 had its dreams.
But livinglife day to day is never like it seems.
Things get complicated when you get past eighteen,
Oh, the Class of ’57 had its dreams.
Thank you for dreaming and remembering with me tonight.
-Jean Bordo Lawrence
Posted on Web: 8/27/2009