From the Editor

Some prefer their birthdays go unrecognized—not so the Bulletin. This issue celebrates a century since the publication’s first edition was distributed to alumni. To mark the occasion, our staff has prepared a varied fare of anniversary coverage: excerpts from throughout the Bulletin’s storied run, speeches from those who have served as head of school during those 100 years, photos contrasting the Andover of the early 1900s with that of today, and much more.

To select a good deal of this content, the Bulletin staff invaded the Andover archive—both to review antique photographs and to pore over old issues. In the course of the latter, we found much material worthy of a reprint. One passage struck a particular chord with me—for three reasons:

• it pays homage to Class Notes, for years now an extremely popular section of the Bulletin (and now larger than ever);
• it illustrates the spirit of camaraderie so prevalent among Andover alumni; and
• it addresses a concern expressed recently by some of our class secretaries.

In the spring 1986 Bulletin, Old Guard class secretary Keith Warren transported readers back to the year of his graduation, when Haley’s Comet had last graced the night sky: “In 1910 there were parts of the world that had no radio (and television was unheard of) and it was rumored the world over that the comet was certain death and destruction. It was a fact, though, that we students watched the comet while sitting on the roof tops, and consequently we were unprepared to recite the next day what we were supposed to have learned in our homework the night before whereupon the Professor reminded us that ‘comets may come and comets may go, but our work goes on forever!’” That passage was followed by a somber admission by Warren: he questioned why he continued to write his column—all but a few of his classmates were deceased.

He got his answer soon enough.

As the following issue of the Bulletin reported, Warren was inundated with fan mail from those whose Andover years came well after 1910. For example, Robert Feldman ’54 compared Warren’s 1910 notes to a vintage wine: “I for one will savor the incomparable taste of a freshly shared memory, and the fact that I was not there for the bottling in no way impedes my enthusiasm for the year.”

Let this serve as a word of encouragement to our more senior class secretaries, some of whom translate a lack of correspondence from classmates as a lack of readership. Your words, especially those regarding your time at Phillips or Abbot academies, are welcome and cherished. Although we on the Bulletin staff take pride in the news articles and features we prepare for our readers each issue, we are humbly aware that often our efforts are trumped by tales spun in our Class Notes section.

—Scott Aubrey

Letter to the Editor

The winter 2007 issue of the Andover Bulletin featured great coverage of the memorable career of Fred Stott ’36 and his years of devotion to Phillips Academy’s growth and reputation. A Navy Cross, tremendous in itself, decorated the former Marine officer’s brave military duty. On a lighter note, Fred’s baseball reputation was reported, but not his wonderful nickname, remembered by many of us: “Fireball.” He had the slowest pitch anywhere. Opponents on Brothers Field would dig in expecting to smash his delivery into Buzzards Bay. While the ball slowly arced toward the plate, Fred would patiently wait for it to cross a corner while the batter would flail hopelessly at the air. Fred was fun to watch.

Fred’s father was mentioned as a member of the English Department. He was best remembered for his leadership of Williams Hall, where first-year Andover students found the ways and rules of this school. Importantly, he was the teacher of Public Speaking, a course neglected today in education and obviously missed if we judge by what we see and hear on TV and at public appearances. The Stott speaking style was demonstrated September 17, 2002, by President George H.W. Bush ’42 at a Reading, Pa., gathering supporting a Republican congressman’s reelection. Speaking without notes, “Poppy” held 300 or so in the room spellbound with the Stott conversational quality: appropriate body and head gestures; sly humor; voice projection; strong, clear, simple, well-expressed theme; recognition of those about him; and brevity. The crowd loved him. I heard what I learned from Mr. Stott. I’d be surprised if “Poppy” Bush was not one of the hundreds who took that Andover course.

We owe so much to the leaders who went along with us in our Andover lives. The Stotts occupy important places.

—Charles M. Donovan ’39, Pottstown, Pa.

Corrections

In the fall 2006 Bulletin, our special report of giving edition, Mr. & Mrs. E. William Aylward were erroneously omitted from the list of generous donors in the Scholar section ($10,000–$24,999) under Parent Giving.

A photo caption in the winter 2007 Bulletin transposed the names of dedicated PA volunteers Douglas Pirnie Jr. ’65 and William Morris ’45.

The Bulletin regrets the errors.

R.S.V.P.

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