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Richard
J. Harrington Monson Academy Remembered The first time I ever heard the word "Monson" was when my Dad told our baby sitter they would be spending the evening at LaFond Brothers Steak House in Monson. Ever since, I have wondered how, out of the infinity of molecular chains and criss-cross of valences, was the exact stoichiometry of kind and quantity extracted, so that I would meet with Dr. George Rogers, Mr. George Morrow, and Dr. Samuel J. Hughes, at an intersection of time and space identified as Monson Academy? These three men are but a few of the staff who, thankfully, confronted us in the classroom and on the playing fields when we did not try as hard as we should or could have. I graduated from Monson Academy in 1960, yes, with Richard LaFond of the aforementioned steak house family. The ancient Greek dramatist, Sophocles, stated that one must wait until the evening to see how splendid the day has been. It is through the haze of memory that I realize the impact my attendance at the Academy has had upon me and my family. My matriculation at the Academy left a poignant, yet powerful memory of men who believed, "Building boys was better than mending men". Accordingly, I sent my sons, Michael,'89 and Richard Jr.,'90, to Wilbraham & Monson Academy. Dr. George E. Rogers: When in 1957, my parents were shopping around for a school for my brother and me, we visited many preparatory schools in New England. They all received us politely, gave us tours, etc. But there was no connection with my parents. The impression we got was one of "institution". At Monson Academy, however, I sat at the side of Dr. Rogers's desk, my parents sat in front of the desk. Dr. Rogers spoke to me directly as well as to my parents. Upon exiting the interview, Dr. Rogers placed his hand on my shoulder as we walked to the front door. He shook my hand and spoke to me as an uncle might. I knew this was where I belonged, and my parents agreed. It was the force of Dr. Rogers' personality that gave him such presence. Another example of his charm, in the late 1930's, Dr. Rogers was driving from Palmer to Monson on Palmer Road, Route 32. There was a young man hitching a ride. Dr. Rogers stopped to pick up the young man and in the amount of time it took to drive from Palmer to Monson, Dr. Rogers elicited the fact that this boy was enroute to get a job at A. D. Ellis Woolen Mills in Monson. Times were tough and the young man was going to work in the mills. Dr. Rogers convinced him instead to enroll at the Academy! The young man was A. Dwight Bramble, more popularly known as "Bucky". Bucky graduated in the class of 1941 and became a highly respected medical doctor with a local practice. Warren Cresswell, my classmate, told me that one evening in 1953 just after the disastrous fire that destroyed Academy Hall, his family was eating supper and there was a knock at the door. It was Dr. Rogers soliciting funds to help rebuild the Academy. The impact of Dr. Rogers upon Mr. Cresswell was such that both Warren and his younger brother, Travis, were enrolled at the Academy. The stories go on and on. We never heard a profanity or foul word from Dr. Rogers. Strange, because Lord knows we sometimes pushed him! Lest you think Dr. Rogers was all work and no play, I must tell you that at basketball games he could be persuaded to go half-court and shoot consecutive baskets. Music and song were important to Dr. Rogers, especially playing the piano! Where people were gathered and a piano was present, music was soon to follow....whether at the Monson Congregational Church, Monson Rotary Club or at benefits for the local Wing Memorial Hospital. After dinner at Holmbrook Hall, he would sit at the piano and we would gather around to sing, and the songs always included the fight songs of various colleges. Sometimes he would play the same songs with his hands behind his back, thus playing the piano backwards. Dr. Rogers implored us not to take our education lightly, for many people, some whom we did not know, sacrificed so we could have an opportunity to succeed. I am reminded of the last line of Tennyson's poem, Ulysses -- "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield". This personified the energy and ideals of our school, of our Dr. Rogers. I now realize how grand and providential his stewardship truly was. Mr. George D. Morrow: I had Mr. George Morrow for Latin II. Mr. Morrow served the Academy from approximately 1929 through 1971, teaching Latin and mathematics. Because the Academy was small, we were with our masters not only in classes but on the athletic fields, dorms, as well as at meals. There quite literally was no place to hide if you slacked off in your efforts. As students we knew exactly what was expected from us in terms of papers and homework. We were encouraged, sometimes quite frankly, to put forth a stronger, more respectable effort. In this regard, I very clearly recall sitting next to; we'll call him Billy Stone, in Latin II. We sat in a semi-circle around Mr. Morrow's desk. There were ten of us and we took turns reciting our translations of Caesar's Commentaries on the Gallic Wars. You may remember, "Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres" -- all Gaul is divided into three parts. One day, when the turn to translate came to Billy sitting next to me, he slowly struggled and it became apparent to all, he was not prepared. This alone was bad enough. When Mr. Morrow asked him if he prepared his lessons, Billy answered in the negative, and then taking leave of his senses, Billy slouched in his seat, folded his arms and smiled at Mr. Morrow. In 1959 Mr. Morrow was not a young man, not old but not young either. Yet what happened next I will carry with me to the end of my days. Mr. Morrow, from a sitting position, hurdled across his desk and clamped his right hand around Billy's collar. With a firm grip on Billy, Mr. Morrow leaned forward and shouted at Billy, "Mr. Stone, why don't you stop wasting your father's money!" Billy never had the time to uncross his feet. Billy was lifted out of his chair and rushed to the classroom door. Mr. Morrow opened the door with his left hand and unceremoniously ejected Billy from the classroom. Mr. Morrow walked back to his desk, looked at me as if nothing had happened, and quietly asked me to continue the translation. I do not remember any of the rest of that class. Suffice it to say, Billy had his translations prepared for every class there after. So did we! We were taught that you must always try, and also learned that to fail was not the end of the world. This pertained not only on the playing fields but to all our endeavors. The point was to persist and only through persistence could achievement be realized. We were taught that work was honorable, and whether it was raking leaves for some infraction or giving chapel talks, one's best effort was expected. Very often, at the close of chapel talks on Saturday, Dr. Rogers would finish his comments, turn to the faculty seated behind him, and ask if they had any remarks to make. As the faculty usually nodded no, we students would sit anxiously anticipating dismissal for the weekend. Suddenly, Mr. Morrow would slowly rise and approach the lectern. Squinting, as was often his habit, he would almost whisper, "I would like to see Gerry Edwards after chapel". We would erupt with laughter for we knew this meant that after lunch, because of some infraction or lack of attention to his studies, Gerry, Mrs. Morrow and Mr. Morrow would drive to Stafford Springs, where Mrs. Morrow would drop them off and Mr. Morrow and Gerry would walk the many miles back to school. When we laughed, Mr. Morrow would abruptly stop and, doing an about-face, would return to the lectern to stare at our corner of the audience. We froze as Mr. Morrow asked if he had said something funny. No comment was forthcoming from the entire student body. Yet still, he stood at the podium, sweeping the sea of faces before him, standing his ground. Mr. Morrow did not suffer fools gladly, and he loved to walk. Mr. Morrow, I remember, always in a suit with his wingtip shoes highly polished, ever the role model of a master. Dr. S. J. Hughes: Samuel John Hughes, also known as S.J. Hughes and to his peers as "Jack", was born on September 15, 1927, in Belfast, Northern Ireland. He resided in Toledo, Ohio, and received his Master of Arts degree from Columbia University and Ph.D. from the University of London in 1966. Dr. Hughes was an extraordinary teacher. He taught in private schools such as Monson Academy and private schools in Portsmouth, England. He was also a gifted pianist and usually directed a drama/theater club. Dr. Hughes opened vistas to countless young charges, introducing them to King Lear, Hamlet and the poetry of John Keats. His impeccable attire, professionalism and carriage will not be forgotten. Dr. Hughes died on April 15, 1991, in Queen Alexandra Hospital, Portsmouth, England. Although Dr. Hughes had an extended family remaining in Toledo, he chose to be interred in England. Perhaps the following, the dying declaration of the Duke of Gaunt (Shakespeare's The tragedy of King Richard II ) explains it all:
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