In Memoriam

Elizabeth (Betty) Webb Woodworth GP '86,'92,'94,'02, GGP '22,'24

AUGUST 17, 1921 - FEBRUARY 20, 2023

By Benjamin D. Williams IV

There is a lovely line in an essay by Christian philosopher Brian Doyle about students and schools. It reads, “We thrash after ways to say what we know to be true, that the breath and laughter and tears and furies and despairs and thrills and epiphanies of children on a campus season the very air, coat the walls, soak into the soil, in ways we can never quite measure or articulate; so that something of them, something of who they were and are, something of who they might become, swirls still in the rooms where they live when they are young.”

Betty Woodworth understood that, cherished the people – young and old – who give a place its soul, and became one of our constants. Over seven decades all of those young people who became themselves on this campus were reassured by the knowledge that Betty was here making Cate a proper home. It is why in moments like this past weekend at Camp Cate, the campus is filled with alumni returning to see Betty, to reminisce about days gone by, and to feel connected again to the journey that took them to Cate and through Cate.

As a young Head of School, I was privileged to learn from Betty, who was quick to offer encouragement or guidance or a well-timed bit of affirmation. Traditionalist in many ways that she was, Betty proved immensely open-minded even in the face of substantive change. But she was not always agreeable. I’ll never forget the day she threatened to chain herself to our historic barns to prevent us from moving them to another location on campus.

She was in league with fellow faculty member and stalwart opponent to the move, Marty Sykes. It was one of the more memorable moments of my Headship being threatened by those two formidable women. Not surprisingly, Betty ultimately became an admirer of the change as befits such a gentle caretaker of history.

Betty’s energy and vigor always attracted and captivated students, who would journey down to her house on many evenings to play scrabble or simply share stories. She hiked into the Kern River basin with our Junior class, a 40 mile round trip with lots of climbing, when she was in her seventies, and was a regular at every venue on campus long after she was officially retired. For 37 years she served as the School’s librarian and then a seemingly equally long tenure as the School’s archivist.

In that capacity she was fond of saying that the archives should be about “all those moments that are making the School what it is and will be.” I wonder if Betty understood how many of those formative moments – the ones that demonstrated unequivocally the character of this place – involved her. When Betty left campus in 2017, we gave her the Servons Award, the school’s highest honor, for remarkable, distinguished, and enduring service to Cate.

In the citation that accompanied that honor was Betty’s response to a question many years ago, “What does Cate stand for?” “Excellence and goodness,” Betty said, echoing words often used to describe her. That is no accident.

We bemoaned the simple truth in 2017 that succeeding classes at Cate would not know Betty. For communities like this one are distinguished not simply by the people who are a part of our lives here, but by the people we come back to. Betty has been one of those people for three quarters of a century. She remains one today, part forever not simply of the spirit of this place but its operation, the experience of its students and its faculty.

Funds in Betty’s name support our work in the libraries. The road upon which so many faculty homes have been constructed is named for Betty. We live for all intents and purposes in Betty’s neighborhood, a place where everyone loves words and language, where every conversation is invigorating and affirming, where friends, colleagues, and students gather to discover something valuable about the world and each other and where a welcoming smile greets every new visitor.

“Memory fades,” Tennyson says in verse that adorns this chapel, but impacts like Betty’s reverberate beyond lifetimes. How fortunate are we to live in a place that owes so much of its character to her.

David Crosby '60

AUGUST 14, 1941 - JANUARY 19, 2023

By Leslie Turnbull '85

Beloved, brilliant musician and freesailing spirit, David Crosby '60 passed away on January 18, 2023 at his Santa Ynez ranch. While David’s pursuit of his creative muse carried him away from the Mesa in the late 1950s, he retained a deep fondness for Cate, calling memories of his two years at the School “ … among the best and most memorable of my life.”

David Van Cortlandt Crosby was born in Los Angeles on August 14, 1941. His father, a cinematographer, and his socially active mother fostered a love for the arts in their home; both David and his older brother developed an early appreciation for music, especially jazz.

Following the family’s move to Montecito, David attended Crane School, Laguna Blanca, and, eventually, Cate. Gregarious and popular, David earned a reputation on the Mesa as “... the class’ leading playboy, but never … never … the class’ leading workboy.” He served on the social “Weekend” committee and, of course, excelled in music and musical theater.

David’s preference for art over academics was no secret at Cate; nor was the fact that he, among others, was once responsible for the midnight purloin of the infamous “Macbeth” school bell from the top of the old dining hall and subsequent disabling of the Mesa’s electronic bell system. Not long after, David moved on to pursue his artistic aspirations.

David Crosby’s subsequent musical career took off quickly. He was a founding member of iconic folk-rock band The Byrds, whose 1965 cover of Bob Dylan’s Tambourine Man rose to the top of the charts and catapulted young David to fame.

Three years later, David co-founded another legendary rock band, Crosby, Stills & Nash. CSN (which would later become Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young) enjoyed tremendous success in the 1960s and 70s, and is credited with launching the popularity of folk, psychedelic, and “California” rock during those tumultuous decades. Throughout those years, David’s ethereal vocals and exceptional songwriting skills garnered him critical acclaim and a devoted fan base that would follow him throughout his lifelong career as a solo performer and featured collaborator.

Like so many of his musical peers, David Crosby’s early life was not untouched by addiction. Following recovery and a well-publicized liver transplant in the 1980s, he never shied from recognizing his issues, sharing his personal story as a warning. In fact, David used the platform of his fame to champion a number of causes. An adamant pacifist, environmentalist, and waterman, David also became known as a passionate, effective activist.

For all his success, David never forgot his years on the Mesa. Over the last decades of his life, even as he enjoyed the triumphs of a career that earned him a 1997 induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, he periodically returned to the school to share his story and music with the Cate community.

During these visits, Crosby credited fondly-remembered language teachers with developing the deep love of literature which would deeply influence his songwriting over the years. “I started reading here, a lot,” he once said to a group gathered on the Mesa. “And I still do.”