Early Academics at the Academy, Part 1 of 2

There are few institutions of any kind that can trace a history parallel to that of the United States. Our beloved Cheshire Academy, chartered in 1794, is one of those rare institutions. Good schools are intrinsically sensitive to the culture in which they exist; CA has risen to the challenges facing the nation in its darkest hours with nobility and courage and has always demonstrated creativity and imagination in educating young people to have a responsive and generous vision of the United States and, especially today, the global world.

The Academy faculty in 1879

There are few institutions of any kind that can trace a history parallel to that of the United States. Cheshire Academy, chartered as The Episcopal Academy of Cheshire in 1794, is one of those rare institutions. Good schools are intrinsically sensitive to the culture in which they exist; the Academy has risen to the challenges facing the nation in its darkest hours with nobility and courage and has always demonstrated creativity and moral imagination in educating young people to have a responsive and generous vision of the United States and, today, towards an ever more integrated global culture.

The era just after the American Revolution is fascinating. How interesting and challenging it must have been to be aware that a new kind of nation had to be constructed, a nation unlike any other in modern world history. Schools, of course, would play a major role in this extraordinary project. In the limited literature about the early period of the school, the energy, passion, and excitement of the new world shine through, all crystalized in the formation of a new institution by thirty Cheshire farmers who pooled their modest resources to buy land and hire a clergyman to lead the way. Only thirteen were members of the Episcopal Church, but they were all “deeply impressed with the importance of establishing literary institutions”, and they agreed on a central mission of educating young people for service in the clergy. The school would find its early way along with the emerging nation, and both would face many upheavals and struggles.

Samuel Seabury

Leading up to the American Revolution, Episcopalians had strong ties to the Church of England and tended to be loyal to the British crown. The tension between Episcopalians and the more “revolutionary” Congregationalists was still in the air in 1794, but all were committed to forming a new nation. Samuel Seabury, the clergyman chosen by the farmers, traveled to England to be ordained as the first bishop of the American Episcopal Church; upon his return he began his project of developing The Episcopal Academy of Connecticut. Cheshire was one of three towns considered for the site; the others were Stratford and Wallingford. Representatives of Cheshire made a strong presentation to the regional diocese, pledging active community support, which proved decisive. Despite its ties to the Episcopal Church, the school’s original charter specifically states that no student would ever be required to participate in public worship, unless parents mandated it. Girls were welcome in 1796 until 1836, when they were no longer admitted. 117 girls attended the school, in many cases for just one year. At the very inception of the school, a limited but nonetheless important vision of inclusiveness proved to be a powerful and important aspect of the school’s identity - one that has spanned its entire life.

Gideon Welles

Bowden Hall, 1796

The Academy began operations in 1796, and soon thereafter builders constructed a state-of-the-art academic building, known today as Bowden Hall. Students lived with families scattered throughout the town. Samuel Seabury died just as the school was born, and Reverend Bowden became its first principal. When Bowden left in 1801, Dr. William Smith was named principal, and he made an effort to introduce “Natural Theology,” a phrase for what we now call physical science. He built “a philosophical apparatus” comprised of a small tower with a revolving top, candles, tin sails and a few other parts which ably demonstrated how solar energy sets the winds of the earth in motion. Smith and several other important people in the school’s early history held a belief that education should be interesting, practical, and sometimes joyful, another prophetic example of what the school would ultimately become.

The decades of the 1800s leading up to the Civil War were uneven and complicated for the school. Students were attending from all over the union, as well as Cuba, Puerto Rico and other places in the West Indies. The total number of students averaged about sixty. In those years, the state government in Hartford, a group dominated by Congregationalists, made visits to evaluate matters at the school and also had significant power in shaping many policies. For example, the school asked to hold a lottery for admissions in 1801, hoping to raise $15,000. They were first denied but then received permission in 1802 and were able to raise $12,000. Having showed itself to be a viable institution, the school was officially incorporated by the General Assembly of Connecticut in 1806. At this time the school petitioned to become a college and would do so again a few years later. The assembly denied the applications, partly because they wanted a college more centrally located in the state. Accordingly, Washington College was formed in Hartford, soon to be renamed Trinity College. The early history of the Episcopal Academy-even then casually known as Cheshire Academy-is interwoven in many ways with the stories of neighboring schools Yale, Wesleyan, and Trinity.

Reverend John Bowden

Two articles in the school’s first charter reveal the curriculum at the time: “The English Language, Philosophy, Mathematics, and every other science taught at Colleges; likewise, the dead languages, such as Greek and Latin, and whenever the finances of the academy permit, the Trustees shall procure an instructor in the French Language, purchase a Library and Philosophical Apparatus, at their own discretion.”

Three people destined for fame came to Cheshire in the 1820s: Gideon Welles and Andrew Foote arrived in 1821 as students; Bronson Alcott worked briefly as a teacher. Both Welles and Alcott were strong-willed, highly intelligent and critical of the common educational methods of the time. Their attitudes and beliefs about education were complex; they thought that the school should be focused on useful knowledge, creativity, and the joy of learning. Welles found his teachers, mostly clergymen, domineering, pedantic, and uninteresting, so much so that he avoided college for several years after graduating from Cheshire Academy. Despite his frustrations, however, he noted that Cheshire Academy produced a “surprising alteration” in him, and that he experienced “an improvement which I shall never expect again in twice that period.” Welles wrote a full length play in his senior year that was put on stage, a political drama featuring American veterans of the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812, along with a suspicious British antagonist. All of the main characters had ties to the sea, a theme closely tied to the life of Welles, who later served as Lincoln’s Secretary of the Navy during the Civil War. Among his close friends at the school was Foote, who would attend West Point and serve in the Union Navy during the Civil War. Welles and Foote remained close, and the Secretary of the Navy offered his friend support throughout the war. Foote distinguished himself as a naval commander and earned the rank of Rear Admiral during the war. He died unexpectedly in 1863 and was buried in New Haven, his childhood home. Welles was also a passionate advocate of democracy and, despite his upper class upbringing, was profoundly egalitarian in his attitude about American society. He wrote explicitly about the “untapped potential” in common American people, so he was deeply satisfied to see Abraham Lincoln rise to power. Bronson Alcott served briefly at Cheshire Academy when his uncle Reverend Tillotson Bronson served as the principal of the school. His uncle was conservative in his instincts about education, so the two men clashed. Reverend Bronson had a brief and unremarkable tenure at Cheshire Academy, while his nephew went on to international fame as an innovative and passionate educator. Today we routinely incorporate the basic insights of Bronson Alcott, an early advocate of “student-centered” education and a leading light in the school's history.

Despite its many successes, the school experienced some hard times in the 1830s. In 1835, the school temporarily closed for one year. Perhaps as a means to stimulate growth, a decision was made to become a boarding school, which likely led to the end of coeducation at the time. A petition asking for the re-admittance of girls was submitted to the state government in 1850, but, like many other requests made by the Academy, it was denied.

The history of the period leading up to the Civil War is relatively obscure, but two more alumni destined for fame arrived in the 1840s: J.P. Morgan and Joe Wheeler. Morgan became one of the most famous financial leaders in U.S. history; his private banking decisions influenced the entire U.S. economy. Wheeler attended West Point and later became a general in the Confederate Army. The Civil War obliterated the United States such as it had been since the American Revolution, and we are still trying to resolve the difficult legacies of the Civil War. One can note Wheeler’s presence at the school and the significant role he played in our national history. He chose loyalty to his closest friends and his place of birth and no doubt believed, that he was doing his legitimate duty. As noted in the introduction, the history of the school is parallel to that of the country; surely every institution of the time was painfully torn by the Civil War. Wheeler later served as a congressman from Alabama and returned to the U.S. Army to serve with Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders. He attended at least one school alumni event in New York City in the 1880s.

In 1862, with the nation struggling with the agony of the war, Reverend Horton assumed the leadership of the school. One of his first decisions was to turn the school into a military institution, complete with blue-grey uniforms, which is commemorated today with our own blue-grey formal dress. The school’s focus on educating future ended in the Civil War period; however, a nonsectarian chapel was built in 1863 where students congregated daily. These were dark and profoundly uncertain times in the U.S., and Reverend Horton seemed to find the right tone and approach for the floundering school. He earned a reputation as a goodnatured educator with genuine concern for the happiness and well-being of the students. There were military drills and parades, complete with heavy muskets, rough, dangerous play of various kinds that would be wildly illegal today, and a strict educational approach that allowed for painfully long marching punishments for bad grades. Such was the spirit of the times, and Reverend Horton’s firm leadership led to a long, sustained period of advancement for the school.

Professor Woodbury

First Baseball Team 1880

Horton was fortunate to draw two charismatic teachers to the school during his tenure, both of whom made a lasting impression upon many boys: Eri Woodbury and Andrew Philips. Woodbury was affectionately called “The Professor” by the students. He lost two fingers in the battle leading up to the southern surrender at Appomattox and was present for the famous ceremony while under the command of a celebrated officer later to become infamous - George Armstrong Custer. The “professor” was a gifted storyteller and enthusiastic and compassionate history teacher. The boys couldn’t get enough of his war stories. He related one tale about accidentally shooting a woman, fortunately giving her only a flesh wound. She was outraged, of course, but Woodbury gave her four pounds of sugar and coffee, and they eventually became very good friends. Despite his reputation as a strict disciplinarian, Woodbury was known to be fond of the students and someone they could count on for support and encouragement. He believed all students “had more good in them than harm” and treated them accordingly at all times. He stepped in briefly as interim principal on two occasions in his later years when the school needed his help. It was Woodbury, recipient of a military honor in 1917, who gave the school the wooden baton used in school ceremonies today. The baton is made from the wood of the Union sloop Cumberland, a ship involved in the famous first naval battle of the Civil War. The top of the slim baton is a rounded crest into which is set a metal horseshoe made from the armor plating of the Confederate ship, Merrimac. Philips taught math at the school for 10 years before leaving to become a professor of mathematics at Yale and eventually Dean of the Graduate School there -all without an undergraduate degree from any college. Philips was a man of continuous good humor; many boys thought he considered life itself some kind of big joke. He was seen reading all the time, even when seated at a meal. Various histories of the school refer to both of these men again and again in many different contexts.

The late 1800s also saw the beginning of a formal athletics program. The school’s first baseball team formed in 1880, and there were also clubs for wrestling, tennis and some form of American football, a sport entirely new to the world.

The school prospered into the twentieth century, when, in 1903, the military element of the school was formally eliminated after the school was purchased by an alumnus, Mr. Harriman, who invested $100,000 of his own money, a very large sum at the time, for modernization of the campus. The name of the school changed to The Cheshire School. While this move had the support of many alumni, and led to a burst of growth, it was not without controversy. The limited accounts of this period suggest a serious clash between commercially minded trustees like Harriman and Morgan and academic icons like Philips. Harriman had serious academic ambitions for the school, but his autocratic approach alienated people like Philips who resigned as a trustee, along with several others. The Harriman regime ended in 1907, and Woodbury, for the second time, became the interim principal of the school. John Davis Skilton was hired to lead, and just three years later, Klimpke, a teacher from The Taft School, leased the school and became its principal. Klimpke was reputedly a competent and well-liked leader who presided over the school until it was purchased in 1917 by the Roxbury School, a program with direct ties to Yale.

Some alumni were deeply disappointed with what was effectively the end of The Episcopal Academy of Connecticut and The Cheshire School. However, the second change in name was perhaps not as meaningful as it then seemed to be, as many fundamental aspects of the school remained intact. The Roxbury School was built around the idea of very small classes, about five members each, all of whom had aspirations to attend Yale. After a few years of operation, the Roxbury School promoted one of its teachers to become the principal in 1923–Arthur Sheriff.

Dr. Arthur Sheriff

Various historical accounts of the school say little about the general WWI era. It’s likely the school was deeply affected, of course, and some graduates died in the war. This gap in the history may be partly due to the major fire of 1941 that destroyed the magnificent structure of Horton Hall, once

Arthur Sheriff led the development of the modern Cheshire Academy, a name adopted in 1937. Sheriff, perhaps the most influential person in the school’s long history, presided over the school until 1966. The current field house bears his name. Sharing the beliefs of Woodbury, Sheriff thought there was unrealized potential in many young men who were struggling for one reason or another. He thought that teachers should be close to students and that compassionate, excellent teaching could bring out often unexpected potential in young people, a core belief of the school today.

Sheriff guided the school capably through two especially difficult periods in the nation’s history: the Great Depression and World War II. Many graduates served and died in the war; we have a commemorative plaque with a regrettably long list of names. In our archives we have many stories from survivors, one of them a tragic, harrowing tale about a large group of shipwrecked young men clinging desperately to a large rock formation just off the Newfoundland coast for an entire, freezing night as one sailor after another, unable to endure any longer, was swept away to his death. Ninety-one sailors died before a rescue crew finally arrived. Former senior master and alumnus Bevan Dupre ’68 recalls Sheriff openly weeping when speaking to the assembled community about the deceased soldiers of WWII he had known as schoolboys. Sheriff’s deep feelings about veterans found another expression as well. Returning soldiers who had not finished high school, many of them over 20 years of age in 1945, were not welcome in public schools. Sheriff

Bowden Hall, 1940s

Present-Day Campus

instituted a special program for veterans at Cheshire Academy. They were funded in varying degrees by the GI Bill and had a special schedule involving ten hours of classes, six days a week. They had their own dorm and were allowed to do nearly anything they wanted except bring women into the dorm. Many of these men, struggling to find purpose upon their return from war and no doubt traumatized, felt that Cheshire Academy saved their lives. On one weekend, a few former soldiers traveled to a nearby airfield in Hartford and returned with a B-24 bomber aircraft, which sat on the lawn in front of Bowden Hall. After a few years, it had become an attractive nuisance for neighborhood children and had to be dismantled and removed, though rumor has it that the propeller is still buried somewhere on our front lawn. All told, 350 GIs graduated from Cheshire Academy from 1946-1950.

Arthur Sheriff provided strong, imaginative leadership until he retired in 1966. During most years in the early 1960s the school enrolled up to 800 boys. The 60s were also tumultuous and confusing; every educational institution grappled with the need to understand and adapt. Sheriff’s departure led to new challenges and some periods of instability and financial difficulty. A large group of alumni were personally loyal to Sheriff, and with his retirement, some drifted away. Nonetheless, many talented and dedicated educators continued to serve the school, and several major donors stepped up at a time of need for their beloved Academy. Many relatively new structures on campus bear their names.

We will explore more of Cheshire Academy’s History in Part II of this article the next issue.