Appreciating Northwood Forebears

BY VANDERLYN PINE ’55

World War II officially ended in September 1945. However, that date did not mean much to the families and loved ones of those who had been killed in the War. Commemorative activities continued on for several years, with statues, plaques, monuments, memorial rooms, bequests, and other forms of honor in memory of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice — their lives.

Northwood was the recipient of two such honorific gifts. First, there was the Lawton Davis Memorial Senior room and second, there was the bronze plaque listing the names of those who died in the war above the large fireplace in the living room. As is often the case in schools and colleges, time and new young people mute the profound emotions that had been behind the school’s acquisition of these two honors.

The fall of 1952 was full of new, exciting experiences for me. With very little fanfare (except from my parents and grandparents), I went away to school. Not just any school — Northwood School for Boys in the Olympic Village of Lake Placid. I had heard of Northwood because of several older boys from my hometown who had gone or were going there. I knew little else, but it was exciting to think about going away to a special place.

Growing up in the 1940s in the small town of New Paltz, New York, about equal distance from the Military Academy at West Point as well as from the official home of President Franklin D. Roosevelt at Hyde Park, NY, meant that World War II was a major source of community conversation and activities. A fair number of men and boys, as well as a few women, had gone off to war and a small number had died or been killed in action, and New Paltz had its fair share of commemorative memorials. Of these, I was aware but never felt connected.

Midway through my first Fall term a group of about six men who looked to be in their late 20s or early 30s came to Lake Placid to visit Northwood. The purpose of their visit was neither announced nor obvious. It could have been a football game or some other school function, but that didn’t matter —they were there together. They greeted and shook hands with some of the long-time faculty and laughed raucously at some secretive reminiscence of a long-ago happening. Then, they disappeared into the relatively new Lawton Davis Memorial Senior Room for a while.

The topic of their conversation therein is not known. It is what happened when they emerged from the room that is indelibly etched in my memory. Their faces were very serious, almost somber when they stood in front of the fireplace and the plaque. One of them mumbled something I could not hear, and they simultaneously drew to attention and saluted the plaque. Their crisp salute ended, and they turned in unison with tears on their faces and silently walked back through the living room into the entry lobby and out the front door. As a young teenager, their tribute forever changed the meaning of the plaque for me. Sixty-three years later, the sight of that World War II memorial plaque still brings tears to my eyes and thanks to my heart for the sacrifices a group of sixteen Northwood Boys made to keep our world safe and peaceful.

“Sixty-three years later, the sight of that World War II memorial plaque still brings tears to my eyes and thanks to my heart for the sacrifices a group of sixteen Northwood Boys made to keep our world safe and peaceful.”

—VANDERLYN PINE ’55