Enduring Foundations, A Century of Life on the Hillside, 1923-2024: Chapter 1

2 A Century of Life on the Hillside 1923-2024

Chapter

Prologue

Laying the Foundation

South Kent School was conceived in early 1920 in the minds of Father Frederick Herbert Sill and George Hodges Bartlett. Fr. Sill had founded the successful Kent School in 1906, and was its Headmaster; Bartlett was a young teacher there. The men had a vision for a new private boarding school for boys based on the founding principles of Kent, although Bartlett’s ideas differed from Sill’s slightly in the details.

Fr. Sill was the son of an Episcopal minister who was “concerned about social conditions and worked hard for improving the lot of working people,” according to the written history of Kent School.1 Sill himself was a monk of the Order of the Holy Cross, an international Anglican monastic order that follows the Rule of St. Benedict. In founding Kent, he set out to establish an Episcopal Church school for boys whose families could not afford the tuition at the more expensive schools that were popular at the time. It was a risky approach, but it worked.

Several years later, in 1923, he was to write in a letter to George Bartlett’s brother Sam: “What we have at Kent, we learned by actual experience. The only thing that could be called an ideal was expressed in our Purpose…We were ‘to provide at a minimum cost for boys of ability and character who presumably on graduation must be self-supporting, a combined academic and scientific course of study. Simplicity of life, self-reliance and directness of purpose are to be especially encouraged in the boys.’ I have no idea when I put those last phrases together and I am sure at the time I did not realize their full significance but we have tried to make them real.” The two sentences became the Mission Statement and Trinity of Values of Kent School, and eventually of South Kent as well.

As Kent School entered its second decade, Fr. Sill began to worry about the increasing size of the student body, believing that the survival of the school depended upon his ability to be involved in all aspects of his students’ lives. He was not only headmaster, he also taught classes, coached sports and nurtured the boys on a very personal level, and so he wanted to keep the school at around 200 students. This meant turning away an increasing number of applicants, which was not easy for him and he fretted about it.

The answer to his dilemma appeared on his doorstep in the fall of 1918 in the person of George Bartlett, who was from Webster, MA, and a graduate of Harvard University. George’s younger brother Sam had just graduated from Kent, as had a Harvard friend named Roger Sessions (the well-known composer), so he had learned about this small, self-reliant school from them. George was a scholar, a musician, an athlete and someone with a mind open to change. While he was deeply committed to the basic principles of Kent, he saw room for improvement in the system. After joining the faculty that year, he quickly bonded with Fr. Sill and together they began to envision an expansion of Kent School through the establishment of other small schools, with the same principles, to handle the overflow. Fr. Sill, known to most people simply as “Pater,” wanted to put those schools nearby in South Kent, East Kent, North Kent and West Kent. George, however, was not focused on the location as much as on the substance of the schools. On May 20, 1920, he wrote a letter to his dear friend Roger Sessions, discussing his own dreams for a new school. “I am conceiving a plan at present which may prove the solution of the struggle within me as to what to do in the future. Kent has long been overcrowded and is becoming more sought after every day. When Sam leaves college I want him to help me establish a new school somewhere in New England in which the good things of Kent are perpetuated and some additions made. The greatest difficulty with the situation here at Kent is that the relation between headmaster and boys is one too much of personal affection. As long as the boy fits into the mold more or less completely he gets along beautifully and is made much of. Pater tries awfully hard to cram other boys, who won’t fit, into the mold and blames the boy rather than himself for the failure. There is no doubt that he is a great man, and, in many cases, a miracle worker, but he might go a step further and draw out the qualities which each boy has in him rather than try to stuff him with material he cannot assimilate. I certainly can make no more successful school than Kent, but I should like to have one where the unattractive and silent boy would have a better chance.”

To put this divergence into context, it is worth noting that 1920 is considered to be the beginning of the Progressive Era of education in the U.S. and abroad. Led by famed University of Chicago philosopher, psychologist and educator John Dewey, it was a movement which focused more on developing the individual needs and interests of children than on teaching by rote and dictation within a set traditional structure. New research in psychology and social sciences was expanding the understanding of how children learned and what they needed to grow into well-rounded adults. The concept of the need for active participation in a healthy community and the understanding that individuals must be recognized for their own merits were both a major part of the Progressive movement.2 Fr. Sill had already introduced some of the first concept with his Trinity of Values for the school community, but he was in his mid-50s and very busy with the job of running the school at this point, so probably was not as attuned to the latter focus on the students’ individual merits.

George, on the other hand, was young, brilliant and inquisitive about new trends, so he was quite willing to take the next step beyond his mentor.

But tragedy struck before the step could be taken. Later that same year, George’s heart, weakened by childhood rheumatic fever, began to fail him. The family tried everything, even taking him to France for treatment, to no avail. George died on May 3, 1921, just 24 years old, and for a while it seemed like the dream had died with him. But in 1922, George’s younger brother Sam graduated from Lafayette College, and returned to Kent School to teach. Heartened by this turn of events, Fr. Sill began to revive the dream of a new school, determined to turn it into a reality, right in his own valley in northwest Connecticut, with Sam at the helm instead of George.

He needed a partner for Sam, because he knew that Sam was not quite as well-rounded as his brother had been. Yet he trusted his former Head Prefect completely and loved him like a son, as he wrote on Sam’s June 6, 1918, diploma. “My own boy Samuel Slater Bartlett, dear to me as a son. This is your diploma as a graduate of Kent School. I am sorry I am obliged to state the fact that I don’t know how we can get on without you; and who can take your place. I am deeply grateful for all that you have done for me. You came here as a small boy and for seven years you have given Kent your loving service. I know that you are going to be one of our great men. Try to show your love for the dear Saviour who gave himself for you by leading a life dedicated to his Honour and Glory. May God bless you — your loving Pater, FH Sill OHC”

Fr. Sill’s hunt for a partner for Sam turned out to be easy. Sam’s roommate, fellow prefect and best friend at Kent, Richard Matthei Cuyler, had taught for one year at Kent before heading off to Princeton in the class of 1923. Fr. Sill knew he would be the perfect balance for the energetic, sports-minded Sam, whose famous ancestor Samuel Slater (inventor of the first manufacturing mill

Samuel Slater Bartlett, from the South Kent 1927 yearbook.

in America) had instilled in the family a reverence for physical labor. Coming from an aristocratic Southern background, Dick Cuyler had a sharp intellect, as well as respect for eccentricity and artistic creativity, and so would be well-equipped to handle the academic side of life at the new school. He also was a superb athlete, which was important to both Sam and Pater.

In 1926, TIME Magazine did a cover story on the headmasters of notable New England private schools. After learning about such legends as Dr. Drury of St. Paul’s, Dr. Peabody of Groton and Dr. Thayer of St. Mark’s, readers of the magazine turned the page to see a picture of the “Youngest Headmaster, Samuel S. Bartlett.” The article discussed the origins of the school with Fr. Sill, and went on to say, “The headmaster of South Kent is Samuel Slater Bartlett, a 26-year-old New Englander now four years out of Lafayette College. Keen, vigorous, a young man of many interests and opportunities, he determined to make the school his career. His fellow prefect, Richard M. Cuyler, graduated by Princeton in 1923 with a high record, made the same choice and took the post of dean and registrar. Four other recent college graduates (Harvard, Lafayette and Princeton) soon joined them, and there is building today, not only a school, but another specific tradition of teaching that will reach out to other schools and back to the colleges.”3 It is ironic that Sam very quickly was dubbed the “Old Man” by South Kent students, an affectionate nickname that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

In late December, 1922, Fr. Sill made his move. In 1947, the Pigtail, South Kent’s student newspaper, featured a regular column called “Early Days,” which described what happened next. “Pater finally descended from the hills of Kent with a light in his eye, summoned Sam Bartlett from his home in Webster, Mass, where he had gone to cut wood for the winter, snatched Dick Cuyler from some tea dance which he was attending as part of his extra-curricular life at Princeton, and sat down to a weighty conference at the Columbia Club in New York. What actually transpired at that meeting is now somewhat hazy, but Pater was soon able to convince his two promising wards that they should renounce the marts of the trade and embark on a new adventure in a strange and alien

Richard Matthei Cuyler, from the South Kent 1928 yearbook.

field.” Not only was it a strange and alien field, but Pater wanted it done right away, by September of the very next year!

The incubation period from December 22 to the September 26 opening day was full of frantic activity and planning. They had to search for a site for the school and simultaneously begin raising funds to buy the property, renovate it and fully equip it before opening the doors for the fall term. Sam began a diary during this process, and the second entry describes their visit to the quiet South Kent hamlet known as “Pigtail.” After investigating a few locations elsewhere in town, the entry for Sunday, April 8, 1923, says “F.H.S [Sill] and S.S.B. [Bartlett] journey to S. Kent in the Hup [Hupmobile car] and look over prospective sites. The barns and brook on the Straight farm were in favor of the place while the shore front and general location of the Judd farm were greatly in its favor. F.H.S. was much impressed as I had been at the beautiful views at the top of the hill. On our return F.H.S interviewed Mr. Johnson [a local real estate dealer] about purchasing the Judd farm and plans were made for Mr. Judd to see F.H.S. on Tuesday or Wednesday.” The diary entries continue:

“April 11/23, Mr. Judd and Mr. Johnson interview Pater at Kent. Mr. Judd’s price is $12,000 and F.H.S. writes to a man putting it up to him.”

“April 21, 1923, Dick comes up from Princeton and we go down to S.K. He is as much impressed with the place as I was.”

“April 28/23, Pater hears from Mr. Rives of Washington, D.C., that he will give enough to buy the Judd farm. Great rejoicing in camp.” The purchase was made.

The John Judd farm, described in 1897 as “one of the largest and best farms in the town of Kent,”4 included an old ten-room farmhouse, barns, a lakeshore and many acres of land on which Fr. Sill envisioned athletic fields for a variety of sports. It also included a farmer named Martin Tomasovski and his wife, Louise. Martin, whose name was pronounced “Marteen,” quickly proved himself to be a critical part of the successful transformation of the farm into a school. Martin and Mrs. Martin, as they were called, would settle into a routine with Sam and Dick, teaching them about the crops that the school would continue to grow for its own sustenance (and for income, in the

on the Hillside 1923-2024

case of the annual tobacco harvest), as well as helping out on the grounds and in the kitchen and laundry.

First, they had to assess the condition of the house itself. Fr. Sill brought in contractor H.H. Taylor of New Milford, who did much of the work on the Kent School buildings, to see what needed to be done before the house could be converted into a space for a dormitory, classrooms, offices and more. Taylor decided that the chimneys and roof were in bad shape, but that the rest of it was pretty sound.

The May 3, 1923, diary entry goes on to say, “As for an athletic field the piece of land north from the house beyond the lower hay barn was considered the best. The springs will always provide ample drinking water while it will be a simple matter pumping water from the lake.” Sam would soon find out that providing any kind of water was not a simple matter at all, but they did eventually surmount those difficulties in true South Kent self-reliant fashion.

The next entry addressed an equally important issue — what to do with the farm. “May 15, 1923, Went to S.K. with Mr. Judd and went around the boundary. Much larger than I expected. Talked with

Martin “Marteen” Tomasovski. Louise Tomasovski, usually known as “Mrs. Marteen” or “Teeny.”

Mr. Judd about tobacco, potatoes and his man Martin…On consultation with F.H.S. in the evening, it was decided to start with as near a clean slate as possible. Therefore for the first year we will buy all potatoes and our milk. Although the tobacco might bring in $300-400 it was thought too risky and requiring too much labor to take a chance on. I am to see Mr. Judd and tell him of the decision and also see that Martin understands. I must see Dr. Barnum [head of the local power company] about getting electricity over to S.K. from Bulls Bridge.”

“May 17, 1923. I went to see Mr. Judd and Dr. Barnum this morning. I told Mr. Judd that it would be impracticable for us to try to grow anything for a year or two and that it would be just as cheap to buy our potatoes and milk. He was very nice about it and only wanted Martin to be allowed to take in his potatoes, wheat and possibly some tobacco. He is a fine man to deal with. Dr. Barnum was also most cordial and said that… he thought it would be easy to have the poles put over to S.K. A few other people want it and among us it should pay in a few years.”

In spite of the decision not to get involved with planting tobacco and potatoes, by May 27th they had decided to do just that, most likely because of assurance from Martin that it could work. Mr. Judd and other friends gave bushels of seed potatoes for the first planting. On June 4, Sam noted that they had planted 11 ½ bushels with help from some friends at Kent School. That may have been the very first tradition established at South Kent School because harvesting the potato crop continued to be an annual all-school project and source of great pride for the boys for many decades to come. Tobacco, however, was eventually discontinued, in spite of its being a good cash crop.

At the same time, Sam was also working with Fr. Sill on a “circular letter” to be sent out to prospective students’ families, and hoping that he would be able to find the right man to teach mathematics. Plans for the renovation were being developed with a Mr. Sylvester and interviews with the first potential student applicants were conducted. He noted that Mrs. Ransom had come to look at the school and was “rather apprehensive about her boy getting in.”

Meanwhile, Mr. Taylor was scheduled to set to work on a variety of projects on July 1st, the most important of which was adding a significant addition to the old house in order to provide the various necessary rooms. Plans were quickly drawn up. With Mr. Rives’ $12,000, a mortgage was secured, and Sam wrote in his diary on June 21st that Taylor had actually started work that morning. He noted that he also was looking for a house for Mr. and Mrs. Martin, and still pursuing the power company to get the electric lines strung from Bulls Bridge — haggling over the cost per pole. And, as if that were not enough, he was going

The first addition to the old Judd farmhouse.

to New York the next day to ask someone named Jack Wallace for financial help. A few days later, he went down to New Haven to buy a new 1923 Ford Drop-side pickup truck, which quickly became an indispensable tool on the developing campus, along with Martin’s elderly but sturdy team of horses, Susie and Helen.

The middle of July found busy Sam back in the fields with Martin and a Kent School student, spraying potatoes, sawing wood and pitching “tons” of hay. The hay was to be a cash crop that might sell for as much as $20 per ton the following spring. It is clear that they were working every angle possible to raise enough money to meet the September 26th opening day deadline. But they had a bit of great news on that front. Fr. Sill, who was doing the bulk of the fundraising, had cannily struck a major deal that netted $10,000 for the new school. The 1947 Pigtail described it well: “It seems that at that time a Mrs. Bessie Kibbey came up to Kent to enroll her nephew in the school. Finding the school already overcrowded, she expressed regret and said that she had always prayed that her nephew might one day enter Kent. Pater thought the matter over carefully and came back with the rejoinder that it had always been his prayer the he could get $10,000 to get a school started down in the valley and he allowed as how if she would answer his prayer, he would answer hers. And so it was agreed.”

Throughout this frantic time, Dick Cuyler was finishing his studies at Princeton, so was not available to help with the intense amount of on-site work to be done. While he and Sam had kept in touch, it must have been a real relief when Dick was finally able to come north at some point in August, joining Sam who was still living on the Kent School campus. His arrival was a great comfort, and the pair set to work to put the finishing touches on the school. Sam’s last long entry in his diary before the actual opening of the school was dated Sept 16, 1923. In it, he noted that the power lines had been installed and that they hoped to have electricity in a few days; that Mr. Taylor was finished with the buildings but that the plumbers and steam fitters were not; that Martin and Mrs. Martin had agreed to work as farmer and kitchen helper; that he had moved his office to S.K.; that he had hired Miss Clara Dulon to act as house mother; that they had twenty boys

Miss Dulon more typically at work keeping everything clean and tidy.

Miss Dulon relaxing on the front porch.

enrolled and finally that he and Dick had moved to the school. He wrote that they had tried washing in the horse trough, but because that was a bit chilly, they were “reserving their ablutions for Kent.” He expressed great respect and admiration for Martin, Mrs. Martin and Miss Dulon, a faith that was to be borne out daily as the new school grew and matured. All three were major fixtures in the lives of the South Kent School boys for a long time to come.

Sam had also hired Stanley Goodwin to teach mathematics and Theresa Wortman to be the cook, and so had a staff of seven ready to meet the charter scholars ten days later. There was still much to do. The Pigtail history has this glimpse into the evening of September 25th: “The night before the school opened the staff was busy indeed. Sam Bartlett and Dick Cuyler with Stan Goodwin were still unpacking bureaus by the light of the moon in the front courtyard, while Miss Dulon was putting the finishing touches on the kitchen department…It was only after the staff had finished its work and was sitting out on the front porch in the cool air and wondering what was in store for them the next day, that Dick Cuyler happened to remember that, after all their efforts at stocking the place, there was not a book in the school. That evening before turning in the staff took one last look around the grounds and tried to figure out whether or not there was anything else that they had forgotten. Books could be ordered but everything else had to be in good shape. True, the plumbing was not all that could be desired and there were a few minor deficiencies elsewhere, but they felt safe in starting off although a bit apprehensive.” South Kent School was born the next day, when Sam, Dick and Stan became Mr. Bartlett, Mr. Cuyler and Mr. Goodwin, and stood on the porch of the farmhouse, waiting with Miss Dulon to greet their charter scholars.

The role that Fr. Sill played in the establishment and success of South Kent cannot be overstated. He functioned as intimately in the process as he routinely did at Kent. He raised tremendous amounts of money, recruited students, and gave advice on a daily basis, often on-site. Once the school opened, he served as Chairman of the Board of Trustees for many years, and as substitute chaplain and teacher on many occasions. He also often brought over his Kent School sixth formers to give advice and support during the early months of school, especially the first night when they helped to tuck 24 very young boys into bed before heading back over the river to their own dorms. Perhaps Fr. Sill’s biggest contribution to Sam personally was the regular, lengthy letters he wrote to his young friend as their journey proceeded throughout 1923. The letter quoted above was the first of a long series in which Fr. Sill spelled out in great detail the steps

he had taken to establish the institutions, traditions, programs and community that were flourishing at Kent, and gave advice to Sam about how to best profit from that knowledge. Though the Kent — South Kent relationship was never a legal one, the founding principles were identical, and Sam freely instituted at South Kent much of what had been instilled in him as a student at Kent, right down to the Mission Statement and Trinity of Values that are the bedrock of both schools.

Fr. Sill’s greatest gift to the school was his focus on the Chapel. South Kent was founded on strong Episcopal principles, and the Chapel, both physical and in essence, has been a centering force since the very first day when a service was held in the schoolroom. This influence has continued today even as the student body has expanded to include many other faiths. The question, “What is a Church School?” has been addressed repeatedly throughout the school’s history. In 1963, Headmaster Wynne Wister wrote that a simple answer would be that a “church school has a chapel with regular services and all the boys take a course in Sacred Studies.” But he then discussed in detail the way the Christian spirit would permeate every aspect of life on campus, citing concern and respect for fellow community members, leadership by example of both faculty and students, hospitality and sportsmanship in athletic competitions, and responsibility for one’s own actions. Mr. Wister’s thoughts echoed those of Fr. Sill and Sam Bartlett as they had discussed it in 1923. Fr. Sill wrote to Sam that the greatest goal was to have the graduates leave school as “upright, reverent, unselfish men,” and even suggested a daily voluntary morning Eucharist. He urged Sam to set an example by always attending the service himself. Their objective was to have the Christian lessons combine with the progressive ideals on classroom education and spill over into athletics and the rest of community life. As Sam would later write in the 1927 yearbook, “Without the Chapel, South Kent would not be South Kent.”

Chapter 1 1923 - 1933

How it Came About: Simplicity of Life in the Roaring Twenties

People in the quiet little hamlet of Pigtail in South Kent, Connecticut, watched with curiosity as a straggling parade of unfamiliar cars made its way up the twisty dirt road towards the brand-new South Kent School throughout the day on September 26, 1923. These neighbors had seen all the frantic activity going on over the previous four months at the old Judd farm, with some of them actually lending a helping hand with the preparations. Pigtail was about to acquire 24 new residents, from all over the country. Today was the big day.

Curiosity, along with a healthy dose of nervous apprehension, surely was felt as well by the growing cluster of young boys in knickers, who, having bid tearful goodbyes to their families, began to take in their new surroundings. Bits of building material and plumbing supplies cluttered the yard, and a new flagpole lay flat on the ground, awaiting the time when it could be placed upright and the flag hoisted. But the school building in front of them shone with a fresh coat of paint, and the barns and fields around them held the promise of many places to explore. The new grownups in their lives, Mr. Bartlett, Mr. Cuyler, Mr. Goodwin and Miss Dulon, hiding their own apprehension, greeted them warmly and began the process of settling them in.

Diary entry for September 26, 1923: “School has started. I cannot quite state my feelings. At times I feel utterly incapable of the job and then again I feel very confident. MacManus and Ward came in early yesterday spending the night at the Inn with their mothers. Today all the boys come except for Crawford whom we are to hear from. Thompson’s grandmother nearly caused a scene saying she couldn’t bear it, etc. Our first meal went off in fine style, the boys turning to and helping immensely. We had our first chapel in the schoolroom and sang ‘The Son of God Goes Forth to War.’ The boys are now in bed. Dick and I are sitting in the office talking things over. He is a great help and I don’t know what I would do without him. The [Kent] Sixth Form just called up from the Study and bid me good night. May I have a Sixth like that someday. Crawford is not to be entered. Financial reasons.”

By the boys’ own account, written several years later in the 1928 yearbook, “school started off with a bang the first night. The air in the dormitory was virtually thick with missiles of shoes, slippers and the like.” Those 24 charter scholars were Aaron, Brown, Buckingham, Colt, Cumming, deCoppett, Dingwall, Gilbert, Gustafson, Harris, Hazen, Kimball, McManus, Meyer, Murphy, Newhall, Ransom, Schurz, Stevens, Thompson, Ward, White, Whitney and Woodward, entering the Second and Third Forms. They were to be joined in January by four more boys: Balch, Gillette, Simpson and the very young 11-year-old Files, who was often quite homesick. The Second Form was the equivalent of eighth grade, with the average second former being 13 or 14 years old. As the school grew over the next three years, Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Forms were added, with the Sixth Form being the equivalent high school senior class.

The concept of self-help was introduced right off the bat, with the boys pitching in to get the first dinner on the tables and washing up afterward. Dinner consisted of scrambled eggs cooked by the Headmaster, and was followed by the first chapel

Balch came to School halfway through the year, lugging his own bags up Spooner Hill from the train station, thus learning his first lesson in self-reliance. That and the next lesson of simplicity of life must not have agreed with him because he did not stay long enough to graduate.

The Charter Scholars, left to right: Aaron, Ward, Colt, Hazen, Stevens, Whitney, deCoppett, Cumming, Thompson, Gustafson, Murphy, Newhall, Harris, MacManus, White, Brown, Woodward, Ransom, Buckingham, Meyer, Gilbert, Kimball, Schurz, Dingwall.

service, held in the classroom, at which they sang, “The Son of God Goes Forth to War.” The altar was a packing box topped with a cross made of a couple of sticks, and the congregation was made up of two masters, the Housemother and three boys who knelt on the floor between the desks. The next day, instead of heading for the classrooms, the boys were given shovels and rakes, and put to work alongside the masters to help get the yard cleaned up and tidy. Part of the reason may have been that the main classroom was still full of plumbing supplies, and also the fact that there were no books to be had! But soon they all started to settle into the beginnings of routine, with classes, chores, meals, athletics and chapel. The boys were very young, however they learned very quickly that much was expected of them as integral players in getting the new school up on its feet. Though the old farmhouse had been doubled in size, the school building was packed tight. The third floor held the dormitory, a washroom with showers and lockers, and rooms for Mr. Cuyler and Mr. Goodwin. The dorm rooms were so small that most of the boys did not have their own dresser in which to store their clothes, but there was a large one down the hall that they shared. A small, rudimentary infirmary was on the second floor, along with rooms for Miss Dulon and Mr. Bartlett. The first floor housed the dining room, classrooms, reception room, living room with a makeshift library, and finally the kitchen and other utility rooms. Eventually, space for a chapel was created in a room in the basement. The 1929 Class History spelled out the truly spartan conditions of the first few years: “Our study-hall was what is now a supply room. In the winter the temperature in this room went down to fifteen degrees above zero, and classes were held in mittens and sheepskins. The blackboard was only a large piece of card-board which soon became useless as every chalk-mark scratched off the paint.”

In the beginning, all aspects of running the school were done by the same few people. Teachers doubled as coaches, dorm masters and even business

The dorm after it had been opened up to provide more space.

Murphy working with Susie and Helen.

managers, while Mr. and Mrs. Martin and Miss Dulon took care of just about everything else, usually with the help of the boys. As the school grew in later decades, the workload came to be distributed over many more-focused staff positions, but at the start, the self-help system with the boys was a true necessity as well as an educational goal. There was no set job program at first, yet there was no end of work for the boys to do. Mr. Bartlett noted in his diary, “Miss Dulon has proved herself a gold mine. She is a wonder and there is nothing she cannot do. The boys and the parents think very highly of her… Stan Goodwin has without doubt proved a success. He has all the boys at his heels and his table is continually in a roar of laughter… Of course Dick is the stump to which I always tie my ship in case of storm. He is working harder than any of us.”

ACADEMICS

It took a while for the academic aspect of the boys’ education to get started. The editors of the 1928 yearbook wrote about the earliest days, “Although we didn’t appreciate it at the time, we practically had a holiday for the first two weeks of school but we soon were put to work in the classroom.” Mr. Bartlett taught history, while Mr. Cuyler taught English and Latin and Mr. Goodwin taught mathematics. The next year they were joined by Fr. J.H. Kemmis, who was able to add the necessary French classes as well as lead the chapel services. In 1925, Lewis “Buzz” Cuyler, brother of Dick, joined the faculty to teach English and Latin. The faculty increased slowly over the years, and by the time the school completed its tenth year, there were eight faculty members, and the classes included history, English, Latin, mathematics, French, Spanish, physics and chemistry. One of those eight was William. P. Gillette, a member of the Class of 1929 and the first of a great many alumni who returned to teach.

Mr. Bartlett noted in his diary during the first year that there had been complaints about the lack of music instruction. That lack frustrated him, but he knew that he couldn’t do it all right away. His main focus was on getting the right people on the faculty, and so the subjects offered varied a bit over the decade, depending on the skills of the individual masters he decided to hire. One such example was Albion Patterson,

The Faculty in 1933. Front: Mr. Cameron, Mr. Patterson, Mr. Woodward, Mr. West, Mr. Gillette. Back: Mr. Cuyler, Mr. Bartlett, Fr. Mayo.

who joined the faculty in 1927, taking over the French instruction from Fr. Kemmis. An article in a January, 1928, issue of the Pigtail proudly announced, “One of Mr. Patterson’s French exams was seen by a teacher at Lawrenceville. This teacher made the following statement: ‘I believe that many college graduates would be unable to pass this.’ It is interesting to note that there were three flunks in this exam, while six passed, one of which passed was an 83.” Mr. Patterson was clearly a good teacher, and was popular with the boys as well. Mr. Bartlett had made a good choice.

A significant addition to the faculty was Samuel Woodward, who arrived in 1926. There is an amusing anecdote about his hiring that shows the careful scrutiny to which Mr. Bartlett subjected his potential faculty members. During the summer of 1925, Woodward arrived in a large Cadillac to interview for a position at the school. He was dressed in a natty fedora and an elegant suit, with two beautiful ladies on his arms. He was not hired. He drove back up Spooner Hill a year later, alone, in an old Ford, and got the job. “Woody,” as he quickly became known by all, taught history and English and would eventually become the school’s skilled and wily business manager whose talent for finding WWII surplus supplies, ranging from water pumps to faculty housing, will be discussed in a later chapter.

Classes were held in the morning, after chapel, breakfast and jobs. There was a recess in the middle of the morning, and then study periods after lunch and supper. Everyone was required to attend the full hour and a half evening study period, which seemed to be quite a trial for the youngsters in the beginning.

The May 28, 1928, issue of the Pigtail includes an item titled “STUDY PERIOD,” which describes the less-than-productive use of that time: “Macomber in a weird position leaning against the wall, Kimball with his eye shade and drawing instruments, Thompson with a broad grin walking in from a conference with a master, Sherwood opening a window, Dudley shutting it, Owen throwing a wad of paper in the general direction of the box, Harris putting it in, Borgstedt and Macomber shoving away moths and June bugs, Campbell trying not to smile, Sproule sucking a finger, Rice studying.”

Perhaps that portrayal was only in jest, but by the following fall, the faculty had decided to make some changes. The new plan allowed boys with marks over 75% to skip the evening study period. Those under 75% had to stay for an hour, and then could leave if they wanted to. The faculty felt that the shortened times

“Woody”

in appropriate SKS attire.

would encourage the boys to knuckle down and “exert all their efforts on the given work” instead of getting bored and messing around.

The faculty was also paying attention to the percentage marking system that had been traditionally used at Kent, and so instituted at South Kent. In the fall of 1927, they declared that there was too much emphasis being placed on achieving a high number just to pass courses when the boys had been sent to South Kent for a life-impacting education. So, they introduced an experimental new system for the Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Forms that awarded an “S” for a satisfactory academic performance, and “U” for those who fell short. By 1931, however, the marking system had reverted back to percentage points for all forms. Marks were given out monthly to the Second, Third and Fourth Form, and twice a term for the two upper forms. The boys had to send a letter home every Sunday, and were expected to include their marks monthly. Not completely trusting that the boys would do so, the school also sent them out to the parents a few days later. Mr. Bartlett would announce the marks, ranking the forms in order of performance and noting the top-ranking student and members of the Honor Roll. He also gave a holiday when the overall percentage reached a certain level.

On the flip side, he announced in February, 1927, that for every point under seventy in the school average, one day would be lopped off their upcoming spring vacation. They had a scant five weeks to pull their grades up — another example of teaching them to put their community’s interests ahead of their own. This led to an amusing advertisement placed by a business-minded student in the Pigtail: “YOUR BEST FRIEND WON’T TELL YOU, but it is easy to raise those grades if you know how. APPLY MODERN METHODS TO YOUR WORK. Our PSYCHOLOGICAL system has proven its worth. We guarantee success or your money back. SEND FOR FREE INFORMATION. PSYCHOLGICAL INSTITUTE. P.O. Box 9, South Kent School, South Kent, Conn.”

An academic hammer hanging over the heads of the Fourth and Fifth Forms every year was the dreaded College Boards, standardized tests that anyone who wanted to enter college would have to pass. High marks during the school year would give parents an idea about their sons’ chances of passing the College Boards. After the Prize Day ceremony was over, those boys who did not want to go on to college went home, leaving the others to study hard during the “Cram Week,” after which the tests were taken at Kent School. Not until then could they, too, go home for a well-deserved summer break. Cram week was abolished in 1930, after extensive debate over how much students really retained in that short intense study time. The feeling was that the students should work hard all year long to truly absorb what they were being taught, rather than just filling their heads with facts and figures during the aptly-named Cram Week.

COMMUNITY — Chapel

For the first year, the duties of the chaplain, including the teaching of Sacred Studies as well as leading the various chapel services, were carried out by Fr. Sill and Fr. Alan Whittemore, also from Kent School, and by Mr. Bartlett himself, each filling in as the need arose. Fr. Kemmis was hired the next year and stayed until 1929, during which time he played a very important role in the boys’ lives. A member of the class of 1933, Alexander Hamilton, said that Fr. Kemmis “was an Englishman who spoke with an Upland accent but it was quite clear. He was a very kindly sort and was understanding of growing boys.” The early school movies show an active, happy man, teaching the boys to play cricket, riding one of the school’s huge work horses and generally keeping spirits lifted in whatever way he could. Between 1929 and 1931, two more chaplains came and went, likely because the pay was low and the workload heavy. Fr. Sill and Mr. Bartlett once again had to share the duties until a steady replacement could be found. It was worth the wait. They found Fr. William Robertson, a retired parish priest, who loved working with the boys, and was able to get them more involved in the chapel service by taking turns reading the scripture in front of the congregation. He also enjoyed telling ghost stories in the dorms after “lights,” and regularly gave teas in his rooms.

Doug Borgstedt’s early cartoons appear in the 1928 and 1929 yearbooks. A keen observer of the human race, Doug went on to have a prolific career as a nationally recognizable professional cartoonist. After college, he drew cartoons for the Saturday Evening Post, and became its cartoon editor and then its photography editor. In the army during WWII, he helped design Yank magazine and was its first editor. Later his cartoons were syndicated in over 90 newspapers and magazines, including the New Yorker, Saturday Evening Post, New York and Esquire magazines, and were featured in exhibits at the Museum of Modern Art and the Metropolitan Museum.

At the time of Fr. Robertson’s arrival, chapel was held in a small room in the basement of the Old Building. It was next door to the room with the showers and lockers, which led

to Fr. Kemmis’s famous crack, “At South Kent, cleanliness has always been next to Godliness.” Fr. Kemmis and Miss Dulon worked hard to beautify the little room, and managed to acquire an organ to accompany the singing. The Pigtail editors bemoaned the access to the chapel: “Sliding down precipitous stairs into the cellar with the coal bin to our left and the furnace to our rear, we sidled past the cistern, which is now the Sacristy, to our benches.”

A chapel bell, given to the school in memory of George Hodges Bartlett, was mounted in the belfry on the roof, and rung by a rope that hung down into the third-floor dorm. The 1928 yearbook editors described the daily service: “This service is the acme of simplicity and beauty and is held every evening before supper; a few moments of quiet, a hymn, and a few prayers, how delightful and sincere.” They also noted that the need for a permanent chapel was obvious to everyone, and it was hoped that fundraising would begin soon. It did.

Dismayed by those precipitous stairs and the cramped quarters in the dark, damp basement, Fr. Robertson fully supported Mr. Bartlett’s desire for an actual chapel building, and immediately set about helping to raise the needed funds. He and Mr. Bartlett made trips to New York, and he also encouraged the boys to do their bit in the effort. An architect was hired, and by the fall of 1931, the foundation for a fine new chapel had been laid. Lack of funds prevented any further building that year, but the effort continued in earnest, and by the spring of 1933, construction began again. Sadly, the elderly Fr. Robertson had retired, but his contribution to the Chapel in his two short years was enormous.

The October 13, 1945, issue of the Pigtail began a series of articles about the principal buildings of the School, and, fittingly, started with the Chapel: “In the spring of 1933, they were just short of the amount they had set as a goal so it was decided that the construction should start. Forty of the older boys volunteered to do the heavy work such as hauling brick and mortar. They were divided into groups of four and worked one

“Ted” taking his turn carrying bricks for Chapel construction.

day every two weeks. Towards the end of the Spring Term, with Father Sill and Father Mayo present, the cornerstone was laid. A copy of THE PIGTAIL, a school list, and the names of the boys who worked on the Chapel as well as the contractor and the foreman were put in the cornerstone, which Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Cuyler sealed. The next fall the boys returned to find the Chapel completed.” The boys were proud of their role in the construction, no matter what it was, as Sandy MacPherson, ’37, later remembered, “Usually my job was to push a wheelbarrow. It would be full of sand, or dirt, or bricks, or trash. Sometimes I toted a load of lumber.”

COMMUNITY — Faculty

In addition to an official Chapel, there was another aspect of life for the boys that Mr. Bartlett felt right from the start was critical, and that was the sense of family. He encouraged his young teachers to consider marriage and children, and set the example by marrying Carol Mead as soon as school got out in June of 1925. Carol moved from a comfortable Westchester County, NY, existence to the extremely spartan situation at South Kent. They lived in his small apartment over the common room. There was no kitchen, so she cooked on a one-burner counter-top stove and washed the dishes in the bathtub. She was immediately put to work wherever help was needed, including assisting Martin and his team of horses get the tobacco crop planted. When the babies began to arrive, the apartment was clearly cramped. But there was no other available housing yet, so the school built a curious contraption known as either “The Carbuncle” or “The Incubator.” Their son George later described the Carbuncle: “It was sort of a window-greenhouse kind of thing, and that is where the baby lived. One time on a cold winter night, they put my sister Mary out there with a ham — just to keep the ham cold — and the next day the ham was frozen, but luckily my sister was alive.” Everybody on campus adored that little baby girl, Mary Spaulding Bartlett, so her survival was greatly celebrated. The

Carbuncle was detached and re-installed in other school buildings as more babies were born over the next several decades.

In 1926, Mr. Morehouse brought his bride to campus, and they lived in a small apartment in the recently-constructed New Building. Two summers later, in 1928, Mr. West and Mr. Bagster-Collins were both married, and the Wests moved into the newly acquired Straight House, which had been bought the previous year. Mr. Woodward was married on December 18, 1930, to Elizabeth Hall (one of the two beautiful ladies in that Cadillac in 1925). Carol Bartlett and Betty Woodward, joined in 1934 by Dick Cuyler’s new wife, Ellen Walker, were to become the quintessential surrogate mothers for decades of South Kent students. Much was asked of them, but they could always be depended on to rise to every occasion with grace, kindness, humility and hospitality. In his Fiftieth Anniversary Weekend Address in 1973, Headmaster George Bartlett had this to say about the three women: “Can you imagine the number of cookies and cakes

The “Carbuncle” is visible projecting out of the top right window of the Old Building in the background.

Mary Spaulding Bartlett, survivor of the Carbuncle.

Future Headmaster, George Hodges Bartlett.

Carol Bartlett, Ellen Cuyler and Betty Woodward sitting in front of the Straight House.

these ladies have baked? The number of tea cups they have filled? The number of bruised young spirits they have comforted? Most of all, can you imagine the kind of patience it took to bring up the families all by themselves, while their husbands centered their attentions, night and day, on other people’s children? Ladies, we have taken this all completely for granted… our debt to you is infinite; our gratitude is imperfect but none the less sincere.”

In the summer of 1930, a separate house was built for the Headmaster and his growing family, and the Bagster-Collinses moved into the apartment vacated by the Bartletts. That same year, a small cottage was also built for Fr. Robertson, again with manual labor help from four boys. It was set beyond the Chapel at the brow of the hill looking down over the Straight House, and thus began the expansion of the faculty housing across the combined farm properties, truly knitting the campus together. When Fr. Robertson retired in 1932, Mr. Cameron and his new bride moved into the cottage. These moves were the beginning of a long tradition of faculty housing “musical-chairs” during summer vacations, driven largely by the arrival of new babies and the departure into the adult world by maturing “Faculty Brats,” as the offspring soon became affectionately known.

To round out the atmosphere of family on campus, a nod needs to be given to the Faculty Dogs, who roamed freely around the courtyard, classrooms, dorms, fields and ponds. The early school movies show several dogs, helping or interfering with all sorts of activities, or just resting on the front porch with whoever happened to be sitting on the benches at the time. The very first dog mentioned on campus was Barney, who died in May 1924, according to Mr. Bartlett’s diary. She was found dead on the shores of Hatch Pond, where she presumably was killed as she tried to chase away some intruders that had been breaking into cabins in the woods farther down the lake. The early school movies show several other dogs, including a litter of puppies, and

Benchka, nicknamed “Benny,” on the right, in a classic SKS Faculty Dog stance on the front porch of the Old Building.

COMMUNITY — Staff

Underpinning everything at the School from the very first day was the staff, which at the time consisted of just Miss Dulon and Mr. and Mrs. Martin, plus Mrs. Wortman in the kitchen. Sam relied on them just as heavily as he did Dick Cuyler. Miss Dulon was known to both Sam and Dick, since her brother taught at Kent School. She was a lay nun — an associate of the Order of St. Anne — which explains the sharp eye she kept on the Chapel and how it was operated through a series of chaplains in the first decade. She willingly and cheerfully did whatever was needed, from sweeping and scrubbing floors to planning all the meals. She was even known to cook special birthday dinners for students.

Miss Dulon was a surrogate mother to all of the students, and probably to the early teachers, who were themselves just barely out of college. She also functioned as the school nurse for the first couple of years when there was no nurse and no real infirmary. In the spring of 1925, some of the students tangled with some poison sumac vines while dismantling an old stone wall. To handle the ensuing outbreak of miserable boys, she turned both her room and Fr. Kemmiss’ into a makeshift infirmary and tended to them until they recovered. She also befriended a rather tragic neighbor of the School — Florence Maybrick, the convicted (but pardoned) murderess known locally as Mrs. Chandler. Miss Dulon made sure that the boys paid regular visits to the impoverished old lady down the road, bringing her food and supplies, and carrying in her firewood — a lesson in love and compassion that they never forgot. Perhaps Miss Dulon’s most visible accomplishment was her committee known as the Gardeners who enthusiastically kept the school grounds not only neat and tidy but also full of a wide variety of flowers. The committee did not continue after her death, but the custom of having blooming gardens was kept going by Martin as best he could.

Martin’s dog Benchka (“Benny”) sitting in his lap. We will meet other legendary South Kent dogs in the following chapters.

Simpson and Bogert recovering from sumac poisoning.

Miss Dulon died on June 3, 1933, in New York City, where she had been hospitalized with cancer. Her body was brought back to South Kent, and the school bell tolled for her as the hearse made its way up the drive. At some point in the 1990s, Sandy McPherson, Senior Prefect of the Class of 1937, wrote down his very clear memories of her passing so many years before: “Clara Dulon became ill during the ’32-’33 year. She was sent to New York City for diagnosis, and remained for an operation. Mr. Bartlett kept us up to date on Miss Dulon’s progress, during our morning assemblies. After a few weeks, he reported that the doctors said the case was hopeless, and about a week later, he announced that she had died. When she passed on, her body was brought back to South Kent in a gray casket. It was placed down in the old Chapel in the basement, near the altar. The faculty, wives and friends were in and out of the place all day arranging flowers and doing everything they could to make things nice. The students went about their business, classes, sports, activities, jobs and routines. They all knew that Miss Dulon was lying in a closed casket, down in the Chapel, but they were working according to schedule. However, Mr. Bartlett announced that a “watch” at night would be held for Miss Dulon in the Chapel. A list was posted for volunteers to sign up, two boys at a time, at one-half hour intervals during the night to sit with Miss Dulon. I signed up and was posted for 2:AM with a boy named Beers. I was 13 and Beers was 14. My alarm went off. I pulled on some clothes and joined Beers. The building was pitch black. We creaked our way down the stairs and across hallways to the Chapel. It was all lit up with candles. Two boys were waiting

for us and they silently made off. Beers and I genuflected our way into a pew. We couldn’t take our eyes off that coffin. So we sat there with Miss Dulon, guarding her and being near her. For one half hour of our young lives, Beers and I were doing something very adult and very important. We were keeping watch. The next day, funeral services were held in the little Chapel in the basement, and then Miss Dulon was buried on the hillside next to where the new Chapel was being built.” It was the first major loss for the tight-knit South Kent family, but it must have been a comfort to all to have her there with them, right by the new Chapel building that meant so much to her.

Mr. and Mrs. Martin were equally devoted to the school grounds and to the boys themselves. The always-smiling Louise did the laundry in the beginning, and worked in the kitchen with the students who were lucky enough to get kitchen duty, while Martin kept the old farm thriving. Sam’s decision to go along with that effort may have been one of the wisest he made. Before the first decade was out, the Stock Market crashed, but South Kent was well supplied with its own food which could be harvested with “Boy Power,” and so the school barely skipped a beat. From the beginning, Martin was everywhere, often with his trusted teams of horses, first Susie and Helen, and then Frank and Katy.

Martin’s biggest contribution to South Kent School is legendary, and without it, the School could not possibly be what it is today. In 1927, the adjoining Straight farm came on the market. Sam had never forgotten it since the day that he and Fr. Sill had come to South Kent to look at prospective locations for the school. He remembered the orchard, the barns, the brook, the fields, but did not have the money to buy it. The asking price was $10,000, a great deal of money for the fledging school. Martin came to him and said that he thought the School ought to buy it. He had lived there previously when he was a farm hand for Miss Helen Straight, the owner who had just passed away, so he knew this second farm intimately as well. Sam said the School couldn’t afford it. Martin calmly replied that he had $10,000 and he wanted to lend it to the School to buy the farm. With that very generous gesture,

Early Boy Power at work with Martin, Susie, and Helen.

The Straight House before alterations and additions.

the size of the campus doubled, with new faculty housing, plenty of ground for new athletic fields, and several barns, one of which could store the School’s tobacco crops. That barn would later become famous as “The Playhouse,” home to some extraordinary SKS dramatic productions and hilarious Halloween skits.

There was nothing about the farmland that he didn’t know, including the various temperamental springs upon which the school depended for drinking water. That knowledge was frequently put to the test until finally in the fall of 1928 a large water tank was installed up on top of the hill connected to a 15-horsepower pump down at the lake. The next year, an emergency arose with the new water system, and Martin again came to the rescue. Alexander Hamilton was at the time Manager of the Pump at Hatch Pond. His job was to keep the big water tank at the top of the hill full. He later described the scare: “All of a sudden one Monday morning there was no water. Of course, I was looked at very dimly and somebody checked the lake I guess, and the valve was properly closed. Then they got Martin. He knew the countryside here, and he got a crowbar and went walking south of the New Building toward the Straight House and all of a sudden he went to his knees. The pipe had broken and drained 35,000 gallons out underground without anyone seeing the water. Of course, all they had to do was close the valve, take care of the broken pipe, start the pump, and we had water in an hour or so.” Martin had saved the day again, and would continue to do so until he and Louise retired in 1958.

Martin was also responsible for the arrival in 1930 of another long-time loyal staff member, his family friend from the Old Country - Victor Deak. The young man was from Martin’s hometown in Czechoslovakia, where he was prone to getting into trouble. His mother contacted Martin to see if he could find a job for her wayward son. Martin pitched the idea to Sam, saying that they’d have to meet the boat in New York and bring the 18-year-old Victor straight to South Kent, lest he find his way into the big city and get into even more trouble. Sam agreed, so Martin made the trip to the docks, and brought back a devoted hard-working assistant who would leave his own mark on campus in many ways. Victor worked on the farm as long as the School kept it going, and then shifted his attention to the grounds around the school buildings, mowing the grass, planting trees, building bird houses and doing whatever else he felt was needed to keep the place beautiful. As had Miss Dulon, he especially loved flowers, and planted them everywhere, including the famous “Kiss Me Over the Fence” that he delighted in putting behind the split rails along the walk up to the New Building.

The staff position of cook proved to be a challenging one to fill. Theresa Wortman was hired in the very beginning, but by the third year, she had been replaced by Mrs. Namit, who in turn left in rather short order. Comments in the early Pigtails suggest that she had not enjoyed trying to feed the hoard of hungry teenagers, and they had not enjoyed her fare. They were happy to see her go. The “Early Days” column in the Pigtail had this description of one turnover: “It was during this Winter

Term that the great Amberg arrived to take over his duties in the kitchen following the departure of Mrs. Namit. He was a fabulous character and in due time featured in many of the now old legends of the hill.”

Few of the legends have survived the ages, but there is one worth relaying because it describes not only the character of Mr. Amberg, but also the total involvement of the entire school community in producing the precious tobacco crop. Again from “Early Days,” about the summer of 1926: “The tobacco crop was tended early and often that summer and there was a great friendly rivalry between Martin and Chef Amberg who was doubling on the farm that summer. He was a tremendous man of great strength but he was not quite on to all the ways of farm life and as a result Martin would win most of the battles. When it came time to cut the tobacco there would be an unannounced race between Martin and Amberg, and Martin with slow steady strokes would always best the heaving Amberg who would use up most of his strength with unnecessary motions… While the tobacco was being stowed away in the barn Martin would usually be at the top of the barn taking the great shocks of tobacco from Amberg who would lift them up while standing up on the wagon. Frequently while Amberg was precariously situated Martin would give a slight cluck with his lips and the horses would start out usually depositing Amberg on the barn floor. All hands turned to help with the crop and even the ladies took their tour of duty.”

Chef Amberg left some time the next year, and was replaced by “Uncle Charlie” Taylor, who stayed for the rest of the first decade. Taylor’s skill in the kitchen was greatly appreciated by the boys, with several references to the details of his Thanksgiving dinners being made in the Pigtail. He was from England and liked to try out oddly-named English dishes on his captive diners. Like Amberg, Taylor took part in community efforts at School, most notably in a project to raise money by making ginger beer, another English staple. He wanted to buy a set of pewter plates for the dining room, and figured that if everyone on campus chipped in to help make ginger beer, it could be sold for a tidy profit. The faculty families were all given the ingredients and instructions, and some of their resulting ginger beer turned out to have a rather high alcohol content. Some bottles blew up, and others were enjoyed even by the boys who got their hands on a gallon or two. It was a successful venture, financially, and Uncle Charlie’s pewter collection was displayed in the dining room for decades, though it is now stored away.

Martin, Vic Deak and boys bringing in the tobacco crop, with one of the Bartlett babies.

South Kent also went through a number of nurses in the early days. Miss Dulon had keen nursing instincts, but she had no official medical training. The school needed a skilled nurse on campus and so, in 1925, hired Miss B. L. Dickinson to care for sick boys in the Infirmary which had just been established on the second floor of the main building. She was succeeded the next year by Miss Stanis Hoyne, who stayed for only two or three more years before leaving. By 1929, the Infirmary had been dubbed “Little America,” most likely a reference to the Antarctic base camp established with the same name that year by Admiral Robert Byrd. It suggests a rather remote and chilly environment, and no doubt was not the most comfortable place for sick boys or their nurse to be. Mrs. James was next in the short list of early nurses, and the last to preside over Little America. She apparently gave it her best effort, but for the sake of the School, it is good that she decided to move on, because the woman who replaced her in 1930, Amy Lyon, became another of South Kent’s revered figures in the lives of the students, the faculty and the rest of the staff for decades to come. Mrs. Lyon was from Scotland, where she had been designated a “Queen’s Nurse,” in recognition of her dedication to the highest standards of nursing practice. Her signature official blue cloak, with its red lining and a Queen’s Nurse pin on the collar, was the only outward indication that this tiny, modest, but tough woman was something truly special. Mrs. Lyon arrived the same year that a new infirmary was built, with nurse’s quarters adjacent to the infirmary room. She quickly established herself as a force to be reckoned with, fiercely protective of her patients, who did her bidding with no questions asked… ever. She was famous for her tea and home-made Scottish scones, served with proper formality in her tidy quarters, and later in the equally tidy little cottage built for her right next to the Infirmary.

The final lady to join the South Kent staff was Miss Christine Bull, who came at the very end of the decade to take over the business management duties vacated by Stan Goodwin when he retired at the end of the 1931 school year. As the school grew, Miss Bull kept a keen eye on the business dealings and developments on the Hill, eventually being joined by many other ladies fulfilling secretarial and management duties.

The ever-cheerful Miss Bull.

Last but not least in the line of hardworking staff members for at least the first decade of South Kent are the horses! Martin’s old team of Susie and Helen worked valiantly for three years, doing everything

from plowing fields to scraping the ice on Hatch Pond for the hockey rink. Upon their retirement in the spring of 1927, they were replaced by Frank and Katy, a pair of huge black Percherons, who stood so tall that the top of the frame of the barn door had to be cut away to allow them to enter. Eventually, more gas-powered assistants were acquired, but Frank and Katy, then Nellie and Bessie, and finally Prince and Princess, continued to be Martin’s preferred help until he and the last team retired in 1958.

COMMUNITY — Student Government

By the fall of 1925, the school had grown to the point of having boys in the Second through Fifth Forms. It was time for the faculty to plan to hand over much of the leadership in running the school. In the spring of 1926, a full Student Council was appointed. It consisted of a Senior Prefect and three other Prefects from the rising Sixth Form, as well as two members of the rising Fifth and Fourth Forms. Also appointed were the Inspectors of the Main Building, the Dining Room and the Infirmary; a Superintendent of Plants and Structures; a Manager of Cooperative Stores; a Manager of Rolling Stock and a Manager of the Water Pump. The Council took care of all the routine daily activity, including study periods, job assemblies, bells, inspections, discipline and lights out. This gave the young men significant power, but they could be reined in by the Headmaster when needed. The students themselves were aware of the challenges of wielding such power. A thoughtful Pigtail editor mused, “This school has run, is run, and will continue to be run along independent ideas of responsibility and self-government. What then happens, if one of these self-governing boys puts a friend before his first obligation to the school, there is a fall which affects first the individuals concerned and ultimately the school itself.”

By 1931, each class chose its president for each year, to augment the Council. The Editor of the Pigtail that fall wrote, “The election of form presidents and council members is a vital part in the self-government organization of the school. This school, like its predecessor, Kent, is based on ideals of self-reliance which are most substantially attained by this movement.” Fr. Sill expressed in a letter to Sam that both schools needed to “knock out a sense of entitlement to privileges just

The 1927 Student Council with Senior Prefect Pete Newhall front center.

because they are sixth formers. Their one privilege must be to serve the school community. A good Sixth Form means a good school.” He also stressed that there needed to be a strong friendly relationship between Headmaster and Sixth Form, and suggested regular Sixth Form teas as a tool for achieving that goal. Those teas with Mr. Bartlett are mentioned by graduating class after class as a truly wonderful experience.

All but the most egregious instances of misbehavior were handled by the Sixth Form. Official punishment ranged from the issuance of a specific number of hours of manual labor to actual paddling with a wooden paddle. Though this latter practice is looked upon with horror today, and is illegal in most of the United States, in the first half of the twentieth century it was very common. Because schools were considered by common-law to be “in loco parentis,” paddling was considered a fair and rational form of discipline5. A variety of tools were acceptable, with the wooden paddle being the most benign. Hand-spanking did exist but was much less common. In fact, Sam wrote in his diary that he was not in favor of spanking. He did not note any objection to paddling, which suggests that his views on that subject were in keeping with the relatively widespread acceptance in his day. There is frequent mention in many yearbook class histories of paddling, always related in a matter-of-fact way that makes it clear that it was common practice. The 1934 Class History has a humorous take on one misadventure involving several of their class, early in their Second Form year, ganging up on one unfortunate boy: “The second day here, we persuaded him to chin himself on the chapel bell rope with disastrous results both to the peace of the countryside and to the seat of Chapman’s pants.” The last paddling at South Kent occurred in the fall of 1943, and its recipient, Ralph Woodward, ’47, described it thus: “Paddling was administered with a foot-long wooden paddle. Two solid strokes (not very painful) were applied to my bent-over buttocks…the punishment was regarded by me and my dormmates as a badge of honor.” But the latter part of the twentieth century brought change to boarding school discipline as medical, pediatric and psychological research showed that paddling produced little benefit and possibly caused lasting damage. Shockingly, it took until 1977 for the U.S. Supreme Court to address the issue, and now the laws regarding corporal punishment are set by individual states, with all but a few having outlawed it.

At South Kent, not all discipline involved such drastic measures. The “stinging” of hours of manual labor was accepted and respected by the boys. One of them wrote in the Pigtail in 1929, “One of our many blessings at South Kent for which we might consider ourselves fortunate is the hour system for correction. An hour like a demerit (the prevailing form at present) is a form of punishment for any offense, from being late or tardy at an assembly, to fooling in study hall. The material difference, however, is that a demerit is merely placed in record against a boy’s name and if too many of these marks pile up, he is forced to leave the school. Whereas the hour means that the boy having one must do some constructive bit of work towards the welfare of the school, and this task

is assigned by a student of the graduating class who has absolute charge in this department…After this chore is finished to the satisfaction of the upper former, the slate is clean.”

Sometimes the Headmaster carried out the punishment. In one instance, several boys had gone skating without permission, breaking a cardinal safety rule, so he made them sit in the school room for four hours to think about it. Another time, some miscreants were put to the task of washing all the windows on the first floor of the building. He regularly reacted to slug-a-beds, who refused to honor the rising bell, by running through the dorm flipping their beds over, dumping them abruptly on the floor.

He also, on very rare occasions, convened a “Who-dun-it” if some misdemeanor had occurred and the identity of the guilty party was not known. The whole school was summoned to the school room, where they were required to sit with hands clasped on desks, waiting for someone to confess. Charles Marvin, ’31, remembered the events clearly, saying that the boys “sat, silent and motionless, until the guilty party broke down. They were evidently counting on underground knowledge and peer pressure to do the trick. After a couple of squirming hours of this, it was not uncommon for several students, independently of each other, to rise simultaneously and ‘confess’.” Ralph Woodward later wrote, “More often than not this worked, but if, eventually, the Who-Dun-it was called off without a result everybody felt the burden of disappointment and failure and guilt. There was a skunk (no hero) among us.”

In general, however, the responsibility of discipline was solely that of the Sixth Form, with the goal of teaching them the responsible leadership that was an essential part of their South Kent education, as it still is today.

COMMUNITY — Jobs

The Job System was a critically important part of teaching the boys community spirit and responsibility. By carrying out daily assigned chores, some by nature menial or distasteful, they learned that their own individual performance was critical to the success of the whole school. At no time in their lives would everything always go the way they wanted it to, so they might as well pitch in with their heads held high to do whatever was needed to help their community.

In July of 1927, a reporter from the venerable Hartford Courant came to interview Miss Dulon for an article about the self-help The

daily trash run job.

system at Kent and South Kent. That reporter was clearly smitten with her, for he titled the section “The House Mother with the Happy Laugh.” The article continues, “The door was opened by the pleasantest little woman in the world with such a happy laugh that we wickedly desired to ask as many questions as possible to hear her talk…The housework jobs, Miss Dulon explained, are classified into skilled and unskilled labor. Dishwashing, if you please, is skilled labor and a favorite. It calls for an hour all at once. When you have washed your last dish or hung up your towel you are through for the day. Unskilled labor demands half an hour both morning and night. You find where you are as to jobs bright and early in the morning by consulting the bulletin posted by the head prefect. There you find your name with a number opposite. Get your number and you have your job…All the housework that the boys do has been analyzed into units that can be done in an hour or half hour.”6

Popular jobs included that dishwashing spot, called by one Pigtail writer, “the most choice job… an honorable school office.” The menial jobs were given to the younger boys, and almost everyone looked forward to building the skills that might land him on the dishwash crew or working in the laundry. Alexander Hamilton said in an interview many years later, “I came here as a very immature child and became a fairly adequate teenager with an increasing sense of responsibility…By my Fifth Form, I ran the Laundry. The Laundry was sorted here because it was cheaper, and then sent to the Danbury and Troy Laundry (also known as The Destroy). When it was returned it was sorted and put under the name of the individual student. Everyone got a towel on Wednesdays and Saturdays and got a clean sheet on Saturday. You were supposed to turn in your dirty ones. The School owned the sheets and towels.”

Fr. Sill encouraged Sam to be honest with the boys about the School’s finances and how much their hard work was needed, saying that it would teach them self-respect and self-reliance, and keep all boys on the same level. “In luxury-loving and easy-going days, it seems to me that we are on the right track in giving our boys the chance to share in a life which is robust, healthy, simple,

Boys with shovels taking a break from a very muddy project, earning self-respect.

virile, common sense and wholesome, and I think that the typical American boy deserves the chance.” Sensible advice for a new headmaster starting a school during what would come to be called The Roaring Twenties!

In addition to the official daily jobs, there were work projects carried out by the schoolboys. Miss Dulon quickly realized that there were some who were not interested in athletics, so she gathered them into a group called the Gardeners. Together, they set to work cleaning up the last detritus from the Judd farm operations, planting flowers and turning a chicken coop into a beautiful flower garden (near where today’s kitchen is), with a trellis and chairs for relaxing. Their mission was to make sure that the campus always looked attractive. They raised money to buy their tools and supplies, and became so financially adept that they were able to buy a “motion picture machine” with which to entertain their schoolmates on weekends. The Gardeners became indispensable to the community, with the 1930 yearbook noting that “they have made paths, laid flagstones, sodded bare ground, made roads, planted trees, emptied the ashes and, in short, cleaned up for us for seven years.”

There were other special work projects carried out by more than just the Gardeners. In February, 1928, Martin corralled a number of boys to go down to Hatch Pond, where an enormous new ice house had been built on the opposite shore to store big blocks of ice, cut from the frozen lake to be shipped south to New York City. Martin taught the boys how to cut the blocks and load them onto a sleigh which was dragged by the two new school horses, Frank and Katy, up to the School’s ice house on campus. Two less-pleasant but necessary jobs were done annually when the local train delivered a car-load of either manure in the spring for the farm fields or coal in the fall for the furnaces. All hands turned out to shovel the dirty contents into the wagons that were hauled up the hill by Frank and Katy or by the old Ford truck. The early school movies show the boys, caked with muddy clay, digging ditches to drain the future athletic fields and planting potatoes by the bushel. They also helped to harvest the important cash crop of tobacco each fall until the school discontinued the tobacco growing. There wasn’t much that they didn’t learn how to do.

The biggest Boy Power accomplishment was the building of the new entrance road in the winter of 1926/27, under the supervision of the Gardeners. Two stone walls were torn down, and the rocks

smashed to bits with sledgehammers, to which the boys quickly gave names such as “Leavenworth Special,” “Sing Sing Sport Model,” “Gerald Chapman Autograph” and more. The crushed rock formed the base of the road that is now the formal entrance to the school by the Headmaster’s house. Work “holidays” became a tradition that lasted for many more decades, with the Headmaster announcing that the boys would be given a day off from classes in order to carry out some necessary major project.

In discussing the slack period between the end of football season and Christmas vacation in 1931, the Pigtail editors wrote about the value of doing tasks around campus instead of lolling about on useless November afternoons. “This year, several groups of boys have spent the afternoons doing various jobs which are usually done on those only too-infrequent work holidays. The stone wall has been removed from the place where the chapel is to be situated. The dining room floor has been scrubbed by fifth form according to tradition and all the ‘public’ windows have been washed. All this work has been done by the boys whose labor has certainly become an integral part of the school life. So let us be up and doing, let us find something to occupy our minds; let us do something constructive each afternoon while November behaves like November.”

Pitching in with pride to help shovel the manure that would be hauled up to campus by Martin and his horses. “Servants, well done.”

The train car loaded with manure for the farm fields has arrived!

Somewhere along the line, the Sixth Form began the custom of returning to campus early each fall to clean up after the long summer absence and make sure that everything was ship-shape for the arrival of their younger charges. It was a chore which they took very seriously. The final verse of South Kent’s unofficial hymn says it all, “Come, labor on. No time for rest till glows the western sky, till the long shadows o’er our pathway lie and a glad sound comes with the setting sun: Servants, well done.” Those last three words are still received with a lump in throat and a feeling of communal pride by students at South Kent today - truly the watchword of the School.

COMMUNITY — Extra Curricular

There wasn’t much spare time in the first years, so extra-curricular activities were few and far between, aside from the Saturday night movies sporadically provided by the Gardeners. But after about five years, things began to change. Several boys were keenly missing music, which was not yet part of the academic curriculum, so at some point an informal singing group was formed, meeting in Fr. Kemmiss’ room. They were officially recognized as the Glee Club by the end of the 1929 school year, but did not survive for long after that. A band of sorts was gathered, featuring a saxophone and a couple of banjos, in the winter of 1926/27. In the spring of 1928, the Fourth Form organized a hamburger and hotdog roast on the shores of Hatch Pond at which “large quantities of hamburger, steak, hot dogs, ice cream, iced tea and marshmallows were consumed. The boys in that Form attended classes as usual the next day,” according to the Pigtail. The paper also reported on other informal activities, such as the organizing of the school library, which previously had been neither catalogued nor supervised, and the contributions by the boys and faculty of $115 to a fund to help a family on the other side of Hatch Pond rebuild their house after a fire. Another time, they actually went to help extinguish a fire on Leonard Pond just north of Hatch Pond. A front-page article of the Pigtail described in detail the two-day ordeal that involved all of the students walking over the hill to Leonard Pond to fight the fire. The School received a check from the State of Connecticut in thanks for the dedicated Boy Power.

An interesting new Saturday night activity began in the fall of 1929, when Mr. Bartlett reintroduced the Kent School program of Public Speaking, which had been practiced off and on at South Kent in the first two years. The Pigtail reporter wrote, “The two reasons which Mr. Bartlett gave for this innovation, which we think is very good, were, first, that it will give an opportunity to every boy in school to speak before a group of people, which is an excellent experience, and, secondly, that it will offer welcome relief from the weekly movies.” The article

goes on to list the wide variety of subjects chosen by the boys in the first two sessions, and closes by noting, “None of these speeches were marvels of rhetoric, yet on the average they were by no means bad, all things considered. They at least afford interesting examples of what the average fellow is capable of in this activity, and we look for improvement with experience.”

But in 1933, Mr. Eschmann, who had donated the first movie projector, gave the school a new “talking movie machine,” a DeVry portable projector, which allowed for the screening of the new movie format. The first movie shown was “Phantom Express,” and the students all agreed that it was a great step forward, since the movie was only a year old. They also were able to see sports reels such as the Notre Dame — Southern California football game, and current news events. One Saturday they even watched all eight reels of the first Sherlock Holmes talking picture. From then on, Movie Night and Public Speaking were in fierce competition for best Saturday night entertainment.

By far the earliest and most significant extra-curricular activity was the Pigtail itself. It began in February of 1927, when two enterprising third formers, Tudor Owen and Russell Engs, pounded out the first issue of the South Kent Journal on typewriters propped up on their bureaus. They continued this laborious effort for one more issue, at which point they had made enough of a good impression on the South Kent community that a proper second-hand press was donated and the name of the paper changed to the Pigtail. They reported on athletic games, upcoming movies and even faculty activities: “Arrayed in the best that Sears and Roebuck can offer, Mr. Woodward and Mr. Buzz [Cuyler] left school for the weekend in Mr. Woodward’s Ford.” The young editors even offered advertisements such as this one from students, James Braden and Durand Echeverria: “Do you wake up in a cold room? Now if you live in the Old Building and like a warm room, Pussy Foot Johnson, alias James Braden, does the rooms. For one cent a week he will shut your window in silence. All rights reserved. Braden & Echeverria, Inc.” Within another year, a new press had been purchased and the staff increased to seven boys, partly due to the suggestion by Mr. Bartlett that they put a note on the bulletin board asking for “Heelers” to try out for positions on the Pigtail board. He also offered advice on how to make the paper financially self-sufficient. They actively solicited

The first issue of the South Kent Journal features a description of the SKS-Canterbury hockey game; the arrival of the new movie projector, a boy in the infirmary with chicken pox; and a blank space that says, “THIS SPACE IS RESERVED FOR EMPTINESS…..” The young editors would quickly learn how to fill every column inch.

subscriptions and were generally able to keep a small amount of money in the Pigtail’s coffers.

By the fall of 1929, the entrepreneurial James Braden was the Business Manager and Durand Echeverria an Associate Editor. Braden wrote an article about the use of the slogan, “Pigtail Against the World, the World Against Pigtail,” on the paper’s masthead. That slogan had been painted on the side of Fred Chase’s creamery barn next to the South Kent railroad depot. There was disagreement within the school about the use of a name that legend said arose from a fight between two farmers in the nearby hamlet about their pigs. Braden noted that the name was unique and that they hoped that the paper would be unique as well. They did not claim to be a true news or literary paper, but rather a medium for student opinions and observations. They were proud of the fact that it was a completely student-run publication and looked forward to its continued existence and improvement. Discussion about the name arose again several years later, when it was briefly changed to the South Kent Record, but the School’s strong belief in traditions eventually won out and the name was changed back to the Pigtail, which it proudly remains to this day.

Alexander Hamilton noted that the press was set up in the corner of Classroom B in the Old Building at first and then moved up to the New Building. Once the paper was written, it was mailed to a printing company in New Milford, where it was set up in sticks of Linotype. Mr. Bartlett gave him the fare to take the morning train to New Milford to collect the Linotype and return with it on the afternoon train to school where the boys printed it themselves. In the spring of 1931, a Fourth Form classmate of Hamilton’s, Lester Wittenberg, joined the Pigtail board as Assistant Business Manager. “Wuz” as he would forever be known by everyone, went to Yale after South Kent, and then immediately returned to join the faculty in 1938 to teach English. He stayed involved with the Pigtail and other publications for the rest of his life, becoming one of the most beloved figures at the school. A conscientious accounting of SKS history from the students’ perspective, the Pigtail is an invaluable resource for anyone wishing to understand the unique institution that is South Kent School.

COMMUNITY — Traditions

Traditions have always been an important part of community life at South Kent, as they had been at Kent for Sam Bartlett and Dick Cuyler. Several were established that first fall, at least two of which continue today. The first one was a Halloween costume party with food and games. Little is known about it other than that “youthful ingenuity contrived some crazy-looking rigs,” according to the 1927 class history. Within a few years, the faculty were judging the costumes while the Sixth Form passed around trays of doughnuts and pitchers of cider. Large chocolate cakes were awarded for best costumes, while another contest in bobbing for apples pitted two teams of boys against one another. “The winners were to be allowed on some future date an extra hour’s sleep and the losers were to bring them breakfast, sweep their rooms and make their beds,” according to a 1929 Pigtail description.

The second tradition begun in 1923 was Thanksgiving dinner at the School. There was no vacation for the boys, but they were encouraged to invite family members to come for a feast on campus. According to Mr. Bartlett’s diary, the first one was a great success, with 52 people seated in the dining room and two of the boys “serving most loyally in the pantry.” Miss Dulon, of course, made sure that nothing went wrong. After dinner, the football insignia of numerals were awarded and families were encouraged to walk around the grounds. By 1929, the size of the crowd had swelled to 150 people, well beyond the usual 75 that were fed by the kitchen on a regular school day. Tables were set up in the reception room, the library, the old office and the common room. Over the years, the large crowd continued to challenge the boys and staff, but the tradition was dearly loved and observed for a long time, until it was decided that the boys should have the chance to go home and relax with their families for a few days instead.

The third tradition is perhaps the most important one of all. The night before the boys went home for Christmas vacation in 1923, the first Nativity Play was held in the diningroom. Miss Dulon and Fr. Whittemore had conceived the idea, and the whole school was proud that it was NOT an inherited Kent School tradition. Because this revered event is still an important one at SKS today, it is worth reading a description of the earliest performances, as told in a December, 1929, issue of the Pigtail. In 1923, “Pete Newhall played the part of Mary, Joe Woodward was Joseph, Sam Colt

Miss Dulon, Fr. Kemmis and students, perhaps planning an early Nativity Play.

the angel and Gustafson [was] Zacharias. The stage was at the end of the dining room, and there was no organ, so that all the singing was by ear, and like all things of the first year, it was rather crude. Yet as a pioneer effort it was very successful. The third year the stage was made in the new schoolroom in the recently added new wing, and it has been held there ever since. The schoolroom was decorated with evergreens and dimly lit with candles…All the acting was in pantomime. The various scenes of the Birth of Christ were represented in accompaniment to the reading of the story from the Bible. Between the different acts there was singing of Christmas carols and hymns by the whole school.”

The first Prize Day was held in the spring of 1924, with a format of speeches and awards that has continued ever since. 1927 was the first year that there was a Sixth Form graduating class, at which point Robert deCoppett, Robert “Pete” Newhall, Louis Ward and Joseph Woodward became the first official Alumni of South Kent School. Pete would go on to become the first Alumni Trustee. Their accomplishments while they were students were listed along with their names and photographs in the school’s first yearbook, published at the time of their graduation. The South Kent diploma was, and still is, very special. Jim Carpenter, ’36, remembered many years later the moment on Prize Day that he looked at his: “I found it to be not the regular printed type with merely my name

The first Prize Day, with Fr. Sill presiding. There were no graduating students, only Second and Third Formers who nonetheless were given prizes as their proud parents looked on.

Pete Newhall, the first Senior Prefect and the first alumnus to later join the Board of Trustees.

engraved, but a short, concise declaration of my having completed the course of study and am now a graduate of South Kent School. It was written by the Old Man, and ended with a personal sentence to me by him. I think that one of the most appropriate ways of finishing this school. The usual type of diploma would not have fitted in with what the School stands for.” The tradition of the personal note from the Head of School on each diploma continues today.

A long-standing tradition came in the form of an “astounding” surprise announcement by Mr. Bartlett at lunchtime on April 13, 1929. He had made arrangements with Wykeham Rise, a girls’ school in nearby Washington, CT, for a dinner-dance for the Fifth and Sixth Forms. The Pigtail described what happened next: “All those who were interested in going were told to report in Classroom C for a special aptitude test! There amidst much interruption and hilarity, an entirely facetious and impossible test was offered to the candidates. The questions compiled by Mr. Cuyler and Mr. Cameron, representatives of the haute monde, were such that at first they were taken half seriously. But not for long; they went from bad to worse, and we left fully aware of our social incompetency.” Ultimately five boys were chosen and they frantically combed the campus for the best in suitable dance attire. The evening was a success, and from then on, the Wykeham Rise dance was the highlight of the otherwise non-existent social season for the boys. Eventually, other girls’ schools would be added to the schedule, and legend has it that more than a few SKS boys met their future wives that way.

A formal Fathers-Weekend custom was inaugurated by Mr. Bartlett in the spring of 1929. He invited all the boys’ fathers to spend a May weekend at school discussing with him various aspects of the school’s affairs as well as seeing what was involved in the daily lives of their sons. The fathers slept in the dorms, while the boys had to find berths elsewhere around campus. Again, an enlightening description in the Pigtail: “Last year because of a scarcity of beds, several of the boys elected to sleep in the common room. One or two were even heard to offer to spend the night in the hayloft of the horse barn, though, as far as we can remember, the next morning found those generous souls sleeping securely on the floor of the closet of the third floor in the New Building. The new infirmary will take care of any bedless wanderers this year and it is extremely doubtful that the horses will again be threatened by uninvited guests.”

Along the way, several casual traditions were developed, including weekly teas for the Sixth Form and card night for the Fifth Form at Mr. Bartlett’s house. The boys eagerly anticipated his regular invitation to those gatherings. They also created some for themselves, such as the individual form picnics at Hatch Pond like the one the Fourth Form had done. The annual Topsy-Turvey dinner, at which the masters waited on the tables while the boys consumed large quantities of food chosen by a complex lottery system, was held for several years. Some lasted, some didn’t, new ones were created and one thing remains constant — South Kent likes its traditions!

ATHLETICS

The founders of both Kent and South Kent understood the importance of athletics in the overall development of young boys, but Fr. Sill had diverged from some of the practices common at the time. He wrote to Sam in one of his early letters, “I hate the system in vogue in some schools of handing out athletic scholarships… I have seen boys playing against our teams whom we could have had at Kent if we so desired. I do not think athletic scholars amount to much anyhow. We can build up teams with better spirit without them…I do not believe that participation in sports should be made compulsory. There are always boys who have more fun looking in from the sidelines or in roaming around the country, or even in browsing about in the library while the others are at games. You must keep an eye on such boys just to see that they get some fresh air, but do not force them into football clothes.” Sam completely agreed, and while he encouraged all the boys to try a sport each season, he and Miss Dulon provided other fresh air outlets for them as well. He often led hikes around the School’s boundaries, and even organized a complex outdoor day-long scavenger hunt one year when scarlet fever hit the campus, in an effort to keep the well boys safe and healthy.

Even though there were no athletic fields of any sort at first, football practice began right away, in the front yard (today’s visitor parking area). The early school movies show Mr. Bartlett enthusiastically demonstrating sliding techniques for budding baseball players who gathered around in awe to watch their Headmaster as he gleefully and expertly threw himself to the ground. It was clear, however, that baseball practice so very close to the glass windows of the school building was not a wise idea. The only other reasonably flat area was the old apple orchard below what is now the Field House dorm. “Right field was over a stone wall, and the first base was a well, but the players didn’t seem to mind it all,” according to a later Pigtail article. Still, development of proper playing fields was clearly a necessity.

The goal was to have fields for football, baseball and tennis, while hockey would take place on the lake. There was an attempt in the spring of 1923 to make a tennis court somewhere on the side of the hill, but that idea was abandoned when it was discovered that a considerable amount of dynamite would be needed. Tennis was temporarily put on the back burner, while attention turned to finding a location for a football field. There was a boggy meadow north of the school building that was deemed a possibility (just beyond today’s gymnasium). Ditches were dug by Boy Power, which helped

to drain off some of the water, and for two or three years, practice was held there, often in an annoying layer of mud. But work began in earnest as soon as school got out in the spring of 1927. Frank and Katy, under the expert guiding hand of Martin, leveled and graded the hillside into a large flat playing area, with a sloped bank and stone steps on one side. When cold weather came, the School experimented with flooding the area for a temporary hockey rink on land.

Alexander Hamilton, who had entered SKS in the fall of 1928, recounted the efforts to get the athletic grounds ready: “Kids like myself that certainly were not football material were managers. I learned very well how to put the white lines on the field…I remember putting the original lines on the field and somebody had a transitI think West, probably - and laid the whole thing out with the Old Man. It was built across the pipe that went to the lake, that was already there. Having that in didn’t tear up the football field, though it sagged a bit and had to be filled in somewhat. We tried having a hockey rink on that field, but it became apparent, at least within a year or two, that water ran downhill very freely onto the field. Even just the sagging of the earth as it settled, made a drop of something like six inches from one side of the playing field to the other, which wasn’t awfully good for having hockey games or even keeping ice to stay there.”

Meanwhile, the School had acquired even more space for playing fields with the purchase of the Straight farm. The flat ground now known as Farr Field was immediately invaded by avid young golfers, who set up tees with old tin cans and had a fine time playing until they were ejected in order to have the area prepared as a baseball and football field. That took some serious work, and there were moments of great drama, described in gleeful detail in the May 28, 1928, Pigtail: “Shortly after lunch there was a terrific boom and everyone rushed to the nearest window, just in time to see the earth falling from a large blast down at the new field. This proved to be the first of a long line of explosions, going off at regular intervals for several days…Wild stories somehow became born about the school in regards to the number of sticks used in the various blasts, and the numbers seemed to square and cube themselves at each change of hands. One stone, about

The finished field.

A fuzzy image showing the rocks, ditches and grading challenges encountered during construction of the athletic field north of the Old Building.

the size of a person’s fist, landing in front of the Second Form room, caused untold excitement… It might be well to add that this work will consist of a football field for the Kids and a first and Kid team diamond.”

Finally, by the fall of 1927, South Kent School was ready to have some proper sports competitions. The first crew shell arrived in 1929, and the School settled into a long tradition of football in the fall, hockey in the winter and baseball, tennis and crew in the spring. Occasionally, soccer, golf and skiing would be explored, but none ever lasted for long, though soccer did officially function as a gap sport between the football and hockey seasons in the fall of 1934. The school was too small to have any more than these basic five sports until the fall of 1971, when soccer officially stuck its foot into the fall sports lineup, and athletic diversity began.

FOOTBALL

For the first few years, all games were played “away” because of the lack of proper playing fields, but the boys still managed some impressive records. The faculty all coached as best they could, with Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Dick Cuyler (the best athletes on the faculty) taking the best of the schoolboys, with Mr. Goodwin, and eventually Mr. West, Mr. Woodward and Mr. “Buzz” Cuyler working with the rest. Buzz’s youngsters became known as The Kids, a name that would be officially assigned to the best of the lower teams as the School grew. The 1927 yearbook described the first football team’s valiant efforts, with the boys being only second and third formers: “Mr. Cuyler certainly made the most of his material. Our quarterback was so small that, in the first scrimmage against Kent, he dodged a man by running through his legs! The right end weighed seventy-five pounds. Although there

DeCoppett, Thompson, Gillette II and Blake ready for a game.

Probably the Kid team ready for practice on the new field on the Straight Farm, after 1928.

were only twenty-four boys in the school, most afternoons we had two football teams practicing in the pasture — beside the first team, the ‘twerps’ coached by Mr. Goodwin. And a word about the pasture: wherever it wasn’t rocky it was boggy, except for a spot about fifteen yards square; so in practice after every play we turned around and went back again. Lacking a bucking machine, the line pushed a haystack, encouraged from the rear by Mr. Cuyler.” That green team did have games against lower teams from Pawling, Gunnery, Kent, Canterbury and Rumsey Hall, and actually managed to beat Rumsey and Gunnery. By the second year, they were able to compete against some First Teams, although the season was cut short because one boy came down with scarlet fever and the whole school was sent home for three weeks. When the oldest of these boys finally graduated in 1927, they had expanded their roster of opponents to include Kingswood, Ridgefield and Litchfield, and won three out of seven games. At the end of the 1929 season, it was decided that the traditional Kent vs. South Kent matchup would no longer take place, for a very interesting reason, as explained in the Pigtail: “This decision was reached partly because it is unfair to Kent, taking into consideration the feeling between the two schools, to have to play a much lighter South Kent team. The psychological effect prevents Kent from playing the same kind of game against us as they would against Hotchkiss or Choate…

It is with regret that we say farewell to our hopes of beating Kent, but it will be a great advantage to both teams to have this game crossed from the schedule, and in the future we may yet have another chance for victory.”

It is worth noting that in 1924, the Kent School Alumni created an “All Around Athlete Cup” for the best athlete at South Kent, a gesture of tribute and respect that signified the good relationship between the two schools.

As the school grew in size, the number of quality players increased. The yearbook

of 1932 shows a squad of 14 husky young men playing against Salisbury, Kent, Canterbury, Lenox, Wooster and Gunnery, with the note that many of them would be returning to a strong team at the beginning of the next year. At the end of the 1932 football season, Pigtail Editor, Wuz Wittenberg, mused on the meaning of football: “Football is not merely a game nor should it be considered as such. Football holds a unique place which none of the other sports possess, at least, here at the school. I can think of no game which is as valuable to the building of character. Football demands courage, stamina, sportsmanship, self-sacrifice and teamwork, and when the demand is large the supply must increase. No game of football can be won unless there are on one side, eleven men who embody all those attributes, and who are clothed also with a true desire to play the game and win fairly. It is one of the great tragedies of football, that the subject of personal glory must enter into it. There have been so many examples of this not only at South Kent but everywhere else. Perhaps it is natural, but it is not constructive. In a machine, many parts are unseen yet each and every part has something definite to do and each part does its assignment perfectly for the benefit of the completed whole. A football team should be exactly like a machine, working smoothly, easily and precisely. Eleven parts working, often unseen, yet always to the best of their ability.” It seems that the South Kent eleven took Wuz’s sage advice to heart, because the 1933 season turned out to be the best in SKS history at the time. They only lost one game, tied another, and in the process, toppled an undefeated Gunnery, 7-0!

HOCKEY

The first rink was on Hatch Pond, just off shore from the crew boathouses. According to the 1927 SKS yearbook, “about the middle of the first winter, the low rink boards disappeared entirely beneath heaps of snow and ice, and the rink itself was a series of mountain ranges. One painful night was spent in an attempt to mend matters by flooding the rough spots with water obtained through a hole in the ice.” Thus began the long tradition of the entire student body

The 1933 First Team.

trudging down to the lake to shovel, sweep, flood and do whatever else was needed to make the rink useable. An old Model T Ford, outfitted with two rear axles on a tread and skis in front was sometimes used to plow the snow off the surface, but it wasn’t very efficient. More often, they needed

to take the School’s team of work horses, Susie and Helen, and later Frank and Katy, out onto the lake, dragging a large scoop to help remove the mountains of snow! The truck was later adapted for land use and dubbed “The Snowmobile.”

Disgusted by the constant struggle with the Hatch Pond ice, including the ongoing battle with ice fishermen cutting holes in the carefully tended surface, the School decided to build a land rink up closer to the Old Building in 1927, which they could flood with water from the water tower on the top of the hill. A great deal of work went into the project of converting the football field into a proper (but temporary) rink upon which the skilled South Kent players hoped to beat their arch rival Kent School. Mother Nature had other ideas. A January thaw caused patches of bare dirt in the middle of the ice, sending the team back down to Hatch Pond where they discovered a sheltered cove against a steep bank a bit farther up the shore. The sun rarely reached that spot, and so the famous South Kent “Ice Box” rink was established, along with the reputation of the SKS hockey program. In 1928, they had a real team, but bemoaned the fact that they had to spend most of the time clearing snow. Still, the schedule for that year shows a very successful season with seven out of the ten games being played on Hatch Pond, and a total of 26 goals scored by South Kent as opposed to just 13 scored by the other schools.

By the 1930s, they were able to beat Kent and Hotchkiss on occasion. Gunnery, Canterbury, Berkshire, Pawling, Lenox and Westminster became regular rivals. Annual matches with each school were anticipated by the entire SKS student body, every member of which knew how to wield a broom to sweep the ice between periods. As Salisbury coach Hop Rudd once famously said in the 1960s, “How are you going to beat 150 boys with brooms?” The decade ended with a disappointing season, but mainly because of the too-warm weather. Several games were cancelled, although they were able to play arch-rival Kent on that school’s newly created “Preston Mountain” lake rink. Hockey was clearly a favored part of the athletic program. The early issues of the Pigtail are full of goal-by-goal details of each game, and an editorial in February 26, 1932, issue sums up the School’s thoughts about the sport: “Some of you

An early hockey uniform, which offered little protection, as the boy on crutches on the porch may have discovered the hard way.

The 1926-27 First Team with coach Dick Cuyler.

undoubtedly wonder at the amount of space in the Pigtail that is consumed by hockey games. That is not surprising and we merely hope to make it clear to you. Anyone who is at all acquainted with the school and our athletic accomplishments realizes what hockey at South Kent represents. It is the only sport in which we compete with other schools that are far above us in other fields of sport. We have in the past built up strong hockey teams and seem to be continuing to do so. Is it only natural that we should go ahead and write about our hockey games? In short, hockey is South Kent’s forte, and always has been. Perhaps no other athletic award is coveted so much as the SKS for hockey, and most of the kids who play hockey every day, when possible, look forward to the day when they will represent the school on the rink.”

BASEBALL F

or the first three years, baseball was the only organized spring sport. As described previously, the baseball teams played wherever they could find a relatively flat space, and they had little or no equipment. The comments in the yearbooks and the Pigtail make it clear that, for the most part, the spring games were a bit more lackluster than they could have been, and yet there was always hope for the next year. Part of it may have been because of the lack of adequate playing fields, and part of it because of the boys’ rag-tag getups. One student wrote a plea in the paper at the end of the 1928 season, “In the past, South Kent has been represented on the baseball diamond by players dressed in the most unusual costumes imaginable. Some have worn ordinary golf-knickers, others managed to get regular baseball pants of some sort. Some wear football stockings, hockey stockings and some baseball stockings from other schools. Shirts or jerseys never match. With a new field in view, and the reality of home games next year, why can’t we adopt a standard uniform?” The writer then goes on to detail what the uniform might look like and how little it might cost. It would seem that self-reliance and simplicity of life could wear a little thin at times, especially when one is forced to wear stockings from another school! Nevertheless, they

persisted, and with the advantage of the new fields, their skills and spirits grew. The 1930 yearbook still showed the rag-tag getups, but noted that once they had their home field, they were able to win more than half of their games. “The boys who are out for the team are playing baseball because they like it and there is competition for nearly every position, a condition that never before existed.” They beat Gunnery and Canterbury for the first time, and also bested Wooster, Lenox and New Milford High School. Though they predictably lost to the Kent First Team, they did beat the Seconds, 5-4.

The plea for better uniforms paid off, and by 1931, they appeared in natty new ones, closely matching the description in the paper. Though the 1931, ’32 and ‘33 seasons were mixed in terms of final scores, they were optimistic about the future, with good reason — on the First team in 1932 was a third former named Gordon McCoun, whose all-around athletic prowess would become legendary in the second decade of South Kent.

CREW

Fr. Sill’s favorite sport was crew, so he was delighted when Pierre “Pete” Cameron, who had rowed at Yale, joined the South Kent faculty in the fall of 1928, and agreed to take on the position of crew coach in addition to teaching French, Math and English. Mr. Woodward signed on as his assistant coach, and together they assessed the situation at Hatch Pond. The lake was large enough for a five-eighths mile long course, and they knew that four-oared shells would work well in that distance. They had been informally using an old eight-oared shell from Kent, dubbed “The Titanic,” for one or two years, but it was not in great shape, so the decision was made to go with

only fours. It was also decided that using four-oared shells would take fewer boys away from the baseball program, and would be easier to transport to away races.

There was an old shack on the shore that had room for some rowing machines and a shell. In February of 1930, Fr. Sill let Sam know that he had placed an order from the George Sims Company in Cambridge, England, for a brand new four-oared shell that would be delivered in March. Fr. Sill paid for most of it by giving back the salary he had been paid as Chaplain before the arrival of Fr. Robertson, but the School still needed to pay the balance and to buy oars. Several parents pitched in to help pay that cost, and fundraising began to buy a coaching launch and a few more shells. Mr. Bagster-Collins joined the coaching staff, and together with some of the new crew recruits they set about enlarging the shack into a true boat house with room for two four-oared shells as well as several rowing machines. Mr. Cameron scoured the country for parts to refurbish the old rowing machines that the School had

acquired. When the Sims shell arrived by truck at Bulls Bridge, the challenge was how to get it up the muddy road to Hatch Pond. South Kent Boy Power got the job done. Almost all the boys walked down to Bulls Bridge and then took turns carrying the heavy crate with the shell on their shoulders up Spooner Hill and then down to the lake — a distance of over two miles! They were ready to begin.

Coach Cameron was able to schedule a formal race with Pomfret on May 17th, in which the South Kent first boat would race Pomfret’s second, and the second boat would race Pomfret’s third. The April 30, 1930 issue of the Pigtail noted that there was also the possibility of a race with Choate’s third boat, saying, “Although this race is not yet certain, we are all hoping it will go through, for it is only by rowing against better crews than ourselves that we can develop a good crew. No prediction can be made as to the outcome of these races as our crew is as yet in a rather undeveloped state. However, if victory depends on willingness to work and spirit, we are sure our crews will not be found lacking.” The first race, against Choate on May 7, was a learning experience, with the first boat losing badly to the Choate seconds. It only made them hungrier for the next matchup. The May 21 issue, with a huge banner headline, ‘FIRST CREW TIES POMFRET SECONDS,’ describes the day of the big race: “The first boat left school at noon Friday, and arrived at Pomfret to have a practice in the lake there before supper. Some difficulty was experienced in becoming accustomed to the shell allotted to us, which was slightly different from our own. After practice, came supper at the school. In the evening, Mr. Cameron treated the crew to a movie in Putnam, several miles away, and ten o’clock found everyone in bed (if not asleep.) The next morning, the second boat, which had left school at eight o’clock, arrived before noon and the two crews dined together.” Finally, the races began, and, no doubt fortified by all of Coach Cameron’s nourishment, the first boat ran a glorious race, staying barely a yard behind Pomfret’s second, and finally sprinting to a dead-heat finish, quite an achievement for a squad that had a scant few weeks’ experience rowing together.

1931 was a successful year with races against Choate and Pomfret, in which the South Kent first and second boats managed to beat Choate’s firsts and seconds by close but comfortable margins. By the spring of 1932, the crew program boasted a new dock, three crews in shells, and two crews in an old barge. Columbia’s one-hundred-andfifty-pound squad was added to the race roster. South Kent beat them easily, and fared equally well against Pomfret and Choate in most matchups. The next year, the squad acquired a second-hand Davey shell, bought with donations from the faculty and the oarsmen themselves. Another new school — Springfield High — was also added to the roster, and they defeated the Yale freshman

team. The squad ended the decade with a very successful season, for which they thanked Coach Cameron, and noted that it would only continue to get better.

TENNIS

Like crew, tennis got a late start at South Kent, in part because of the challenge of finding a suitable location. The 1927 land hockey rink that had been built at the end of the football field had failed repeatedly, and was finally abandoned after the reliability of the “Ice Box” on Hatch Pond had been confirmed. When the football field had originally been created, it was decided that there was enough room to include three tennis courts on one end, which finally happened in the summer of 1929.

Initially, the search for a supplier of suitable clay, going even as far as Massachusetts, was unsuccessful, but then someone decided to take a closer look at the horrible mud that had been sticking in large clumps to the feet of everyone working on the football field. It was clay, suitable clay! So, the tennis courts were built to occupy the south end of the athletic grounds, while football occupied the north. The 1930 yearbook shows a photo of the new courts right up against the goal post of the football field, and a match against Wooster was reported in the May 21, 1930, issue of the Pigtail, with Mr. Cuyler unofficially coaching the small squad.

Mr. Patterson had taken a leave of absence from the faculty for a year, but when he returned in the fall of 1930, he took on the responsibility of creating and coaching a real tennis team, with Mr. Cuyler assisting. That spring, the team was able to play against Wooster, Gunnery, Canterbury and the Kent seconds, and actually won one match. The next year saw even more improvement, partly due to team captain, John Townsend. The elder of two brothers who would both make their marks on the South Kent tennis program, Townsend was an inspiration to all of the aspiring players

Tending the new tennis courts adjacent to the football field. Keeping the courts smooth and weed-free was a constant challenge.

at school. The report for the tennis season in the 1932 yearbook says, “Townsend’s devotion to tennis, his perfect court manners, and his sound and well-balanced game have happily become associated with tennis at South Kent, and have been of incalculable service in establishing both the attitude of sportsmanship and the knowledge of strokes and tactics which belong traditionally to the sport wherever it is played well.” The last article in the Pigtail about tennis in the final year of the decade noted that 1932 was the first year in which the tennis team had won more than one match, but made it clear that they were looking forward with enthusiasm.

1933 was a bit disappointing. Captain Townsend had graduated, and they missed his leadership. They switched back to a more informal squad, for which Mr. Patterson was not officially a coach, but gave advice, along with Mr. Cuyler. Captain Ward doubled as Manager of the small team, even rolling the courts and stringing racquets. But they were looking ahead, with some promising younger members perfecting their strokes, most notably Tom Townsend and future SKS faculty member/tennis coach, Jerry Waller.

Tennis team with Coach Patterson and John Townsend.

Tennis team with Manager Ward (center) and Tom Townsend (second from right).

All in all, the first decade of sports at South Kent was one of building something out of nothing, in less-than-ideal locations, but the result of the collective determination was a healthy and spirited athletic program that impacted every student at the School.

The editors of the Pigtail said it best in one of their final issues of the year: “Of late the matter of the meaning of education has been much discussed all over the world. Again the point that education is not a mere gleaning of knowledge extracted from books with the aid of a powerful memory has been brought forth in a forceful way. Education, in part at least, is being able to think for one’s self, to place the proper value on all things, concrete and abstract, with which one comes in contact, and to look at the world from a wide viewpoint, being able to choose therefrom the right and the wrong. Let us apply this definition of education to our sports. Surely it is not placing the proper value on sports when all is considered is the score. The game should be played for the pure love of playing and the enjoyment and good to be derived therefrom. Furthermore, the game should be played with the utmost sportsmanship simply because the player thinks for himself and sees that good sportsmanship is the correct thing to display. Certainly these points have nothing to do with the score.”

OPERATIONS, FACILITIES AND FINANCE

When one looks at a photograph of the old Judd farm in 1923 next to the various snapshots of campus in the 1932 yearbook, the contrast is stunning. From a single ten-room farmhouse, the school had grown to include major expansions of that farmhouse, a new dorm and classroom building, an infirmary, three faculty houses, athletic fields, and plans were afoot for a beautiful new chapel. Even more impressive is the fact that the infirmary and two faculty houses had been built and fundraising for the chapel had begun after the disastrous stock market crash in October 1929!

Early aerial photo of campus. The farm in the foreground would eventually be bought by the School, and is now the Wit’s End/Bringhurst complex.

How did South Kent do it? The answer begins with Fr. Sill’s considerable skill at wringing money out of every source possible, coupled with Sam’s abiding faith in his mentor and in God. Sam noted in his diary on December 3, 1923, that the present debt was $25,000, but that Fr. Sill wanted to raise $60,000 not only to pay off that debt but also to build a house for the Headmaster that might include temporary classroom space as well. He proposed issuing 60 $1,000 bonds at 5% to be redeemed over the next ten years. Sam wrote, “I am afraid of money in large sums but I am perfectly confident in anything Pater may suggest. I only feel that I am backing down on the job in not getting out and getting some money myself. Perhaps I may have to sooner than I expect.” Two weeks later, Pater had procured another $25,000 from Mr. Rives, and by the following April, Sam had made fund-raising trips himself to New York and Boston, noting that it wasn’t as bad as he had expected, since his targets were all fathers of current students.

They also decided to raise the annual tuition to $1,000, although they kept the practice of collecting the money on a sliding scale — asking parents to pay what they could afford, with pressure on the wealthier parents to pay more in order to offset the lower contributions from those who could not afford the full $1,000. Tuition income reported in the “Statement of Operations, Fall Term 1924” was $11,650, followed in size by $1,240.06 from “Farm Account”, which was most likely from the tobacco crop that they all worked so hard to produce. Meanwhile they had established a South Kent School Foundation, to which they asked the wealthier parents to donate above and beyond the tuition payments, and a Building Fund. By January 25, 1926, according to a report in the school archives, they had raised a total of $45,895.12.

The first expenditures were on two much needed additions to the overcrowded school building. When school opened in the fall of 1924, a new two-story wing had been added, running west from the northern ell at the backside of the building. According to the 1927 yearbook, this “provided servant’s quarters on the first floor, and a large room upstairs for five or six boys, as well as a basement classroom, used as a study hall for the Second Form. A large sink had been installed in the pantry to facilitate dishwashing and relieve congestion in the kitchen.” The following summer another addition was added, perpendicular to the east side of the original building. It increased the size of the Chapel, locker rooms and dorm, and provided space for more classrooms and living quarters, including for the newly married Sam and Carol Bartlett. With the expansion of the dorm space in this second addition, the large room in the first addition on the north side was turned into the school’s first infirmary. At the same time, a new heating plant and hot water system were added and the dining room was enlarged

The beginning of the addition on the north side of the old farmhouse.

1924 rear addition completed.

by removing a wall that had once separated the old classroom and the dining room. This all temporarily allowed for elbow room and breathing space, but as the size of the student body increased to 70 boys in all four Forms by the fall of 1926, the pressure for more room and more income remained.

Letters were sent out to prospective donors, and some of the positive replies are in the school archives. One reply, dated April 8, 1926, suggests why the campaign was successful: “My dear Sam, I have your letter of April 5th, which is very satisfactory. I like the tone; I like your ideals — stick to them and if you win out, your achievement will be worth every last ounce of effort and sacrifice made. I have learned that what is worth doing at all is worth doing promptly so I am enclosing my check for $1,000 to cover one South Kent School Corporation 6% First Mortgage bond, and with it goes my best wishes.”

A completely new building was constructed in the summer of 1926 on what was then still the southern boundary of the school, providing four classrooms, including a physics lab, many dorm rooms and separate living quarters for two masters. The original school building promptly became officially known as “The Old Building,” and the new one “The New Building,” though its status as new was not to last very long. Other improvements were made around campus as well. Precious money was also spent on installing the large water tower up on the hill, with a pump house down by the lake; the rudimentary, muddy football field was drained and graded flat; and the snow-mobile work vehicle was purchased to ease some of the difficulty of maneuvering around the hill during winter.

1927 saw continued improvements, with the new approach road as discussed earlier, and a large root cellar being built into the bank just west of the kitchen, spacious enough to hold all of the produce grown by Martin on the School’s farm. But the biggest investment was by far the purchase

Hillside 1923-2024

The water tank that sat almost on the crest of the hill above the old Judd farm barns.

Building the large stone wall that served as the east side of the lower level of the New Building.

The root cellar.

of Helen Straight’s adjoining farm, providing considerable land on which to create new athletic fields as well as room to build several faculty houses, the long-dreamed of Chapel and eventually another dormitory. Work needed to be done on the house, which was divided into two faculty apartments, and surveys of the various open fields were carried out to see what could be best put to use for which purpose. It was decided to focus on the lower flat lands southeast of the campus for athletic purposes. Martin, ever the wise land steward and fearing an emerging tangled overgrowth of weeds and vines in the hillier terrain, got to work planting thousands of Red pine, Scotch pine and White spruce trees in the fields across from the Straight House and also just south west of the New Building, above the proposed site of the Chapel. He was helped in the major effort by Sam, Dick and several of the boys.

That was the last of the major expenses for a couple of years, as the School began to seriously plan for the Chapel, as well as a much-needed infirmary building. Sam’s Headmaster’s Statement in the 1929 yearbook noted that all the expansion in the previous years had been funded by bonds and mortgages. “We have taken on all the financial obligations that we care to carry. Any further expansion must come from gifts. Plans for a permanent plant are now being drawn up to care for a school of approximately one hundred and ten boys. It is our intention to build different units as we get the money. We must depend on the generosity of the friends of the school to supply the necessary funds. This infirmary is the first unit we will build and I hope and pray that some friend will see our need and help us.” The young man who just six years earlier had expressed fear of asking for money had now come to accept this difficult role, among others. He had learned a great deal in those short busy years.

Though he acknowledged the future goal of 150 students, in 1929 Sam was not willing to increase the number beyond 75, given the size of the campus, the number of faculty, and the amount of debt that the school was carrying. It was a good thing, because within months the Stock Market had crashed, shaking the economic foundations of institutions everywhere. But South Kent was actually well positioned to face the challenge, being quite used to the idea of simplicity of life! Everyone tightened their belts, literally, as they lived primarily on the food grown on campus. Most meals were based on salad, with the chef preparing cabbage in as many different ways as possible. All hands turned out to bring in the tobacco crop, and it was later noted by Business Manager Woodward that the School probably would have folded during the Depression without the tobacco income. Some parents were unable to pay the $731 tuition fee, so the faculty and the chef were asked to take a temporary 10% salary cut. All of them did.

On April 21, 1930, Sam wrote a letter to the parents, reminding them of the concept of sliding scale tuition, and giving dollar figures to explain the tuition income challenges the School was facing as a result of the Crash. “I have already received word from the fathers of four boys that they do not feel that they can afford to send their boys back another year. I have written to the fathers of these boys urging them to send their boys back and to fill in the blank on the reservation slip with any figure they feel they can afford to pay. I don’t ever want a boy to have to leave South Kent

because he cannot pay the fee and particularly boys who have been as faithful and loyal as these four. In writing these men as I have, I felt confident that I could count on the rest of you to help me see it through.”

But overall, the School fared well, so much so that the usually astute Pigtail never even discussed the Crash until a brief mention a year later at Thanksgiving time, in which they noted that they were thankful to be in good shape relative to the rest of the country.

Funding had been secured for the Infirmary in the summer of 1929 with a gift from Mr. and Mrs. Joseph J. Brown, in memory of their young son Harmar, who died before being able to enter South Kent. Construction started before the students returned in the fall, with the Stock Market disaster having no negative impact on its completion. The April 10, 1930, Pigtail has a good description of the layout: “The first floor is given over to a waiting hall, a clinic, Mrs. James’ quarters, a kitchenette with a dumb-waiter to carry food to patients on the second floor, and four single rooms, each with bath accommodations. The second floor has two four-bed wards and three single rooms, as it was considered wise to keep boys apart who might be in the infirmary with different kinds of contagious diseases.”

Mrs. Brown, who was Secretary of the new Mother’s Association, continued her support of the betterment of the South Kent facilities by raising funds from her members for a new-fangled “Kitchen Aid” mixer for the kitchen which was happily welcomed by the kitchen staff. Renovations

to the kitchen area had been finished, and other equipment purchased, including a new dishwasher, which made the job for the student dishwashers much easier. Their only complaint was that “when the water is swishing its way around the dishes, we cannot see it work,” according to a detailed account of the new contraption in the Pigtail

The new Hutchinson Bros. kitchen stove.

The other new construction of 1930 was the Headmaster’s House which was built just south of the Old Building, giving much needed privacy and space to the growing Bartlett family. It was designed by architect John Gilbert McIlvaine, whose son was a student at school. He had designed the Infirmary and was also working on plans for the new Chapel, which was to be situated just up the small hill from the Headmaster’s House.

All attention was finally focused on that Chapel. Raising money during the Depression would not be easy, but the traditional value of directness of purpose gave the South Kent community an edge. The students’ involvement was strong right from the beginning, as we have seen, and excerpts from the Sixth Form history in the 1932 year book best describe everyone’s feelings: “Last fall the Sixth Form waited on the Headmaster with the request that we make an attempt to raise the necessary funds…A great many letters were written and Father Robertson took a trip on which he interviewed several people. The fund grew gradually until we had enough to build the foundation which was completed last fall before the frost set in. It was our idea to have the foundation ready so that work in the spring could go right ahead and not be held up by having to haul heavy materials through the mud. The letters which were sent out met with hearty response. There are between ninety and one hundred people who have contributed sums all the way from one dollar to two thousand…Many of the gifts represent a real sacrifice on the part of those who gave. Our chapel when it does come will mean so much more to us than it would if it had been the result of a single gift. It will be a daily reminder to us of that which is so necessary to the life of our school — a constant conscious effort towards a life of service to our God, that we may lead the abundant life.”

By the time the decade closed in the spring of 1933, the school had an enrollment of 74 students, paying an average annual tuition of $838; a faculty of seven masters and a chaplain; football, hockey, crew, tennis and baseball teams; a profitable farm and a growing number of loyal alumni who remained engaged in the successful young school, all in spite of the Great Depression.

The Headmaster’s house in winter.

FACULTY Fall 1923 to Spring 1933

Samuel S. Bartlett, Co-Founder, Appointed Headmaster in 1923. History, Sacred Studies, Football, Baseball.

Richard M. Cuyler, Co-Founder, Appointed Senior Master in 1923. Senior Master, English, Latin, Greek, Football, Hockey.

Stanley Goodwin, 1923-1925, 1930-1931. Math, Dorm Master, Business Manager, Football, Hockey, Baseball.

Fr. Whittemore, 1923 only. Part time Chaplain as needed.

Fr. J.H. Kemmis, 1924-1929. Chaplain, French, Cricket.

Lewis “Buzz” Cuyler, 1925-1928. English, Latin, Football, Hockey, Baseball.

Mr. ___ Benedict, 1924-1926. Math.

Mr. ___ Morehouse, 1924-1927. Modern languages.

Prescott Mabon 1924-1926. History, English.

Mr. ___ Davison, 1926/27 only. Math.

Francis West, Joined 1926. Math, Chemistry, Physics, Football, Baseball.

Samuel Woodward, Joined 1926. History, Math, Crew.

Albion Patterson, 1927-1929, Rejoined 1930. French, Spanish, English, Tennis.

Pierre Cameron, Joined 1928. French, English, Math, Football, Crew.

Robert Bagster-Collins, 1928-1931. Math, English, Latin, Football, Hockey, Crew.

Wallace Clark, 1929/30 only. French.

Fr. Karl Tiedemann, 1929-1930. Chaplain.

Richard Tompkins, 1931/32 only. Member of the class of 1930, taught Second Form classes and coached sports where needed.

Fr. Willoughby Henzel, 1931. Chaplain at Gunnery, doing Sunday services only at SKS until a new Chaplain was hired.

Fr. William Robertson, 1931-1932. Chaplain.

William Gillette, SKS ’29, Joined 1931 (the first alumnus to do so). Math, Latin, English, Football, Hockey.

Fr. William Mayo, 1933. Acting Chaplain

Sources

1. Joan M. Beattie, Kent: One Hundred Years (Lafayette, CO, Moonlight Publishing LLC, 2007): 2

2. www.uvm.edu/~dewey/articles/proged.html

3. “Education: Schooling,” TIME- The Weekly News-Magazine, February 8, 1926, Vol. VII, No. 6: 22

4. Frances Atwater, History of Kent, Connecticut (Meriden, Connecticut, The Journal Publishing Co., 1897): 100

5. Joseph Landon, The Principles and Practices of Teaching and Class Management, (London, Alfred M. Holden, 1899): 202

6. Hartford Courant (Hartford, Connecticut) July 17, 1927: 52

A Note from the Author for Chapter One: Marge Smith

I grew up on the South Kent campus, where my father, “Foggy Art” Smith taught from 1954 to 1977, and my mother, Maggie Smith, from 1969 To 1978. Along with my sister Ellen and brother Lawrence, I was part of a tight-knit clan of Faculty Brats that included (in our day) Bartletts, Browns, Dingmans, Richardses, Wallers and Wisters. We Brats are still close today, and often talk about the bond we always will have. Our amazing mothers each looked out for all of us as we roamed the campus together. We all loved to bundle up and go watch hockey games at the “Ice Box” on Hatch Pond. Dad took my dog Pouncer and me in his launch while he coached the Barges in the spring, and afterwards we would go look for turtles and salamanders at the north end of the Lake. It was a truly magical childhood, something which most people think only happens in TV Land when we tell them about it. But we know it was true.

I treasure my South Kent family. That family also includes the hundreds of “big brothers” I have, thanks to my parents’ open-door hospitality that brought countless homesick boys, especially Second and Third Formers, to our house for cocoa, cookies and games. Many of you babysat for us as well, and hundreds of you stayed in touch with Art and Maggie for the rest of their lives, which meant more to them than you can possibly know! I still live in Kent, and seeing those of you who come back for Alumni Weekend is always a great pleasure for me. I’m lucky enough to remember some of the earliest South Kenters, such as PopEye McCoun, Durand Echeverria, Tom Townsend and Alexander Hamilton, among others who often returned to campus to see their own children on Parents’ Weekend, or to reconnect with each other on Alumni Weekend.

I would like to extend my sincere gratitude to another SKS Alumnus, without whom this chapter would be very different. Ralph Woodward ’47 was the editor of the Pigtail in his day, and became the School’s first historian. He later established the SKS Archives. We worked closely on the early chapters, and when I got an email about Chapter One from him that said, “Splendid! Flows and burbles along like the winding Housatonic!”, I knew I was on the right track.

Having been immersed in the Pigtail community all my life means that I have absorbed the concepts of Simplicity of Life, Self-Reliance and Directness of Purpose as well as any student. I would not be who I am today without SKS. It is a real honor to write this book for you! Thank you.

Servant well done.