Williston started producing annual wall calendars in the 1930s, initially as a fund-raiser for the class yearbook, The Log. In the Archives, we never purchase new calendars; it’s much more fun to go to the files and pull old ones that match the current year.
1939 was a pretty rotten year for most of the planet, but Williston began the year with optimism, as, one hopes, we all do in 2017. On behalf of all of us at Williston Northampton, best wishes for the new year!
Coming Soon: the Absolutely True Tale of the Campus Lion. Well . . . mostly true. Subscribe to “From the Archives” and never miss a post!
Andy Lapidus – Andrew Stone Lapidus – wasn’t at Williston Academy for very long. Having spent three years at Avon Old Farms, he was tempted north to Williston’s greener French Department and pastures in 1964. Away from the classroom and the soccer field, he was rarely without a camera, and at a time when Williston didn’t offer a photography class, organized a camera club.
He left Williston in 1966 for the Cate School in Carpinteria, California, met his future bride Roxanne, and eventually shifted his professional attentions from French to counseling and advocacy for youth. They raised three sons, Peter, Alex, and Paul. Sadly, he left us, aged 72, in 2010. A few months ago Roxanne sent the Archives a cache of photographs he’d taken at Williston. We exchanged a couple of letters – she was initially surprised that anyone remembered him. Roxie visited the campus at Reunion last May and met others who had fond recollections as well.
But of course I remembered him. Andy was unforgettable. Perhaps I should qualify that memory. In 1964 I was 12, a somewhat nerdish, classically-trained Williston faculty brat. Brats of my ilk found Andy fascinating. Here was an adult who didn’t take adult-ness too seriously, who would break off a grownup conversation to deliver a wicked aside meant only for juvenile ears, or deliver a straight-faced pun so horrible that even Horace Thorner would shudder. He was subversively funny. I think we understood that deep down, he was one of us.
And his camera was an essential accessory. Some of Andy’s native whimsy comes through in his photographs, especially in certain portraits, which often capture something unspoken about their subjects.
Here is a sampling. Where images are uncaptioned, it is because we don’t know who the people are. Readers are invited to help us with that; please email email@example.com; if you can fill in a blank, or if anyone is mis-identified, we’d like to know!
Williston Northampton is 175 years old this year. But almost forgotten amidst the dodransbicentennial [yes, it’s a real word!] hoopla is another milestone: Ford Hall opened a century ago this fall.
After the Homestead, it is the first structure to have been built on the so-called “new” campus. The Senior Dorm. (Not any more.) The Gold Coast. (No longer.) The Fraternity. (Ditto — perhaps, perhaps not.) Even in these unsentimental twenty-teens, some students — many of them the sons of alumni — will claim that to live in Ford Hall is to have arrived. It goes without saying that their non-Ford peers might not agree.
But if any campus building can be said to embody Tradition, with a capital T, it must be Ford. No doubt some individual traditions are best left unrecorded in a family publication like the From the Archives. Alumni of various generations will recognize references to the Phantom, those “useless” fireplaces, the Bomb Sight, the Great Newspaper Caper, Couchie’s Carlings, and the mythical Kid Who Was Taught His Colors Wrong. If you have to ask, you weren’t there.
On the other hand, readers who were there are invited to add their favorite Ford Hall stories to the comment form at the bottom of this article. What, after all, is a history blog for? Be advised, though, that publication is likely, unless you’ve forgotten that there is no statute of limitations on good taste.
It is hard to imagine that a structure so much a part of the fabric of Williston Northampton life was almost never built. Samuel and Emily Williston’s estates had provided an endowment for the operation of the school, which was originally situated at the head of Main Street, on a site now occupied by two banks and a supermarket. Emily’s will conveyed the Homestead and surrounding land — the present campus — to Williston Seminary, with the proviso that the school erect at least one new building on the property. Continue reading →
Names have been changed to protect the reputations of the guilty.
Once upon a midnight dreary not too many years ago, a Ford Hall dorm master – specifically, the occupant of an apartment overlooking the Pond and Victory Bell – was contemplating bedtime. The dorm was quiet, the inmates apparently enjoying their guileless dreams, when all at once . . .
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! The teacher – we’ll call him Mr. Ford – sprang from his bed and looked out the window, where he could see a shadowy figure ringing the Victory Bell. Mr. Ford threw open the window. “Now cut that out,” he shouted – or words to that effect.
CLANG! CLANG! The ringing continued. So Mr. Ford threw on his bathrobe, descended several flights of stairs, and emerged to confront the misguided Quasimodo. “Please stop,” called Mr. Ford – or words to that effect.
CLANG! Mr. Ford had had enough. “What the heck is wrong with you” (or words, etc.), he shouted, as he grabbed the bellringer’s arm and spun him around.
The arm came off. “Aaughh!” screamed Mr. Ford, as gales of laughter descended from the upper stories. The villains had constructed a straw effigy, tied its arm to the ringer, and operated the bell by means of a length of nylon fishline strung from a window.
And what was the very best Ford Hall Prank Ever? We’re going to save that for another day. Subscribe to From the Archives and you’ll never miss a post!