Phil Stevens, Jr., is an anthropologist  at the State University of New York at Buffalo. An excerpt of the following letter appeared in the fall Bulletin Vol 101, Number 2.

I was inspired by Victoria Brett’s article in the Winter Bulletin to set down some of my reflections on growing up on campus in the early 1950s. The life skills and breadth of knowledge I gained were extraordinary.

Phil and Sarah Stevens moved from New Haven in 1949, with four kids; in birth order: Phil, Jr. (called Flip), Peter, David, and Jonathan. Two more, Ruth and Timothy, would be born at Cooley-Dickinson Hospital in Northampton. My siblings will have somewhat different memories, but they share many of mine. For me, of course, “growing up on campus” meant also the status of Son of the Headmaster; and that experience was complex and fraught and must be a separate story! I will discuss here the opportunities the campus provided for a boy in the world.

I was 7 when we arrived and settled into The Homestead. That majestic building was really the face of the school, and its front rooms were to be maintained as a welcoming, comfortable, and stately space. Even the kitchen, with its fireplace with black iron kettle on a swinging hook, and Dutch oven, projected hospitality. To accommodate our expanding family, the floor above the kitchen and garage was subdivided into three bedrooms and a spacious playroom, where we spent many hours; and where Mrs. Donais’ Cub Scout Pack 22 met weekly! The basement was a delightful place for kids; with dark hidden spaces and a stairway to nowhere, a wood room and a coal room with chute, dust and cobwebs, the smell of age and neglect – it invited modification into a Halloween chamber of horrors, which we tried over a couple of seasons, charging skeptical friends 5c. for admission.

I should also say that in those days parents were far less fearful of letting their kids roam freely, which was a good thing, because the roles of Headmaster and Headmaster’s Wife were extremely demanding of time. [Mom always had live-in housekeepers of various ages and levels of tolerance, including a middle-aged Russian refugee (Displaced Person, or “DP” as that sad role was called then), a succession of female students at Northampton Commercial College, and a widow, Mrs. Marie Stillman, who lived with us until obliged to retire to an assisted-living facility. Part of those persons’ duties was to serve us suppers on the many evenings when Mom accompanied Dad at the Headmaster’s Table in the school dining hall – on the Main Street campus in the early years, then in Ford Hall.]

I attended Center St. School through the 4th grade, Junior School through the 8th, then left for Deerfield in the fall of 1955. I should note that the Main Street Campus, with its striking Old Gym Tower modeled after the tower in Siena’s town square, was extant for a few years, but was not part of my world.

Continue reading →