The Headmasters Papers (10 page)

I am at home now in my study. Night is, I'd say, about five minutes away. A leaden blue-grey sky is softening even the leafless prickly treeline. Meg is asleep. Nurse McCarty (night shift Tues., Thurs., Fri.) is reading, or possibly drinking. All is quiet. And as the headmaster ponders the way of things in solitude, what does he ponder?

He ponders drinking and the problem of adolescent celebration in general. How did our social fabric ever get woven with such an annoying hole? Lest I sound obscure, the situation is this: our final games of the fall term are Saturday. Three teams have practiced and played hard, and some honest effort has been put forth, physical sacrifices made. Given the nature of the animals involved, the players have made an effort to keep the spirit of training regulations. Saturday night the boys would like, if they could arrange it without detection, to drink a lot of beer, to get loud and raucous and silly and, under that cover, be affectionate, sentimental, even ecstatic. For a few of the boys involved, the goal would be drunkenness and iconoclasm; for most of them it would be—though they'd die before admitting it—fellowship. But of course we can't have that, given school rules, state laws, 
in loco parentis,
 etc. And what a shame! What a sad restraint, a dreary response to some no doubt ancient, if not original, sin to do with drinking. I wish I could have the lot of them here in my parlor and not quite enough beer on tap to drown them. Did you know that used to be done? Remember that scene in 
Tom Brown's School Days
 when Tom first gets to Rugby? There is a huge anarchic football game, involving the whole school—a kind of free-form war organized around the movement of a ball. Tom does something minor but painful to advance his team's position. That night the 
school
 serves beer, and there is singing and speeches and (unmistakably tipsy) good fellowship before the porters turn off the taps. What has happened? What social progress has made this impossible?

You, on the other hand, are probably pondering the dual nature of the romantic ideal or the non-poetic poetics of concrete imagists, or, more likely, a drink and some stew. Ah, the road not taken.

Thanks again for your warm and, as always, bang-on critical observations about the cancer thing. Finish it, yes. But have you thought about that? I can do cancer/despair by feeling it, by identification. But finishing it requires—well, being finished. Doesn't it? That I can't do vicariously. But I'll work on it; maybe I'll rely on Art.

We're managing here. The center is holding. Meg sends love. When next we meet, you will see a thinner, shored-up Greeve, a Greeve measuring 33” around the waist, a diameter last recorded in his college days. Meg and my colleagues insist that I look godawful for the improvement, but I feel this is due to the way my old clothes hang about my no longer portly frame. Another theory, perhaps the valid one, is that I looked awful before and the recent difference merely points out a fact to which the dull-eyed faculty had become inured. It certainly is an interesting question, isn't it?

Don't forget about February. What are you reading? Writing?

Love,

John

30 October

R
EMARKS
T
O
T
HE
S
CHOOL

I would like to conclude this morning's assembly by saying I am glad we won our contests with Haverhill. I cannot of course be as ecstatic as you are because, if you will recall, I knew we were going to win. Do not misunderstand me. I am not gloating. I take no personal 
pride
 in being prophetic. For prophecy, you know, is a gift. I am merely its location, its mouthpiece.

So in closing, let me repeat that I am very pleased with the fall teams, the way one is pleased that water falls or that a sail fills with wind. I would normally dismiss you for First Class, but I seem to recall a promise . . .

Now, you may either remain here in the assembly hall where some of the faculty and I have prepared a very informative program on seventeenth-century breakthroughs in natural science, or you may go off and do whatever you please. I believe cocoa and donuts are available in the Hall for anyone interested.

Good morning.

3 November

Mr. Dewey Porter
Chairman, Seven Schools Conference
Adelbert School
Eavesham, Connecticut

Dear Dewey,

Thanks for your letter. I agree—I think—that our session last week was productive, although the unstated “vibes” from Fred and the St. I.'s crew were a little chilling.

I like the proposed mechanism for settling sportsmanship disputes. The ad hoc ombudsmen should serve well, although if many protests are filed, their time may be heavily taxed. At any rate, I like it, I vote for it. I would have been glad to refer my St. I.'s tiff to such a board.

You ask me if I wouldn't consider, in the spirit of the new policy, reinstating St. I.'s on next year's schedule. Practically, I can't. We've already filled in most of the holes. Ethically, I don't think I would if I could. To relent at this point—still without an acknowledgement of foul play from Fred, I remind you—would hardly be in the spirit of the new resolves. I think we've got plenty of soft-headed accommodation these days, whether in national politics or in the schools. Why does a principle—even a well-established one—make everybody so uncomfortable? St. I.'s can just reschedule. Here I stand. (Did you know that Luther never said that?) I told Fred to get on that in early October. Now it's going to be tricky, especially in the fall.

Thanks for your kind words about our Haverhill triumph. I have nothing modest to say. I loved it.

Best,

John

5 November

Mr. Robert Lavell
CBS Television Network
51 West 52nd Street
New York, New York

Dear Mr. Lavell,

Thank you for your inquiry about Wells as a potential site for your 
Here and Now
 special, “The Last Boy's School.”

I am afraid I must decline on the school's behalf. A school year, once in motion, establishes its own rhythm and momentum, and the to-do involved in being filmed might just spoil ours. Also, for whatever it says about us, we are rather avowed foes of television viewing. We do not recommend it in general, nor do we allow it here, either as a diversion or as a rival source of information to books and talk. We have no TV sets in our dormitories or in the lounges. Of course our policy reflects only our view of the relationship between TV and school; the larger question of TV's place in society is rather beyond us. In light of this, I don't think we would be very consistent in allowing ourselves to become an enthusiastic subject for television.

For what a personal observation is worth, my impressions, spotty as they are, of the 
Here and Now
 approach is that the object is to “see through,” debunk, or, at most, to reveal whatever is under scrutiny with such apparent detachment that the result is heavy irony. I may be mistaken in this, and, as I say, I seldom watch television. But has 
Here and Now
 ever celebrated its subject? If I were a skilled filmmaker and knew what I know about school life, I think I could make a documentary that would show 
anything.
 But what would be the point in that?

So, if not at Wells, I wish you luck with your project. And I hope you are able to celebrate what is fine in the school you ultimately settle upon.

My good wishes,

John O. Greeve

7 November

Mr. Hugh Greeve
Pembroke House
St. Edward's School
Framingham, Massachusetts

Dear Hugh,

Your letter positively hit the spot with Meg. The image of you working through the amorous entanglements (apparently I should use that term literally) of your dormitory charges is worthy of publication. Are you interested?

We regret, too, that a family “do” is not advisable for this Thanksgiving. Given Meg's energy level and the nature of her care, she could not really participate in any of the togetherness, and that would hurt her. Better, I think, to spend a quiet day with a warm picture of all of you in her heart.

I have looked forward to Thanksgiving recess more enthusiastically than I am to this year's, but I am nevertheless grateful for the breather. I have a mound of paperwork to do for the trustees and, frankly, I could stand to sleep for a day or two. Perhaps I'm getting old. I understand that school people in England can respectably retire in their mid-fifties, on the same principle that combat soldiers are allowed to be pensioned off early. But then what? Work for Jenkins in the boat yard in Sandwich? I may have to anyway if he charges anywhere near what he charged for the 
Valmar
 last winter. Why is it so expensive? They just put on varnish, don't they? I could put on varnish.

Still nothing from your wandering cousin, my son. We have some lookouts posted, though, on two continents.

Have a marvelous, restful holiday. I'll call your house Thursday p.m. Meg appreciates your writing even more for knowing the time of year and what you had to put aside to do it. In you, my boy, is the complete absence of everything I dislike in the young.

Love from both of us,

Uncle John

10 November

Mr. William G. Truax
President, Fiduciary Trust Company
New Haven, Connecticut

Dear Bill,

As promised after the board meeting, I am enclosing for you, and have already done so for Seymour, our complete records, including a chronology by me of the Charles Stone disciplinary proceedings. I am very sorry it has come to litigation. I can't imagine it will cost us anything, since, however marvelous their attorneys, there isn't much of a case for the boy. As I understand it, the Wilcoxes are attached to the suit just for the ride; Mrs. Stone is footing the bill. Seymour told me over the phone that damages have already been awarded in Connecticut to parties who have been shown to be “deprived of educational opportunity” after being “publicly” defamed by a school head. If this means that we can no longer address the school about important events in school life, the whole system has gone to smash. (Incidentally, I believe I have already sent you my remarks to the school on this matter.) I hope Tim Shire and I aren't tied up for days in court. I personally can't afford that at the moment, and Mrs. Stone does not deserve the satisfaction. You know it's historically true that every Western society from 4th century BC Athens to the present has been obsessed with litigation at the same time it has been in its most accelerated decline. The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life. Bloody-minded woman.

I really appreciate your concern about Meg. You are by no means negligent in not inquiring sooner. I have actually taken some pains to keep the nature and extent of her illness something of a secret. This may not be fair to good friends, but it has served the narrower purpose of keeping both of our lives a degree calmer. We have not yet had to undergo the trial of seeing the sadness and fear reflected and magnified in the faces of everybody else we know. There will be a time for that, I am sure, but I am not quite up to it yet. For the present Meg will remain here at home under nurses' care. She is stable for the moment, although very weak and not very comfortable. It is the nature of this cancer that she has practically no natural resistance; hepatitis, pneumonia, or even a lesser virus is a greater immediate danger than the cancer.

Again, I am touched by your concern and by your generous offer to relieve me of school duties for an unspecified interim. For the time being, I would like to pass up that option. The rhythm of work at school is, besides taxing, also an ordering factor in my life. I'm not too proud to admit that I frankly need the work, for the time being. The alternatives terrify me, would bring me closer to what I dread most. Does this make sense? It is a relief to know, however, that if I should need to call on the board for some special dispensation in the months ahead, they may be favorably disposed.

I actually do have some unscheduled time opening up over the Thanksgiving Vac, and I will be able to devote some serious attention to “Wells: Ten Years and After.” You have been patient with me on this, and I am grateful.

Because everybody else says so too, I will reluctantly have to accept your assessment of my physical appearance. I am not working myself ragged, I assure you. I think the real cause of my decline is the simple fact that I have reverted to a quite deeply ingrained seediness, veiled these long years from the general public's notice by fastidious adjustments on Meg's part. I am not “pooped,” as you suggested last week. This is the real me. I looked the same—even weighed the same—when Meg lifted me out of my undergraduate pallor. I might remind you, too, that I am quite old, more the Barry Fitzgerald than the Bing Crosby in the Wells School saga. But again, I appreciate your concern. I will spruce and fatten up over the break. Who wants to be bad PR? Who wants to be pitiful? Not me. Although it might be effective to look a little beaten up in court when Mrs. Stone brings forth her venomous accusations.

I will keep in touch, Bill. I hope all of the Truaxes have a glorious holiday.

Best,

John

13 November

MEMO to All Faculty
Re: Term Exams

You will find attached the final version of the term-exam schedule we discussed at Friday's meeting. Unless there are excessive makeups, this schedule should allow ample time for exams to be graded before the holiday, which I sincerely hope is dedicated to well-deserved rest and diversion.