We converged on campus in the Purple Valley traveling by plane, by train, and mostly by car. From points to the south, the Taconic Parkway north provided a pastoral ride with a hint of cooler fall weather and the color of leaves beginning to turn. We had definitely left the hot summer behind. For high […]Read article
By the time of our college years, Williamstown was already well-known in travel circles as “The “Village Beautiful”, a slogan the town had adopted. Who was the promotional genius responsible for it? The story begins with the Greylock hotel, the summer resort hotel on the corner of North and Main Streets, in the immediate area […]Read article
One thing I’ve discovered while writing these recollection pieces is that my memory has gaping holes. I’ve mentioned that I don’t remember whose idea the Comiskey Park incident was. And later, you’ll find I don’t remember whose idea the bus trip was. But here the hole is that I don’t remember going to college. Not being in college. I’ll write some about that. I don’t remember getting to college. I’m pretty sure my dad drove me. But I remember nothing about the drive, which must have taken two days. Is this from a faulty memory, or the wondrous subconscious? Did we discuss my future? Did Pop reminisce about his college days? I don’t remember.Read article
At our commencement, we were amused by the local custom of following the High Sheriff of Berkshire County in the procession. He was none other than John Courtney, Jr. (1922-2001), Class of 1970, who served in the position from 1963 to 1978. He wore the traditional attire: top hat, cutaway coat, vest and bow tie. […]Read article
President John Sawyer was a distant figure to most of us, the more so because he was not the best of public speakers and seemed to have a certain reserve in gatherings. It was rather paradoxical, really, on a campus where the Mark Hopkins ideal of professors and students engaging in lively discussion in a very personal educational process was the norm.Read article
Scene: The lower reading room of the Williams College Library
Time: About 3 am.
A kind of late-night emptiness, accentuated by the buzzing of fluorescent lights, pervades the room. All the dawn-scribblers and midnight-oilers have left. From across the campus the gym clock sounds its three o’clock dirge, and the dark portraits, silent for generations, finally speak.
First to break the hollow silence are Charles Dewey, 1824-1866, a weak-eyed, rather pale former trustee; and to his right the stern nobly-bewhiskered benefactor Frederick Ferris Thompson, he of the Memorial Chapel and the science buildings.
Created by Williams 68 Web Team Historian John Dirlam. If you changed careers after that, let us know in the Comments section below. What Were We Doing Back in 1993? The 25th Reunion Class Book offers a snapshot of the early career choices we made, as well as what some of us did immediately after […]Read article