Hoosac School - Owl Yearbook (Hoosick, NY)

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Father Clinton H. Blake, Jr. Whatever mark the class of 1966 may make upon the world will be the very necessary result of the mark Father Blake has made upon the minds and souls of each and every one of us. Father Blake had a lesson to teach us—a lesson in taste and the ability to distinguish between sweet and sour—and we shall always hope that we have become the gourmets he wished us to be. Father Blake brought a spirit of happiness and comfort onto the Hoosac campus which he tried, with what success it will be impossible to tell for many years, to spread through- out the student body. We hope you have done a good job. Father Blake. Father H. Brevoort Cannon When circumstances demanded that Hoosac School find itself a temporary headmaster, the Board of Trustees rightly decided that the best available man should be found to lead Hoosac school through a very important interim period and just as rightly decided that this man was un- deniably Father H. Brevoort Cannon. Father Can- non came to us as, comparatively speaking, a stranger. Since his arrival, in early April, Father Cannon has guided us through a year which can never by any standards of judgment, be described as anything but a complete triumph in the annals of Hoosac School. We are very grateful for your determined and consistently wise leadership. Father Cannon, through a year so very important to our class. 9

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THE HEADMASTER’S COLUMN How does it look from the headmaster's chair. Especially, what is the perspective on school life for one who is un- expectedly jettisoned into this position? There are the practicalities of life; the actions and re- actions of human beings—good and bad together for all are sinners. Then, there is the lore, the tradition, the background. One thought of Dr. Edward Dudley Tibbits and his brother LeGrand C. Tibbets. Was the Tibbits influence, the spirit of the Ancient Regime still palpable? I found it to be. Fr. Whit- comb I had never known although I had known his daughter and son-in-law at Princeton. But I had heard of the gallant fight against every conceivable difficulty—not only virtual bank- ruptcy, but also the vitriolic attacks of his detractors. Fr. Wood I had known as a master at St. Paul's School. His devotion needs no comment. Then, of course, there are all the nameless ones—boys and masters; cooks and trustees; benefactors and nightwatchmen; well wishers, enemies and critics. Again and again they speak the truth—God is truth and judgment. All these are what make the school—they have created and main- tained the spirit of Hoosac down to the present moment. So I come to the end of these meanderings. The end is a salute to the graduating Sixth Form. They too have made their mark on this school. For they surmounted the trials, the petty lies, the rumors, the infidelities and the dissolusionments of this year. They refused to be thrown off base. They main- tained their poise, their balance, their good humor, and their faith. Te Deum Laudamus.

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Miss Margaret Braswell Late in March of this year, the enigmatical, although vaguely reassuring figure of Miss Braswell walked into our senior English classes and began to tell us about a world and a way of thinking which was strange, challenging and altogether de- lightful. Miss Braswell had that strangely contagious sort of humor—perhaps not a little due to a fine record of thirty years' teaching experience at St. Agnes' School for girls and a profound love of liter- ature—which makes even the dreary task of writing a library paper an experience worthy of being listed on our chart of pleasures. The senior class may never produce another Emerson, but it will certainly communicate with its fellow men, thanks to its six weeks of exposure to the determination and en- thusiasm of Miss Braswell. We thank you. Miss Bras- well. Mr. H. Ashton Crosby If one man were to be chosen the guiding spirit of virtually every dramatic production, every literary endeavor and every intellectual inspiration ever to have appeared on the Hoosac campus in the past two years, that man would undoubtedly have to be Mr. Crosby. Astoundingly familiar with the world of English literature, Mr. Crosby has the rare gift of clarity to enable him to impart his knowledge to even the stubbornest and slowest minds. Mr. Crosby's experience in his field, how- ever, has not been limited to the merely vicarious sort of experience, as we all know, having benefited from his previous work in the professional theater and his highly competent, although, as yet, officially unrecognized, original verse. The senior class owes you a great deal, Mr. Crosby. Mr. Harry H. Dickie He doesn't teach any of our courses and he has a funny way of talking, but, twenty years from now, we shall probably think of Hoosac School only in the context of his proper setting, because 'Coach' Dickie has undoubtedly been at the heart of the happiest and most rewarding moments we ever knew while we were there. A funny little man running along the sides of the soccer field screaming, Get back in your positions!'', a comfortable, fatherly man inviting us into his home for a quiet evening of tele- vision and, if requested, a little sincere and inter- ested advice, a good-humored, happy man who pretends to be nearly ready to challenge us one and all to a wrestling match—all of these men are summed up in one man: 'Coach' Dickie. 10