Kent School - Kent Yearbook (Kent, CT)

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DUB TIME THE T... UMEFU The Class of 1952 has wandered, walked, and run, through five long years at Kent. The footprints that we have left in our path have grown in size as they approached this present day of graduation, and indicate the growth of our whole selves along the way. Even the least of us, scuffling our toes in the dust and mud, and balking at every progressive step, have absorbed something: some of the life has rubbed off on us to leave its perpetual simple stain, the mark of every Kent man. Those who with willing feet have run ahead of the form and lit the way- to them we are grateful. For those who have left before graduation, we End a good deal of sorrow that they are not with us today. To Kent and for all that it stands, to those men who are Kent, we are eternally thankful, and hope we have given back, at least in part, what we have taken away. No doubt at one time in our history there was a beginning, but even those who have survived live long winters and five deep floods-even these few veterans in their most nostalgic moments can remember little about the day when the Class of 1952 ceased to be a pleasant expectation in the minds of those in charge of admissions and be- came a horrid reality to the Sixth Form Spon- sors. And it is questionable whether that irate group made a much better first impression throughout our ranks: though they were more numerous and far more imposing than we, they discretely left their shaved baseball bats in their corners for the first few weeks, which condition we later learned to appreciate. Bruno Famed Nvwsnetters high-scoring cen- ter, Bruno also capably graces the soccer held, and, in spring, a shell. Noted for delicate Curtain Raiser por- trayals as well as athletic feats, Bruno is best remembered as the friendly bulk about the campus. Sock 'em, Bruno! Baldy Bert has made quite an impression Happy Valley-wise since crossing the bridge two Septembers ago. Always inquisitive, he nearly lost his long nose Sz short thatch attempting to beat Rus- sia to the hydrogen bomb. Good luck at Yale, Bertg don't experiment at Morey's. Those first few weeks might have been heaven, hell, or just plain confusion 3 whatever they were, they were decidedly not normal. In fact, few of us can recall any period of over three days that might be termed normal, even by the most liberal of Kent standards. Any second form is divided into two cata- gories by the knowing, older Kenties: those who are wise and those who aren't. Second formers recognize this division too, but their vocabulary, being simpler and therefore nearer the truth, think of the groups as those who try to make a good impression and those who are too afraid to open their mouths. Rastus Snowden, straight from Nashville, Tennessee and Boss Crump's bosom, was among the least inhibited and boldest of the new boys. At his first Kent meal he took his place at the bottom of the table which he was to occupy for the next eight months, and when the waiter approached Rastus merrily served himself. The table head, after waiting several moments to find appropriate words and to swal- low his Snifties, demanded the food. Take it easy, man, there's plenty here for both of us. This remark set the tone for Rastus' stormy if short career. As the days wore on and Mr. Happy Jack Armstrong and his book-throwing became almost commonplace, the Hour Board became so well known that we were able to grin philosophically as we passed our misspelled names. The Sixth Formers became less fatherly and more demand- ingg the masters, who had spoken kindly at first when we could see no sense in memorizing mensa

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Ill THE SIXTH FORM, which has engaged in Kent life in so many different gaits and such diverse ways and with whom this book is concerned, appears here. Their dissimilar faces and unlike histories fade in the fellowship that has been theirs at Kent. They have led the school in a period which marked a change of administration and perhaps a more lasting change of school policy: responsibility assumed rather than authority delegated.

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-ae,f, and stylus-i,m, and consequently ended our first three weeks with an average of 30, threw up their hands in desperation, everyone who had once smiled and referred to us affectionately as brats frowned on us as we passed. In more of a quandary on November lst than we had been a month earlier, the second form was indeed in poor spirits. Class elections remedied matters a bit: at least we would have leaders from whom we might take our cue. The trouble began after Jimmy Tewks- bury had been unanimously elected president. We were at a loss, more or less, when nomina- tions for vice-president were in order. Some few concentrated their efforts and began a boisterous campaign for Skinner, and though a primitive form of political agitation it was, that man held the post of Veep for the first three months of our existence. A Littig-for-secretary faction arose and a more sophisticated campaign was carried on in hoarse whisphersg Littig's office, like Tewksbury's, was to be held by him as long as he remained at Kent. john was destined to leave us, once via the wall, once via the road, and never has he been heard of since. At Thanksgiving the bedraggled form was free for two whole days. On his return, Jim Bishop's pockets bulged suspiciously. From a cache which had once been a window frame, Apey dispensed quarters Qin rollsj in a thriving coins-or-candy business and enjoyed the form's adulation. During exams the first small group of rabble to do so distinguished itself from the form. The Crushers, later to attain great prestige with the Sunday afternoon softball crowd under a differ- ent name, was formed-a social, political, and geographical organization. Not yet developed into lovers of the outdoors, the Crushers held rugged indoor games: water and pillow lights nightly, interspersed with bed-setting. A rival faction sprang up in self-defense, dubbing them- selves the Club Club because they carried broken legs of their chairs en route to the Connecting Hall. One night the inevitable happened-a pil- low broke over a luckless lad's head. The crowd of combatants scattered, but at lights the Class of 1952 had been rudely ushered into the hall and the Seniors had begun the questioning. Unc Witherall, his face a mask of innocence, Greasy Jack Marino, looking humble, and Barrel Betts, whose integrity had been insulted, filed sedately from their rooms and stood against the wall. After 90 minutes, the same number of threats and odd exercises, the trio trooped to bed. The feathers settled, but the mystery was never solved. Winter came and went g at the end of the term Dave Quarterbacking, flashing blades and a rubber pitching arm have marked Dave Gallup's trail through Kent. His prowess on the football field will ever be remembered along with some very mysterious letters postmarked North- ampton and exuding the fragrance of Night in Paris. Big Ron Seemingly a living example of the no strain philosophy, R011 hides his talents under a deceptively bland countenance and disjointed slouch. Welcome bearer of morning coffee, he has built up an honor roll average and makes playing the hot corner seem like everything else he doesAsimple. Highly skilled at blast-blast ball, our New Jersey buddy heads for Colgate. 2I Turk Tactful Turkey, who has blessed Kent with his wit, friendliness, and energy for three years, has led an active life with a hand in many pies. Proud of his academic record, Turk is an out- standing history student and always on the honor roll. As News associate he spends many long hours over dum- mies, but ever finds time out for rowdy bull sessions. l do