Classes of the 40s and 50s

5:20

Although I spent a lot of time in “5:20” study hall, the Walker Building flies liked it even better than I did. I found I could catch them by hand and send them on to fly heaven by banging and stomping them on the floor. This I did twenty-one times in one hour! Modestly, I submit, this must be a record that still stands. I doubt that I could accomplish this again since flies are so much faster today. Granted this does not warrant a plaque in Dick Gymnasium, but it’s still nice to have a Woodberry record.

-Bob Borden ’55

5:20

-Bob Borden ’55

Sixty Three Years of Woodberry Forest

A little over sixty-three years ago, I entered WFS six months after spending a few days taking entrance exams in the Walker building. After graduating in 1954, I did pre-med at UNC, then med school at Duke, intern at UVa, marriage and US Navy, Duke residency, then OBGYN doc for 40 years here in Durham. I have attended all my reunions except the 55th, numerous special events including many EHS/Captains Club weekends, 100th and 125th celebrations, 100th game, and the graduations of sons Rob '84 and Charles '88. They were both sports campers and counselors so between 1981 and 1991 we made lots of visits. I have spent the night in the Residence twice -- first on a fund raising weekend when we called other parents to give to Amici, and lastly with Dennis and Leesa when our mutual friend Richard Wright was married in Charlottesville. I will always remember seeing 15,000 people at the 100th game and winning the golf tournament during our 50th reunion.

-Bob Yowell ‘54

Old and New

One of my fantasies was to try and reenact an exact picture from our 1954 Fir Tree annual where I was on the starting line waiting for the gun to go off. Thanks to the very capable alumni office staff of Teresa Tice, Travis Tysinger, and a photographer, they secured a complete track uniform even down to the correct size spikes. I changed into my borrowed tracksuit in the gym where I had changed clothes every day in the school years of ’53 and ’54. As I started down the hall to the waiting photographer to capture the exact pose at the starting line fifty years later, my mind drifted back to the good old days of fame, fortune, success, and defeat. Even wearing the more “flashy” modern track uniform made me feel fifty years younger.

-John Jordan ‘54

Shady

I was a student in Mr. Shackelford's math class in 1948. One day in class, when Mr. Shackelford had his back to the students, I threw a paper airplane out of the window. The wind blew the airplane back into the classroom, and, just as Mr. Shackelford turned around, it landed on his desk.

Mr. Shackelford asked, “Who threw this airplane up here?”

No student owned up to it. Knowing the honor system would force an honest answer if he asked each student directly, Mr. Shackelford proceeded to do so. Student after student denied taking part. Finally, when Mr. Shackelford got around to asking me, I reluctantly raised my hand, whereupon Mr. Shackelford told me to see him after class.

When I sheepishly went up after class, I tried to explain that I just sort of dropped it out the window, and had no idea that the wind would blow it back in and up to his desk, which brought forth his remark, "Well, that's a shady story if I've ever heard one!" Several of my "friends" were huddling in the doorway and giggling at the conversation that was taking place. On the way to the Walker Building for lunch, they were slapping me on the back and laughing: "That was a shady answer, Shady."

They have called me “Shady” ever since.

- Jim Eller

Educational Challenge

This story begins in June 1951. My brother Charlie was to graduate at that time, but he failed the American History Final Exam. (In those days you must pass the final exam and the course to graduate…is it the same today?) At a hastily called faculty meeting, they voted to allow Charlie and one of the Stettinius boys to retake the exam. Both passed and graduated.

My parents suggested to me that since Charlie had always had better grades, perhaps I should transfer to a less academically strenuous school. I said that I did not run from problems and wanted to stay at WFS (even though I was in the running for last in class honors.)

Fast forward two years to June 1953, my senior year. Col. Rogers and American History were in my sights. During the year I would go up to the upper reaches of the Walker Building to Col. Rogers’ apartment during “Consultation Period.” He would be lying on the couch with his bum leg elevated, listening to the radio show “Sgt. Preston of the Yukon” (“On King! On you Huskies!”) After catching the Northwest criminals, we would discuss the events covered by the class….including the nuances of each. He gave me a heightened interest in all things historical. During the review week before the exam in class, he threw out many interesting questions that might be on the exam. One of them was about racism in America. Remember, this is 1953…before Brown vs Board of Education, the 1964 Civil Rights Law, Martin Luther King, and Selma. In study the night before, I took his broad approach to all questions, and applied to this, came up with the argument that racism is part of almost all major events in American History….from Columbus to Korea.

The next day on the American history exam, Col. Rogers assigned 60 percent of the credit to the question: “Discuss racism in America.” I must have written five or six blue books on the subject. I do not know what my grade was for the test, but I passed and graduated. This incident was the first of many large challenges in my life and stands out to this day.

I always considered WFS to be the best educational time in my life. From Coach Dick in eighth grade English (where we were invited to write a paragraph every day and then correct it) to the American history story. Undergraduate engineering degree, an MBA, and a career in the coal mining business could not compare.

- White Bourland ‘53

Classes of the 60s and 70s

Role Models

I came to Woodberry from Louisville, Kentucky, in the fourth form in the fall of 1958. Little did I know then, that coming to Woodberry would prove to be transformative in my life.

I got off to a “slow” start in my first six weeks at Woodberry. My grades were barely mediocre, and I accumulated a substantial number of demerits. As I reflected on my poor results, I noted that several of my teachers seemed to be taking an active interest in my progress (or lack thereof!) In particular Joe Rowe, my dorm master and math teacher, and Jack Chapman, my English teacher, were both telling me that I could and should do better. I looked around and saw that several of my classmates I liked and admired were making more of a constructive effort than I was. I also observed that many upperclassmen I admired at a distance were both good guys and achievers, boys like Charlie Shaffer ’60, Mike Reily ’60, and Fielding Williams ’59.

As a result of the interest my teachers took in me and the influence of other students who were positive role models, I decided to put in more effort. Fortunately my increased effort produced much better grades and no demerits for the next grading period. I was gratified by the positive results, and for the rest of my time at Woodberry I put in a good effort.

As I look back on my life, going to Woodberry was a seminal time in my life. I learned the importance of effort and character. I certainly had my share of failures and setbacks, but I also learned to bounce back. I’m still learning and applying those lessons every day as I deal with problems and opportunities.

- Randy Lyon ’61

Lessons from

Mr. Marbury

During the fall term of our sixth form year, Mr. Marbury decided to read aloud to the English class what he considered a pathetically written paper. That paper was mine. I was embarrassed, and I did poorly that term. However, something clicked over Christmas vacation, and I began to free up my thinking. I did much better in the spring. However, it wasn't until Dead Poets' Society came out that I really appreciated his teaching. While not as inspirational as the great Robin Williams (RIP), I always remember Mr. Marbury in that light.

Others that I seem to have warm memories that include Mr. Holiday, Mr. Grenfell, Mr. Latham, and Col. Rogers.

- Bill Wenck ’65 and Mr. R. Marbury from the 1965 Fir Tree

Freeze Out

Hooch and I didn’t get along. By ‘Hooch’ I mean Col. Rogers, the US history teacher. Mr. Chapman and the admissions committee felt I needed summer school to prepare me for the rigors of third form. I had Hooch for literature, Mr. Dick for grammar, and Mr. Eason for math. I aced the latter two but failed literature miserably. Mr. Chapman et al. let me in anyway. I think the Col. was pissed.

As luck would have it -- or possibly as a result of Mr. Chapman’s sadistic sense of humor -- I ended up in House D, Hooch’s domain, as a fourth former. My roommate was Rawleigh W. D. Taylor III, grandson of the Taylor Hall family, and beloved by Col. Rogers. He used to remark often and annoyingly that Rawleigh was the third generation of Taylors he had the privilege of knowing. Throw up.

I’m here to tell you it was Rawleigh’s idea, not mine, that we open our two windows. We had a corner room on House D, during the dead of winter, ostensibly to fret the new boys who had to come in and wake RWDT III, up. He, not I, called it a “freeze out”.

As luck would have it again, on one of RWDT, III’s “freeze outs” the temperature dipped below into the single digits, and the pipes froze. The Col. was not amused. He never said so, but I was pretty sure he blamed me. He nursed his anger to keep it warm, and like the elephant, he never forgot.

It was RWDT III’s idea that we take Hooch’s history as fifth formers. I was against the idea but went along. Hooch mentioned daily that he (1) hated parentheses, (2) that he graded on the bell curve and (3) that he never failed a sixth former. I should have been worried: I mean I was a fifth former, I failed his Lit. class, and I froze his pipes. Sure enough, I failed US history and had to take it in summer school. Ah, but the gods smiled down on me. Hooch failed RWDT III too.

-Charles Easley ’64

Wake-Up Call

In the early 1960s Woodberry Forest School condoned mild hazing of its first year students. "New boys" were expected to wear black neck ties, avoid the grand staircase in the Walker Building, and change the sheets for prefects and monitors on their floor. The most onerous duty that new boys performed was the daily wakeup. The drill had two components: opening the door to each room at 6:30 a.m. to announce that the day had begun and calling out each minute from 7 to 7:05-- "It's seven o' two" -- to ensure that everyone made it to breakfast on time.

I spent my new boy year on C-Dorm, a long hallway of rooms on the third floor of the Walker Building, and sometime in September of 1962, my first wakeup shift rolled around. Component one passed uneventfully until I reached a room halfway down on the right side of the hall. As I opened the door, ready to announce "6:30," one of occupants was furiously cranking a metal device wired to the doorknob. The device was a dynamo intended to shock the new boy as he grasped the metal knob; the cranker was Eads Poitevent. We looked at each other. I thought, "What is he doing?" I imagine that Eads was thinking "Damn," as something had shorted the connection.

I learned that benign electrocution and greased door knobs were all part of the routine, and that life-long friendships could begin with inauspicious introductions.

- David Block ’64

Mr. Chapman’s Lessons

In the summer of 1956, I was attending WFS Summer School. I had to do well there in order to be admitted for the 1956-1957 school year.

Jack Chapman taught the summer school English grammar course. I struggled (having come from Horace Mann Junior High School in Charleston, West Virginia) but got through the course and entered Woodberry in the fall of 1956. In the report to my parents on my summer school efforts, Mr. Chapman wrote something like this: “When Don arrived at Woodberry, he knew practically no English grammar.” These were almost his exact words.

In the 1956-1957 school year, Mr. Chapman taught the fourth form English classes. When the other students and I would make an awful mistake in grammar or spelling, he would write in the margin the following: “REPREHENSIBLE” or, when it was a really bad error, he would write “MOST REPREHENSIBLE.” That sure got my attention, and I did a lot better in his course.

He was a great teacher. He enjoyed so much teaching all of us and seeing us improve as students.

To this day, whenever I proofread a legal brief or letter, I think of what he taught me and appreciate it still.

-Don McFall ’60

Dr. Norfleet and Josephine Baker

In the late 1950s there were many outstanding masters at Woodberry to whom I’m indebted, but Fillmore Norfleet’s influence was perhaps the greatest. His French class was not limited to text. We were required to go to his classroom during consultation at least once a week, and the subject under discussion could have been anything. We read Paris Match regularly. We learned about scandalous Parisian affairs; we learned about the Folies Bergère and Josephine Baker’s sensuous banana dance. We learned about the war. I can recall Dr. Norfleet describing the singing of La Marseillaise in the movie Casablanca, and I’ve never watched that scene with a dry eye and without thinking of “The Mad Doc.” When I finally arrived in Paris a year or two after leaving Woodberry, I read headlines in the newspapers, “Josephine Baker will never dance again.” I saved the paper to send to Dr. Norfleet when I returned. He wrote back to say, “Ah, Jean, if only I could have been with you so once more I could have spat in the Seine.”

- John May ’60

Dr. Fillmoore Norfleet from the 1960 Fir TreeI'm a paragraph. Click here to add your own text and edit me. I’m a great place for you to tell a story and let your users know a little more about you.

Banking on a Woodberry Connection

It was June of 1975. I had flown to Pittsburgh for a job interview with Mellon Bank. At some time I became aware that Archie K. Davis, who was the father of Heywood Davis, one of my classmates, was chairman of Wachovia Bank in Winston-Salem. During the interview I was asked for a banking reference. The only banker I knew was a guy whose title was Assistant Manager. I did not think this was what they were looking for. I remembered Mr. Davis, and so I wrote his name and title on the reference line. I told the human resources person that I would get the address for Mr. Davis the next day, figuring that I could make some calls or, if necessary, drive to Winston-Salem to see if I could get him to agree. She looked at his name and curtly advised me that they would be able to get in touch with Mr. Davis. That was the end of the interview, and I left.

When I walked out of Mellon's headquarters building, I realized I had to move fast. There were a bunch of pay phones across the street, so I went back inside, got a ten dollar roll of quarters from a teller and went back to make the call. I got the operator to get Winston-Salem information who contacted Wachovia's corporate office. I got connected to the Office of the Chairman and then found myself dealing with the Battle Ax Secretary. I asked if Mr. Davis was in. She wanted to know who I was and why I was calling. I said I had been a classmate of Heywood's at Woodberry Forest. She warmed up and said I was in luck as Mr. Davis was in. He got on the phone. I told him who I was, noting that we probably met at graduation in 1965 but that he most likely did not remember me. He said he remembered all of Heywood's friends and wanted to know what he could do for me. I told him I was interviewing for a job at Mellon in Pittsburgh and wanted to know if I could use him as a reference. He said, "Of course," and got the secretary on the phone. He said, "What is your name again, son?" I spelled it out. He said that Jim Higgins (who was the CEO at Mellon) always called him when he wanted to golf at Augusta. He said he would be glad to call Mr. Higgins.

I sighed the big sigh of relief, got a cab to the airport and flew back to Raleigh Durham. The next morning I got a call from Mellon offering me a job.

Mike Daniel ’65

Around 1964 or so...

Mr. Ermili’s little car (maybe a Simca?) was so tempting; therefore, six of us picked it up and were hauling it up the steps of the gymnasium. We planned to leave it on the basketball court. Suddenly, the dreaded Jeep appeared, driven by Addison Baker Duncan! We all dropped the car and fled. When Mr. Duncan came in the locker room looking for the miscreants, I was coming out of the shower, wet and wrapped in my towel. If the headmaster had looked at my hands, he would have seen the marks from the bumper of the car. Mr. Duncan later put up a note that stated the repair costs for the car, and the funds mysteriously appeared in envelopes shoved under ABD’s office door.

- Spencer Garrard ’65

Going home to do WHAT?

I was invited to early football in1962 just before my new boy year. After the third day of 'two-a-days' in the August sun, A. Baker Duncan got a phone call from my parents saying that I needed to come home for one night for a reason that I'll relate. ABD said 'Of course, but let's get Temple to approach the coaches.' So I told Coach Caughron that I had to go home to Baltimore for my sister's debutante party. He looked at me with a sad look in his eye and told me that I had to clear it with Coach Gillespie (the line coach and later my lacrosse coach and great friend and mentor.)

“Grassi, you're going home to do WHAT? Hell's bells! A debutante party!? You're here to play football!”

Needless to say, everything worked out, I only missed one day of practice, and I made the team! Years later, Coach Caughron told me that he wasn't too sure about working with 'prep' school kids! Well......in my three years on the football team we were 23-2-1!

-Temple Grassi ’65

Winning Streak

When Woodberry met Episcopal in The Game 1971, a great deal was on the line. The past two seasons had been uncharacteristically poor for the Tigers who had only won two and three games, respectively, in 1969 and 1970; had lost two in a row to EHS; and were now facing the High School in Alexandria for the Prep League Championship. This encounter also was the inaugural game between the two storied rivals at Hummel Bowl.

Episcopal had a senior running back, Chuck Patton, who was having an unbelievable season and only about 50 yards shy of reaching 1,000 yards. The pre-game hype coming from the EHS side of the field was that it was a foregone conclusion that Patton would more than eclipse 1,000 yards in leading the High School to victory and the coveted Prep League Championship over its biggest rival.

The first half came to a close with the Tigers leading 7-0 and putting on an impressive defensive performance. Led by Co-Captain linebacker, John Nash, Woodberry was shutting down the EHS running attack. In the locker room, the mood was quiet and somber as Coach Caughron was not a rah, rah leader, but one who calmly and sternly let you know what you needed to do and how to always conduct yourself whether on the field or life, in general. As we were about to leave the locker room for the beginning of the second half, Coach Caughron unexpectedly positioned himself in front of the door and looked straight into the eyes of every player. The moment of complete silence was only interrupted by the sound of multiple hearts pounding.

And then, he broke the silence with the following, “Men, I am so damn proud of you, now go out there and beat the hell out of them”! With that, the incredible roar (the ultimate Tiger roar) that ensued is something that I can still hear today. The team sprinted out of the locker room and the outcome was never in doubt. The Tigers scored again, shut out EHS completely, and denied Patton’s achieving a 1,000-yard rushing season. The Prep League crown was rightfully back at the Forest, the brief Episcopal two-game winning streak had ended, and this team would be the beginning of a six year win streak ( 1971-1976) over the High School which matches the 1963-1968 and the current 2008-2013 teams as the longest streak by Woodberry in the 113-year continuous rivalry. We obviously are pulling for the 2014 Tigers to eclipse this record in a few weeks!

More importantly, however, is the incredibly positive impact that Coach Caughron and Mrs. Caughron had and continue to have on the Woodberry community and the lives of thousands of young men. It was the only time I ever heard Coach Caughron use a “four-letter” word because he was a man of class, integrity, and values whose actions and quiet demeanor spoke volumes. We were blessed with other faculty, coaches, and administrators at the Forest who have also provided such a wonderful influence on our lives. This is but one of the memorable experiences at Woodberry that I was fortunate to be a part of forty-three years ago!

- Kinny Roper ’73

Coach Red Caughron during the fall of 1971, on left.

Father and Son

What a wonderful day it was for the Class of 2008! Looking on and realizing that my son had now had the same wonderful experience at Woodberry that I had had some thirty-four years prior was more than gratifying. The school had given me a wonderful education, allowed me to participate in a myriad of athletic and cultural endeavors, helped me to mature in a very profound way, and introduced me to some of my best lifelong friends. And now looking out over the crowd of orange-and-black-tie graduates, I saw my son John waving with a big smile and a cigar and an expression of accomplishment that I understood all too well. It was a very memorable day!

John Nash ’72

Classes of the 80s and 90s

Life Lessons

There are two things I learned while at Woodberry that have had truly long-lasting benefits since graduation.

At the outset of my third form year, when the first “seated dinner” assignments were posted, I found I had been selected to sit at the headmaster’s table. As if the prospect of eating dinner for two weeks with Mr. and Mrs. Wright wasn’t intimidating enough, my stress level skyrocketed at our initial dinner when we were served fried chicken and I noticed that everyone at the table was using knives and forks to eat their chicken!

Now, I wasn’t raised in a barn and my family did not come from some rural swamp where utensils were an uncommon luxury, but at home we had always simply eaten fried chicken by hand. So in order to avoid going to bed hungry that evening I had to learn on the fly how to master the fine art of eating chicken with a knife and fork. This skill I learned at WFS has spared me much public embarrassment (not to mention hunger) over the past thirty years.

The second, more important, thing I learned at WFS was how to live with roommates. I had five different roommates in my four years at Woodberry, each with their own distinct personalities, and no doubt someday each of them will be granted sainthood for having put up with me. Occupying a single room with one or more roommates teaches you patience, forces you to overcome selfishness, and highlights the importance of being respectful of others. They are lessons best learned at an early age and prove their value every day now that I am married.

- Jay Daniel '88

-Jay Daniel ’88

My First Speech

Oddly enough my first class on my first morning at Woodberry still remains my most memorable. Like any other third former, I was more scared than excited. I was already more worried about how many torches I had to make as well as their ability to endure the wrath of Jay Hardison.

Upon arriving at speech class, I quickly figured out that I was the only new boy which only made matters worse. Having grown up in large classrooms in South Carolina’s public schools, I found myself at what seemed to me to be a dining table. Mr. Shackelford was at the head. Could this really be school? I was miserable as there was no last row to hide on. After saying his hellos to those he knew (everybody but me) and introducing himself to me, Mr. Shackleford called on me to give a 3-5 minute speech.

I fumbled through whatever it was I spoke about, but one thing was certain. I’d be gone by Thanksgiving and a sweeping overhaul of the admissions process would be done to make sure clowns like me were never allowed into Woodberry again. Somehow that was not the case, and my speech at the end of the trimester on Watergate was deemed the best speech given by any of us all trimester long. I still today speak to large audiences all over the world and use now what I learned then.

I also did not make the same mistake twice. My first class on my first day at NC State was bowling. It offered a much kinder and gentler initiation into a new environment.

- Jordan Lea ’84

Trouble

Some of our fondest memories of Woodberry are those of when we barely escaped trouble. One such time, was in my fourth-form year, when my roommate decided, on a whim, to skip chapel. It wasn’t that he disliked chapel. It was just the rebellious thrill of knowing he was doing something that was against the rules that drove him to quietly creep up to B-dorm and climb into the loft above the door. Once settled into his hiding spot, he popped open a Sports Illustrated and proceeded to read the articles. Barely had he started, when he heard his door open and in walked Mr. Reimers. My roommate froze and lowered his profile. Mr. Reimers sat down in one of the comfortable chairs set up near the window, opened a book and proceeded to read for the duration of Chapel. My roommate could not cough, sneeze, breathe heavily or make any noise, lest he reveal his position. It was a torture worse than Saturday demerit study hall. Just before the end of Chapel, Mr. Reimers stood up and left the room without saying a word. The way in which Mr. Reimers dealt with this infraction of the rules, is an excellent lesson of out-of-the-box discipline. My roommate never again skipped chapel and the memory has stuck with me ever since.

- Catesby Jones ’83

St. Chris

We were Red Caughron's last undefeated team, and we reaped all the bounty of the tradition earned by his powerhouse teams of the sixties and seventies. But we almost blew it. Down in Richmond in game 7, we trailed St. Chris 3-0 in a monsoon mud bowl. When they tried a fake field goal midway through the third quarter, team captain Jay Hardison intercepted the ball and lumbered 75 yards in slow motion down their sideline for the winning touchdown. 7-0. That day, that season, the thrill of victory was ours.

- Rob Jiranek ’81

Sports Camp

My tenure at the Forest in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s was not what one would call a reason for praise or recounting. I was an average (at best) student who could have, according to most of the teachers’ comments I recently reread, given more effort. I was then, and continue to be now, very proud of the fact that I was accepted to and graduated from one of the finest college preparatory schools in the country.

To this end, I was excited when my son mentioned he would like to attend Woodberry’s three-week summer sports camp. His mother and I were quick to point out that it meant twenty-one days without mom or dad. With an ear-to-ear grin, he nodded his head and replied, “I know.” Upon retrieving him at the end of the session, he had obviously had a wonderful experience because the stories flowed like water. Over the course of the next ten to twelve months, he would occasionally mention that he would like to attend Woodberry as a student. This gave me a renewed interest in Woodberry.

The next summer, sports camp began on Father’s Day. He and I ventured back to Virginia a couple of days early as we had the prior year to play some golf. No sooner had we crossed the threshold of the entrance gates he looked at me wide-eyed and proclaimed, “Dad, I feel like I am home.” It was all I could do to contain the excitement boiling up inside. He wanted to follow in my footsteps.

Over the last three and a half years, he and I have joked that he has been ruining the Swearingen family reputation of mediocrity at the Forest by excelling. Needless to say, his mother and I are so very proud of how the young boy we sent to Woodberry has become the man that WFS expects.

As an added benefit, I have been able to renew many friendships that lay dormant for twenty-five-plus years. It is truly amazing how we have all grow up after all this time. Thank you Woodberry Forest School for all that you do for me and my family.

-Staff Swearingen ‘82

Community Rallied

One of my most enduring memories of WFS actually revolves around one of the saddest periods of my life. My older brother, Bruce, who happened to also be my best friend, was involved in a very serious automobile accident. The reason it stands out so vividly for me is how the WFS community rallied around me for support and guidance through a very emotional time.

One of my best friends’ dad, the father of Stuart Thomas ’80, flew me back and forth in his private plane from Woodberry to Greensboro three times in a week while my brother was in a coma. It was my first year playing varsity basketball, and the team was just incredibly supportive through this whole period. The real rock for me through this entire ordeal was my adviser, Nat Jobe. He had this incredible ability to know when to help and engage with me and when to back off and allow space. His great wit, compassion, and warm personality are things I will never forget. Neither will I forget the closeness of the WFS community. I really feel as though Woodberry was there for me after my brother’s death.

- “B” Hathaway ’80

Life on B3 as a fourth former...

One of my favorite new boy (4th form) year memories was life on dorm. My new boy year, the 1981 - 82 school year, I had two other new boy fourth formers as roommates, the only fourth formers on B3 that year. Early in the school year, most of the faculty (with the exception of a few masters) thought all the boys on B3 were upperclassmen. As a result, my roommates and I had more “privileges” than we should have (i.e. later TV time, later lights out, etc.). These were some of the simple pleasures that we enjoyed. As the second trimester began, the secret got out, and our “privileges” were eventually reduced to the normal ones. By this time, we had developed our routine and the reduced “privileges” really did not impact us too much.

One of the great constants in boarding school life is that bored high school boys will find innovative activities to engage in most of the time. Some of these activities are productive. Some examples of productive activities would be cleaning up one’s room, writing letters, and studying. Those activities did occur on B3 that year, and I even participated in all three activities and then some. However, it was the non-productive activities that provided the most fun and the most non-productive activity that year was Dorm Ball.

While Dorm Ball could be confused with its first cousin, Dorm Football, it was very different. One major difference was the fact that one did not need a football to play the game; in fact, using something softer was preferable as Dorm Ball involves tackling. It involves a lot of tackling and as anyone who has played football knows, a football can be quite hard when one lands directly on top of one. The teams were three to a side because more than that would have been foolish. The hallway on B3 was just too narrow for four to a side. The rules were very simple; the “ball” carrier just needed to get past the three opponents before getting body slammed into the floor, er, I mean, tackled.

My roommates and I were usually pitted against three upper classmen that lived in the two rooms directly across the hall. My roommates were fairly big guys for fourth formers; in fact, they were both on varsity that year. As it turned out, I was the only one not on varsity. One would have thought I would have seen the fix, but I was a non-varsity new boy. What did I know?

At the beginning, the “games” may have had a not-so-upstanding purpose; however, the games did evolve into a fun diversion for all the participants, including yours truly. I will not expose the names of the other “players” to protect the guilty, but we all had fun and we proved that the floors and halls of the Walker Building were, indeed, very strong.

-David Underwood '84g.

Coming from Georgia

Being from a smaller city in Georgia, my father’s parents were definitely unsure about my decision to attend boarding school. They didn’t understand why I’d want to go away to school when there were good options in our hometown. That was, of course, until they visited Woodberry in the spring of my first year. Not only were they blown away by the people and facilities, but my grandfather, a diehard golfer, couldn’t believe I was living on a Donald Ross golf course. Furthermore, he couldn’t understand why my handicap was still so high. In hindsight, I can’t either. Then again, choosing between fishing on the river, skeet shooting, eating at the Fir Tree, and playing golf every day was tough.

- Bradford Swann ’99

This Place is Amazing

For a Christmas gift last year, my parents gave me a DVD that contained videos from various parts of my childhood and teen years. One particular segment documented our first drive into Woodberry on the day I arrived as a third former in 1989. Interestingly, and no longer possible, we came by way of the hallowed bridge over the Rapidan River. I believe there may still be some questionable photographs circulating of an unnamed individual from our class dangling from said bridge. I digress.

While watching the video of us winding up the hill to the back entrance of the Walker building, with my mom filming from the back seat, I can remember thinking, “This place is amazing,” as I processed the aesthetic beauty I saw entering the campus on that first day of many at the Forest. Twenty-four years later, arriving for our reunion with my wife and seven-year-old daughter, I thought the same thing as we arrived on campus, “This place is amazing.” Some things never change.

- Bryan Rich ’93

Consistency

I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Woodberry graduates and current students from different decades and even different millennia. It’s always interesting to hear Woodberry tales from these gentlemen who were old enough to be my father or my grandfather – or young enough to be my son. While the details of the stories are always unique, one thing is striking -- the backdrop of Woodberry remains consistent.

Consistency of curriculum, character, and community all help to shape the experiences of these young men regardless of the year in which they arrive at the Walker Building to get their new boy photos taken. While the world has changed massively since the school opened in 1889, the school has wavered little in its mission. The boys are taught in small classes, required to think independently, abide by the honor system, and contribute not only to the immediate Woodberry community, but the world at large. At the entrance to the Walker Building, a plaque reads: "Let him who enters this portal as a student delay not to dedicate himself to intellectual thoroughness and moral integrity." Simple. Timeless. Necessary today more than ever.

If you eavesdrop on conversations at a reunion weekend, you will hear men fifteen or twenty years apart in age trading memories – a shared teacher or coach’s favorite catchphrase, a favorite fishing spot on the Rapidan, or the absolute certainty that Paul "The Bear" Huber knew every boy (and still does). It is both remarkable and transcendent. And consistent.

- Ed Stone ‘90

Wrestling a Girl

It was a home wrestling match against Collegiate. Going through the normal warmups, I noticed that we were getting a lot more fans for this match than normal. Something was up. As I headed back to the locker room for one last meeting, I saw all three Moubrays grinning at me. Then James reached down to me and said, “You think you’re going to lose?” Again, not having a clue what everyone was doing there, I’m then informed that I am getting ready to be the first Woodberry student to wrestle a girl ever, and her name was Sunny Collins.

You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. The gym was now packed and, at a boy’s boarding school, they were there to see a girl, especially a girl wrestling a guy. Not one of my friends was pulling for me. Sunny had the gym’s full support as she took the mat. My gut fell to the floor in a massive panic attack. I lost all knowledge of how to wrestle. Thoughts were going through my head of, “Who is this girl? She’s got to be good to have made varsity…why do I put myself in these situations…I should have done Indoor track.” Luckily, I escaped defeat and ended the match in fifteen seconds. James came down to me after the match and said, “You didn’t win in the first fifteen seconds…that is pretty much a loss.” I wrestled Sunny three more times that year and finally told her, “We have to stop meeting like this.”

-Gordo Kolb ’98

Earning the Orange and Black

I could hear the chanting and shouts coming from inside Tiger Square. One loud shout followed by a chorus of responding shouts. As a new boy being led from study hall in the dark through the gauntlet of old boys dressed in orange and black; it was intimidating. My face wasn’t painted, I didn’t have anything to show my school pride, but it didn’t matter. This was my unofficial welcome to the Woodberry culture. I had to earn the right to wear orange and black and repeat the cheers. Looking around I could see that this gathering was more than a pep rally, but a time where we would come together and show united support for our school. The wild crowd, the cry for victory, and the primal screams signified my initiation into the Woodberry brotherhood. The bond that is created at that moment transcends the school mascot, colors, and traditional cheers. It is represented in the character of each alumnus as an unwavering commitment of support for one another throughout our lives.

- Hynson Marvel ’99

Nostalgia

I distinctly remember my first return trip to Woodberry for an EHS game as an alumnus. I could see my classmates’ faces, as I can now, on almost any group of boys roaming the campus. I was jealous. I wanted to be back. Almost everything was as we had left it. Professors remembered my name, and Mrs. Rob was in the switchboard. Even the smell of the Fir Tree through the hall below Walker flooded the senses. I realized then and in subsequent visits that while I have memories of Woodberry that are triggered by stories and daydreams, nothing compares to being on campus. Every building, every smell, and every sound brings back a specific memory of one of the happiest times of my life. Being there that weekend was an overwhelming mix of nostalgia, pride, and the realization that I was old enough to miss some of the days of my youth.

Many of my greatest friends and some of life’s most important lessons were learned at Woodberry. I know that while the faces may change, what Woodberry is will not -- and I can always go back.

- John Powell ’97

Cheerleader Fire Up

I have especially fond memories of EHS games as a cheerleader -- one year, we had the game ball flown in by a sky diver, while the cheerleaders, dressed in tuxedos, rode into enemy territory on a Hummer. The next year we landed on the 50-yard line at the Forest in a helicopter (everyone except for Dave Stroud, who was sidelined after a go-kart got away from him at St. Chris a few weeks prior). He came in on a Harley Davidson, surrounded by the local hog chapter... I still have the orange jump suit we wore and like to bring it out around the middle of November every year. Fired up!

- Paul Dent ’99

Choice Remarks

When I was a fourth former, I took AP European History with Bob Smethurst. After the first marking period, Mr. Smethurst gave me some choice remarks on my report card, indicating I wasn't putting in enough effort to really master the material. I doubled down on my efforts and thanks to his encouragement and teaching, ended up doing well in the class and the AP exam. Mr. Smethurst inspired in me a love of history, leading me to major in history at UVA and to earn a Master's degree in twentieth-century history from the London School of Economics. I'm not sure I would have done any of this without that encouragement in my fourth form year.

- Thomas Hall ’98

1999-2000 CheerleadersI'm a paragraph. Click here to add your own text and edit me. I’m a great place for you to tell a story and let your users know a little more about you.

Classes of the 2000s

Roommates

Since graduating from Woodberry in 2009, I have maintained many of the close friendships that were formed during time spent in the classroom, on the field, and on dorm. Though I was lucky to attend college with some of my WFS colleagues, there were others I was only fortunate to see on a handful of occasions a year. After graduating from NC State in 2013, I moved to Washington, DC. The job offer that brought me up to DC came in part through connections from a former Woodberry graduate. I now live with two of my closest friends from Woodberry in a house in Georgetown. UNC, NC State, and UVA came back together after going their different ways in college. After four years of attending different colleges, the three of us now live together just like it was our sixth-form year on Walker dorm.

- Barrett Deacon ’09

The Woodberry Bond

Most importantly I learned friendship at Woodberry. As a Green Beret, I was always gone, and when I was not deployed, I was off preparing for our next deployment or mission. Even in this time of email, Facebook, and Twitter, I was a horrible friend to my classmates from school. I was never around and lost touch. But that didn’t stop the friends I made at school from remembering me. On May 15, 2012, I stepped on an improvised explosive device that tore off my legs and part of my right arm. My life had been turned upside down. But it was my classmates and friends from Woodberry that first helped me deal and mentally recover. Unbeknownst to me, my classmates had gotten word and started to organize support for me. Friends who I had not spoken to in over ten years were calling and emailing. Teachers, coaches, and even my old headmaster called, wrote, and came to visit me in the hospital. This outreach of support helped me deal more with the pain of losing my legs more than anything else.

- Ben Harrow ’00

A Formative Experience

I grew up as a Boy Scout in Spartanburg, South Carolina, where we were privileged to have the Appalachian Mountains so close-by. For a number of years before leaving home to attend Woodberry, I spent at least one weekend a month with my troop hiking, rock climbing, and camping in those mountains. Part of the allure of Woodberry to me was the huge amount of land available to students and outdoors activities the school provided. During my fourth-form year, I learned about the Outward Bound Scholarship that Deb Caughron ’74 was in charge of at the time. For many years I had wanted to change things up and go hiking near the Pacific coast to see a different kind of backcountry and get above the tree line. I applied for the scholarship and was excited to receive the opportunity. In July before my fifth-form year, I spent twenty-two days sea-kayaking around the San Juan Islands and backpacking the North Cascades in Washington. During the trip I learned leadership and problem-solving skills that I was able to bring back to school as well as knowledge about part of the country I had never seen before. It was one of the most memorable trips I have taken and without the support of Woodberry it wouldn’t have been possible. Thank You WFS.

- Charles Setzer ’12

A Mentor: Wallace Hornady

My Woodberry experience took my life down a unique, musical path that I never would have imagined. Upon my arrival at the Forest, I saw myself on the soccer field, the golf course, or maybe even the lacrosse team. The idea of a music-based future never crossed my mind, well, at least until I discovered the Walker Fine Arts building. The availability of music lessons, professional quality equipment and practice studios, along with the dedicated and caring faculty members I encountered there sucked me into a whole new world.

After becoming one of the guitarists for the Jazz Band, I quickly found myself spending countless hours exploring the musical potential Woodberry has to offer. During this journey, I met and befriended Wallace Hornady, who became the staple mentor of my music career. He guided me from classical composition and theory studies, all the way to recording an album with Jason Hill ’12. I was even fortunate enough to be awarded the Johnny Mercer Medal at graduation for my contribution to the music program. None of this would have been possible without the Fine Arts Center or Wallace Hornady.

Since graduation, I have found myself at Appalachian State still pursuing music. Last February, one of my two bands won the ASU Battle of the Bands and is currently finishing our first album. My progress as a musician has been a fantastic ride and it is all thanks to the opportunities Woodberry gave me. I am forever thankful.

Christian Dolan ’11

Crossing Fences

I spent an awful lot of time at the river. In the spring, allergies permitting, I probably ventured down four times per week chasing smallies with a 3wt fly rod. Picking a particular fish or an outstanding day proved too difficult, even for me, but I can’t get these two calves out of my mind. Both born late, both black, and one slightly larger than the other. I ran into them behind the old math and science building at the onset of every fishing venture. Being smaller than the rest, they had figured out how to fit under the fence and graze beyond its boundaries. At first I called the farmer with the cell phone I wasn’t supposed to have off dorm. Those calves scooted back under that barbed-wire fence well before his pickup was in sight. From then on, I knew their game. One day the charade would have to end, and the calves would be too plump to fit under the fence. But, for the better part of the spring, I grew to enjoy catching those cows on the walk down as much as the smallmouth. They broke the rules, yet never ran so far beyond the fence to make it worth the farmer’s while to chase them down. I guess those little runt calves have stuck in my mind this long for that very reason. I crossed many a fence at Woodberry, each of which has made me a better man.

- Cas Prewitt ‘12

Common Knowledge

One of my best memories from Woodberry was the time I spent with five guys making a music album. Grove Miller, Mark Peyton, Colton Soref, Matt Hammond, Michael Coleman, and I had been jamming out together in practice rooms, open mics, and art shows. Then we decided that it’d be awesome to make an album. Amidst our busy school schedules, we made time to go down to the Walker Center during breaks, after study hall, and on weekends to record, mix, and tweak songs we wrote ourselves. We sold over seventy-five copies to students, teachers, parents, and friends. We called ourselves Common Knowledge and made a name for ourselves on campus. I appreciated that Woodberry created an environment where I could spread my wings and explore my interests in music performance and recording. None of my peers outside of Woodberry could boast of such an opportunity. This is just one drop in the bucket of incredible experiences that Woodberry gave me. I consider the opportunity to attend such an institution an incredibly huge blessing, and I am deeply grateful for all who made it possible. I plan to continue supporting my beloved Alma Mater in the years to come.

- Kwadwo Som-Pimpong ‘07

Bouncing Back

My junior year, lacrosse season ended with a tough loss to St. Anne’s in the semifinals of TILT (then the state championship tournament.) We struggled to find our stride senior year. We lost eight of our first eleven contests, counting spring break scrimmage losses to teams we should’ve beaten and including a tough loss to EHS. We were not playing up to our potential, and early that spring, a few seniors began using our study hall privileges to squeeze in some extra exercise two or three nights a week. We would run to and from Taylor to the bridge in the dark, then up to the Cage, a long-demolished Quonset hut behind Hanes Field for a quick workout. The Dick Gym renovations were underway, and I suspect they moved all the old equipment down to The Cage to rust a little more before scrapping it along with the rest of the building to make room for the new squash facility.

To summarize, we worked hard on our own for a couple months because we weren’t winning. When St. Anne’s showed up at Woodberry for our first game since they ended our season, we watched them climb off their bus wearing Ray Bans and cutoff shirts, blasting some 90s music (we warmed up to Exile on Main Street). We wrecked them. We didn’t lose another game, going 12-0 and wearing the coveted TILT Championship t-shirts at the close of our Woodberry athletic careers.

- Rand Robins ’01

A Few Sentences

After underachieving academically during my underclassman years, I faced a determinative trimester during fall of my sixth form year. If my grades improved, then I would have a chance at getting into the colleges and universities at the top of my list. If they were on par with my past performances, then I would have to lower my aspirations. For some inexplicable reason, I was always intimidated by the high caliber of students and course work demonstrated through Woodberry’s tradition of “deep respect for sound scholarship.” I had advisors and coaches try to help me in those underperforming years, but somehow it was an unrecognizable trait to them, as well as myself at the time. During that determinative trimester, I was in Dr. Broaddus’s English class and exposed to a facet of modern literature that resonated with me in a way previous material had not. In her midterm comments, Dr. Broaddus remarked on how she wished that I felt comfortable enough to speak up in class since most of my comments were correct and contributory to class discussions, yet I seemed deeply hesitant to share them with the class. Those few sentences on my grade sheet provided the confidence I so needed during that crux of my life that I was able to propel myself to do well my sixth-form year and gain admission to the college where I wanted to go. That feedback was the spark of confidence that set the mechanisms in motion for me to achieve my goals. It was, in every sense, a Woodberry moment.

- Peter Wilson ’09

2000-2001 Varsity Lacrosse Schedule and

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Princeton Acceptance

My best Woodberry memory was the day I got into Princeton. It was a warm Sunday evening in April, and I was in my room getting ready to go to seated dinner. I got on my laptop, clicked on the Princeton Admissions link, and read the words, “Congratulations! You have been accepted to the Princeton University Class of 2012.” I immediately screamed to my roommate, “I just got into Princeton!” and dashed over to Walker to tell my friends. I wanted to tell everybody, but it was almost time for seated dinner.

I walked downstairs to the dining hall and waited to be let in. The dining hall staff opened the doors, and the whole school began filing in. As I walked in, I saw from the opposite end my good friend, MacGregor, sprinting toward me. He threw his arms around me, and all of my classmates swarmed us, like a home-plate celebration after a walk-off home run. Boys from all forms were patting me on the back and saying, “Way to go, Sam!”

At that moment I felt the infinite love and support of the Woodberry community. That evening the Woodberry community showed me that it has a stake in my well-being. Except for my immediate family, no community has invested itself in my future to the extent that Woodberry has. I take that investment with me wherever I go, knowing that Woodberry will always be there to share the remorse of failure and the joy of success.

- Sam Mikell ’08

The Eleventh Minute

Mr. Glover would have us warm up around the mat for eleven minutes. Eleven. He had no reason other than all the rest of the teams around the country were warming up for ten minutes. So we would just go one minute longer. It wasn't hard, but psychologically and subtly, it put us in the mindset that we were going to work just a little harder than anyone else. That has always stuck with me as well. Put in just a little extra effort, which is what that eleventh minute represented.

Taliaferro Oates ’00

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More Than a

Squash Match

We’d been preparing all week for the match up against EHS. The Woodberry squash team was up against Goliath, and we all knew it. Still, right as the first matches of the day took the courts, the Cage doors swung open and thirty of my classmates flooded the building. Short tiger echoed through the rafters as both teams gazed in awe at the oncoming mob. “Wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to watch us take on the Goons,” they all said. My roommate, Paul, led the pack over to the court where I was on deck.

As the typical warm-ups began, my opponent missed one of his own “rails” and the spectating crowd burst out in laughter. What my friends didn’t know was that the EHS player was likely destined for a scholarship to the school of his choosing, but regardless, it was about to get entertaining. Half way through the first game I lobbed a shot into the back court, too high, out. The crowd jumped up cheering, banging on the glass walls until finally realizing their mistake as I waved them off shaking my head. Next point, my opponent lunged for a drop shot and hit the tin. I spun around expecting the crowd to erupt. Nothing. I laughed to myself, it’s the thought that counts.

After a long fought battle and a rollercoaster of Woodberry chants and scolds, I came out defeated, as did our team overall. What stood out, though, wasn’t the loss, but the camaraderie and support. Few of my friends had ever seen a squash match, but all of them were there, during every point, every game in full support of their team and the extraordinary rivalry.

- Teddy Hull ’08

Faculty

Old Boys

In September 1996, fifth former Colin Brooks suffered a blood clot that required a scary midnight trip to the hospital. As his advisor, I followed the ambulance to spend what I assumed would be a couple of hours in the U.Va. emergency room. But Hurricane Fran was blowing in, and by the time we reached Charlottesville, the wind was howling, the rain was pounding, and the flooding had begun. A night in the hospital resolved Colin’s medical problem, but the school doctor told me in the morning that I was absolutely not to return my advisee to Woodberry. With bridges out and roads impassable, we would be unable to get him back to the emergency room in the event of a relapse.

So I called John Stillwell, the retired legend and my mentor, who with his wife Gay welcomed us into their home for a second night in Charlottesville. Colin slept while I dined with the Stillwells. (I had no luggage, not even a toothbrush, and was still wearing the same tee shirt and shorts I had thrown on 18 hours earlier.) At midnight, exactly 24 hours after his ordeal had begun, Colin woke up hungry. We went to the kitchen for the food that Gay had left for him, and John, hearing the noise, rose and joined us. In one of my favorite Woodberry moments, I watched John Stillwell ’45 entertain Colin Brooks ’98 with stories about the school. These two people—total strangers, half a century apart in age — had already bonded before they met: they were both Woodberry boys.

- Ted Blain

Courage in Patience

A couple of weeks ago I was waxing about all the “living” we would be doing this season, imagining the noble struggles which would summon courage and derring-do. Even within the small confines of high school sports, this is still the stuff of epics. But I am always reminded, sooner or later, that a season is more “stuff” than epic — a fact I manage always to forget in August when I am inspired by visions of grand gestures. There will be those moments, I know, but they are few and far apart. In between is the relentless routine: warm up, workout, cool down, stretch, warm up, workout, cool-down, stretch…. In between we forget instructions and lose equipment and sleep through alarms. We get bored and irked and anxious and numb. We feel sore and flat and tired. (I can’t help but think of the WWII veterans who joked that a battle was welcome relief from “hurrying up to wait” and the Civil War veterans who joked that the lice were worse than the lead.)

Sometimes I think that the great show of bravery in the big meet is easy compared to the patience it took to get there. This is, perhaps, the kind of fortitude that matters most in the end. It’s what gets the work done. Certainly there is no great ending without it. It isn't grand or epic or particularly inspiring, but it forms the blood and marrow of a season (indeed of life itself). It’s made of patience and humor and hope and friendship and duty and imagination and tiny gestures and subtle turns of heart and mind.

- Ben Hale

Junior Orange

I first came to the Forest in the fall of 2008 after 24 years at St. Anne’s-Belfield School in Charlottesville. My biggest fear in coming to Woodberry was knowing that I would be required to coach again. I knew I could be successful in the classroom, and I felt fairly confident I could learn to be a good duty master. However, I hadn’t coached anything since the early 1980s, and quite frankly, I was terrified at the prospect. I needn’t have feared. Athletic Director, John Thiel, assigned me to the Junior Orange basketball team, a group of sophomores not good enough to make the JV squad. JO proved to be an absolute blast. The guys on that team—Buckley Davis, Cody McCurry, Joe Miller, and others—told me afterwards how much they enjoyed the experience. What they don’t realize, however, is how much they helped an old man in a new job overcome some of his own insecurities. I’m grateful to them all. Thanks, guys.

- John B. Amos