John Driscoll '62 is a fixture at Wesleyan. He can often be found walking the campus, chatting with people as he goes, and sharing stories about Wesleyan to all he meets. Follow as John shares some of his fondest memories and relates some tales during this celebration year.

Jan 09, 2007
Norm and Jerry

Wesleyan and the University of Michigan have many ties. The most numerous and appropriate are undoubtedly in scholarship: some key Wesleyan faculty have come from Michigan, and a number of talented Wesleyan alumni are tenured at the U of M. There are also some good sports stories. One of the best known is Wesleyan's unblemished record against the mighty Wolverines in football. We played them in 1883, somehow won 14-6 and, thank God, left it at that. Less known is our equal "domination" in baseball; our only game, a 6-3 win, came during a spring training trip to Florida in the early '60s. The chances of Wesleyan granting a rematch in either sport range from slim to none.

Another good story comes to mind with the recent death of President Gerald R. Ford. Most news accounts note the president's three years as a star center on the Michigan football team. Some Wesleyan people also know he had been preceded at Michigan three years earlier by a modest young man who, for many years, would stand as the only Wolverine to have garnered nine varsity letters (three each in baseball, basketball and football [all-American]), the maximum number possible in an era that excluded freshman from varsity play. That great Michigan athlete was Norman J. Daniels.

Coach Daniels, now approaching his 100th birthday, started a Wesleyan career in 1934 that spanned four decades, coaching various sports (principally baseball and football) highlighted by three straight undefeated football seasons right after World War II. Ford's and Daniels' paths crossed briefly as Ford started at Michigan in 1931, and Daniels completed his legendary career there. They touched again in the East in the mid '30s, the two participating in a monthly card group, as Ford coached some football at Yale while attending its law school, and Daniels began his 39-year coaching career at Wesleyan.

Fast forward to 1975: Wesleyan's Coach Daniels was a beloved emeritus member of the Wesleyan community, known for his undefeated football teams, but esteemed as much for his unfailing sportsmanship, integrity and concern for players and the true value of "play." Gerald Ford was President of the United States.

William N. "Hawk" Walker '60, director of the White House's Presidential Personnel Office and later U.S. Trade Representative, had been a talented outfielder on one of Coach Daniels' good Wesleyan baseball teams. At the same time, Col. Americo "Ric" Sardo '52, who played football for Daniels, was Marine Corps Aide to the President. Knowing the NCAA Coaches Convention was soon to convene in Washington, Walker and Sardo asked the President if he might like to see Michigan's then-football coach "Bo" Schembechler and Wesleyan's Norm Daniels while the two were in town for the convention. The President concurred and the date was set.

On the appointed day, Schembechler and Daniels waited in a private room at the hotel hosting the convention. At the scheduled moment, a door opened and the President came came in. Daniels' spontaneous greeting outraced the moment's protocol as he chimed, "Well, hello, Jerry!" only to catch himself, "...I mean, Mr. President." "No, no, Norm...," countered the President, "I will always be 'Jerry' to you."

Some time later, Coach Daniels and his wife "Okla" were preparing to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. After some deliberation, they sent an invitation to former President and Mrs. Ford, knowing it was unlikely they could attend. Just before the anniversary, a message of regret arrived sharing good wishes and noting humorously the complications the Secret Service might have visited upon the party had they come. It was signed "Jerry and Betty." The quality and tone of that note typified the correspondence punctuating Ford's and Daniels' friendship over the years.

In recent ceremonies, speakers eulogized President Ford as a thoroughly "decent man." As kids we get used to saying, "It takes one to know one." This Wesleyan-Michigan connection sustained by Norm and Jerry would surely seem to buttress that old saw.

Post Script: Norm's later colleague at Wesleyan, Elmer Swanson, was no athletic slouch at Ann Arbor either, with Michigan letters in baseball and track.

Sep 05, 2006
Wesleyan in the Summer

When I was a student in the late 50's and early 60's, I didn't particularly like being on the campus for those relatively few stops I made. It was as though you weren't supposed to be there. Maybe because nobody else was; at least it seemed that way. Everything was closed, except for the Chi Psi house where Al Erda and I might climb in a fire escape window for a night's sleep at the beginning or end of a summer road trip. During the day it was hot, unlike anything we experienced in Middletown during the school year. There was shade and some coolness from the magnificent elms that covered the green, but nothing seemed to move. The cicadas were loud, adding to the hot stillness. This was not the Wesleyan we knew and loved as students. None of the guys were here, nor the faculty and administrators either. We didn't usually stay long.

How different 45 years later. After living in Middletown for 25 years, it has become my "home town", or pretty much so. Now the quiet is a welcome break from the intensity of the academic year and the pace the students invariably set when they are here. Maybe it is the difference between the "snapshot" we got as young visitors stopping by, and the more representative "video" you get living here. Certainly Wesleyan is quieter during the summer, leaving North Field free for leisurely golf shots, but in recent years there is more and more going on. Aided by the great facilities at the Freeman Athletic Center and renovated Clark Hall (read air-conditioned), Wesleyan coaches run summer camps for high school athletes in football, basketball and lacrosse; there are ongoing swimming competitions; the Center for Creative Youth draws talented youngsters to music, theater, studio arts and writing; and the Center for the Arts runs a summer long programs of outstanding cultural events. In addition, the Admission Office hosts countless daily visitors.

Living on campus, there is also the pleasure of seeing the increased number of undergraduates who stay on campus, many of them working with faculty on research, or with different departments to make some money for the coming year. It not only seems more lively; Wesleyan IS more lively in the summer.

But, as more familiar faces show up in late August, you realize the summer is short. The kids are coming back and with them, the reasons for being here.

Jun 28, 2006
Willie

This last Commencement weekend, I was, for some still mysterious reason, asked to address the initiation of Phi Beta Kappa. The whole thing was, and remains, a bit of a mismatch between this very average student and the top 12% of Wesleyan's academic leaders. I share portions of the talk here because this "column" is for the most part about snippets of history as I have seen it, and my address drew upon a man who helped make Wesleyan special in his time.

When I think of the Phi Beta Kappa key, I am reminded immediately of the late William Kerr, who was for many years the President of Wesleyan's chapter. It is said he and Aaron Burr were the only two persons in the history of Princeton to have received straight A's throughout their undergraduate years.

He graced Wesleyan from 1959 until his untimely death in 1999 and during that time students, faculty, trustees and Presidents knew and loved him simply as "Willie". In his early years here Wesleyan was smaller; 800 students, all male (sadly); almost all in fraternities and their eating clubs. Willie knew or was known by most students, and because he was provost and Secretary of the University for many years, he also knew generations of faculty. A medieval and renaissance historian by trade, he seemed to know the intimate histories of every French and English monarch, and of all the Popes as well. He applied that same clarity and recall to Wesleyan history. He was a walking Wesleyan archive. He also had a prodigious command of the English language and handled challenging words with disarming ease. Faculty colleagues were sure he sprinkled his reports with words he knew would send them scurrying for dictionaries later to find out what he had really said.

And there was more. At Willie's memorial service, his friend and colleague, Dr. Philippa Coughlin cited (and I paraphrase) his sense of humor; his capacity for profound friendship; his ability to really love other people's children; and, finally, his ability to give himself completely to a moment." To say, "This looks like fun.....I'll join you."

If Wesleyan had a Mr. Chips, it was Willie. He almost always wore a suit from a slightly earlier style, usually with a vest and his ubiquitous Phi Beta Kappa key.

One of my favorite "Willie stories" involves Rusty Hardin, a southern lad from the class of '64,'65 or '66, depending on how you count. Quite intelligent and now a colorful trial lawyer in Houston, Rusty was less than disciplined in his studies, and an easy mark for any distraction, especially an argument. By the time of this story, Hardin had failed to graduate in two previous attempts. On this third try, he had one course, indeed, one paper left to get his diploma. It was a paper being done for the enthusiastic Spanish Prof. Juan Roura-Parella.

Mindful of Rusty's already extended Wesleyan career, then President Victor Butterfield called a meeting that included Prof. Juan Roura, Dean Mark Barlow, and Willie Kerr. President Butterfield summarized what they all felt. They loved Rusty dearly, but it was time for him to graduate.

As the end of the semester approached, Prof. Juan Roura called Rusty in and reminded him that he needed a paper. Rusty said he knew that and that he was working on it, and, indeed, was quite excited about it. Juan Roura said he just needed a paper. Rusty continued to enthuse about some unspecified masterpiece that made the late effort well worth it. Wagging his finger, Juan Roura repeated that he just needed a paper, emphasizing slowly that ANY paper would do. Despite these clear suggestions that the fix was in, Rusty worked late into the final night outside Willie's office in North College. He wrote while Willie Kerr typed the meager product from Hardin's pen.

In the morning, just before the faculty was to vote on degrees, President Butterfield asked Dean Barlow how Rusty's last course was going. The Dean went over to Willie Kerr's office only to find the two companions fast asleep, Rusty stretched out on the floor amid crumpled pages, and Willie's head in the typewriter cradle. Noticing the two typed pages next to Willie and a sheet sticking out of the typewriter, the Dean grabbed them, stepped around and over the sleeping literary giants and took the scraps directly to Juan Roura. With nary a glance and a quick sweep of the pen, the good professor marked a bold "C", propelling Hardin to Denison Terrace and graduation at last.

The main message of my talk was, in short, "smart with heart". That was Willie. I keep his voice among my saved phone messages. I know there are countless stories about Willie Kerr and I hope more come to light during the 175th Anniversary year.

Jun 06, 2006
D-Day

June 6th, D-Day. Sixty-one years ago, American and Allied forces waded ashore in Normandy, France. I was 5 years old that day and didn't know anything. But by the time I was 10, I knew more. I could read and the New York Times and other papers gave any reader a steady diet of the war well after it was over. I knew the names of Omaha, Utah, Gold and Juno beaches, even if I didn't know the units that landed on them. The black and white pictures showed the grim conditions: the weather, the tides, the obstacles and the dead. Later we could appreciate the massive German fortifications, and much later, the Longest Day, Saving Private Ryan and Band of Brothers would bring to life the savage sharpness that took so many and made unwilling heroes of the survivors.

I didn't know I knew one of them until much later. Nathan Gabriel, "Mr. Gabriel," was my French teacher in high school. Always well dressed, short and non-athletic, he was my favorite teacher. I liked French, but that wasn't why. It was more likely the by-play. Everybody seemed to like him, but he had a special penchant for the jocks and trouble-makers. Mild-mannered, he could play us like harps. He was smarter, funnier and definitely in control, but gently so.

I stayed in touch with Mr. Gabriel after high school and college, and returning from my first trip to Paris proudly wrote him a postcard in fractured French. He continued teaching, but in different towns, happily close enough to attend our 5-year reunions. He never married and in his later years lived with and took care of his mother. Some guys wondered about that. I guess I did, too, but by the time the question dawned on me, it didn't make much difference.

I learned of his death from classmates who called my attention to the NY Times obituary. Mr. Gabriel died in Normandy, visiting the beaches and cemeteries during a reunion with other surviving buddies. It was the first any of us knew he had served in the Army during the war, much less on D-Day. He never said a word. How easy it would have been to use that experience to put us in our places, but he was too big for that. He was a gentle man; for me, a great man. He was a hero, and perhaps it was fitting for him to die among so many of the other heroes he had left in France years earlier.

Nathan Gabriel's goodness was multiplied in his comrades on June 6th and later, convincing me something Mighty energized our cause in those hard days.

God bless you and your friends, Mr. Gabriel, and thank you!

May 24, 2006
Mt. Vernon Street

Mt. Vernon Street is special to me for several reasons. It is one of the most beautiful residential streets in Middletown, an opinion held widely in the city, regardless of Wesleyan affiliation. It was a key part of the after dinner walks Bob Wielde and I used to take in the late '50s and early '60s following the evening meal at the Lodge. On my return to Wesleyan in 1982 as Alumni Director, Gina and I spent two years in 125 Mt. Vernon Street (right next to the Mocon driveway). Various housing moves after that found us eventually coming back several years ago to 158 Mt. Vernon, known before us as "Annie Dillard's House," but known to me as "the Crampton House." During my undergraduate years Dr. Claire B. Crampton MD '36 was the College Physician, and he and his wife Charlotte raised their family in 158, a house into which Charlotte herself had been born. Following my graduation in 1962, I took a year off "to think about my future." I had a job with the CSS shuffling papers, but I needed a place to live. The Cramptons had a furnished room in the attic that they let me use for minimal work in their kitchen. It is a frequent joy living in Mt. Vernon Street.

But there is another reason I love the street. Trolley cars! Yep, trolley cars used to run up and down Mt. Vernon Street. I first heard that in the early '80s from Frank Vanderbruk '27. He told Dick Huddleston and me that when he was attending Wesleyan in the mid '20s, he would commute each day to Wesleyan from New Britain by trolley car, taking it "up Mt. Vernon Street." Frank didn't give many more details but I harbored the thought happily until last January when I had the privilege of "interviewing" Ms. Barbara Wriston, the older sister of the late Walter Wriston '41. Barbara spent early years in Middletown the late '20s and early '30's. We had a great time exploring her memories of the campus and the city. Without prompting she reported walking out of the family house on Wyllys Avenue (next to Skull and Serpent) and up to the corner to Mt. Vernon Street "...where the trollies ran." Most recently, a senior Middletown friend, Paul Rasch, also talked about the Middletown trolley system and he was able to outline much of the route.

When the trollies ran here, Mt. Vernon Street ran all the way across the base of Foss Hill and met Cross Street at the intersection of Pine. The trolley ran up Mt. Vernon, across what is now Foss Hill and Andrus, and down Pine Street a ways where there was a terminal. The cars would simply reverse direction and travel north on Mt. Vernon. At the bottom of that gentle grade, the car would turn right on Washington Terrace (parallel to Washington Street). Very quickly it would turn left on what is now Veterans Way, cross Washington and proceed briefly before turning right (east) on Lincoln Street and going to High St., taking a left to go north on High to Grand St. where it would turn right and proceed to Main Street. The trollies were a regular part of Main Street, heading out Hartford Ave. in the north end, and going out South Main Street to an amusement park at the south end of Ridge Road.

When I think of how great San Francisco is with trollies and cable cars, I can't help thinking Middletown and Wesleyan might take a giant step forward by taking a few steps back to a trolley revival. I can almost see it on Mt. Vernon Street again.

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