50th Reunion
November 20, 2019
What are the experiences/lessons of a Williams College education from 1967-1971 that continue to engage the mind with regret and/or satisfaction? I have two.
When Frank Thoms, the College’s Athletic Director (1968), chose to replace the outgoing head coach of the football program with a candidate from the coaching staff at Ohio State, a Division I powerhouse, some questioned the “out of character” hire. It was not only the distinct difference in the caliber of football between Ohio State and Williams, but the perceived alignment with a coaching staff’s creed that enabled athletes to travel a path to football professionalism through an “academic lite” structure versus a route through the chemistry lab to a liberal arts education. This creed, although operating at a low level at Williams, tore at the program.
What strikes me about my experience as the captain of the 1970 football team is the subtle way national and collegiate events influenced foundational elements forming the concept of a team. This included: trust in and allegiance to one’s coaches and their position of authority, trust in one’s teammates’ commitment and a shared belief in the sanctity of the definition of the student athlete. Campus backlash against authority figures prosecuting the Vietnam War and Black protests for greater cultural and academic presence fractured a series of beliefs. Within that environment distrust found ample targets. Elements of disrespect by teammates and some alumni, although not prevalent, festered to impact the atmosphere by the time of our Senior year.
The fractures on the football team were certainly evident to me and certainly to the Administration. I knew of the Administration’s awareness when toward the middle of the season I was picked up after practice at the Cole Field House by Frank Thoms and driven to Berkshire House for dinner. This was a consistent occurrence on a weekly basis when I was interviewed for information regarding the coaching staff, my teammates and a general gathering of information for him to assess the tenor of and problems with the program. I found this to be unsettling as protecting loyalties to teammates, the coaching staff and the program itself necessitated discretion without losing my sense of honesty and integrity. I felt the weight of responsibility and even more so when the season ended and a two-hour session with President Sawyer left me aware of my part in an eventual firing of the head coach.
I came to understand the uncontrollable environment at the time and make peace with the actions of teammates, coaches and the Administration, all influenced by a national, gradual descent into a state of disorder. My early regret regarding an inability as the captain to create a more cohesive experience between athlete and coach continues to recede as we approach our 50th reunion.
When I think of where within the Williams education I find an experience of lasting impact, I note it had nothing to do with the discipline of a major, a high profile professor or a campus society, but rather exposure to an under the radar personality and a chance topic for Winter Study. “It’s like the camel that’s carrying a 500 pound load, what’s a few more tin cups.” This was the response of Professor Larry Beals, when after procrastinating till the last week of registration for Winter Study without any idea of what to pursue, I asked him if two of us could study the writings of William James and would he sanction it with the Registrar.
Not yet appreciating the magnitude of the author’s mind, I spent that winter largely in Stowe, VT skiing and reading some of James’ prolific writings. I remember writing a paper on the “Dilemma of Determinism”, a short article James penned regarding free will. There was nothing stellar about my paper, but the introduction to James and some of the “big” philosophic questions surrounding the human condition continues to be a part of my intellectual conversation and interest.
And, this conversation often includes a classmate with as much interest in the “big” questions as my own, who once gave a graduation address at the University of Vermont Medical School with the subject, “Is Compassion Innate?” We have disagreements over the answer to this question, but it is in the formulation of one’s arguments while relying on one’s experiences that is the hallmark of continuing education.
Professor Beals discussed the idea of continuing education during a tutorial I was taking on James. He was pensive and graduation addresses came up as a vocal forum. He mused about the subject he would address should he be asked to give such to a Williams’ class. His viewpoint was a combination of sagacity and opinion on the educational march of an individual post Williams. His theme was tethered to the responsibility of the Williams grad to continue to pursue issues, reading and other forms of endeavor that augmented the Williams experience. This was not necessarily for the common good, but as a bastion against what he considered would be a waste of a Williams College experience.
This exposure to Beals and James, a spontaneous decision more truthfully an attempt to skirt academic difficulty, has led to readings and exposures not only to William James, but a host of other notables that were part of James’ fertile, concentric, intellectual circle.