To my PA ’55 long-suffering classmates,
“Long-suffering” because we’ve all waited patiently for 71 years to hear the story of The Great Route 28 Detour Caper only to hear it in pieces and the pieces don’t fit. I’m referring to Dave Gunn’s recollection that appeared in the Summer issue; Jim Liles’ in the Fall / Winter Class Notes I’ve posted it on my website; and now Steve Clarkson’s that blows the lid off city hall. The ‘breaking story’ I’ve entitled “Down a Road Named Hidden Field” you’ll also find on my website.
I would love to do a Walter Winchell and stoke a feud to attract readers. Get my own table at Sherman Billingsley’s Stork Club, a Sunday night broadcast to “Mr. and Mrs. North America and all the ships at sea,” and an invitation to the White House. But I’ve resisted the temptation. Appealing, instead, to the good will and common sense of the pranksters to settle their differences among themselves. To give us the truth – without fearing retribution from Justice or worse: a demerit!
Here’s what I’ve just written to Mssrs. Clarkson, Liles, and Gunn, minus their contact information:
“All things are possible from the right perspective. Wisdom from the pulpit at Cochran Chapel that could help solve our dilemma as we deal with a wayward bus. Perspectives that seem at variance while, having made history, our class goes about writing it. The history, of course, of The Great Route 28 Detour Caper.
“More mischief making? Or a case of actors in a drama so vast in scope that one isn’t aware of the other. If the latter you could co-author a note after getting your heads together. I would put it into my website for immediate consumption and later into the Spring issue of Andover Magazine. Where PA ’55 would be the envy of every other class for sheer effrontery: daring the authorities to expel half the class for a prank worth a thousand demerits.
“Do you understand what you accomplished? I could have been kicked out for quietly chewing on a candy bar I’d bought at the Andover Inn before taking my seat at afternoon Chapel. Caught in the act only because I was in the last row where overzealous faculty, a new guy, could spot my heinous infraction. Get caught doing that again six times and back home I go! While all the perpetrators of the most outrageous prank in campus history get is a chuckle from Pen Hallowell. And a farce of an ‘investigation’ that turns up Diu Leet’s cookie tin. Gimme a break!
“Here’s your contact information. . . Talk to one another and get back to me. Don’t leave it to the uncertain talents of a class secretary for note-taking and interpretation to speak for you!
“The choice is to ensure that PA ’55’s crowning achievement earns admiration for perfect execution and getting away with it by settling your differences among yourselves. Or to open it to ridicule for Three Stooges dysfunction. With another choice: callously disregard my suggestion or let Hallowe’en spirit our memories — or us — all away first. To our crypts before any of our voices can be heard. Before the sacred trust of the wayward bus driver and his passengers’ sacrifice can be honored. Sent to an uncertain fate down Hidden Field Road for the sake of a laugh.
“What Pen Hallowell witnessed was stagecraft that required planning and execution. A Vaudeville act that earned a laugh because that’s what it was for. Nobody wants a class secretary’s opinion, but I thought it was hilarious. Let the hilarity live on in the pages of Andover Magazine and my website as it deserves. Play it for laughs!”
Will they listen? They who think nothing of having a good laugh at others’ expense? Should we bet on it?
Having fun (at others’ expense),
Dave Harrison, PA ’55 class secretary
At Your Service