Email from Steve Clarkson today 10/06/25:
“In order to finally put the phony conspiracy theories to rest, I must add following points, which many of our classmates have long known:
“On a sunny Saturday early afternoon in the Spring of 1954, Dave Moore and I were returning to our West Quad dorms after lunch at the Commons. As we crossed Rte 28 we became intrigued by the construction equipment / materials left over the weekend by the workers, in particular the sawhorses and smudge pots. It seemed simultaneously that we both broke into laughter at the thought of using both items to cause a little mischief.
“During the next few days I followed up with the idea. My roommate John Brubaker and Tony Barlow and Al Faurot across the hall in Adams gathered painting materials from the Addison for signs and hooks to move the smudge pots from the hardware store downtown. We enlisted a total of about 16 volunteers, half of which only had to do one quick job on the way back from the library at 9 pm. The rest were decoys who left at the same time. We were only allowed 7 minutes to get back to our dorms.
“A date a couple days later was set for the strike. For lack of a better idea we set the route down Hidden Road behind the Quad, which was a dead end. On the fateful night each of us did our jobs, scurried back to our rooms, and excitedly threw up the windows to see if the prank would work. The first vehicle to pull up to the sawhorse in the middle of the road, with a sign saying DETOUR with an arrow to turn right, was a large oil truck. The driver paused for a few moments that seemed to last forever. He then slowly turned right to great cheering in the dorms that he apparently could not hear. Several cars behind him dutifully followed, then a Boston-bound bus and more cars. All followed the truck around the Quad and down Hidden Road.
“Most of us then promptly jumped in bed and pretended to be sleeping until sometime later when we actually were. Of course, the next morning, we suddenly and belatedly became concerned about what could happen to us if we were found out, hopeful that we would be let off because the prank had not hurt anyone (putting aside the anger of a bunch of pissed-off passengers on the bus when it took the police almost an hour to unravel the backup). We felt some relief in that regard when we heard that English teacher Pen Hallowell, who lived in the last house at the end of Hidden Road, had broken out in great laughter as the vehicles descended on his abode.
“We heard that the faculty conducted a superficial investigation. The only name they turned up was that of Jaren Leet whose only crime was loaning us a box (in which he had just received some cookies from his mother and hence had his name on it) that we needed to put an extra arrow on. We never heard a thing from the faculty. Over 15 years later, at one of our reunions, Physics teacher Pete McKee accosted me about the incident. Since the statute of limitations was undoubtedly well past I acknowledged the above details.
“I repeat—the Class of 1954 had NOTHING to do with the incident.”
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What then of the story I pieced together from telephone interviews with Jim Liles and Dave Gunn? Was this an orchestration so vast that it enveloped extras without their being aware of it? True Andover men don’t engage in “phony conspiracy theories.” Jim and Dave are true blue. And doubtless so is Steve.
So what’s to make of the discrepancy? I have no answer except what might be inferred from the backstory on Jim’s class note that I shared with Steve. That an upperclassman was materially involved and he might still be out there, waiting for one of us – Steve? – to wring a confession out of him. Or at least one more among a growing number of confessions.
Here’s the final straw that broke Steve’s silence. The backstory that I sent when he heard about ’54 getting credit and had had enough:
“Jim Liles speculated that the instigator who asked for his help was ‘Lamontagne,’ a baseball pitcher. He wasn’t sure, though being made to repeat the ninth grade he was familiar with the class of ’54. When I ran ‘Lamontagne’ by Andover staff they came back with Ray Lamontagne class of ’53. Baseball player. I was in Stowe House ’52-’53. Since I saw the bus from Adams North the prank would have occurred fall ’53 or spring ’54. Ray could still have been involved, but I chose “upperclassman of uncertain identity” since it now seemed unlikely. Why would a graduate of ’53 still be on campus?
“You could be right that ’54 had nothing to do with it. But since ’53 was all but ruled out, and by the time we were uppers ’54 was the only other possibility, I went ahead and tied it with Jim’s ‘upperclassman’.
“Having mined Jim’s memory at length over the phone and confirmed Lamontagne’s identity and class with the school I could try contacting the alleged perpetrator himself. Or you could. Confirm that the class of ’53 put Jim up to it and I’d relay that in our next class notes. A significant correction that would gratify Fritz Allis, my American history teach
“Dave Gunn’s version over the phone was sketchier than Jim’s. He was clear that he had no awareness of Jim or an ‘upperclassman’. He had no memory of moving the detour sign. What he was clear on was it happened after the library closed and he was on his way back to his dorm across Route 28. Since Jim had mentioned ‘cones’ on the shoulder the only part Dave could have played was to move a cone or two. Jim and Ray (?) had “split and run” as soon as they saw the bus and wouldn’t have seen Dave. He wouldn’t have seen them though he did see the bus. However, he’s always been clear, since he first told me about his part way back when, that he didn’t act alone. Because, I now assume, the detour sign had already been moved.
“The detail that would appear to snatch glory from ’55 to ’54 was in Jim’s account. The instigator asked Jim to “give me a hand” moving the detour sign off the shoulder and onto the road. Where they must have pointed it down Hidden Field Road. Were it the other way around, and ‘Lamontagne’ or whoever had been deputized by Jim, we get the credit.
“Dave had no qualms about ‘trapping the bus’ or getting credit for it. Jim was conscience-stricken and remains so. He was Smokey the Bear in his formative years on the way to a career with the National Park Service. Why did he do it? He described ‘Lamontagne’ to me as a “big man on campus.” Who among us callow preppies wouldn’t want to impress a big man on campus a year ahead of us? Who could say No? I still revere the late Ed Selig, class of ’54, who could put a twelve-pound shot over 50 feet. If he’d asked me to give him a hand with anything I would have swooned at the opportunity.
“Track down Ray Lamontagne. Twist his arm and force a confession out of him. Relieve Jim’s conscience of its misery. Put an end to conjecture and you can be the hero!”
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Dave Gunn’s class note in Andover Magazine’s Summer issue elicited Jim’s note in the Fall / Winter issue. Which in turn has elicited Steve’s account. Both Jim and Steve expressed frustration with trespassers on narratives they own. But regardless of who’s defending the Truth getting at it has become a story in itself. A story of one detour after another leading us down A Streetcar Named Desire? No. Down A Road named Hidden Field.
Will Jim and Dave howl with protests of their own? Or come round to Steve’s revelation in deference to the Man? The Great Detour Ringleader.
If there’s no objection this will be shared with our classmates in the Spring issue of Andover Magazine. With a link to this post on my website. Where the watchword is All the News and Foolishness that’s Fit to Print.
Dave Harrison
Posted Monday 10/06/25