by Romilly Humphries ’48
Mr. Boyden was the headmaster. He was one of an elite group of private school leaders known as “benevolent despots.” Exeter had Perry, Choate had St. John, and Andover had Fuess. There was, however, a marked difference between Mr. Boyden and his counterparts. The other schools had rulebooks thick as yellow pages. And, if there was no one clause that could cause the dismissal of an incorrigible pupil, a headmaster could invoke the convenient charge: “Conduct unbecoming a gentleman.” Mr. Boyden’s approach was to create an atmosphere of right over wrong. If he had to expel a boy, he felt he had personally failed. He was known to give second and even third chances. The “Head,” as we called him, was diminutive. Maybe five foot five. His black hair was parted down the middle. He wore silver rimmed glasses that perched on a protruding nose. His mouth curled into the beginning of a smile; that is, until he decided that a restive student body should be silenced. Then his brow furrowed, his nose scrunched up, his eyes flared. It was the famous “Garbage Face.” Not a word was spoken. Not a sound was heard. Mr. Boyden gave every boy his grades. A master would tap you on the shoulder and march you to the headmaster’s desk, located in the main corridor of the Main School Building, where he could monitor the students passing to and from classes. The feeling was that of facing a firing squad. He would silently and deliberately study your card, and let out a sigh of exasperation giving me enough time for serious heart palpitations. “Romilly, let’s get the Latin up with the others and don’t forget to keep your head down on ground balls,” (Mr. Boyden was also our baseball coach.) Mr. Boyden loved movies. We had them every Saturday night. And we got first runs flown in from Hollywood. Jeffrey Selznick was a
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Fall 2011
Deerfield student; his father was a movie tycoon who kindly made the arrangements. As much as he loved movies, Mr. Boyden’s real passion was horses. He was frequently seen riding down Albany Road in his surrey. Belton Johnson was a classmate of mine; “B” came from the world-famous King Ranch family in Texas. Our senior year they had a dynamo racehorse named “Assault.” Belton and Mr. Boyden were excused from school one weekend to see the star performer win the Triple Crown. By and large we were a healthy undergraduate group. First, because we had minimal contact with the outside world. Second, because we got a lot of sleep. Even seniors had lights out at 10:00 pm. I once overheard an Andover coach lament, “Those Deerfield boys keep coming at you. They sleep a lot, you know.”
Deerfield Academy Archives
The Way It Was
Sixty-seven years ago I took a train to boarding school. It left me off at Deerfield Academy, nestled in the Pocumtuck Valley of Western Massachusetts. The school was the town, surrounded by potato farms. It was a great distance from anywhere.
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