st. george’s school
// SUMMER 2019
Law in Dallas, and then Stu and Whitney loving their new life in Denver. Everyone is happy thriving ... we’ll take it! Hi to all! Anybody coming through Boston, please give us a shout. Peace and carry on.” ■ Frank Campion writes: “I showed a selection of paintings large and small in a group show at the Long View Gallery in Washington, D.C., in January/February and that was quite an experience. I am talking to them now about maybe doing a solo show in 2020. Unfortunately, my gallery in Charlotte, North Carolina, closed so I am still casting about for representation there as well as anywhere else that will have me. All suggestion/recommendations welcome. Now for a moment of shameless self-promotion: you can see my work at frankcampionart.com.” ■ Andrew Botsford and his partner Lulie were here for a wonderful Thanksgiving feast and I see Chris O’Neill around town every once in a while. ■ Aforementioned Botsford presented a “Shakespeare Sampler” in Southampton, New York, earlier this year working with another actor to present sonnets, soliloquies, and scenes. Unfortunately, his role as Portia in “The Merchant of Venice,” which earned him much acclaim in the fall of 1964 at SG, playing opposite Bob Edgar ’65 as Shylock, was not included. He also opens May 23 as Elyot in the Hampton Theatre Company production of Noel Coward’s “Private Lives,” in Quogue, New York. ■ David Halwig is newly added as an adjunct to the faculty of George Mason University and just completed his first cohort on Enterprise Risk Management for a bunch of Chief Risk Officers from around the country. “Guess it was a success — no protests, no picket lines, no banners, no walk-outs. They let me live to teach another day.” ■ Bill Campbell and Bowdy Brown got together for a glorious dinner atop the Detroit Athletic Club overlooking the Detroit Tigers playing the Oakland A’s while reminiscing about school days flying to Providence with buddy Jack Barthwell ’68 and Bill’s brothers, Harry ’66 and Tom ’70. There was the time we climbed up onto the wings and into a minuscule plane in Providence holding the pilot to fly to Middletown to save cab fare. Very scenic, very nervous, landed in a cornfield more or less, only to then have to call a cab to SG. ■ Here is a small update from Tom
CLASS OF 1969, 50TH REUNION Back row: Peter Cannon, James Mainzer, Peter Smith, Peter Moore, Graham Fitzsimons, Francis Hubbard, Harrison Reynolds. Front row: Charles Spalding, John Hartnett, Cater Monroe, Sylvester Monroe, Peter Bippart, Christopher Holleman, Malcolm Wells Haskell. Not in photo, but also at reunion: Howard Balloch, Jay Coogan, Miguel De Braganza, Robert Ducommun, Robert Fardelmann, Web Golinkin, David Pascone, and Taylor Pyne.
Cummins: “We spent most of December and New Year’s in Cusco with the family, a true joy. But there also was a true a moment of pause trying to explain the baby and crucified Jesus to my grandchildren. We will be in Paris all of May as I am again giving lectures at L’Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Science Sociales, which is great as I can’t even pronounce it, and I never passed French, Latin, or Spanish or much else for that matter at SG. No harm, no foul. Loved seeing everyone last year but all too briefly.” ■ Stephen Schmidt writes: “I have been busy being a laboratory specimen rat for medical treatments for the Big C prognosis. As they say in Bavaria, ‘Let’s have a look and then maybe we’ll see.’ We’re working on a complete cure, or at least a nice long lease on life, which meant spending half my time in bed (reading, of course) and the other half on the couch (also reading) for weeks with no hair. Mornings I would drag myself to the couch, and evenings I was back in bed again. But I am doing much better now; I even managed to chop the wood I needed for the winter, and slowly my old energy is returning. As soon as I could stand up after half a year, it was off to home in Italy. The view of my neighborhood from
across the lake on the Isola Bella is the same as a painting, which hangs in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C. It is so beautiful over here (and I haven’t even started on Italian cooking yet) that sometimes I think I have already died and gone to heaven. (But it looks like I will be sticking around to torment my fellow humans a while longer.) On the Lago Maggiore, we have the places where Queen Victoria and Giuseppe Verdi, not to mention Toscanini, used to stay from back in the days when the Orient Express went from the Simplon Pass through Stresa on its way to Milan. Now the divorced wife of Berlusconi, Veronica, (alimony ca.€300 million, although the courts have juggled that figure around a couple of times in order to eke out revenge for Berlusconi having had the mafia murder a Milan judge to get his media business set up) lives across the lake from us. Things are a lot cheaper on our side, but at least in our little port of Caldé we have the Sunset Bar with its collection of many of the best wines produced in Italy. And the view, of course, can’t be beat at sunset — nomen est omen. Virtual hugs and embraces all around; I really missed you all at the 50th last year and I look forward to the