FWCD 50th Anniversary - September Update

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Country Daze: Memories from the Class of 1967 Dr. Bill Curtis ’67

Fort Worth Country Day opened as a pastoral haven for learning during one of the most turbulent and defining decades in American history. The 1960s were an explosion—on college campuses, in the arts, on the streets, amongst the generations and in some distant Southeast Asian country. Yet, on opening day in 1963 all this was far away. New friends and the chance to build an academic legacy lay ahead.

We joined the opening of the Fort Worth Country Day School filled with the excitement and innocence of the 1950s. We never worried much about the Cold War or nuclear holocaust, and the great challenges of the 1960s were still gestating. Astronauts had started orbiting the earth, the Russians had pulled their missiles out of Cuba, and a couple of weeks before school started a minister from Montgomery, Alabama had spoken about his dream before a lot of people at the Lincoln Memorial. Yet, as Headmaster Peter A. Schwartz recalled in his memories of the founding year, the only question we asked at a gathering of ninthgraders before opening day was whether we would field a football team. Based on our won-lost record, that was still a valid question when the Class of ’67 graduated.

Opening Day That first morning, all 210 new students and many of their parents gathered in the cafeteria, one of three buildings comprising FWCD, to officially open the first school year. Mr. Schwartz welcomed us with some inspirational remarks and then introduced Mr. Alexander Everett, a very proper Englishman who would teach us Latin and soccer, with greater success at the latter. He gave a formal introduction with a deliberate pronunciation of the five words comprising our new alma mater as if this were an event being watched globally. Goodbye Mr. Chips had arrived where the West begins.

Each morning, we would meet in the cafeteria for some spiritual inspiration and a few announcements before heading to classes. The classes our first day didn’t seem too different from those the year before Photo courtesy of Dr. Bill Curtis '67 in public schools. That would change, but not so much the first year. One big difference was uniforms. Uniforms? ... really? … in Texas? Mercifully, the words ‘nerd’, ‘geek’, and ‘dork’ had yet to enter the lexicon.

Most classes took place in what is now the Upper School Science Building, which today is expanded from its original footprint. The School comprised nine grades, 10 classrooms, 210 kids and lots of lockers. Class change 1

was an academic traffic jam where you hoped not to step on a first-grader. Thankfully all the pre-teens were removed to the new Lower School Building the following year.

The Campus In the beginning, the campus was lots of acres covered by not much. In addition to the aforementioned cafeteria and classroom buildings, there was a small administration building that housed a couple of classrooms, several offices and a makeshift bookstore. When more classrooms were needed as the student body grew, a portable building was added next to the administration building, half of which became the art center. On the hill above the three buildings was a flagpole. To its side, across a dry creek-bed, was the lone parking lot.

Enough area had been cleared down the hill from the buildings to provide a few athletic fields, although ‘cleared’ did not imply ‘de-rocked’ or covered with grass. In the middle of what passed for a football field was a wide depression with a sprinkler head in the middle that was wrapped in burlap bags during games. Rising a couple of feet in the air just off the field on the 50-yard line was a sprinkler pipe that we covered with the scorer’s table during games. Well out beyond the athletic fields was a stagnant pond that provided excellent specimens for biology classes. Most of the campus looked more like a prairie than today’s manicured landscape.

The only way onto campus was Country Day Lane which formed a loop by the three original buildings. The loop was bisected by a dry creek that ran down from the hill above the School and passed by the cafeteria on its way down to the Trinity. Before it crossed under the upper part of the loop the creek formed a deep ravine that became the perfect lunchtime hideout for upper-class smoking … until Mrs. Alann Sampson decided to find out why her history scholars so enjoyed trekking beyond the loop.

Mr. Schwartz and the Paragraph Mr. Schwartz radiated command from the day we stepped on campus.

He was never too overbearing and was always quick with a smile. Yet, his standards and expectations were high. Even so, Mr. Schwartz’s remarks on the founding of FWCD indicated that he was well aware of the wide spectrum in talent of the entering classes. His patience was often tested, but not his devotion to our growth.

During the first year, Mr. Schwartz taught Ancient History to ninthgraders. After the first test, he was dismayed with our inability to form a sensible paragraph. He expected improvement. We wondered how? After hearing his stern remarks about the King’s English, we asked if he would teach us the arcane secrets of paragraph-making. He replied, “Alright, get lunch and be back here in 20 minutes flat.” He spent the remainder of lunch at the blackboard showing us the structural elements of simple paragraphs.

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This was probably not how he envisioned spending his lunch periods when he agreed to become headmaster.

Yet he gladly accepted this chore to place another brick in the foundation of an academically elite school.

Early Academics Perhaps more than any other class, science signified that that FWCD was going to be different. Conducting and reporting experiments in science labs was new for most of us. Under Mr. Maurice Salminen biology was demanding—chemistry and physics even more so. We heated agar-agar in flasks until they exploded and had swordfights with meter sticks in physics. We developed soon-to-be obsolete skills, such as calculating with slide rules (look it up in Wikipedia). Nevertheless, Mr. Salminen sparked enough interest in science to form both a Science Club and a Pre-Med Club. With Mrs. Sharon Foster H’05 building the Middle School science program, FWCD established a pipeline for budding scientists.

Several in the Class of ’67 entered science or medical careers, and Mary McKinney ’67 was elected best fencer.

With the early inclusion of Mrs. Claire-Lise Knecht H’06 and Mr. Bob Adams on the faculty, foreign language grew from being a requirement to becoming a signature strength of FWCD. Language labs were installed in fall 1964. With little background in language training, the courses were a struggle for many in the early classes.

Photo courtesy of Dr. Bill Curtis '67 One member of the Class of ’67 set records for futility in French unmatched in FWCD history. He is currently a senior executive in a French software company.

And then there was math. Mr. Allen David Allen was a fine math teacher and a very nice person … too nice.

We put chalk dust on the white padding of his chair, placed an insect bomb in his desk drawer and threw erasers across the room while he was turned away proving theorems on the board. Nevertheless, he suffered us with a smile, especially after he became the first faculty recipient of a surprise birthday party during class. The ’new math’ was the new fad in 1963. Fortunately, it is now the long-buried old fad that forced many of us to make up at least a year of math while taking calculus in college. Perhaps we should have thrown fewer erasers.

The First Football Game Mr. Schwartz made it clear that FWCD was focused on academic excellence. Athletics would at all times be a secondary pursuit. The subordination of athletics was reinforced when we learned our locker room would be the basement underneath the cafeteria, a cavernous expanse in which we were not the only raw meat. Fortunately, midway through that first fall, FWCD constructed a small portable locker room with showers and a coach’s office just down the dry creek from the cafeteria.

After inspecting the uniforms provided by the school, several of us went out and bought our own helmets.

Since most of the team were ninth-graders, and all ninth-grade boys save one were on the team, our first game was against Forest Oak Junior High School on the east side of town. In ancient times before the advent of middle schools, junior high schools consisted of grades 7 to 9. A short mention in the Star-Telegram described this game as a “titanic defensive struggle.” Since I weighed only 125 pounds, I started the game at safety.

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Halfway through the game an injury forced me to take over at middle linebacker. A quarter later one of our defensive tackles got hurt so I moved down to tackle. When your defensive tackle weighs 125 pounds, it seems a stretch to call the game a “titanic defensive struggle.”

At the beginning of the fourth quarter, we were only down 12 to 6. Both teams sent in their second strings. We started making first downs and believing the possibility of a tie. To catch them off guard we called a reverse where the tailback fakes the ball to the fullback, then spins around and hands it to the wingback streaking past. Well the seventh-grader playing tailback faked the ball to the fullback, spun around and handed the ball to the first person streaking past, who unfortunately was the opposing defensive tackle, a chubby lad who waddled 70 yards Photo courtesy of Dr. Bill Curtis '67 to push the score to 18-6, while the rest of the team was still blocking and blocking and blocking and wondering where our wingback was. This single play best characterized our 0-3 record the first season.

With the exception of a 4-2 record our sophomore year, our results in football were dismal. Coach Don Hammer, an ordained minister, would become so frustrated with our performances that he would occasionally begin his halftime speeches by yelling, “Brethren!” Since Kent Farman’s ’67 father was a sportswriter for the Star Telegram, press reports usually cast us in a more favorable light than Coach Hammer’s halftime remarks.

Although we were small and fast, during our first three years we ran the old single wing formation (look it up in Wikipedia) best suited for large, muscular teams. Even so, fueled by the brilliance of Bill Landreth ’67 and the speed of Rick Shelton ’67 and George Kline ’67, one Friday night in Muenster, Texas we scored five touchdowns in six touches of the ball, all but one being longer than 60 yards … and still lost by 2 points. So much speed and so much promise, lost in the archaic alignments of our ancestors.

Our Worst Day

Our short first football season was now over. On the Friday before Thanksgiving, Marilyn Lewis went to hear the president speak in downtown Fort Worth. We were all jealous because she got to skip class. After morning classes we headed for lunch. A few of us who finished early were leaving the cafeteria when a mother making an early pick-up yelled at us from her car window, “Oh my God, the President has been shot!”

We gathered around her car listening to the radio and praying when the announcement came across, “President Kennedy is dead.” We stood dumbfounded, some crying, and no one knowing what to do. There are a few times when you know the truth, and can’t accept it, and pray it’s wrong, and can’t understand how it could happen, and know it won’t go 4

away, and fear something is never going to be the same. Near tears, I walked across the road, up the hill, and lowered the flag to half-mast.

A pall descended on the country. The glamour, the eloquence, the youthful exuberance that the Kennedy’s brought to the 1960s had died 35 miles away. It was the end of innocence. President Kennedy’s assassination was only the beginning of a decade that would be rocked by the civil rights movement; the war in Vietnam; two more assassinations; demonstrations and violence on college campuses; disillusionment with government; and inter-generational conflict over sex, drugs, fashion and feminism. We wouldn’t feel the full impact of these conflicts until 1968, a year after we graduated. Yet, with President Kennedy’s assassination we knew the idyllic world of our 1950s childhood was ending.

The British Are Coming! The British Are Coming!

The 1960s were not all gloom and conflict. Scientific progress exploded with the growing power of computers. The arts were bursting with creativity not seen for generations. Nowhere was this creativity more evident than in music, and, in 1964, the Beatles accomplished what had eluded the British Army for centuries— they successfully invaded America. Hair got longer, dresses got shorter, and dancing got shakier. Our own Cass Hook ’67 could pass for one of the Beatles, which stressed FWCD’s imaginary grooming code. Jane Dewell’s ’67 red Austin-Healey suggested our British affinity was more than just musical. Our immersion in Anglophilia was complete when Mr. Schwartz rejoined the teaching faculty by offering British history our senior year.

While “grease” or “cool” might have been words for the 1950s, “groovy” and “far out” were words for the 1960s. Dancing was becoming more like calisthenics. While Elvis might still be “The King,” John Lennon claimed the Beatles were more popular than Jesus. Heavy metal, acid rock, and the drug culture were off in the future.

The mid-60s were a transition between the “beat,” free-spirited generation of the ’50s and the cultural/generational conflict that tormented America after we entered college.

We watched all this at a distance on TV. We embraced the music, but we were not the rebellious sort. The Class of ‘67 was not short on strong opinions—Chip Doss ’67on conservatism, Brett Connell ’67on double standards, Greg Settle ’67 on any topic—but these were mostly grist for lunchtime debate. FWCD was secluded from much of the unrest growing in the country. We had four years to learn and enjoy being young. Times were exciting and life was good.

Read All About It The first issue of the blandly titled Ft. Worth Country Day Newspaper was published under the editorship of Cass Hook ’67 on November 27, 1963. By the second issue on December 20 it had been renamed Country Day Digest. Four issues chock-full of scintillating news, including a society column, had rolled off the mimeograph machine (look it up in Wikipedia) by April 1964.

In fall 1964, Diana Bonelli ’67 took over editorship of the student paper and changed the name to The Falcon Quill. Along with managing editors Gage Fender ’67, Dick Gibbe ’67, Harris Worcester ’67 and Jack Edmondson ’68, Diana produced three issues on glossy paper that had the feel of a real newspaper. Beginning with the 1965-66 academic year, The Falcon Quill expanded to four issues per year. Not to be outdone by the Upper School, Ms. Virginia Curtis’s 1965-66 fifth-grade class produced their own newspaper called The Falconette under the editorship of Tom Leatherbury ’73. The Falconette took a step beyond The Falcon Quill with paid ads to support class activities.

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How We Became the Falcons During the first fall, we lacked a mascot. Since Trinity Valley had chosen the Trojans as their mascot, we joked about becoming the Greeks, mythical conquerors of the Trojans. One faculty member proposed our School cheer could be, “Eeck, eeck, a Greek.” The momentum behind Hellenization soon waned.

By late fall 1963 Mr. Schwartz decided we should hold a pep rally before one of the games, and he wanted an animal present as a temporary mascot. Mike Murphy ’69 offered to bring his pet falcon. During the rally Mike’s falcon buzzed the airspace above the School and returned on command. The falcon was such a hit Mr. Schwartz decided shortly thereafter we would forevermore be the “Falcons.”

The Country Day Digest published in April 1964 displays a Falcon on the cover and calls the soccer team “the Falcons.” Murphy’s bird had started a tradition. When Diana Bonelli ’67 took over the student newspaper the following academic year she renamed it The Falcon Quill. Continuing the Falcon theme, Darcy Walker ’67 and Bill Bahan ’67 titled the first student yearbook Flight ‘67. All this begs the question, why was FWCD’s literary magazine named The Scorpion?

Thank Heavens for Soccer British Football Many of us had played YMCA-sponsored soccer in elementary school, where kicking the ball past any part of the backline scored a point, and a ball sent between two flags in the middle of the backline scored three. No longer. We now had nets and a proper British coach.

Mr. Everett imposed the old British 5-3-2-1 alignment and scolded us endlessly to hold our positions. We became as good at British football as we had been poor at American football. We had winning records our final three years and only lost one game our sophomore year. To accentuate our local version of the British invasion, Mr. Everett did not exhort us to “Score!”, but rather to, “Have it in!” And “have it in” we did, often enough to be one of the best teams in Texas.

To further complicate the nomenclature surrounding this game, under the coaching of Mrs. Royce Willey the girls played a form of British football called “speedball.” When speedball season ended, they played hockey, which looked like speedball but with a smaller ball that you whacked with a stick. Unfortunately the girl’s results our final season more resembled the boys results in American rather than British football.

Flog ’em Falcons There were several less-recognized athletic successes in the early years. On May 13, 1966 six girls forming our first swim team won FWCD’s first athletic trophy in the medley relay at the Texas State Outdoor Championships held in Burnet. As of this writing Cynthia Thomas ’67 is still winning competitions. Randy Shiner ’67, Warren Binion ’67, Andy Shields ’69, and a few others formed a winning tennis team. Olive Penn ’67 competed in barrel racing at the annual Fat Stock Show. Several in the Class of ’67 would letter in college athletics: Bill Landreth ’67, George Kline ’67, and Rob Gordon ’67 in soccer, and me in baseball.

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By our junior year, FWCD had formed a cheering squad. Nancy Mason ’67, Becky Scott ’67, Cynthia Thomas ’67, Sharon Stripling ’68, Lisa Laughlin ’69 and Gail Widmer ’69 stirred up enthusiasm among the Falcon faithful. However, I only remember hearing them once.

After I missed a tackle one of the coaches yelled, “Get with it, Curtis!” Then I heard my best friend Bill Riley’s ‘67 cheerleader girlfriend yell through a megaphone, “Get with it, Curtis!” Riley should’ve kept better control of his girlfriends.

At the pep-rally before our final game at Greenhill, six members of the football team dressed up as Greenhill cheerleaders in our version of La Cage aux Falcon. Then Philip Cranz ’67, Bill Riley ’67, Cass Hook Photo courtesy of Dr. Bill Curtis '67 ’67, and Pete Thompson ’67 performed a karate-inspired Fatman and Falcon routine. Unfortunately, we drew only enough inspiration from these performances to force a tie with Greenhill. Maybe our cheerleaders should have been yelling, “Have it in!”

The Arrival of Tawny Although the first year was academically challenging, nothing had prepared us for the year two arrival of Mr. William Skinner Kilborne, Jr. “Tawny” Kilborne had developed his own theory of English grammar, and we would be the first class forced through it. That was the easy part. English classes had usually consisted of little more than reading a few short stories, memorizing a poem, writing some short essays, and learning something about gerunds that you never remembered. Suddenly, we were reading lots of short stories and having to define, spell and use correctly every word we read unless we were reading Shakespeare. I still remember some of these valuable words such as tintinnabulation, which is one more than ninetinabulation or two times fivetinabulation.

Mr. William Skinner Kilborne, Jr. Photo courtesy of Dr. Bill Curtis '67

Compared to anything we had experienced before, English class was Dante’s Kilborne’s Inferno. We were writing 500 word themes almost weekly, and they would come back marked with hieroglyphics such as “IIQ.” Paul Stouffer ’68 ended his satire of Joyce Kilmer’s Trees in the first edition of The Scorpion, FWCD’s literary magazine with, “Essay tests I can redeem, but only God can pass a theme.” Most on the football team were hoping to catch Tawny alone behind the gym after practice someday. Yet after Tawny, term papers in college were a

breeze. Funny how that works.

Having once captained the Yale debate team to victory over the Oxford University team, Tawny decided FWCD should aspire to its own rhetorical glory. He conscripted a number of us to argue whether Truman should have fired MacArthur, whether Red China should be admitted to the United Nations, and whether pornography should be censored. The captain of the debate team developed a reputation for taking sick days to prepare his

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debate speeches. FWCD’s teams were remarkably successful, losing only one debate in two years, and that by a close split-decision.

There were lighter moments with Tawny. When we read Shakespeare aloud in class, he would stand in front of the room with a copy of the play in one hand and a copy of a book called Shakespeare’s Bawdy in the other.

Every so often, he would remark, “Well I’m certainly not going to interpret that double-entendre.” You follow much more intently when something naughty may be hidden between the lines.

Tawny’s impact ran deep and occasionally confronted us with uncomfortable changes afoot in the country.

During an English class our senior year, a classmate strongly criticized Martin Luther King, Jr. for continually stirring up trouble. When the student finished, Tawny stood silently waiting to see if anyone would respond.

After a long silence, Tawny launched into a discussion of how Dr. King was raising issues fundamental to the Bill of Rights and speaking up for people long mistreated. He ended by assailing us with, “I find it disturbing that not one of you spoke up in his defense.” I don’t know how anyone else felt, but without his using the word, I realized I had just been called a coward. The memory of this class lasted beyond all others.

Mr. Schwartz Realizes He’s Not in Kansas Anymore During our junior year Coach Hammer scheduled a football game against St. Johns School in Houston. They agreed to only play their second string and no seniors. Before the game Mr. Schwartz told us that even though FWCD deemphasized athletics, this game was important for giving us visibility among the better private schools in Texas. By the end of the first half, we were playing well and led 12-7. Not willing to lose to this upstart from Cowtown, St. Johns played some of their leviathan starting backs in the second half. The slaughter was on and we lost 27-12.

The Monday after we returned from Houston, Mr. Schwartz gathered the football team into a corner room and chewed us out for losing so badly. We tried to raise the issue of St. John’s second half ringers, but he was hearing none of it. While his criticism stung, we were quietly delighted that he finally realized FWCD was in Texas. Athletics were now in the curriculum.

FWCD Performing Arts Are Born In fall 1965, FWCD formed a Dramatics Club, which on December 17 presented FWCD’s first serious theatrical performance, A.A. Milne’s The Ugly Duckling. Budding thespians from the Class of ’67, such as Nancy Reid, Diana Bonelli and Bills Riley and myself spent a month or so rehearsing with other members of the cast and delivered a single performance in the cafeteria. The play was rolling along when the female lead, who had performed flawlessly during rehearsals, forgot one of her lines. Not a problem since throughout our rehearsals Rick Shelton ’67 hid beneath the stage with a script to whisper up forgotten lines … only he had now fallen asleep during the live performance! The two actors on stage stared nervously at each other for silent moments until Jack Edmondson ’68 uttered that immortal theatrical filler, “You don’t say!” The laughter from the audience woke Rick and the proper line rose from beneath the stage. FWCD theater was launched.

Under the direction of Mr. Tom Ryan the FWCD music program started early the first year with a Christmas concert featuring three choruses with singers from all grades. Later, Messrs. Jack White and Cleve Redus initiated a music program across the Lower and Middle schools and sponsored choirs that presented annual concerts. The Upper School formed a folk singing group our junior year. The Class of ’67 had several capable

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musicians. Dick Gibbe ’67 played a mean banjo and both Chuck Clemens ’67 and Cynthia Thomas ’67 were skilled guitarists. But without a band, Harris Worcester ’67 could find no outlet for his cornet.

From the early years the amalgamated FWCD choirs produced annual spring programs. Mr. Robert Balch directed FWCD’s boffo spring performance in 1967, For You a Song. Six footballers were shanghaied into the chorus, less because of the quality of our voices than because we were the only available options lower than tenor. We mostly rehearsed the show in segments since choirs from different grades were rarely available simultaneously. When the curtain rose and the segments were finally integrated, the three-hour length prompted The Falcon Quill to title its review, “For You A Song and A Song and A Song ….”

Y’all the People During the first Fall Mr. Schwartz established a Student Council of the Upper School. Rick Shelton ’67, Pete Thompson ’67, Gail Connell ’67, Bill Landreth’67, and others helped Mr. Schwartz keep the pulse of the student body. This arrangement gave way the second year to a Headmaster’s Council with rotating members that was primarily an advisory group that organized occasional events. During our junior year Messrs. Schwartz, Salminen and Kilborne worked with the Classes of ’67 and ‘68 to design a student government for the Upper School. The new Student Council began operation in fall 1966.

Mrs. Sampson was asked to sponsor the new Student Council and having taught us the intricacies of American governance the previous year, she decided we should have a proper constitution. Ward Howard ’67 became the first Student Council President, Rob Gordon ’67 became vice president of the senior class, and we drafted a constitution to make it all legal. The major accomplishments of the new Student Council were probably organizing dances, proms and selecting speakers for the graduation banquet. The Tea Party would love us, we established representation without taxation.

Chronic Senioritis For better or worse, the Class of 1967 were seniors for four years. Well, all except John Robinette ’66 who joined the class late with a sweet deal that let him graduate a year earlier than the rest. Johnny we hardly knew ye. Perennial seniority was a blessing in every facet of School life except athletics where for several years we were usually playing seniors from other schools. We were the guinea pigs in experiments with School policies and practices. Yet, as with most senior classes, we got away with more shenanigans than would be tolerated from lower classes.

In fall 1966, Mr. Schwartz decided we should be granted a Senior Room in the newly built Sid Richardson Gymnasium as a reward for bearing the stresses of seniority for four years. It was a haven from the boredom and incarceration of study halls. He placed strict guidelines on behaviors that were forbidden in the Senior Room. Fortunately, these guidelines were never formally extended to football and soccer trips.

Subsequent classes would be remembered for their academic, athletic or artistic prowess. Even though 10 percent of the Class of ’67 were National Merit Scholarship Finalists, we are probably better remembered as the class with a great personality. Yes, valedictorian Darcy Walker ’67 went to Wellesley College, salutatorian Harris Worcester ’67 went to Princeton University, and there were other quality colleges to which we matriculated, but laying the cornerstone of FWCD’s academic reputation would be left to future Falcons. Nevertheless these personalities thrived, becoming scientists, executives, medical professionals, judges, lawyers and the like. One of

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our original 1963 group even became a congressman, but please don’t hold it against us since he transferred out a couple of years before we graduated.

In concluding his memories on founding FWCD, Mr. Schwartz wrote, “It would be hard to assess the contribution to the School by this first class—the Class of 1967—that for four years provided student leadership, set the tone of the school in work and conduct, and set an example of meeting the new and unexpected with poise and dignity.” Wow! Forget everything I wrote before this paragraph.

On June 3, 1967, we graduated. Ahead of us lay 1968, which some journalists would describe as a “crack in time.” The Tet offensive in Vietnam, Russian tanks in Czechoslovakia, student riots at the Democratic Convention, the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy—all coming at a mind-numbing pace. Innocence was gone. What remained was how FWCD prepared us to handle it.

Remembering the First Year of Fort Worth Country Day School

Carol Jo Garvey Sweat ’70

It must have been in 1962 that I first learned about Fort Worth Country Day School. Although I am not sure of the order in which they happened, preparations to go to the new school involved visiting the site, taking an entrance exam and purchasing uniforms.

I was in fifth grade at North High Mount when my parents told me I would be going to a new school next year. As I remember it, members of my class were invited to a “Coke Party” to see where the school would be. It would be in the middle of a pasture that seemed to be a long way out of town. I had only been to that part of Fort Worth twice before, once for a birthday party at the General Dynamics Recreation Area and once with Peggy Beasley who boarded her horse and took riding lessons at nearby Cross Bar Stables. I had very little idea where I was.

At some point, other sixth-graders-to-be and I went to St. Stephen’s Presbyterian Church (I think that is where we were) to take an entrance exam. As I recall, Mrs. Olive Pelich was there to direct us. I remember a test with an answer sheet on which we filled in ovals (not the circles we were used to from public school achievement tests) with No. 2 pencils. In addition, there was a requirement to draw a human figure. Many of us who were not comfortable with our drawing skills drew stick figures. We later heard that those who graded the test were not very happy with our stick figures. Still, they accepted us as students.

Going to Fort Worth Country Day involved a trip to Cox’s Department Store to buy uniforms. Cox’s was located on the northwest corner of Camp Bowie Boulevard and Ridglea Avenue. There were options for girls: Country Day plaid or red pleated cotton skirts and (I think these were the colors) red, navy, or gray-pleated wool 10

skirts. I am not sure the A-line plaid jumpers were available at first. I think the smock plaid ones were available for smaller girls. All were worn with white ship-and-shore blouses that buttoned up the front and had short sleeves and rounded collars. As I remember it, we could wear black, brown or red leather shoes (really, red? I can hear Mr. Peter A. Schwartz saying this over and over) with white, navy or red socks. We could wear knee socks if we liked. We could wear white, navy, or red sweaters. The boys wore white Oxford cloth shirts and khaki slacks. They could wear black or brown leather shoes. In cooler months, they could wear any combination of shirts and slacks as long as they wore a tie and jacket. I also think there were navy blazers available for girls and boys.

When school at Fort Worth Country Day began in September 1963, it included grades 1-9. I was going to sixth grade, and my brother was going to fourth grade. Country Day was about seven miles away from our home. Our mother was not interested in spending her time driving to and from Country Day. Her solution was to develop a bus system. She rented a city bus, contacted Country Day families in our area (the west side of Fort Worth) to see if they were interested in bus service, collected money from those who were, and mapped out a bus route to pick up the children in the morning, deliver them to school and return them home in the afternoon.

Mother’s bus system was a huge success!

Once the children were picked up, the bus route to school was basically to go west on Camp Bowie Boulevard to the Benbrook Traffic Circle, then down what used to be Loop 820 (Southwest Boulevard).

Due to the one-way Frontage Road, we went past Country Day Lane, got off at the next exit and drove back to Country Day Lane.

Here are some other thoughts on driving to Country Day from the west side of town in 1963: There was no Hulen Street Bridge over the train tracks; there was no Guilford (now Bryant Irvin) Bridge over the train tracks; there was no four- to six-lane Bryant Irvin Road; there was no cut-through to Country Day Lane from Bryant Irvin Road. If one didn’t go the way the bus did, access to Country Day meant driving down Hulen or Horne to Vickery and going over a narrow bridge over the railroad tracks to a narrow, paved country lane. One still had to get on Loop 820, go to the next exit and return to Country Day Lane on the Frontage Road.

School began after Labor Day (as used to be the custom), went until we had Thanksgiving holiday, then on until we had a two week (I think) break at Christmas, began again in January, went until Spring Break (two weeks, if I remember correctly—this is foggy after 50 years!) in March, and finished in late May (or maybe early June). The school day started at 8:30 a.m. and ended at 4 p.m. Each day involved class time, chapel/assembly, study hall (study hall may have come later) and PE. When we arrived on campus that first day, we saw three buildings: a classroom building, an administration building and a cafeteria. They were in a row west to east. The driveway and parking area was on the south side. A covered sidewalk connected them. They were simple in design, built of reclaimed brick.

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The western-most building was the classroom building. It was basically rectangular with a pitched ceiling. There was a central hall, lined with lockers, with classrooms on the north and south. One entered and exited through doors on the east and west ends. Above the lockers, above the regular walls, the hall was partitioned from the classrooms by glass which went up to the metal roof beams. This construction left a gap at the top of the wall through which my brother and his friends became expert at flying paper airplanes. Each classroom had air conditioning—which we had never had at school before. There were also chalk boards and bulletin boards in each room. The floors were covered in linoleum tile. Our desks were different from what we had in public school. Here each student had a rectangular desk with a space for the chair on the left and space for books on the right. All the classes, grades 1-9 went to school in this building. The sixth grade had two classrooms on the north side of the building, on the east end, one closer to the middle and the other next to it to the east. I think the idea had been to have two classes of 20 students each for each grade. I think the sixth grade met that goal and might have been the only class to do so.

The administration building was the middle building. The doors were on the north and south sides of this building. It was mostly offices for Mr. Schwartz and others, but later on, the Kindergarten and library were in the western side of the building. Mr. Schwartz was our headmaster and came to us from Pembroke Country Day School in Kansas City. Pembroke was a boys’ school. My understanding is that Mr. Schwartz would have preferred Fort Worth Country Day to be a boys’ school but Trinity Valley was already in operation in Fort Worth as a boys’ school. The need was for a private school for both boys and girls.

The cafeteria was the eastern building. There were doors in and out on the west side and a great, big, open space when one went in. It was full of rectangular tables and metal folding chairs with a raised stage in the middle of the west side. The food line and kitchen were in the east end. In this building, we not only had lunch, we also had chapel/assembly (at 10 a.m., I think; chapel consisted of Bible verses, a short sermon, the singing of hymns and prayer) and study hall (as I have said, study hall in the cafeteria may have come later).

Mrs. Virginia Curtis was the homeroom teacher in the sixth-grade class that I was in; Mr. Richard Dickinson was the home room teacher for the other class. Coming into class that first day, I found many other students who had been at North High Mount and also lots of students who came from other elementary schools. The practice for our grade was for the students to remain in the classroom and for the teachers to move from room to room. Our subjects were: English, French, mathematics, geography, science, art, music, and PE. My recollection is that most periods lasted for 45 minutes. We did not have bells or buzzers sound when it was time to change class; the teachers just kept track of the time.

Another difference from what we were used to at public school was that at Country Day, we purchased our textbooks. In public school, we used books from the school that we needed to keep in as pristine a condition as we could so that they could be passed along to next year’s students. With book ownership, we were now able to mark in our books. We could write our names in the books; we could underline, bracket and take notes in the margins; we could draw pictures; we could doodle. They were ours!

Mrs. Curtis taught English. She was very nice, firm and helpful. We read short stories, which we learned to summarize in three sentences, we learned grammar and spelling, and we diagramed sentences. As our homeroom teacher, she was in charge of how the room was arranged. Most of the time, she placed her desk in the middle with all the students’ desks arranged so that they made a large rectangle.

Mr. Dickinson taught French. Since he was English, we became used to a new accent. He came in and began in French: “c’est” this and “c’est” that. He would point so we would begin to associate the word with 12

what it meant. I did not know if “c’est” was something in French or if he was saying “say.” It did not matter: We repeated what he said. Despite or maybe because of his somewhat dark sense of humor, we adored him.

Mr. James Bronston was our math teacher. He came from Chicago, but he was fascinated with Texas ways, which included wearing cowboy boots with his suits. Although I remember learning about integers, fractions, positive and negative numbers, set theory, unions and intersecting sets, etc., that may have been the next year. I do know that Mr. Bronston was the one who introduced me to the fact that mathematics consists of arithmetic, algebra, geometry, and calculus. Who knew? Okay, maybe Bob Clemen ’70, Rex Holsapple ’70, David Renaud ’70 or Jamie Jennings ’70 knew, but I did not. All I knew was arithmetic. I think arithmetic was what we had in sixth grade, too. I remember a particular book, the one we used for homework. Miracle of miracles, the answers were in the back of the book!

Miss Bedford, young, dynamic and enthusiastic, taught geography. I remember maps of Europe and Asia where we identified cities and mountains and rivers, etc. I liked doing the maps. Miss Bedford expected a lot out of us, and she inspired me to do my very best.

For science, we had Mr. Don Hammer. He was also a Baptist minister who conducted many of our chapel devotions. In addition to teaching and preaching, Mr. Hammer was also the football coach. Mr. Hammer was one of the nicest people ever. He was incredibly patient with me, trying to get me to pay attention, to understand, to learn how to approach science and how to write a proper paper. The first astronauts were the subjects of our research papers. Mr. Hammer instructed us in how to do research and introduced us to the practice of using an outline. My paper was about Scott Carpenter.

Our art teacher was Mrs. A.T. Clemen. The only thing I remember doing in sixth-grade art was making a printing block out of vinyl by gouging out lines. Then we used the blocks to print our own Christmas cards.

Mr. Jack Noble White was the music teacher. Even though I do not remember very much about music class, I remember learning songs from popular musicals like Oklahoma! and The Sound of Music.

Girls’ PE was conducted by Mrs. Ben T. Willey. To the north of the classroom building were two rough, slightly sloping playing fields. I have years and years of memories of girls playing field hockey and speed ball on the eastern field and of boys playing football and soccer on the western one. Eventually we had locker rooms in temporary buildings to the northeast of the administration building. We did not have a gym.

At the end of the school day, we had to clean up the classrooms. Teachers developed rotation systems to select the two students needed each day for each room. I remember vividly Mr. Alexander Everett instructing us in the proper way to sweep the floor, showing us the proper angle to hold the dust pan when sweeping up the dirt. Our beloved custodian swept the hallway.

There are a few other notable things I can think of to mention about that year. The one that came first is the day President John F. Kennedy was shot. On that day, we were called to assembly in the cafeteria building at an unusual time. We were puzzled at being called into assembly at that time. And we were stunned and saddened when Mr. Schwartz told us the news. The president had just been in Fort Worth the day before.

Terrible.

Another memorable time was when Mrs. Willey, our PE teacher, took six of us on a ski trip to Ruidoso, New Mexico. I think it was during our Christmas vacation. Martha Schutts ’70, Kit Tennison ’70, Jamie Jennings ’70, Peggy Beasley ’70, Ellen Leonard ’70 and I were the ones who went, along with Mrs. Willey’s cat(s)—there 13

may have been two. It was the first time I (and I think any of us) had traveled with cats. But we had a great trip!

We stayed at a house in town and each day drove the winding way up the mountain to the ski area. Skis, boots and bindings were different from what we use today. It took lessons and a lot of falls, but we learned to ski, and we learned to ride a T-lift. In addition, Mrs. Willey insisted on having us learn how to wax skis.

And the third memorable thing that happened that year I can sum up in two words: The Beatles!

For me, going to Country Day changed my life and changed it for the better. I was inspired and challenged to learn and to participate. It was stimulating to be around people who had a range of talents whether academic, creative, organizational, athletic or whatever.

At this new school, because there was no past, there were no traditions or customs or anything already in place. We had the opportunity to start from scratch, and each and every person contributed in some way. We started the newspaper, the literary magazine, the yearbook, the academic records, the sports records (Cynthia Thomas ’70, earned our first trophy—for swimming) and so on. We laid the foundation on which the students, faculty and administration of Country Day continue to build.

While it is all well and good to highlight my specific memories, accurate or not, of buildings, faculty, courses, etc., I cannot conclude without mentioning the people who are actually responsible for founding our school. In September 1963, a new mix of students, teachers, and administrators came together at a new school.

How did this happen? Why? It happened because of parents who wanted a better education for their children. It was the foresight, planning, determination and commitment of our parents that made this school possible that made a dream into reality. (Thank you, Daddy.)

Faculty Memories Claire-Lise Knecht H’06

My adventure with Fort Worth Country Day School began in 1962 when Mrs. Nancy Lee Bass suggested that Mr. Peter A. Schwartz contact me for an interview. She had met my husband, John Knecht through TCU where she was auditing a French class. I went to meet Mr. Schwartz at his home on Simondale Drive. The conversation was rather interesting due to my broken English and the help of my husband as a translator. Mr. Schwartz convinced me that I should accept a position as a French teacher in a school that, at the time, existed only on paper. His words were: “Hiring you will assure me that no English will be spoken in the classroom, and that is exactly what I want!” Mr. Schwartz was so confident that I decided to accept the challenge. And here I was, transported from Europe to Texas, trying to learn a new language and adapt to a different culture. I was a stranger in a totally different environment, placed in a brand new school and charged with establishing a French curriculum. I felt overwhelmed, to say the least, and really challenged.

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Three lonely buildings existed on the original 55 acres of land that had been made available for the use of the school when we started classes. Classrooms were small and few students were in attendance.

One of my memories of that first week of the school is still vivid in my mind. Mrs. Mildred Landis, the secondgrade teacher, surprised me by saying that a few ladies from the Board would be in my class that day. The last row of desks was, in fact, occupied by Mrs. Nancy Lee Bass H’98, Mrs. George Ann Carter Bahan, Mrs. Priscilla Holland Johnston, Mrs. Betty Claire Dupree McKnight, and a few other mothers. At that time, this unexpected audience was not only challenging but intimidating. However, I soon learned how kind and supportive all these ladies would be in helping me build a strong French program at Fort Worth Country Day. Their encouragement and help through the years was invaluable.

As the School grew, other opportunities came about. The idea of establishing a Student Exchange Program was presented, and I became the American Field Service (AFS) adviser for Country Day. In 1970, we hosted our first foreign student, Corina Cramer from Germany. Thirty more foreign students followed. Funds to help sustain the program and provide for expenses incurred by the guest student were raised by the American Field Service Birthday Cake Baking and Deliveries Club, headquartered in my classroom! AFS Club members baked cakes, brought them to my room in the morning, decorated them and then delivered them to the recipients in the cafeteria at lunch time. Who could forget the panic because we had forgotten someone or when we realized, all of a sudden, that we were out of icing and there was no time to run to the store? Some days, my classroom looked more like a bakery than a learning center! But those were really fun days, and that program was indeed beneficial to the School. It certainly proved to be a valuable experience for the young foreigners who were treated to a new cultural experience in an outstanding school where classmates accepted them with open arms and included them in all school activities. Over the years, several of these young people have come back to visit, and some still keep in touch with their exchange families and with me.

In time, language students and their parents suggested that we explore the possibility of study and travel abroad. After some investigating, my husband and I organized and directed trips to Europe. We conducted 10 consecutive trips throughout the 1970s and marvel at the memories created through these experiences. Oh what excitement we shared as we invaded hotels in the foreign countries we visited. It is hard to forget, and fun to remember, the mischievous imagination of boys who found nothing better to do than to organize a soccer game using cantaloupes for balls in the halls of a hotel or the prank of ducks set loose in girls’ rooms and the ensuing wild chase with disastrous results for the beautiful white marble floor of our Roman residence. Even our hosts, the nuns who witnessed the event, were amused and, believe it or not, they invited us to return the next year. Those trips were fun and at the same time culturally enriching, great learning experiences for all involved.

On a more personal note, I must say that Fort Worth Country Day enriched my life and the lives of my entire family. Our three daughters—Muriel Knecht Parnell ’78, Myriam Knecht Graham ’81 and Anne-Lise Knecht Woods ’85—attended the FWCD from kindergarten through 12th grade and two of our grandchildren, Brennan ’17 and Noah ’19—are now privileged to be enrolled here. Anne-Lise also teaches sixth-grade English in the Mason Middle School, and we remain involved in the life of the School. I volunteer in Archival Research along with the late Mrs. Jean Webb H’01 and Mrs. Jody Price and enjoy subbing for teachers who need a break now and then.

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Having seen it from its first days, I am truly delighted to see the remarkable progress Fort Worth Country Day has made in the 50 years that I have been associated with the School. The excellence we strived for in the beginning is still a priority and has indeed become a reality. The faculty is outstanding and the support from the Board and the community is exceptional. What an accomplishment!

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