Alexander Farewell Dinner
Ann and Charlie Alexander’s Retirement William Orrick ’71, P’04,’09
I
t is humbling to be asked to honor Charlie and Ann Alexander and the extraordinary service they have given to this School. I have a few words to say, but in the tradition of one of Charlie’s old colleagues in the classics department, Norris Getty, first I will tell you what I am not going to tell you. I am not going to tell you that Charlie taught me everything I know about Greek and Latin, because despite three years of Latin here I don’t know any and Charlie never taught me anyway. I will not tell you that he taught me how to block effectively, tackle ferociously, or hit a curve ball, because I did none of those things, even though I tried. I will not tell you that he lent a sympathetic ear to my plans to revolutionize the School—the estimable Jake Congleton, Frank White, and the late, great Peter Camp did that. And I will not tell you that Charlie was the last teacher hired by Endicott Peabody, because Doug Brown, the School archivist who was hired by the Rector, told me it wasn’t true. I will tell you that when I arrived at Groton School in the fall of 1967, Charlie Alexander, who was barely 30 years old, was clearly ensconced as part of the Old Guard of the School, where with white hair and lit pipe he has resided to this day. He revered Paul Wright, then the senior master. During those halcyon days of the late ’60s and the early ’70s, when the cultural revolution in America hit Groton School, Charlie was not on the side of the rebels. Nonetheless, he did serve on the committee that brought coeducation to Groton School. And he had the capacity to reach out to all of us. Chuckles, Chuck-a-buns, Chuckie A.—whatever we called him—he cared about our character and where we were going in life. He learned about us and connected, sometimes with
“This community refers to itself from time to time as “the Groton School Family”. Charlie and Ann understand that those are not just words.” a joke, sometimes a word of encouragement, and sometimes a barked order when we transgressed. And he worked really hard to get us into college, if only to get us off the campus. Ann connected with us in a different way. She was raising Beth, Sarah, Chris, and Katie, which on its own was quite a feat. She still made her influence felt around the Circle—in Dramat, the Dining Hall, the choir—because she is one of the kindest and most empathetic people I have ever met. Ann nurtured students far from home with her natural, warm, supportive self. My friendship with Ann and Charlie blossomed much later, after the death of our mutual great friend, Jack Ryan, when Sarah, my oldest child, went through Groton, and it strengthened while I served on the Board. To my delight, I found that Ann was not only the warm and kind person I recalled, but that she had fiercely
Rick Commons bestows a bound book of reflections and thanks sent by Alexander’s former students, colleagues and admirers.
held views, an occasional sharp tongue, and the capacity for deep friendship, on which I, and particularly my wife, Linie, have come to rely. Charlie was still Charlie—same caring, same jokes, same character. I should mention two unique attributes about Charlie. He is obsessed with collecting seashells. I don’t really get that, and I have nothing more to say about it. And the human connections Charlie makes and maintains are mind-blowing. To spend an evening watching the Celtics, Bruins, Patriots, or, best of all, Red Sox, with Charlie is to guarantee that the genealogies of scores of people connected in some way to independent schools, colleges, and sports will be revealed throughout the game. His passion and
William Orrick ’71 was the lead-off speaker of the night.
Quarterly September 2008
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