In Memoriam | As We Remember I N
M E M O R I A M
After Mark graduated I only saw him at reunions, Martin Luther King Day, and Alumni Game Days. Fortunately, Mark was the kind of friend it did not take long to connect with again. I know his death came as a real shock to his formmates, and the outpouring of grief that followed is not surprising. I was unable to attend his memorial service so I can only guess what was said, and along with the inauguration of our new president which is taking place whilst I write this, makes me very nervous about doing justice to Mark’s memory. However, what comforts me are my many memories of this great young man and somehow I can hear him saying “Relax, Coach, everything is going to be just fine.” God bless you, Mark. Jake Congleton faculty member from 1957-1995
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think there were only six new boys in our fourth form class: me, Arnoldo Beadle, Clint Winters, Stephen Lewis, Andrew Greene, and Tommy Nichols. All the girls were new, so they were the focal point of everyone’s attention and they were having a unifying experience. The boys had been together for the previous year or two, so they were familiar and unified. As a new boy, feeling marginalized, I took to going over to the new student center when it was open and watching the social buzz alone from a distance. Remember that grill with French fries and snacks? Mark Griffith was the only one who approached me and introduced himself and engaged me in conversation. He was full of energy and enthusiasm, with a huge smile, a big handshake, and a warm, friendly demeanor. I know he understood what it meant to be an outsider at Groton. He was both fearless and without agenda socially, an unusual combination in high school. His kindness in those early months meant a lot to me. I learned about George Clinton and Bootsy Collins from Mark. I remember listening to Parliament’s “Mothership Connection” album in the third floor room he shared with James Young ’78 in Bannard’s dorm sixth form year. It was an epiphany to a rhythmically challenged Dead Head like myself. I’ve seen many Parliament shows since then, and I still crank up “Flashlight” at earsplitting volume for my kids when we want to get down. Mark had the funk and he showed it to me. Spring semester of sixth form year, after I returned from my stint working oilrigs over winter term, Mark and I hung out periodically, usually over a relaxing herbal tonic in my room. There was a mutual respect and a shared sense of having outgrown the place, and I remember talking excitedly about the future—life after Groton. From what I can tell, he carried that smile and ebullience throughout his life. I’m sorry I won’t catch it again. Tom McGlade
58 | Quarterly Spring 2009
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iven that I roomed with Mark fifth form year and that I played football and basketball with him for several years, it is odd that we did not really stay in contact after graduating. In January 1995, Jake Congleton’s last year at Groton, however, team members from the ’76-’77 basketball team returned for the alumni basketball game. Along with myself and Mark, James Young ’78, Sam Watkins ’77, Steve Brock ’77, Rob Southworth ’77 and Fred Wappler ’77 also returned. Needless to say we defeated that current Groton team handily. The weekend culminated in a dinner for Jake at the Foxes’. We were all there with our families, who were by this time very bored with all of our “locker room stories.” I remember that Mark was as usual laughing and talking loudly with that unabashed smile. He was always the life of the party. We all said at that time that we would make more of an effort to keep in touch. That was the last time I saw him. When I think of my experiences with Mark, it is so easy to see why he was so loved by his friends and colleagues. He was a genuine, hardworking professional who enjoyed life to the fullest. The world is a less lively place without him. Clint Winters
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ark’s destiny brought him to the Groton community. It must have been quite a challenge then to be an AfricanAmerican student arriving in one of the land’s most reputable institutions. Never in the four years we shared with him did we feel Mark’s anguish to be one of Groton’s finest. Mark’s presence during classes or playing around the Circle brought comfort to me; always jovial and sincere with me, he helped me understand America, its meaning, its complexity, its aspirations. Always diplomatic and moderate in his reactions, he understood better than any of us that difference, that larger gap between cultures. From my distant France, I can claim to have witnessed the “Dream” in the making. Thank you, Mark. Christopher Booth
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es, like perhaps most of us, the first thing I recall about Griff is the big smile, the great laugh, and those jumping thighs. But it’s the second thing I recall that really sticks with me: Lake Romayne...Joe Broyles...a giant ant hill...Mark and I earnestly watching those ants come and go as we practiced being lab partners and scientists. No only was he a great running back and basketball player, but he was a pretty impressive observer and reporter, even way back then. It’s not everyone who makes such a lasting impression! Matt Reynolds