Blue for Life Tom Beaton ’73 I loved my dad. I loved my mom. I loved Xavier. I still love Andover.
Scott Mead ’73
Forty-five years ago, I was a 9th-grader at Xavier High School, a Jesuit school near Boston. I was doing well in the classroom and on the playing fields. Father Phil Moriarty, my mentor, once told me I was a “rising star.” Life at home, in contrast, was out of control. Both Mom and Dad were abusive alcoholics. Dad had gone off the deep end after his small business went bankrupt in the mid-1960s, disappearing for days and weeks on end on some kind of bender, resurfacing only when the Boston police found him in an alley and dropped him off at our front door. Mom worked part-time as a school secretary and went straight for the Manhattans when she got home. Welfare, workfare—whatever they called it—was new to us.
I was the youngest of three boys. My oldest brother, Danny, had recently escaped to college. My other brother, Mark, played in a rock band and was captain of two teams at our public high school. But he was really struggling academically and at home. I was still an altar boy. I was kind of old for that sort of thing, but church and Xavier were places where goodness and hope reigned. Father Moriarty said Mass every week at my church and was my Latin teacher. He knew all about the broken arms and legs, the black eyes, and the witch’s brew of personalities that terrorized our home almost every night. He knew that I always went to bed with my pillow wrapped tightly around my head. At our All-School Meeting in March 1970, Xavier’s headmaster announced that the Jesuits had been called to serve needier students somewhere else, or something like that. He shocked us by declaring that our school would close in June. In April 1970, probably long after Andover’s admissions department had sent out its thin and thick envelopes, I was somehow transported to the movie set that was the Phillips Academy campus and met with Mr. Sides, the director of admissions. He seemed to know everything about me before I spoke. Had Father Moriarty given him a heads-up? A week later, I received a nifty little envelope in the mail. In it, Mr. Sides wrote simply, “Tom: We would like you to join us in the fall. We hope that Andover will be your cup of tea.” I had never seen anyone drink tea but figured I was in. In a separate, more formal letter to my parents, Mr. Sides informed them that Andover would award me full financial aid. Free. Free education, free room and board, and free from the craziness. Like Danny, I made my own escape from home. I arrived at Andover in September 1970 with a backpack stuffed with regular clothes—without fancy logos—and an encouraging note from Father Moriarty. These days, my best Andover friend likes to say that looking back he thought I was some kind of rich snob because it took months before I looked up and said hello to anyone at PA. Truth is, I really struggled socially and academically as a lower. I kept my head down, simply trying to fit in. I deflected any questions about my background. At night, I eventually stopped wrapping my pillow around my ears.
“He knew all about the broken arms and legs, the black eyes, and the witch’s brew of personalities that terrorized our home almost every night. He knew that I always went to bed with my pillow wrapped tightly around my head.”
But I was wracked with guilt about leaving vulnerable Mark behind. Dad appeared a few times on campus, including at my senior-year game against Exeter, when, on a dark November day, he stood watch like a scarecrow. Two months later, the police discovered him, homeless and dead, near Boston’s South Station. No one could ever replace Father Moriarty, or the sober side of Dad and Mom. But the Andover family gave me invaluable support. Today, a lot of people refer to the Andover of the early ’70s as the “dark days,” but for me, especially after my lower year, those days were very sunny. If I was never a “rising star,” like I was at Xavier, I nonetheless did pretty well. Above all, I became more comfortable with my real identity. And eventually I slept well at night. Andover gave me stability, support, self-confidence, an incredible education, and an everrenewing array of friends “from every quarter.” Scott Mead ’73
I’m Blue for life. Trustee and Alumni Council President Tom Beaton lives in Charlestown, Mass., with his wife of 35 years, Gale. Their two children are pursuing their dreams at start-ups in California. Tom is managing director of Next Step, LLC.
Andover | Spring 2015
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