A Personal Reunion
I hadn’t visited Exeter in almost thirty years, but the day I chose to make my return showed the school in all of its glory. Somewhat later than usual, the fall colors had waited until the last week of October to explode into their glorious finery. The majestic oaks and maples kept most of their leaves, while carpeting the tired lawns in every shade of yellow, red and brown. Of course, standing firm amidst the autumn colors, the stoic brick-and- white-trim edifices of the Academy, resisting all implication of change.
It was a quick trip up from the Boston area, with my wife and father. He hadn’t been to Exeter since my graduation in June of 1968. The ceremonies were held on the lawn in front of the Academy Building. Dean Acheson, former Secretary of State and grandfather of one of my graduating class, spoke in anachronistic terms about a world he no longer recognized. A more indelible memory was the loss the day before of a man who might have led our country forward.
During the last part of my senior year, I was heavily involved in politics. Ten days before the New Hampshire primary, Allard Lowenstein had come to town and instigated a McCarthy-for-President campaign. I was one of the student leaders of the effort that covered most of Southeastern New Hampshire. On election day, McCarthy trounced Lyndon Johnson in Exeter, polling 42% statewide, and helped to push the incumbent out of the race.
What also helped was the announcement by Robert F. Kennedy that he would seek the White House. Many McCarthy supporters resented Kennedy’s late entrance. We didn’t acknowledge then that McCarthy was unelectable.
In early June, days before we were to graduate, California held its primary, I got special permission from my dorm master to stay up late and watch the returns. I tuned out at midnight when it looked like Kennedy had beaten McCarthy.
The next morning, my roommate asked me if I had heard about Kennedy. Yeah, he won, I said resignedly. He was shot, he told me. Kennedy died two days later. Today, more than three decades after his death, I don’t think we’ve yet come to grips with the true loss. At the time, it created a pall over our leaving Exeter. As did the continuing horror in Vietnam.
I was glad to be evacuating the Exeter cocoon. Looking back on those critical years, I very much appreciate what I learned, if I didn’t always appreciate the learning itself.
Exeter has much to offer in carrying forward traditions, but it also needs to teach public leadership. For if we don’t have the highest quality of leaders, then our future will die before us like the autumn leaves.
And that’s SetonnoteS...I’m Tony Seton.
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