Phillips Exeter Academy

5 questions for Lamont Poet A.E. Stallings

Big Red rolls over rivals in E/A

Championship hardware and the color red swarming Andover; that is how the most anticipated sports weekend on the fall calendar unfolded Saturday.

Exeter cross country continued its run of dominance at the New England Interscholastic Championships, while another chapter in the historic rivalry between Exeter and Andover concluded with a trio of victories for Big Red.

The Exeter boys varsity cross country teams continued its unprecedented run by capturing a third consecutive Division I title — and sixth in the last 10 years — at Interschols at St. Paul’s. Exeter had the first four runners cross the line in a dominating performance. Byron Grevious ‘24 led the way with his second straight individual title with a course-record time of 15 minutes, 35 seconds. Max Lacombe ‘24 (16:30), Oliver Brandes ‘23 (16:33), and Mateo Bango ‘23 (16:36) followed for Big Red.

The boys JV cross country team extended its own dominant streak and captured its seventh straight JV championship. Owen Dudley ’23 (17:55) and Michael Zhu ’24 (17:50) placed second and third, respectively, while Big Red had six others finish inside the top 10.

The girls varsity cross country team also enjoyed a great day of success and placed second overall. Tenley Nelson ’24 claimed third place overall with a time of 19:36. Daria Ivanova ‘24 (20:02) placed sixth, while Annika Finelli ’24 (21:21) also earned All-New England status with a 16th place finish.

The girls JV program put together a top performance and earned its second straight JV championship. Hawley Dick ‘25 earned individual champion honors with a time of 22:14 while Emerson Seymour ‘26 (22:25), Tiffany Sun ’26 (22:28) and Leta Griffith ’24 (22:31) joined her in the top five.

In other Interschol action, boys varsity water polo earned a 14-11 victory over Williston in the opening round before falling to Greenwich Country Day, 13-9. Exeter will compete in the third-place match on Sunday morning.

Back in Andover, Big Red girls volleyball capped a perfect 14-0 regular season with a 3-1 (25-9, 25-14, 23-25, 25-22) victory over the Blue. Exeter jumped out to a quick 2-0 match lead before Andover earned a hard-fought third set. Exeter staved off a late Andover push in the fourth to cap the win with a 25-22 fourth-set victory. Sofia Morais ’23 and Coco Barton ’23 were solid for Big Red, who will await their postseason opponent for a Wednesday matchup.

On the pitch, it was the Blue who capitalized on their scoring chances by potting one in the first half and three in the second to take a 4-0 girls varsity soccer win. Bridgette Martin ’23 made several saves in goal for Big Red; Esme Shields ’24 was strong in the middle of the field.

Andover struck first in field hockey with a goal in the opening five minutes. Exeter would even the score at 1-1 when Eloise Goedkoop ’23 found the back of the net. Andover would take a 2-1 edge into halftime after capitalizing on a corner before adding a pair in the second half to earn a 4-1 win.

Big Red boys soccer scored the lone goal of the game in the first half when Thaniel Illuzzi ’23 headed in a beautiful cross from Jaylen Bennett ’25 to earn a 1-0 victory. Trevor Piltch ’23 was outstanding in goal, making several key stops including a diving stop with just three minutes to play.

Football capped E/A weekend in emphatic fashion, earning its second straight victory over the Blue by a score of 42-7 in the 138th meeting between the foes.

Andover held a 7-6 lead and was driving in the final minute of the first half before Tommy Dunn ’23 picked off a pass and ran it back to the 20 yard line. Big Red would take advantage of the field position and reclaim a lead they would never give back when Tristan Aboud ’23 scored on a quarterback keeper to give Exeter a 14-6 lead at the break.

The second half was all Exeter, as it scored 28 unanswered points. Running back Xaviah Bascon ’23 scored four touchdowns for Big Red, while Aboud ran for one and threw another to Dylan Almeyda ’23.

The victory capped a 7-1 season for Big Red, who closed the deficit in the all-time series against Andover to 55-73-10.

Artists share joy for discovery

Exeter artists and modern language learners alike were the beneficiaries of artists in residences in October when Japanese artists Takuya and Minami Yoshida visited campus.

The duo spent time with art students in visits to painting, drawing and ceramics classes as well as students studying Japanese language and culture.

Their appearance was sponsored by the Michael Clark Rockefeller Class of 1956 Visiting Artist Fund. The fund provides opportunities for Exeter art students to interact with significant, contemporary artists and create unique works of art in a master-class environment.

Takuya Yoshida, is a painter who uses expressionistic qualities and bright, inventive colors that are derived from the raw beauty of the natural world. He started studying art in New Hampshire at Plymouth State University and received a bachelor’s in fine arts, and then went on to graduate school at New York Studio School and received a master’s in painting.

Minami Yoshida is a sculptor. Her works celebrate the essence of models whom she knows and sculpts. Her figurative forms are abstracted by simplifying the details and textures. These abstractions tend to exude more humanistic and emotional qualities. She is heavily influenced by the Superflat Art Movement and artists such as Yoshimoto Nara and the ancient ceramics has been showing her artwork all around Japan since then. She received her undergraduate degree at Tokyo Zokei University in 2016.

Neuroscientist addresses assembly

Any process of transformation — from social change movements to new approaches in medicine — begins with agitation, neuroscience researcher Khalid Shah told students in the Assembly Hall on Friday. “If you want to bring a change, you need to be agitated in your mind, which will lead to the innovation,” Shah said. “That innovation will ultimately be the change.”

As the vice chair of research for the department of neurosurgery and director of The Center for Stem Cell and Translational Immunotherapy at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, Shah leads a team that is pioneering targeted, cell-based therapies for brain cancers. He is also a professor at Harvard Medical School.

Townley Chisholm, instructor in the Science Department, introduced Shah in assembly and welcomed him for a visit to his BIO510: Advanced Biology class earlier on Friday morning. “For over 10 years, [Dr. Shah] has invited groups of students from PEA to visit his lab in Boston and to talk with his researchers…who come from all over the world for the chance to work in his lab on paradigm-shifting ways to use the newest technologies to cure otherwise untreatable cancer.”

About seven or eight years ago, Shah explained in his assembly talk, he and his team began questioning the way doctors were treating glioblastoma, a lethal form of brain cancer. For the past 20 years, the treatment options have remained the same: Patients get surgery to remove the tumor, followed by chemotherapy, radiation or both.

“Although we’ve had a number of clinical trials with different drugs…nothing really has changed,” Shah said. He added that the blood-brain barrier, an additional layer of protective coating on the blood vessels in the brain, also make it more difficult for drugs used to treat cancer to get inside the brain to work effectively.

To challenge the status quo, Shah and his team looked to medical innovations from the past, notably the insights that led to the first safe vaccines to treat previously deadly diseases like smallpox in the 18th century. “It started with something really basic: that we use disease to kill disease,” Shah said.

By design, cancer cells leave the original tumor en masse and metastasize to other parts of the body. But they also tend to migrate back to the original tumor — a feature that is key to Shah’s team’s experimental therapy. Using the powerful gene-editing technology known as CRISPR (Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats), they engineered repurposed cancer cells that seek out and attack cells in the original tumor.

“You make them therapy resistant and then you actually also put a kill switch in it, and it kills the original cell,” Shah said. He used images of vivid red and green cells resembling abstract paintings to illustrate the process on the Assembly Hall stage.

The treatment, known as therapeutic tumor cells (ThTCs) has so far been tested on mice, with positive results. “We see a huge survival benefit in animals, and hopefully in humans in coming years,” Shah said. He and his team have more recently been working on engineering the tumor cells to also include cells that spur an immune response, increasing their disease-fighting potential.  

“Once the tumor is gone, you’re vaccinated from further tumors to come — that’s the big picture,” Shah said near the end of his talk, adding that the gut microbiome also plays an important role in the effectiveness of immunotherapy in cancer treatment.

In addition to sharing the thought processes behind his pathbreaking work, Shah offered words of advice — and encouragement — to future scientists in the Assembly Hall audience. He emphasized the value of collaboration, both inside the lab and with scientists of different disciplines: “You need one or two good innovative ideas to make the difference, but…if you don’t have a structure, anything you bring in that is unique [is] not going to go that far.”

“In all of us, there is an innovator lying somewhere,” Shah concluded. “You just have to figure out which domain excites you the most.” 

Feeling at home

I remember well the day I moved into Dunbar Hall as a new lower in 1968, with not much more than a single duffel bag and a lacrosse stick in my hands. I had never lived away from home, so naturally I found myself wondering what the other students would be like and how I would fit in. My room was sparsely furnished, and my few possessions did not do much to fill it up, nor take long to unpack. Then I was on my own.

I could not have been happier. I was at Exeter. Friendships quickly formed, and with the support of the proctors and faculty who lived there, Dunbar soon became my home away from home. Sure, the seniors looked impossibly old to me, and I wasn’t ready to join the fierce four square battles that played out in front of the dorm each evening, but I found my friends among the other new lowers, and felt that I could not have been assigned to a better dorm. In fact, like most students, I was certain I was in the best dorm on campus.

Fast-forward 50-plus years, and I now have the privilege of doing dorm duty in Wentworth Hall, and the pleasure of seeing firsthand how the important work of faculty, proctors and student listeners continues to foster community today. The day student affiliate program extends this sense of dorm pride and belonging to non-boarders, integrating them into the school more completely, including as proctors in our dorms.

At Exeter, all four classes live together, and most students remain in the same dorm for their entire time at the Academy. Proctors and student listeners return to campus early each fall to be trained for their responsibilities, and the mentoring that occurs between older and younger students is important to the personal development of both. A strong sense of belonging for every student in the dorm is central to creating a strong sense of belonging to the school as a whole, and it is not surprising that our alumni typically identify first with their class year, and second with their dorm.

This fall, we celebrate the opening of the first new dorm on campus since 1969. It’s a multipurpose building that houses 60 students and five resident faculty, as well as an academic space with four Harkness classrooms and a department meeting room for our Health and Human Development Department. The building also frames a spacious lawn with two other dorms, creating an exciting new community space on campus.

To ensure the best possible residential experience for our students, and to attract and retain the finest faculty, it is essential that we continually renovate our dorms in line with the latest principles of accessibility and sustainable construction. Outfitted with geothermal heating and cooling, the new dorm is a testament to that commitment. It will be used to house students from Merrill and Langdell Halls as we embark on the renewal of those historic dorms and the construction of an expansive new dining complex on the site of Wetherell Dining Hall.

In the opening paragraph of our Deed of Gift, John and Elizabeth Phillips expressed their belief that “the time of youth is the important period.” Indeed, it is a time to learn about one’s self and develop a sense of purpose and identity, and to consider one’s place in the larger whole. Our residential programs are an essential component of this process at Exeter, and they are critical to our mission to unite goodness and knowledge and inspire youth from every quarter to lead purposeful lives.

Editor’s Note: This article first appeared in the fall 2022 issue of The Exeter Bulletin.

Welcome to New Hall

Move-in day falls on a sunny Wednesday in early September. All over campus, welcome signs decorate open dormitory doors and chalk-drawn arrows point the way inside. Students lug crates and drag suitcases along the pathways, taking frequent breaks to hug friends and compare summers.

A bit of extra excitement fills the air, along with the smell of fresh paint, as students and their families make their way down Front Street and enter the newly constructed 42,000-square-foot dormitory, currently known as New Hall. Resident faculty members perched on red Adirondack chairs greet new arrivals as they pass through the window-lined entrance and step tentatively into the dorm’s light-filled common room, where proctors have gathered to answer any questions.

In a third-floor room, Kendra Wang ’25 unpacks while her roommate, Jackie Addo ’25, has most of her belongings neatly arranged on her side of the room. The cozy double is made roomier by built-in wooden desks and shelves set against the window and dressers tucked underneath raised beds. Tackboard covers the wall above each bed, awaiting each student’s personalized array of fairy lights, posters, photographs and other decorations.

New Hall is the first dormitory to be built on Exeter’s campus in more than 50 years. If that isn’t significant enough, the sustainably constructed building also houses an academic space with four Harkness classrooms, bringing living and learning at Exeter together under one roof for the first time. With its opening this fall, New Hall has created a vibrant community hub on the western edge of campus, furthering the school’s vision of residential life as an essential part of the Exeter experience.

Priya Nwakanma ’23

“There’s something really unique that boarding schools can offer to both day and boarding students,” says Carol Cahalane, the Academy’s dean of residential life since 2018. “It’s the opportunity to have many places and ways to gather with peers who are equally interested in connecting and learning about each other and the world together.”

Cahalane is far from the first school leader to place residential life among the most valuable aspects of an Exeter education. The process of converting the Academy to a residential school goes back to the construction of the first permanent dormitory on campus, Abbot Hall, in 1855 (see sidebar, “Abbot Hall”). In the early 1930s, Edward Harkness’ revolutionary gift funded the addition of Bancroft, Langdell, Merrill and Wheelwright Halls. This brought the school’s total to 13 large dormitories, each housing 35 to 70 students, in addition to eight smaller house dorms, and provided accommodations for instructors with families for the first time.

“The residential element is at the heart of the education we provide,” Principal Richard W. Day reported to the Trustees in 1971, two years after the last two large residence halls to be built, Main Street Dormitory and Ewald Dormitory, opened on the northern edge of campus. “Dormitory life is not separate from but an extension of what takes place in the classroom. The value of each experience is dependent upon the quality of both.”

This symbiotic relationship was on everyone’s mind in 2019-20, when more than 700 community members weighed in on a vision for Exeter’s future and composed a Campus Master Plan. Based on the result of a student housing study, the plan included the renovation of six existing dorms over the next decade, as well as the construction of a new residence hall to house 60 students. This new hall would allow for renovation of existing dorms without either executing that renovation completely in the summers or displacing students during the school year.

“The new dormitory is not about an expansion of student enrollment,” says Heather Taylor, campus planner and architect. “It’s about a long-term strategy to improve student life and housing options on campus.”

Following Wentworth’s renewal, Langdell and Merrill Halls are the next dorms scheduled for renovation, and students from both will be living together in New Hall for the next two years. Langdell and Merrill are expected to reopen in the 2024-25 school year along with an expansive new Wetherell Dining Complex. “We’re very fortunate in that all of these are good buildings with good bones that we will be able to renovate them for the next 100 years,”

Taylor says. “My hope is that the same is true for the new dorm. You want to design a building that is timeless and functions for generations of our students.”

Historic Dow Barn houses two of New Hall’s five faculty apartments.

In accordance with the principle of environmental stewardship, a key aspect of the Campus Master Plan, the primary structure of New Hall is wood frame rather than steel, which minimizes its carbon footprint. Inside, the building maximizes natural light in both the residential and academic spaces, and geothermal heating and cooling systems provide dehumidification to the student rooms and air conditioning and heating to the faculty apartments and academic spaces. Faculty apartments on each level include separate studies opening directly to student hallways, ensuring a strong faculty-student connection as well as privacy for instructors and their families.

The building also incorporates the historic Dow Barn, which dates to the mid-19th century. Previously used only for storage, the barn was adjacent to neighboring Dow House, a former clinic that the Academy purchased in 1967 to adapt into a student and faculty residence. Dow Barn’s original exposed wood beams now adorn the cathedral ceiling in a second-floor faculty apartment. The façade on the barn end of New Hall incorporates the double doors and diamond-shaped windows of the original barn, as well as the vented cupola and weather vane. The same angular windows, repeated along the rest of the building, echo the barn’s classic look and feel, creating a seamless blend of historic and modern.

“I’m proud of the many sustainable features of the new building,” says Mark Leighton, director of Facilities Management. “Especially the reuse of Dow Barn, enhanced building envelope, geothermal systems, low-maintenance materials, and efficient sizing and layouts of the student and faculty spaces.” In addition to its main residential space — bedrooms for 60 students, five faculty apartments, an airy front common room and ground-floor game room with kitchen and laundry — the building’s academic wing is home to the Health and Human Development Department, with four Harkness classrooms, a department room and a flexible common area.

New Hall was built on the former site of Fisher Theater, which was the hub of the Academy’s performing arts offerings from 1971 until the opening of The David E. and Stacey L. Goel Center for Theater and Dance in 2018. The sloping topography of the building site allows the new dormitory to easily incorporate academic and residential space, while keeping them securely separate.

The academic entrance, on the north side of the building, opens onto a courtyard adjacent to the Forrestal- Bowld Music Center and is a short walk from both the Lamont Health and Wellness Center and the Phelps Science Center. On the Front Street side, a broad campus green in front of the student entrance to New Hall links the building to two smaller dorms, Dow House and Front Street Dormitory. “I love how the topography allows for two distinct entrances, both of which have strong connections to campus,” Leighton says.

While the union of Merrill and Langdell in New Hall was born of necessity, it’s also an unprecedented opportunity. For the first time, former residents of two different dorms, their affiliated day students, and a small group of new students have come together to create a unified dorm

identity and forge the enduring bonds so many Exonians take away from their time on campus. “I do think each dorm has a very unique culture, and I’m fascinated to see how they mix,” says Troy Samuels, the head of New Hall and an instructor in history. “I’m excited to get to play around in terms of building community.”

The main floor conference area.

While Samuels and other dorm faculty members take the lead in this process, they will rely on the support of senior proctors for the vital task of building dorm unity. Other large dorms on campus typically have six to eight student proctors, but New Hall has 10, five from each former dorm. “At the beginning of the year, we’re going to be doing double duty,” says Bronwyn Hall ’23, a senior proctor who spent her first three years at Exeter living in Merrill. “Two people on duty every night, one from each dorm, so that we make sure everyone gets a chance to get to know people that they don’t know, and even the proctors get to know the other dorm’s proctors.”

Hall and her fellow proctors also played a key role in helping their dormmates prepare for the transition during last spring term. Merrill and Langdell residents went through the process of room draw together and also gathered on a few more informal occasions, like toasting s’mores on Wetherell-Ford Quad. “I think they’re going to be a little cautious at first,” Samuels says, adding that the new dorm “has just so many wonderful spaces and wonderful opportunities for them. It’s going to be great.”

Students Jackie Addo ’26 and Kendra Wang ’25 are one of several cross-dorm pairings in New Hall.

After meeting for the first time during an off-campus dinner outing at a local Thai restaurant, Addo and Wang became closer friends when they both ran winter track. As preps, Addo lived in Langdell and Wang lived in Merrill, but they decided in the spring to room together this year, becoming one of several cross-dorm pairings in New Hall.

A week after move-in day, their double looked well lived-in. They have both ordered shelves to attach to their beds for phone chargers and alarm clocks, and tacked up photographs, prints and collages over their beds. A shared built-in desk, which runs the length of the wall beneath the windows, is loaded with textbooks, laptops, Clorox wipes and other dorm room staples.

“I really like the view, especially when I’m studying,” Addo says. “When times get stressful, it’s really nice to look out at the trees.” The desk is so roomy that she has placed a second chair at the end, ideal for study sessions with a friend. Wang, a self-proclaimed “super clothes shopper,” loves the big closets.

Addo and Wang acknowledged having mixed feelings over the summer about the move to New Hall, and they worried about missing the close-knit culture of their former dorms. Now, however, they are optimistic. “There was a lot of emphasis in the first dorm meeting of everyone really trying to make the effort to see us as one big dorm,” Wang says. “I think that’s actually going really well.”

Addo agreed, saying: “There are a lot of people from Merrill that I wanted to talk to — people in leadership roles or people that play on the volleyball team — but never really got to know. I’m still working on that since it’s only been a week. But I feel really close with the Merrill people, and I’m really excited to see what we can do as one dorm.”

Editor’s Note: This article first appeared in the fall 2022 issue of The Exeter Bulletin.

Stepping-off places

In my recent correspondence with John Irving ’61 (via email and a phone call that lasted almost two hours), it was difficult separating the author from Adam Brewster, the narrator of his latest novel, The Last Chairlift. Taming this conflation, trying to keep these voices in their own corners, was harder than I thought it would be.

I was feeling like a hypocrite, too. Though I retired from Exeter’s English Department in June, I had been bludgeoning my students for decades with Vladimir Nabokov’s mantra for good readers: “We should always remember that the work of art is invariably the creation of a new world … having no obvious connection with the worlds we already know.”

Whatever you assume about skiing and ski culture, let it go when you read Chairlift. Secure your boots to your bindings and enjoy negotiating the intertwining trails of Adam’s quests. Whether he’s searching for his father’s identity, nudging into place the puzzle pieces of his skier mother’s evolving love life or his own, or brooding over the ghosts of Aspen’s Hotel Jerome, it would be a shame to project our own experience onto the narrative’s screen or try to decode the artist’s life there.

We must surrender to the story. Which is hard to do if a chunk of it is hunkered on a setting the reader knows well. Like Exeter, for instance. If you’re a devoted Irving fan and have spent time with The Cider House Rules, A Widow for One Year, The Hotel New Hampshire, The World According to Garp, the more recent Avenue of Mysteries, or any of his 14 previous novels, you might appreciate a few echoes in The Last Chairlift (e.g., wrestling!). But Irving, who turned 80 last March, is an author who can conjure a distinct world upon what we believe are the foundations of the familiar —even if we can identify the thematic and topical watermarks of his previous fictions, especially while reading the book in the very town he’s describing.

“Fiction writers like what we call truthful exaggeration. When we write about something that really happened — oral most happened, could have happened — we just enhance what happened. Essentially, the story remains real, but we make it better than it truly was, or we make it more awful — depending on our inclination.” This is the voice of writer/narrator Adam Brewster, so you get my point about authorial ambiguity, which only intensifies in the stitched together conversation that follows.

Reading this novel, just shy of 900 pages, in two and a half weeks was a full-time job, especially when anticipating dialogue with its author. I loved every word, every minute of it. Not only the gravitational pull of my empathy for Irving’s characters and being subsumed by a tangled plot and historical commentary, but its patterns and refrains, its almost Homeric epithets. Epic is not an exaggeration for the author’s heroic management of language and scope. Like Adam says, “Unrevised, real life is just a mess.”

Ralph Sneeden: Early in our correspondence, I betrayed my dread of not being able to finish your book before our first phone conversation.

John Irving: What a blow it must be to your retirement — to be reading a novel longer than [Charles Dickens’] Bleak House. My Chairlift is still shorter than David Copperfield (barely). That said, it’s a relief to know that Chairlift really will be my last long novel. I know the approximate length of the boxcars in the train station, the novels not yet coupled to an engine. I’ve been trying to write the longest trains first — either the longest or the most difficult, for reasons other than their length. It looks like shorter trains from now on. I’ve always imagined dying at my desk, midsentence. I can accept dying in my sleep, only because it would be less of a nuisance for my wife. I’m not saying I’m going to become a novella man overnight, but that’s the direction I’m going in.

You’ve written about Exeter before, sometimes in disguise, indirectly. But this novel calls Exeter by name. Did this most recent fictional foray back to the culture of the school in the mid-20th century generate any unanticipated revelations, memories? 

Nothing unanticipated. The farther I get from being the faculty brat I was lucky to be, the more free I feel to take liberties with what happened to me. The surroundings feel autobiographical, and some of the core relationships to the school are autobiographical — like the faculty-brat connection, like the townie connection. I like to use my autobiography as a stepping-off place … to make something sound grounded in the real, in the actual. Then, when the exaggerations commence, you’ll think it’s all real. What develops from these familiar circumstances never happened to me. … Sometimes I change the name of Exeter, but there’s a familiar small town and a boarding school with an insider-outsider student population.

he farther I get from being the faculty brat I was lucky to be, the more free I feel to take liberties with what happened to me."

The word “normal” and its counterparts — weird, bohemian— come up later in the novel in the context of what sort of life Adam wants to live in comparison with his experience with his immediate family.

The basic circumstance of Adam’s situation is one we’ve seen before, too — a boy with a mysterious (or elusive) mother and an unknown (or absent) biological father. This is another stepping-off place; from this familiar premise, unfamiliar things develop. Adam is the lone straight guy in a queer family; even his extended family (including Nora, his cousin) is queer. Two lesbian couples and a trans-woman stepfather are the people looking after him; they’re his support group. Adam is afraid for them. “The Honeymoon on the Cliff” could have worked as a title for the novel. Yet Adam is the one who needs looking after; he’s more badly behaved than all of them, sexually. Of course, Nora is a troublemaker, a magnet to danger, and Em (her partner) is right to see the hatred coming — to be afraid for Nora. … Adam is both the out-of-it one and the odd man out. Adam is a slow learner, the last to learn.

LGBTQIA+ themes are laced into the DNA of your work from The World According to Garp to In One Person, but now it seems the reading world might be better equipped to appreciate what you’ve been doing all along. In an email, you were passionate in your recommendation of James Hannaham’s new novel, which you reviewed for New York Times, as a must read, because of its titular main character, Carlotta. You wrote, “It’s a time in the U.S. when state legislatures are passing anti-trans legislation — a good time to heroize a trans character!” I think Chairlift is a bold foray into that territory.

Elliot Barlow [a character in the novel] isn’t called “the only hero” for no reason; she’s a brave soul. My singling out the lonely bravery of the snowshoer owes a debt to my trans daughter, Eva. My third son, Everett, began the transitioning process to female less than six months before I began The Last Chairlift [in 2016]. Eva read my first draft when I’d only written half the novel. She has always been a writer — a playwright, a screen writer and an actor. We show each other our first drafts. She’s been doing an M.F.A. in film and screenwriting at York University in Toronto, where she’s also had a teaching assistantship. The name she’s chosen for herself as a writer, actor, director is Eva Everett Irving, which I like, because it’s totally accurate, but I call her Eva — she’s just Eva to me. I’m very proud of her.

You seem to be working out some of the great tensions of our time through what your characters say to each other, and how your narrator processes their ideas, their opinions. Chairlift seems poignantly current even in its evocation of the 1960s, from Adam Brewster’s childhood right up to the election of Donald Trump. The novel also enables the decades of the last 70 years to have their own conversation about the events, politicians, etc., that got us to where we are now. Though your plot broaches gun violence, religion, war, the brightest spotlight is trained on gender, Roe v. Wade, AIDS, sexual orientation and, especially, Ronald Reagan.

Reagan’s moral absenteeism was most apparent in the AIDS crisis. Of the Republican justices on the U.S Supreme Court who voted to overturn Roe, only one of them isn’t Catholic, and he was raised Catholic; his mother was an anti-abortion activist who worked in the Reagan administration. Those justices seem more in step with the Vatican than with the First Amendment — the part that says, “make no law respecting an establishment of religion.“

In the time of the Puritans, abortion was allowed beyond the first trimester — up to four or five months. Our founding fathers got this right; the choice to have a child belonged to the woman who was pregnant. For more than two centuries — beginning in the 1620s in Plymouth, Massachusetts — abortion was permitted. (It was prohibited for scarcely a century.) It’s ironic that we’re a nation founded by Separatist Puritans fleeing religious persecution in England. Now we’re doing the religious persecuting! An undeveloped fetus has more rights than an adult woman?

Pope Pius XII used the right-to-life term in an “Address to Midwives on the Nature of Their Profession”— a 1951 papal encyclical. Here are the pope’s exact words: “Every human being, even the child in the womb, has the right to life directly from God and not from his parents, not from any society or human authority.” The poor midwives! This amounts to mandatory childbirth. Freedom of religion is a two-way street. Yes, we’re free to practice the religion of our choice, but we’re also protected from having someone else’s religion practiced on us. Not now — not in these United States. What Dickens wrote about the law applies to those Republican justices on the U.S. Supreme Court. “It is better to suffer a great wrong than to have recourse to the much greater wrong of the law.“

In the midst of what is supposed to be my publicity and promotion for The Last Chairlift, all these years later they’re screening Cider House at the Toronto International Film Festival again. I’m introducing the screening, telling the novel-to-film storyline — talking about the overturning of Roe, and how abortion rights were safer in 1985 (when the novel was published) than they are now. I didn’t think Roe v. Wade was safe when I wrote the novel, or when the film was made. There’s a moment in Cider House when one of the nurses says something to Dr. Larch about the law. “The law — what has the law done for any of us here?” Larch cries. (More déjà vu.)

I want my fellow members of the class of ’60 and ’61 to see my homage to Dick Pershing in Matthew Zimmermann, who — as a little boy at Exeter — grew big enough to achieve Dick’s heroic stature."

Let’s talk a little more about the commerce between your own life and one of the novel’s most compelling characters, Zim, based on Richard “Dick” Pershing, the grandson of John “Black Jack” Pershing, commander of the American Expeditionary Forces in World War I. Dick graduated from Exeter in 1961 and his name is on the Korea/Vietnam memorial bench at the Academy. In a novel that features a lot of ghosts, Dick’s “spirit” provides a compass bearing for your exploration of the war in Vietnam and how it affects Adam and his family. With the character of Zim, the elegiac sonar pings you’re sending out to Dick Pershing are really gorgeous, subtle.

Thank you for noticing the elegiac sonar pings I am sending out to Dick Pershing — not the only friend I lost in that misbegotten war, but the one who always had a hero’s exemplary bearing. I’m a member of the class of 1960 and the class of 1961 — simply because I started with the class of ’60 but I graduated with the class of ’61. I have close friends in both classes. Dick Pershing was someone I admired at Exeter: a very entertaining guy, a three-sport athlete, he was someone I always looked up to. The school was a struggle for me. Dick did everything with seemingly effortless grace. I wished I could be more like him. My character, Matthew Zimmermann, is not Dick Pershing. Nothing comes easily to Zim. He is undersized for the lightest weight class in wrestling, but he bravely competes (and often gets mauled). Then Zim starts to grow. Yet Little Ray (the narrator’s mother) will always see him as the little boy she loved and sought to protect. In June 1965, Dick Pershing and I were ushers at a mutual friend’s wedding in Exeter — at the Exeter Inn. Our ’61 PEA classmate Don Hendrie was marrying an Exeter girl — Susan Niebling (like me, a faculty child).

I’d signed up for ROTC my freshman year at Pitt; I kept up the ROTC at UNH. I’d been accepted to the M.F.A. creative writing program at Iowa, but I always imagined I would be in service in the U.S. Army after my M.F.A. However, I got a girl pregnant on my junior year abroad, in Vienna. I married her; we had the baby. My son Colin was born in 1965. I was thereby dismissed from military service — 3-A, married with child. It was JFK’s ruling that at-home fathers should be ineligible for combat. I knew nothing about this; a ROTC officer told me. Unintentionally, I was out of the U.S. Army. (At the time, I was naïve enough to be disappointed.) I felt sorry for myself — to be married with a child before I graduated from college. I thought I’d missed an opportunity, as a writer, to “see” a war. I both envied and admired Dick that he was headed to Fort Benning, Georgia, to complete his training. Here I was at a party following Don Hendrie’s wedding, talking to Dick, wishing I could be more like him — as I remember wishing at Exeter. Dick was killed in action in Vietnam in 1968. In The Last Chairlift, I wanted to pay respect to Pershing’s heroism and to his illustrious military family. I wanted my character Zim’s heroism to mirror Dick’s. I never met the Pershing family, but I made their fictional counterparts as wonderful as I could imagine. I want my fellow members of the class of ’60 and ’61 to see my homage to Dick Pershing in Matthew Zimmermann, who — as a little boy at Exeter — grew big enough to achieve Dick’s heroic stature. I’m not the only one who misses him.

Chairlift can be described as “self-conscious” in a few ways; it’s a hall of mirrors in which the narrator is also a screenwriter who deploys his noirish screenplays in the hunt for family origins. But he’s principally a novelist who sees the world in terms of books, especially Moby-Dick, administered by his grandmother when he is a child. His stepfather, too — a searching, endearingly protean hero— is an English teacher at Exeter who often brings a wry literary sensibility to scenes. Melville, especially, gives Adam a way to appreciate destiny. I wonder if Chairlift might be a sort of love letter to great novels, to writers who’ve had an impact on you. 

I agree. Great Expectations was the novel that made me want to be a writer, only if it was possible for me to be a writer like Charles Dickens — to move a reader, as I was moved by reading him. (To make you laugh, and to make you cry.) The intention of a Dickens novel is to move you emotionally, not persuade you intellectually. I believe in, I aim for, the emotional payoff. … Having it both ways is a subversive intention of my writing. To be funny and serious at the same time.

Moby-Dick, which I read a couple of years later — when I was 17, almost 18 — showed me how to foreshadow an ending. I tried to pay my respect to the foreshadowing of that ending in the grandmother’s devotion to Queequeg and his life-buoy coffin. As for Melville’s bad reviews for Moby-Dick, those sloppy readers helped me put book reviewers in proper perspective. The Moby-Dick reviewers either skimmed the novel or skipped around in it. Yes, the novel can be tediously expository on the minutiae of whaling, but the intentionality of the foreshadowing couldn’t be more clear.

You mentioned in our last email exchange that Melville had inspired one of your last tattoos.

I was in my late teens or early 20s when I went to a maritime tattoo shop. I wanted the last line of Moby-Dick on my left forearm. In my imagination, I envisioned a sperm whale configured around that last line — “only found another orphan.” If I’d asked for a girlfriend’s name in a bleeding heart on my chest, the tattoo artist wouldn’t have hesitated, but he was worried about the last line of a novel. “I’ll give you the sperm whale, kid, but you should think twice about that quote from a book. You don’t know what you’ll think of that book when you get older.” (Hence no Moby-Dick tattoo — not then.) The line from Moby-Dick and the sperm whale would end up being one of the last tattoos I got — not the first. I have a maple leaf on my left shoulder, and the names of my wife and daughter on my left upper arm. I have the names of my two sons, Colin and Brendan, on my right upper arm. There’s the starting circle of a wrestling mat on the inside of my right forearm. I got all these before I got the sperm whale and “only found another orphan” on my left forearm. I found a maritime tattoo artist from St. John’s in Toronto. She told me my arm was too small for a sperm whale, but she did a good job. My last tattoo, on the outside of my right forearm, are the last lines of The Cider House Rules: Princes of Maine, Kings of New England.

Editor’s Note: This interview first appeared in the fall 2022 issue of The Exeter Bulletin.

Ralph Sneeden taught English at Exeter from 1995-2022, held the B. Rodney Marriott Chair in the Humanities, and is a co-founder of the Exeter Humanities Institute. His essays and poems have appeared in many magazines, including AGNI, Harvard Review, The Kenyon Review, POETRY, The New Republic, and The Surfer’s Journal. His most recent book of poems, Surface Fugue (2021), won the Poetry Society of New Hampshire’s Best Book of the Year award, and The Legible Element, his collection of water-related essays, is forthcoming from EastOver Press.

Faculty in residence

Ellee Dean ’01 is still settling into her home on the second floor of Exeter’s newest residence hall. “We’ve had two all-dorm meetings so far, and I think the vibe seems really playful,” she says. “The kids and adults are all talking about this being a historic moment … and a real opportunity to create something fresh.”

An instructor in English and one of five resident faculty members taking charge of New Hall, Dean shares the apartment with her husband, Porter Hayes, a regional director of major gifts in Exeter’s Office of Institutional Advancement; their sons Bode, 10, and Wyatt, 8; and the family’s dog, Bruno. It’s one of five faculty residences in New Hall, including at least one on each floor of student living space.

All feature hardwood floors, spacious open-plan kitchens and living areas, and air conditioning, in addition to separate faculty entrances, dedicated parking spaces and two shared patios. 

Wyatt Hayes with a copter in his new bedroom.

“We’ve talked about how nice it’s going to be to have our dorm team meeting and sit outside,” Dean says. “I’m also so excited about the bigger common spaces for the students. … I think having that big outdoor space in front of the dorm is going to be incredible. I can already imagine the kids having picnics out there.”

Dean’s apartment, like the other faculty residences, has a study that opens directly into the student hallway. The setup is ideal for dorm duty and fosters strong ties between resident faculty and students. Dean’s study contains a table with four chairs and a roll of kraft paper mounted on the wall, perfect for students — and kids — in the mood for a writing or drawing session.

Elle Dean ’01 and her son, Wyatt Hayes.

Wyatt Hayes kicking back.

Dean has more experience than most with dorm life at Exeter. A resident of Amen Hall during her student years, she has lived in Webster Hall and Merrill Hall since joining the Academy as a faculty member in 2013. As a parent, she admits that living in a dorm has its perks. “There are always a ton of kids volunteering to babysit,” Dean says. Bode and Wyatt have also taken piano and chess lessons from student members of the Exeter Student Service Organization.

For their part, her children seem relatively unfazed by their new surroundings. Bode likes living closer to his elementary school, and to the adjacent fields where he plays baseball and lacrosse. Although Wyatt’s bedroom has a stunning view of the Academy Building’s bell tower, he’s far more excited to show off the LED lights his parents installed and his collection of Boston Celtics gear.

Wyatt does muster some enthusiasm for seeing familiar students and meeting new ones as the school year begins — particularly if those meetings involve the dorm’s basement game room. “I might play some Ping-Pong,” he says hopefully, before rushing down the hall to join his family.

 

Editor’s Note: This interview first appeared in the fall 2022 issue of The Exeter Bulletin.

Healthy living and learning

To accommodate its expanding academic curriculum, as well as the Academy’s commitment to promoting students’ physical, mental and emotional wellness, Exeter’s Health and Human Development Department now makes its home into the spacious lower level of New Hall dormitory after years in the Lamont Health and Wellness Center.

New Hall’s academic space features four Harkness classrooms, a departmental office and a flexible lobby that can be used for group activities such as yoga, meditation and cooking, or just relaxing and connecting when not in class. Bookshelves lining the walls are home to an expanded library of health- and wellness-related books that students can browse and borrow.

While living and learning are kept securely separate — dorm residents have to exit the building to access the academic space — every Exeter student has the opportunity to take classes in New Hall. “It used to be that only ninth graders and new 10th graders took health,” Department Chair Michelle Soucy says. “Right before the pandemic, we changed it, and now students from all four years take at least one class in Health and Human Development.”

In addition to introductory courses aimed at helping all new students acclimate to the school, the Health and Human Development curriculum includes a Teen Health course for each class year, including one designed to help prepare seniors for life beyond Exeter. “We cover finances, learning to cook for yourself, and a bunch of other stuff for what we call the emerging adult phase of life,” Soucy says.

In the courtyard outside the building’s entrance, a circular medallion with the words “youth from every quarter” and an engraving of a lion rampant adorn a stone wall. An anonymous donor intended the medallion, and a soon-to-be- installed stone bench, to serve as a corner of campus dedicated to wellness reflection. The feature complements one of the department’s long-running fall programs, a positive psychology fair where students gather to paint and decorate rocks with messages of positivity. “We’re envisioning that we’ll have a little rock garden there as well,” Soucy says. “We’re always talking about the psychology of looking at things in the positive, and how you can raise your mental health.”

Editor’s Note: This article first appeared in the fall 2022 issue of The Exeter Bulletin.

Abbot Hall

For nearly 75 years, the Academy operated without dormitories. Instead, “the boys boarded about town,” as one Exeter historian writes. But as enrollment grew, along with the cost of living, the Trustees recognized the need to offer on-campus housing to help ensure equal opportunity for all students. Charles H. Bell explains this thinking in his 1883 book Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire: A Historical Sketch, writing that the Trustees “determined to establish at the charge of the Academy, a dormitory and commons hall for the members of the school of limited means, by which the expense of living should be reduced to the minimum.”

The school experimented first with housing students in an Academy-owned building on Spring Street, which had been the J. & B. Williams printing shop. The arrangement worked so well that in September 1852 the Trustees voted “to erect a more suitable and capacious building for the same purpose, in the Academy grounds,” Bell writes. “It opened for use in 1855. It was constructed of brick, and contained rooms for fifty young men, with a dining hall and other needful accommodations; and cost about twenty thousand dollars.”

Abbot Hall, room 13, circa 1879

As Frank H. Cunningham details in his book Familiar Sketches of The Phillips Exeter Academy and Surroundings, the rooms were “furnished at a nominal rent, so that fifty boys are thus supported at about one half the cost of living at the ordinary boarding houses.” Residents paid $1 a year for a room. “The Trustees believe that no other institution of the kind in the country has approached this Academy in giving substantial aid to young men of poverty and merit,” Cunningham writes.

The building was named Abbot Hall, in honor of Benjamin Abbot, the Academy’s second principal, who served from 1788 to 1838. Abbot was a respected and beloved instructor, teaching such subjects as Latin and Greek for 44 years and counting among his pupils statesman Daniel Webster.

Ever considerate of the Academy’s mission to educate students in goodness and knowledge, the Trustees voted to post, inside each student’s Abbot Hall door, a set of eight rules, including: “There shall not be in or about the building, during study hours, any singing or playing of musical instruments, or any other noise inconsistent with the quiet study; and good order shall be preserved at all times.”

Abbot Hall remained the only on-campus dormitory until Soule Hall was built in 1893.

 

Editor’s Note: This article first appeared in the fall 2022 issue of The Exeter Bulletin.