FORDS

by
Howard B. Prossnitz

Delivered to The Chicago Literary Club February 22, 1999
Copyright 1999 Howard B. Prossnitz

The first time that I heard of it was in the spring of 1968. It was a gray, cold March day in Evanston. I was inside a windowless classroom at the High School studying American History. My teacher was Harry Wood. We were cramming for the upcoming AP exam and had just finished reviewing three quarters of history in 40 minutes. I was not feeling that sanguine about the exam, especially since Steve Ellmann was sitting next to me. His father was Richard Ellmann, the renowned Joyce scholar, who was a professor at Northwestern at the time. Steve was as keen a student as his father, he was a year ahead of me and would graduate as valedictorian. I could not help but notice that he had filled about twenty pages of notebook paper with his detailed precise study notes whereas I was contemplating my own sloppy handwriting which had produced two and one-half pages of a sketchy outline.

With only a few minutes left in the period, our teacher said, "You know it does not have to be like this. When I was in college, we took our exams outside on green lawns near a duck pond. Or if we wanted to, we took the exams back to our dorm rooms and worked on them there. You see there was an Honor Code which meant that we had no proctors. We scheduled our exams for ourselves whenever we wanted to during a two week period. Our classes had eight students and we often met at the professor's house."

As one of 1,250 juniors at Evanston High School, I wondered where this mythical place was. None of my other teachers ever talked about their colleges. Harry Wood seemed to be very old, at least forty, so obviously this had been a special place for him. I did not have to wait long to find out the name of this Shangri La. At the end of his reminiscence, we learned that the name of the school was Haverford and that it was a small Quaker college near Philadelphia. Over the remainder of the academic year, Mr. Wood continued to pepper his classes with fond stories of his alma mater.

The following summer, when my father and I made our tour of Eastern schools, I went to visit the place and I was not disappointed. It was as promised, an oasis in the middle of the already tranquil Main Line with expansive green lawns, old towering trees, a duck pond, a cricket field and a club house where tea was served during recesses in the cricket games. A small cadre of Evanston graduates had gone there before such as Jack Rakove, son of Milton Rakove, a political science professor in Chicago known for his books on Mayor Daley. Jack himself is now a professor -- he teaches history at Stanford. I felt that I had been let in on a great secret and now many years later, I still feel the same way.

Tonight, I will talk about the history of the College as well as two Fords that I particularly admire, Isaac Sharpless, one of the College's early presidents, and Charles Robinson, class of 1928, whom I had the honor to know personally. I will also try to answer the question of what is it about

Haverford that creates such loyalty among its alumni? Why is it that I return four times a year for meetings of the Alumni Association Executive Committee? Why do many of my classmates feel the same way? For instance at our most recent reunion (number 25), we had our traditional class meeting. One-third of my graduating class of was present. We were seated in a seminar room in a large circle. As has become our custom, we went around the table with each person providing a brief narrative about what had transpired in his life during the last five years. One of my classmates expressed a thought that we all shared. He said, " when I come back here and walk into this room with all of you present, I feel like I am at home again. There is no other place that I feel this way. I know that I can speak freely and from the heart here. There is none of the pretense and posturing that I encounter in my everyday world." What is it that provokes such sentiments? Is it merely nostalgia or something more?

In order to understand the history of the school, we must go back to the early days of the Society of Friends in England. The second generation of Quakers found that the doors of Oxford and Cambridge were closed to them because they were dissenters. They refused to take an oath of allegiance to the crown. Since they were closed out of the universities, secondary school education was of more importance than university training. For a long time, there were no Quaker colleges or universities. When William Penn received his land grant for Pennsylvania, many Quakers moved to the Colonies. Religious differences continued between them and the other religious refugees from England. The Quakers were at odds with the Calvinists. Quakers did not believe in doctrines of predestination, salvation of the elect, or theocratic government. They espoused the belief that God's grace was broad and that there should be total independence of church and state. They had an unstructured worship service without creeds or sacraments in the service. Instead, they practiced silent individual worship with occasional spontaneous statements from those present at the meeting.

By 1800, there were 40,000 Friends in the Philadelphia area. Many of them were prosperous businessmen. Schisms developed between conservative Orthodox Quakers and the Hicksite Friends. Hicksites were in favor of hymns and more typical methods of worship. There was also a faction growing in Philadelphia known as Gurneyite Friends, who were loyal to a pro-intellectual Quaker preacher from England named Joseph John Gurney. Interestingly, it was the conservatives who recognized that a more liberal education for their children would help to ameliorate the bitter doctrinal differences between these groups.

In 1830, Friends from Philadelphia and New York formed a committee to pursue the idea of starting a school of higher learning. Their mission was articulated in the following resolution which they adopted:

Whereas; the members of the Society of Friends have hitherto labored under very great disadvantage in obtaining for their children a guarded education in the higher branches of learning combining the requisite literary instruction with a religious care over the morals and manners of their scholars, enforcing plainness and simplicity of dress and deportment, training up the children in a knowledge of the testimonies of our Religious Society and carefully preserving them from the influence of corrupt principles and evil communications:

It is therefore proposed that an institution be established in which the children of Friends shall receive a liberal education in ancient and modern literature and the mathematical and natural sciences, under the care of competent instructors of our own Society, so as not endanger their religious principles or alienate them from their early attachments.
A capital budget of $40,000 was agreed upon: $8,000 to buy the land; $24,000 for the building; and $8,000 for a library. The operating budget called for $10,000 in tuition to be paid from 50 boys with the headmaster to be paid an annual salary of $1,500, and two teachers to be paid $1,000 apiece. $4,500 was allocated to feed the students. The planned profit was $2,000 per year.

By November 18, 1830, $43,500 had been pledged to open the school. The choice of a site engendered a heated debate between the New York and Philadelphia groups. After much discussion and deliberation, including consideration of a possible location in New Jersey, a farm of 198 acres lying on both sides of Haverford Road near the ten mile stone from Philadelphia was acquired. The cost of the land was $17,685, more than double the budgeted amount. A charter for the school was granted by the Pennsylvania legislature on April 4, 1833. Haverford officially became the first Quaker institution of higher learning in the country. Founders Hall was completed on October 28, 1833 and the school opened for business.

Parenthetically, I was one of the last students to live in Founders Hall. My freshman year, eleven of us were assigned to a suite of rooms on the third floor with unimpeded access to the roof, the clock tower, and a banister on which we could slide down to meals in the Great Hall. After that year, and hopefully with no connection whatsoever to our conduct on the roof, banister and clock tower, Founders was no longer used as a residence.

From the very outset, considerable care was taken in the landscaping of the campus. The grounds of the school were laid out by an English gardener, William Carvill. He conceived a comprehensive plan involving a central green, then courtyards around its perimeter followed by a surrounding buffer of woods and fields with a nature trail encircling the campus. All of these elements combine to create a tranquil atmosphere. At the entrance is a sign that outside visitors are welcome on campus subject to certain rules to protect the environment. One rule is that dogs must be leashed. Not too long ago, the College's then president had to politely remind a visitor that her dog needed to be leashed for reasons that I will not completely describe. The visitor responded by saying, "who are you to be enforcing rules?" He responded that he happened to be the President of the College Not put off, the visitor retorted, "what kind of college is this where the President has to worry about where dogs relieve themselves?"

The school started with a small group of teachers who were accomplished scholars with degrees from Yale, Penn, Princeton and similar institutions. The regimen for students was strict. On arrival at the College, all students were measured and desks were assigned in accordance with their height. Students were not allowed to go off campus. Wake up call was at 5:30 a.m., breakfast was served at 6:30 (many waited until 6:25 to arise and that remains a tradition, setting one's alarm clock to go off 5 minutes prior to the close of the breakfast hour), classes were conducted all morning, lunch was served at 1:00, classes resumed from 2:00 to 5:00, there was a recreation break before supper at 6:00, evening study from 7:00 to 9:00, and then a reading by the superintendent would ensue followed by bedtime. Reading of any fiction was strictly forbidden as a corrupting influence. Twice a week attendance was required at the nearby Meeting House.

Unfortunately, the very early years of the College were plagued by financial troubles due to the extremely small number of students. The College had to close its doors from 1846 to 1848 and then reopened with 20 students. It slowly grew after that time. In 1860, president-elect Lincoln stopped at the Haverford train station while making the train trip from Springfield to Washington for his inauguration. A group of students had assembled. Lincoln appeared on the rear platform of the train and bowed to the students. Such an event did not repeat itself 110 years later, when I was a student and Richard Nixon was our country's President.

By 1861, there were 50 students. Tuition had risen to $300 per year. In the spring of 1863, an early alumnus, Thomas Kimber Jr., agreed to donate not less than $4,000 nor more than $5,000 for the construction of a library. It was conditioned on the Alumni Association contributing an equal amount and thus became one of the first challenge gifts to the school. That pattern continues with most major gifts to the College being in the form of challenge grants. A further express condition of the library donation was that no loud conversation occur in the building. The challenge grant was met. In typical strange Haverford fashion, the library at this plain simple Quaker school was constructed in the shape of a small Gothic cathedral. It would be more in place at the English universities from which the Quakers had been excluded. Visitors still ask why there is a church on campus.

The early students had to strenuously discipline themselves academically. Examinations were only given once every two years and covered all material studied during that period. Class rank at graduation was determined entirely by a single test at the end of the senior year. The faculty did not deviate from its strict academic standards. In 1869, two Englishmen who were described as having "an appalling list of qualifications" as well as "high and mighty friends" applied for LID degrees. Even though each had "done a bit of literary work", the faculty stuck to its policy of no honorary degrees.

By 1877, a residential dorm named Barclay opened. An early College history reports that this gave students the unspeakable privilege of private, uninterrupted study. It was the belief of the faculty that having a student primarily in charge of his own learning experience led to results that no system of close watching and strict rule enforcement could ever produce. Ironically, a school that had been started by Quakers who were concerned that their children be given a "guarded education" started to give its students a lot of intellectual freedom. In 1885, Bryn Mawr College opened and the Philadelphia newspapers referred to it as the Girl's Annex of Haverford.

A large part of the 1892 History of Haverford College published by the Alumni Association is devoted to how the school did in cricket matches. The sport got seriously underway at the school in 1856 when makeshift wickets were fashioned out of broomsticks, and bats out of pine board. At first, anyone who could knock the ball over the bowler's head was judged to be an excellent player. Two runs were deemed to be a miracle. Two cricket clubs emerged, one named the Delian and the other the Lycaean. Then came a third club which was the Dorian. Its early chroniclers state that "(t)his new race of cricketers, like the old Greek race earnest and energetic, soon proved their right to the ambitious name they had chosen, for they conquered all before them."

In 1864, the first intercollegiate cricket game in the United States was held and Haverford defeated the University of Pennsylvania. The team kept getting better. According to the impartial history written by the Alumni Association, the 1873 team was described this way:
Then might have been an eleven on the field that would have done credit to any University in England -- such bowlers as Hunt, Gummere and Newlin while at the wicket was Haines and out in the field were men like the noble Percy and the great D.F. a tower of strength in himself. (History at page 416).

The game enjoyed a golden era at the college in the late 1800's. At Alumni Day in 1890, the team beat Penn 110 to 74. The Philadelphia newspaper covering the event duly recounted that "to say the Haverford College captain bowled superbly is putting it mildly". After commencement in 1896, thirteen members of the cricket team set sail for England where they played against Eton, Harrow, Winchester and the summer teams of Oxford and Cambridge. Amazingly, the Haverford players won one-half of their games. The sport continues at the school. One of the anomalies of my own undergraduate experience was seeing bearded long-haired revolutionaries and draft protesters playing an extended game of cricket with regular breaks for tea service. Haverford remains as the only college in the United States which consistently offers instruction in cricket.

The College has always encouraged full participation in sports. One out of every six members of the student body were on the football squad. I would like to briefly contrast the Greek God cricket team of 1873 with the 1971 football team. The 1971 team included a number of my classmates. It also features prominently in the sports history of the school, but not for the same reasons as the 1873 cricket team. One thing, however, could be said of both teams. They were unmatched. The 1971 football season got off to an aberrant start with a 51-13 rout of Scranton and a 22-21 win over Swarthmore. Much to our shock, the Haverford squad was at the top of various statistical rankings for small college football maintained by the New York Times. Who would have expected to see Haverford as the team with most yards gained on the ground rushing? Things, however, quickly returned to normal. By the end of the next season, the football program was terminated for reasons of player safety and survival.

My personal sports experience involved sailing. We practiced on the Schuylkill River in Valley Forge Park which required almost constant tacking to avoid hitting the opposite river bank. We competed against schools with limited sailing expertise such as the United States Navy at Annapolis, the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy and the New York Maritime Academy. Sometimes in order to raise a quorum for the team, we would bang on dorm rooms in the early hours of a Saturday morning to convince classmates suffering from hangovers of the positive attributes of nautical racing. This exercise reminded me of British sailing captains scouring taverns looking for their crew. While other teams would turn out in smartly matching oil skins, more often than not, a Haverford sailor would be seen wearing a Filene's Bargain Basement sweatshirt over a pair of well worn blue jeans. During the pre-dawn drive to the regatta one of the more experienced sailors would try to indoctrinate a groggy neophyte with the finer points of spinnaker trimming on the reaching leg of a course. Unfortunately, these impromptu lessons rarely progressed beyond the newcomer's comprehension of starboard versus port.

I recall one moment of sailing history infamy when we racing against Penn. As you may know, a sailboat race starts with a horn that counts down the minutes and seconds to the start. When the gun goes off, the object is to be on, but not across the starting line. We were lined up for an excellent start and the final seconds were being counted off in short beeps of the horn ... 5 , 4, 3, 2 and then magically at one, we capsized our boat right on the starting line much to the disgust of the Penn squad that had to sail around us to avoid carnage on the water.

Going back to the early years of the College, I turn to one of the most influential persons in the College's history -- Isaac Sharpless. He was born on December 16, 1848. He was educated at Friend's Boarding School in Westtown, Pennsylvania. When he finished Westtown, he went on the Westtown faculty. The member of the committee appointing him told him, "we will appoint thee; but we want thee to know it is because we can not get anyone else". Subsequently, he enrolled in the Lawrence Scientific School at Harvard and graduated in 1873.

He started teaching mathematics at Haverford in the fall of 1875 at age twenty-six. At that time, there were a total of forty-three students. One of his duties was to enforce the lights out requirement in the dormitory which was 10:00 p.m. Regular use of cushions as missiles at the lights out time caused this Resolution to be adopted by the student body:

Resolved, that if any person be struck by a cushion he is not allowed to throw more than six in return -- double the number at Freshmen. If the person that threw it not be conveniently near, he will not be allowed to hit in return, more than four unoffending students -- double the number of Freshmen. On no account will more than ten cushions be allowed to describe parabolas at one time. Chairs are not to be used as missiles until all cushions are exhausted.
Sharpless soon realized that student conduct would improve if the students were given more freedom to govern themselves. He began the process of dismantling the rules and replaced them with procedures for self governance. Sharpless' policies made him popular with the students. He became Professor of Astronomy in 1879. He was instrumental in seeing that the observatory became one of the best equipped ones of its time. In 1884, he advanced to the position of Dean. Three years later, he was chosen to be President. After his selection, the President of the Board told him that he hoped that a more satisfactory selection could have been made. The students, however, were much more enthusiastic. After news of his selection spread across the campus, every single student in the College went to stand in front of his house where they affectionately called out his name, "Isaac", and serenaded him with various musical instruments. On May 17, 1887, he was inaugurated as President.

Sharpless would serve as President for three decades. During his tenure, the College grew to 200 students, the endowment went from $200,000 to $2,500,000, and the number of buildings on campus tripled. Perhaps more importantly, long before the terms long range planning or strategic development were coined, Sharpless set forth his blueprint for how the College should develop. His list of five governing principles shaped the College for the next one hundred eleven years. He decided first that the school had to grow in numbers, while yet remaining small in comparison to its peers. In his tenure as President, it grew from 94 to 200 students. In 1973, the size of the student body was 750. With coeducation, further growth took place. The current enrollment is 1,250.

Second, he concluded that all unnecessary restrictions on student life should be removed in favor of self regulation. Since 1897, all examinations have been self-proctored. Sharpless set the stage for the Honor Code at Haverford which plays a central role in its life. It functions as a Constitution of ethical behavior. The basic precept is that no one shall engage in conduct that is dishonorable such as cheating or other behavior that infringes upon another or exhibits a lack of respect to them. The Code states that "fundamental to Haverford College is its character as a community of individuals who live under a common sense of honor, distinguished by the concern each member of the community has agreed to show for other members". Any member of the Community who believes that an infraction has occurred has a duty to confront the offending person. In 1940, the Code was expanded to cover social as well as academic life. It was amended again in the 1960's to cover drugs and alcohol. It now encompasses all aspects of student life. The Code is enforced by an Honor Council and unresolved violations are tried before a jury of four members of the Council and eight students chosen by lot. There might be one or two trials a year. These are closely watched and debated by the entire community. The proceedings are publicly reported with the names of those on trial deleted. Academically, the Honor Code has worked well, but socially it has not fared as well. Alcohol related infringements are still a definite problem at Haverford as on other college campuses. Yet, every year the Honor Code must be ratified by two-thirds of the Student Body and every year it is ratified.

The faculty operates under a consensus system where no votes are taken and majority rule does not prevail. Instead, decisions must be made by consensus. Interestingly, this process rarely results in a veto by one or two holdouts. Everyone participating understands that he or she has a duty to be open minded and be willing to change his or her mind during the process of debate and discussion.

Sharpless' third concept was that the selection of a superior faculty was of paramount importance and that the faculty should be paid well. He believed that the financial resources of the College should be used for faculty recruitment before anything else. He saw that professors were recruited from Cambridge, Yale, Harvard and Princeton. At one point, over half of the faculty had their Ph.D.'s from Harvard, and a large percentage of the College's alumni went on to graduate school at Harvard to prepare themselves for teaching careers. A recent perusal of the course catalogue shows twenty-two professors with doctorates from Harvard followed by Yale with twelve.

Next, Sharpless felt that as President, his primary job was to create a sympathetic learning community and that quality students and financial donations would follow. The method of instruction changed under Sharpless to classes which emphasized student discussion and involvement, rather than attendance at lectures. This principle remains strong today. The College remains as one of the very few schools that truly practices "need blind admissions". One early threat to the school was when sons of wealthy Philadelphia families were being admitted under more lax academic standards than applied to others. Sharpless recognized this as a serious problem and he put his job on the line by refusing to continue the policy. When he was out of the country in England for a year, some members of the Board tried to oust him over his decision, but fortunately they were not successful. When he returned, the policy of no favoritism for the wealthy was firmly established and preferential treatment of students with money ended.

Sharpless thought that the dormitory arrangements where virtually all students lived on campus and the existence of a dining hall which allowed them to eat together in one central location filled the needs that fraternities address. He concluded that fraternities should not be allowed. Once again, his instincts were correct. The absence of fraternities is a key ingredient to the cohesiveness of the college community. Ninety-nine percent of students live on campus. Fraternities have never been permitted.

Fifth, Sharpless believed that the College had to limit itself to producing leaders of thought and scholarship rather than professionals. The school has remained as a small liberal arts undergraduate college with no engineering or technical departments, nor any professional or graduate schools.

Thus, President Sharpless recognized that as a small school with limited resources, Haverford had to make choices. His choices were wise ones that have stood the test of time. The only item in his agenda which has changed is that now there is a direct emphasis on fund raising and solicitation of capital gifts. Two to three people, however, have accounted for a large percentage of the College's recent capital gifts. They are Haverford alumni who have done well in business. So Sharpless' vision that the school should strive to create a first rate academic environment and that money would follow has proved to be correct. Major gifts have come from graduates, not from outside foundations or corporate grants. Clearly, Sharpless left behind a great legacy. Today, when you enter the campus from Lancaster Avenue and pass the duck pond on your right and the cricket field on your left, the building that lies dead ahead and houses the biology and chemistry departments is named Sharpless Hall.

Charles Robinson, class of 28, was one distinguished Haverfordian that I had the honor to know personally. The way in which I was introduced to him explains how unique the Robinson family was and is. One of my good friends, a former suite mate, is Lorenzo Villalon. Lorenzo was born and raised in Chile. In 1968, one of the Robinson boys, Peter, was in Chile for the summer as part of a Catholic Relief Services program. He met Lorenzo and invited him to visit the Robinsons at their farm named Hartefeld in Avondale, Pennsylvania. The farm is located near Kennett Square and Chadds Ford. Lorenzo visited the farm and liked it so much that he decided to stay for the entire next year. He enrolled in the local high school as a senior and graduated. He enjoyed that year so much that he decided to apply to Mr. Robinson's alma mater where he matriculated and graduated. He enjoyed those four years so much that he decided to go on to two years of graduate school at Wharton. He tolerated those two years so much that he decided to make his permanent home in the United States. In the meantime, Lorenzo's sister came to visit the farm and she ended up marrying Dana Robinson, the third eldest son.

Although I had heard quite a bit about the Robinsons and the farm from Lorenzo, I did not actually meet the Robinsons until early in my senior year of College. Lorenzo persuaded me to make the drive down to the farm. Southeastern Pennsylvania is very scenic with rolling vistas that Andrew Wyeth has made famous. Our drive ended at a winding private road leading up to a rambling fieldstone farmhouse outside of which was parked an old orange and white VW bus. I had not been feeling that well on the trip down and felt even worse upon arrival. I was immediately consigned to an upstairs bedroom where at regular intervals, different members of the family popped in on me asking if they could bring chicken soup, juice or hot tea. After the fourth such visit, I began to wonder how many siblings there were. By the seventh visit, I could not contain my wonderment and I asked Lorenzo, "how many Robinsons are there, anyhow?" "Oh, I didn't tell you, there are fourteen children!". Seven were born to the Robinsons and another seven were adopted. Several of the adopted seven were less fortunate, either being learning disabled or physically handicapped.

When I felt better and was able to get out of bed, I was impressed by the team spirit of the family. Long before commercial stoves in residential homes became popular, this family had two of them in their kitchen. A routine Saturday evening family dinner could easily involve feeding twenty persons counting family and friends. At dinner, there were friendly, subteams devoted to particular tasks such as cooking, table setting and clean up. I was assigned to the dishwashing crew. Along with a family friend who was a Delaware judge, we made short work of the dirty pots and pans. That visit turned out to be the first of many.

We would usually arrive on Saturday afternoon in time for a spirited tennis match followed by a convivial dinner. After dinner, brandy and cigars were distributed as we would gather in the living room for songs around the piano, impromptu concerts by Dana Robinson, or games of charades. Some of my feeble efforts at charades are still replayed for me at regular intervals by Lorenzo. Mr. Robinson had a book lined study with floor to ceiling shelves of classic texts which he would willingly lend to interested readers. He subscribed to a number of literary journals and I spent many enjoyable hours there perusing essays in the journals.

Only later did I learn of the accomplishments of the family. Instead of any ostentatious display of wealth, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson spent their time and money raising and nurturing their children. It turned out that Mrs. Robinson's father was John Jakob Raskob. I discovered more about more about him from reading the Encyclopedia Britannica a few months ago than I ever did from the Robinsons. They were never ones to boast. Raskob was an American financier who played a major role in the early 20th century expansion of General Motors and du Pont Corporation. Raskob and Samuel du Pont were business associates. Together, they invested heavily in General Motors in the early 1900's. They each owned enough stock to have positions on the Board of Directors. Raskob became Chairman of G.M.'s Finance Committee. He was in favor of a broad base of stock ownership as he thought the greater the number of stockholders, the greater the number of people who would be predisposed to buying GM cars. He was instrumental in creating General Motors Acceptance Corporation to offer credit to consumers and inventory financing to dealers. In 1928, Raskob left GM to become Chairman of the Democratic National Committee. He managed Alfred E. Smith's unsuccessful campaign for president. Last but not least, in order to give Smith something to do after his election loss, Raskob organized the construction and management of the Empire State Building where Smith became a director. The lobby of the Empire State Building has a prominent plaque with Raskob's name on it.

Mr. Robinson also came from a distinguished family. His father served in World War I after passage of a special Act of Congress allowing him to enlist, even though he was older than the legal age for service. He became an officer and subsequently always went by the appellation of Captain Robinson. His son, Charles A. Robinson, enrolled at Haverford where he played cricket and football. He was Class Treasurer, Secretary Treasurer of the Scientific Society, and headed a number of campus clubs. He was very mild mannered and extremely modest. Yet, he had leadership qualities which inspired loyalty. After graduating in 1928, he went to work at the Delaware Trust Bank where he spent forty-two years and became Chairman of the Board. At the same time, he raised fourteen children, and ran the family farm. Not until his death two years ago, when I read his obituary did I become aware of the numerous charitable and civic organizations which he had led. He was a Board member of the National Conference on Christian and Jews, he had been given their National Human Relations Award in 1959, he was a founding member of the first conservation group in the Brandywine Valley, he started a CARE relief program after WWII, and initiated the Ulster project which was a student exchange program for Protestant and Catholic children from Northern Ireland. In 1970, he was selected for the Haverford Award which is the most prestigious award conferred by the Alumni Association . It is given to the alumnus who has most distinguished himself in dedication to social welfare. Mr. Robinson shared the award with Anthony Amsterdam, another Haverford grad and also a professor of mine at Stanford Law School. Amsterdam organized efforts to abolish the death penalty in the 60's. He personally represented scores of inmates on death row around the country.

On October 17, 1998, a Scarlet Oak tree was planted in front of Founders Hall in honor of Charles A. Robinson '28. Present were Charles R. Robinson 62, Peter S. Robinson 64, Dana P. Robinson 68, Lorenzo A. Villalon 73, Christopher Robinson 76, Charles P. Robinson 89, Terrance W. Robinson 93, Maria Rosa Robinson 99, Lucia Isabel Robinson 00, Carolina Greens Robinson 02. From Bryn Mawr College were Barbara Paul Robinson 62 ( a summa cum laude graduate, Order of the Coif at Yale Law School, the second woman partner at Debevoise Plimpton, and first woman to be President of the New York Bar Association), Ann Loftin Robinson'66, and Margaret Y. Robinson' 77.

What impressed me most about Mr. Robinson was his self-effacing manner and gentle sense of humor. One project that the family got involved in the 1970's was growing hydroponic lettuce on the farm. After graduation, I was visiting the farm, along with another classmate, Chris Cline. Chris was due to return to New York City that night where his girlfriend was awaiting his arrival. As usual, we had such a good time at the farm having dinner, conversing and singing songs around the piano that Chris was very late for his rendezvous. He was quite concerned that his reception would be less than friendly. Mr. Robinson sized up the situation and his solution was to give Chris a large head of hydroponic lettuce. He said, "don't worry, take this to your lady friend, and once she sees the size and beauty of this lettuce, it will be sure to mollify her!".

Unfortunately, Mrs. Robinson alo passed away recently, in April, 1998 not too long after the death of her husband. I was back at the farm last year on my way to reunion. I had wondered how the family home would survive and in particular, how fourteen siblings would divvy it up. The next generation showed imagination and creativity with their solution. The farm has been turned into a championship eighteen hole golf course known as the Hartefeld National Golf Course which recently hosted one of the PGA Senior tournaments. Hartefeld House is the clubhouse and restaurant for the course. Lots have been developed around the perimeter of the course and homes built upon them. A number of the Robinson children as well as Lorenzo have built their houses there and are thereby able to continue to live on the family farm/ PGA golf course.

At the beginning of my talk, I said that I would try to answer the question of why so many Haverfordians feel so positively about their alma mater and so much at home when they return. I believe that the answer is the same as to the question of what brings each of you here tonight and to other meetings of this very special Club. The answer, I believe, is that we each treasure the opportunity to be among a small convivial group of intellectually curious and sympathetic people. Here as there, social standing, religious differences, and business rank are left at the door as we come together to engage in conversation and hear talks about literary and quasi-literary topics.

In closing, I leave you with these words spoken by Isaac Sharpless at the June 20, 1888 commencement. They sum up Haverford's spirit and are written above the fireplace mantle in the Common Room of Founders' Hall where I will be this next Saturday:
I suggest that you preach truth and do righteousness as you have been taught, whereinsoever that teaching may commend itself to your consciences and your judgments. For your consciences and judgments we have not sought to bind: and see you to it that no other institution, no political party, no social circle, no religious organization, no pet ambitions put such chains on you as would tempt you to sacrifice one iota of the moral freedom of your conscience or the intellectual freedom of your judgments.
(1) Sharpless, Story of a Small College at page 58.

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