A Knack for People

It was just this pride in other people's accomplishments that endeared Hammy to so many Exonians. Hammy took a very personal interest in his scholarship prospects before they even got to the school. When the Scholarship Committee was meeting, he couldn't sleep at night for his anxiety over the fate of certain boys, and he often found himself pleading particular cases. But able as he was at selling Exeter, Hammy's real genius lay in following "his boys" throughout their time at the Academy. In 1979 Hammy wrote, with characteristic understatement, that "in order to understand the possibilities and limitations of the program, I supervised, to some extent, the activities of the scholarship boys while at Exeter and was able to assist some in obtaining scholarships to college." His "boys" remember that while they were at the Academy, Hammy was an honest counselor, a demanding coach, a sincere friend and a versatile provider of warm clothing (often from his own closet), tickets home in an emergency, athletic equipment, prom clothes and job connections.

A Lexicon of 'Hammyisms' Hammy was often seen around town on his bike, frequently en route to a tennis match. In the summer of 1975, the year before Hammy retired, I was teaching summer school and I would spend my free period going over to J. Smith and sitting in his office and just talking. It was then that I began to write down what I have come to call "Hammyisms." On Teaching: A teacher should put the heart before the course. Hammy saw work as affirmative-an opportunity; others saw work as negative-an obligation. Some stressed the difficulty of gaining admission to Exeter. Hammy stressed the advisability of making the effort. Hammy believed that before you could overcome, you had to undertake. Hammy thought that in a boarding school, "schooling takes place from sunrise to sunset; but education takes place from sunset to sunrise." Some parents, Hammy remarked, "watch their children like hawks. Others hawk their children like watches." On Sports: Hammy always taught beginning squash players the "Wenceslas theory of squash": Their shots should be "deep and crisp and even." One day in a tennis match, Hammy remarked, "I wanted to hit that shot so badly and that is exactly how I hit it." On Life: When Hammy moved into 9 Elliot Street after his retirement, he said, "The way to be unforgettable is to be unavoidable." As time went on, Hammy said he had two speeds, "neutral and park." On turning 80: "I don't have to answer any question which begins with 'why'." According to Hammy, the four ingredients of a full life are pride in the past; patience in the present; faith in the future; delight in the doing. -Donald C. Dunbar '45(Hon.) Excerpted from a eulogy delivered at a memorial service for H. Hamilton Bissell '29, held at the Exeter Congregational Church on December 8, 2000.

"It takes a special sort of sensitivity to help proud people," notes instructor Allan Wooley '54, the Bradbury Longfellow Cilley Professor of Greek, "and to ensure that they keep their pride and still recognize the worth of what they have been given. [Hammy] had the people-knowledge and the directness to make it work." It was Hammy who assigned boys their scholarship jobs on campus, and he had a knack for matching up jobs and personalities. Hammy could speak quite sharply if he thought someone was faking or not trying. But he is most often remembered as a man whose reprimands sounded like encouragement, and one who opened doors where others might have closed them. "When my father put me in the care of Hamilton Bissell '29," recalls the Rev. Tim Cogan '52, "little did I know that it was going to make a man of me. He tried to get through to me prep and lower years, informing me that I was the only faculty waiter reported in seven years for substandard behavior. Finally, at the end of upper year, he had to take my scholarship away-but he also gave me a way back; 'Go see if the Boys Club of New York will give you a summer job; if you get a good report, we'll see about reinstating you.' Not immediately, but by spring of senior year I was on 'full scholarship,' and as proud of myself as I had ever been. My attitude [was] changed forever by an honest and caring man."

Hammy had influence in larger circles too. Former treasurer Jim Griswold acknowledges that an unlooked-for bonus to Hammy's genius with people and his scholarship-boy networking was the discovery of new sources of significant financial help to the school. Hammy's leadership helped convince philanthropist Edward C. Simmons, who had no prior connection to Exeter, that gifts to the Academy were a good investment opportunity. Simmons' 1964 bequest of $5 million was one of the largest gifts ever made to an independent school. Between 1946 and 1960, when Hammy was director of scholarships, at least 50 new scholarship funds were established at the Academy, and Griswold believes that Hammy was responsible, directly or indirectly, for each of them. Currently there are five scholarship or teaching funds that were established in Hammy's honor during his lifetime.

Hammy-who served as coxswain of successful crew teams at Exeter and Harvard and who coached Exeter's varsity crew from 1936 until 1948-was all smiles at the 1989 christening of the Hammy, a girls rowing shell. With him is George Underwood '46.

Hammy traveled over 400,000 miles at a relentless pace in search of bright students, bringing close to 800 of them to campus. In 1960 he stepped down as director of scholarships. In 1962, after a year's leave, he began work in the alumni affairs office. He became alumni secretary in 1963, and associate director of development in 1972. Having ushered in generations of Exeter students, Hammy was eminently qualified to develop their continuing relationships with the school. Rob Trowbridge '50 summed up the felicitousness of Hammy's new role in his dedication of the bicentennial edition of the Academy Directory: "For many scholarship students, including myself, an interview with H. Hamilton Bissell concerning scholarship jobs was one of the first and most delightful contacts with Exeter. While we were supposedly talking about jobs, it soon appeared that Mr. Bissell was truly interested in our progress. Then, as one graduated into the alumni or alumnae ranks, there was Hammy Bissell in his role of alumni director, ever willing to treat you as someone important, as an adult worth cultivating and always as a friend." In all, seven classes -1932, '36, '38, '42, '44, '45 and '60-made Hammy an honorary member.

Hammy referred to these years as "the least demanding and possibly the most educational of my Exeter years. I found myself surrounded by 15,000 of the most remarkable representatives of any school or college in this or any other country. Linked from the beginning by the universal experience of struggle, they cherish and sustain the principle of unity without unanimity, which is so essential an ingredient of a democracy." Such a succinct statement of a vast concept was classic Hammy.

A Farewell Parade for Mr. Exeter I first met Mr. Bissell in the fall of 1954, but I really didn't begin to know him until some 22 years later, when, in 1976, my family and I moved into our home at 72 Front Street. The Bissells' back porch overlooked our backyard, with a neighbor's yard in between. This arrangement worked well for everyone. They were far enough back to be safe from foul balls, and we were close enough to them to enjoy jazz or a Red Sox game coming from their back porch on a quiet afternoon. Soon they asked our kids to call them "Uncle" and "Aunt," and they were Aunt Sally and Uncle Hammy to all of us ever after. Then Sally died in 1987. After months of painful and thoughtful grieving, Hammy gradually began to resume the routine that he would keep for most of the rest of his life. Of course, his family and his army of friends had helped him through, but in typical Hammy fashion, he had analyzed the situation and decided there was a sort of timetable to the grieving process, and that it was time to emerge from his self-imposed isolation. "Once Hammy smiled at you," recalls one alumnus, "you simply didn't forget it." Here, Hammy watches from his porch as the Wells-Kerr House is moved from Tan Lane to Elliot Street. One of the first routines that Hammy resumed was his habit of lunching with some of his special pals in the PEA dining hall. He enjoyed these times with small groups of friends, just as he appreciated the many Exonian visitors who would knock on his door when they were in town. Reunion weekends were particularly exhilarating for him. And [though he no longer participated in sports as he once had,] he rode his bike! A favorite route seemed to be out across the playing fields to the planetarium and back. There was always plenty of time to chat with friends that he met. If these friends were accompanied by their dogs, so much the better. I have one final memory [that] sums up much of what was most important to Hammy. On June 27, 1999, just a few weeks before Hammy left Exeter for the final time, Wells-Kerr House was moved from its longtime site on Tan Lane to its present location on Elliot Street. Shortly before 5 a.m., this first Academy building started its journey up the hill, past Phillips Church. Accompanied by hundreds of spectators, [it] made its final turn onto Elliot Street. And there was Hammy, seated in a rocking chair on his front porch. A constant stream of friends called greetings or stopped to chat. Meanwhile, this 216-year-old symbol of Academy history inched past. Somehow it seemed entirely appropriate that his beloved Phillips Exeter Academy had arranged this wonderful farewell parade for their soon-to-be-departing friend. - David Bohn '57 Excerpted from a eulogy delivered at a memorial service for H. Hamilton Bissell '29, held at the Exeter Congregational Church on December 8, 2000.