Bill was the sort of principal boys found appealing. He loved the outdoors and he was enthusiastically interested in sports. Boys seeking to be men liked and admired this man-already gray-headed-who had not forgotten how to be a boy. Instead of reading from Mark Twain or James Thurber in morning chapel, as Lewis Perry had done, he spoke directly with spare words of advice. "Work and be friendly," he would say, and he was the model. He was always available, always approachable. A young teacher recalled washing dishes with Bill, a man in town wrote about playing with him on the town hockey team, a student remembered learning from him how to grip a squash racquet. A devoted family man, he could often be seen playing the piano at children's parties and singing in a lusty voice. For the teachers, Exeter in the Saltonstall years was a warm, happy place, in which people knew each other well. The faculty was comparatively small and unusually stable-one English teacher, for example, noted that after 18 years he ranked 11th in seniority in his department. This was the era in which the term "faculty-run school" was most appropriate. It was the heyday of the faculty meeting, at which all teachers, regardless of seniority, discussed and decided academic matters and student discipline. This kind, even-tempered man presided over Exeter during a prosperous era in which the Academy took on the responsibilities of a national school. As the school reached out, it also changed within. The faculty dropped the Latin requirement and a faculty committee produced a report calling for other major changes. An art gallery and a music building were built, a school minister and a school psychiatrist appointed. To support the changes, the Academy's resources were strengthened. After Lewis Perry brought Exeter the Harkness plan, Bill Saltonstall brought out the full potential of the plan by making Exeter a modern national school.

-H. Hamilton Bissell, Donald B. Cole, Donald C. Dunbar and John B. Heath

In 1946, William Saltonstall declared his vision for the school: that Exeter "become a more truly national school...by attracting first-rate boys from the most distant parts of the country..." He forthwith made Hammy his agent in carrying out that vision. But for Hammy a national school had also to be a democratic school. "In a democracy," he said, "everyone should have the opportunity to become his own true size, and among the resources which can best be used to achieve this result is the scholarship." Years earlier, in his deed of gift, John Phillips had instructed Phillips Exeter to offer places to "poor boys of promising genius." Hammy was poised to follow that instruction, but he articulated it in his own memorable words: "I am looking for boys," he said, "who are long on brains and short on cash." In a fashion that has produced legend, Hammy looked everywhere for such boys, as well as the men or the women behind them. In 16 years, he traveled some 400,000 miles, discovering along the way that a fertile constituency for his search were circulation managers of newspapers, a discovery that, over the years, resulted in scholarships for some 800 "newsboys," one of whom [later became] head of the Exeter board of trustees. Hammy ever kept in mind his own assertion: "Scholarships are not primarily dollars and cents. Scholarships are people."

-Richard S. Aaronian, William J. Dennehy, Donald C. Dunbar, Peter C. Greer, P. Richard Mahoney and David E. Thomas

Ralph Lovshin's obsession, even his religion, was track. Appointed in 1934, he coached track at Exeter for 52 years. Although he retired officially in 1976, nothing changed. Only those who had heard the announcement or read of it in The Exonian knew that he had retired; certainly no student who arrived at Exeter after 1976 had any inkling that he had retired. He went on coaching until the last week of his life and watched the first Interschols on the new Lovshin Track from his car the Saturday before his death from cancer on May 23, 1987. Ralph was always a student-coach, always observing, reading, trying himself to learn. At the end of every practice he would, according to his colleagues, sit in the locker room, go over his notes for the afternoon and ask himself about each student listed, "Have I taught this boy or girl something today?" Then he would vow to work specifically the next day on those he hadn't touched.

-David K. Dimmock, Alan H. Estey, John B. Heath, Brian G. Morgan and Roger A. Nekton

Jack will best be remembered by generations of students and instructors as the consummate teacher. Those who had him in class say that he taught by the power of example. They recall his challenging assignments both in and out of the classroom, as well as his famous and frequent hour exams. His home became a "home away from home" for many students. He was always welcoming and available to help them in solving problems, whether related to mathematics or to some of the less quantitative aspects of young lives. His ability to listen, sympathize and advise with firm kindness and integrity is still well remembered.

-David H. Arnold, Donald C. Dunbar, Paul D. Goldenheim, James W. Griswold, M. Spruill Kilgore, Ransom V. Lynch, Robert N. Shapiro and David E. Thomas

Among Ernie Gillespie's contributions to Exeter the greatest was the homely quality of his virtues-wisdom and patience. His respect for people, young or old, insisted that they be heard before being judged, and judged only if necessary. But Ernie's identification of himself with Phillips Exeter tolerated no infringement of the ideal, so that he always had a clear vision and an untroubled conscience when he had to exercise authority in the Academy's behalf. A proposal might be half-baked, but if he believed it represented a possible contribution to Exeter, he supported it and was not deterred by those who viewed it with alarm. At the same time, even when the suggestion claimed the excitement of intellectual novelty, he rejected it flatly and was undisturbed by opposition if he thought it was wrong for Exeter.

-Robert W. Kesler, Robert M. Galt and David D. Coffin

Phillips 1 was the perfect milieu for Henry Bragdon's talents. The table was piled high with books, shelves loaded with more books; and files stuffed with newspapers, pictures and clippings. Beside him on the table were worn volumes with little cattails marking choice readings for the appropriate moment. And always Mr. Dooley. Cartoons, maps, old covers from Life and Punch on the walls. A small podium so that students could stand and give reports, for Henry, a competitive debating coach, believed in creating a farm system. So vivid was the atmosphere that school guides were always tapping at the door to allow visitors a peek at the Harkness plan in action.

-Phillips E. Wilson, Donald B. Cole, Albert C. Ganley and Charles L. Terry.