Dear Friends,

This is something that has been tugging at me for at least the last 20 years and probably longer. The general idea has always been to tell the story of one year—specifically the school year of 1964-65—at Exeter. It was, I think, part of a pivotal era in the history of the school—a time of transition from an old administration to a new one, from one approach toward academics to another, and one of the last years before coeducation. And, of course, it was quite a significant time in my own life. So, I think there’s a story in there somewhere.

The working title, since forever, has been Finny’s Friends. Yes, a nod to John Knowles’ volume about the Devon school. But related to that, there’s a little epigram that comes from my own life. I’ve always imagined it as one of those little bits that real authors use to start off a book, right after the dedications and such. The text goes like this.

When I was very small, my mother had bowl with three goldfish in it. She named them Finny, Finny’s Friend, and Finny’s Friend’s Friend.

I’m not at all sure that the working title will survive the writing process, but I am confident that the epigram will make its way into the text in some form.

When I left Exeter, I did not believe I could be a writer. I was disabused of any thoughts that I could communicate successfully with words when I received my first grade in English 1—a D-minus from Jack Heath. (I never rose above a C-minus and ended the year with a solid D-plus.) Given that experience, it was a surprise when, a little less than a decade later, I started teaching myself how to type and apprenticed myself into the newspaper business. I ended up making a living as a writer of some sort or other for the next 40 years.

But I wasn’t a “books” sort of writer—not unless you count operator’s manuals for hydraulic cranes. Newspapers, advertising, PR, marketing, angry letters for irate bosses—that was my stock in trade. I have, however, in the years since becoming gainfully unemployed, proved to myself that I can do longer projects. Click here for information about them.

Deep down, though, I’m still a kind of a newspaper guy. And truthfully, my perspective on Exeter was limited. As I’ve been working on this project in early days, I’ve realized how “hunkered down” I was at PEA. I think that is part of the story I want to tell, but there is a lot more information that I need to complete the tale. Some of it is in the details. Was ringing the Chapel bells a scholarship job? What kind of competition was there for academic honors? Was it cutthroat? Does anyone remember Patricia Ferrazzano? And there are, based on conversations I have had so far, some wonderful parts of the story that I am only discovering now.

This project, if it comes to pass, will be a work of fiction. I will not use the real names of students and most faculty and administrators. That said, I think a few real people will appear, including a few coaches and Bill Saltonstall in absentia.

If you’re reading this, it is most likely that I’ve contacted you by e-mail and asked to interview you—to have a talk about that year at Exeter, recollections, anecdotes, details about “stuff,” things that made you laugh, anything else. I’m just an old newspaper reporter working on a story, and I need to talk to more sources to get a better picture of what really went on back then.

If you’re willing to help me out, please send me an e-mail message. Give me a good number to call and a couple of good times. It’s easier for me to initiate calls, so I can use my tech to be hands-free and ready to take notes.

Thank you very much for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

Ridge