The other day upon returning home from St. Clairsville, I was stopped at the light between the end of the off ramp beside Perkins and National Road when I suddenly realized I was humming strains of the Linsly Military Institute alma mater.

While I sat there wondering what had precipitated that particular melody to work its way into my subconscious, it hit me. I was staring off to the right where the Mt. de Chantal Kroger store and its adjacent parking lot that now sit in the space formerly occupied by Linsly School’s Old Main building and its adjacent drill field.

Thanks for What We Don’t Have

I was graduated from Linsly in 1959, and even though that was 60 years ago, the memories I have of the three years I was enrolled there are as clear as if they occurred yesterday. I also recall vividly my first meeting with the late Col. Basil G. Lockhart for my pre-enrollment interview in his office, where I looked through one of his windows to see the football team practicing on a field across the creek. I would come to know both that creek and that field very well in the ensuing three years. And I also will be forever indebted to Col. Lockhart, first for accepting me as a student and then for hiring me as a faculty member 10 years later.

The New Kid at Linsly School

I came to Linsly as a sophomore from Bethany, W.Va., where on Sunday nights I would prepare for school the next day by making sure I knew where my sneakers and jeans were. I’ll never forget the Sunday evening after my first week at Linsly when I had to make certain my uniform was clean and pressed, my hair was cut properly, my shoes spit-shined (something I had never heard of before), and my belt buckle polished, all in preparation for inspection on Monday morning.

A photo of a high school in Wheeling.
Banes Hall replaced “Old Main” when the school moved east. The Linsley School’s campus is now more than 60 acres.

Linsly School Memories

As I sat in my car waiting for the light to change, the memories of my time at Linsly flooded my brain, and here, in no particular order, are the most vivid ones.

  • On my first day meeting the recently (Aug. 6) late Bill Wilson, who took me under his wing, showed me some of the ropes, helped me through the first traumatic new-kid-at-school days, and ultimately became one of my best friends. Bill lost a courageous and horrific battle with cancer, and although we were not in touch throughout our later years, I never forgot his kindness during my early time at Linsly.
  • Learning that the front steps of Old Main were reserved for visitors, faculty members, and senior cadets. One of my proudest moments was upon returning to school after summer vacation for my senior year and walking though those front doors to gaze at the drill field from a view forbidden during my sophomore and junior years.
  • Going cold with fear the first time I laid eyes on the late Capt. Douglas Haigwood standing at the end of the hallway near his classroom with his arms akimbo and wearing his patented glare as classes changed. Subsequently I learned that beneath that don’t-you-dare-step-out-line-or-you’ll-have-to-answer-to-me facade was a great guy with the proverbial heart of gold. Even so, when I joined the faculty at Linsly, I still had a difficult time calling him Doug.

No Peanut Butter Sandwiches Here

  • Walking into the cafeteria on the first day of school and seeing the incredible smorgasbord presented by Mrs. Becker and her crew. I was anticipating a peanut butter sandwich or maybe even a hot dog, and so I was completely unprepared for a spread that included everything from cold cuts to REAL roast beef with REAL mashed potatoes and REAL gravy accompanied by HOMEMADE cakes and pies for dessert. When my father saw the first month’s lunch bill, I thought he was going to faint.
  • Meeting for the first time the late Miss Lucille Munn, who, in addition to serving as Col. Lockhart’s secretary and the Linsley School’s receptionist, ministered to cadets’ needs in everything from the homesickness of the boarding students to being an emergency seamstress for last-minute repairs to uniforms before morning inspection. Miss Munn devoted her life to serving the faculty, staff, and students, and it was my good fortune to count her as a dear friend after I joined the faculty. In my opinion, she was the very heart of the Linsly School.

Most Influential Teacher

  • Entering the room for English class and laying eyes for the first time on the man who ultimately would have more influence on me than any other teacher I had all the way through college and graduate school. He was the late Capt. Gordon Crawford, a diminutive man resembling a pleasant garden gnome, but his stature belied his booming voice. I immediately noticed that he had a string around his neck, and the end of it disappeared into his shirt pocket. What could possibly be in that pocket? My curiosity remained painfully piqued until one day he finally pulled on that string, and out from his shirt pocket popped a monocle. A honest-to-goodness monocle. Heretofore I was so naïve that I thought only Mr. Peanut of Planters fame wore a monocle. During my three years under his tutelage Capt. Crawford instilled in      me a love for literature, grammar, and writing, something that I attempted to do with my own students during a teaching career that spanned more than four decades.
  • Participating in two Linsly minstrels performed at the now long defunct Virginia Theater, once the home of the WWVA Jamboree. In addition to being a lot of fun, the minstrel, directed by Capt. Haigwood (see … I still can’t call him Doug), showed a completely different side of the stern-faced man standing at the end of the hallway when classes changed. This Capt. Haigwood was a complete delight, and when I returned to join the faculty, I quickly learned that this was the real Doug. (There! I said it!)

Returning

  • Returning to Linsly School as a member of the English department and meeting the late Capt. David Judy, whose counsel during my first year of teaching was invaluable to me and who ultimately became my lifelong closest friend.
  • Putting on the full-dress uniform and going to the annual military ball at the Pine Room in Oglebay.
  • Making my first, but far from last, trip across that amazing swinging bridge that spanned Big Wheeling Creek.
  • Returning to campus after my honeymoon with my wife, Jane (now married 54 years and counting), and ultimately assuming my new duties as head housemaster in Merriman Hall.

Out of the corner of my eye moving traffic as the light changed interrupted my reverie. But I found myself humming the alma mater all the way home.

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