Contemporary gospel artist Deitrick Haddon was born and raised in Detroit, Michigan, where he served as pastor and music director at Detroit's Unity Cathedral of Faith. As the son of Bishop Clarence Haddon and Prophetess Joyce Haddon, he grew up in the church and preached his first sermon at the age of 11. Deitrick Haddon and his Voices of Unity drew upon both secular and spiritual influences to create a sound they dubbed 'gospel soul.'

Signed to the Tyscot label, the group debuted in 1995 with Come Into This House. Two years later, Haddon and company issued Live the Life, which scored Gospel Music Workshop of America Excellence Awards in the categories of New Artist of the Year: Urban Contemporary and Album of the Year: Urban Contemporary. After This Is My Story (1998), Chain Breaker (1999), and Nu Hymnz: Live from the Motor City (2001), Haddon went solo and signed to the Verity label. Through releases such as Lost and Found (2002), the Tim & Bob collaboration 7 Days (2006), Church on the Moon (2011), A Beautiful Soul (2012), and R.E.D.

(2013), Haddon maintained his reputation for pushing the boundaries of contemporary gospel. During the mid-2010s, he became even more visible through the reality series Preachers of LA and continued to release albums that topped Billboard's gospel chart, including Deitrick Haddon's LXW (2014) and Masterpiece (2015). In 2017, Haddon released a live LP, Deitrick Haddon & Hill City Worship Camp, led by the single 'A Billion People.' ~ Jason Ankeny • ORIGIN Detroit, MI • BORN May 17, 1973.

Full text of ' Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 The Company We Keep In his play Six Degrees of Separation, John Guare writes that each of us con- nects with everyone in the world: Within six steps, you know someone who knows someone who knows. Well, everyone. Fewer than six degrees separate you from the following lumi- naries, however, for they're all members of the Phillips and Abbot Academy family. Can you name these alumni? This is the third quiz in a series of four; answers appear on page 73.

Once the owner of a major league football team, this executive was also chairman and CEO of a personal care prod- ucts business; in fact, his face was so familiar you probably saw him shaving it on TV. Besides helping preserve Yosemite Park as a public space, this 19th century landscape architect designed New York's Central Park and Boston's Emerald Necklace, substantially defining the way we look at cities. Formerly editor of Sassy magazine, she now edits a hip, hot monthly for young people that is so her it actually bears her first name as its title. (Hint: It's not Oprah.) 4. Once a New York house painter, this former PA wrestler became a giant of abstract impressionism.

Today he is widely known for his large-scale sculpture for public spaces. Namesake of Phillips Academy's library, he was a literary leader and doctor in 19th century New England. One of his poems led to the preservation of an ancient battleship that's now a major tourist attraction in Boston. The first celebrated U.S.

Sculptor, he was a Harvard stu- dent when he won a public competition by designing a famil- iar Boston obelisk. Later, the neoclassicist shocked Yankee sen- sibilities by rendering George Washington nude in marble. As a top-level editor, he has penned 100-plus cover stories for Newsweek on subjects ranging from war to politics to celebrity profiles. A biographer of Robert Kennedy and John Paul Jones, he's been seen on 'Meet the Press,' 'Today,' 'Face the Nation,' 'Nightline' and 'Good Morning America.' PA's past high commissioner of stickball, he went on to own a baseball team. Today he plays a higher-stakes game on a much wider field.

When he was only in his 30s, this pop culture icon unex- pectedly inherited his father's title, profession and prized asso- ciates — including a singing frog, a pig and a grouch. Biographer of Antoine de Saint-Exupery, this literary luminary won the Pulitzer Prize for her biography of novelist Vladimir Nabokov's wife. ANDOVER BULLETIN The ANDOVER BULLETIN is published four mes a year, fall, winter, spring and sum- ner, by the Office of Communications at 'hillips Academy, 1 80 Main Street, Andover MA 01 8 10-41 61. Wain PA Phone 978-749-4000 Changes of address: 978-749-4269; I urn n i-records@a ndover. Ed u -'hillips Academy Web site: ittp://www.

Andover. Autocad 2007 Crack Free Download Myegy there. edu Bulletin Phone 978-749-4040 Bulletin Fax 978-749-4272 e-mail: tpease@andover.edu Periodicol postage poid al Andover MA and at additional mailing offices. Postmasters: Send address changes lo: Andover Bulletin, Phillips Academy, 1 80 Main Street, Andover MA 01 8 10-41 61 ISSN-0735-5718 Fall 2003 Volume 97/Number 1 Publisher Peter R. Ramsey Secretary of the Academy Director of Communications Sharon Britton Editor Theresa Pease Director of Editorial Services Art Director Ellen Hardy Director of Design Services Assistant Editors Sharon Magnuson Paula Trespas Class Notes Coordinator Patricia Gerety Class Notes Assistant Maggie Carbone Contributing Writers Kennan Daniel Tana Sherman Design and Production Assistant Kennan Daniel Mailing Coordinator Christine Pool Photography: Lionel Delevingne, Theresa Pease, J.D.

Sloan All photos copyrighted Printed on recycled paper Cover: Head of School Barbara Chase, shown amid U.S. And interna- tional students, talks on pages 2-5 about the challenges of educating the next generation. Photo by Bethany Versoy. DEPARTMENTS 2 2 Andover Bookshelf 23 News Notes 25 Al umni News 26 Class Notes 76 In Memoriam FEATURES WHAT'S UP? CULTIVATING THE NEXT GENERATION 2 by Theresa Pease Barbara Landis Chase, beginning her 10th year as head of school at Phillips Academy, talks about her time on the hill and about the road ahead.

0,'@angimia Oooh well done, is very rainy and wet here unfortunately so walking is not so much fun today '. 0,I have an odd desire to play. 4,'Michael Jackson, Bebe & CeCe Winans, Sting, Deitrick Haddon, Salvador, Souljahz/Washington Projects, J. Timberlake, Hillsong 2 name a few '. 4,@_CrC_ thanks for the rt I.

FROM EGG ROLLS TO BLUE GINGER O by Tana Sherman Inaugurating our new feature slot on alumni newsmakers is Ming Tsai '82, restaurateur, cookbook author and star of the new public television program 'Simply Ming.' 8 THE DRAW OF DOWN EAST by Theresa Pease While their classmates are flourishing on Wall Street, in Hollywood or at other centers of power, some PA graduates opt for a simpler life in Coastal Maine. REPORT OF GIVING 2002-03 Our annual summary of philanthropic donations to Andover begins facing page 76. HEAD OF SCHOOL BARBARA LANDIS CHASE Cultivating the Next Generation As Phillips Academy opened its doors for the fall trimester, Barbara Landis Chase began her 10th year as head of school at Andover. In an interview with Andover Bulletin editor Theresa Pease, Chase talks about her time on the hill and about the road ahead.

Prior to entering your 1 Oth year at Andover, you took a part'year sabbatical. What did you do during that time? I spent four months during the 2002-03 school year as a visiting scholar at the University of California at Berkeley.

I also spent time with my West Coast family. Living in an apartment near the university and only two blocks from my daughter, son-in-law and three- year-old grandson, I spent hours and hours in the library and book- stores. And I babysat.

It was a great combination. What was your research about?

I was studying the reform move- ments of the 1830s and 1840s — in particular the abolition movement in the United States. This is the first time since working on my graduate thesis in history that I was able to immerse myself so fully in one sub- ject — to eat, drink and breathe a topic day in and day out.

Why was this important to you? This subject has been of long- standing fascination to me, and there is an interesting PA connec- tion. Many of the principal partici- pants in the abolition movement were in some way connected with the Andover Theological Seminary, which coexisted on the hill with Phillips Academy from 1808 through 1908. The seminary leaders, quite orthodox in theology, sup- ported the colonizationist move- ment, as did most of the established clergy at that time. The coloniza- tionists favored a gradualist approach that aimed to send former slaves to Africa. The immediatist position, which called for immediate abolition of slavery, began in the 1830s to capture the support of many students at both the academy and the seminary, and they attempted to begin abolitionist societies. They were denied permis- sion by the faculty and admin- istration.

The seminarians agreed to this edict. The academy students did not; more than 40 of them left the academy in protest. The incident provides a great window on the relationship between the seminary and the academy.

So you indulged your passion for history? Yes, and, in a more general way, I reconnected with scholarship.

Because of the context in which we operate, leaders of educational insti- tutions today are inevitably drawn away from the heart of the educa- tional enterprise. You can lose sight of the fact that it's all about what happens in the classroom.

This experience put me in touch with all that again. After my return to Andover last spring, I was an adviser on an independent project with a terrific senior, Meg Coffin. We explored abolitionism, and then she concentrated her research on a particular women's abolition convention. Through that lens, we examined the nexus of the abolitionist movement and the women's rights movement in the 19th century. It was great fun. Did you miss Andover Hill?

I missed the people — the students, the faculty, those I work with closely. But I knew everything would be fine here on campus. I had been very much involved in planning what was to take place while I was away, and I had regular check-ins with Rebecca Sykes, associate head of school, who stepped in as acting head during my leave. Becky is a gifted leader, and I had left in place an extremely strong administrative team, so I never worried. What has been the focus of your time at Andover so far? Actually, I think focus has been the focus of the last decade: identifying what needed to be done and doing it. When I arrived on campus in 1994, the academy had just com- pleted the Long Range Plan of 1993, a well-thought-out study that high- lighted the quality of residential life as its highest priority.

It also directed us to appoint a faculty steering committee to look at the academic program and to address deferred maintenance on campus. In all these areas, we have made great strides. The Strategic Plan of 1996 enlarged on the '93 plan and added the goal of launching a major fund-raising campaign.

Nine years later, it's quite gratifying that, in no small measure because of Campaign Andover, we have accomplished almost every- thing we set out to do. We also added some new initiatives in that time, such as building the Gelb 3 Science Center. I can never say too often how grateful I feel for all the help we've had in getting this work done.

Can you be more specific about what was accomplished? Well, to begin with, we reduced the size of the school, which allowed us to take some older dorms offline and to have more and higher quality res- idential interaction between adults and students by adding fac- ulty apartments to large dorms.

We made strides in raising faculty compensation and endowed more of our financial aid scholarships, two essential objectives if Andover is to maintain excellent teachers and stu- dents. Besides building the Gelb Science Center, we refurbished Cochran Chapel and increased its seating capacity, making it a more spacious meeting place for the whole school. We cre- ated the Shuman Admission Center, built the Harrison Rink, made numerous repairs to dorms, wired the campus and introduced state-of- the art technology. We greatly increased the budget for campus preservation, and along the way we enlarged the endowment. And all this was done with an eye toward keeping the lid on costs — for exam- ple, we made the facilities better, but not bigger. You've announced that we've begun a new strategic planning process. Why is that necessary if we've come so far?

Institutions must always look for- ward. Five to seven years is a reason- able time between planning processes. I'm delighted that the planning committee is so strong and so representative; it includes trustees, faculty and administrators with a broad range of ages and per- spectives. The committee will com- plete its work next summer and report to the Board of Trustees in October 2004. What does the academy hope to gain through the process?

The committee will follow a classic strategic planning process that looks at the strengths and relative weak- nesses of the institution in the con- text of what's going on internally, as well as in the larger world. For example, student demographics are changing. In the years ahead, the number of school-aged children will be on the decline. We have to know how that will affect us. We need to decide how to respond to this and many other challenges by bolstering our great strengths and shoring up our weaknesses. What are you most interested in looking?

We've always worked on the as- sumption that maintaining the strength of the faculty and student body is our top priority. But we've had many other issues to juggle, too, such as catching up on deferred maintenance and funding technology. Now, in my view, it is time to put faculty and students in ever-sharper focus.

Each year, a handful of our most experienced and legendary teachers retire. Younger teachers coming up to take their places encounter challenges different from those their predecessors faced. How can we nurture this rising generation of teachers — these Andover legends in the making? With students, on the other hand, we must address the issue of ongoing affordability.

How can we ensure that a Phillips Academy edu- cation, already expensive, does not become impossible for everyone but the wealthy? How do we continue to recruit and enroll youth from every quarter — students of great promise in terms of character and intellect? 'Each year; a handful of our most experienced and legendary teachers retire. Younger teachers coming up to take their places encounter challenges different from those their predecessors faced.'

4 I want us also to continue paying attention to how we encour- age each student to understand his or her individual role in creating a good community. This is the part of education that has to do with good- ness as well as knowledge. This is the part that focuses on preparing them for what the Phillips Academy constitution calls 'the great end and real business of living.' In addition, I would love to find ways to help the internal community — faculty and students — understand and accept the importance of philan- thropy. There tends to be a divide between the peo- ple who are teaching and keeping school and the people who are out raising funds. My own work com- bines these two endeavors, and so perhaps I stand in a unique position to bridge that gap, to help everyone recognize that philan- thropy has made this school great.

We have to cultivate the next generation of donors just as we cultivate the next generation of teachers. What administrative challenges does Andover face? We will soon have some significant turnover of leadership. Board of Trustees President David M. Underwood '54 will retire from the Phillips Academy Board of Trustees next June.

Dean of Studies Vincent Avery is stepping down from that rotating position, and Chief Financial Officer Neil Cullen is retiring. We are searching for a new director of the Addison Gallery as Adam Weinberg heads off to lead the Whitney Museum in New York. These are normal pas- sages in the life of an institution, but they will be difficult for me, especially because these are such talented and dedicated colleagues.

What a privilege it has been for 'We need to moke sure that all of us — faculty, staff, parents and the program — are working together to help our young people develop and reach their potential, intellectually, aesthetically, socially and morally.' Me to have David Underwood, a great leader, as president of the board during my years at Andover to date! For him it is the end of 20 years of board service and 14 as pres- ident. We are very fortunate for the long tenure of our board members. David is a sterling example. Do you envision a theme for Andover in the next decade? Yes, I go back to the notion of the community and the individual's place in it.

We need to make sure that all of us — faculty, staff, par- ents and the program — are working together to help our young people develop and reach their potential, 'intellectually, aesthetically, socially and morally,' to quote the academy's statement of purpose. Tending to the 'goodness and knowledge' aspect of a young per- son's development within a diverse social context is a great challenge. But we are blessed with a remarkable collection of minds and hearts to bring to the task.

The ability to teach and to model 'goodness and knowledge' in an around-the-clock commu- nity is really what makes this experience unique. Let's make the most of it!

□ 5 WHO'S HOT? By Tana Sherman Fven at age 10, Ming Tsai '82 was an entrepreneur with good business sense. His parents owned a Chinese restaurant in Dayton, Ohio, and each day young Ming would peddle 100 egg rolls from a street cart for $1 each.

He'd proudly return to the restaurant with $70, explaining that he had given away 30 egg rolls free to potential customers. 'It's public rela- tions,' he told his mother. 'They'll come to the restaurant later.'

His words proved prophetic. Today, crowds flock to Blue Ginger, Ming's East-West bistro in Wellesley, Mass., which was rated by the 2002- 03 Zagat Restaurant Guide as the 'Second Most Popular Boston Restaurant.' Ming was named '2002 Best Chef Northeast' by the James Beard Foundation, and, in a program that began this fall, millions of cooking devotees are learning to pre- pare East- West dishes from his new public television show, 'Simply Ming.' 'Cooking, like any form of art, is an expression of the individual,' says Ming, 'but cooking is the only art that uses every sense.' He believes all artists are influenced by three factors: mentors, environment and available materials.

Born in the United States of Chinese descent, he trained as a chef in Paris and Osaka. His combi- nation of Eastern and Western tech- niques and ingredients produces food that is bold in flavor and has con- trasting textures, temperatures and colors.

Although many of his cre- ations are inherently healthy, he emphasizes he is not a diet chef. 'Simply Ming' is co-produced by Ming and Boston's WGBH, which hasn't produced a full national cooking program since Julia Child's series went off the air. In each of 26 episodes, Ming prepares a master sauce and then uses it to make three dishes.

For example, in one show, a curry-ginger oil is the base for wok- stirred curry ginger chicken with zucchini; wok-stirred curry and gin- ger beef with leeks; and oven-baked curry ginger sweet potato fries. Celebrity chefs making guest appearances include Todd English, Jody Adams, Ken Oringer and Jasper White. The show is videotaped in a custom-built kitchen in a new 30,000-square-foot showroom in Milford, Mass. A companion cook- book, also called Simply Ming, is in bookstores nationwide. 'The fact that I can help people bring East-West cuisine into their homes makes me feel good,' he says.

Ming's enterprises also include the Blue Ginger line of cooking and preparation accessories, created in partnership with Target stores to allow home cooks to experiment and create their own versions of East-West cuisine. His Web site at www.ming.com features an online store carrying his signature Kyocera ceramic knives, apparel, tea rubs, sauces, maitake mushrooms and chopping blocks. Although he values his educa- tion at Andover, where he enjoyed varsity soccer, squash and tennis and was active in the Asian Society, Ming says he wasn't inspired by the food.

He remembers complaining to a cook in Commons about fried fish being served two days in a row. The chef replied, 'No, yesterday we had fried fish; today we have fried fish with cheese.' Following in his father's foot- steps, he earned a degree in mechani- cal engineering at Yale. For a seminar on entrepreneurship, he wrote a busi- ness plan for opening a restaurant. After graduation, his parents sup- ported his decision to become a chef, advising, 'You can do anything as long as you do it 120 percent.' He studied at the Cordon Bleu in Paris, then with a sushi master in Japan.

After earning a master's degree in hotel administration and hospitality marketing from Cornell, he worked at restaurants in Chicago, Atlanta, Santa Fe and several California towns, but he says he kept getting fired for wanting to do things his way. 6 The last straw was a restaurant owner who brought Ming a copy of Sunset magazine containing a chicken caesar recipe which she asked him to follow exactly. Ming walked out, and five years ago opened Blue Ginger, where he knew he couldn't get fired, he says. 'I'm not a control freak. I just like the freedom to make decisions for myself.' In 1998, he became the Emmy Award-winning host of the Food Network's 'East Meets West: Cooking with Ming Tsai' and 'Ming's Quest.' His first cookbook, Blue Ginger: East Meets West Cooking with Ming Tsai, was selected by Food and Wine magazine as one of the 25 best cookbooks of 1999.

Ming says his restaurant took off because of the food and service. 'Our motto is 'You're only as good as your last plate,' he says. On a recent Friday afternoon at 5:15 — just 15 minutes before Blue Ginger opens for dinner — the chef resem- bled a general getting his troops ready as he conferred with his three sous-chefs on the new swordfish dish on the menu, checked reservations with the maitre d', joked with the wait staff and eyed the gleaming sil- ver, cobalt blue glasses and spotless white tablecloths. Later, he strolled from table to table, greeting guests who were delighted to meet the cel- ebrated chef and taste his food. Ming delights in the celebrity resulting from his television expo- sure.

In August, he was invited to throw the opening pitch at a Red Sox game in Fenway Park. However, he points out the distinction between those he calls 'true' celebrities, like Tom Cruise or Jennifer Lopez, and chef celebrities.

'I make food, and in general the food is really good,' he says. 'Foodies love to talk to foodies. People who come up to me just want to talk about food and wine, and I could talk about that all day.'

Ming and his wife, Polly Talbott, reside in Natick, Mass., with their sons, David, 3, and Henry, 1. Last spring, he was invited to give a cooking demonstration for Andover's Asian Arts Week. It was his first visit back to campus in 20 years. His advice to the students who packed the Underwood Room: 'Follow your passion.'

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Oni 0ns, 3, r 1 The of ■ • STORIES AND PHOTOS BY THERESA PEASE he reason stereotypes flourish is that sometimes they are true. Blow a loud whistle at any corner on Wall Street and you'll probably pierce the eardrums of half a dozen Andover graduates. Similar concentrations exist in the District of Columbia halls of power, on the best-seller lists, at jet-set soirees and among the ivied walls of academe. But delve into the fine print of the 2003 alumni directory and you'll find the Maine coastline is dotted with former Phillips and Abbot academy students who make their ways as artists and craftspeople, fishermen and writers. Some are distinctly underemployed by mercenary standards, choosing a calculatedly simple life in order to dwell in their chosen environment. Others have found creative ways to make sure dollars flow their way in spite of the fact they've trodden what Robert Frost would call the road less traveled.

For each of them, place is the important factor. Why live in Maine?

Well, as Frederic 'Mac' McCabe '65 put it, 'You've got to live somewhere, and where else would you live?' A sense of place draws many alumni to Maine for views like this vista (facing page) of Monhegan Island from outside Kathie Krause lannicelli's yard and the panorama (above) that greets Justin Blake from his front porch overlooking the ferry landing at Lincolnsville Beach.

A%rm New World When Charles Durfee '64 decided to move to Maine and work with wood, his parents acted as if he'd jumped on a wagon train to colonize the wild unknown. Though Durfee had grown up a few hours away, in Western Massachusetts, the Durfees' world was the world of academe. His father taught math at Mount Holyoke College, as does his brother Alan '61, and another sibling, William '72, is an engineering professor at the University of Minnesota. 'I was programmed to teach,' jokes Durfee, now a fine cabinet- and furnituremaker, 'but I was the mutant in the family, the left-handed one who didn't get a Ph.D. To my folks, going Down East to build boats didn't seem like a career decision, it seemed like a brave new world; I was almost adopting a different culture and value set. When they grew to understand it better, they were delighted with my career choice.' Apart from building toy boats when he was 8, Durfee did not pick up his tools with purpose until after he had served in Vietnam and dropped out of a doctoral program in history at George Washington University.

His first work was on house construction crews on Cape Cod and in New Hampshire. 'I liked being near the ocean; I liked sailing; I liked the wilderness. I liked working with my hands to make something tangible. I didn't like traffic jams and I didn't like standing in line,' says Durfee, who in 1975 joined a training program in wooden boat building affiliated with a maritime museum in Bath, Maine.

For three years he worked in boatyards, but more and more often he was asked to do projects on his own — not just on boats, but also on kitchens and stairways and doors. The transition to cabinetmaking came smoothly. 'One day,' he says, 'I just realized I hadn't built a boat in a long time.' So he went out and built a fur- niture-making shop behind his house in Woolwich, Maine, within the scent of the ocean and the sound of a lake where loons cry out.

Durfee, whose wife, Jennifer, and children, Willa, 13, and Taylor, 10, enjoy visiting the shop, refers to the place as his haven. But it's a productive haven where home furnishings finely crafted from North American hard- woods take shape under his skilled hands. He designs most of what he makes, working in traditional styles such as Shaker and colonial. Kz 450 Panasonic Manual Download here.

During the Andover Bulletin's summer visit, he was putting 9 finishing touches on a Federal-style side- board whose bowed front was made from quarter-sawn cherry to show the wood's unusual grain. Priced at $6,000, the piece, commissioned by local home builders, had taken him two months to make. Earlier, he had created an oval cherry table with quarter-sawn apron for the same couple, who had learned about his work from a mutual friend. Though he advertises and has a Web site (www.cdurfee.com/home.html), he says the word-of-mouth scenario is more common. People tell people who tell people who somehow find their way to Durfee's little country road.

And the brave new world? Durfee finds a sense of community in Maine that he was missing in Massachusetts. Chair of the local school board, soccer coach and country dance fid- dler, Durfee knows he's where he wants to be, doing what he wants to do. 'Every time I come across that bridge from New Hampshire into Kittery, Maine,' he says, 'I breathe a sigh of relief.' Durfee's studio is his haven.

A Mo^hecjfiiA, felled of person here are no cars, pharmacies or doctors on Monhegan Island, and sometimes the general store runs out- of saltines or soap. The one-hour boat ride from Port Clyde can, even in summer, be an aquatic roller coaster, and in winter the boat comes only three times a week. Monhegan has a population of 65, so if you don't like your abutters, that's tough. You share this speck of rock, earth and forest in an intricate dance that requires calibrating the tensions between people's personal boundaries and their necessary interdependence. With them you curse the invasion of summer folk while offering unspoken thanks for the dollars they bring to the island in exchange for paintings and post- cards, lobsters and lodging.

It takes a certain kind of per- son to live on Monhegan Island, and Kathie Krause lannicelli '62 is one of them. Not always an islander, she was raised at Phillips Exeter Academy, where her father chaired the art department. After Abbot, she studied at the School of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts before returning to Exeter to teach art and falling into a career in stage design. She was doing sets and costumes at Portsmouth, N.H.' S, Theatre by the Sea in 1968 when she met the com- pany's leading man, the late Tom Celli. She married him, had two kids, and followed his career to Australia, then Canada, then back to Portsmouth, with its view of Maine across the Piscataqua River. 10 Seeking a less collaborative and more self-determined life than show business, as well as more time to devote to the precious work of motherhood, Iannicelli eventually took a job in a greenhouse.

But she began to feel drawn to Monhegan, which she'd first visited with an Abbot roommate as a teen. Smitten, Iannicelli had spent her art school summers as a laundress at a local inn and introduced her family to the island, a magnet for artists and naturalists.

She moved to Monhegan in 1985 after a divorce, telling her chil- dren they were embarking on a one- year 'adventure.' Today, her grown son and daughter live off-island, but Iannicelli continues the adventure, dwelling in the village, just up the hill from the ferry landing. From her glassed-in porch, she has a ringside view of a lupine-laced meadow, glo- rious sunrises and a sea of humanity that streams by her door whenever the boat comes in. Most stop to admire her garden — National Geographic recently called her 'the greenest thumb on the island' — and many stop to seek horticultural advice or snap pictures.

'There is something in the landscape here that matches some- thing inside me, and I am taken with the authenticity of many peo- ple who live in Maine,' says Iannicelli, whose year-round neigh- bors include fishermen, artists, writ- ers, home repair contractors and a teacher. One villager, Bryan Hitchcock '51, is a photographer and lobsterman. His daughter, Becka Hitchcock '89, teaches off-season on the mainland but in summer operates one of three pickup trucks that meet the ferry and shuttle visitors' baggage to their island destinations. Iannicelli tries to 'live lightly upon the earth,' she says, eschewing computers and most appliances. Using organic gardening supplies, her business, Island Gardener, cares for 64 Monhegan properties. She makes wreaths of shells and beach glass and weaves baskets from local materials.

She writes poetry. She rents a room to pilots who guide ships through Penobscot Bay.

She sews appliqued church tapestries that evoke stained glass. She is the lay leader of the island church, attends town meeting and for years sat on the island school board, which lately has served three to four children annually. 'I hate it,' she says, 'when peo- ple leaving at the summer's end say they have to go back to 'real life.' To me, this is real life.' At left, Kathie Iannicelli pauses while working in her garden; above, the path to the Monhegan ferry landing provides a tenuous connection to the mainland for Iannicelli and her 64 year-round neighbors. 1 1 f ipping toward the Port Clyde ferry, you'll have no trouble spotting lobster traps and country inns, flea markets and wild blueberry stands. But the only hint of an enchanting sculpture garden is a rural mailbox with the name 'Lindsay.'

Turn right down that driveway, pass through some woods, and you'll emerge in a fairy-tale like scene. Here naked giants walk cloaked in ocean fog, a fanciful mackerel turns on a pole, a weathered gargoyle glares beneath a cluster of foliage. Here are the home and studio of Stephen Lindsay 71, Maine artist. Long Island-born, Lindsay cut his creative teeth on New Yorker cartoons, Charles Addams drawings and the work of Salvador Dali. After excelling in youth classes at the Art Students League of New York, he chose Andover for its nonpareil art facilities and found himself in the group of artists clustered around influential Abbot teacher Virginia Powel in a Draper Hall garret.

After participating in School Year Abroad in France and Operation Cross- roads Africa, Lindsay became interested in international service. Advised by friends in the Peace Corps to hone some hands-on skills, he bypassed col- lege and moved to New York's East Village.

There he played boogie-woogie piano by night in a bar and worked by day on a construction crew while 12 ^fl^ts tiA, the fog making the rounds of the city's furniture artisans. Finally he persuaded Pardini- Bartoli Fine Furniture Company to take him on as an apprentice. At the end of two years learning from Italian immigrant craftsmen the time-honored techniques for turning wood into elegant furnish- ings, Lindsay left the city — not for the Peace Corps, but for Maine, where he'd visited his grandfather as a child.

He got work doing cabinetry on yachts. But when he heard about a distinguished woodworking school in Quebec, he hopped in his car again and crossed the border. To his surprise, the ecole had nothing to do with cabriole legs and dovetail joints, but involved a two-year apprenticeship under wood sculptor Pierre Bourgault. When the course was completed, he moved back to Maine with his first wife, a fellow sculptor, and began to sell his work. Since then, Lindsay has exhib- ited widely and won recognition, including commissions through a Maine program that allows one per- cent of construction costs on public buildings to go for artistic embellish- ment. For one elementary school, he created a huge relief carving of a fabulous lion; when another school wanted a lion, he fashioned a three- dimensional beast for children to climb on and cuddle with in a car- peted library alcove.

For a third school, he reproduced in wood a 1920 schoolyard portrait, giving shape to the identifiable ancestors of children yet in the student body. Lindsay says he takes special satis- faction in projects that require working in close collaboration with communities. Scanning Lindsay's rustic studio, you'll see small models for a life-sized creche carved with a chain saw for a church in Bethlehem, Conn. Nearby is Lindsay s bust of actress Lisa Brenner, a prop for a forthcoming movie called Finding Home, in which Brenner's character falls in love with a Maine sculptor as he carves her likeness. Steve Lindsay (left) spends a foggy Maine moment with two of his wood sculptures, models for larger pieces. One of the full-sized versions is visible outside Lindsay's studio in the photo at far left.

Living in Tenants Harbor with his second wife, Jo, Lindsay acknowledges he could make more money and perhaps a bigger name as a sculptor in New York. Down East, he admits, he has to supplement his art by playing music, doing carpen- try and designing Web sites. But he prefers to struggle on the northeast coast, where the local granite and forest inspire his work, and where he has found important roles on boards and committees that help make his chosen community what it is. 'The landscape and the type of life I have here are so integral to who I am,' he comments. 'To me, Maine has always felt like home.' FcUCKSPOftf B 14 /J I 14 #1 I A fl^*^ +h fk he doctor at the Bucksport Veterinary Hospital may have grown up on the beaches of Santa Monica and Malibu and even put in a stint in Hollywood chasing UFO abduction stories as segment producer for the TV show 'Sightings,' but no one can question his New England country credentials. Justin Blake '88 is the grandson of the founders of Down East magazine, cultural chronicler of the nation's northeastern tip.

During childhood sum- mers, he worked and played on his grandparents' apple and blueberry farm near Camden and boated and fished with his uncles alongside family-owned Lime Island, just off the coast. As an Andover stu- dent, he sought weekend refuge with his Down East kin when life got frenzied. 'I was always part of the area, and it holds a lot of nostalgia for me,' says Blake, who last year bought a house overlooking Lincolnville Beach, with views of its famous lobster pound and the bustling pier where celebrities like Sylvester Stallone and Kirstie Alley board the ferry for their homes on elite Islesboro. After considering a career in photojournal- ism, earning a B.S. Degree in environmental policy from the University of Michigan, working in TV and acting as crowd builder and motorcade driver for 'green' political candi- dates like John Kerry, Bill Clinton and Al Gore, Blake decided tending to the medical needs of animals was his calling. He took classes part time for two years to make up deficiencies in Once a segment producer for 'Sightings,' Justin Blake is now a chemistry and physics, then accepted a job at country doctor of sorts, treating small animals not far from the Tufts Veterinary School Wildlife Center in where his grandparents once grew apples and blueberries. 13 i Massachusetts and applied to area institutions.

In summer 1997, he was plucked off the waiting list by the Atlantic Veterinary College in Charlottetown, N.B., just across the Canadian border from Maine. Upon receiving the D.V.M. Degree in 2001, Blake returned to the scene of his childhood summers. He established a business called Blake Veterinary Services, hiring himself out to relieve In midcoastal Maine, Blake cares for cats and the people they own.

Overtaxed practitioners. Today, he works 4-6 days a week for the Searsport Veterinary Hospital and Bucksport Veterinary Hospital and in the evening does house calls, providing basic veterinary services to pets whose owners cannot get them to a clinic. Blake says one thing that distin- guishes veterinary practice in mid- coastal Maine is the financial diversity of his clientele. Some pet owners, residents of affluent ocean- side towns, can afford intricate surg- eries and high-tech diagnostic services. Others — often farmers, artists or craftspeople — operate on tight budgets and have to make painful decisions about their compan- ion animals' health care. 'People think of veterinary medicine as being about animals, but a lot of the challenge is in working with the people.

Some- times elderly people come in, and their pets are all they have. They're willing to spend their last dime on their pets, and sometimes that's not enough,' says Blake. The doctor, who, along with his girlfriend, shares his home with three dogs and an adopted cat named Solomon, aims eventually to have his own small animal hospital in the area. 'I think midcoastal Maine is beautiful,' he says, 'and I like its slow pace and real people. There's not a lot of bull. I grew up in a very show-bizzy, flashy city where they have a lot of money, a lot of pre- tense and a lot of congestion.

I guess I was looking for the exact opposite of what I experienced in Los Angeles, and I've found it here.' Simplicity piA, the shore o Carol Clements Standish '59, Maine is the main thing. An Andover native who summered on the ocean in Biddeford Pool as a child, Standish is not what you would call a materialist. On her 10th reunion questionnaire, the one-time English major at Middlebury College listed her profession as 'revolution- ary,' her aim as living outside the military-industrial complex. But in spite of her idealism, the former day student, whose father worked in maintenance at Abbot Being near the water is an important objec tive for Carol Standish; here, she's shown on her boat in Kennebunkport Harbor.

Before finding his fortune as an investment counselor, knew from her earliest memory what she wanted. And what she wanted was to live in a little stone house on an island off the Maine coast. But, toward that goal, Standish and her husband, John, first moved Down East as refugees from an increasingly unset- tled Cambridge, Mass., neighborhood in the late 1960s. They took with them the deed to an abandoned rail- road station in Kennebunk that they'd acquired for $5,500. Having left behind a 'dull and demeaning' job as an editorial secretary for Little Brown publishers in Boston, Standish rolled up her sleeves and turned the old depot into a combined craft gallery and home. It supported the family for 15 years, but in Maine you have to be nimble, and as the decades passed the Standishes found themselves going with the flow. Carol, who calls it 'living an entre- preneurial life,' has had businesses importing and selling crafts supplies, Sometimes you have to look for your dreams in odd places.

Take John Cushing '77. A Newport, R.I., native and former PA hockey and lacrosse player, he found his dream in the offices of Morgan Guaranty Trust in New York. The odd part was that his dream was not success on Wall Street, but a life on the water in Cushing, Maine, a town named for a distant relative.

In 1982, Cushing, with a fresh scooping ice cream, making and selling frames and dealing in books and prints. In between, she has babysat, worked in a dog kennel and taught writing.

She's worked with Tom Chappell in the early days of Tom's of Maine, earned a master's degree in English from the University of Southern Maine and raised and educated two daughters. John has painted and built houses, sold hard- ware, worked in stained glass and started maineharbors.com, a Web site with tidal charts and weather infor- mation for boaters.

Today, in a small studio John built for her, Carol pays her way as a free-lance writer, specializing in arti- cles about Maine. The work fulfills a secret dream inspired in her by an Abbot English teacher, but it was a dream she never had the confidence to pursue until her mid-50s. For publications like Points East, The Working Waterfront and a weekly summer tabloid, as well as for her husband's Web site, she has written about Maine arts and entertain- degree in art from Middlebury College in Vermont, had dressed up, terrified, in an unaccustomed suit and tie for an interview with the prestigious firm. But when he met bank vice president Jim Walsh, he heard himself saying, 'I can't work here. This is a mistake!' Patiently, the man suggested that Cushing calm down and start over.

What did he like to do? As the new graduate spoke of ment, penned lighthouse tours and reviewed Maine books.

One of her favorite pieces, she says, is a recent article about lobsterwomen on the Maine coast. The couple has practiced a pro- gressively simpler lifestyle.

For exam- ple, they moved from a house on the water to a trailer on four inland acres on Cape Porpoise to avoid being what they call 'tax slaves.' 'We are not poor,' she says, 'because we sold the house for a lot of money. It gave us the means to be independent as long as we are care- ful.

The important thing to us is to be by the ocean, boating, swimming, writing and walking the beach. We made a decision early on that we did not ever want to be a slave to things. ' Rain or shine, Cushing spends his days aboard the Rafiki in pursitit of the elusive striped bass and an adventurous, outdoorsy life. Custom's catch 22 his love for the outdoors, his seven years as a lifeguard and his orienta- tion activities at Andover, Walsh beamed. He was an Outward Bound trustee, he told Cushing, and thought a spell with their ocean adventure program on the Maine coast would suit the young man well. Cushing agreed. The spell lasted 18 years.

After a 26-day course, he signed on as a volunteer and eventu- ally became an instmctor, course direc- tor and program director. There, too, he met his wife, Victoria Woodhull, a fellow Outward Bound staffer. Though the approach of middle age ended the couple's stay with Outward Bound after nearly two decades, their love affair with the Maine coast endures. Today, they occupy a picture-book-pretty country cottage in Cushing — the setting of Andrew Wyeth's 'Christina's World' and other rustic paintings — with three magnificent Maine coon cats. Woodhull is associate director of the Farnsworth Art Museum in Rock- land, which features the Wyeth fam- ily's works, and John Cushing makes his living as a fishing guide.

During four months of the year, his Catch-22 Sports Fishing Charter company boat goes out rain or shine with up to three clients who pay him $400 a day to teach them to search for striped bass among the ledges of the Kennebec River. The fish average about six pounds, and by Maine state law one is allowed to keep only one fish per person per day. The customers don't mind; in fact, they usually throw them back.

The point is to be out on the water having an out-of-the-ordinary experience. Catch-22 is booked solid for six days a week in summer, Cushing says, but after Labor Day the tourists and wannabe game fishermen van- 16 ish. Because the season is so short, Cushing lugs his 20-foot boat, Rafiki, by trailer to the Florida keys to do similar work for two months annu- ally. In between, he ties fishing flies commercially, transports construc- tion workers to the island of Vinalhaven and teaches in a kids' aquaculture education program run by the wife of artist Jamie Wyeth. Whatever it takes. 'You can't make your living solely as a fishing guide in Maine,' he says. So why not move to a place where the living is easier?

'We came to Maine,' he says, 'for Outward Bound. But we stay here because it's a wonderful, peace- ful place with great people. Our life here is idyllic. Plus the fishery here is well-established. You can only do this kind of work in a setting where you can be 100 percent certain of catching fish every single day.' Frederic 'Mac' McCabe '65 guesses he's in the bottom third of his Harvard Business School class in dollars earned. But in emotional satisfaction, he feels he's got his contemporaries licked.

That's because McCabe lives in Maine and integrates Phillips Academy's non-sibi, not-for-self, teaching into his daily life. 'Andover teaches valuable lessons about balance and quality and engagement, and many gradu- ates want to practice those lessons forever. A good number discover the best place to do that is Maine,' says McCabe. 'You have to be highly creative to make a living here, but it's a fine place to make a life.' Co-founder of the young O'Naturals restaurant chain, McCabe spent his Andover Sundays as a hospi- tal volunteer in his native Lawrence, Mass., and worked summers at a Vermont camp for blind youth.

As a student at Ohio's Western Reserve University, he helped teach swimming to the disabled. He planned to use his graduate degree in the non-profit sector, but Mfltewtg ft life Mflli/n job market realities led him into a retail career. After a few years in Boston, he felt the pull of magnetic north and landed what he calls 'the dream job for a 27-year-old M.B.A. In Maine' as merchandising man- ager for L.L. Living in Brunswick with his wife and two children, he saw the Freeport-based retailer become a cultural icon, growing from $24 million to $180 million a year. In 1982, his marriage ended, and McCabe moved to Manhattan to oversee retail and publishing functions at the Museum of Modern Art. He continued commuting to Maine to be with his daughters, and when three years later New York friends fixed him up with Kaitlin Briggs, a professor at Portland's University of Southern Maine, he knew it was time to return.

Facing the challenge of earning a living Down East, McCabe decided to use Portland as a base for consulting work in companies across the Northeast. McCabe says a 'transformative moment' occurred in 1990 when he joined the Social Venture Network, an alliance of executives who believe passionately in the link between business practice and social responsibility. Since then, his con- sultancies have included turning around such laudable endeavors as a Zen Buddhist-founded New York bakery that employs former convicts and reformed drug addicts, and Northeast Cooperatives in Vermont, a wholesale grocer supplying natural foods supermarkets. It was an associate in the Social Venture Network, Gary Hirshberg of Stonyfield Farm yogurt, who sug- gested McCabe help him provide consumers with a healthier alterna- tive to fast food. Happily, McCabe recognized a singular opportunity to establish a socially conscientious Maine-based business and also end his frequent-flyer frenzy.

O'Naturals, which McCabe clas- sifies as 'fast casual,' opened its doors in Falmouth, Maine, in 2001. In 2003 new O'Naturals have joined the streetscapes in Acton, Mass., Portland, Maine, and Portsmouth, N.H.

Based on market research, the chain features sandwiches, soups, sal- ads and stir-fries. Choices range from vegan offerings — those using no ani- mal products whatever — to dishes made with free-range or naturally fed chicken, beef and buffalo. Herbed roasted potatoes from Maine's Aroostook Valley replace the ubiqui- tous French fries. Desserts are nat- ural, and no diet soda is served.

'Everything is clean here: no chemicals, no preservatives, no additives, no antibiotics,' says McCabe, who says the posi- tive response he's received from customers portends rapid and vigorous growth. McCabe and Briggs, who is now his wife, reside in Portland and recently cemented their Maine con- nection further by buying a second home overlooking the water in West Bath. 'When you drive across the border from New Hampshire,' he says, 'you see a sign that reads, 'Maine: The Way Life Should Be.' I can really go along with that.'

Facing page, Mac McCabe's Portland O'Naturals occupies a one-time bank, with arched windows and (visible above his head) a vintage vault. Immediately above, diners enjoy the streetscape in Post Office Park. 17 Left and above, Meriby Sweet left Silicon Valley for a 209 -year-old colonial tavern in Maine, but she brought her high-tech expertise along. TuteliA^ the sweet path hoi^e While it's not literally true you must either be self- employed or work three part-time jobs to survive in Maine, New Englanders hear the adage often enough to know they should think long and hard before seeking their fortunes Down East. Although Maine claims the nation's highest high school gradua- tion rate and its students rank fourth on standardized tests in math and science, coming of age has tradition- ally been the signal for the state's young people to leave home.

And while many eventually retire to the sounds of bell buoys and giggling gulls, they stay away for their prime earning years. With her parents living on Army bases during World War II, Maine-born Meriby Sweet '61 spent her early life with grandparents in Castine, on Penobscot Bay, where her granddad, a semiretired dentist, was often paid in shucked clams and fresh blueberries. After Abbot, she attended the University of Maine at Orono, where she was the first female elected campus mayor. But her career path led her to a Boston bank, to the State University of New York at New Paltz for a master's degree in English and to boarding school faculties from Colorado to Germany before landing her in California's Silicon Valley. There she immersed herself in cutting-edge technologies, and, she says, was 'down-sized, right- sized, optimized, redeployed, fired, laid off and co-employed' 1 1 times over 20 years. 'Some companies I worked for folded by design after six months. It was quite a contrast from Maine, where, when you built something, you knew you were building to last,' she says.

'Every time I'd come home for a summer vacation or a family holiday, I'd think, 'Oh, God, if there were just some way I could make a living in Maine..' But a couple of years back, Sweet began to see signs of a determination to bring her home state into the 2 1 st century technologically. There was the launch of the Maine Technology Institute, which provides grants to ventures aimed at creating technol- ogy jobs. There was what Sweet calls a 'nationally exciting' policy state- ment in which Governor Angus King issued a laptop computer to every seventh-grader in the state. There was a $12.5 million referen- dum voted by the citizens of Maine to rebuild the state's economic infra- structure. Even the Maine School of Law got on board, forming the Maine Patent Program and the Technology Law Center to provide free legal ser- vices to help nurture technology development in Maine. 'I knew that, with a technology community in place, I could finally come home,' says Sweet, who decided in September 2001 she had seen and heard enough to be confi- dent of playing a role in the state's turnaround.

Two weeks later, she found the perfect niche. Working as technology counselor for the Maine Small Business Development Center, Sweet uses her know-how to guide budding entrepreneurs through the early stages of business development, teaching them what they need to know about everything from business plans and marketing to capitalization, manufacturing, production and distribution. One case involves a woman who devised a tool that would detect a very early fetal heartbeat. Right now, Sweet says, fetal heart- beats can be discerned at 6-8 weeks with sonography. But sonography is costly, and many island hospitals, rural clinics and midwives lack access. What's more, the opportu- nity to detect a strong heartbeat ear- lier in a woman's pregnancy is not only emotionally reassuring, but medically advantageous; it can, for 18 example, signal a need to move a patient to a more sophisticated med- ical center for a higher level of care.

Working with Sweet, the inven- tor got seed grants to do market research, shape business and distrib- ution plans and frame licensing agreements. Sweet helped her arrange for collaboration with a medical-device distributor and iden- tify comparable technologies to shortcut the FDA approval process. The woman filed for a patent and looks forward to manufacturing her product in Maine, creating jobs for Maine residents and bringing rev- enue into the state. Sweet, who has set up house- keeping with her two tabbies in a 209-year-old colonial tavern in Waldoboro, currently works with 49 clients. She says that, in her two years on the job, her advisees have created 30 technology-based posi- tions, saved 38 jobs that might have been lost, and raised $2.5 million. 'I'm proud of that,' she says, 'but at the same time I know it's just the beginning.

You can open up a pizza parlor or an auto repair shop in six months, but with technology it takes about three years to get some- thing going.' SftfeguAnilu*g what we love For most of the alumni profiled here, Maine came first and the career followed. For Jennifer Melville '79, Maine is the career. Born in Pennsylvania, Melville grew up in Worcester, Mass., but on a trip to Montana at age 16 she fell in love with land and decided to spend her life protecting it.

A Washington internship through PA showed her the rudiments of public policy work, and she went on to earn a B.S. Degree from the University of California at Berkeley in environmental science and a master's degree from Yale Univer- sity's School of Forestry and Envi- ronmental Science.

As a land preservationist, Melville has worked diligently for the past eight years helping to res- cue chunks of Maine for use by future generations. On the surface, the idea might Quality -of -life issues make the Maine move a happy one for Jennifer Melville and her family; here, she's shown with daughter Grace Abbott.

After all, any overview of Maine shows a land mass big as the rest of New England combined, with a population smaller than that of Massachusetts' Middlesex County. What's to protect it from? But Melville, a former conserva- tion director of the Appalachian Mountain Club, says there are huge threats to the state's terrain. In the seemingly wild north- lands, the immediate problem is not overdevelopment, but restriction of public access.

Traditionally, Melville explains, Maine forests were owned by paper companies that allowed their million-acre tracts to be used for recreational purposes. Further, the foresters represented a benign force, since they had a vested inter- est in managing the timberland for the long term so it would continue to produce healthily. In the early 1990s, though, new pressure came from people who wanted to. Live large on the land. A conspicuous consumer would pur- chase 10,000 acres for more than it was worth as timberland, then gate it. Too bad for the hunters, hikers, campers and canoers who once sought refuge there; it was private property now. In the southern coastal regions, sprawl is the issue, Melville says, quoting a recent Portland Press 20 Herald article saying housing prices in Greater Portland have skyrock- eted more than those in any other region of the country over the past 20—30 years.

Development pressure also exists along lake shores and in picturesque mountain settings. Land preservationists are scurrying to assure that Maine remains...

And it's more than an aes- thetic impulse that motivates them. Pragmatically speaking, Maine's four top industries — farming, fishing, tourism and timber — rely on con- trolled land use and ambience.

As a project manager of the Trust for Public Land in Portland, Melville purchases endangered tracts on behalf of federal, state or local agencies working in the public interest. Using a combination of public monies and private dona- tions, the trust negotiates with landowners, acquires land and con- veys it to the partner agency for conservation. The trust does not buy land for its own use, nor does it have its own agenda other than to help realize the preservation goals of the entities that approach it for help. Melville has worked on purchases as large as 20,000 acres and as small as six acres.

She tells of a project in Scarborough, outside Portland, where a 60-acre tract with ocean- front and a pond had been leased by the state from a family corporation for decades. It was operated and listed in guidebooks as a state park; few users had any notion they might not be able to swim, surf and skate there forever. But the owners decided to sell, and they gave the state a swift ultimatum: Buy it from us by the end of the year, or you'll see a housing development there. 'We had just six months to put this project together,' Melville says, 'but, with the support of Governor Angus King and the legislature, we managed to negotiate with the owner and meet the deadline. Today, it really is a state park, and I feel good about that.' Initially, Melville was a long- distance commuter, living in Cambridge, Mass., and doing her Maine preservation work from an office in Boston, but in 1999 she persuaded the Trust for Public Land to open a Portland office.

Today she lives in coastal Freeport with her husband, Alex Abbott, and their children, Caleb and Grace. Melville stresses she is not anti- development; it's just that develop- ment has to be done responsibly. 'Maine,' she says, 'is one of those places where people live because they love the place. If you destroy everything you love about it, what is there left to love?' L (Below) A view inside Lindsay's studio shows models, works-in- progress and finished sculptures, including the bust of actress Lisa Brenner. For more, see www.midcoast.com/steve/lindsay/.

(Right) Kathie lannicelli's sunporch doubles as a crafts room where natural materials like these branches and dried flowers turn into beautiful decorative pieces. (Bottom) The Lobster Pound restaurant and beach at Lincolnsville are parts of Justin Blake's scenic overview. ANDOVER BOOKSHELF Easy Money Iced Shot by Jenny Siler '89 Henry Holt and Company In a review of Jenny Siler's first novel, Easy Money, acclaimed as a New York Times Notable Book, the Times reviewer states, 'Once in a blue moon, a new writer speaks up in a voice that gets your atten- tion like a rifle shot.' The same reviewer called Siler's next novel, Iced, 'poetry with attitude.' The heroines in each of Siler's three cutting-edge suspense novels are smart, rough-edged and resourceful women.

Besides writing fiction, Siler has also worked as a forklift driver, furniture mover, grape picker, sketch model and bartender. She lives in Missoula, Mont. A Daring Young Man: A Biography of William Saroyan by John Leggett '38 Alfred A. Knopf Based on interviews and William Saroyan's letters and diaries, John Leggett's biography is a revealing portrait of the life of this talented and well-known 20th century writer — from Saroyan's childhood in a California orphanage to his Broadway successes and eventual death in 1981. Formerly director of the University of Iowa Writers' Workshop, Leggett now lives in California and is director of the Napa Valley Writers' Conference.

Sisters in Sorrow: Voices of Care in the Holocaust by Roger Ritvo '63 and Diane Plotkin Texas A&M University Press Sisters in Sorrow presents the detailed, heartbreaking first-person accounts of 12 women who provided medical care to their fellow prisoners while interred in Nazi death camps. Roger Ritvo has a spe- cial interest in health care ethics and is a professor and the vice chancellor of acade- mic and student affairs at Auburn University in Montgomery, Ala. Bar Dreams by Augustus Schoen-Rene '79 Renotto Press During four months hanging around East Coast bars, Gus Schoen-Rene befriended 133 of his fellow patrons and inquired about their hopes, fears and aspi- rations, then handed them pad and pen to record their answers.

Bar Dreams reports on both the process and the revealing results of this mission. Schoen-Rene lives in Clayton, N.C., and is president of Sirius Theatre, LLC. Boron: Mineralogy, Petrology and Geochemistry Beryllium: Mineralogy, Petrology and Geochemistry by Edward S. Grew '62 Mineralogical Society of America These two hefty books are Volume 33 and Volume 50 of the Mineralogical Society of America's series Reviews in Mineralogy and Geochemistry. The in-depth data about boron's and beryl- lium's mineralogical, thermochemical and geochemical properties are of interest to researchers in the earth sciences and further understanding about the earth's geologic processes.

Edward Grew is a pro- fessor in University of Maine's geology department and lives in Orono, Maine. Looking at Matisse and Picasso by Susanna Rubin '85 and Maria Gonzalez The Museum of Modern Art Close friends and rivals Henri Matisse and Pablo Picasso are often perceived as opposites. This colorful book, intended for a general audience and published in conjunction with MoMA's exhibition Matisse Picasso, pairs similar works of art from each artist and compares and con- trasts them. Susanna Rubin is a New York City-based artist and an educator at The Museum of Modern Art. Second Chances by Stephen Guschov '83 Xulon Press Subtitled How God Uses Imperfect People for His Great Glory, Second Chances posits that the Bible is populated by peo- ple with every sort of personal failure. In a straightforward and enjoyable style, Guschov tells the inspirational stories of 20 well-known Biblical heroes who were also imperfect beings.

Guschov is a lawyer and writer who lives in Haverhill, Mass. Mama Stew edited by Sylvia Piatt '79 and Elisabeth Haight Mama Stew Press Subtitled An Anthology: Reflections and Observations on Mothering, this collec- tion of essays, poems and works of art was created by, for and about mothers. With honesty, insight, humor and compassion, its 50 contributors honor motherhood in their own individual ways. Sylvia Piatt, a mother and teacher, lives in Port Townsend, Wash.

The Last Revolutionaries: German Communists and Their Century by Catherine Epstein '80 Harvard University Press Drawing on extensive original research and interviews, Catherine Epstein explores the lives of East German communists from the 1920s to 1989. The collective biography tells the history-mak- ing stories of eight radical German commu- nists who joined the party pre-Hitler and remained loyal to the movement through- out the Nazi and postwar period. Epstein lives in Amherst, Mass., and is an assistant professor of history at Amherst College. These capsule reviews were prepared by Sharon Magnuson.

22 NEWS NOTES Welcoming held for new students of alumni parents They're baaaaaack — refreshed and ready Several PA faculty members returned to the classroom in September after sabbaticals that took some to Europe, some to Boston and one to a sheep field in Vermont. Displaced from his home in Andover, Instructor in Theatre Mark Efinger and his wife, Cindy, interim director of student activities, bought a motor home and drove north to Montpelier, Vt., where he promptly set up shop in a sheep field for six weeks while performing in the play Much Ado About Nothing at the Lost Nation Theatre. (The field belongs to the daughter of Walt Levering '55, an actor who met Efinger during rehearsal and who, subsequently, offered it to him as a temporary home.) 'I wanted to get involved in profes- sional theatre and do some of what I've been teaching for a while,' says Efinger, who took a yearlong sabbatical. Over the summer, Efinger returned to Vermont to act in a sec- ond play, Proof, in which he played a math genius 'similar to John Nash.' In between productions, he wrote a screenplay about his father's life, which he is still working on.

Between jaunts to Italy, England and Scotland with his wife, Instructor in English Paul Kalkstein spent a great deal of his yearlong sabbatical holed up in his house in Maine writing his first work of fiction. Titled Jump the Kennebec, it is about a young teacher who discovers he has bipolar disorder, something Kalkstein's brother John Grillo and Lawrence Uhl, both Class of '69, catch up at the alumni parent luncheon at Phelps House. From left: Valerie Casey, Lawrence Uhl, daughter Kathryn '05, Elizabeth Grillo '07, John Grillo and Lola Grillo. Alumni parents, taking a break from moving their children into their dorms on Saturday, Sept. 6, stopped by Phelps House for lunch. Hosted by Head of School Barbara Landis Chase and her husband, David, the luncheon offered alumni and their children the opportunity to meet students and their parents and get to know the head of the school. Michael Ebner 70, Protestant chaplain and director of alumni affairs, was also on hand to welcome the families.

Suffered from during his life. Excerpts of the novel can be found at 'As a teacher of literature, I learned a great deal about what it takes to write a novel,' says Kalkstein, who is eager to return to the classroom. 'I now understand and appreciate what writers go through, and that will make me a better teacher of fiction.' Most people who take sabbaticals actually leave campus, but not biology instructor Patricia Russell. Russell's husband, Christopher Shaw '78, teaches history and economics at PA, so instead of uprooting the family, they just moved into a non-dorm apartment while Russell commuted into Boston. In Boston, Russell took part in a research project at the Department of Neurology at Children's Hospital, where she helped to identify proteins that control cell migration in embry- onic brains. 'Because I've been teaching, I haven't been able to do much lab work, except during the summer,' she says.

'It's nice to have some more firsthand experience as a scientist and work with people who do this for a living.' Though the concepts she studied are a little advanced for high school students, she says the techniques she learned in the lab will be transferable to her students here.

Though not technically on sab- batical — it was a two-year leave of absence — Chad Green is also back this year as director of the 23 Community Service program. And this time he's got a master's degree in theological studies from Boston University. Green says he left to study theol- ogy in part because many of his closest mentors here (Phil Zaeder, Diane Moore and Michael Ehner, to name a few) are ministers, and also because he was interested in approaching the idea of community from a philosophical and religious perspective. 'My goals in studying theology were twofold: personally, it was a time to concentrate more deliberately on my own spiritual journey and to con- sider questions of meaning and being; professionally, I wanted to approach the notion of community and commu- nity work from a perspective that was not purely sociological or policy driven. In the end, I found a strong overlap between the facets of theology and the theory and practice of service-learning.' Green says the new Community Service initiative Praxis, which is designed for students who want to deepen their commitment to commu- nity work, evolved out of his experi- ence in grad school. The program will allow students to participate in more sustained reflection and training and thus learn more about the larger social, historical and political context that lies behind their community work.

'Community service is a great forum in which kids learn about them- selves and others,' he says, 'and my the- ological education will help me to better frame some of those experiences.'