It was a long hot summer that year - 1944 - much activity in the orchard, scouting weekends, visiting cousins about the state and getting ready for my first extended sojourn away from home I was going away to a boy’s boarding school in Lynchburg, Virginia named Virginia Episcopal School - VES - a small private school, that is, a prep school for high school boys. I was excited and anxious, all knotted up into one fourteen year-old.
The day my parents packed me and my necessities into the car, it was raining torrents and most of the creeks were full to overflowing. Near Lynchburg, we approached a stream which had gotten out of its banks and was flooding the road, seemingly a dangerous approach; yet my Dad was used to such things (I hoped). He geared down to a slow pace and plowed through the gushing water to the other side. A real thrill for me but not too much fun for Mom!
The campus was situated outside of Lynchburg on 160 acres of farm and forest land - a beautiful setting of brick columned main buildings, dormitories. and a steepled chapel. There was the brick gymnasium, tennis courts, and behind these a short street of three or four faculty homes, which at that time I did not know would contribute so much to my life at VES.
Dinner was an occasion of gathering everyone - students and adults - at 10 or so tables set with linen cloths and napkins, flowers in the center plus all condiments. We had grace while standing to be followed by the greatest clattering of 60 to 70 chairs being pulled out, sat upon, and then bumped back under the tables - all on a resounding wooden floor. What fun - and to be repeated three times a day for three school years. Could it get any better that this . . . well!
My first dining table was headed by Mr. Joseph Banks, head of the English and Literature department at VES. He was immaculately dressed - vest, tie, suit coat - perfect posture; yet with a certain boyish gleam in his eyes. I liked him right away. We introduced ourselves around the table - boys from all walks and scenarios - and when I mentioned Crozet Waylands, he was quick to tell me he had taught my two uncles, Bob and Fred, many years earlier. From thereon, I just figured that he knew all he needed to know about the Waylands. He had me down “cold.”
Jo Jo turned out to be one of the most influential people in my life - he brought literature to life, he had us memorize life long poems and quotes which I still carry and cherish in my meandering muddled mind. Jo Jo was just a real idol among boys - we truly looked forward to his assignments - theme writing, Shakespeare, discussions, and fellowship. He just had a special bond with boys.
The school had a long standing situation with the local “town boys”, they were the local kids who didn’t want us “messin” with their girls. As a result, we had Saturday classes and Mondays off - to keep us from bumping into the “townies.” This worked well! The school’s main means of communication was a huge bell housed in a thirty-foot tower in the center of the campus - it could be heard all over. On more than one occasion, the bell would get rung at an odd hour and immediately someone would cry - “Townies” - and all who could - not study hall - would try to catch them in the act before they could get away. I was in the mix - semi-dark running in all directions when suddenly I was grabbed by the collar. And I heard Jo Jo bellow “I’ve got one.” I was shocked - speechless, as I wrestled to get free, only to realize to no avail. Finally, I eked out my identity and Mr. Banks really was reluctant to let me go. He had finally “caught one” for the record book. He and I became closer friends with the encounter.
On many occasions, especially on Sunday evenings after supper, Mr. Banks would have a small number of us come to his home for readings from literature or poetry which he would read or “perform” to our perpetual delight and a great way to spend an evening. And today - a lost art. A further attraction to this Sunday evening gathering, especially in winter months, was the treat of hot cocoa and homemade cookies by Mrs. Banks. She truly loved us boys, too!
“Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends, Once More . . .”
Mr. Banks really was in the center of many activities at VES - he was our choir master and organist, as well. Now, to be chosen for this service was new to me; yet I found it one of my most rewarding life experiences. Well, just to be able to carry a tune was a surprise and pleasure to Charlie Wayland. The practices and fellowship garnered there was a lasting pleasure for me since I only left choir singing in 2004 - 60 years of wonderful people from all over. “A Song Remembered” . . . Oh yes - and another thing, maybe my choir participation at VES had a tie-in with my English Lit grades and Mr. Banks. I’ll never know! Quote the raven “for evermore.”
Good things should never end. In later years, I had the occasion to visit Jo Jo at Westminster Canterbury - VES had sold them a corner of the “old 160”, and he always welcomed back “the boys.” He was still the perfect gentleman and gracious host of yesteryear. He still had a file drawer filled with grade books from all his students - many years of devotion and dedication to the school’s perpetual motto, “To the Full Statute of Manhood.”
Good things should never end. In later years, I had the occasion to visit Jo Jo at Westminster Canterbury - VES had sold them a corner of the “old 160”, and he always welcomed back “the boys.” He was still the perfect gentleman and gracious host of yesteryear. He still had a file drawer filled with grade books from all his students - many years of devotion and dedication to the school’s perpetual motto, “To the Full Statute of Manhood.”
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