Although I have yet to convince him to start co-blogging with me, my father (class of 1958) was kind enough to provide some background on President Baxter. He writes:

James P. Baxter was universally known as Phinney. In our Freshman-Sophomore year a jazz band was formed which took the name Phinney’s Favorite Five. In the Fall of ‘55, I even lined up a gig for the Band for a Football Weekend Party at a RPI fraternity house. Playing a strong tuba with the band was my roommate (and future best man), Thomas B. Jones, Jr (known as TB).

In mid ‘56 TB went on to the Marine Corps and Phinney’s Favorite Five went on without him for four decades until in the 90’s it became the Reunion Jazz Band, which band is still today driven by Fred Clifford and Bob Kingsbury who are originally and still “boys”, as you say, from the Class of ‘58.

Besides playing a mean tuba, TB also played varsity squash at Williams. I remember seeing his picture as one of the many team pictures that used to line the walls of the old gym. I hope that they have kept up that tradition. Walking by those old photographs each day for practice provided me with a great sense of the history that I was becoming a part of. Years later, those emotions were perfectly captured by Robin Williams in “The Dead Poet’s Society” when he takes his class to view the old pictures that lined the walls of their fictional New England prep school. From the script,

Keating turns towards the trophy cases, filled with trophies, footballs, and team pictures.

KEATING: “Now I would like you to step forward over here and peruse some of the faces from the past. You’ve walked past them many times. I don’t think you’ve really looked at them.”

The students slowly gather round the cases and Keating moves behind them.

KEATING: “They’re not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they’re destined for great things, just like many of you. Their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because you see gentlmen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in.”

The boys lean in and Keating hovers over Cameron’s shoulder.

KEATING (whispering in a gruff voice): “Carpe.”

Cameron looks over his shoulder with an aggravated expression on his face.

KEATING: “Hear it?” (whispering again) “Carpe. Carpe Diem. Seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary.”

The boys stare at the faces in the cabinet in silence.

Decades from now there will be another young man at Williams who will walk down those halls on his way to practice. Perhaps he will play squash like TB Jones and I did (although I hope that he plays more like TB than like me). Perhaps he will go on to the Marine Corps. Whatever his future might hold, I hope that he sees our pictures and wonders about us, about where we went from Williams and how prepared we were for the journey. I hope that he realizes how fortunate he is.