Groton School, the institution many of us know and love, has not always looked or operated the way it does today. Since its founding in 1884, the school has renovated the Forum, relocated the Schoolroom, built the Campbell Performing Arts Center, and has scrapped and created tradition after tradition.
David Black PhD ’80, Katharine Leggat, Andy Anderson, and Douglas Brown ’57 graciously agreed to let the Circle Voice in on certain old traditions and habits of students of the past, allowing us to learn even more about the Circle that students and faculty alike call home.
Upon being asked about what the biggest difference on campus is, Dr. Black said that he finds that Groton students no longer take advantage of the town, which is just a 20-minute walk away. This is a stark contrast from his time as a student, when he and his friends would walk to the grocery store and wander down unfamiliar streets.
Not only would the town be a frequent spot of visitation, but before coeducation and the concept of 10–12 was ever a thing for seniors, Mr. Brown and his friends would visit a treehouse that used to be across the street, fully equipped with a kitchen, pulley system, and sleeping area for the Sixth Form boys to use to their heart’s content every single night.
Unfortunately, we have some Groton accidental arsonists to blame for the loss of many of these privileges. During a particularly dry and brittle fall term years ago, on the night of St. Mark’s Day, the old Boathouse was officially named as a historical site and the Groton School had yet another famous mark to add to its resume.
On that very same night, a group of students went down to smoke on the porch. They left late that night, with the Boathouse fully intact, and yet, when the dean of students went on an early morning run the next day, it was completely reduced to ashes.
Only a year and half after this fiery incident, several students chose to spend their time on Surprise Holiday smoking by a lake down the road, accidentally setting the bank on fire and as a result burning a full six acres of non-Groton School property. After these two incidents, the school decided to crack down on the students, restricting access to any and every incendiary device.
Before the Schoolhouse was renovated in 2015, Mr. Anderson had to go up to the tower and wind the clock once a week. Using a ladder that protruded from above where the clock is now, he would climb up. One day, he discovered a relic from the past: a room with an enormous collection of shoes left and signed by Groton alums ranging from the class of 1920 all the way to the ’70s.
The boys would enter through a secret passage and, instead of leaving graffiti, would leave their shoes tied together all throughout the room. Thus, among the teachers, it was known as the “Shoe Room.” Although the tradition had died out by the time Mr. Anderson was winding the clock in the ’80s, he talked to Groton graduates about the room and heard a slightly different (and slightly more scandalous) story.
According to graduates, they would sneak into the room to smoke cigarettes, but would be sure to eat mints to cover the smell of the smoke left behind on their breath; thus, the students called it the “Mint Room.” As a rite of passage, the younger boys would leave their shoes there to prove that they had the rebellious streak all boys of the past wished to have a claim to.
Groton School has a very rich history of camouflaged stories which form the Groton that we know and love today.