MS. STAMBAUGH: Every year at this time we read memorial resolutions written by members for those members who have died since the last meeting.
Eunice Stunkard Latham, September 4, 1923, to December 25, 2001. This resolution was written by Joan Twaddle with additional material from Carol Lane.
Eunice's obituary in The New York Times called hers a "varied and accomplished life." Because of her father's sabbaticals from the Museum of Natural History in New York, Eunice spent some of her Barnard School days in France and in Germany. She was actually in Germany on Kristallnacht.
After graduating from the Barnard School, Eunice enrolled at Wellesley College, class of 1945, where she majored in German, and in her senior year served as president of the Barnswallows, the college dramatic society.
After Wellesley, Eunice went to work with displaced persons and later volunteered for the Unitarian Service Committee.
For 21 years Eunice worked in advertising at J. Walter Thompson and other well-known firms. During those years she met and married Jack Latham. Perhaps some of you may remember "I'd walk a mile for a camel," or "Call for Phillip Morris."
In 1971, Jack and Eunice took a memorable trip which Jack recounted in a charming book entitled Adventures of Hebe on their 60-foot steel ketch.
Eunice had never lost touch with the Barnard School, serving as trustee, and in 1970s becoming its headmistress, in spite of Jack's rather outspoken annoyance at the time she devoted to the school.
On the way to Jack's funeral in 1980, Eunice was in a horrific accident, which broke both of her legs and killed their two toy poodles, Pompi and Jacques. She was stoic about her losses and she completed her term as president of the Headmistresses Association of the East.
Eunice retired as headmistress of Barnard School briefly in 1985, but never relinquished control of its finances or its trustees, and became headmistress again in 1987 and remained a trustee of the school and its successor organization until her death. "Until death us do part." Eunice served her Wellesley class as planned giving chair and was a generous donor to the college.
No resolution about Eunice would be complete without a story about her modes of transportation. She had an older car whose trunk would not lock, but her preferred vehicle was an aged van usually loaded with fresh fruits and vegetables from her home in White Creek and destined for the kitchen at the Barnard School. Not only were they better than could be obtained in New York City, but they cost considerably less, which appealed to Eunice's legendary frugality.
Eunice was always gracious about offering a ride home in the van to anyone who was a fellow attendee at a meeting. Only the unwary accepted. The problem was that Eunice drove the van with complete disregard for every other vehicle on the road, including New York City buses (the blue whales) and taxicabs, and with an equally cavalier attitude toward traffic lights. Her shaken passengers disembarked grateful to have arrived unscathed and vowing to patronize public transportation in the future, although a few friends with a high tolerance for risk always accepted the next time. The bonus was the chance to get better acquainted with Peanut, her gentle Jack Russell.
Eunice's attitude toward school governance was also somewhat unique and was exemplified by an exchange with a younger colleague. This school head whose board was considering the length and frequency of its meetings, asked Eunice how often her board met. The reply was, "As seldom as possible."
Eunice was a delightful cocktail party (always bourbon) and dinner companion with a fund of anecdotes based on her experiences in Germany, at Wellesley, in advertising, and on the Hebe. Her memorial service on February 10, 2002, was attended by a large number of friends who shared their thoughts about her and who will surely miss her.
Dorothy Osborne, headmistress of Spence School from 1936 until her retirement in 1952, died on June 5, 2001, at her home in Concord, New Hampshire. She was 103 years of age. She died peacefully after visiting with family and friends and telling them all, "I have had a wonderful life."
Four heads of the Spence School, Barbara Colbron, Margo Johnson, Edes Gilbert, and Arlene Gibson, attended her memorial service.
Born in New York City in 1898, Dorothy received a Pulitzer Scholarship to study at Barnard College, majored in mathematics, was elected to Phi Beta Kappa, and graduated in 1919.
For the next three years she worked for the American Telephone & Telegraph Company until, according to her daughter, she noticed that women were not being promoted into positions of authority.
She left the company and began her lifelong career as an educator. She taught mathematics at St. Timothy's School in Maryland, St. Mary's in Garden City, and Miss Hewitt's School before arriving at Spence. In 1933 she earned her master's degree in mathematics from the Teachers College of Columbia University.
In the same year that she accepted the headship of the Spence School, Dorothy Brockway married her old friend, Harold Osborne, chief engineer at AT&T. It is a well-loved Spence story that Dorothy met Harold by telling him how unhappy she was with the way the company treated women. A widower, Harold presented Dorothy with a ready-made family of two daughters who grew to love her as their own mother. The family lived in Montclair, New Jersey, and Dorothy made a daily commute from Montclair to Spence throughout her career as head of school.
Dorothy's work at Spence began by ensuring financial stability for the school as it came out of the Depression. She guided Spence through the Second World War, proving a source of stability and strength for her girls.
Setting high standards for both academic and extracurricular life, she established the first reporting system for parents, increased the school's enrollment, and attracted an outstanding faculty.
Her students remember her as a leader, teacher, advisor and close friend, possessing wisdom, good judgment, a sense of fair play, balance, a warm sense of humor, firmness, compassion, deep loyalty, and complete integrity.
Little escaped her notice from table manners to length of skirt and length of fingernails. To support the war effort, she outlawed stockings and socks. This became the order of the day. Asked how she handled the dress code she replied, "I didn't suggest. I told."
Punishments for infractions of study hall rules included memorizing a Milton sonnet or writing an explication of the Bill of Rights. A strict New England Congregationalist, Dorothy never lost a clear view of life's purpose, nor her sense of wonder at the world around her.
In 1988, Spence honored Dorothy by naming its new wing the Osborne Wing and by establishing a scholarship fund in her name, a fund which she generously remembered in her will.
Throughout her long life Dorothy served as a shining example of caring, curiosity, and a love of learning. While at Spence, Dorothy worked with Harvard President Conant to formulate the college boards examination now known as the SATs. Eventually she was named an honorary representative at large to the college board. She served as a trustee for Barnard and sat on Barnard's President's Council.
After her retirement Dorothy moved to Concord, New Hampshire, where she remained active in civic affairs until well past her hundredth birthday.
Dorothy had an uncanny ability to establish a connection with the people she met because she took a keen interest in others. As the new head of Spence, Arlene Gibson visited Dorothy shortly after her 101st birthday. The previous day she had been lecturing a middle school class on the ecology of regional wetlands. She left the appointment early in order to give a eulogy at a friend's memorial service. An avid correspondent, she made time every day to write to friends and alumni. Dorothy and Arlene corresponded regularly until last March, when her eyesight finally began to fail.
Asked what advice she would give a new head of Spence, she said with her gracious smile and twinkling bright blue eyes, "Be strict, be firm, and always keep your door open for the girls."
That resolution was written by Arlene Gibson, who could not be here today.
Caroline Pardue, 1912 to 2001. Caroline Pardue died peacefully on July 29, 2001, surrounded by her family, having celebrated together the Ministration at the Time of Death, led by one of her girls, now an Episcopal priest. At life's closing she remained centered on her life's themes: Family, church, and the school.
A Carolinian to the core, Caroline was born in Aiken, graduated from Winthrop College with a BA in history, and the University of South Carolina with an MA in history. She remained a student of American history, especially southeastern history, throughout her life.
Caroline Pardue taught at the Aiken High School, St. Timothy's, and Aiken Preparatory School. She was headmistress of Aiken Day School from 1945 to 1950, before moving to Ashley Hall as academic head in 1950. She spent the rest of her career as teacher and administrator at Ashley Hall, becoming headmistress in 1954. She was named Headmistress Emerita in 1979, continuing her interest in the doings of her girls through correspondence and visits until shortly before her death.
During her career Caroline Pardue undertook further studies at Columbia University, Duke, and Middlebury College. She participated actively in Head Mistresses, the National Association of Principals of Schools for Girls, the South Carolina Commission of the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools. Caroline served on the selection committee for the Angier B. Duke scholars at Duke University and Clemson University's Board of Visitors. Honors included an honorary LHD from Winthrop University and the Charleston Hall of Fame.
Deeply involved in church, Caroline could be depended on to serve in a wide range of roles, including teacher and member of the vestry. Her interest in girls extended to the needs of unfortunate victims and their assistance. The examples she set made a mark on her students, helping to head many into lives of service in the church.
Never married, Caroline was devoted to her sisters' families, proud of their achievements and a source of succor in times of trial. She moved to be near them shortly after retiring so she could participate in nephews' and nieces' growth, soon joined by seven great-nephews and nieces, and she could recall intricate details of each one's progress.
Upon learning of Caroline Pardue's death, notes and letters poured in to tell of incidents large and small, of reprimands and rescues, of examples of mentoring and modeling, of the richness of her impact. Her wit was dry, shared with colleagues and with senior girls. Her bridge game was superb. Her chapel talks inspired, sometimes awed, and frequently were quoted. She declared one class of sophomore girls "nonexistent." She never appeared untidy. She knew how to curb young teachers' zeal without damaging their commitment; she seldom wasted words. "She could look right into your soul and know just the right thing to say to push you one step forward." "She made me angry but in the end, she was always right." "History classes came to life." "Even now I sometimes hear one of my daughters quote her."
At the service in her memory, one of Caroline's "girls," who is now a trustee, said, "Her name meant everything Ashley Hall stands for: Honesty, integrity, tradition, academic excellence, and friendship. In Milton's words, "Thou in our wonder and astonishment has built thyself a lifelong monument."
That was written by Margaret MacDonald.
Would you be kind enough to stand and let us observe in silence a memorial minute for all three of our members. Thank you.