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Memories of Walter Lord By Herbert Pickett, Jr. June 20, 2002 The Commodore's service last Sunday. I would like to have gone but couldn't make it. Monday morning a classmate of mine, Dawson Farber, called for two reasons. He calls me yearly to ask me to contribute to the Gilman Fund, which I do very modestly. Most of all he wanted to tell me of the Lord service. He said it was a marvelous occasion, lasting over two hours. The important thing is that Billy Lynn gave a thorough description of what Hyde Bay meant to the Commodore. What touched me particularly was that Walter's relationship with my father was also emphasized. I am glad of that because it was a special relationship. A Walter-at-Hyde-Bay story. About the third year of going to Trenton Falls, we discovered that there had been torrential rains in the Adirondacks and the West Canada Creek was in flood stage. When we went into the powerhouse, (we had complete freedom to wander all over the place in those innocent days,) all seven generators were running full blast, and up in the gorge, all the falls were running as if there were no power plant. When we got on the river, the usual white water rapids were several feet deep and it was an ordinary river. I was stern in a canoe, Walter my bow and some kid in the center. When we got to the usual take-out place, Dad, who was in charge, his last year, decided to go on to the next town, over the "Ledges," a portion of the river we had tried the first year and had to walk most of the ways. When we got into it, it was rough. Every canoe but Dad's capsized. When ours went over, Walter was in his element. He shouted, "Shipwreck! Shipwreck! The Titanic!" He hung a shirt on a paddle and waved it about. He had a ball. A couple of Commodore stories totally irrelevant to HBC but characteristic of the person. Walter (Wally to me) was totally unathletic. With Gilman's requirement of athletics for all, he did cross country in the fall, special exercises in the winter, but in the spring, he was on the track team, running the quarter mile. He competed joyfully. I don't recollect that he ever won a race, but his spiked feet swinging wildly in all directions scared some of the competitors off. Another story from Princeton. His roommate all four years was another Gilman boy, Oliver Reeder, who was Walter's total opposite, square, conventional to the nth degree. He did cooperate with Walter in climbing to the tower of Nassau Hall to steal the clapper of the bell. If the bell did not ring, there were no classes. If one was caught, it was immediate expulsion. They succeeded and Walter had the clapper sliced in half, and mounted on fine oak plaques. You must have seen it in his apartment. One day, Walter, Billy Lynn, and some other choice spirits were gathered in the room, and Oliver was away form Princeton for some reason. Walter's feet were enormous. I think he had to wear size 13 shoes. The living room of their digs had a fireplace that had been used. Walter took off his shoes, rubbed his feet on the soot at the back of the fireplace, the other guys carried him to Oliver's bedroom, and held him up to put a black footprint on the wall, first the right then the left. They continued, having to go back to the fireplace again and again, up the wall, over the ceiling and down the other side. They then got some fixing spray used by artists on charcoal drawings and sprayed the foot prints. Oliver returned, showed not the slightest reaction, but a couple of days later a painting contractor arrived and did over Oliver's room. I'll send you some photos from my early days with Walter that you might find helpful for the Commodore history.