THE RHODE ISLAND CENTURY

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Academy's golden days, long history near end
The East Greenwich Academy served as the town's hub as well as a high school for many of its teenagers during its more than 140 years of operation.

By C. EUGENE EMERY JR.
Journal Staff Writer

EAST GREENWICH -- You knew it was a special day in town when the bell of the East Greenwich Academy pealed in the 1920s.

It rang for the holidays, back in an era when Washington's and Lincoln's birthdays where actually celebrated on the days on which they were born. It rang for Rudolph Swanson and his classmates on the bright June morning in 1928 as they marched down the steep hill toward Main Street for their graduation exercises at the Methodist Church.

The 1920s were a turning point for the country and the Academy, which celebrated its 126th year when Swanson graduated.

In a little over a year, the stock market would suffer its biggest decline in history, marking the onslaught of the Great Depression. Fifteen years after his graduation, the Academy would close, its buildings sold to the town and, in many cases, demolished.

But Swanson, the tall thin senior who hailed from Massachusetts, had no way of knowing what was coming on the beautiful June morning.

In the 1920s, people were recovering from a World War that didn't carry a Roman numeral. Americans, determined to return to pre-war ''normalcy,'' were intent on staying out of future international disputes. It was an era of isolationism, soaring stock speculation, real estate booms, sports, jazz bands, and flappers who defied modern conventions of dress. The '20s gave us William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Women had the right to vote. Radio was becoming a popular medium. Alcohol was banned, yet still consumed. The year before Rudy Swanson's graduation, Charles Lindbergh thrilled the nation with his solo flight across the Atlantic.

Swanson, 91, who now lives in Westport, Conn., recalls the era in simpler terms. The Academy ''was a very low-key place. There wasn't the rush and push and everything that's going on at the present time,'' said Swanson, who was destined to return in 1932 as an instructor, and who served as dean of students from 1939 to 1942.

The Academy was isolated, in part, because East Greenwich was a bit isolated, a world away from the big cities. The school was also the cultural nexus of the town.

''The school was pretty much the center for a great many of the town's activities,'' said Swanson, who was editor-in-chief of the yearbook, played baseball and tennis and was on the ''gym team.''

Townspeople would attend the football games. The music department put on a big show every year, as did the drama and gymnastics clubs.

THE EAST GREENWICH Academy was founded as the Kent Academy in 1802 by eight prominent Warwick and East Greenwich men. Built on five acres of Ethan Clark farmland, it boasted that its view of Narragansett Bay ''has been compared to that of the world-renowned Bay of Naples.''

Originally owned by stockholders, it was taken over by the Providence Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1841, under whose guidance it thrived. At one point, three fourths of all Rhode Island teachers were academy graduates. By 1858, the school dedicated a three-story brick headquarters that would serve as the centerpiece of the campus for generations. It housed administration offices, lecture rooms and a third floor chapel with one of the largest pipe organs in the state.

By the 1920s, the campus had five other buildings, according to a brochure from the era. Eastman Hall on Peirce Street served as the girl's dormitory. Boys were housed at The Olney, which faced Church Street; The Winsor, which ''has all the latest conveniences, including shower baths''; and Clark Cottage, where ''lads as young as nine years are received'' and supervised by a house mothers.

Rose Cottage with its prominent cupola, which still stands on Peirce Street, served as the president's home. Near the athletic field was Swift Gymnasium, ''large and well equipped, the equal of many at colleges and universities;'' it was a gift of Mrs. George F. Swift of Chicago.

''All buildings are heated by steam and lighted by electricity,'' the brochure advised parents.

''The campus was very lovely, dotted with huge elms,'' Swanson said.

While the public schools generally handled the lower grades, the Academy was essentially the town's high school -- grades 9 to 12. The town paid to send local students to classes there; they also had the option of going to Warwick or Providence. The Academy offered some advanced courses as well.

RUDY SWANSON was a newcomer to town when he began attending the Academy. Born in Cambridge, Mass., on May 30, 1907, his father had owned a fruit farm in Harvard, Mass. When his father sold the farm, the family moved to East Greenwich, where other members of the Swanson family had settled.

Swanson made the 10-minute trek each day from his home at 70 Hyland Avenue. In those days, most people walked or cycled. There was some bus service and few automobiles, said Swanson. (Most people who had to travel went by train or boat.)

The Academy encouraged students to live on campus, in part because it was a good source of income for the school.

''The advantages of a well-conducted boarding school are very marked,'' a brochure from 1919 asserted. ''Among these are self-reliance, improvement in deportment, acquaintance with the usages of good society, the association of refined and cultured teachers, not merely for a few hours each day in the classrooms, but in the entire home life of the school.''

Tuition, room and board in that era ranged from $400 to $425, depending on the room. The school offered a 10 percent discount if a family had more than one student attending the academy. ''Considering the high cost of provisions and everything connected with the conduct of such an institution, this is very low, less than one half of what many such schools are charging,'' according to the brochure.

The school ran on a very strict schedule, Swanson said.

For students who lived in one of the dormitories, the wind-up alarm clocks started going off at 6 a.m. ''It would usually be a gang-rush to the bathrooms'' to wash up.

By 6:30, everyone had to be in the dining room in the basement of the main building.

''The school was run by the Methodists, so the one thing we always had before we sat down for a meal was grace,'' usually offered by one of the instructors. The most memorable blessing he experienced was when a teacher began '''Dear Lord.' Then he was quiet, quiet for so long the kids started to look up. Finally the instructor said 'Amen' and we started eating. He told me afterward that his mind just went blank. It was a silent grace.''

Classes -- each 45 minutes long and always held in the main building -- began at 8. Sitting at wooden chairs with writing arms, students learned their English, social studies, math and science. Latin was popular. The Music Department, which claimed to offer ''for the most part the same studies which would be given [to students] in the best conservatories of Europe'' taught piano and voice.

Most of the written work was done in fountain pen, the kind with a lever that drew ink into a special chamber. ''We had a Commercial College that taught penmanship, stenography and typing,'' he said. Everyone was taught penmanship, ''and when you see some of the writing today, you wish it had continued.''

Most of the girls were required to take stenography and typing. For boys, it was an elective.

Unlike today, where schools rotate the sequence of classes throughout the week, students always went to the same classes at the same time each day.

At 10:30, everyone retired to the chapel for a half-hour service. ''We'd go up and sing a couple of hymns, have a scripture reading.'' It was also the time for school-wide announcements.

Lunch was at noon. Classes ended at 3:30.

Then it was time for activities or free time. Students who weren't involved in sports, the drama club, or horseback riding could listen to a phonograph record or to the radio, which was just becoming popular. By the time Swanson became dean, about one quarter of the students could afford their own radios.

''I enjoyed the big bands. The Lone Ranger was very popular. It was on between 5 and 6,'' said Swanson.

Dinner was at 6. A two-hour, in-room study period began at 7.

''Whoever was on duty would go around and check the rooms now and then'' to be sure the students were working, said Swanson. ''If they weren't studying, they had to show the supervisor that their work was done.''

''It was easy enough for them to finish up their studying early,'' he said. Like today, the students had study periods where they could complete much of their work.

The nice thing about living at the school was ''at night, if they had problems, the instructors were right in the building and they could get assistance.''

When the studying was done, students could take a bath or shower, or you could go to the basement sink and wash your clothes with a washboard. However, many students could sent their laundry home, even if they lived out of town. ''[Those] parents would visit regularly, at least a couple of times a month,'' Swanson said.

Lights out was at 10.

On the weekends, ''usually there'd be a football game on Saturday or we'd arrange tours'' of a museum or some other attraction, he said. ''The kids themselves would draw up things to do, such as skiing at Goddard Park, or arranging a tennis match.'' Parents would often pick up their youngsters and take them by train to New York for a Broadway show.

Swanson recalls few discipline problems. ''In the eleven years I was there, I don't recall any kid becoming involved with liquor or smoking. We didn't even know about drugs at that time.''

Between the 200 or so students and a faculty of about 14, ''there was a mutual feeling of camaraderie,'' he said. Newly-graduated students would often return to spend time on campus.

''You went out at night and you didn't worry about abduction,'' Swanson said. You ''hardly ever'' locked your doors. ''We didn't think about crime at all.''

SWANSON LEFT for good as the Academy was about to pass into history. The heady '20s were just a memory and the Great Depression changed everything about America.

''The number of students they were getting as boarding students was dropping, and seemingly there wasn't enough leadership from the top to move that ahead,'' Swanson said. ''There was also some agitation in town to build its own high school.''

Even the look of the school had changed. Many of the majestic elms that graced the campus were destined to be knocked down by the 1938 hurricane, he said. Dutch Elm disease would eventually claim the rest.

He left in 1942. World War II loomed and he expected to be drafted. Based on a love for sailing in Greenwich Bay and Narragansett Bay, he had applied for a Navy commission. While he was waiting for it to come through, he was offered a job by the United States Rubber Company, later called Uniroyal, to work in their ballistics division. His job proved so important to the war effort, the government decided to keep him there. He retired in 1972.

Swanson recalled Friday that there were rumors the year that he left that the Academy might be sold, but when the town bought the campus for $41,750 in 1943, he was surprised.

''It broke a lot of hearts,'' Swanson said.

''Everybody was upset when it closed,'' said Thaire H. Adamson, a local historian who graduated from the academy in 1937 and had Swanson as her basketball coach.

The East Greenwich use the Academy property as its high school until 1959, when the town built its own facility, now known as Cole Junior High School.

By then, the town had deemed many of the old buildings too expensive to maintain. The administration building and Winsor Hall were sold to St. Luke's Episcopal Church for $22,000. They were razed so the church could build an addition.

Rose Cottage was sold and is still privately owned. The town wants to tear down North Cottage, behind St. Luke's, but various groups have been looking for uses for the building.

Of the other buildings on the complex, only Swift Gym remains.

The bell that tolled during holidays and graduation exercises now rests on a pedestal in a hallway at Cole, where it sits unnoticed and unrung by a group of students who, by and large, have never filled a fountain pen, never heard the scratch of a phonograph record, and never walked to school a day in their lives.