A Profound and Lasting Effect

By Peter Golden

Chuck Romack, whom I knew casually at Darrow, if only because I was at school just for a year in the late 1950s, had a profound and lasting effect on my life that carries on to this day.

Was there ever a nicer, more even guy than Chuck Romack? In those instances when we did have occasion to chat - We might have been in a class together, or been assigned to a crew during "Hands to Work" – he was unfailingly understated, modest and gently humorous.

Across the span of half a century, that image maintains. And if, in that moment when those who loved Chuck and lived out their lives with him should come to read these words, let them stand as a memorial, albeit a brief one, to a wonderful human being.

That said, I have a clear memory of Chuck writing something and gaining recognition before the school as a result. It might have been an essay, a poem, or even a subject paper.

Whatever it was, it was of sufficient merit that he was praised warmly and publicly, all of which he took in good grace, without false modesty, but with self-evident, modest pleasure. He was that kind of guy.

Like everyone else who knew Chuck, I was more than pleased by his success, but I was also intrigued. As a kid I had the coordinate skills of a mollusk and the quantitative talent of a brick. To say that sports and study were a challenge to me is to understate the case. But I was able to find refuge in reading, which I did with abandon. And, as a result, I developed one, sure, enduring talent.

I could write, and still do. In that first moment when I saw Chuck being praised, I began to gain a sense of my own salvation, although I would have to wait until I was 40 years of age to begin to fulfill it.

Chuck got me excited about the notion of creativity, my idea of which was a blend of art and commerce. I even began to plan with Tanner to found an advertising agency.

And, lo and behold, as recently as this morning, I worked on revising the design for an ad with one of my staff people – something I've been doing since 1984. Previously I had worked in the computer industry, taught, and been a theatrical stage manager. But I never gave up that kernel of an idea that had taken root on the day Chuck was commended for his work.

Does anyone remember that moment? It might have been out of doors, next to Wickersham. Who can remember such things?

These days I write as easily as I breathe, not because I am possessed of any great talent or insight, but because I have worked at the craft of scribbling for decades. And for that I must give thanks to Chuck, who on that long ago day at Darrow caused me to think, “Hey, I can do that, too!”

In short, Chuck Romack gave me the inspiration to have a life. I never really verbalized that thought, but it is true, and his passing has crystallized the thought. In the last two months I have had the honor and privilege of writing about Thoreau and Emerson, the great German architect Walter Gropius, the natural and agricultural landscape of the towns surrounding Boston, and the presidential election.

Today, I am working on a brief history of a famous theater troupe from the 1950s that included Fritz Weaver, Rosemary Harris and Jerry Stiller. On the agenda for next year is a piece on a widely-known condominium and a history of clock making in Concord, Massachusetts. On the side I am editing a masterwork on the life of Kawakami, Japan’s champion of modern theater and a major influence in the worlds of art, dance and opera in the west. From all of this I derive the keenest pleasure.

Chuck, of course, knew none of this. But in recollecting his influence, so distant now, yet so compelling, I now am beginning to understand more fully my relationship to Darrow.

Frankly, I was a bit out of sorts with the place. My own state of mind was somewhat ambiguous, being the son of a teacher of modest means and a kid whose store of neurotic compulsion was deep and varied. I was a master of confusion, resentment and anxiety, all of which served to limit my enjoyment and success in what was by any measure a place offering exceptional opportunities to learn and grow.

Being inclined to the defensive, I clung to the coarse strands of racism, anti-Semitism and rich kid snobbery I found pervasive in the Darrow of the 1950s. Why have a good time when there was so much to be resentful about?

Chuck did not share my alienation. Instead, like so many of the kids, he reveled in the intelligence and generous support offered by faculty members like Beaver, Henderson, Anderson and Emery...and the moral edifice represented by the Boss. Smart guy, Romack.

The impressions of those brief, formative days at Darrow live on in memory with the clarity and radiance of jewels. Shaker architecture, landscape and implements are all imbued with elements of the sacred – the same transcendent nourishment of the soul one can find in the work of Emerson and Thoreau. “In wildness lies the salvation of mankind,” said Thoreau in his essay on walking, the original manuscript of which I actually had a chance to hold and examine recently, as part of my work.

And that was another part of Darrow. In the hills beyond the campus and the long, misted views down the Lebanon Valley, God dwelled in nature, not just in the wooden chapel by the pond.

That was all a long, long time ago, but I have never forgotten Darrow and I will never forget Chuck Romack. I didn’t realize it then, and in realizing it now I have some regret that I never took the time to know him better and to say, ‘Thanks, friend. In your modest acceptance of success you shared with me by example the notion that I could have a life.’

Fare thee well, friend, and may the spirit that infuses the life of all mankind guide thee in thy journey into eternity.

Peter Golden November 8th, 2008

Peter Golden writes about the American experience from Natick, Massachusetts. E-mail him at petewrites@aol.com.