Dean E. Gordon Bill

A Memorial to One of Dartmouth's Foremost Men

IT is SOMETHING of a truism to say that E. Gordon Bill as an administrator left a profound imprint on the College. As Director of the Office of Admissions, he was in a position to play a strategic part in the inauguration of the Selective Process and to see that system stand the test of time and be accepted by other schools. As Dean of the Faculty, he not only contributed largely to the strengthening of the teaching of the College but also had a large share in the introduction of those unique ventures in education, such as the Artist-in-Residence, the Student-Workshop, the College Naturalist, and other activities that have unquestionably broadened the base of people's conception of what a liberal arts college environment may be. In his long years of official connection with Dartmouth, there was no promising educational experiment that failed to enlist his sympathetic and enthusiastic support.

Every Dartmouth graduate knows of these contributions of the Dean to the College. But not many persons, including members of the faculty, did know E. Gordon Bill, the man. In the December, 1945 issue of the DARTMOUTH ALUMNI MAGAZINE, Professor Herbert F. West contributed a most informative, revealing and sympathetic profile of both the man and his work in an article entitled The DeanUnmasked. In this article, unsurpassed lor its excellent insights, perhaps no statement equalled in perspicacity the following:

"Owen D. Young once said at a dinner in New York at which they were both speakers: 'I like Dartmouth College and I like this Dean who pretends to be hardboiled, but who at heart is a poet.' "

It was his sensitive poetic nature that made him impatient of detail and forced him at times to assume a gruff and blunt exterior which won for him criticism rather than acclaim in the eyes of some whose contacts were merely superficial. But for those who knew him well, this same sensitivity was the inexhaustible source of conviviality, gentleness, and inspiration.

Few men on the Dartmouth campus were his equals in intellectual ability and in capacity for keen analysis and comprehension. And yet, at times, he himself placed an inordinate amount of confidence in his hunches and impulses. For men of lesser mental stature, this can readily be understood. For men of superior capacity, such as was the Dean, it can only be explained in terms of an intuitive reliance on poetic inspiration rather than on long, tedious deliberation.

"I despise hospitals and simply will not go near the places unless I am forced there myself," he said on one occasion. Two days after the Dean had so declared himself on the general subject of hospitals, the faculty member to whom he had made the statement w7ent to Dick's House to visit a friend —also a faculty member—who was to undergo a very serious operation the next day. Imagine the surprise of the visitor when he was told on his arrival that he would find the patient in the living room playing bridge with Dean Bill and two others. And his still greater surprise, when he learned that it was the Dean himself who had prevailed on the other two to go with him to spend the afternoon in a game that would take the patient's mind off his ordeal. Yet, it should have been no occasion for surprise. The Dean doubtless did hate hospitals, but when a human being was involved, that was the paramount consideration.

Anyone who has lived in Hanover can vouch for the authenticity of the following observation. How often did one hear the statement made: "Dean Bill may appear hard-boiled but,, he was the only person in Hanover who dropped me a note when Tom was elected to Phi Beta Kappa; or, when my husband died; or, when I really needed a little lift." Such acts of the utmost simplicity, sincerity and kindliness were as natural to the Dean as the air he breathed. Little did members of the faculty know when they were disappointed in not finding him in his office of an afternoon that at the very moment he may have been saying: "I simply cannot go back to that office after a full morning of it and listen to any more of the problems of my faculty today."

These problems became as personal to him as to the members of the faculty for he never succeeded in divorcing Bill the administrator from Bill the man. Failure in his efforts so to do led inevitably to the development of an inner conflict, the accumulative effect of which took its toll in health in his later years.

Exceedingly sensitive to the beauties of nature, he revealed his true self to people by making such comments as, "The oak leaves are particularly beautiful this fall for they seem to have fewer blemishes than usual." Equally sensitive to the dignity and worth of the human personality, he did the most unexpected simple acts of thoughtfulness. What made them appear unexpected in the eyes of the casual observer was that the Dean was being his true self, the poet, and not his alter-ego, the administrator.

In Dean Bill's death, those who knew him intimately have lost a warm friend and a great companion. In the annals of Dartmouth, he will remain a dynamic and colorful figure.

EARL GORDON BILL

President's Tribute DEAN BILL had a long and varied career in Dartmouth's service. As teacher, Director of Admissions, Dean of Freshmen, and Dean of the Faculty, for over a quarter of a century, he was one of those relatively rare personages who become Hanover landmarks for all Dartmouth men. Twenty-three years ago as an uneasy applicant for admission, the name "E. Gordon Bill' and a Hanover postmark were the most important things in my life. Later as an even more uneasy freshman. Dean Bill in person was one of those experiences in growing up which a man remembers. When I returned to Hanover in November, 1945, he was already in poor health and he was never to be well again. One of my lasting memories of him on the job is the installation ceremony when as Dean of the Faculty he presented President Hopkins to me as a candidate for Dartmouth's honorary degree of Doctor of Laws. The unfeigned pride and stout vigor with which he performed that last ceremonial act for Dartmouth were truly symbolic of the robust affection for this College which dominated his life and work. JOHN SLOAN DICKEY.