Remembering Earl Jette
Earl Jette, an adopted member of the class of ’55, died last December at 85. He started at Dartmouth as an assistant to ski coach Al Merrill in 1970 and retired in 2000 as the director of Outdoor Programs and executive director of the Dartmouth Outing Club. During three decades working out of Robinson Hall, Jette’s laid-back approach to giving college students responsibility and trusting them to hold themselves accountable left generations with valuable life lessons—and enough “Earl stories” to last a lifetime. Here, used with permission, are a few of the memories shared on the DOC’s “chubbernet” listserv following Jette’s death.
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I came into Earl’s office with the news that I had fallen asleep and driven the chicken van off the road, totaling the van and—except for Owen Dempsey’s bike, which was seat-belted into the empty passenger seat—damaging all the bicycles from that round of freshman trips. First thing Earl said was, “Anybody hurt?”
I said, “No.”
Calm as a cucumber, he said, “Okay.”
That was it!
I think that incident caused the College policy change that gave van drivers more time off and required two drivers per vehicle.
—Dave Focardi ’81
As I was leaving the family camp on Reservoir Pond I saw the DOC stake truck go by at a speed faster than it should have. I found the truck upside down on the last turn before the Skiway. I saw a student crawl out from under the truck bed, take two steps, and lie down in the road. The truck bed was loaded with old lumber with the spare tire on top to weigh it down. The spare tire ended up in a vertical position that held the truck off the student and probably saved his life. You can imagine the lumber and assorted tools all over the road. I went to the nearest phone and called Earl. Earl asked, in typical form, “Anybody hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Ambulance there?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to send someone to pick up the tools, etc.?”
“No, the students will handle it.”
That was the end of it as far as I know.
—Donald Cutter Jr. ’73
My favorite “Okay moment” with Earl was the time someone dropped a tree on a perfectly good chainsaw and absolutely shattered the thing. We brought the pieces of that poor saw back to campus in a cardboard box, showed it to Earl, and got the classic “S*** happens” response or something to that effect. I took the boxful of pieces, made a mobile, and gave it back to Earl. The “artwork” hung from the ceiling of his office for at least the duration of my undergraduate career and maybe even longer.
—Christopher Mumford ’77
Earl always said, “Give them enough rope to hang themselves but yank it back just before they do.”
—Jim “Pork Roll” Taylor ’74
Earl knew students did stupid things and they did awesome things. He supported both.
Earl was pretty good at participating as a team member and then acting as the leader when something went wrong. A small group of us went to Dan & Whit’s, bought several gallons of white gas, and drove to Woodstock [Vermont]. We hiked up a snowy road to a small, rotting cabin, poured the gas, and watched the cabin be consumed by flames. The heat was intense. We cut 20-foot-long saplings to roast marshmallows from afar. As the roof collapsed, the lead firefighter from the local fire troop arrived running, out of breath. When he saw us there enjoying ourselves roasting marshmallows, he almost stroked out. The four or five students melted into the woods, but Earl stood his ground. The cabin burned. We never did learn what ultimately happened, but I am pretty sure Earl, many deans, and probably several lawyers were involved, yet Earl never involved us.
—Jay Benson ’90
One winter we had a bonfire of old lumber and brush behind the Atwell Hilton. Someone decided to make things more interesting by throwing in some old spray paint cans. I can remember Earl (and Sam Smith) quickly walking up around to the front of the Hilton to be out of the way of any flying debris. I think it was evident to us that it hadn’t been a good idea, though the explosion was impressive.
Earl was a great teacher because when we’d done something foolish or poorly, he didn’t berate us or lecture afterwards. Lesson learned, so no commentary needed. Earl’s way: nothing to push up against, just time to ponder on our own.
—Ann (Schrot) Gregoire ’92
In the fall of 1971, under Earl’s tutelage, I was the first woman to make a pair of snowshoes in the basement of Robinson Hall, from an ash tree someone had cut down. I was impressed by both his knowledge and his patience. He was welcoming and generous with his time and advice. He encouraged me and took me and small groups of women to explore DOC properties. I still have those snowshoes.
—Valerie Armento ’73
My introduction to Earl was as a wide-eyed 16-year-old freshman on the way to the 1977 winter Woodsmen’s Meet in Montreal. Friday night Earl was driving a van full of us up I-89 in a light and breezy snow. Ron Shores [’76] needed a stop to relieve himself of some of the liquid consumed while in the van. Earl thoughtfully pulled over to the shoulder, and Ron took up a position directly in front of the van and facing it, so he was both discreet and aiming downwind. Once things were underway, Earl turned on the high beams, put the van in reverse, and slowly backed up.
—Ed McNierney ’80
When I was director of freshman trips in 1982, Earl taught me valuable management techniques that I still use today. He would ask me what I had been doing, and I would tell him about this and that—and then he would quietly bring up the issues and tasks I had completely missed. I left every meeting grateful and relieved that he had prevented me from dropping a ball. There was no judgment, just straight up support.
—Ashley Korenblat ’83, Tu’86
We were working on the late, lamented Hellgate Gorge camp, fall of ’74. We progressed to where we needed to work around the yet-to-be-installed window frames. Tyck [Weed ’71] said, “I know Al [Merrill] drew a diagram for window placement on a board around here somewhere.” We searched for several minutes. Jack [Noon ’68] said, “I’ll betcha it’s on the underside of one of those floorboards we nailed down yesterday.” There was a long silence. Then Earl said, “Well, where do you guys think those windows ought to go?” And that’s where they went, too.
—Bernie Waugh ’74
One day I walked into Earl’s office and asked if he had a particular file. Without hesitation he walked over to his filing cabinet, opened it, reached in, and grabbed the file. As a child of the digital age, I wondered aloud how he did that with such facility. He guffawed, gestured at my laptop, and responded in kind. He asked if I could fit his entire filing cabinet on my computer, to which I replied that, were they formatted correctly, I could fit the entire written works of human civilization on it. We shared a moment of intergenerational awe.
I think about Earl a lot as I try to balance the increasing demands of a litigious and exacting society and the need for our young people to try new things, challenge themselves, and fail with grace.
—Rory Gawler ’05
A celebration of Earl Jette will be held in the Second College Grant during the weekend of July 25-27. Contact Outdoor Programs for details.
Jim Collins is a frequent contributor to DAM.
