Family Memories of Williams College

By Steve Lathrop, April 23, 2018

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My father’s name was Francis Owen Lathrop, Jr.  His father’s name was Francis Owen Lathrop, Sr., which of course makes the latter my grandfather.   We called him “Gunka.”  This is probably the first time I have ever spelled out Gunka’s name, so I don’t even know if there is a correct spelling, or whether it is one of those names intended only for the spoken word, or whether any number of spelling options is totally acceptable.  My corresponding grandmother we called Nannie.  So it was always “Nannie and Gunka.”  The two names rolled off the tongues of my brother, sisters and me together, like Mutt and Jet.  Since I was the youngest child in my family, I inherited the nicknames of family friends, enemies and grandparents.  Most of the nicknames were socially acceptable, but “Gunka” raised eyebrows and curiosity.  It sounds like something one could find in a used handkerchief.   Calling your grandfather a name that sounded like a synonym of nose snot always made me a bit uneasy.

 

I had the good fortune of not being named Francis Owen Lathrop, III.  When you add “III” on to any name with three or more parts, it makes the name sound like it evolved from royal English lineage, or at least from a significant amount of blue blood picked up somewhere along Commonwealth Avenue in Boston.  And when you’re dealing with 2 or 3 middle names, the blood gets really thick.  I like having thin red blood, and not thick blue blood.  So, a single middle name and no extensions added to the three parts suited me fine: Stephen Gordon Lathrop.  This somehow makes me a bit of a rebel.  When it came time to choosing a college, my rebellious nature unconsciously kicked in.

 

My grandfather went to Williams and belonged to the Sig House fraternity.  My father went to Williams, and he belonged to the Sig House too.  As a child, I heard lots of stories about Williams College and especially the Sig House.  At Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and summer family gatherings, Williams College, the Williams-Amherst football game, and the Sig House all received lots of courage.  It didn’t help that my Uncle George Fernald from the other side of my family also went to Williams.  For a 10 or 11 year-old kid, all these Williams stories were very, very boring, and certainly not worth remembering.  So, I made sure not to remember any.

 

Meanwhile, Nannie reveled in stories about Williams and measured her year around the Williams-Amherst football games.  For her, the more faces she recognized at the games, the higher the score.  By the end of the weekend, I don’t think she ever knew the football score, nor even who won the game.  I was occasionally dragged along on some of these trips to watch the Ephs do their thing with the pigskin on the gridiron.  Most of my entertainment at these games had nothing to do with watching fumble after fumble.  For me, it was watching grown adults, many with all-white hair, jumping up and down, yelling some words intended as encouragement for the purple and yellow, yelling a different set of words intended as insults to the referees, and generally acting like an embarrassing bunch of misbehaving grammar school kids.  Even at age 10 or 11, I recognized this.

 

For Nannie, I was the last great hope for one of her grandchildren to become a matriculated student at Williams.   I am certain she often dreamed of this.  In fact, she told me so.  She would get all excited just talking about it.  Had Nannie’s son, also known as my father, named me Francis Owen Lathrop, III, perhaps I would have been more numbed to family tradition and just followed along the path to Williams.  However, quite obliviously, I rode off to Middlebury.  Now, another generation has arrived, and Nannie and Gunka’s stories and dreams can be recycled with the coming graduation of Lara Peters Lathrop, Williams, ‘18.