This page is intended for biographical sketches that, for one reason or another, failed to be included in the class's 50th reunion book. Like the sketches in that book, they become part of the permanent record of the Class of 1957.

John Michael Spender (posted April 6, 2011)
John R. Peters, Jr. (posted January 19, 2007)
Bruce M. Schragger (posted December 11, 2007)

John Michael Spender (posted April 6, 2011)

After Yale I went to London for three years, allegedly to study law, but really to see one of the world's great cities, hang out, and have a good time. A couple of Yale friends were there , which helped. I took the bar exams, and was admitted to the English bar. Aged 24 I looked for avenues of escaping the work force, found none, and returned to Sydney, my place of birth which I'd visited only a couple of times in the last nine years of my life. It was a shock. Very quiet, very far from the center of things, a bit like getting trapped in a time machine stuck in the thirties.

I started at the Sydney bar in 1961, and practiced law until 1980. We have the split system used in England: solicitors in law firms; and barristers who are sole practitioners and are the ones who wear wigs and gowns and dominate court work. In 1980 I became a member of the Australian House of Representatives (the equivalent to the House of Commons) and spent 10 years there. Most of this time was spent in opposition --which is not where one wants to be--and I was at different times a member of what we call the Shadow Ministry, effectively the alternative government. (Again modeled on the British system.) I started off as Shadow Minister for Aviation (of which I knew nothing at all except the costs of flights to far off places) and Defense Support, i.e. the local defense industry (well, I had been a cadet when at school in Australia and knew how to shoot.) Later I moved to Shadow Attorney General (I did know something about our legal system) and later still became Shadow Minister of Foreign Affairs (surely studying international affairs at Yale was a sufficient qualification). For a while I was Manager of Opposition Business in the House of Representatives and for a very short time Opposition Spokesman on the Status of Women. (This job scared me - Yale had definitely not prepared me to speak about the interests of Australian women.)

I also chaired a joint House of Representatives and Senate committee on the privileges and immunities of parliament. We all got on well and did some useful work, including getting rid of the ancient power of Parliament to expel members--this was something we thought should be left to the electorate.

Politics is an odd life: high, lows, routine, boredom and moments of color. Co-leading a delegation with former Presidents Carter and Ford (two very different personalities) to oversight Noreiga's 1989 "elections" in Panama was definitely a moment of color. My first and only time in an Air Force One jet--it really is the only way to fly--was from Washington to Panama, and back again. (One of the delegation, who had been in President Reagan's cabinet, told me the most bitter fights among cabinet members were over who got which plane.)

In 1990 I lost my seat--as we call it when the electorate boots you out--and returned to the only thing I knew anything about, the bar. I spent a year on our State Supreme Court, and in 1996 was appointed ambassador to France, Morocco, and Portugal--resident in Paris, in a concrete bunker purpose built by the Australian Government and sturdy enough to withstand a direct hit from a nuclear bomb. In 1998 I was asked to take and accepted the additional job of Australian Special Envoy to Cyprus. (Special Envoys to Cyprus from foreign governments are thick on the ground, their task being to show the Greek and Turkish governments and peoples that we care about Cyprus' s problems, but as always good intentions don't mean good results. Cyprus will sort itself out only when its two ethnic groups decide to live together in relative harmony.)

Since returning to Australia in 2000 I've done some work as mediator and arbitrator, but spend more of my time on other things, including writing. At Yale I had the good fortune to take a course in creative writing under Robert Penn Warren, and picked up the notion that I could write fiction. I am the author of two unpublished works of fiction--deservedly unpublished, I add, and am part way through a third which I hope to finish before I hit the class memorial column: a good example of the triumph of optimism over experience.

Don't think that this career path--if it could be called that--was the result of some grand plan. It seems to me more like that poem by Ogden Nash: "There once was a man who said damn, It's come to me that I am, Ordained to move on predestined grooves, I'm not even a bus I'm a tram."

I have two fine and loving daughters. Neither is a lawyer, nor do they want to go into politics: for which my thanks to any gods still left in the heavens.

[The statement above is supplemented by the tributes to John Spender delivered at a session of the Australian Parliament following his death on October 13, 2022. The video of the tributes can be accessed via the following link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1DPiaFX67vLpePIOHVIebdjP8urmKqJ1h/view]

John R. Peters, Jr. (posted January 19, 2007)

Like most of you, my parents, Yale, my friends and religion had a significant effect upon my life. However, my destiny was to be linked prominently to the sea.

Before Yale, I had spent much of my leisure sailing and boating.

I got my first boat at age four. I came to Yale on a Navy scholarship. I spent three years in destroyers in the Pacific. After the service, I attended Tulane Law School with emphasis on maritime law and then joined a large law firm’s maritime section.

Maritime practice kept me quite busy in all parts of the world. I was involved in numerous major marine casualties. I retired in 2000. My chief hobbies involved offshore fishing on boats I owned or boats of others around the world. I studied the ocean and offshore fishing. I am blessed with three sons who now are proficient mariners and continue to aid in maintaining our crafts.

Upon retirement, my wife and I took up permanent residence on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. We had built a home on the coast with a great view and a protected boat slip. We loved the coast and enjoyed the company of many friends had also retired to the area. The sea had been good to my family and me. However, it also turned out to be a fickle mistress. We left with our three dogs and a few of our more valued possessions several hours before Hurricane Katrina hit. When we were able to return, 10 days after the storm, the area had been destroyed. I had spent many weeks working for Mitsubishi in Hiroshima, Japan. The photos and exhibits at the peace museum there were the closest likeness to the Gulf coast and our home.

The infrastructure on the coast is so lacking that rebuilding a home at this time is not feasible. In the meantime, we have been replacing our furnishings, our clothes and our boats. Unfortunately, our books, photos, etc., are irreplaceable. Our health is good.

My wife and we are happy. She has a home on a family sugar plantation where we now reside. It is on the Mississippi river 35 miles up from New Orleans. We continue to fish offshore and spend time on or near the sea.

Since I wrote this, which unfortunately was not included in our 50th yearbook -- either because of my poor computer skills (the result of always being supported by an excellent information services department) or else my onetime roommate, Andy Glass, felt what I had to say was not significant – which I sincerely hope was not the case. Since then, my wife and I acquired a trawler and plan to cruise the gulf and East coast. Our 50th Reunion proved to be one of the great high points of my later life. I hope it does not take another 50 years to get together again.

Bruce M. Schragger (posted December 11, 2007)

Fifty-five years ago when I applied to Yale, Brown and Dartmouth were my safety schools. I was really a very cocky public high school senior, or things were quite different. In any event, being accepted at my first choice was a great decision and even with ups and downs was the right decision. My one regret as an undergraduate was that so many extracurricular activities required first year efforts and I was too concerned that as a public high school graduate the academic pressures would be too great.

Yale and New Haven became home for seven years. Irene, who was my girlfriend when I arrived in New Haven, became my wife the week after we graduated. We will celebrate our 50th anniversary on June 16th. I went on to Yale Law School and we were both fortunate enough that Irene transferred to New Haven State Teacher's College where it cost $25.00 a semester her first year and $50.00 a semester her second and last year. She went on to teach at Pumpkin Delight in Milford, Connecticut and Jim, our son, was born at Yale New Haven Hospital on May 19, 1960, a few weeks before my law school graduation. As a result of his birth, I did not have time to study for my law school exams which was a blessing in disguise. (I studied the first two hours before each four hour exam and wrote for two hours. I had to be more to the point and as a result had the best grades of my career).

My son, John, arrived three years later - he, however, did not choose the law as his career.

He is in construction and management but does share offices with me!

My biggest regret was Yale's rejecting Jim for admission, particularly with our classmates holding administrative positions of power, after he graduated #1 in his class at George School, a fine Quaker Prep School in Newtown, Pennsylvania.

In trying to remember past experiences as an undergraduate, I came across a poem written by Larry Rentschler (who regrettably died on June 3, 1985) when Irene, Larry, myself and, I forget who else, were celebrating at Mory's on Friday night, March 7,1957. In any event, thinking of Larry and that night at Mory's brought back many fine memories. It was difficult to decipher his handwriting, but to the best of my ability, it read as follows:

A night of party, humor and drink
A time to laugh but not to think
For thought is a fountain of world renown
But is a phobia of merit not sound

One drink, another and still one more
A race to the bill a lane to the shore
But memories and life all of similar soil
To relieve and place purpose to easterly toil.

It does not make a lot of sense, but does reflect the relaxation and enjoyment that we as seniors all had, particularly since I had already been accepted at Yale Law School. The acceptance at the law school, in and of itself, is a great story of my undergraduate years and experiences. My last year at Yale, I had only nine hours of class and would leave New Haven on Wednesday and return on Sunday. I had completed my honors thesis during the summer, so had little or no pressure with only three classes. On Valentine's Day, 1957, I had already been accepted at Penn and Virginia Law School, each of which wanted $100 to hold my place. I decided to speak to Dean Tate, the Dean of Admissions. When I entered his office he was on the telephone with Roger Blough, the then chairman of U. S. Steel Corp. preparing for the law school's major alumni fund raising weekend. Dean Tate picked up my application, looked at my minimal schedule, and said to me without hesitation, "what are you doing with all of your time?" I truthfully answered that I had been doing a lot of reading. He then responded, "what was the last book you read?", and I said, "Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native", and he said, "I love that book! Who were the characters?" I went blank and was fortunately honest enough to say, "I can't remember." He responded, "I could never remember Hardy's characters either. I will see you in September." I ran out of the office, ran to the train station, and home to celebrate with Irene. We then spent three wonderful years as 220 Park Street. The building is still there as an apartment house, and we walk by every time we are in New Haven.

I've spent the next 40 years happily practicing law - a career I selected when I was only five. My son and partner thinks I have retired but attorneys rarely retire! I just travel more and work less.

At age '35', I took a sabbatical as a "private practitioner" and served as Mercer County prosecutor, where I learned of the unlimited power of a prosecutor. This experience not only was a great passage in life but gave me a great fear of the unlimited power of the position. When I was appointed prosecutor, my Dad (with whom I practiced law until his death a few years ago) gave me some advice. He said "when you become a cop, get out". Of course, it was shortly thereafter that he said, "You've become a cop, I'm ashamed of you." What did he mean? He meant that as a cop you see black and white and no gray, but as a prosecutor who is allegedly there to protect both the innocent and guilty - there is a lot of gray in the world.

The experience has certainly heightened my fear of the unlimited and unchecked power of government. All I can think of is the fear we had as young "Yalies" during the McCarthy Era. Something that too few of us appear to be concerned about today. We should be able to fight terror without destroying our individual freedom.

I believed then, and I believe now that we are probably better off with one guilty person going free than one innocent man being convicted and going to jail!

Life has been good - Irene and I are enjoying "good" health. My sons and grandchildren all live within 10 minutes of Irene and I. I still enjoy practicing law. Irene became an interior designer when the boys were old enough to be left alone. We both have many hobbies, including traveling, reading, spending lots of time in New York City, etc.