Legacies of Service

Remembering three late alumni who answered the call of public office

Bruce Sundlun ’38

In the spring of 1944, an American B-17 Flying Fortress was shot down over Belgium. All nine members of the aircraft’s crew were presumed dead, including pilot Bruce Sundlun ’38. In a moving tribute, The Log shared excerpts from letters Sundlun had received during his time in the military.

“By your skillful airmanship and courage, you have enabled our squadron, group, and wing to deal vital blows,” his squadron commander wrote earlier in the war. “Your performance of duty,” another officer wrote following a successful mission, “was superior. The courage, coolness, and skill displayed by you reflects great credit upon yourself.” 

Sundlun’s obituary was printed in May. In September, The Log (and newspapers across the country) issued a retraction. “Lt. Bruce G. Sundlun, ’38, erroneously reported in these columns as killed in action, is alive and well … according to a letter received by his parents.” 

After their plane was hit, Sundlun wrote his parents, the crew was able to complete its bombing run. On their way back, they were attacked again by a flock of German fighter jets. Four of Sundlun’s men were killed. As the plane went down, he gave the order to bail. Sundlun was the last one out the door, parachuting into Nazi-occupied Belgium. It was daytime and he had to move quickly to evade capture. 

“[At first,] I’m thinking barns and haystacks,” he recounted to The Providence Journal half a century later. “Well, the story on haystacks was that the Germans would spray a haystack with a machine gun instead of looking through it. I didn’t want to do that.” 

He hurried into a dirt field, using a branch to sweep his footprints, and ducked into a furrow. Once darkness arrived, he found shelter with a sympathetic family. They connected him with the local resistance, and he was eventually smuggled to France where he helped a guerrilla group sabotage Nazi supply lines near the Swiss border. 

“We would play it cool until sometime during the night, then we’d go in and attack,” he told The Journal. “The Germans would fight back and there’d be some gunfire, but we’d do more damage to them than they’d do to us ‘cause we knew every rock and tree.”

After the war, Sundlun resumed his undergraduate studies at Williams College before earning his law degree and becoming an assistant United States attorney. He moved into the private sector and established himself as a shrewd executive, eventually becoming the CEO of Outlet Communications, a broadcasting company that he led for ten years. When Sundlun took over, Outlet’s stock price was $4 per share. A decade later, it was trading at $68. 

Excelling in business allowed Sundlun to return his attention to public service. He had been an active member of the Democratic party for years—President Kennedy tapped Sundlun to co-chair his inaugural committee in 1961—but his financial success gave him the means and freedom to launch his own political career. In 1986, Sundlun ran for governor in his beloved home state. 

“Bruce comes from some place called Rhode Island,” Tabor’s 1938 yearbook noted cheekily. “In two minutes he will make you believe it is three times larger than Texas.” 

Sundlun secured the Democratic nomination, but he lost to Edward DiPrete, Rhode Island’s incumbent governor, by over 100,000 votes. Undaunted, Sundlun ran again in 1988. Once again, he lost to DiPrete. This time, however, the margin was less than 7,000. Two years later, he defeated DiPrete by over 170,000 votes. Sundlun, the grandson of Lithuanian immigrants, became the second Jewish governor in the state’s history and the only Jewish governor in the country at the time of his election.

“I was proud to see our classmate, Bruce Sundlun, elected Governor of Rhode Island,” his friend Paul Vaitses ’38 shared in a class note that spring. “Bruce starred in track and football at Tabor. He was aggressive and goal-oriented then and, obviously, still is today.”

Sundlun relied on these traits throughout his two terms as governor. On his first day in office, he closed 45 of the state’s banks because their private insurer had collapsed. While the move was praised for averting a fiscal catastrophe, protests erupted over so many depositors losing access to their savings. Sundlun was burned in effigy outside the State House, but the unflappable governor engineered a plan to repay all funds plus interest over the next two years. 

“He was used to making tough decisions and his forcefulness served the state well during some very difficult times,” said Eleanor Cornwell, the late Brown University political scientist. “I think history will treat him well.”

Sundlun’s political legacy includes shepherding several vital infrastructure projects, such as building the Verrazzano Bridge and Jamestown Expressway, as well as making Rhode Island more attractive to tourists. He pushed through the expansion of Providence’s T.F. Green Airport, where the new terminal bears his name, and he arranged financing for the Providence Place Mall. 

Despite the demands of his office, Sundlun often made time for Tabor. In April of 1994, a letter addressed to “Mr. Downes’ Block 6 U.S. History” arrived on official State of Rhode Island letterhead. The class had contacted the governor to ask about his views on the relationship between education and leadership.

“The more education you have, the more you will know about history and examples of leadership, and that knowledge will enhance your own ability to lead,” Sundlun wrote. “However, in my opinion, there is a visceral, natural leadership instinct, which probably exists regardless of education.”

He went on to describe one of the best leaders he had encountered in his early life. Walter “Cappy” Lillard was Tabor’s headmaster when Sundlun attended. “The dignity and charm of Cappy Lillard,” Sundlun observed, “was real.” As one of the only Jewish students at Tabor, Sundlun felt uncomfortable by the presence of German exchange students who refused to block for him on the football field. Upon discovering this, Lillard brought Sundlun and the German boys into his office for a meeting. “After that, things went rather well,” wrote Sundlun. 

Of course, a much graver conflict awaited Sundlun and the rest of the world. But the education he received at Tabor helped prepare him to become a leader who was capable of rising to meet any challenge. This became clear during the war and throughout the rest of his life.  

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Kevin White ’48

By his own admission, Kevin White ’48 was not the strongest student in high school. “While most boys were rowing, growing, reading, and studying, I was doing none of these,” he wrote in the Winter 1972 issue of Tabor Academy Journal. “Tabor took the best I could give it in terms of punishment and returned it, and in the process, knocked off some rough edges.”

Headmaster James Wickenden saw potential in White and helped him get into Williams College. It was, White said years later, “no small achievement.” Wickenden’s confidence was well placed. Whatever success eluded White in the classroom, he found in spades across campus. He captained the baseball team and was active in student government. At the 1947 Annual Rally, a banquet to honor athletic teams and student clubs, his remarks were the highlight of the event. 

The Log reported, “Kevin White, in his free and easy style, brought down the curtain on a fine evening of speech-making and entertainment with his talk on baseball.” 

The thoughtful charisma that White displayed at a young age was a harbinger of the storied career that lay ahead. After graduating from law school, he decided to enter the family business. His father and grandfather were politicians. Both men served as presidents of the Boston City Council. At the age of 31, White was elected Secretary of State of Massachusetts, the youngest to ever hold the position. He was re-elected three times.  

In 1965, Lloyd Kramer ’65 interviewed White for The Log. “[White] recalls that his close association with the faculty and his strong admiration for the headmaster, Mr. James W. Wickenden, helped to instill in him an approach to problems beyond his control,” Kramer wrote. The years ahead would feature many such problems.

In 1967, White ran for mayor of Boston. The city was struggling, marred by economic stagnation and simmering racial unrest. Rent control became one of his key platforms. “When landlords raise rents,” a campaign slogan read, “Kevin White raises hell.” 

No issue was more urgent or contentious than the subject of school desegregation. Louise Day Hicks, White’s opponent, took a stance against integration, particularly through court-ordered busing. While White was skeptical of busing, he was decisive about acknowledging the need to address racial inequality. Breaking a 75-year tradition of political neutrality, The Boston Globe endorsed White. He defeated Hicks and went on to serve four terms, guiding Boston through 16 turbulent years while transforming the city into a world-class metropolis. 

“When Mr. White assumed the mayoralty in 1968, Boston was a tinderbox,” wrote The New York Times in his 2012 obituary. “In this roiling storm, Mr. White was widely seen as a stabilizing presence.” 

One of the biggest tests of his leadership occurred during his first year in office. When Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, protests and violence erupted in cities across the country. Coincidentally, James Brown was scheduled to perform at the Boston Garden the night after King’s death. White faced heavy pressure to cancel the event as city officials feared that 15,000 distraught concert-goers could start a riot. The mayor pursued a different course. 

Not only did White allow the concert to proceed, he arranged for it to be televised. “The broadcast kept people at home in front of their television sets and became popularly known as ‘the night James Brown saved Boston,’” The New York Times wrote in 2012. Appearing on stage with Brown, White implored the audience—and everyone watching at home—to remember King’s vision of peace. Brown referred to White as “a swinging cat.” The broadcast was replayed throughout the night, and Boston was spared the fate of other cities. Recalling this moment in White’s obituary, The Washington Post referred to the concert as “a triumph of good will.” 

As the busing decision moved through the court system, White was ultimately tasked with enforcing the controversial policy. It cost him significant political capital, but he prioritized the safety of the children who were caught in the middle, particularly the Black students whose buses were pelted by rocks and accosted by protesters. Busing invariably became a defining chapter of White’s tenure, but his legacy spans volumes.  

Under White’s leadership, Boston’s physical and economic identity changed dramatically. He oversaw a building boom that fueled the revitalization of downtown and the development of the city’s waterfront. The crown jewel of all this construction was the renovation and reopening of Faneuil Hall in 1976. That same year, as part of America’s Bicentennial festivities, White escorted the Queen of England in a cheerful parade past City Hall.

White is also remembered for enacting significant changes to how the mayor’s office looked and functioned. He sought to decentralize municipal government by creating a series of “Little Town Halls” in local neighborhoods, and he made a point of hiring people of color for senior positions in his administration. He also held a genuine respect for the younger generation, which helped draw talented young minds to public service.  

In 2011, The Boston Globe reflected, “White combined two characteristics that made him particularly attractive to brilliant, ambitious idealists. Charismatic leadership and a loose style of management. Working for White meant joining a mission with moral meaning—and without tight bureaucratic constraints. You could quickly do big things.”  

A proud alumnus, White maintained strong ties to Tabor. In 1971, he welcomed several Log reporters to his office at City Hall. “I think you’re brighter and sharper and more knowledgeable,” he said, comparing them to his generation. “I think you guys are way ahead.” 

When the students asked about his years in Marion, White spoke from the heart. “If there are three or four significant turning points in my life,” he said, “Tabor was one of them.”  

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Barry Hannon ’54

Politicians enter the arena for many reasons. For some, it’s the opportunity to wield power and influence. For others, it’s the chance to advance an ideological agenda. For everyone, ideally, it’s rooted in a desire to serve the public good. For Barry Hannon ’54, it was about his respect for the law. 

At Tabor, Hannon was a serious student who sailed in the fall and golfed in the spring. He attended the College of the Holy Cross before earning his law degree from Boston University. Upon passing the bar exam, he served in the Air Force as a Judge Advocate Counsel (JAG) for the Tactical Air Command. It was a role that provided him with extensive trial experience as both a prosecutor and defense attorney. 

In 1966, Hannon was elected to the Massachusetts House of Representatives. He served two terms representing his hometown of Braintree before resigning in 1970 to become the Register of Deeds for Norfolk County. During his time in the legislature, Hannon supported bills that sought to advance consumer protections and strengthen the position of law enforcement. At a hearing to consider a bill that would loosen the state’s abortion laws, Hannon, a pro-life Democrat, brought 30 of his constituents, all mothers, to voice their opposition to the proposed law. 

After four years as the Register of Deeds, Hannon set his sights on higher office. “Barry Hannon is busy seeking the Democratic nomination for Attorney General of Massachusetts,” a class note in the 1974 Tabor Academy Journal reported. “Barry, best described as a moderate hard liner, is campaigning to restore law and order.” 

Although Hannon’s bid was ultimately unsuccessful, he was able to raise awareness for the issues that meant the most to him. He opposed the controversial busing of school children, and he supported a tightening of gun and drug laws. Massachusetts, he believed, was suffering from an epidemic of crime. 

“There’s something definitely wrong with our society when women have to be advised every five minutes in Boston subway stations to keep their hands firmly on their purse,” he told The Berkshire Eagle. “And that’s in the daytime. At night, nobody wants to ride the subways for fear of their lives, not their purses.”

Hannon passed away in 2023 at the age of 87. He was remembered by friends and loved ones for his commitment to his community and his dedication to the law.