In time, Scholars understand the Chips Quinn spirit

The Quinns find that the clock still ticks.

We tend to be private people and do not indulge in inflicting our odyssey on others -- except within the family. But Chips Quinn Scholars are family; hence we share this very personal story. It is the story of the Carolina mill clock, often told to Scholars at the end of orientation.

For several years the Quinn family has been restoring the old textile mill in the historic village of Carolina, R.I. About half of the great stone buildings have been put back to civilized use, including the main office, now the Field House. This has become the family center for the complex, furnished with heirlooms -- the Quinn gene never throws anything away.

Among the restored furnishings is the great old mill clock. A pair of brass weights drives the hours, always on time, and a mercury-filled pendulum ticks out the minutes.

This clock never has to be wound, unlike most weight-driven clocks. A small electric motor is tucked inside and clicks on automatically to crank up the weights when they work down to a certain level.

Loie Quinn added her hug to a salute John received from Gannett editors in 1989. © Gannett Co., Inc.

Thus the clock just keeps going, whether anyone is there or not -- until one evening when John and Loie returned from a trip to find the clock stopped, the weights tipped over in the bottom.

John's temper exploded into his bluest city-desk vocabulary. Who, he howled, had disconnected his treasured clock to plug in a CD player, a stupid computer game or such recklessness? So his search of the electric system began and rolled on every evening for about three weeks, while Loie sat quietly by. Finally, when his disposition and her patience were shattered one evening, Loie suggested that they walk back across the bridge to their house, and she would mix him a calming drink. So they went -- he reluctantly. Still the stopped clock haunted John, and he returned the next day.

He walked in the Field House door and BEHOLD: The clock had wound itself, the weights were back up in place and his nudge of the pendulum brought the tick of peace to his world.

He grabbed the intercom to tell Loie she wouldn't believe what had happened -- the clock was wound.

"Sure. I knew it would be working today," was her cool reply.

Loie Quinn gives son, Chips, one of her special hugs during a Memorial Day 1986 gathering at the mill in Carolina, R.I. Family photo

Silence. Stunned silence. Finally, John was able to speak.

"Do you mean to say that you have been sitting through my agonies and you knew how to get the clock going?"

Her explanation: "Last night when I decided we both had had enough of your anguish, I reached over to the arm of the chair next to mine where Chips was sitting the last night we were together, and I asked, 'Chips, will you fix his damn clock?' "

We do not ask others to believe this story, as we certainly do.

We do hope, however, that Chips Quinn Scholars everywhere will heed its message of confidence and comfort, to wit:

• That the Chips Quinn style and spirit will guide the CQS world through times of challenge and opportunity;
  
• That John's "damn clock" still ticks out the minutes of our lives together;
  
• That in time of need all Chips Quinn Scholars can imagine having the solace of a unique Loie Quinn hug.

Amen.

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