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The Boston Globe Sunday Magazine's cover page is captioned:
'School for scandal'
' Sexual harassment charges against the headmaster 
are stirring  a very public controversy at the private Berkshire School.'
BY JUDITH GAINES

---

When Paul Christopher became headmaster of the Berkshire School, he brought with him credentials as an ethicist and champion of traditional values. Now he's embroiled in a sexual harassment scandal that calls his own ethics into question. 

By Judith Gaines, Globe Correspondent
Sunday, January 13, 2002

t the foot of Mount Everett, on a serene stretch of woods and fields in an isolated corner of southwestern Massachusetts, sits the Berkshire School.  Drive along Undermountain Road in Sheffield, turn up a maple-lined lane and over a little rocky bridge, and there it is: the heart of what must be one of the prettiest campuses in Massachusetts, or anywhere. 

Tastefully proportioned ivy-covered buildings flank manicured lawns. Rustic gray buildings tucked behind leafy copses house almost all of the 64 faculty members. Acres of pristine forest laced with trails rise behind the school. 

A private preparatory school since 1907, embracing female students since 1969, the Berkshire School radiates prosperity and success. The campus has a newly renovated ice-hockey rink, two girls' dormitories under construction, an alumni center slated for completion next year, a new greenhouse and a sugar shack, and an expansive dining hall with skylights and huge floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on piney woods. 

Its 385 students, in grades 9 through 12, come from 36 states and 22 countries. Boys sport blazers and ties; girls wear skirts or slacks. The look of the place is preppy, but with an appealing touch of mountain in it. In this wild and woodsy domain, its 680 compact, well-maintained acres convey a sense of integrity, unity, fortitude, and charm. 

The image is more than superficial. School officials say that in the past five years, applications for admission have shot up, athletic teams are winning more games, alumni involvement has increased, college placement has improved, fund-raising efforts have grossed nearly $50 million. Drug use, once an embarrassment, has declined dramatically. So has alcohol consumption. Seniors come two weeks early every year for a leadership program that helps them take responsibility for enforcing rules of behavior. 

Instructors offer a mix of traditional classes and more unusual fare, including the school's own maple sugaring operation (whose syrup provides a sweet thank you to generous donors), a boat-building program led by a beloved poet, and one of the best observatories in New England. The resolution of its telescope is so fine that students can spot an astronaut outside a space station in orbit. 

Equally compelling are the criteria for selecting the student body. You don't have to be a scholar to come here. You don't even have to be athletically inclined, although that helps. But what the Berkshire School wants most, its admissions officers make plain, are good citizens. It gives the nod to nice, clean-cut kids who do their homework, don't skip class, cause few discipline problems. 

In fact, it is no exaggeration to say that the watchword for the whole place is character. 

At the head of the school sits Paul Christopher, a 53-year-old ethicist from Wakefield and the driving force behind many of the recent changes. Formerly head of philosophy at West Point, New York, he has written a book about ethics. He lectures on morality and character when he's not off fund-raising or teaching powerlifting in the school's well-equipped gym. 

But Christopher's five-year reign has also been marked by something infinitely darker than the winter shadow Mount Everett casts over campus too early in the afternoons. On December 21, 2000, an employee, Laura duPont Smith, complained about sexual abuse by the headmaster himself. Two months later, the school launched a private inquiry. On March 7, Smith filed a complaint with the Massachusetts Commission Against Discrimination, which is investigating her claims. 

This, however, is not a sordid little tale of he said, she said. After Smith made her allegations public, other faculty, students, parents and alumni came forward - in private letters to the trustees, oral testimony to a law firm hired by the school, and written statements to the MCAD - alleging other improprieties by Christopher. Many of these letters and statements - some just a paragraph or two, others several pages long; some signed, some not - were obtained by The Boston Globe and supplemented by 36 direct interviews. They reveal accusations by at least 20 women that Christopher sexually harassed them or subjected them to physical or psychological abuse ranging from verbal come-ons, dirty jokes, and crude and vulgar language to inappropriate touching, French kissing, and blatant efforts to seduce them. 

On this bucolic and isolated campus, a little world within a world, nothing has been quite the same since this controversy erupted. Despite attempts by school officials to stamp out discussion of the scandal after it first arose, it continues to fester in what one observer describes as "a suppressed uproar." 

And this tale is more complex yet, because Smith's role in the conflict is far from transparent. The headmaster with aggrieved and angry critics also has fiercely loyal supporters outraged by the charges against him. Some view Smith as a disgruntled employee who would do anything to get what she wants. Many believe she flirted with Christopher, not the other way around. And now there is another complaint, under investigation by Sheffield police, of foul play. 

A devoted mom who spent much of the past 15 years home-schooling her kids, Smith had come to enjoy these meetings with Christopher, even though his demeanor was not always pleasant. She says that at times he was angry, insulting, and sexually provocative in ways that made her uncomfortable, no question. On one occasion, she says, he swore at her profusely. Another time, she claims, he kissed her and slipped his hand down the back of her pants. Once, she says, he kicked off one shoe and ran his stockinged foot along her inner thigh. 

But she believed she could control his outbursts and improprieties. And she found him interesting, stimulating, smart. 

"He intellectually seduced me, broadened my horizons, challenged me, sent me out of his office with a quest. It was fun, exciting. I enjoyed his energy," she says." And it was nice to be noticed." 

She viewed Christopher as a friend and mentor but also as a troubled guy who was socially inept, lonely, and insecure. "He was like a wounded animal, a workaholic walled up in his office, living through facades," she says. She thought she could help him explore other dimensions of himself and also help the school develop a spiritual component to its education. She describes herself as "a sacred warrior" with deep religious beliefs who hoped she could reform Christopher. So on this day they talked about that, too, and she gave him an antique key, she says, "to symbolize the need to open doors, to find his soul." 

He held it and said no one ever gave him gifts like this, she recalls. When she rose to leave, she says, he reached for her hand. Then, she says, he grabbed her and started kissing her neck and ears and pressing his pelvis into her. He undid some buttons on her blouse "and slobbered on me," she claims. Then, she says, he unzipped his pants and put her hand on his genitals. 

"I said, `It's not going to happen, Paul. I care about you as a friend, but sex is not part of this.' " As she hurried out of the office, she remembers him saying, "We haven't done anything wrong." 

Smith had always thought she could deal with what she regarded as Christopher's come-ons, but this incident scared her. She says she had heard stories of his indiscretions from other women, and in the months that followed she heard more complaints. In one such incident, Smith says, a female student came to her upset by what she considered Christopher's sleazy, undignified behavior at a holiday party in his home. One of the girl's parents confirmed the report to the Globe. 

"Why are we all taking this?" Smith asked herself. She decided she had to do something, and soon. 

In December 2000, she protested to John Alden, a school official designated to handle harassment charges. For two months, nothing happened. Last February, Smith contacted Peter Kellogg, one of the trustees, and the school launched an investigation. Smith also filed her formal complaint with MCAD. As word of the investigations spread, other school employees, students, and alumni began to come forward. What follows is based on their official statements to the MCAD or school investigators, and, in most cases, a confidential interview with the Globe. 

The wife of one faculty member complained that, at a holiday party, "Christopher grabbed me with his hands and forced my body close to his. Then he placed his wide-open mouth over mine and forced his tongue in my mouth." An unsigned statement by another woman describes a trustees' dinner at which Christopher suddenly "kissed me full on the mouth in a very sensual way" and an event at the headmaster's home when, standing by his wife, "I felt his hand move inside the back of my shirt." 

Some women describe behavior that seems more oafish and crude than overtly harassing. One alumna, who has been involved with the school for about 30 years, recalled how Christopher asked her opinion about a campus building. "My predecessor believed you had to have a penis to figure out what to do with this," she says he remarked. Pat Schofield, a concerned mother, described how Christopher approached one of her daughters and some girlfriends exercising in the school gym. "Look at this butt," she says he told them, pointing to himself. "This butt is so hard I could crack walnuts with it." 

"Where does he get his lines - out of a 30-year-old issue of Playboy?" says Elizabeth Chaffee, an alum from Sheffield whose father was a longtime teacher at the school. She says she experienced Christopher's "leering tone" and his habit "of standing too close" to people, but that his comments to her, though inappropriate, were "more silly than threatening." 

But others clearly felt threatened. At least nine former employees - with jobs ranging from clerk to senior administrator - told the Globe they left the Berkshire School because of Christopher's harassment or intimidation. One former administrator related how, after she redecorated her office in a way he didn't like, "he came up behind me and shook me so hard that I felt it in my neck for two days." 

In a signed complaint to the MCAD and to school investigators, supplemented by a detailed written statement to the Globe, a former high-ranking administrator says that at parties "he would often get drunk and grope women faculty, including me." On one occasion, he grabbed her hand and said her pulse "was fluttering as it would when I had just made love." Another time he told her that seeing her exercising in the school's weight room gave him "a constant erection." He repeatedly laid hands on her physically and propositioned her sexually, she claims. When she turned him down, she alleges, "he became vindictive and made my life a living hell." 

A handsome, well-muscled man about 5 feet 8 inches tall, who served in the Army for years and then taught at West Point for 10 more, he describes his style as "blunt." If the charges brought against him were substantiated against someone else, he would not hesitate to remove that person from power, he says. "People who abuse other people should be fired. It's inexcusable." 

Intimate relationships between executives and their subordinates "tend to be corrupt. You think they're attracted to your intelligence and charm, but they're just coming onto you because you're the CEO."  In such cases, he says, the person with the power should set the boundaries. 

A copy of the school's response to the MCAD complaint, obtained by the Globe, makes its position clear: "After a couple of appointments to discuss school-related matters, Ms. Smith became increasingly flirtatious, suggesting that Dr. Christopher explore a relationship with her," it says. When he denied her both sex and a job she wanted, she filed the MCAD complaint, the school says. 

It alleges a different meaning to the old key that Smith gave Christopher.  "When he told her he was not interested, she dropped off an antique key to him, telling him that if he ever became interested, he should leave it in her box and she would know what it meant," it says. 

As proof of Smith's flirtations, the response cites a string of e-mail messages in which she seems to be baiting him - including this one of June 7, which the school says was sent less than two hours after the meeting during which Smith says she was assaulted. Smith claims the assault occurred weeks earlier. 

"Dear Paul: Why does my life revolve around Arts? thanks for taking the time. It was a bit odd, awkward for me. I guess it made a lot more sense when we made the appointment before we knew that the position had been filled. Oh well . . . maybe I'll get a glimpse of you this weekend, I am grateful for what I can get. I guess you'll be busy for a while yet, a lunch date seems remote. I leave on the 17th or 18th of June. BUT i will drive down whenever you think you can make it. I have so much I would like to talk to you about, in a more relaxing way than in your office. Conversations are so exciting with you, because they are multi-leveled and you are always one step ahead. There was only one other person who challenged me like you do. He's dead. He was a French Resistance soldier. Hmmm? Later Alligator, Laura" 

In an e-mail sent June 18, she invited Christopher to visit her at a cabin where her family would be vacationing in New Hampshire and to attend a poetry reading. In a June 25 e-mail, she wrote: "I appreciated your comment that you listen to me. I've always felt that you did. You do it well. . . . I miss the sound of your voice, the pauses between and mostly your smile." 

The school's MCAD response does not directly address allegations from other women. But it notes that on December 19, 2000, not long after the holiday party at which Smith claims she and several students witnessed Christopher "pelvic thrusting" and grabbing women, she sent him this e-mail: 

"I have no ulterior motives that I am hiding from you. It's called openness (or affection) and I am being as open with you as a person can be. You need to trust someone. I do care for you and I want you and this program to succeed. Laura" 

Two days later, Smith made her first formal complaint to a school official. 

Smith counters that these e-mails have been misinterpreted. "I was being friendly, not seductive," she says during an interview in her living room. "I was playing a game, his game. And his game is to use the sex way to get into someone's psyche, put them off balance." But she claims she never wanted to have sex with him, and never did. 

If her e-mails seem suggestive, overly friendly, "it's because I saw both sides of him," she says. "My personality is, I think I can save people. I wanted him to see that he was so much better than how he was behaving. Part of Paul's charm is that he makes you feel he needs you, that you're the only one who understands him. You want to help make him better." 

Smith adds that she was determined to show that she was strong enough to rise above the harassment. "I wasn't going to be the little woman who runs away because he scared me," she says. 

On the crucial question of the chatty e-mail allegedly sent immediately after the assault, Smith says the date of that event has been changed to suit the school's purposes. The assault occurred in April or May, not June, she says. She saw Christopher on June 7 to discuss a job possibility for an art program, and she took the Rev. Art Kaufman with her - hence the opening line in the e-mail about her life revolving around "arts." She says she asked Kaufman to come along because she was afraid to be alone with the man who had recently abused her. 

Kaufman, who was then the school chaplain, supports her account. "We met Christopher at 10:30 that morning," he says his calendar confirms. 

Christopher, in a later phone interview, reiterates his faith in American justice to exonerate him of Smith's allegations. Asked about complaints from other women, he says: "There are no other complaints that involve me. I don't know of any other complaints." 

When the complaints are described to him, he says he is only aware of written complaints and it's hard to respond to the Globe's list without knowing more about each incident. But "when you make tough management decisions, people will be looking for ways to retaliate," he says. And he notes that the trustees have given him "a resounding vote of confidence." 

While a packed audience waits expectantly, about a half-dozen trustees march onto the stage along with Paul Christopher, who carries a copy of the Bible. Davis Anderson, 51, head of the school's 27-member board of trustees, addresses the crowd. 

Acting on a thorough study by an independent law firm hired to investigate the MCAD charges, the trustees have decided that Christopher will remain in his position with their full support, Anderson says. "Appropriate measures," which he does not specify, "have been taken regarding future conduct of all concerned." And the school reaffirms its "absolute commitment to an environment free from discrimination and harassment." 

Then he introduces Christopher, who begins by quoting the biblical epistle of James: "Let not any of you become teachers, my brethren, for you know that we who teach shall be judged with greater strictness. We all make mistakes. If anyone makes no mistakes in what he says, he is a perfect man." 

He says he regrets "any disrepute that I may have caused this institution." Although the trustees have absolved him of sexual harassment and discrimination charges, their investigation revealed other issues "that are of great concern to me," Christopher says. "Frankly, I am embarrassed and disappointed that several people have harbored concerns about my behavior, about which I have been largely unaware." 

People have been offended, he says, "by my language, my dress, my actions, my choice of music, my communication style - both physical contact and proximity to others - and the way I dance." At this point, the audience twitters. 

"It is with complete sincerity and resolve that I make this commitment to modifying certain elements in my behavior that others have found offensive, and I'm asking you to help me. If you see me about to injure myself, be good enough to let me know." 

He goes on: "To those whom I may have offended, I can only offer my heartfelt apologies." And he closes by quoting James again: "My brethren, if anyone among you wanders from the truth, and someone brings him back, let him know that whoever brings back the sinner from the error of his ways will save his soul and cover a multitude of sins." 

As he leaves the podium, the students give him a standing ovation. 

At the back of the auditorium, Laura and Procter Smith were stunned. "That was as lonely a place as I can ever remember standing," recalls Procter, who still teaches at the school. "It was as if we were in the middle of a town square about 1640, and I was doing some sort of penance. I felt like I couldn't move or speak." 

But Laura Smith approached Davis Anderson. Knowing everything that he did, she asked him, "how could you have made that speech?" She says Anderson replied, "You have to understand, we're trying to hurt the least number of people possible." 

An April 23 letter to parents and alumni reiterated the trustees' view that a thorough and independent investigation exonerated Christopher, whom they expected to be vindicated by the MCAD, and that they remained unequivocal in their support of the headmaster. According to the letter, the trustees "unanimously decided that Dr. Christopher and Mr. Alden [the designated sexual harassment officer] will remain in their respective positions." 

But two sources close to the school administration tell the Globe that, privately, the trustees fined Christopher for his behavior. In a phone interview, Christopher declines to comment on whether he was fined. "You'll have to ask to the trustees," he says. 

Lori Charpentier, the 31-year-old director of admissions, echoes this view. The crude and predatorial Christopher others describe "is not the person I know at all, and I know him very well. I've traveled alone with him to Boston, for instance, and never had any problems, nothing but positive experiences. This is a school providing moral foundations and building character. And he's a role model for that." 

When asked what she thinks about all the rumors and complaints, Elena Christopher, the headmaster's petite and gracious wife, replies, "I don't think anything about them at all." She just keeps focused "on all our fabulous students and all the good, really wonderful things that have happened on campus in the last 5 years" since her husband took over. 

She and Christopher, both raised in Wakefield, were high school sweethearts who married 30 years ago, have two grown children, and still "spend all our free time together," Elena says. "We're best friends. Our relationship is as strong as ever." 

Some students don't think much about the conflict one way or the other. Others say they enjoy the headmaster's direct style. Eric Gunderson, all-school president in 1998, is one of many students who had heard stories of Christopher's conduct, but he says: "'Doc' is a spirited speaker. A lot of kids liked his casual demeanor. They thought he was kind of cool." 

Some parents are oblivious or consider the conflict with Smith already resolved. After a string of headmasters whom many considered lax or incompetent - what Anderson described as "a lack of stability in our leadership" - Christopher's strong, take-charge approach has been appreciated. As one father put it, "I'd hate to see Berkshire School without him." 

But to other eyes, the campus has been riven by this controversy.  When Smith's complaint became known, posters went up in hallways.  "Justice believes in Doc and not Mrs. Smith and her selfishness," many of them read. A roadblock was erected at the school entrance to keep out reporters. When Pat Schofield, of nearby Hillsdale, New York, arrived to visit her daughter, she says, "security guards searched my car before letting me through." She has no idea what they thought they might find. A contraband reporter? 

Many felt unclear about what was going on, who was siding with whom, and what it all meant. Some say the dining hall divided into opposing camps, with each side eating together, eyeing the other warily, glaring. Some worried about what was safe to think and what the consequences might be if you said anything unflattering about the headmaster.

When the Elizabeth Freeman Center, an organization specializing in abuse problems, held a public meeting at the Old Parish Church in Sheffield about the case on May 22, it was attended by more than 50 people, including faculty members. School officials asked organizers for an apology. They refused. 

Smith claims that she was denied better jobs and pay owed to her because she refused Christopher's advances and that she was ostracized for complaining about this. After publicly siding with Smith and pleading unsuccessfully for help from outside therapists or conflict negotiators, Kaufman says he was stripped of his power - relieved of his teaching assignments and denied the chaplain's traditional right to sit on the dais at graduation. He resigned in June. 

At least one parent is withdrawing her daughter from the school and has turned down an admissions offer for a second child, according to a letter to Smith that cites concern about the way the school has handled the harassment situation. And according to both a former administrator and a former student body officer, some people have withdrawn donations because of Christopher or said they won't contribute until he leaves. 

Smith left the school's payroll in June (to become a librarian at a Connecticut prep school), and the conflict has been less visible since then. But complaints continue to surface about Christopher's behavior. Faculty, asking not to be named, describe a culture of intimidation in which people are afraid to speak out. When contacted by the Globe this fall, many declined to be interviewed for fear of retaliation - even some who have already left the school. Several still want to send their children there and fear the youngsters will suffer if they complain. 

Some staff remain so angry that they won't talk to one another, and tempers flare in ugly ways. Smith alleges that on November 2, Sarah King, one of the school's language teachers, tried to run her off a road on campus. At the time, King had two students in her car, and Smith was driving with her daughter. Smith filed a complaint, and a magistrate's hearing is scheduled for next month, according to Sheffield Police Chief James McGarry. King, who is contesting the charges, says this is another example of "the antagonistic and delusional behavior" she has come to expect from Smith. Smith says Christopher uses King "to carry out his dirty tricks." 

On November 11, when Kaufman attended a campus play that was open to the public, Christopher, who spotted him in the lobby, yelled that he was trespassing and should get off the campus immediately. Many locals witnessed this incident. 

"What kind of community is this that people who complain are not welcome on campus?" Kaufman asks. Then he answers his own question: "It's this wonderful community that's awful - especially for an academic institution that prides itself on being open and pursuing the truth." 

If Procter Smith III had his way, he would never leave Berkshire School. He attended private school himself and has been working in the prep-school world since 1972. Laura Smith was raised in the region, and in 1983 they both came to the Berkshire School, where, in addition to teaching English, Procter reports the school's sporting achievements. Procter loves his work - in a dynamic department with wonderful colleagues, he says - and cannot imagine any other situation that would suit him so well. 

But since his wife's complaints became public, his professional associations have become guarded. Friends are distant. His social life, he says, "is almost nonexistent." 

He's a shy, meticulous, hard-working man who hates conflict. When he learned what his wife says Christopher did, Procter did nothing - except to support her as best he could. "I'm not a complainer," he says. "I express my aggressions at the bridge table."  The dawning realization that his life at Berkshire School may be ending "is excruciating." 

"Now we know what the `private' in private school means," says one angry parent, who alleges the school has stifled discussion and denied that a problem still exists. 

The Rev. Allison Stokes does not know the Berkshire School staff, but as a resident of nearby Housatonic and founding director of the Women's Interfaith Institute in the Berkshires, she knows the larger community well. She describes that community as "agitated and confused and distressed." Officials at the school "act like this is not our business, as if we have no stake. But their students and faculty shop in this community, worship here, attend events here." 

"They may be tucked away against that mountain, but they're still part of us," she says." 

To feel that they're isolated and alone and free to act out of that is very dangerous."