Time Capsules Link Our Past, Present, and Future

On a cool, overcast day in April 1925, Hopkins alumni and local New Haven dignitaries, including Mayor David E. FitzGerald, gathered to mark a defining moment in the history of Hopkins School: the laying of the cornerstone for Baldwin Hall, its first building on a newly settled campus at Forest Road and Knollwood Drive. One hundred years later, this time under a clear and sunny sky, the 21st-century Hopkins community stood in the exact same spot to uncover a historic time capsule from the cornerstone, commemorating 100 years on campus. 

These two celebrations served as a testament to Hopkins School’s enduring legacy as a hub for “the breeding up of hopeful youths.”

At the beginning of the 20th century, Hopkins Grammar School was experiencing growing pains. The School narrowly survived financial and enrollment challenges, most notably in 1911, when it almost came to a close. By 1925, however, it was beginning to reestablish itself with renewed purpose.

The growing trend of Country Day Schools in America inspired George Lovell, then the Head of Hopkins Grammar School, to advocate for a move to a campus. Prior to the move, Hopkins was located in downtown New Haven, and according to School Archivist Thom Peters, likely would not have endured without Lovell’s foresight to embrace the Country Day School model.

“Hopkins had become a tutoring school, and Lovell knew that it was not going to be good for the long-term viability of the School,” explained Peters. “He persuaded the [Committee of] Trustees that this was the direction the School ought to go.”

With the generous support of alumnus Simeon Baldwin, a former Governor of Connecticut (1911–1915) and a long-time trustee, the decision was made to move the all-boys college preparatory school to the site of Edgewood Farm, a piece of land formerly owned by 19th-century writer and landscape architect Donald Grant Mitchell. The farm on a hill soon became home to Hopkins School.

Preservation of Legacy

On Friday, April 24, 1925, hours before the commencement of construction of Baldwin Hall, the Board of Trustees met at Simeon Baldwin’s house to assemble contents for the time capsule. Led by Trustee Chair Henry Farnam, a Yale economics professor, the time capsule appears to have been a conscious effort to honor and preserve Hopkins' long history.

“Moving onto campus was a huge move. It represented a big change for the direction of the School, and so they wanted to mark it with something appropriate,” said Peters. “Particularly in 1925, they were very conscious of how old the School was. Maybe as a means of reminding folks that we are a very old school, they decided to put this in the foundation of the new building.”

With its contents carefully assembled, the time capsule was then sealed with solder and laid into the granite block cornerstone, resting between stone and brick
for a century. 

Exactly 100 years later, on Thursday, April 24, 2025, 1920s-era music played softly as the 21st-century Hopkins community gathered around the steps of Baldwin for a Time Capsule Reveal Ceremony, a moment made possible by the meticulous work that had taken place
just the day before.

Stonemason Sean Cox and his team spent eight hours carefully extracting the capsule from the massive granite block, using traditional hammer and chisel techniques. 

“It’s been an interesting few days here,” Cox said to the audience. “Lo and behold, we’ve found what we were looking for.” 

With the hard work completed, the community looked on with anticipation as student historians Theo Friedman ’25 and Elona S. ’26 removed the contents from the box. 

The items were meant to leave behind a memento of New Haven’s civic and cultural life in the Roaring Twenties. Contents included, among others, a Hopkins course guide from 1925; a city newspaper; a telephone almanac; The Critic, Hopkins’ literary magazine of the time; a farm history book by Donald Grant Mitchell himself recounting the land’s past before it became part of the Hopkins campus; and fundraising literature from the School’s early campaign for Baldwin Hall.

Reflecting on why the 1925 Board of Trustees chose these particular items, Peters said, “It was the same sort of thinking we engage in today—wondering what would tell our story without us being able to talk to them. What objects would help us do that?”

Head of School Matt Glendinning closed the celebration with a look to the near future, informing the community of a new time capsule that would soon be buried in conjunction with the opening of the School’s new Academic and Performing Arts Center (APAC). The capsule will be opened by the Class of 2025 on the occasion of their 50th reunion.

 

On Tuesday, May 27, the Class of 2025 buried their own time capsule outside of APAC to commemorate the new building and celebrate 100 years on campus. 

The ceremony featured remarks from Glendinning, Peters, and Student Council president Alexander Skula ’25. Skula read aloud a heartfelt letter addressed directly to his future self and classmates. 

“Hello, us,” he began. “As you gather to open this time capsule at what must be your 50th reunion, we hope this letter finds you well, hopefully still mobile, and definitely wiser than we are now.” His reflections touched on personal milestones in present times, like college decisions and AP exams, as well as the broader, more complicated societal changes yet to come.

Upon reflecting on burying the time capsule, Skula expressed a sense of the profound nature of the task, noting how much time will have passed and how different the world will be when the capsule is opened.

“It’s hard to describe the feeling of putting this away for 50 years. On one hand it feels super simple. We’re throwing a bunch of random stuff in there and then nobody’s going to think about it for 50 years. But at the same time, it’s like a piece of us as a class and as a school that's going to feel so foreign in 50 years,” he said. “Thinking about all the possibilities that the future could bring that we can’t even imagine, it provokes deep thoughts among all of us.” 

Inside the capsule lies an eclectic array of items that vividly portray the Class of 2025’s world. Among them are a campus map, theater programs from Lovell Hall’s final performance (Mamma Mia!) and APAC’s debut show (Cabaret), a Hopkins goat plushie, the 2025 Yearbook, and a t-shirt signed by Glendinning and Skula. More quirky additions include grocery receipts, Billboard’s Top 25 Songs of 2024, a lone AirPod, and an AI-generated “fit check” showcasing student fashion of today. The capsule also contains the Class of 2025’s predictions and pressing questions for the future, such as “Did democracy survive?”, “Do polar bears still exist?”, and “Did the Arizona Cardinals ever win a Super Bowl?”

Ultimately, these time capsules, stretching across a century, are far more than a collection of objects; they are a tangible representation of a community’s shared experiences and aspirations.