Early Hampton Moser is a legend — to me, anyhow. He was principal of Wakelon School during my eleven years of elementary and high school study, and I was in awe of the man from the day I enrolled until I graduated in the spring of 1940. I recall his stern look much better than his smile, which I seldom saw. Mr. Moser (many parents called him “Professor Moser”) had few disciplinary problems, because every student knew that behind the door to the storage room beside his office was a 2-foot paddle and Mr. Moser was willing to use it. Had a parent objected to this discipline being used on a son, I think Mr. Moser was as willing to give the parent a similar dose of medicine.

I enjoyed not wearing a shirt whenever the weather permitted. Late one fall, a group of us were standing in front of the elementary building (today’s town hall) when Mr. Moser drove by. “Barrie,” he called. He knew every student in Wakelon School by name. “I’ll go without my undershirt as long as you go without your shirt every afternoon.” It was a challenge I could not resist. It was late November before I stopped shedding my shirt as soon as I was home from school. I am sure I won the bet, but it would take a better man than me to question Mr. Moser about whether he was wearing an undershirt.

I was ordered to Mr. Moser’s office only once in eleven years of schooling. It was recess of a frigid day in January, and a noisy group had ignored Mr. Moser’s orders not to slide across the ice in the pine grove that grew in front of the high school building. There must have been safety in numbers, because, after taking the paddle from behind the door, Mr. Moser counted how many rears he would have to paddle, had second thoughts, and sent us to our rooms after threatening us with punishment worse than sin if we went on that ice again.

Mr. Moser loved to teach just as much as he enjoyed being principal. He managed most years to teach classes in English and math, and he was marvelous in both areas. I have clear memories of Shakespeare’s writings, and even today I can quote passages we were required to memorize.

Only once did I see Mr. Moser speechless. Each week, all but the first three grades gathered in the school auditorium for “chapel,” during which we heard a short motivational talk by Mr. Moser and built school spirit by following the cute cheerleaders as they gyrated on the stage, leading us in cheers and songs.

Our principal was in the midst of one of his important messages, and Allie Boy Pippin also was engaged in telling some wild tale to the kid sitting next to him. Mr. Moser stopped his speech. “Allie Boy Pippin!” he said. “If you can tell me one word of what I have said, I will buy you a new bicycle.” Allie Boy (his name really was Allen III) stood and recited the exact words of the last five minutes of Mr. Moser’s speech. Students stood and cheered, but, alas! Allie Boy never received the new bicycle. It probably was the only time I knew Mr. Moser not to be true to his word.

Mr. Moser loved sports, and Wakelon had good athletic teams as long as he was principal. For one or two years, Wakelon’s teams were reinforced with imports from Smithfield and other towns who were given rooms in the dormitory in return for firing the big boiler that heated the building. I remember two of the imports: Grip Daughtry and Curly Wallace. That was in the days when Jimmy Gerow coached the boys’ teams and directed the band. He was highly successful in both endeavors, as well as being an excellent teacher. It is doubtful that the action had Central Office approval, but each year when the World Series was in progress, Mr. Moser let school out early so everyone had an opportunity to listen to game broadcasts. The gentleman also was consistently punctual. The big bell in the copula of the elementary building rang exactly on time each morning to warn that classes soon would begin, and 15 minutes later our “last bell” rang when all students were to be in their seats ready for the day’s work. Favored students were permitted to pull on the chain that rang the bell.

Some years later, following World War II, I returned home from military service and joined the Zebulon Rotary Club. It is a Rotary custom for members to use first names only at the club meetings. I was in the club for a year before I could manage to call the former principal by his first name.

His passion for punctuality also endured. Rotary meetings, by custom, should last no longer than an hour.

Many an evening, I heard Early Moser caution the club president that 6:30 had arrived and it was time to ring the bell and begin the meeting. The presidents, many of whom had gone to school under Mr. Moser, were quick to comply. Also, many a time, I remember Mr. Moser checking his watch and noting it was 7:30. Pushing his chair from the table, he would leave the meeting. It was a very obvious message that, to Mr. Moser anyhow, time was up and the meeting was adjourned.

Folks in Wendell knew Mr. Moser well. After his retirement from the public school system, the Wendell Tobacco Board of Trade employed him as executive director. He was practically a one-person staff, responsible for everything including advertising the Wendell tobacco market.

I was in the printing business at the time, and several times each selling season Mr. Moser called me to contract for advertising material. He would give me some brief notes, a quick description of what he had in mind, and then direct me to produce a masterpiece. I felt just as I had 15 years earlier when I was a student at Wakelon. I would break my back to give Mr. Moser what he wanted, because I still had visions of that big paddle which I bet was parked behind the door of his Wendell office.

Don’t take my word for the fact that Early Hampton Moser continues to be a true legend. Ask any survivors who were his students. Their stories probably are much better than mine. On May 13, 2009, at 12:32 AM, Brian High wrote: