Blog by 91è����’s First President, William “Bill” Manning with an Afterward by Director of Communications and Marketing, Julia Vallera, December 2025

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Dave Linck was my camping partner for thirteen Grassroots Project winter expeditions, and several other Short Course overnights.

My first experience with “DBL,” as we called him, everyone had initialed nicknames on the vehicle sign-out board, was on a Short Course overnight. I had been bringing students from a Maryland-based high school for a couple of years and was a big supporter of the Academic Short Course in Outdoor Leadership. It was an extraordinary experience for the ninth- and tenth-graders in my class.

The attraction to the rigorous 21 day program was a mix of challenging weather and hands-on work: making backpacks out of hewn white ash, camping without tents, and building shelters with a tarp and sticks in the dead of winter. The Sterling School faculty took this seriously, but never themselves too seriously, and that came through immediately to my students. Although all faculty had other academic responsibilities, every one of them had a hand in the Short Courses.

Dave embodied that spirit perfectly. He had this combination of discipline, good humor, and quiet confidence that told you everything was going to be okay, even when it was snowing sideways and the fire wouldn’t light. After all, this was a guy whose office poster read, “Remember when the air was clean and sex was dirty.”

For a couple of years, I’d drop my students off and drive back to the Eastern Shore, returning two weeks later to pick them up. Then, one winter, I think it was 1972, Steve Wright Short Course Director, convinced me to stay for the first overnight. I ended up camping with Dave on the east side of West Hill, above the Black River Valley. It was exactly seventeen degrees below zero. Dave said, “Don’t worry, it’s not twenty below.” I survived, and I was hooked.

For me, Dave epitomized the professionalism of Sterling’s faculty. He grew up at West Point, earned a master’s degree in biology, loved nature, and had deep experience from his family camp on Raquette Lake in the Adirondacks, leading canoe trips through Quebec’s north country.

He got things done efficiently—no nonsense—but with a keen sense of humor, especially around the campfire. We’d argue about what kind of firewood to use, joking about how our colleague Dave Brown probably had a much better fire going somewhere nearby.

Dave loved to burn junky wood when we first pulled into camp. I preferred to haul in the best bone-dry hard maple I could find. Dave, the ultimate conservationist, figured we should save the good stuff for future expeditions. Eventually, we reached a compromise: junky wood and coffee to start, then slightly better wood and orange Tang slush, and finally a solid cooking and drying out your boot liners fire before bed. That little ritual became part of every trip.

Dave had a habit of whistling as he moved between campfires, checking on students, chatting with faculty, making sure everything was under control. That whistle became a kind of reassurance. If you heard it in the dark, you knew everything was fine.

After dinner, when the student fires were quiet and the stars were out, Dave and I would talk about teaching, about Sterling, about life. Sometimes we’d solve all the world’s problems. Sometimes we’d just sit and watch the fire.

Dave was my confidant and, more often than not, my confidence booster. He had a way of listening that made you feel heard, and a way of answering that made you think harder. He cared deeply about what Sterling stood for and about the people who kept it going.

He hated whining and wasting time. He also had a knack for trimming things down to bare essentials, especially at faculty meetings. I remember those long Sunday night planning sessions we used to have. We took them seriously. On more than one occasion, Dave managed to convince everyone else to wrap up before I even got back from a trip or meeting in Burlington or Boston.

Dave was old school in the best way, a firm handshake, a dry smile, and no interest in overdoing sentiment. I remember one of the last times I saw him, at a Sterling event held at Ross and Diane Morgan’s place. Everyone was hugging, and Dave looked at me and said, “Bill, we don’t have to hug, do we?” That was classic Dave, direct, a little shy about affection, but warm all the same.

He had a huge heart for his family, Jane, Jennifer, and Robert. He talked about them constantly around the campfire, along with stories from Raquette Lake, where he found so much joy and peace. He was generous with me; after all, he let me dance with the best square dancer in the Northeast Kingdom,his wife.

Dave was a teacher in every sense of the word, not just in wildlife biology or outdoor skills, but in how to live with integrity, curiosity, and a sense of humor. He would probably deny it, but he taught by example. He’d probably shake his head at me for going on this long. He’d tell me to keep it short to “get to the point.”

But I’ll say this anyway: Dave Linck was one of the finest colleagues and friends I’ve ever had. A key member of the remarkable team of folks who built the program that built the College. His influence still ripples outward, through the students he inspired, the faculty he strengthened, and the friends who still, from time to time, hear that soft whistle in the woods.

Bill Manning WCM

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Afterward

Bill Manning, who served as 91è����’s first president from 1974 to 1985, made countless contributions to Sterling and the Northeast Kingdom.

In this thoughtful tribute, Bill reflects on his formative years working alongside the late , a longtime Sterling instructor whose teaching in Wildlife Management, Wildlife Techniques, and numerous other courses left a deep imprint on generations of students.

Bill’s reflection underscores the enduring impact of Sterling’s immersive, experiential approach to learning—an approach that has shaped and inspired learners of all ages for 65 years. Memories like his are an essential part of Sterling’s history and legacy.

We are grateful and honored to share Bill’s story, and we warmly welcome others to do the same. If you have a memory or reflection you’d like to contribute, we invite you to contact us at [email protected].