CLASS OF 1918
The old standby, "And a good time was had by all," is as good a phrase as can be found in describing the Furious Fifth which the 1918 Pirate Ship has just weathered so successfully. All credit for engineering this feat belongs to F. J. Clahane and his able mates of the reunion committee, who burned much midnight oil and labored months in preparation for the deed.
Aftermaths are always productive of a flock of figures, and therefore in order not to disappoint we delve into statistics just once to announce that the roster of Eighteeners able to make the grade to Hanover to attend the Furious Fifth numbered 84 and a complement of an even dozen good wives. Not a very large crew to be sure, and yet a fair enough showing for the fifth year out, when our budding lawyers, M.D.'s, and financiers are trying to break into the headlines and find it most difficult to get away from respective jobs.
In chronicling this now historic period in the life of the class, it is only! natural to say that the opening of the reunion was auspicious. And so it was. The hand-shaking event took place Friday evening in the Little Theatre, where the girls successfully entertained those inclined to the Terpsichorean. Being "the event" of the evening, it attracted numerous recruits from the cohorts of '20 and the other classes, whose commanders were at a loss to account for the depletion in their forces at headquarters.
On Saturday morning our 18'ers came into their rightful heritage with the issuance of orange and white pirate togs, garnished with a bloody sash and an equally ferocious bandanna as headgear; and not to forget the ladies, who blossomed forth as embryo Carmens. These uniforms were a knockout, and far overshadowed those of any other crew on the campus. Being thus fittingly adorned, the buccaneers promptly vented their piratical fury upon the 1920 convicts in a tilt on the diamond. It goes without saying that the pirates won,—the score is of no account. This bloody deed having been accomplished, a siesta for the afternoon was declared.
It was not until that evening that events properly assumed the furious stage. This was at the memorable class dinner in the Commons. An account of the proceedings cannot be divulged to the uninitiated, except to say that all advance instructions were followed explicitly by all pirates. Even the girls were taboo, and were shipped off to be tucked away in some quiet nook in Webster Hall. During the dining ( ?) Vice-President Hood wielded the gavel, and despite the protests of his august, counselors insisted upon a class meeting. The result was another misdeal, in which some Eighteeners decided that F. W. Cassebeer should be elected the next secretary to take a fling at the much traveled portfolio.
The dinner having been unusually heavy, someone suggested that the class needed more fresh air and a larger arena to conduct their exercise. So the night's festivities were concluded with a circus in the big tent on the campus. This was by all odds the star event of the Commencement, and was put on for the benefit of distinguished visitors at the Hanover Inn. Chief Pirate Christgau was ringmaster, and before a capacity house proceeded to put on a list of hair-raisers, in which all our leading pirates including Tom Bryant, Ernie Earley, Curt Tripp, Tom Proctor, Dick Cooley, Herm Whitmore, and Eddie Felt participated. Roman chariot races and Mexican bullfights couldn't hold a candle against those put on by our buccaneers.
All prognostications were upset when on Sunday, the day of sleep, all hands were on deck shortly before sunrise ready for a 30-mile automobile jaunt across country to Camp Wallula, a boys' camp run by B. A. Hoban '12 at Twin Lakes near New London, N. H. At this magnificent spot Bud Hoban allowed our boys and girls complete freedom of his camp. Here Sunday leisure found expression in swimming, canoeing, dancing, or mostly just plain loafing in wonderful surroundings.
Upon return to Hanover Sunday night, most pious Eighteeners attended the sacred concert at the Nugget. As far as we could determine it was sacred only to Henry's peanuts,—but then, they were for self-defense. The grand and glorious Furious Fifth was officially brought to a close Monday with a parade to the ball game at Memorial Field, in which our pirates led the captured '20 convicts in lockstep procession.
Wives at an official 1918 function were a distinct novelty. Everything was 0.K., however, as our roughnecks seem to have been able to find their bearings in the presence of the ladies after five years of training. The kiddies were not yet in evidence, but we'll look for them at the Tenth, when we expect to have on public exhibition the winner of that ton of coal.
The star performer of the 1918 circus, Tom Bryant, sustained a sprained ankle in the course of a bullfight, and was taken to the Mary Hitchcock Hospital for a couple of days visit among the nurses. Tom is a bit hazy as to what happened that night, but says he hopes the others had as good a time as he did.
In the self-same circus Tom Proctor forgot what he was doing in the pole-climbing contest and down comes Tom, electric light and all. This was a signal for a preoccupied New Hampshire motorist to run into another car calmly parked near the tent.
Hon. S. B. Jones, claiming exemption on account of business, sent Mrs. Jones as his official representative to the reunion. We believe she also had secret instructions to see to it that Treasurer Earley kept to the straight and narrow.
Fat Sheldon's vehicle of locomotion evidently did not take kindly to the country trails to Twin Lakes. It is whispered that the boss of Rupert, Vt., had to call upon his wife in a mechanical emergency en route because he couldn't quite make the distance between the running board and old mother earth himself.
Bud Hoban deserves a vote of thanks for letting the class have free run of his camp. We think it is the best spot that could possibly have been selected for a picnic, and that Bud Hoban has undoubtedly rallied to himself a boosters club for his camp in all of the 18ers who were able to attend the picnic. It certainly is a great place to recommend to any youngster one may happen to know.
Eighteen's own private faithful band lost its sense of direction on the way to Camp Wallula, but found its bearings in time to provide some jazz later in the afternoon.
A group photograph of reuning 18-ers can be had for $1 from the White Studio, Hanover.
Speaking of pictures, the Secretary wants all those who took snapshots at reunion to send him their negatives. It is planned to make a selection of those received, and offer a representative set of reunion prints to any one in the class at a nominal price. Further announcements regarding this will be made later.
Al Sibbernsen and Doc Woodruff were among the Westerners to migrate East for the Furious Fifth. New Yorkers were scarce, and too many of them entered pleas of business.
Al Rice is another one of our prospering bond merchants, who is selling his wares in the Metropolitan District.
After hibernating in Baltimore, Al Gottschaldt again seeks the warmer climes and is back at Atlanta, Georgia. While at Baltimore he came across Bud Hoban, and thus managed to swing the 1918 picnic to Twin Lakes.
Don't forget those negatives of the boys and wife taken at the Furious Fifth. Send them in now to F. W. Cassebeer, 953 Madison Avenue, New York city.
