CLASS OF 1918
By this time probably many Eighteeners will have heard of the sad news of the death of A 1 Johnson, who succumbed to cancer on the afternoon of May 4 after a fight lasting almost a year. To the many whose rare privilege it was to know this generous, loving soul there will be a lasting emptiness in recurrent memories of Hanover. For A 1 Johnson embodied those qualities which make friends and hold friends. He had that spontaneous outpouring of unquestioning fellowship which accepts others on their own valuation. He had a rare and tolerant outlook on life, and a mind remarkable for its edge. He was, perhaps, more the ideal all-round man than any other in the class. To know A 1 was to love him. It is almost painfully impossible to realize that his infectious laugh and ready understanding are no more in a world sadly lacking in these attributes"—(Stan Jones)
It is also our sad duty to chronicle the death of another 'lBer, Paul S. Liscord, who died quite unexpectedly on April 9 from a ruptured appendix, which was thought to have burst about three days before he passed away. "This sudden bereavement is certainly a terrible shock to his loved ones, especially so because of his unusual personality, fine character, and excellent prospects, which seemed to make him more and more an indispensable part of those lives with which he came in contact. Dartmouth has lost a most worthy son. He was ever loyal and showed his love for Dartmouth as well as thoughtfulness by taking out insurance on his own life for the education of his son at Dartmouth."—(E. S. Clark)
Another ghastly happening is that which befell Albert Street several weeks ago when his motor cruiser exploded in New Haven bay. The explosion severely burnt Street and caused such fatal injuries to his wife that she died on the day of the accident. Two guests on board the boat at the time escaped with lesser hurts. A 1 himself was in a critical condition for a few days, but is now well on the way to recovery after some painful weeks in the New Haven hospital. It appears that the explosion as due to a spark from the ignition or starter setting off a combustible mixture of gasoline and air below the deck of the cruiser,—one of several similar incidents which have occurred this summer where engines of motor boats are •in a confined space.
We have it on good authority that the Messrs. Ross and McElwain—in case you have noted the Martha Washington Hotel flag at halfmast—have moved out to Hempstead, L. 1., for the summer months. Local Hempstead girls are all of a twitter, and merchants report an unprecedented rush on their ribbon and finery counters. Andy is a little disgruntled because the Wart got by with a halffare commutation ticket, even after the suspicious agent looked out to see if he was not walking up to the window on his knees.
Our all-seeing New York heeler also reports that Louie Huntoon swooped into town some weeks ago, displayed his ping-pong medals won in Providence, and announced that he was ready to give lessons to local racquet-wielders. Earley, the suave, guided him up to his arena, called in Blimp Morey, (who is ranked far, far down in the local list) and the fight was on. According to press reports, the big Tubeand-Cap Man from Providence showed little beyond enthusiasm and a rudimentary knowledge of the game. When the totals were chalked up, it was discovered that the best he had done was to force Morey (an inept, bungling tyro, at best) to one deuce set. It looks as though the first ten in the local rankings could continue to play under wraps.
Woody Woodruff was recently observed oscillating about the lobby of the New York Club, having come from wide open spaces where hats are hats, and men talk through 'em. He looked the same as in the good old days when he used to sleep in that green sweater six months out of the year.
Our ambassador of commerce, Don Bliss, was recently seen in his more native land on sabbatical leave, or something of the sort, from the domains of Marco Polo. He is particularly fond of regaling his friends with stories of his 19 odd servants who were at his beck and call when he lived in India. Among these there is some such absurd tale as that of a car cleaner whose duty it was to ride on the running board of the flivver and to flick the dust spots off the old bus whenever it came to a stop. Of all the places he has been stationed in the Orient, Don says he likes the settlement of Batavia on the island of Java by far the best. He claims that the country is magnificent, affords every possible advantage, and he is anxious to be back in Java again.
For some time we have had an interesting letter from Mel Southwick who represents the Standard Oil Company in Hankow, China. He says that his daughter, Eleanor, was born on January 8, 1927, just before the Hankow riots last winter. He writes that his wife and child were forced to leave the hospital and seek refuge on one of the Socony boats. To quote him—"and the old man was pretty busy during the following six weeks playing nurse, doctor, washman (yes, Chinese laundries are not just for foreign consumption as is chop suey, but since M. Borodin's arrival flatirons have been more hot than smooth), and finally getting the family off from Shanghai for safety in Westchester County. That's about all that has happened to me during the last two months." Mrs. Southwick and child had the distinction of being the first refugees from China to reach New York this spring.
Secretary, , 953 Madison Avenue, New York
1918(1928)is THAT ME?
