Class of 1899
In default of other items to fill the '99 column in the ALUMNI MAGAZINE, the Secretary has determined to publish from time to time short accounts of old-time incidents, under the heading of "Forgotten Chapters of '99 History," The first one is from the pen of Horace Holmes Sears, B. S., C. E. Others will follow in later issues.
The Secretary was cleaning out some ancient papers the other day, and he ran across a story that has never been published, and in regard to the truth of which some members of the class were very hazy. Some members of the class have the impression that Horace Sears was the man who carried off the football from the campus the night that we met '98. Others have given the credit to George Evans. It appears in a measure that both were right. We have not George's story in full, but, as the Secretary understands it, he -saw Horace running away with the ball, and concluding that he was a sophomore, followed him, and was watching him when he secreted the ball in the hedge, as he tells. He waited for Horace to depart; then carried the ball away to Marm Swett's, and with Peddy Miller's help distributed pieces of it to the class of '99. Horace's account follows: "In that superior manner which only upperclassmen can assume toward freshmen, we of the class of '99 were herded on the southwest corner of the campus and taught to bait the class of '98 with everything epithetical that could arouse the ire of the sophomores. When our patience was about exhausted and the victory seemed won by default, the '98 group appeared around the corner of Reed Hall, and m locked-armed wedge crossed over to the campus.
"I think it was McCornack who called our class forward, and when an interval of about 200 feet separated the contesting classes, kicked the round rubber football high into the air. Being less physically capable of holding back, like a cork on the waves, I was out in front of the 99 croup The ball descended as the two classes clinched. I couldn't help myself, half pushed, partly making a fall upon the ball I grasped it to my waist and hung on. Carried by the impulse (Chuck take notice) here and there, yelling, and squirming to get them off my neck, get them off my legs, and with the slogan NINJiI YNINE every other second, yelped, it was possible to stay with my classmates The clash was terrific. By keeping low, always, sometimes dragged with others on the ground, the fiercest of the fight passed along leaving me doubled up over the ball, scant in wind, and wonderfully puzzled, as in a nightmare, as what to do next.
"Hardly knowing friend from foe, except for the class yells, it seemed the part of discretion to continue doubled up over the ball. Gradually the thickest of the melee passed along, and pushing against others, facing the center of the rushing crowd, I worked slowly toward the outside lines. Then digging in my toes I started on a wild flight, ready and capable of running all night.
"We had started about sunset, and the darkness was my sole help in getting away unnoticed. A few observed me and called out, but the thing was so absurd on the face of it, and my disappearance into the darkness so quick, that few pursued. I had scarcely struck into a good pace when the front door of the Wheelock Hotel loomed up ahead, with the town street just beyond. Swerving to the left across vacant ground, I hurdled the hedge, then in back of the Gymnasium*, dropped to the ground instantly, rolling underneath its protecting shade; for the electric lights gave the passageway here too much light for my safety. I heard no pursuit, only the continued fight on the campus, and the voices of several passers-by in the street alongside.
"Where to go and what to do? The south side of the Gym gave promise of some secrecy, and so I recrossed the hedge and sat down in the shadow of the building, further to recover my wind and nerve. I had tried to squeeze the wind out of the ball;—it was one of these spherical, rubber, prep-school balls; the rush had spilt some of the wind but not all. I was wearing a black jersey, skin-tight, and an old pair of pants which by good fortune had a brass screw-eye in one of the pockets. This was none too good a tool but finally did the trick, making a puncture and flattening the ball. This made a much better package, and I could have carried the carcass to the '99 bunch in Wentworth Hall. Had I only known them then as I do now, it would have been very simple.
"The football from that rush should have been carried to old Wentworth Hall, and our '99 bunch would have held the building against the entire '9B class. Probably the paint on wainscotings and other furnishings might have been slightly damaged had this plan been carried out.
"I rested serenely in the shadow of the old Gym, watching passers-by, hearing the rushing noises gradually die out on the campus. Then "the old primeval instinct (Gabe take note) came over me and I longed for home and the "wall side of Jimmy's bed. The hedge on the east side of the Gym was. much thicker than on the south side. That hedge had been my first protection. What could be more secure, even if so simple a hiding place for the carcass of the football, than this selfsame hedge. From my resting place by the Gym walls, to the hedge, was a very short distance. Waiting the chance when all seemed absolutely quiet, I sneaked quickly to the thickest spot, and waiting again to make sure my motions were not observed, I placed the ball securely in one of the thickest parts of the hedge-top.
"Then with the same secrecy, I withdrew, and started up the street with every assurance that in the morning our '99 quartet would come down early (Jack, Jim, and Dan) and make good '99's claim to the victory.
"Treading on air and early morning dew, Jack, Jim,- Dan, and Bill went chattering, freshman-like, in high glee, to the scene of the hiding place. Of course in the darkness of night I had only approximately noted the location. But in the cool gray dawn of the morning after, there was to be no mirth and laughter; the football carcass was no longer in hiding. It had went!
"I don't recall the exact vocabulary used by Jack; I don't know as I care to (Jack had worked the previous summer in a foundry) ; nor do I remember aught of Jimmy's remarks except their slim-sarcastic, satirical, bull's-eye directness. Dan, however, was more hopeful, and thought undoubtedly a '99 classmate had found the ball.
"Later it developed that at Marm Swett's, Evans had the ball cut up, ready for distribution, and as long as they lasted, the little strips were given out. Having proved up by the quartet and by Evans' admission as to the location of the ball in the hedge, I was given the strips containing the holes which I punctured in the hide, and there they are today in my old home, pinned with the brass screw-eye which was so luckily found.
"Almost twenty years have elapsed since this incident, yet health brings the red blood tingling, and we are ready each day for further action for Dartmouth '99 and all to uphold the honor and dignity of Old Dartmouth. 'Though round the girdled earth they roam, her spell on them remains.'" —Redwood City, Cal., July 4, 1914.
The treasurer had a number of fine letters from members of the class, which he has passed on for the news items that they contained. A particularly characteristic note came from Gerry, commenting on his feeliyg toward Charlie Sturtevant. The Geroulds evidently have a new house, for the address given is 10 Bayard Lane, Princeton, N. J.
Luke Varney took time to write a real two-page letter, in which he throws a few bouquets at the members of the executive committee. Many thanks, Luke! It helps us on our way. In Bob Johnston's letter comes news of what the flood did to Stratton and Company's mill. He says that at one time seven feet of water covered the main floor, and when the water went away, it took all the railroad tracks with it, so that no trains have been able to come near them. However he concludes by say- ing, "But things will improve soon, we hope."
By the way, Bob's letter is written on the letterhead of an unusual organization, "The Circus Fans Association of America." I question if many of our class have known of the existence of this group. It so happens that the Secretary has, for one of its chief officers is "Kae" Knecht of Evansville, one of his old friends. Bob is vice-president of the association, for the eastern states. Every one of the "fans" at some time or another has traveled with a circus and knows its workings intimately.
Old John Ash writes a good letter to accompany his remittance. He comments on the effects of the flood on New England, and offers his sympathy to Vermont friends who are in distress. Incidentally, the papers the other day, in listing concerns in Vermont that had lost heavilv, included Tedo Chase's mill in Passumpsic, where damage was done to a staggering amount.
John comments on business conditions in Oregon. He sells a variety of products, including lime, plaster, cement, roofing, slate shingles, dampers, hearth tile, corner bead, reinforcing, metal lath, septic tanks, face bricks, fence posts, chimney blocks, building blocks, prestile, water troughs, culvert pipe, drain tile, and sewer pipe. If there are Dartmouth men in Oregon who will pay their bills promptly, John would be pleased to do business with them.
In a letter to the Secretary, John tells the interesting story of how he happened to enter Dartmouth. It seems that G. I. Hopkins, for many years submaster of the Manchester High School and afterwards its principal, took an interest in John and tutored him so efficiently that in the fall of '94 he was able to enter New Hampshire. John tells how that fall he fell in with a crowd of Dartmouth men in Manchester, who were celebrating an athletic victory. A great many of them were members of the class of '99. John liked the crowd so well that he made up his mind next fall to enter Dartmouth. Voila tout!
The Ash children are all well and happy. Last June Homer, the eldest, was married to Miss Ethel Harwood. At present Homer is connected with the building department of the Oregon Agricultural College. Ruth Ellen, says John, is now the proprietor of a dressmaking establishment, "specializing in the latest French creations." Mabel is the secretary of the Builders' Supply Company. Alice is in high school. She has been elected editor-in-chief of the high school annual. John, Jr., is also in high school. John, Sr., says that the studies in which he takes the greatest interest are hunting, trapping, fishing, raising rabbits, and farming. Little Martha, in the third grade, gives promise of being the student of the family. John himself is doing so well that he boasts a summer home at Newport.
A Boston classmate recently sent the Secretary the following clipping: "From their summer home at Salter's Point, South Dartmouth, Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Burns of Omaha, Neb., announce the engagement of their daughter, Miss Barbara Burns, to Guilford Stewart, son of Mrs. Ralph A. Stewart of Brookline. Miss Burns is a graduate of Miss Master's School at Dobbs Ferry, N. Y., took special courses at Miss Winsor's School in Boston, and is a member of the Junior League of Omaha. Mr. Stewart prepared at St. Mark's, and is a Harvard man of the class of '27. He played on the varsity football team, and is a member of the A. D. Club, Hasty Pudding, D. K. E., Institute of 1770, the Phoenix S. D., and Stylus clubs."
It will be observed from the above that Buck's undergraduate love of Harvard men and of Dekes has persisted in later years. It seems as though with all the proof-reading that the '99 reports have received, there should not occur the omissions which we find a month or two after each report appears. Two years ago it was Hard wick's name that was omitted from the list, and this year in some unaccountable manner the paragraph devoted to Fred Crolius vanished somewhere between Manchester and Hanover. For the benefit of the class we will state that Fred is still editor of the Blast Furnace and Steel Plant. His home address is Bellevue, Pa., and his business office is 108 Smithfield St., Pittsburgh, Pa. The class had hoped that young Lawrence would be entering Dartmouth this fall, but to date we have not heard from Fred as to why he did not.
It will probably surprise some of the members of the class to know that there are thirty institutions of higher learning within the borders of the state of Ohio. The teachers of sociology in these various colleges and universities have combined to issue a publication known as the Ohio Sociologist, and the editor is no less a personage than Herbert A. Miller. In the last issue certain figures are given which are interesting. It seems that the department of sociology in Ohio State University alone gives forty-seven different courses, which have been elected this year by more than three thousand students.
Just as we go to print comes the news of the death of Franklin R. Eaton, Regional General Manager for the Washburn-Crosby Company of Minneapolis, of the Washington and Baltimore district. Full obituary will appear in the next issue of the Magazine.
Secretary, 88 Lowell St., Manchester, N. H.
*Note for the younger classes: He means Bissell Hall, now the Thayer School building.
