CLASS OF 1919
On June 14 the class of 1919, supposedly shot to pieces by the war, gathered itself together in Hanover. Only half-heartedly called at a very late date, they responded, as they always have, magnificently. The Tenth of the Century was in every way a grand success..
As a very hot sun started to nose-dive down behind Massachusetts Hall, Louis Munro and his lieutenants issued the uniforms —green sweaters and berets for the girls, and for the men white linen coats and knickers, green stockings, a canteen, and a pith helmet—a complete explorer's uniform, entirely suitable for a group of voices going into the desert to clamantis.
This job out of the way, serious preparations for the dance started at once. Each room held a constantly changing group of old friends, exchanging greetings and goodies brought from home. By dinner time all were back ten years at least, remembering first names with confidence and enjoying everyone thoroughly.
Everybody had dinner somewhere I presume, and at nine o'clock the crowd was assembled at the Tri Kap house, where the dancing proper—and improper—got under way. Here, thanks to Max and Helen Norton and Cotty Larmon, who arranged the whole thing, everybody met everybody and his wife. For the first time it became apparent how many we were—about one hundred men and half that many wives. From that moment on we were just one good gang on a peerade.
The dance was followed by miscellaneous adventures far, far into the night, and everyone who was able appeared at breakfast with at least one good story to tell.
On Saturday the class got athletic, and set out to show the world that we still retain at least some of the stuff that made us famous in undergraduate days. Captain Martin led his squad out to the campus to meet the '24 class at baseball. As they trotted on the field mid thundering cheers, his squad consisted of a first team and two teams of anxious substitutes. At this point something happened, and he couldn't get enough for an infield. The cause of this wholesale desertion was apparent, as Stan Lyon was discovered behind the crowd warming up with his fast one. Spider, calling on that quick wit which made him the fastest talking third-baseman the College has ever had, at once informed '24 that the game was to be played with an indoor baseball solely, because our centerfielder had brought his son's glove instead of his own and might sting his hand if obliged to catch a liner. The team morale thus quickly and permanently restored, the game started with considerable spirit.
The seventh inning found the score tied and the bases full. Obviously the situation called for a pinch hitter. No one on the bench seemed to be in condition to handle such a ticklish job. Suddenly the problem solved itself. Guy Cogswell's son, aged three, strode to the plate, bat in hand, and glowered at the pitcher in the true Cogswell manner. The pitch came over, he swung, and unlike his father of ten years ago, he caught one squarely on the nose, and scored the winning run as the stands went wild. At this point Spider, our brainy leader, used his head again, and announced that the game had been scheduled for only seven innings, gave the losers a cheer and led the team to the showers. And so a glorious victory of brawn and brain was ours.
At one o'clock those of the class who had not figured on three hours for exploring the gullies, underbrush, and forest-covered ravines of the Hanover golf course appeared at the class meeting. Bill McCarter opened the meeting, and called at once for nominations for a temporary chairman. Ax Warden was elected, and the meeting got down to business at once. It started off with a long discussion as to what sort of organization would best serve the class. The final decision was to elect a president, vice-president, and secretary-treasurer, and to give them all the power they needed to build up an effective class organization. The following men were elected: president, Spider Martin; vice-president, Phil Bird; secretary-treasurer, Jim Davis.
Shortly after luncheon Helen Norton gathered the ladies under her wing, and led them away to the quiet shelter of the Green Lantern Tea Room for an afternoon of bridge, followed by what was reported as a delicious supper. This spirited battle over, they returned to Webster Hall, where the Players produced "Double Trouble," introducing for the girls not a few merry quips about the glorious 1919 class (long may she wave).
While the girls were talking things over seriously, misdealing, and bidding out of turn, the boys were preparing with deep concentration for the class dinner, striving wholeheartedly to revive the spirit and remove that deep sense of humility implanted in their souls by that several acres of young Alps which the college so naively calls its golf course. This job was done admirably, and nothing even remotely resembling an inferiority complex was noticed at the dinner.
At 7:45, beneath a glorious crimson twilight, the class marched to Memorial Field, and stood uncovered for a moment of silent prayer beside the names of those men who died in the war to the everlasting honor of Dartmouth and the class of 1919.
With a cheer for almost everyone and all the good old songs, we marched from Memorial Field to the grill in the Commons, where dinner was served and eaten with a gusto weird and unusual. Dinner done to everyone's satisfaction, we gathered informally about the senior fence, and under John Chipan's able direction sang with splendid abandon all the old songs until the show let out and the band concert began.
All Sunday morning cars were leaving every few moments for the Bradford Inn, at Bradford, Vt. By noon everybody was there and ready for food in quantity. The sleightof-hand committee suddenly and mysteriously produced large wash-boilers full of orangeade, and soon one hundred and fifty appetites were pouncing upon one hundred and fifty very good dinners. After dinner Johnny Chipman did things to the Inn piano, Freddie Ives and Mrs. Red Coleman did things to some of Freddy's old songs, and the manager looked worried as the regular guests started checking out for quieter parts.
Behind the Inn lies a spacious lawn, and beyond a golf course. One group, led by Norm Jeavons, the playboy of Cleveland, did antics on the lawn. The less athletic attempted golf with entirely disastrous results. Everybody acted like a bunch of kids on a picnic, which was of course exactly as it should have been.
Sunday night a rather weary and worn class settled down around the dorm yard, and sang and kidded with complete content, feeling a little nearer their age, but still doing pretty well and having a swell time.
Monday those of the class who could delay breakfast that long gathered on the steps of Dartmouth for our class picture. These pictures, which are good and which will be a great laugh to the grandchildren some day, may be had by sending your check for $1.25 and address to Max Norton, Hanover, N. H. I think you'll all want one, whether you were there or not.
The parade to the ball game started at 10 o'clock sharp, and the class marched in uniform and with a great showing to the field, where Dartmouth beat Cornell in a close, well-played game by the score of 1 to 0. After the game people started for home, only a few staying over until Tuesday. I'm sure all those who came had the best time they have had since they were youngsters, and I'm sure they will all be back in 1934 for the Fifteenth. The class has pulled itself together, and it's going to get together more and more strongly from now on.
The class owes a vote of thanks to Louis Munro, Phil Bird, John Chipman, Bill Cunningham, Paul Clements, Jim Davis, Mose Forrest, Art Havlin, Rock Hayes, Spider Martin, Max Norton, and Rabbi Raible, the committee who worked so hard to make the Tenth of the Century the howling success that it turned out to be. We also owe a heartfelt vote of thanks to Helen Norton, who did so much to make the girls enjoy the party and think kindly of Dartmouth reunions.
The official roll call shows present and for a moment at least accounted for: Adams, F. Ray, Ashley, Heber, Babcock, Carl A., Batchelder, W. C., Bingham, George H., Bird, Philip, Buckley, James, Buttenwieser, Clarence, Cannell, Jack, Caswell, Chet, Chadwell, H. M., Chipman, JohnrII., Clark, John H., Clay, Charles, Clements, Champ, Cogswell, Guy, Cole, Donald, Colwell, Red, Collins, C. W., Crosby, Alden P., Crumb, Ray, Cunningham, Bill, Curran, H. G., Jr., Daley, F. M., Davis, J. C., Demond, C. W., Dodd, Spence, Dudensing, R., Ewart, Samuel D., Featherston, D. F., Felton, Lester, Fiske, E. W., Jr., French, Bob, Gale, Chet, Goodnow, R. W., Googins, A. H., Greeley, Bri, Green, David, Haerle, Louis, Hall, Harry, Halloran, Paul, Hapgood, T. L., Harris, Harold C., Havlin, Arthur, Hayes, Rock, Hawkins, Murray, Hinds, Ray, Hodgkins, N. L„ Holley, H. 0., Hooven, W. A., Huntington, Ken, Ives, Freddie, Jeavons, Norm, Jewett, James, Johnson, Ken, Larmon, Russell R., Legg, Ray, Lewis, Bob, Martin, E. E., Mauk, Stan, Meader, Gordon, Mc- Carter, William H., McCleery, F. M., Mc- Craw, N. S., McCrillis, John, McQuiston, Dale, Mullen, H. G., Munro, Louis, Murphy, J. L., Murray, John, Nichols, H. E., Norton, Max A., Pelletier, Jim, Proctor, Robert, Rand, George, Raible, Ray, Rayner, G. Alan, Rector, L. H., Rice, K. H., Ross, Jack, Salmon, D. C., Sandoe, N. M., Siegbert, Henry, Stecher, R. M., Stein, S. G., Sterling, Norman, Stewart, A. R., Sullivan, Dennis, Sullivan, D. T., Townsend, Edward, Warden. Axel, Welsh, R. B„ White, W. A., Jr., Wilson, James.
Phil Bird, who is generally plenty attentive to the ladies, compiled this list, and seems to have left the ladies off entirely. We regret this, for there were about fifty present, and a fine bunch of girls they were.
HIGHLIGHTS OF THE TENTH
Ray Crumb, mayor of Bristol, Conn., producing before an ever-increasing audience "The Ballad of Chambers Street" and "The Auction of the Watch," with Jock Murray in the star role.
Paul Clements driving golf ball after golf ball into the Bradford waterfalls, while Phil Bird gained ten pounds laughing, not knowing they were his golf balls.
Norm Jeavons at the picnic helping Ruth Havlin to turn her car around, directing her with great care through packing cases and over boulders.
The vigilance committee headed by Eddie Fiske sitting up all through the long night in order to demand, "Quiet Please" in no uncertain terms at intervals of five minutes or less.
Ted Townsend regretting having come via Montreal and distributing endlessly messages from Freddie McCrea.
Red McCleery starting out with golf clubs at 4 A.M. to play the golf course on horseback.
Batch and Harriet Batchelder, Doris Ross, Mary Davis, Robin Cogswell, and several nondescript alumni singing "The Fireman's Band," 2046 times from Phil's to Topliff.
Cottie Larmon topping a drive and offering the weak alibi that Jack Ross, who carried a large bell, rang it,every time he shot.
Jim Buckley asking every one he saw, "How do you look?" and being requested repeatedly to run just one more mile—off that way.
Spider Martin doing very well for the Alumni Fund with an inexhaustible supply of blank checks.
John and Mildred Chipman playing host to the world's loudest glee club till "the sun was slowly rising."
Mrs. Red, Coleman and Freddie Ives atop the Bradford Inn piano singing "Syn-co-pating Man."
Champ Clements doing a clog on the same while Chet Gale slapped a slightly worried manager on the back, assuring him that everything was all right.
Rock Hayes being voted still the best looking man in the class at several private meetings of the wives.
Jimmy Wilson and Red McCleery looking after all wives who had temporarily mislaid their husbands.
The fathers' club meeting in the showers at 7.30 A.M. as usual, regardless of what had gone on the night before.
Bill Cunningham looking very prosperous and successful in a new brown suit and a big cigar to match.
Lou Rector giving a four-day imitation of Ed Wynn, only much louder and funnier.
The departing Stew Russell speeded—and how—by George Rand, Norm Jeavons, and Red Murphy.
Head Coach Jack Cannell sneaking into town and out again in his usual quiet way, unobserved by most of us.
Bob Proctor drinking milk every few minutes, being as usual a jump ahead of the class with a bad stomach before Commencement.
Doctors Stecher, Featherston, White, and Murray giving Bob a thorough examination at the picnic, the consultation resulting in the verdict "Come back next Thursday."
Bill White telling the world and its neighbors the trouble with Commencement is that there are too damn many alumni.
At the oasis. The men in uniform are of the nineteen caravan. Tne dark object in the foreground is one of the camels taking on a month's supply of liquid.
Jim "Wilson and Red MeCleery at their official duty. The wives: Doris Ross, Mildred Chipman, and Marion White.
Left, the class water boy and the pr—pardon us—the honorable class president. He is passing us something which we suspect is the soiled end of the stick.
Secretary,
