CLASS OF 1929
That first hand we dealt in our new game of chance was such a fortunate one that we are able to turn this letter over to those excellent young bucks, Darling, Rising, Rogers, Pierce, Hazard, and Stickler whose reconnoiterings are herein reported, with much satisfaction, and gratitude to them. We still expect those who have not yet sent their messages back to the tribal tepee to do so before the next letter is made up. And as the next number of the MAGAZINE will not be out until next fall we shall not at this time deal out a second hand, but shall notify the members of the next scouting party by letter sometime during the coming summer.
This is a fairly busy time over on the law school side of Harvard Square, but we kissed all that goodbye last Friday noon (May 1) and drove up to Hanover to spend a very enjoyable twenty-four hours attending the secretaries' meetings as guest of the College. A trip like that quite makes up for some of the less pleasant features of this scribal post. Dear Bill: As a pinch-hitter, I am just poor enough to let three "in the glove" slide right by. Class news is something I lack. . . .
Here are the few facts I have. "Yike" Burgess, "Gerry" Updyke, and Ralph Moulton have been bent over drafting boards for the American Bridge Co. at Ambridge, Pa. As far as I could learn, Tom White loafed all last summer, then went to South America to loaf some more. Possibly he's working hard, though that's difficult to believe. He's on some irrigation project down there.
Have seen "Dick" Johnson two or three times recently. Believe he's still with his father on Devonshire St. "Brud" Woodman went back to second year Tuck after working with Swift and Cos. a year. . . .
Have been with the General Fireproofing Cos. since June. Steel office equipment, and positively the best. Tossed crates at the warehouse till December, when they took me into the Boston office. Drop in about lunch time some day? 74 Franklin, corner of Arch St. . . .
Sorry I can't do a little better by you and the class in the way of news. However, I hereby give my word I'll write voluntarily whenever I hear anything interesting.
Sincerely,
PHIL RISING
8k Parker Street,Nexcton Center, Mass.
Dear Bill
I don't know how much of a help this stuff is, here enclosed; but it's your own fault. You told me I could ramble. Probably I would have done that little thing through habit anyhow.
Incidentally, I suppose you know that Cate is married in New York and that Ed Cogswell was sent by Dennison Mfg. Co., to Cleveland.
I'm not living in Cambridge myself, and only go over there in the evening when there is something very special on the ball, such as the customary weekly services in honor of bearded Bacchus; so that I don't know much about what goes on there. As far as I can figure it out, the boys seem to work pretty hard during the week, and raise complete joy at the end of that time.
A toi,
CHUCK DARLING
kh Roslyn Rd.,Waban
They of Harvard Square narrate with a sigh that in the old days there came out of the north a group of lusty gentlemen with youth in their eyes and laughter upon their lips, bearing in their brains, aside from the acknowledged granite of New Hampshire, a thirst for what they had been given to understand was knowledge. And the tale, as it is rehearsed from time to time in the deeper recesses of the less mentionable night-clubs about Boston, points out with as much sardony as candor, that they followed after their own thinking and the bypaths of their own desires, as they pursued the fate which was allotted for each of them. It is with something of a shrug that they repeat how some of these gallant adventurers met with notoriety and others with quieter friends; but they of Harvard Square evince no signs of chagrin as they relate how each of them, when his moment came, discovered that dust eventually settles upon any motionless object. And not even a casual observer can pass through the breathless halls of Widener Library without noticing a great number of these phenomena.
The tale then becomes abruptly specific, and tells with glee that among these greying objects was Bill Wieler, who was able to make himself particularly obnoxious to the present narrator by getting practically all A's; and Howie Eldridge, who, after a few weeks of agony in Old French (which, as the glose notes, has to be seen to be believed), left for sunnier waters; and Tex Coles, whom your minnesinger discovered adroitly poised in a perfectly unthinkable place, and decided that misery had better have some company, however unworthy. Bob Austin was seen fleetingly, as he discreetly maneuvered for advantage across a dangerous thoroughfare. One gathered the impression that something over half the class was, in one way or another, connected with this school. By "this school" I mean to refer, however indignantly, to Harvard University.
It is a tale which meanders a great deal, and has, as some say, no very distinct point, for they of Harvard Square, although specific, have a motto which is unrelievedly adhered to, and that is, "This material, although unusually dull, is absolutely essential for a complete understanding of the subject." There are bright spots and dark ones, but the end is that of that laughing, highspirited group of gallant hearts, every one grew more or less familiar with the material which customarily collects on motionless objects. Even the restless shoulders of the present speaker, who, by a droll coincidence, happens to be Chuck Darling, are pretty bent.
May 4, 1931
Dear Bill: I certainly was glad to hear from you, even though it was in the form of a plea for correspondence for the ALUMNI MAGAZINE.
After spending six months in the Richmond, Ind., plant of the Belden Mfg. Co., making electrical wires, cables, and cordage, I was transferred to the Chicago office. Since then I have been hard at work in the production department. Incidentally, I think I have become the city's best "No" man, because I can answer no to more requests for rush orders, special deliveries, etc., than any civilized man should. However, it is all in the life of a production man (which I'm afraid will be a short, hard, grind. Ho hum!).
I see Dick Burke and John Cook occasionally at a West Side hangout where we eat lunch. I believe they are both at Sears, Roebuck and Co., and from the sunburn John is sporting, I would say that life is agreeing with him. Last summer, while up in Ludington, Mich., I ran into Jim Kelly at a street carnival. Jim explained that he really wasn't in the business, being then employed at Marshall Field and Co., here in Chicago. I am ashamed to admit that I haven't seen him since.
Well, Bill, if you can use any of the sparse information in this letter, you are welcome to it—I am writing primarily to endorse your plan of stirring up some action in the non-letter-writing element in the class.
Sincerely,
BAIRD ROGERS
Craymore Club,La Grange, Illinois.
May 1, 1931
Dear Bill You will make a first-class lawyer—we have a string of them in tow at the bank and their chief attribute is an extraordinary ability in passing the buck. Not that I blame you at all, for the job of creating periodical news for unappreciative and unco-operative classmates is no cinch, however you look at it. The task would be hopeless if it weren't for matrimony—five hundred engagements, four hundred and sixty-nine weddings, and ten hundred and three offspring will furnish some interesting observations for a while to come.
I wrote John Dickey last week, along with the milkman and grocer, and included what gossip there was, suggesting that he pass it on. Nevertheless I can repeat myself. First of all let me warn you that Baltimore is the most barren territory for Dartmouth heroes. No one in these parts can pronounce Dartmouth, let alone tell you where it is. At my first party here I drifted into a languid female who lifted her eyes with some effort and managed to inquire "Princeton" (I had been out late the night before). I denied the implication and offered a corrected classification, which her complete non-registry taught me was the wrong answer. For a while after that we got extensive publicity in those circles, but Cal Soriero had to dash off to Texas in the interests of the Fidelity and Deposit Company and our reputation waned. However, from all reports Art Clifford is doing his best to correct the situation. Art, by the way, is or was selling life insurance for the Mutual Life of Baltimore. His specialty for a while was a two-bits a week policy for infants. Art picked up a red-hot tip one day and started looking for his baby prospect, but beat the stork by several hours. I'm wondering where he gets his tip-offs.
The Baltimore crowd drove down to Washington recently to hear Hoppy give,one of his fine addresses. The class of '29 made a disappointing showing there. Duke Barto was holding fort by himself, and he was so occupied with the task that we didn't get in any gossip.
I returned to Hanover last fall on my honeymoon. It would have been a grand idea had not the remnants of our contemporary undergraduates united with the faculty to spill all the unmentionables to Mrs. Hazard. We have an apartment in Baltimore with a guest room and boast a maid who can cook, so that any wanderers in this vicinity can expect the bare necessities if they drop by. If the door isn't open climb in the back window.
Best regards,
808 HAZARD
Union Trust Company of Maryland,Baltimore.
May 1, 1931
Dear Bill Your letter requesting a general bulletin of news and gossip was forwarded to me here, and arrived yesterday. It's probable that a number of sittings will be required to complete this, meagre though the information may be, for we're entirely dependent upon the weather, and have to make the most of every clear day. However, I believe I can get this material (?) to you before the stipulated dead-line, and that seems to be one of your major concerns. Give me "A" for effort, anyway.
Like many another member of the class, I have been reading the '29 column of the ALTJMNI MAGAZINE religiously, getting a lot of enjoyment out of the news items therein, and then co-operating with you by waiting passively for the next issue. When I consider the trouble I have maintaining a spasmodic correspondence with some half dozen people, my heart bleeds for you with your fourhundred-odd!
My own post-graduate autobiography is briefly told. Upon the completion of the conventional "graduation trip," I started working for my father (metal furniture, bank equipment, etc.), and stayed with that for five months. Became interested in aeronautics, and, choosing the glider as the logical entering wedge into the industry, forthwith laid in a large supply for immediate distribution. That was strike two! Sales of gliders were surprisingly (to me) few and far between, and the operation of a glider school in Westchester, after an encouraging start, only caused us to spend money slightly more rapidly than before.
At present, with two associates, I'm laboring to establish the original unit of what we hope is to be a national organization. Operating under the name of the U. S. Volunteer Air Service, it is our intention to set up a chain of units giving complete flight instruction at a figure impossible under the usual school set-up. After a series of minor annoyances—almost a month of bad weather (we arrived on Friday, March 13), complete destruction of a wing by fire during a welding operation—things are beginning to look decidedly better. The initial group of fifteen recruits is scheduled to report for instruction this week-end, weather permitting. The resulting revenue puts us a good three jumps ahead of the sheriff, a better lead than we've had since our advent in Washington.
Temporarily at least, the job of initiating these lads and lasses (only two of the latter so far) into the mysteries of the upper air is wine, and all the attendant headaches fall to the same person. Nevertheless, the activity will be more than welcome, and I'm looking forward to the week-end with more eagerness than dread.
Haven't seen a single Dartmouth man in Washington, much less a '29er, so what little information I have to impart will vary in age from 45 days to a year or more. If any of it should prove to be news to you Greater- Bostonians, I'll be both surprised and elated. In view of its antiquity, I assume absolutely no responsibility for the accuracy of these reports.
Saw Dick Johnston in Chicago early in March (approx.); he's still in the employ of— I almost said working for—his father in the building contracting game. Apparently he's making the company pay, for he barges around in one of the more completely equipped Cadillac phaetons. While in Chicago, enjoyed a short telephonic chat with Stu Houston, '28, '29, '30, et. al., but failed to lure him away from the inevitable bridge game. I forget the title he used to grace his present occupation, but I remember distinctly that it had all the earmarks of a sinecure.
Ster Cannon, ex-'29, phoned shortly before I left New York, and informed me that he had left the rapidly-thinning ranks of the single men, and was en route to Bermuda with the frau. Red Flynn, another ex-'29 man from the same city (Cleveland), was still laboring in a local bank last time I heard from him.
Used to see Brad Bradley and Eddie Reese occasionally when I was in the big city; Brad was working for Valentine & Co., and was wont to tell me that a couple of my gliders finished with Valentine's lacquers would bring in the business faster than I could take care of it; otherwise, he appeared okay. Eddie was interested in some phase of the ladies' glove industry.
Had a Christmas card from Buss Goudey but, like most Christmas cards, it was unenlightening. Written in some queer-looking language, it didn't even give me a clue as to the country in which Russ was sojourning at the time. Presumably it's in Europe, though, for the return address was care of American Railway Express, Paris.
Paul Woodbridge was one of two representatives of the Eastman Cos. at a recent business convention in New York. Although his absence from his native Rochester lasted only two days, he made at least one longdistance call to talk to Janet. Look for an engraved announcement from that direction any day, Bill; if it doesn't come through darn soon, I'll give up this Winchell stuff altogether!
During Woody's visit in New York, we saw his old roommate, Panos Georgopulo. Panos' occupation eludes me for the moment; he sports a moustache, looks very fit. Local talent:
(1) Frank Williams—still managing his mother's gown shop in down-town Brooklyn. He is somewhat evasive on the subject of the practical application of his English major to this line of work, but it's possible that this poetry racket still goals 'em.
(2) Lyt Johnston—right-hand man to his father, president of Leopard Products Co. (automotive accessories). When he isn't making one of his frequent, mysterious trips —Detroit, Montreal, etc.—he lives with his wife at 700 Ocean Ave., Brooklyn.
(3) Johnnie Cornehlsen—I give this guy up. He has been flitting from bough to bough ever since Commencement, and every time I get used to his latest occupation, I find it's only another former occupation. Last report: working for some New York advertising house (as of March 1).
(4) Ed Heister—another hard-to-place fellow, but I believe he's still with the Hearst publications.
(5) Gene Davis—on "the Street" with one of the better brokerage houses. Another English major gone haywire.
(6) Ellie Wright—my last impression of this invader from Rockland was of Ellie clad in a full-dress suit while serving as an usher at Lyt Johnston's wedding (Hallowe'en, 1930). He's one of the myriad employees of a large utility company, and was stationed, at last report, in Flushing, L. I.
Sincerely, BUD
1819 G Street, N. W.Washington, D. C.
Inches Pierce, writing on the stationery of H. M. Payson aijd Co., of Portland, bankers and brokers, told of an afternoon's fishing trip he took with Mrs. Inches on which they captured a creel-full of beautiful trout, and unexpectedly gathered in some news in the following manner: "Coming around a sharp bend in the stream whom should I meet but Jim Morse sitting on a large overhanging tree root, feet dangling down and fishing rod resting on his elbow. He informed me that the grain business wasn't as good as it might be, and that at a recent conference held with Ambrose McLaughlin the summer camp or hotel business had its attractions. After talking sometime he dug into his hip pocket and extricated along with a dirty handkerchief a letter from Phil May. It seems that since the Naval Parley the marine insurance business has fallen off considerably along with business all over the country, and that foreign parts have their inducements for Phil. Tom Maynard it seems has done very well helping Harry Hillman. He showed me a clipping where three Dartmouth track men were doing over six feet in the high jump."
Medicine-man John Dickey gave us the following good letter from Woodsman Bob Monahan, whose record for real good letters is unsurpassed:
May 2, 1931
Dear Jack: The alumni letter was forwarded to me from my home address and arrived this afternoon. As I am still included in the student class, the enclosed modest sum will have to suffice for this year. Another year I hope to be a breadwinner, so perhaps will be in a position to increase that amount.
I have been down here in north central Louisiana, since the middle of March, surveying and timber estimating for the Urania Lumber Co. I am still enrolled in the Yale School of Forestry, and the work down here is in the nature of a clinical assignment. I am also studying Southern forest conditions, which are quite different from those of the Northeast.
I expect to spend the last two weeks of this month on the logging works of a large outfit in Arkansas, and will then be in line for my Master's degree. On July 1, I expect to start work for the Forest Service (U. S.) on a permanent basis, provided I passed the seven-hour Civil Service exam I took a couple of months ago in New Haven.
The work here is of a very practical nature, and I feel that I am getting a great deal out of it. The weather and travel conditions have been much more favorable than in the Northeast. However, the insect pests are already having their innings, and I doubt if I could ever become reconciled to them. Hardly a day goes by without a close call with some snake. The cotton-mouth moccasin snakes are so numerous that we carry side arms with us most of the time. Only yesterday one struck at me but I managed to get out of his way. We are obliged to follow compass lines right across bottom land, bayous, etc., so run through some pretty wild country that only "land lookers" have occasion to see. Most of the time we are measuring tree heights, tallying figures in our note books, or doing something which draws our attention away from the footing ahead and that leads to trouble. Down in the bottom lands there are bear and even wolves. I doubt if I have ever been in a more eerie region. I have heard nesters tell about killing wolves with knives, and they're a sincere truth-telling folk I believe.
This business of living in the back country has its disadvantages, for this evening I must make a round trip of 96 miles to purchase a few necessities. I doubt if we shall ever live in a community which has as compact and complete a trading center as Hanover.
This Curley fiasco must have caused quite a stir in New England. I was very much pleased to read in today's papers that he has about-faced. I never could appreciate the worth of some of Curley's doings, but considered him a more clever politician than to pull a boner like that. I'll bet the Boston sports writers had a good bit to say, not to forget the hotel keepers and taxi drivers. Even the New Orleans paper ran a special story about the affair. It was the only amusing incident about the whole business. It is a strictly Democratic paper and never misses a chance to poke fun at the G. 0. P. The writer assumed that Boston would have a Republican mayor, so started his article, "Following the staunch old Republican tradition of protecting home industries, Mayor James M. Curley. ..." Wonder what the honorable mayor would think if he knew he had been considered a Republican! Be that as it may I hope to be in Beantown next November 28 and will try to look you up if you're still cooling your heels in Cambridge.
Yours truly, Bob MONAHAN
Urania, La.
By the time you fellows read this letter Art Clow will have joined the ever-growing ranks of bliss, for on May 16, at Maplewood, N. J., Art marries Marjorie Churchill Holmes. Congratulations, Art, and greetings to our new classmate.
Medicine Men Coles-Dickey-Swope offer the following tidings and prophesy that '29 is out to redeem itself: the class is way ahead of its record as of this time last year, and its numerical position among the many classes is quite honorable—far more so than that of the boastful "Thirtyteers." So be heartened and delay no longer with thy small wampum that '29 may continue unashamed!
Secretary, 114 Pleasant St., Arlington, Mass.
