CLASS of 1929

The gift of tongues has again descended upon the heathen, and a certain pagan, Orr, abetted by a barbarian, Coles, now wield the pen of your omniscient scribe. Why? That is another bright chapter.

But first, a lot of you yokels who managed to sift through the air-tight sieve of the Dartmouth selective system in the fall of 1925 are thumbing a copy of this MAGAZINE for the first time in a year. You are aghast and agape. But not because you are getting it free. You like it. You want news of Dartmouth. You want news of your classmates. You might be interested to know that Soup Lockwood is not the Java Head. He is, however, superintendent in chief and attendant in ordinary to the Dartmouth Alumni Association of Java. The reason that we are writing this is not that Andres is dead and buried. On the contrary, this and many another mystery will be revealed to you once each month henceforward for ten months for the paltry pittance of two dollars. Subscribe to the MAGAZINE, take out your telephone and save money. You might even have a better time and get asked out more. Probably the Secretary will be glad to take Confederate money, reparations bonds, or dole certificates if and when you get them. Their value will be applied on account of the twodollar subscription. Now as a further superirresistible colossal attraction, Mr. F. W. Andres will be back next month and no longer will you have to put up with this drivel.

The only reason, why he isn't writing this is that on this very day, September 9, he was married to Miss Katherine Pratt Weeks of Brookline, Mass., at the Church of the Redeemer in Chestnut Hill. To be sure, to them who knew Bill in his madcap college days, this is an entirely unexpected turn of affairs. The Reverend Mr. Allen W. Clark, who was rector of St. Thomas' Church in Hanover during '29's tenure of undergraduate life, married the bridegroom, whose handsomeness was surpassed only by the beauty of the bride. We know. Sure, we saw it. Swope was best man, despite the fact that he has had his knee taken apart and put together all over again within the past three weeks. Among the ushers were Bing Carter, Jack Gunther, Tom Maynard, Bill McCaw, and Dud Orr. If you don't believe this ask Bill Coles, Gus Herbert, Nels Hartstone, and Squeak Redding. After a reception at the home of the bride's parents in Brookline, the happy pair left behind a motorcycle cop for Niagara Falls, Atlantic City, Asbury Park, and Revere Beach. That is, perhaps they did. Bill and his wife will be at home in Cambridge after the first of November.

We spoke of Bill McCaw. Reports that he was seen in Arizona with T.B. were erroneous. He may be seen in Cleveland, or East Cleveland, whichever place is more to your liking, almost any night in the week with J. McC. We learn that he has an extremely interesting and absorbing job with the GE with a great chance for advancement. Bill likes it even better than swimming on his back.

And while on the subject of matrimony we have just learned that Jack Cort was married to Miss Nancy Thomas of Flushing, L. 1., in May, 1930. Jack received a master's degree in geology in June at Northwestern, and is planning to start on his Ph.D. this September, making his residence in New York.

Frank Weeks is engaged to Miss Elsie Watkins of Highland Park, 111. Frank received his degree in electrical engineering from M. I. T., and is about to come to the aid of Mr. Insull in supplying electrical power to the Midwest.

Another of the fortunates is George Salyer, whose engagement to Miss Margaret Loeb of Rochester, N. Y., has been announced. The statistical department of the Eastman Kodak Cos. provides the setting for Salyer's present activities. We must marvel when we think that every time a shutter clicks George has his hand in it.

The following notes of activity in the world of finance and business have come to the attention of the Secretary. Henry Putnam controls the lumber business in Carthage, Mo. He is making vaulting poles. There is a high market for them this year. People use them to lift themselves out of the depression. Woody Woodbridge is in advertising business in Rochester, N. Y., while Wen Barney is in the public accounting game in Washington, D. C. We hear that he has accounted for everything except Congress.

Morgan Baker writes a long letter in best bankers' style after the fashion of Baker and Morgan. Morgan himself (we mean Morgan Baker) has transferred from the bond selling to the income tax department in the Guaranty Trust Cos. Mike Sherman is also in the bank, somewhere. He is too in the income department. He came in last year. Let's hope he comes out all right. Charlie Harden is selling bonds for Cassatt and Cos. Jo Heap at ux. along with little Dora Jo have decided to give up the metropolitan life in New York and return to their native habitat in Arixona. Morgan says that he sees Phil Mayher every week or so, and that Phil is practically running the New York office of the Slatersville Finishing Cos. We are glad to know that Phil is not finished with the Finishing Cos. Wollison is with the Bankers Trust, and Ginter Pratt is on the road for his father's book company. Austin and Swope worked in law offices this summer in New York. Eddie Reese is with the Fownes Glove Cos. and fits well.

Bartlett Bradford (Buzzard) Bradley has been traveling around the East with Cy Worth, learning the ropes of the rope industry. Bradley has just been sent to the Golden Gate to represent the Plymouth Cordage Cos. on the West Coast. He claims to understand ropes from one end to the other.

Gaynor is living in a three-room cabin nestled on the edge of a precipice in the Salzkammergut range of the Austrian Alps, high above the city of Salzburg not far from Bad Aussee. There he lives alone with a Columbia student and his piano. Occasionally his melodious raptures are interrupted by the rumbling groans of the glacier outside his window. He works on his piano and funs on the Alpine slopes and in the icy lakes. Ed Plumb lives not far away with his mother. Although it is true that Plumb and Gaynor were present at the attempted assassination of King Zog I of Albania, it is an error that they were offered a joint tenancy in half his kingdom and his daughter in marriage.

Here is a letter from Harlan Taylor, which came just too late for the last issue in the spring. Dear Bill:

First of all I am still pounding the old rocks, although my work is a bit more refined in that I am dealing with the micro-paleontological aspect. Last year I spent in the field working for an oil company in western Kansas and central Oklahoma, and then this fall I decided to come back to school and try for another degree, which I hope to get the end of this summer.

My year out here has been very pleasant, for I had the pleasure of seeing the Dartmouth-Stanford game last November and al the fellows that came along. The game was a dandy, and I am trying to arrange to get back next year for the one in Boston.

Stanford is a fine school and the fellows are very much like the Dartmouth fellows. They took quite a liking to the Dartmouth crowd when they were out, and Dartmouth will always be a welcome visitor out here.

I haven't been in touch with many of the class of Twenty-nine since being away from Hanover, and in fact I went for a whole year without seeing anyone. Upon arriving in California I met John Calver and Ed McGibbon, and we had some good times together. John, as you probably know, is back in the East again, so Ed and I manage to get together at least once a week to talk over old times. We have been up to a few of the Dartmouth parties in Frisco, and enjoyed them a lot. They have a live crowd. Other Twenty-nine men in Frisco are Blyth Adams, Robert Collins, and Dan Marx. Collins is in school in San Francisco, and Adams and Marx are in business. Ed McGibbon is in the Stanford Law School.

I will be trotting back to Oklahoma next fall sometime, and will go back in the oil business. I hope the business picks up a bit, for a great majority of the oil companies have let out most of their geologists.

It is needless to say, Bill, that I have missed seeing all of my Dartmouth friends a lot, but I hope to get back soon to say hello at least. Art Rydstrom is the only one that I have heard from very often, and from what he says there is a regular Twenty-nine gathering on Wall St. I suppose that you have almost as large a crowd there in Cambridge.

I just remembered that I had the pleasure of spending the Christmas holidays with Mr. and Mrs. Polly Parrott. They are located in Los Angeles, and Polly is doing real well with some brokerage house. Mrs. Parrott is certainly a peach, and the two are an ideal couple.

Your friend, HARLAN TAYLOR

Whoa Emma, here comes Hodson! Dear Bill:

Your new system of gathering news of '29ers is probably the most sensible solution of a tough problem, but it happens that you picked a poor time to ask for my contribution, for there is very little to offer concerning the two-year-old crop located in this section of the Styx. However, here is what I have.

Doug Gray, who was with us in Hanover for two years, married Dorothy French in June, and rumor hath it that he has a splendid job in Bridgeport. I might add, as one who went through high school with both of the contracting parties, that Miss French is a sterling person, admirably adapted to complementing Mr. Gray's sterling qualities.

Steele Smith is selling securities for a local house, while Marty Bergin is rapidly developing an appropriately long face, quite in keeping with his occupation, which happens to be scratching the top of a desk at "Martin Bergin's Sons, Morticians." He is the only person that I have seen in a long while who is not complaining of the depression. Incidentally Marty is married, very, very well married, in fact. Something about Marty; he always keeps his eyes open.

My own summer has been free from exciting incidents. Mr. John Harvard's School for Boys has not as yet notified me of the results of my exams, so I've been filling in the blank spaces by showing a few hunters and jumpers for a local show stable, and between horse shows, acting as credit manager (a dignified way of saying bill collector) for my brother's Waterbury Cadillac Cos. Needless to say, showing good horses is much more profitable these days than selling automobiles.

Ed How passed through Waterbury in the night a couple of weeks ago, and left me a note telling me that he is now located at Bridgeport with the General Electric. Tom Stokes is passing a quiet summer with his family, and also, I believe working part of the time at the Stokes Coal Cos. in New York, while awaiting news from Mr. Harvard.

I spent last week-end in Boston, and while there had dinner one night with Chris Born, Nick Nichols and one Charlie (Hap) Hazzard, who belongs to the '2B clan. Chris is pursuing his study of architecture at Tech, and filling in his spare time by flitting about from pillar to post in his new four-passenger cabin aeroplane. Nick, as might be expected, is justifying his Phi Bete key at Harvard Medical, his summer work, to be specific, taking the form of a thesis on the metabolism of the Norwegian Doughnut-hunter. Hap is doing some vague sort of research at the Massachusetts General Hospital (if I could only be so bold, right out in print, as to tell you just what).

Aside from what I have outlined above the only piece of news that has come to me is one that has probably come to you too. Charlie Dudley has landed himself a job with the well-known Boston and Maine Railroad, as director of said line's recreational activities. You may remember that the B. & M. ran a series of snow excursions last winter, up into our North Country, excursions which involved skis, snowshoes, toboggans, ski-boots, ski-wax, ski-poles, ski-jackets, etc. Well, Charley decided there ought to be skiinstructors too, and convinced the president of the B. & M. that he was right, to the extent of landing the berth for himself. So you may expect most startling developments along the B. & M. right of way, come next snow-fall.

Right here I find myself drained, so the part of widsom would seem to be to affix my ave atque vale. Hope to see you and all the

rest of the clan at the Stanford game pow wow, if not before. Yours (aw make up the rest yourself), JIM HODSON

Secretary, 114 Pleasant St., Arlington, Mass.