CLASS of 1919
It wouldn't surprise us a bit if football were to break up the depression. All through the year there hasn't been anything much to talk about except the depression, but now along comes the good old football season and everybody rallies around, gets all excited in the same old way, and somehow we all realize that things are going on and probably will go on. And you know no depression is going to be able to stand that.
Our Mr. Cannell seems to be doing miracles with what was supposed to be the' world's worst football team. After beating Lebanon Valley in what the press reported as a pretty sorry fashion, the team went to Yale and pulling rabbit after rabbit out of the hat finally ended up in a tie. Somehow or other this was not very encouraging. It seemed like the law of averages making up for years of lost time at one fell swoop. But after watching the Harvard game, we take our hat off to Cannell and his team. Apparently they are able without any stuff to go out there and make a football game with any man's team. How they do it is not quite clear to anyone apparently, but, by Golley, they do.
The night before the game we gathered together at the University Club. There were about twenty in all. Munro and two or three waiters after twenty minutes of great concentration came out with some sort of pinkish appetizer which did very well, and then we ate standing up, which proved to be a good innovation, as it did away with the delays of serving and gave every one free rein to eat just as much as he wanted. As we expected, Staff Hudson and Bob Proctor could not be kept from singing—quartettes, quintettes, and sextettes were going strong all the evening. If there is any one who did not learn that new wallop for "Way down Yonder in the Corn Field," he must have been hiding under the piano.
Among those present and kicking about something or other were: Phil Bird, Louie Munro, Rock Hayes, Al Googins, Spen Dodd, Staff Hudson, Bob Proctor, George Bingham, Tom Bresnahan, Art Havlin, Jack McCrillis, Jock Murray, Freddie Ives, Bill White, Cliff Hayes, Hawka Hawks, Jim Davis, Herb Fleming, and Dennie Sullivan. There may have been a few others, but the list we made is at the office, so we have to guess.
Hawks and Hayes spent the evening trying to sell each other bonds with no luck. Cliff Hayes was up all the way from Spartanburg in one of the Carolinas—has three sons, one of them twelve years old. Doc White is getting fatter and balder if possible. Jack McCrillis is still in Newport N. H., and wishes all 'l9ers passing through to Hanover or elsewhere to stop and see him. Tom Bresnahan, with his whiskers trimmed down to a modest six-inch wing spread, was over from New York, Proctor reported Larmon due to spend the night with him on Saturday.
Sitting with the class at the game we saw the frosted food boys Ross and Chipman, also Bill Forbes, who is now textiling in New Bedford and living in Fairhaven. With him was Carl Cavanaugh. Gillett export man Bill Higgins (shortest man in the world) sat next to Elmer Pilsbury, and Jigger Merrill was right in front of us. All in all it was a good week-end, seeing all the boys and doing a little reminiscing.
Word reached us last week that Harry Hall was killed in an airplane crash. We haven't the details, but we believe he volunteered to do some stunts at an airmeet for the benefit of the unemployed in Newark. While doing an intricate spin his plane got out of control and he crashed into the top of a house. This is certainly sad news to every 'l9er, for everyone in the class knew and liked Harry. The funeral was held in New York, and was attended by Bob Paisley, Jack Clark, Rabbi Raible, Clark Ingraham, and Paul Clements, representing 1919.
Secretary, 87 State St., Framingham Center, Mass.
