CLASS OF 1914
John Piane had a busy time during the holidays. You may not know it, but Johnnie drives Chemical No. 1 of the Hanover fire department. His ability to maneuver this overgrown toy with perfect control and utmost speed has been the means of saving thousands of dollars worth of Hanover property. Recent conflagrations in the Psi U House, on the Etna road, and South Main Street have enlivened the life of Johnnie the Fireman.
According to a recent bulletin from New York, Jim Heenehan has a yen for duplicate contract. What won't these Gotham barristers think up next?
From the same source, we learn that Dick Cutler has been pounding the pavements of Broadway. Apparently Dick's life underwriting efforts are not confined to Springfield. Either that, or like the moth, he can't keep away from the flame.
Al Richmond attended the recent Thayer School dinner in New York. We have not learned what other members of the 1914 chain gang were there. And while we're on the subject, here's some hot dirt on a lot of the Thayer School alumni.
Hal Van Riper is connected with the highway department of the state of Pennsylvania, and has a part time job carrying the official title of president of the Dartmouth Alumni Association of Central Pennsylvania. More power to him! Our Philadelphia reporter confidentially remarks: "Van hasn't gained or lost a pound since he left Hanover seventeen years ago come next July." He also confesses that he hasn't been back in all these years. Ain't it a shame!
Another graduate of the same school of advanced and technical learning also gets his meals at the public crib, namely Oats Hovey, who is with the Pennsylvania department of bridges. Oats also has a part time job—and thereby hangs a tale, to wit:—
Bed Davidson, on a recent trip to Harrisburg, feeling in the mood to woo the muse of the lyre and the lute, dropped in on a performance of the Harrisburg Civic Opera Association. He noticed an unmilitary figure, strangely familiar, hidden far in the wings. Sure enough, none other than Oats. He thinks he was carrying a spear. Ain't an engineer's training wonderful?
Freddie Weed also makes his home in Harrisburg. When home, he parks his puppies under a desk in the office of Gannett, Seelye, and Fleming, engineers and constructors. At present, Fred is in South America, making an inspection tour for his company.
Dick McAllaster, who is Philadelphia manager of the Maytag Company, is expected to move to another section of the country shortly—where, he does not state.
Last year the Slater family ran a continuous epidemic of sickness throughout the winter. I am sorry to learn that Eddie Leech's home seems to be the victim this year. Ed reports that his wife, his daughter, and his mother-in-law are going through the throes of scarlet fever. Last month we reported that Ed was on his way to the Coast. He got as far as Chicago when he learned of the trouble at home, so hurried right back to Boston. All is going well, however, and he now plans to get back on his Coast trip within the next month.
Gus Fuller, who gets almost as much fun out of singing as he does out of selling a thousand tons of Jones and Laugh in steel, ran into Bill Slater and Win Snow in Providence last week at a rehearsal of the University Glee Club. The three immediately staged an impromptu hum, which Gus says took him back to the senior fence episode of the Seskwee.
Jess Babcock was a recent New York visitor ringing in on the monthly class dinner at the Club. Jess is with the Hooker Electrochemical Company. We understand that he led a discussion on the subject, "Why Niagara Falls fell."
The annual dinner of the New York Association on January 28, brought forth the following, according to our special representative:—Bob Hopkins, Dwight Conn, Harry Haywood, Ernie Learoyd, Ted Lavin, Jeff Beals, Walt Humphrey, Bill Hands, Sig Larmon, Gordon Sleeper, Jim Heenehan, Howie Fahey, Fred Davidson, and Mart Remsen. Fourteen Fourteeners.
The mention of the last name brings to my mind another item that should be foremost in the thoughts of each member of the class— THE ALUMNI FUND. Last year, for the first time in many years, we failed to make our quota—and boys, we failed miserably. That was then, however, and now it's NOW. We have a real job ahead of us to push the class back in the 100% group. So, when you get your first appeals this year, get out the old sock and dig deep.
We recently received a beautiful brochure from Deke Wescott regarding the Osceola-Gramatan Inn at Daytona Beach, where Deke is manager. Wouldn't we like to cast aside the four-buckle galoshes and spend the next few weeks in that lovely spot!
And finally, let's clear up a little misunderstanding as a result of a note in the last issue. At that time we made some reference to George Boggs going fishing at his game preserve near the College Grant. Boys, I apologize! Apparently that was wrong, as you may judge from the following communication recently received from George Boggs, president of the Nova Scotia Fruit Growers Association:—
"You tell the person that thinks I have to go to the College Grant to catch fish, he's crazy—and besides, it was always my understanding that in that part of the country, fishin' warn't their winter sport."
And further on the same subject from Bill Slater:—
"Had to laugh at your comments on George Boggs and the College Grant. George Briggs was the feller I had in mind, and thought that was the name I gave you."
And now I'll offer my own explanation. Early in January, I received a letter from Bill and Ed Leech, who at the time were both taking a rest cure in Hanover, and that epistle contained the above much discussed news item. Said letter was written in longhand and apparently by the light of the midnight oil, and as it neared its close, the writing, if such it could be styled, became well nigh illegible. Ah, me! Sic semper spiritus frumenti et climaticus Hanoverum!
Secretary, 100 Milk St., Boston
