CLASS OF 1917
Your scribe was lucky enough to be able to attend the April dinner of 1917 in New York. If you enjoy renewing a bit of campus gossip, if you like to hear a few of the old Dartmouth medleys, in short if you want to live over occasionally one of those Hanover evenings when you weren't overburdened with studying, may I recommend a class dinner such as they run at the New York Dartmouth Club. Among those who dropped in during the affair were: Don Brooks, Freddy Fredericks, Chuck Gilmore, Trott King, Frank Lagay, Rudy Miller, Howard Myers, Joe Myer, Don O'Leary, Len Reade, Pete Robie, Sam Saline, Buck Stewart, Art Stout, and Gene Towler.
BOYNTON GOES CALLING
Bob Boynton and his wife toured to California and back this spring, and on the wayspent a couple of days in Loveland, Colo., visiting Ken Hammond.
REG SMITH RECOVERS
During last year Reg Smith was sent out to the Mayo Clinic for an operation. Everything turned out satisfactorily for him, and he has been back in Albion, Mich., and on the job since then. He reports that Doc Walters is getting pretty famous out there in Minnesota.
KNOWLTON ALSO RECOVERS
Prof. Knowlton had a very serious time this winter, and had to undergo two tough abdominal operations in the Hanover hospital. He is reported as getting back on his 'feet nicely at present.
STRANGER THAN FICTION
Scott Rutherford nearly lost his eyesight during the early part of the year due to an accident in which he was hit in the eye by a golf ball while playing indoor golf. He, too, is recuperating now, so we have nothing but good news from the class cripples.
TOM AND JANE
The Chuck Gilmores recently paid a visit to the Gene Towlers. Young Tom and Jane Gilmore came along with the old folks to call on young Jane and Tom Towler. Jane Gilmore tried to take Jane Towler's doll. Tom Towler started to help his sister out, which drew Tom Gilmore into the fight. The next minute Tom Towler missed Tom Gilmore with a large brick, but the brick scored a perfect hit through the living room window. This story is given in full as a warning of what we may expect at the Fifteenth Reunion.
HUSK OF DETROIT
Freddy Husk drops us a line from Detroit. He is still with Hornblower and Weeks; but did not extend any free advice on the stock market.
BROWN CROWDED
Mott Brown extends an invitation to any of the gang passing through Walpole, Mass., en route from Boston to Providence, to stop in and pass the time of day. He has been living at 22 Clark Ave., but says that three lively daughters more than fill up this house, and he expects to move. It will only be a move to one of the other four streets in Walpole, however, so you won't have any trouble locating him.
RILEY IS OPTIMISTIC
Chuck Riley writes in a more optimistic mood concerning business than some of the rest of you; but he works for Henry Ford, you know, his specific duties being in connection with the Somerville, Mass., Ford assembly plant.
ANNOUNCING POLLY SISSON
Ruth and Walt Sisson announce their lineup at present as: Carol, 6 years; Joe, 2 years; and Polly, 6 months. All you lack is a couple of good guards for a first class basket ball team, Walt.
MCCULLOCH FAMILY STATISTICS
Norm McCulloch writes as follows: Economically—happy days are here again. Rayon is booming. Domestically—Sandy and Neil are one year
nearer Dartmouth. Socially—been singing something simple since 1929.
Educationally—Sandy is learning to swim,
LUDGATE OF PHILADELPHIA
At a meeting of the Dartmouth College Secretaries Association in Hanover in May, our Bruce Ludgate represented the Dartmouth alumni of Philadelphia. Bruce is the Armstrong Cork and Linoleum Co. around Philly; but that didn't keep him from taking a vacation in Bermuda this spring, where he ran into Hap Mason and Mose Hutchins. He reports Mose as well on the way to being really stout. Can you imagine that?
MYSTERIOUS WRITER SENDS UNSIGNED LETTER PROM BOSTON
Just a gust of dust from Tremont St. . . . on May Day.
Win the Scudder migrated to New York the better to celebrate his—and get this- Fifteenth Wedding Anniversary. Heigh ho, but tempus does fugit ... A swirl, flourish, and Connie Murphy emerges from the potato barrels with more news for his produce trade journal. He yearns for news—real news—of Gregory . . . Lacking imagination and discretion a man carelessly waves a thousand-dollar bill which he has saved from the crash. Right away Charley Peters wants to sell him a Studebaker (adv.), Bob Paine extols the merits of a Nash (adv.), Al Emmons crowds in with a word for the Buick (adv.), and the fight is on . . . The strain has had no appreciable effect upon Don Litchard. He doesn't look a day older—if he keeps his hat on . . . Forry Emery has closed his home in Florida and has issued instructions to his men to have the boat ready the fifteenth. He, too, maintains his normal degree of effervescence . . . Pay Barber is rotund to a fault, but as a partner in the w.k. firm of Field and Cowles he is perhaps to be forgiven . . . Affable George de Currier is still painting the town red, green, blue, and what have you. He avers with a knowing emphasis that Sunny Sanborn is wasting time in the insurance business . . . Tommy Landregan is another perennial youth. His picture in the Freshman Year Book is a perfect likeness today . . . Howie Stockwell has gone Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. He and his four boys have converted the cellar of the old homestead into one of the most elaborate and complete miniature movie theatres which this old-timer has ever seen. They even have a telephone, from the operator's booth to back-stage . . . Speaking of movies, the Sanborn, R., boy seems to get a kick out of reviewing current pictures for the Boston Transcript . . . Ray Sault has moved his business from Southy to Everett, and if you think that isn't an improvement, argue it out with Ray. He'd love to see you . . . Heinie Wright and Pete Olds came in from Cambridge last year, and they should be showing up again fairly soon else their passports will expire. How these midgets hold their girlish figures and complexions!! The fates have showered them with attention . . . Spike Maclntyre has been seen frequently with a new friend. A chap by the name of Kenneth Holden—maybe some of you know him. They seem to have a lot of fun together . . . Charley Downer commutes from Stoneham to Newton every day (that's the same as commuting from Secaucus to Red Bank—or the same as from Gary to Barrington). He's the master brain of a large shirt and collar cleanser, and that's not a racket in Boston—yet . . . Asty Bartlett was recently seen admiring the fit of a new sweater in our foremost men's apparel emporium. It set off his striking phiz to perfection, but it emphasized an equatorial promontory far too effectively . . . Rog Merrill wears a hang-dog expression most unbecoming a single gentleman. However, investigation proved that he has never recovered from the inconsideration of one Gyp Green, who unceremoniously and without any warning up and gets himself married. Roger, unlike the elephant, never forgets . . . Gyp on the other hand, having gone Paramount—or is it Fox?—is custodian of a suburban movie chain, and the father of one youngster (gender forgotten) ... It can now be said with all certainty that Walt Ferguson is thinner—yes, much thinner. It's very becoming, even though it automatically precludes any possibility of his occupying a position in the front rank of any Shriner's parade . . . Every Wednesday afternoon (winter only) that Walt along with Walt Carr indulge in that inane pastime, bowling. Perhaps that's the adequate explanation of their sylphic proportions . . . And, speaking of the Carr clan reminds us that Curly is now dispensing the financial service of Eaton and Howard (adv.). And it's being dispensed, what's more ... It is rumored that Curly now and then seeks expert advice from one Sam MacKillop, the bond trader par excellence, but at this moment it is impossible to confirm that whisper. Sam's not a Scotchman for nothing, so figure out for yourselves how much dope Curly may get . . . Also, if, by any chance, MacKillop is encountered, query him in regard to an egregious trick which he recently played upon one of our classmates (the yellow so-and-so!!) . . . Will Fitch was in full spirit for a lynching when advised of the recent unpleasantness anent variations in the football schedule. Times change and with it tempers, so all's quiet again on the rialto . . . Walt 'Barrows, now a partner—if you please—in Storey, Thorndike, Palmer and Dodge (adv.), comports himself accordingly, and such comportment . . . Barney Gerrish—and bear in mind the fact that this is the first time we've mentioned the Scotch Itch—has scraped the mold from the bats, the rust from his joints,*and is now ready for the Twilight League, hoping against hope that he may cross niblicks with Scudder, Paine, or any other of his arch-adversaries. (AmericanGolfer please copy.) . . . And, as the dust clears away, the shining beach along Boston's only avenue of parade reflects the occasional brilliance of pulchritude with which it may be favored. It's still the same old place in spite of gin, crashed markets, low prices, and intermittent dashes of caustic politics. It anticipates with pleasure the opportunity of twice playing the host next fall—and may you—one and all—make extra effort to accept the fair city's gracious hospitality. (Adv. inserted at the request of the Chamber of Commerce, Rotary Club, and Boston Navy Yard.)
Secretary, North Brookfield, Mass. 1917 DINES
