Class of 1930

For this month's installment we are chiefly indebted to those good men of the executive committee, John French and Bob Booth, who came through neatly with letters to inaugurate the new system of ghost-writing which we expect to take a great load off the Secretary's shoulders and to add considerable tone to these columns. For whatever other information which is to be found this month we owe, not to the efforts of Thirtymen to keep the ball rolling with occasional reports about them- selves, but to football and fall in Hanover, which have brought a few of the boys to town. There is Galbraith, for example, the Jersey insurance man, who was met, strangely enough, in the library last week. He reports life and the insurance business pleasant enough for him, although he has passed the phase in which he was the Old Man to innumerable stenographers. Freddy Page, Gal says, is with the Mutual Life of New York; Raube with Kresge in Newark; Phinney repossessing cars for General Motors Acceptance Corporation, or some such name, in Boston; and Hal Booma, who was here helping coach the ends during the first part of the season, with the United Shoe Machinery Corporation in Boston, doing various things in the farflung interests of this organization. Gal was going to drop in and complete his report, but—didn't.

Tay Pay Maguire likewise was going to drop in and give a report today, after being encountered in Parkhurst interviewing officials of the College about a scheme of his, about which perhaps there will be more news some other time. His report didn't get made either.

The Pecks have barged over twice from Glens Falls, bearing a great deal of cheer but little '30 news. Si Chandler climbed the two flights of stairs at 19 South Park St. after the Norwich game, with a gal, and gave the password. To Si, the furniture man, we owe the following items. After giving all the local color of the Norwich game, in a communication from his pen which we saw, and after telling how Haffenreffer flew up in his plane and how "Dickerson and his bride of three weeksentertained me in their three-room apartment surrounded by three pieces of furniture—great atmosphere for one in thefurniture game," he proceeds with the following succulent bits, snatched here and there, with tactful deletions:

"Sunday I drove over to Woodstock andcalled on Rhoda and Johnny French. Thatafternoon they were leaving for Cambridgewith their young son. This year they havea house on Sedgwick Road. John told ofseeing Nels and his wife, over Labor Day,when they spent the week-end in Woodstock. Last spring I spent the night atRocky's, just after he became 'Daddy' Reports from Chase are that all is welldown there. . . . Fred, you know, is connected with Turk and Company . . .Fredshowed me the whole works and the waythe little company survives. . . . It lookslike the old orange farmer from Florida ismaking good.

"Had a letter from Bill Smith in June,and he reported all well in that greatAmerican home, the Am. Tel. and Tel.Case of putting on the old dog and usingthe company stationery, a P. S. aboutdictation, etc. Never mind, some day Isuppose you will really be doing thosethings on the level and not sneaking a type-writer after hours. . . . Birnie finished atTech this June and promptly married MaryKidder. A letter mailed from Beverly indicates they are living there. . . .Had aletter from Rusty Morrill the other day,and it seems that he up and 'offed' toEurope for the summer.

"Emrich and Schmidt seem to have littledope either here or with Dickerson. Myonly contact is a letter this summer fromFred. Micky, according to the Chicago correspondent, attends the Dartmouth Clubluncheons, but what he is doing . . . ?

"Had a letter from Johnny Marsh, andhere is something. He is planning to go toGermany this year to study for an operaticcareer. Has signed up with some Germanopera company. Claims the big chance ofhis life almost came when he was to makea premier with Mary Garden, but 'gotchiseled out of it at the last minute bysomebody more in the know.'

"George Fisher is in the grocery businessout in Cleveland. Says he spent a year anda half behind the counter dishing outbutter, spinach, and other things that belong in a store. Then took a rest and wenttarpon fishing in the Everglades. . . .

"Carnell has had quite a checkeredcareer, so they report. He is quoted as making good, but there are conflicting statements. He has been working for the Telephone Company selling phones. His successhas been so phenomenal that he has beenpushed from town to town along theHudson, so as not to crowd any one placewith too much equipment. In a brief statemen} he has given his sales tactics to thepublic. 'Goes to school in the morning witha pocketful of pennies. Distributes themfreely to the children. Calls in the afternoon, and when Mother is slamming thedoor in his face, little Jack comes runningout and says, "Oh Ma—that's the nice manthat gave me a penny this morning!"—Sale is practically closed. Try it.'"

That's quite a shovelful to be picked up by one fellow, even a furniture mover. Speaking of Carnell, all reports are most interesting and incomprehensible. We had a letter on the letterhead—and a very arty letterhead it was, too—of the "Elverhoj Colony of Artists and Craftsmen, Miltonon-Hudson, N. V.," dated "1932," which was a most unintelligible letter. We call you to witness:

"I've sold everything, with various disinterested groups, from telephones toTschaihowskies. Which last has the presenthold. Manager, no less, of the above letterhead. Practically partner. And even makingmoney. People still seem to have the provender for what isn't necessary. Ye public,spend heartily on things you don't need,I say. . . .

"I've managed to eke out a precariousexistence from one-half of one per centcommission and a little fairly professionalwriting, to miss my old jugular companions,to become horribly enamored of a likeable wench who Sorbonnes, and to learnto eat cucumbers. And how's your folks?"

And finally there is a paragraph in a letter from Haffenreffer today, as follows:

"Last week-end, I flew over to Hamp andmet Brad Carnell for a scheduled reunion.You can be sure that new fuel for flesh-potswas withal forthcoming. Brad is a dyedin-the-wool real estate salesman. His chiefjob now is the naming of streets on hisForest Hills development. He now appreciates the task which the man whonames the Pullman cars has, as he claimsto have run short of names several timesover."

Hank Embree has just spent a few days in Hanover and departed with his wife for Boston, armed with the addresses of John French, Si Chandler, and other Thirtymen. Hank, who has been making a wide sweep in an automobile health tour with his wife, reports a state of lethargy ambng Chicago Thirtyteers, who are almost never seen in public places. Hank has been doing the Gaspe Peninsula in his grand tour.

Fred Chase reports a new address on Long Island—39-16 Gosman Ave., Sunnvside, L. I.—at which cheerful place he, Jinny, and the Class Baby have taken up residence. If the photograph of the Class Baby gets finished in time, we will run it in with the class notes.

Another of your great tourists, Harry Condon, appeared one day from the Mid- dle West, about to go to Nova Scotia. Harry, the railroad man, after spending a winter in the shops in Aurora, was recompensed by being given great tours to conduct, to Banff, Alaska, the Grand Canyon, etc., during the summer. He had no more news about the reticent Chicagoans than Hank had.

Fitz (B. T.) Fitzpatrick came in with news about the law school at Harvard before things had really got started down there. He reported Ryan, Rich, and Ela as having made the Legal Aid Bureau, a "second top honor" distinction, whose recipients go about in the courts defending folk who have no cash for a "regular" lawyer. Funkhouser, Fitz says, has come "in from the West," where he has been teaching at the Valley Ranch School, to go to Princeton for a Ph.D. Smug Ryder is engaged, Fletcher is making Carter's Ink, and Water Polo Harrison is at Penh— these being further Fitzpatrick items.

Joe Golan is the lad who is doing a Horatio Alger to the top. Joe is now head of the Cine Department at the Eastman Kodak plant in Rochester, bossing a couple of hundred men like Simon Legree. He was going through Hanover to the mountains. Jim Clark, he said, is teaching at Central High in Springfield, and Paul Shanley is still the Gulf Oil man in Rochester.

Fran Horn continues to send colorful postcards, the last one from Teheran, Persia. We still recommend Fran to philatelic Thirtymen—he is the ideal correspondent for stamp-collectors.

We have all sorts of address changes which we might exploit if we weren't getting pretty anxious to get through with this stuff and get into the French-Booth contributions. Just to mention a few, however, there is Dick Royce as department manager for the May Company in Cleveland; Charlie Raymond, accountant for the N. E. Tel. and Tel. Co., with office at 50 Oliver St., Boston; Arch Clark with the Arrow-Hart-Hegeman Company in Hartford; Walt Birnie as an "engineer" with the United Shoe Machinery Company in Beverly, Mass.; Ed Herz, salesman for the Liberty Insurance Company in New York; Lowell Lomax as swimming teacher for the board of education of New York city; Hughie Mitchell carrying on as a journalist on the Everett News in Everett, Wash.; Glenn Wallawalla Poorman as chemical engineer for Standard Oil in Baton Rouge; Horst Orbanowski, "material chaser" for the Bethlehem Shipbuilding Corporation in Quincy, Mass.; Pat Weaver, advertising, in Los Angeles; Frank Fowler, of Forest Hills, in the brokerage business on Lower Broadway; Walter Johnston, salesman of tire covers and advertising display in Detroit; Al Hayes back at the Princeton graduate school; Ted Seidman at the Rochester medical school; Bill Putnam at the Jefferson Medical College (he was glimpsed in Hanover a couple of weeks ago); and so forth.

Somewhere there is a misplaced note from Ensign Salisbury of the flying forces, which we may find before the next installment.

To get back to Hanover for one last item or two, there is Charlie Widmayer, who is adding much geniality and tone to the community socially and officially as director of publicity for the Athletic Council and assistant in the instruction of journalism. Did we ever report on the marriage of our Al Allyn to Mary Elizabeth Young, last June? It was a pleasant affair, anyway, and we were happy to be in St. Thomas' church at the time, to see Herb Chase playing usher, Mary Elizabeth looking her nuptial best, and Al taking it all pretty calmly, as those things go.

Finally, the Booth epistle, as follows:

THIS FROM BOB BOOTH

October 10,1932.

DEAR AL:

In answer to your letter of October 6 requesting a communication of some description from me for the ALUMNI MAGAZINE, I can only say thought I do choose to write,you have made a very poor choice in yourcorrespondent. However, you have asked,and your asks are commands.

Concerning myself, there is little ornothing to write. Therefore I shall restrictmyself to that same little or nothing. Iattend law school at New York University,thereby taking my second year in law atthat institution, and my third year in thestudy of law. Which year, I hope, and I'msure you will join me in this hope for it willcost you so little, is my last. And so muchfor the little.

For the above mentioned nothing, I usethe words of James (Schnozzle) Durante,featured in the current cinema (movie)"The Phantom President," and say, "ifyou think I am going to stay here andtalk about nothing, you're crazy."

You suggest I talk about other people.I should like to do so, but the drawbackon that score is I either never see anyone,or if I should track any of these elusiveThirty birds down they never tell me anything. Out of revenge for such slights I am,tempted to write what I think about someof those birds. However, those thoughtsmight lead to lawsuits or murder, and as1 do not care to be the object of either Ishall restrain myself.

On one of my various peregrinationsabout downtown New York this summer, Iran into Gene Zagat. It is my belief heclaimed to be doing something about advertising for a small-town paper called"The Times." Another day, and I believe itwas a sunny one, I accosted Fred Page onone of those suburban by-paths with whichNew York is crowded. He said he was welland seemed happy. I did not think he desired more, so I questioned him no further.Mr. Page will sell you insurance if youwant any. Bob Bottome was my adversary at bridge one evening in the EastEighties. He made no statements, but Isuspected the advertising business did nottake all his time.

Bud French serves his dad in businessdown town. He claims he was on a tourthis summer. This smacked of the traveling salesman, so I said no more. I devotethis paragraph to him, Mr. Secretary, because he has given me the following datato aid in appeasing your mammoth appetite for Thirty gossip:

That Paul Freeman is selling classifiedads for the New York World Telegram;

That Pete Callaway is in the advertisingdepartment of Conde Nast publications,and that he is maybe thought of as Mr.Callaway of Jackson Heights, L. I.;

That Carl Haffenreffer had the goodfortune to acquire a new car this summerthe day following the conflagration of hisprevious one;

That Jack Wooster has made two tripsto Bermuda this summer; that the first ofthese trips was made with Bob Winter,who on return therefrom changed hisresidence from New York to the pasturesof Newcastle, Pa.;

That Jack DeVeau will entertain severalclass luminaries at tea the afternoon ofthe Harvard game;

That Shaw Cole is missing a broken wristby reason of his inability to cope with oneDodge car and crank;

That Ave Raube is working in Kresge'sin Newark;

That Bill Blanchard assists his dad inSouth Orange;

That Al McGrath continues to advancein the commercial credit department ofthe National City Bank (I have called on Altwo evenings this summer to no avail,probably at the bank);

That Dave Lewis married recently;That Chub Mclnnes works for Erie'sRailroad;

That Phil Troy is working with LehmanBrothers.

Thanks, Bud. And you thank him too,Inskip.

Art Hayes has a palatial establishment inChelsea, New York city. Your correspondent is a temporary roomer of his. Thereforeyour correspondent can only say that ArtHayes is working for the New York Tel.This lad of Boston and Salem offers the following information:

George Covell going great with RobertA. Van Alst Jr., insurance agent, at 100East 42d. Plans marriage late this fall toMiss Norma Rubino. Both living in Pelham Manor.

Johnny Kountz athletic director at Letchworth Village—institution for the feebleminded, of which Dr. Charles Little,famous Dartmouth football player of thenineties, is superintendent.

Les Godwin: New York Telephone Company, in Brooklyn. Also Austin Moore.

Paul Clarke, Chase Bank, married onSaturday, October 8, to Miss Mildred F.Gundrum, of Brooklyn. Glenn Bartramwas best man.

Thank you, Art. Thank him, Inskip.

To you, our beloved and garrulous Secretary, I offer no kind thoughts for asking meto do this, but I do send you my hopes forall the best in the new status you haveplaced yourself in, namely marriage.

Your obedient servant, BOB BOOTH.

THIS FROM JOHN FRENCH

3 Sedgwick Road,Cambridge,October 9.

DEAR AL,

I remember somewhat vaguely an agreement to the effect that I was to send yousome dope about the boys in this neck ofthe woods for your colyum. Unfortunately,I can't do it right now because I have onlyseen about two Thirtyteers and have heardnothing about the rest. The beginning ofthe year is a little too rushed for muchsitting around in idle converse. Quite afew of the Law School crowd seem to havespent the summer in law offices drawingup contracts and bills in equity, but thatdoesn't make very exciting reading. Lateron, perhaps, I may be able to round up afew more spicy items.

You didn't do yourself justice in yourOctober article. In fact you omitted thebiggest event of the summer: have youoverlooked the fact that you yourself, butrecently, joined the benedicts? I suspect itis your own retiring nature, an unfortunatetrait in a Secretary.

have been trying to count noses in theLaw School. The record of our class ispractically perfect. The only man not accounted for is AI Smith. I can't trace him.Opinion has it that he is too clever to haveflunked out, but that he got fed up andleft—for which many of us, myself included,would not blame him in the slightest. Forthe sake of your files, I might list those ofour class who have survived thus far. Thirdyear: Browning, Ela, Fitzpatrick, Keller,Loeser, McFarland, McLaughlin, Reinhart,Rodi, Ryan, Sanders, Scribner, Sturman,Whipple, Wood. Second year: Kohn, Seldon, Wiggin, and myself. Fred Scribnerkept his job on the "Review" without anytrouble, and he is joined there by NedKent '31, a large feather for Dartmouth.Sanders and McFarland were not far behind, with high B's, and there may havebeen others.

Incidentally, I think the new ALUMNIMAGAZINE is pretty good except for thecolor of the outside, which is terrible—itlooks like a church weekly. How aboutusing your influence for a darker shade ofgreen?

The only other person I have seen recently, beside yourself, is Si Chandler, whodropped in at Woodstock with one of hisgals the week-end of the Norwich game.Si has graduated from driving a light Mackto folding draperies in Copley Square,which doesn't give him quite the sameopportunities for surprising his friends. Ididn't see the Norwich game because I wascalling on Cal Coolidge, who committedhimself to the extent of saying that evenwhen in the White House he took evaporated milk in his coffee.

Yours,JOHN.

Secretary, Administration Building, Hanover, N. H