Class of 1927
Nineteen thirty-three has sure started out fine as far as we are concerned. During the first month we received through Uncle Sam's postal service exactly three communications from members of the class. This being an increase of two hundred per cent over the last month of 1932, we feel the depression is practically over. Keep them coming, boys, and we could handle a few more without being actually swamped.
Shorty Oliver is now located in the Boston Federal Reserve Bank building, where he is representing his firm, Herrick, Smith, Donald, and Farley, in the income tax department. Or maybe it is the Reconstruction Finance Corporation, our reporter wasn't quite sure.
Doc Warren Butterfield is interning in surgery at the Boston City Hospital. Mert Cotton has recently announced his engagement. Who the young lady is or what the big date is, are still moot questions as far as we are concerned.
Paul Hannah has for some reason or other been keeping himself in the dark. However, murder will out, or something, for rumor now has it that he is a lawyer down around Washington, D. C.
Fred Auer has now well recuperated from his recent operation, and although still in Hanover with his family is, we understand, raring to build another dam.
Charlie Bartlett and wife moved up from their summer home in Plymouth about the middle of October, and are now living on West Cedar St., on Beacon .Hill in Boston.
Russ Blanchard has quite recently been married. When or to whom still seems to be a mystery as far as your scribe is concerned.
One of our official snoopers reports having seen Rog Bury running races with himself on New Year's Eve. Be that as it may, and we won't either contradict or affirm, we did have more or less of a 1927 party on that celebrated evening. There were present among others, Gus Cummings and wife, Rog Bury and wife, Bill St. Amant and wife, Charlie Bartlett and wife, and yours truly. Incidentally Roger chided us no end for an error of omission on our part which we hasten to correct. There was born to Roger and Marian Bury one Curtiss McGrew Bury on May 2, 1932.
Bob Stevens wishes everyone a Happy New Year from France, where he writes that he is enjoying his first issue of the ALUMNI MAGAZINE which had just arrived.
Frank Collier is still living in Melrose, and as far as we know is the aviation editor of the Boston American.
Natch Corregan, still living in Greater Boston, now works for the Saturday Evening Post.
Bob Page lives in Maiden, Mass. He is working for the New England Coke Company out of their Stoneham office.
Bill Stern has left the East and has moved to the Sunshine State. What particular city he has chosen we do not know, but we suggest that some of you "Golden Gaters" look him up and explain just why it never rains out there, or something.
The December dinner in Boston held on Wednesday, the 21st, was by far the most successful so far. There were about twenty members present, including Bill Spinney, Hans Paschen, Nibs Dowe, Joe Ryan, Phil Fowler, Rog Bury, Bill St. Amant, Gus Cummings, Bill Prescott, Joe Russakoff, Frank Coulter, Bob Dalrymple, Charlie Bartlett, Gordon Smith, Bob Williamson, and Johnny Blanchard. Bridge and poker with a proper amount of elbow exercise made it a most enjoyable evening for all concerned.
Jerry Covert, who as you know was awarded a tremendous loving cup for making the longest journey back to reunion (Billings, Montana, to Hanover, N. H.), had not been heard from since he pulled out of Boston sometime about last June 25, and had caused us no end of worry. Shortly before Christmas we received greetings from the prodigal with the following explanation, which makes everything all right. "A second reuniontook place in Chicago subsequent to theHanover occasion a?td that without my report to the big shot—a very grave error forthe Montana representative of the Such& So Board of Dartmouth's '27 class. International Harvester's internal revenue manKrogstad conducts open house at his palatial North Shore wigwam, furnishes gigglesoup to stags (pouring a tight line towearers of the green), but with ancientmemories aroused he introduces a lassfrom Smith. Yet, far from complicatingmatters of state (or of Si Morand's nation),the stag comes truly to life—for there wasOrth! While Henry, astride McGough'slatest soap box, reaches the zenith of reclaiming the salty sagebrush of the West,Banker Thompson interrupts by an abruptand mysterious departure. It develops thatRandall's political proclivities at theNational Convention divorce him fromthe exact location of his wife, but beforeOrth remastered his stride and beforeMorand had had his second rendezvouswith a dog (spitz), Thompson the sleuthreturns to present Mr. and Mrs. Randallsimultaneously. Now some two hours before Orth finishes his oration the businesssettles down to a stag again. But all toosoon this ethereal effervescence evaporatesin mad dashes to elevators by those fortunate enough to be employed. A greatbusiness—this reunion work! Ah, but that'snot all. The work is cumulative, if youknow what I mean, and the next afternoonfinds us at Wilmette, where Simon calledSamuel—Oh h—!—you savvy. Inhaling thesalty twang of the sage in Wyoming threedays behind schedule, I woke up."
Winnie Rodormer was married on January 4 to Miss Mary Elizabeth Edwards of Syracuse, N. Y.
Dud Bonsai and his wife were congratulated upon the birth of a baby daughter, who was born in November. Dud neglects to mention the exact date or the baby's name in his letter.
Gus Cummings, our energetic and conscientious class agent, has written us a letter asking for some publicity about the Alumni Fund in this column. Rather than try to put across Gus' ideas in our own words, we are going to take the liberty of reprinting his whole letter, because we think it far more to the point than anything we could say.
I am writing this letter to you with thehope that you will devote a little space tothe Alumni Fund in the next issue of the ALUMNI MAGAZINE. I was very much encouraged with the record of 1927 last year,both with respect to the relative showingof our class with other classes from 1920on, and to our position of the year before.However, this is a new year, and we havea bigger task ahead of us than ever before.You see, Doane, I have nothing to sell.It might be supposed that collecting for afund of this nature would be the easiesttype of work because of all that alumniloyalty and common spirit. Without doubtDartmouth enjoys a closer bond betweenherself and her alumni than almost anyother college. Once a Dartmouth man, always a Dartmouth man. This all may bevery true, but how much more loyaltyand gratitude shall I consign to a manwho has contributed generously to a callof this sort than to the one who has not?Hasn't every graduate taken away hisfull share of Dartmouth spirit from Hanover? Therefore it appears to me that Ican't offer anything to any '37 man that hehasn't already received. I've got nothingto sell.
Then, am I a collector, pure and simple?Collectors are armed with signed notes,promises to pay, and other helpful clubs.I can't go to you for example and say,"You have a note for twenty dollars due,covering this year's installment on yourshare of Dartmouth goodfellowship, excesscost of your education borne by the College, and sundry other items of loyal naturelong since received." No, there are nosuch signed contracts, and furthermore,were there such available, Dartmouthwould not deal in them.
Then on what basis can I go to everyTwenty-sevener and say, "We've got a jobto be done and I want you to pull yourshare?" After all, that's what has to bedone.
Have you ever stopped to consider,Doane, that our class is gradually maturing,and that other older classes have given agood many years of real service to Dartmouth. In short, we should be gettingready to take our turn at the wheel, notthat we have to because others will beready, but it is our privilege. Personal service and monetary contributions are theonly way I can express my loyalty. Roarsof approval in the stadia and a good oldquartet singing "As the Backs Go TearingBy" may make me hyper-conscious of aDartmouth heredity, but the little extraeffort I make to be of service brings thatglow of warmth that I guess makes forreal loyalty and pride.
ISo if you can tell the boys something ofhow I feel, and ask them all to write meand tell me how to do this job, I surewould appreciate it.
Secretary, 152 Waban Ave., Waban, Mass.
