Class of 1919
Well, here it is Armistice Day and the football season well on its way. We feel very definitely, and most of the people with whom we have talked feel, that the new football deal is working out hunkydory indeed. And while Earl Blaik and his staff have been struggling with their many problems the class has been having its usual round of activities which always tie up to the football season.
The night before the Harvard game we had our usual Boston class dinner at the University Club. Since prohibition that organization has turned so many of its private dining rooms into ladies' cocktail parlors and what not that the various classes who wanted to get together on that festive night found accommodations extremely limited, and most of them were obliged to double up. Phil Bird managed by some very special maneuvering to get us a place by ourselves, even if it was way down in a sub-cellar in what used to be an old baminton court. While it was fine being by ourselves, it was very difficult to keep a group as democratic as are the Boston 19ers from wandering off through the building in search of everything from Jean Harlow to a Middlebury man of the class of 1903.
Still there were always enough to create a modest din, and everybody, whether roaming or back home for a drink, had a swell time from start to finish. The more than usual migratory inclinations of the boys made it even more difficult to get anything like an accurate list of those who were there, but among them were the following: Al Crosby, Dutch Guy, Chuck Eaton, Phil Bird, George Clark '17, Bill Hoard all the way from Wisconsin, Fat Jackson, Russ Potter, Bob Roland, Rock Hayes, Hawka Hawks, Al Googins, Jack McCrillis, Herb Fleming, Art Havlin, Spen Dodd, John Chipman, Bill White, walking around as only a doctor would, on a leg he had broken three days before, Louie Munro, Doc Carrigan, Johnson '21, Bob Proctor, Jim Davis, Ray Stevens, and a lad named Vanderhoff, Tufts '21.
MYSTERIOUS BUNDLE
There was as always much hilarity of assorted kinds and a hatful of amusing events. The farthest north in these was Louie Munro, in the later hours carefully carrying around a large carton. Louie, who has attended these affairs for years at great expense, stated that it was what was left of a carton of something, and that he was going to get it home if it was the last thing he did. He had learned from experience that it wouldn't do to set it clown even for a minute. Finally Fat Jackson and Bill Hoard decided that it must be precious stuff indeed, and forced the cover open only to disclose that the box was completely and entirely empty. Mun is still trying to figure out just how that happened.
The next day the class and its wife gathered at the Hotel Commander in Cambridge for the class luncheon and movies of our Fifteenth Reunion in June. This party was very pleasant indeed, even though there were a number of details which we feel sure can be improved on another time. The return postcards indicated that about thirty would be there, and the count was nearer sixty. This apparently threw the commissary department into a panic, for there wasn't even enough food for thirty hearty '19ers. Being the father of two healthy youngsters, we have come to be fairly fast on the snatch, and we personally came out pretty well, but we were one of a considerable number who got to feel sorry for the Googins who descended just too late on each successive serving. The buffet technique is just not theirs. We heard that Chipman had explained their particular difficulty to the hotel management, and that they had broken down completely and refunded two dollars, which Goog can get by applying to John, if John didn't spend it for sandwiches at the game.
The class movies were splendid, and Jack McCrillis deserves the thanks of the whole class for making such a fine record of our Fifteenth Reunion. They were run off with but a single hitch, that being when we, an extremely inexperienced operator, turned the lights off and the machine on after very careful preparation, only to find that we had left the machine in reverse. There were a few Nugget-like hoots and cat-calls, but for the most part everyone was extremely patient, and the picture a great success. As complete a list as possible of those who were there will appear in our next Nineteen News, along with what went on in New York at the Night Before the Yale Game Party, whom we saw at the Bowl, and a few odd and very personal items about a number of people.
Till then, don't forget the party which Fat Jackson is swinging the night before the Princeton game in New York. It will be something not to miss from all we hear. Locale, the Dartmouth Club. Anytime after five.
Secretary, 87 State St., Framingham Center, Mass.
