Class of 1918
Diary of your own Secretary Pepys: Finding news scarce my wife and I headed the car towards New York the last week in January. Around to the Dartmouth Club to bump into John A. Thayer. He allowed as how he is publishing the RicLgefieldPress, a weekly newspaper, and running an advertising and printing business in connection therewith. John makes his home in New Canaan, Conn., and reports a 12-year-old son who looks like a future fullback. .... Private operatives reported that Wm. E. Shellman is an insurance broker in Wilmette, ILL., boasting a pretty 15-months'-old daughter, Bernice Gladys, who well may be queen of Winter Carnival some day.
Heard that Clarence H. Lewis was with the Travelers Insurance Company at 30 East 42d St. in New York, and that Ed Garvey was a real estate broker at 37 East 18th St., same city. And some lil" bird whispered that Elton E. Johnson is an engineer with the Ohio Casualty Insurance Co. in Hamilton, Ohio. Yes—and word from the other end of the country—Joe Converse is national advertising manager of The Timberman, a trade journal going to lumber manufacturers, loggers, etc. Joe can be reached at 329 Oak St. in Portland, Oregon.
Happened upon Tom Tarrant and had a nice chat with him. Tom still calls Boston his permanent home, but is spending most of his time in New York, writing plays and radio skits. He has done quite a bit of work for the Vanities, W. C. Fields, etc., and is one of the class bachelors .... glimpsed Steve Mahoney, publishers' representative (1203 Graybar Bldg., N. Y.), lunching with some big butter and advertising men, and heard that Gus Gustafson, habitat Louisville, had been written up in the insurance journals for some smooth selling work he's been doing for the Union Central.
Had lunch with Ernie Earley, your genial treasurer. He bemoans the fact that some of you Eighteeners have failed so far to kick through with the $3.50 now due for class dues and a year's subscription to this MAGAZINE. Obey that impulse and mail a check to Ernie, at 16 Court St., Brooklyn. Ernie showed me a letter from Stew Teaze (who lives in the Far East). Stew enclosed his check, incidentally. Writes Stew Teaze: "The States won't seeme until 1936, probably in the fall. Haven'tseen a football game since 1924, exceptEnglish rugby. So hope to sign up for a fewseats for that season. I can recommend theEast to anyone who wants to keep young.You'll probably find more young old menout here than most other places, or theydon't live that long."
In New York, too, I saw a letter from Bill (Wm. B.) Wright of Seventy-One Ranch, Deeth, Nevada. States Bill: "I amnow keeping a moving picture record ofour operations on the range and on theranches, so that at some time in the futurethe gang may have a close-up of life in theFar West as actually carried on and not asportrayed by the commercial pictures."
When Dean Laycock spoke at the big New York alumni dinner at the Plaza on January 18, some fifteen or twenty Eighteeners were on hand. I couldn't check on all that transpired but learned that Johnny O'Gara, now management counselor at Macy's, was on deck, also Howie Park, the Standard Oil legal light. Ru Hesse showed up with a fearsome Hessian moustache. Dave Skinner, National City Bank executive, and Ernie Earley made life miserable for Paul Miner (Chase Bank), who tried to depart early. Dave wasn't particularly happy over paying a waiter $5 for a cocktail and getting no change.
H. Warren Wilson (proud father of a new daughter) upheld the traditions of the better element by arriving at the affair in a tuxedo. Bob Morrison, Dusossoit Duke, Walter Ross, Phil Everett, Fritz Cassebeer were also in attendance. Maybe others; this report comes secondhand.
Feeling that Stan Jones might be a bit tired from "telling the truth" every day in Gimbel's advertisement, your Secretary phoned him and asked him to pen a few paragraphs in his inimitable vein. Stan came through, and so now we can begin the quotes.
"The eastern seaboard was recentlyhonored by a visit from Dr. CommodoreT. P. Campbell, of the Denver Yacht Club.T. P. was on to New York to confer withthe U.S.S.R. re a J. O.B. which the Russianswanted him to T.A.K.E. (he says). Something about being the No. i Boy on thebiggest copper refining plant which theSoviets are about to break ground for.Negotiations are still hanging fire, the Dr.holding out for more dough, vodka forbreakfast, a room with heat in it, and freeround-trip passage for the Grand LakeYacht Club. The Dr. has bought a plane,and avers that he now heads the FlyingestFamily in Colorado. To which we averthat maybe he does—while he's up in theair.
"Friends of Joe Flo Duke (ne FlorimondJosef Hassenpfeffer Dusossoit) are concerned over the ex-gridster's failure to ringup the annual change in his handle. Letterscontinue to reach him at the offices of Fortune (alt. 12,000 ft., Chrysler Bldg.,N. Y. C.), under the last reported spelling,which was 'Duke.' What the hell, is the oldboy slipping?
"Ned Ross, the only remaining bankerunder the late Mitchell regime to escapebeing put on the hot seat in Wash., D. C.,is a proud, loud father. This may not benews to some, yet it may be to others. Withall news so scarce, we cannot take a chance.
"Wart McElwain, the late 'Knight of theRoaring Road,' has quit smoking and frequently goes about the streets unrecognizedby old friends, to whom a Camel hangingon the Wart's lower lip was just anotherfeature. One thing is certain—it hasn'twasted him down to any shadow yet.
"J. Francis Clahane, the Decimal Beagle,did a neat and straightforward job on hisfirst rolls-and-coffee appeal for the classAlumni Fund. With commendable andignified reserve, the Moody nevertheless made his points clear, leavingthe reader in no doubt as to his spiritualstatus for failure to support the class, nomatter in how small a way. It is rumoredthat Clahane's classmate and co-worker,D. Francis Shea, was so moved by theprinted eloquence that he revised his willand cut off his relatives in favor of a newdormitory at Hanover, the same to beknown as 'Erin-go-Bragh' Hall."
And that's the end of the quotes. Frank Clahane was out of the city, but I know he'd like you reminded of the class dutyand yours—in kicking in on the Alumni Fund. It's high time 1918 made a decent showing, even if there are blamed few millionaires in the class. Two checks you should write: one to Earley for class dues, the other to Frank Clahane for the Fund.
Possibly there's some late dope reposing on your Secretary's desk in Atlanta. If so, we'll shoot it in the April issue. I do know that Ed Booth (still residing in Hanover) has promised to write us about what's been going on up at Hanover, of especial interest to Eighteeners, and Jake Bingham is overdue with some gossip from the Boston contingent.
These lines are being penned in Washington, D. C., on the way back to God's Country. Just phoned Clarence Opper. Heard he was assistant general counsel of the Federal Farm Loan Bank. Finally located him at the U. S. Treasury Department. It seems Clarence has been stepping up! He's been married for two years and is proving that government officials do not have a snap by working Saturday afternoons and Sundays. At least he did the week-end I was here, although I understand he took time out to lunch with Milkman Hood, some weeks ago, when Harvey blew in from Boston to set F.D.R. right on the milk code.
I've made so many pleas in this column for help in writing up newsy notes that-well, anyway, the response hasn't been overwhelming. Suits me if you ducks only want a paragraph or two of class notes, instead of a column or two. Write your own ticket. Can't help but believe we'd all like better class solidarity. If that's your vote, write three letters, please: one to Ernie Earley (class dues), one to Frank Clahane (class fund), and one to the secretary—conductor of this column.
Secretary, 419 Palmer Bldg., Atlanta, Ga.
