Class of 1918

Soon after these alleged news notes are mailed to the editor, your Secretary will be headed to the annual secretaries' meeting in Hanover, May n-12. On the trip, I hope to see quite a few Eighteeners and to gather enough interesting slants to make possible an issue of "The Roar," provided Treasurer Ernie o.k.'s such an item.

Curt Tripp, whose medical practice has received considerable free advertising in these columns (none begrudged), is threatening to stage an unofficial Eighteen Reunion at Hanover in June. If any others are planning on being in Hanover during Commencement week, get in touch with the doctor at 416 County St., New Bedford, Mass.

The March issue of that commendable Dartmouth publication of the Association of Northern California, "Squeaks from the Golden Gate," carried quite a little tribute to George Stoddard's youngster, Deborah Ann. Wish George would keep up the pace he once set as a contributor to our columns! How about it, Hal Ellis, Pete Conlon, and some of you other wild and woolly Westerners? Can't we have an occasional peep out of you?

We realize we've been giving a certain insurance man a whale of a lot of free publicity in this column during recent months —but doggone it, Ernie Earley has surely crashed through with the news items and deserves thanks. His latest seems to be in a sort of sarcastic vein: "I can hardly wait totell you about the most delightful classdinner and the largest gathering we havehad here in New York in years. It tookplace at the Dartmouth Club the night ofApril 18. Save for a very light babble ofvoices and the musical tinkling of glassesat the bar, the Club was more or less likea morgue until the 'lB class finally arrived.I thought that I would spend the eveningby myself, possibly calculating the law ofprobability of the American experiencemortality table, when who should appearon the threshold but good old Chris Christgau, another insurance man. And here wewere together, and alone, prepared to celebrate this outstanding class dinner of theseason by possibly trying to sell one another an accident policy or a health policy.Finally the last and final member of theclass group came in, good old apothecaryFritz Cassebeer. And no evening could havebeen more enjoyable for Chris and myself,because Fred sat peaceably by, offering awilling pair of ears, though not listening,to the insurance babble that followed. Incidentally Fred has an article in nextmonth's Field and Stream on the moralityof mixing and remixing iris with gladiolas.Fred is apparently an authority on thatsubject here in New York."

Ernie also sends us an imposing looking brief by our own Louie Lee, stating: "Itshows the efforts of Louie to do a JimLandos on the Fletcher-Rayburn Bill." .... I don't know Jim Landos; wonder if Ernie could have in mind Jeem Londos the wrestler? And since Louie's memo is marked confidential and I don't know anything about stock exchange control anyway—oh well! Let it pass.

But he does shoot along a letter from George Hull, Hanover's Maurice Chevalier. To quote in part from George's letter: "Here's my check. (Ed. note—Ernie has got to receive a heluva lot of similar checks or else the class won't be in such-such shape!) In spite of the crisis I am mostsuccessful. I owe lots of money both inFrance and America, which is real proof ofinternationalism and fair play. As far aswe know, there are not more than nineDartmouth men here in Paris. Many traveland we only managed to get three togetherfor lunch recently. They are Robert Davis'03, Ted Marriner, Kit Claeys, and KippyTuck '14, Bob Frothingham '15, JiggsDonahue '15, Kennedy and me '18, and"achap named Morris or Norris whom wehaven't met yet, and of course Mr. Tuck,who is now at Monte Carlo.

"We've been pretty careless so far, andso I'm going to put the Dartmouth Clubofficially at my place, 95 Ave. Henri Martin,where I have a new small house and intendto stay, the Lord, the bailiff, and the taxcollector willing. About two-thirds of theAmericans here in '29 have gone home, andthe pickings will be thin here for twoyears. Nevertheless I'm always interested inany business proposition, and after 13 yearshere, know my way around. Must startputting some money aside to send youngDick Hull to Dartmouth."

Ed Booth will be glad to hear your Secretary has received quite a few bouquets for him on the article he wrote for our April column on "Changes an Eighteener Would Notice if He Dropped In at Hanover." By the way, before we forget to. mention it, this will be the last "MAG" and therefore the last column until October. There may be an issue of "The Roar" this summer, if enough of you ducks express a desire to have one, by mailing your class dues (and ALUMNI MAGAZINE combined) check for $3.50 to before-mentioned Mr. Earley, at 16 Court St., Brooklyn. If you don't, it's okeydoke with me.

Frank Clahane, our demon Alumni Fund collector, submits a letter from the one and only "Fat" Hardie (Carnegie Steel Cos., Cleveland): "You and Dan Shea feeding the malicious propaganda to the multitude probably do not know what a depression means, but believe me, the steel pedlers do. I see Bill Bemis quite often, anda number in this neck of the woods mustbe getting into the toils of the law, as hefairly oozes prosperity, having just boughta new home out in Shaker Heights. HalDoty is in Dayton closing up a bank, andJay Pearce must be busier than the proverbial one-armed paper-hanger with thehives, as this is the heavy season in thewall-paper business and I. have not seenhim in the last six months."

Prexy Harvey Hood, the Boston milkman, announces a class dinner in Boston the night of Monday, May 14, probably at the University Club. This event will have come and gone by the time you peruse these lines; but you can bet your Secretary is looking forward to sitting in 011 it and chewing the fat-for I'll make this dinner on the way back to Atlanta from the secretaries' meeting at Hanover Harvey also lets us know that: "I sawChauncey Hood recently; he is still in theoil business and living just outside of Portland, Me. Also ran into Mel Breed, who isworking nights for the New England Telephone and Telegraph Company."

Here at Ed Felt's home in Buffalo-en route to Hanover—find a typewriter—and obey that urge to fill up more space. The other day in Akron, Ohio, had a most enjoyable evening with the Jack Slabaughs and the Sol Blooms. And a good egg from 1916 with his frau, Bill McKenzie. One of those dinners that a traveling man like your Secretary can truly appreciate; then dancing and wining until late in therather early in the morning. Jack and Sol certainly look prosperous; maybe we did make a mistake by not becoming a lawyer or an investment man! Sol opened the portals wide at one of the department stores for me (the boy must have influence), and Jack's dinner was something to tempt Eighteeners journeying near Akron to drop in with or without provocation. .... What I'm trying in my feeble way to pass along is the fact that I had a heluva good time in Akron.

A brief stop in Cleveland found Hal Doty away over in Dayton on business. Fat Hardie, recently recovered from a battle with gout, was out entertaining some buyers; but located Bill Bemis. Bill holds forth in a swelelegant office, along with Newt Baker and other prominent lawyers, and is quite active in Dartmouth alumni circles out Cleveland way.

On to Buffalo—to be made perfectly at home by Ed Felt's charming wife. And who should blow in last night for dinner (driving 45 miles over from Medina, N. Y.) but Tom Robbins and the Missus. Furthermore, Tom brought his college mem book along with him and Ed, Tom, and I had a big time trying to pick out who was who in an 'lB picture taken during our sophomore year. If you think that stunt is easy —try it out. Tom is still manufacturing plumbing supplies and running a foundry over in Medina. He has a daughter about a year and a half old.

Tom brought news of Bob Munson and Hugh Whipple, fellow Medinians. Hugh is going great guns with the Niagara Sprayer & Chemical Cos. over in Middleport, N. Y„ and among other products manufactures an insecticide that is just about the best thing out for roses. (Gardeners take notice and request samples.) Hugh has two sons The baby specialist of Medina, however, is old Bob Munson (Doctor Munson to you). Bob is married and although he has no youngsters of his own, we gather he is doing a great job keeping all the young Medina kids hale and hearty. We learned also that Whipple is an esteemed member of the Medina Board of Education, whereas Tom Robbins lays claim to the distinction of having recently resigned from the volunteer fire department. Like most of us, Tom married a young lady several thousand percent better looking than himself.

Some Buffalo notes: Ed Felt and I drove the Georgia Plymouth over to Arch Robson's, but failed to find him in town. Were told he was over in Canada. A banker skipping across the international line? Then on to Zach Taylor's to find the executive secretary of the Buffalo planning board spending a quiet Sunday afternoon at home with his wife, two boys, and a girl. After considerable "do you remember when" conversation—in which Mrs. Taylor helped out considerably since she hails originally from Hanover—we drove over to Don Scully's. Don is happily married with two strapping youngsters. He's been in Buffalo the past three years, after twelve years spent running sugar plantations in Cuba. Now he's operating the Leggett's Creek Coal Cos., in Buffalo—and looking as fit as the day he cavorted on Alumni Field.

Ed Felt—when interviewed—modestly (believe it or not) stated he had been written up enough in these columns. Nonetheless your inquiring reporter must chronicle the fact that Ed now heads the Moss-Chase advertising agency, quite the advertising organization of these parts. One of his clients is a brewery—good beer, may I add? Efforts on your Secretary's part to sell Ed, Don, and Zach on the idea of joining this jaunt of mine up to Hanover failed. Reckon the trio is making too much money right now to pull out from Buffalo. Oh well, maybe we Southerners will get a break one of these days, too, after the effete East has gobbled up gobs of returning prosperity.

And so—on to Hanover again—and maybe some more news notes will be corralled. They could be incorporated very easily in a summer issue of "The Roar." You are invited to cast your vote. However, Ernie Earley recognizes only those votes which are accompanied with the customary class dues check for $3.50. How mercenary these insurance men are!

With this column, your Secretary rounds out his first year on the job. It's been fun, and there have been just enough kickbacks to warrant the hope that the class is drawing closer together. Old '18 took it on the beak with the war—the busting up of our senior and "organization" year—but the old fight is still there! We don't have enough of the boys as subscribers to the ALUMNI MAGAZINE, however. Won't you, therefore, do this? Pass your copy along to some other Eighteener, Tell him we're planning better and bigger class news notes next fall, and that he ought to get in touch with Ernie Earley at 16 Court St., Brooklyn, and get properly lined up to receive the magazine regularly.

Thanks to all of you who have dropped me encouraging letters, with news and gossip, and have thus made these columns possible.

Secretary, 419 Palmer Bldg., Atlanta, Ga.