Class of 1925
Well, the Big Tenth has come and gone, but the pleasant memories will linger for many a year.
About 160 returned for the event, which is a new record for future Tenners to shoot at. You have received a wealth of news items via the special bulletins and Alumni Fund letters. We feel definitely sorry for those who couldn't attend, so we'll devote this number to a few highlights in and about Hanover June 14 to 17.
The long distance prize unquestionably belongs to Dave Ames, who brought his charming English wife to Hanover all the way from Colombo, Ceylon, for her first visit to the States. They motored up from N. Y. with the Hartens and Chaunce Hawley Second prize belongs to an absent member, Andy Edson, whose generous check to the Alumni Fund, together with his letter, were welcome arrivals from the Far East on the morning of June 15. We quote his letter in part: "Mukden, Man-churia, May 22, 1935. Dear Theseductive literature concerning the Carebus Hunt to be conducted at Hanover,Shanty Shane, and neighboring bars, hasjust penetrated these wilds, and has produced nostalgic twinges and a slight thirst.Alas, that 12,000 miles and mutters connected with the local oil monopoly shouldprevent my witnessing the empty beerbarrels floating in the Shanty Shane pond.I shall console myself with copious draftsof 'sake' on June 16 and aim for the 'Furious Fifteenth' in 1940 if the local banditslet me survive. My check for the '55 Alumni Fund is enclosed, in corroborationof Hovey's view that roaming the girdledearth does not entirely dispel the spirit.As to biographical notes: During a trip toTokyo last winter I did a little outingclubbing. The Japanese are taking up skiing with great enthusiasm and have developed skiers and ski fields fast. I joineda party that went from the Embassy toNikko and Yumotot. At present, hotel accommodations at the ski fields leave a lotto be desired, from the foreign point ofview—very little heat and Japanese foodonly. I understand improvements are inorder for another year, and I shall try itagain then. Mukden winters are very disappointing—cold as a Siberian mother-in-law's kiss, but no snow. Best wishes for thereunion—BANZAl—Andy Edson."
Back to reunion: Friday night, a gathering of the clan at Woodward-Smith-Ripley, our headquarters, augmented by Pete Haffenreffer's excellent Narragansett ale, and aided and abetted by various and sundry accordion players, etc. Saturday morning—a ball game with 1930. Things were going very much against us when it seemed as though the heavens let loose— from the direction of Webster Hall came an ancient touring car, more or less skillfully driven by Jock Brace. Atop the hood perched Parker Merrow and Pete Blodgett, with two very active shotguns, while spread all over the tonneau and fenders was an eight-piece Hill-Billy band from Orono, Me., playing "Turkey in the Straw" and other modern pieces. It was one of the high points of a high week-end.
.... Then came the alumni luncheon— we had so many in attendance that a number of us had to wait for seating accommodations. Then the Dartmouth-Cornell ball game, followed by a little relaxation and the class meeting, movies, etc After some fast and furious nominating and balloting, the following were chosen to guide the destinies of the class for the next five years:
Class agent, Horton Conrad; executive committee, Curt Abel, Whit Campbell, Bud Petrequin, Pete Kelsey, and Ford Whelden; treasurer, Pete HafEenreffer; corresponding secretary, Ken Hill; secretary, Pete Blodgett.
Then came a song-fest and supper at the Dartmouth Alumni Outing Clubhouse by Occom Pond, inspired by Brace's bracing punch and the Hill-Billy band, plus several individual efforts at entertaining. The late evening might have tapered off to something slightly resembling a normal and natural ending if some inspired soul had not organized a square dance in front of the Inn. Fire, flood, or other acts of God can be coped with, but there was no reckoning with that square dance. Traffic was held up for hours while the welkin rang with shouts of joyous natives at al. Miraculously enough, the crowd was finally dispersed without resorting to either machine guns or tear bombs, al- though these measures had been looked upon as expedient at more than one point in the festivities. With the scattering of the ravenous rabble, some to feast on eggs fried by the roadside in the light of the rising sun, while yet others drained the dregs from that flowing bowl, peace descended, quiet reigned once more, and came the dawn that ushered in the Sabbath A quiet Sunday at Shanty Shane rounded out the official program of the finest Tenth we could hope to have.
Here and there: How did Frank Her shey and Don Hunt acquire sprained ankles ? ? ? ? where did Roily Barnfather acquire his entertaining English accent ?? ? ? how did Terry McGaughan's pants fall overboard at Shanty Shane Pond (the keys to his car went down to the bottom, and on Monday the car was still at Fairlee).
We announce with a mixed feeling or pride and regret that Jim Howe was prevented from coming back by the arrival of seven and one half pounds of James Howe IV.
Your melancholy, over-worked, and under-nourished Secretary has at last cracked under the strain of it all, and from now on his literary burdens—which are, by the way, his biggest—will be lightened by Ken Hill, who, as you will note above, was elected corresponding secretary at class meeting. Your new corresponding secretary will try to prove capable but needs your help, so if you have a change of address or any news item, please send them along to Kenneth B. Hill, Room 615, 75 Federal St., Boston, or to Blodgett, at 67 Milk St., Boston, and we will endeavor to become recording angels as will make your respective and respectable—we hope —bosoms swell with pride.
Secretary, 67 Milk St., Boston
