Class of 1929
There being possible no better fashions in introductory paragraphs than the one at hand, we give you Mrs. John Roger Hubbard and Master John Hubbard Jr. Mrs. Hubbard was formerly Marion Walsh of Quincy. Her husband is a former Dartmouth athlete of the octopus variety, having indulged his savage instincts in that process of torture by water known as water polo. Mrs. Hubbard has reformed him to the extent of making a lumber salesman out of him and has provided him with the responsibility of rearing a boy child into civilized college material. Master John lives with his parents at 35 Upland Rd„ Quincy.
And here's another baby—Diane Langdon Weeks, born December 1,1934, to Elsie and Francis Weeks. The baby's announcement did not contain any fresh information concerning her father—that being quite beside the point as far as the young lady is concerned right now. But our records show that Frankie is a specification engineer with the Commonwealth Edison Company in Chicago, living in Evanston.
The first news from Dick Black in five years came in from Pekin, Ill., just too late for the January letter. It was good news, and the Bullet is entirely excused for past silence. For on December 8 he was married to Kathryn Isabelle Glasford, daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Samuel Theodore Glasford o'J Pekin.
We have been invited to two weddings: Rip Ripley is being married to Frances Winslow Drake, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Edward Drake of Brockton, on January 23. Rip is a district supervisor with the New England Tel. and Tel. in charge of the Cambridge exchange. We saw him in Harvard Square the other day, and if ever a beaming bridegroom ever existed Rip was he.
Jack Hubbard (Hubbard the golfer) will marry Susan Kent, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Edward Gruet Kent of Madison, N. J., on January 26.
Herm Liss was in Washington on business just before Christmas and reported meeting Dick Owsley in an elevator. Whereupon he had lunch with Swope and Owsley, and learned that Owsley is on the legal staff of the NRA compliance division assigned to the Chicago area, and that Swope is with the interpretation division of the Securities and Exchange Commission. Liss, by the way, is with Scudder, Stevens, and Clark, investment counselors, Boston.
Recently Bob Monahan sent us the following front page headline clipping from the Manchester (N. H.) Union of December 29: "Confirm Dudley W. Orr As AssistantAttorney General Orr wins unanimous approval as successor to Lorimer." Dud leaves the Manchester law firm of McLane, Davis, and Carleton to take up his new duties in Concord as the sole assistant attorney-general of N. H. And that news speaks for itself!
"January 7, 1935
"Your roving reporter just came roaringinto Medford from a skiing expedition inthe hills of New Hampshire. That rovitigreporter is me ... . now I won't have tobe so damned modest as to call myself he!I contacted so much granite up there todaythat my brains are bursting, and thereforeI feel moved to write to you with the sameyouthfulness and courage of that old seasalt, Jack Blair.
"The mention of Fisherman Jack reminds me of good old Bart Stoodley, who isnow of Arlington and Gloucester. He issingle and, when he is not living with hisparents in Arlington, he is hibernating ina weather-beaten, two-room shack, which issometimes referred to as a studio, inGloucester. The tradition and life of thatshack would lead to quite a tale, as youwould expect if you know Brother Stoodley.You probably remember Bart when he wascalled Captain because he fenced. He wasalso known as a budding philosopher during college days. Well, that bud for somequeer reason has burst into a bloominglawyer. Without knowing much aboutbotany, I would suggest that environmentand self-preservation had something to dowith it. Bart now practices law in Bostonin the offices of Kempton and Zonis, and heis conservatively driving a Ford. If MauryMandelbaum is disappointed in the bloomof that bud, I think it would assuage hintto be told that Bart has retained all his oldand varied interests in the world, and thatas recently as the day before yesterday, heard him quoting from Spengler's recentbook. If you are interested in knowingmore about Bart, I am sure he wouldgladly receive and entertain you at hisGloucester home. You would find him therealmost any night, huddled near his oilstove and drawing in the blue and savorysmoke of Prince Albert and pork chops. Hesays he likes it there because he can thinkread, write, and sip his whiskey clear withthe greatest of contentment. The shack isappropriately named 'The Blue Anchor;and its tradition started four years ago asthe scene of our summer tutoring school.Now it has turned into a royal kingdom. . . . and thereby hangs the tale.
"The tale that was just left hangingsomewhat involves our good friend TommyPhelps. Remember Tommy, the SouthernGentleman? Well, he is now residing inNewton, Mass., and practicing law in theoffices of Abbott, Dane, Buffum, and Howe.There ought to be a law against law firmshaving so many names'. Tommy has anoffice so big that I don't know where all theother fellows sit. Tom is working hard andis steadily gaining confidence of his officeassociates. Tom is keenly interested in thelaw, literature, drama, and the phenomenon of bald heads. In desperationTom has squelched his manly pride and isallowing a feminine hairdresser to scratchhis thinning pate at least once every week.I am following his wise example at a dollara throw, much to the detriment of thosewhose nostrils are sensitive. Tom, Bill Alexander, and I have that much in common atleast! Don't laugh because we will resentit! Tom still charms with his southerndrawl and he is an object of sartorial perfection. He now may be seen wearing stiff,detachable collars, and they are alwaysclean. I ought to know, because I often seehim at luncheon at the American Housecafeteria in company with Stoodley andFrank Young. Well, enough of Stoodley andPhelps; and I won't tell you what I knowabout Young because he is one of our collegiate ancestors.
"I now rove over into New York, wheremy old roommate, Bill Dodge, is living andworking. To be exact, Bill is living on LongIsland in the town of Flushing with hiswife Marion and his daughter Janet. Billhas that settled air .... domesticity hasset in! That might be expected because hemarried a Dane, and you know they say theScandinavian women are wonderful housekeepers. At any rate, Bill seems welltrained, especially in tending babies, andhe likes it, too. He is very happily marriedand intensely interested in his work. He isa laboratory director in the employ of thenew York Daily News, and his rise to famehas not dimmed his love for democracy anda mod old-fashioned frolic!
"I come back to Boston with the story ofPottsy Poeter. Pottsy drove over to Bostonfrom his New Jersey haunts during theholidays, and 10 and behold he ran into alocal automobile. Evidently the Bostontraffic was too much for him! I'll let Pottsytell his story. 'I was driving I suddenly heard a loud crash I thought,"Here I am dead!'" Rest assured, he isalive. Pottsy's wife and cat were with him,and he says the cat was not scared. A calmcat, I'll say! Pottsy's glasses were broken,but nobody was injured. Too bad such acatastrophe had to becloud that domesticscene. Pottsy is nearly bald and fat. He toois a lawyer.
"Another proud and sporty father ishonorable Gus Herbert. I met Gus at theUniversity Club, the day of the Yale game.As he was dashing out the door, he yelled,■I have an heir'.' Then his scholarly brainrose to the occasion and he added, 'Nemoest haerens viventis!' That boy sure knowshis law in a Latin way! Gus is practicinglaw with offices somewhere along AtlanticAve. I believe he is beyond the fish piers. Iunderstand Gus and his family are nowliving in Newton.
"Another Newton boy about to claim,marital fame is Nellie Hartstone. Nellie hasalways been pretty cagey, but he can't backout now, because everybody read about hisengagement in the society column of theBoston Transcript. The importance of thegirl demands naming her, but due to faultymemory, I will have to let you devote theproper time to her, Bill. When Nellie getsmarried, I wonder what his wife will haveto say about his fishing and hunting at fouro'clock in the morning. Maybe she doesn'tknow it, but all last fall he arose at 4 A.M.to fish and hunt duck. The inspirationmust have come from reading Isaac Walton's 'Angler.' It would be a shame to restrict such a noble ambition. In sane moments, Nellie practices law with his father.
"Speaking of ducks .... do you wannabuy a duck? Well, if you do, see Jack Pillsbury, the night city editor of the Boston Globe. He has four ducks . ... to sell!You can see them at his farm at Hanover,Mass.; .... my advice is to be sure theyare the right gender! Yes, Jack has boughta farm and on that farm he has a wife.They raised vegetables together before thefarm froze up. They have a dog, and RayWhite says that Jack is expecting a babysome years hence.
"Say, there's a fellow who has arrived!Ray was recently elected for another yearas secretary of the Massachusetts Divisionof the New England Council .... andthe hot part about it is that his name appears in the Directory of Directors. Nowthat is something. I have forgotten thepage, but you'll find it there .... lookfor Raymond Wilmot White! He does notsmoke cigars, which I think is a unique bitof news. Raymond is now organizing anindustrial program for New England, andI am sure it will dispel the depression assoon as he gets it launched. I didn't wantto put Raymond on the spot by asking himwhen this depression is going to lift, but Iam sure he is confident of making all youNew England guys rich. Hold on there,fellows—don't crowd around like that!
"Ray tells me a good sign is the approaching marriage of Hal Ripley. Remember Hal, our track starl He is going tomarry Frances Winslow Drake of Brockton, Mass., at the Unity Church, Brockton,on the 23d day of January, 1935. Theypicked the skid-doo day—may they livehappily ever after!
"Somebody saw Morton C. Jaquith outin the Worcester court the other day, andthe report is that he no longer has to takehis box to stand on. He has all the prosperous-looking lawyers bending and straining while he speaks to them in a familiarway. That same power enabled him to argue and win a case in the MassachusettsSupreme Court last month. It just goes toshow you can't keep a good man down!
"Speaking of midgets reminds me of thenight when we wandered into Loew's StateTheater to see Wallace Beery mimic thatgrand old man 'The Mighty Barnum.' During the show I could hear a mighty horselaugh emanating from the cheap seats inthe balcony, so I wasn't surprised to bumpinto Dr. Arch Diack as we were going outagreeing with Barnum and so will you ifyou have read all this.
"May I hope for your continued, courtesy?
"SQUEEK REDDING."
-Rice Studioj Quincy, Mass.
Secretary, 89 Pleasant St., Newton Center, Mass,
