Noted Townies of the Past and Present

Defined & Described

WE WHO HAVE LIVED in Hanover for many years are prone to magnify the deeds of our early heroes, and to wonder whether the present or future years will ever produce characters such as we knew.

The men of today seem conventional, and all fashioned in much the same mold. So we turn naturally to one great character, who never paid the least attention to conventions, mass feeling, or sacred traditions.

That man was John Poor, for so many years officially professor of Astronomy; but actually a philosopher of keen wit and great penetration. What John might say about any particular event, no one ever knew, but his remarks were quoted from one end of the town to the other.

Tradition has it that John was an enthusiastic member of a small town band, worked upon by an enthusiastic alumnus, and projected into Dartmouth College. He made a brilliant record in scholarship, but failed to achieve any great distinction in music. Yet that was the subject he loved above all others. Once when playing the flute in the local Symphony Orchestra, he sounded a sour note. The conductor frowned at him. and John was used up for three weeks. Music was his great interest in life, and teaching only an incident. Life was never a symphony of perfect harmony, but full of sour notes which John took delight in commenting upon.

Once he attended a mixed party at Moose Cabin, and Eric Foster came to him and said, "John, there's a woman here who should not have come. I think she is going to have a baby." John said nothing. Eric returned a second time, and said, "John, this is terribly serious. What will we do?" When Eric returned the third time, and asked if he thought the woman should have come, John said, Yes, I do, and I hope she has her baby right here. We will keep it long enough to see if it has red hair."

One year a boy came to John and asked him to give him a special course. John said he didn't know anything about it, and he had better get someone else. The boy came back and said he couldn't get anyone, so John said he and give it.

When Commencement time came—the boy wanted to leave early for a trip abroad, so John scheduled his examination to fit the boy's plan. He then got a sharp letter from the registrar's office saying he had scheduled an exam out of the regular order. But John told the boy to go just the same, and on examination day trotted down to the gym, and met what he called one of those G. D. young instructors, who told him he was supposed to give a final examination to Robert Smith who hadn't shown up.

John asked to see the schedule sheet, studied it carefully, and walked away. He never heard anything more about it, the boy had his trip, and must have passed his exam. John wouldn't have flunked him anyway, and why so much bother about it, when Europe was waiting.

Once John was riding along and came to a road sign "Passable but unsafe." "That ought to be over my class room door," he said.

When one of John's pals was married, John took him up to the Observatory and pointed to an extra chair that he had just brought in. "See that," said he, "it's your wedding present, and it will stay right here. You may be glad to come up here and sit in it."

One evening John was walking in the middle of the street, with two other profs, and a car coming along at great speed, knocked John down. They took him to Scottie's and finally he came to. His only remark was, "Well, I've fooled them again. There won't be a holiday tomorrow, with the flags at half mast."

According to the standards of a Department of Education John was not a great teacher, but if you were interested in the human side of life, his courses were gems. It was worth while listening for an hour to the demonstration of some abstruse formula for the quaint comments which might close the period. For John was a mathematical astronomer, and cared more for deduction than observations. He was impatient with the routine of passing and flunking but if a boy showed unusual interest John would spend infinite pains to help him. He no doubt inspired a great number of able boys to pursue advanced courses in Astronomy. Isn't that one of the attributes of a great teacher?

What a quaint, unworldly man he was; careless of dress, oblivious of social conventions, and modest to a fault. Cynical, yes, but seldom bitter. Unorthodox. Maybe he was, but most truly great men are. John wouldn't like us to mention it but for many years he was the largest individual contributor to St. Thomas church. And the generous things he did almost stealthily are too numerous to mention.

What a joy it would be to sit around a table and sip coffee with those four Musketeers:—John Poor, Leland Griggs, John Dallas, and Colin Stewart. Do you wonder Hanover seems conventional today, for John the dryest and perhaps the keenest of them all has hung his last pebble to the pendulum of the old clock at Dartmouth Hall, to take care of that fast second. John never even regulated a clock like other people.