Class of 1914
We hope this finds you pretty well dug out dusting off the old golf clubs and gettlng ready for spring. We hope, too, that your affairs are responding to the efforts of the New Deal and that you have had at least a preview around the corner.
We had a breezy letter from Page Junkins, who enclosed a clipping from the Chicago Daily News of February 4 reviewing a new moving picture, "The Night Life of the Gods," which is taken from Thorne Smith's novel of the same name. The critic summarizes that .... "The picture is screwy and squirrely, but it will provide a load of laughs," and recommends that everyone see it. It is becoming increasingly evident that our class missed a lot in not having been more familiar with Thorne Smith's works before his untimely death.
This month we seem to be almost devoid of class gossip. Not a single vital statistic has crossed our horizon, so we shall fall back upon ancient history, hoping that these more or less random ramblings may accomplish two purposes, the one to fill the column, and the more important to provoke, we hope, replies from these men who almost without exception are among our non-correspondents.
'14 IN WENTWORTH
Groping pretty much blindly among the dormitory catalogues, we chose our freshman residence at Went worth principally because the rooms were cheap, and thus we found ourselves on a beautiful September morning surrounded by a group of fellow freshmen, who, as a group, we believe had no superiors in freshman enjoyment at Hanover.
There was Pike Gilbert, for example, who hailed from Methuen, Mass. Handicapped by physical impediment, he almost immediately became one of our best indoor athletes. Smoker of huge and vile smelling pipes and blessed with a benign disposition always reflected in a broad smile, he could always be depended upon for a joke and a solution of the hectic situations wherein we found ourselves. Pike didn't remain with us very long and no word has been forthcoming from him. Wherever he is, we venture that he is brightening the corner as well as filling it with clouds of tobacco smoke.
Next we recall Tony Rud. Tony had the best collection in Wentworth Hall of hard-boiled shirts with bristling stiff bosoms and cuffs, over which he wore the heaviest red sweater we have seen before or since. Tony had been around a lot, and seemed to those of us from the country to know lots of answers. To Tony we are grateful for help in freshman themes, a proficiency which he has expanded as an author of some note. Perhaps you have noticed some of his things in the magazines in the past few years.
Tony roomed with Dan Roberts from Bellefourche, S. JD. Dan—or Windy or Breezy or Butch—blew into Hanover from the wide-open spaces with a cowboy gait and a wealth of wild adventure from his South Dakota hills. Dan was a terribly handy man to have around in a free-for-all scrap, as perhaps several men of 1913 will recall. In addition to his ten-gallon hat, which didn't last more than a couple of weeks, we recall his watch chain made up of nuggets of gold as big as marbles and weighing at least a ton, which he would exhibit on occasion. We never heard of Dan or of Bellefourche until the late President Coolidge summered in South Dakota, and then, spread across the front page right in the centre of the reception committee—our own friend Dan Roberts, now grown as big as a house, wearing a duplicate of his Hanover hat, and, unless the photograph fooled us, still wearing the watch chain. Dan, we sure would like to hear from you and have you give us some of your adventures from South Dakota.
We had plenty of music in Wentworth. George Richardson, for example, brought with him from Tilton the tootingest cornet in college, with the possible exception of Doc Carleton's. George, too, specialized in pipes, and whiled away his time practising on various instruments. As we recall, by the time he got to Thayer School he could play about any instrument in the band. We understand he is out in Cleveland now, and if he is we wish somebody would look him up and drag some news out of him.
ENGINEERING IN NORTH CAROLINA
Clarence Pierce lived on the top floor. He, too, went to Thayer School, and is now with the Duke Power Company in North Carolina. Perhaps Mat Hallett could smoke him out. Clarence was a tall rawboned chap, possessed of an immense hidden strength, which his general contour somewhat belied. Very quiet, but when he spoke he always had something to say. He was the kind of a chap that would go through with things, and we'll bet he is a mighty fine engineer.
Top-floor roommates were Red Loudon and Dick Pritchard, both of whom early gave evidence of leadership which their careers have so ably demonstrated. With Dick we passed several months in the army, particularly in La Belle France, where our adventures, if not exactly of the front line, ranged from swiping champagne to suggesting how to load steamboats in flooded rivers. We don't think we have related one incident which tied Dick and us to his former roommate, Red. On a "shopping" expedition one day in a French armament depot we succeeded in separating our allies from certain pieces of metal, which, formed in the shape of a chair, had for their purpose the protection of airplane pilots from gunfire from the rear. We arranged to send twentyfour of these up to the front, and some weeks later we heard that Red while in squadron formation on the ground had been clipped by a side-swiping machine on taking off. His observer was killed, and the prop brought up smack against this armored seat and probably saved him from serious injury, perhaps worse. Thus, one bit of thievery which we perpetrated on the French at least came to a good end.
Gordon Piatt was another of our freshmen at Wentworth. We never could understand why he didn't get further in baseball. Personally we thought he had a faster ball than either Mat Hallett or Pat Willard, against whose slants we swung so wildly and in vain in trying to make the freshman team. Gordon, too, left us before graduation. He was a delightful personality to know, and we hope he shows up at some reunion and before that writes to tell us of the intervening years.
Likewise there was Lew Dillingham, fat and phlegmatic, but like most of us from country towns getting a tremendous kick out of living in a college atmosphere. We just heard from Lew that he is now living in West Lebanon, Me. We saw him once as a member of the Yankee Division while in France. He, too, should tell us more about himself.
Another pair of roommates were Rudy vonLenz and Art Maddalena. These boys had been violent athletic enemies in rival Boston high schools, and after fighting it out as centres for years they decided to go to Dartmouth and become roommates. Rudy was strong for the sciences and became a chemist, and is now living in New Rochelle, N. Y. Art Maddalena is general agent of a large insurance company with offices in Gloucester, Mass. We have had the good fortune to bump into him several times lately and meet his wife and eldest son, who, we understand, is likewise headed for Hanover.
Paul Hazelton first introduced us to the intricacies of whist, the particular variety being bid whist. He, being somewhat of a city slicker, had lots o£ fun in showing us greenies what it was all about. Paul was a finessing fool, and wherever he is now playing contract we shall wager that, as in Wentworth one cigarette a point, he has a system all his own, based principally on finessing and plenty of conversation.
Paul Simanton is another one of the Wentworth boys who was more or less "lost." Paul, too, was somewhat musical, and his efforts in one room and Richardson's in another often provoked a barrage of water bags. Any news from Paul will be very welcome.
Forrest Blood, who is now a staid professor at the University of Nebraska, early gave evidences of erudition, and to him likewise we are indebted for aid, comfort, and assistance in freshman English. Forrest had a swell pompadour, whose natural effect we vainly tried to copy.
These boys among others had a good time freshman year. We were the despair of old Trachy, the janitor. Few among us were endowed with a great quantity of the world's goods, but freshman year at Hanover will always remain one of our most pleasant college recollections.
These ramblings, if you have read thus far, will, we sincerely hope, cause some of you to sit down and help us to fill this column in future issues. Won't you write us something about the boys, either the present generation or go back into history, as you will. Please read some of the notes from the other classes. The news about the various chaps is made possible only through the co-operation of the men writing the Secretary and telling him what is going on. We know that no class has a better class morale than ours, and post cards are still one cent. With over one hundred men in the class taking the magazine, a dozen or so post cards a month will greatly aid the Secretary in his efforts to do a respectable job. Won't you please do your part?
The Dartmouth Lunch Club at the Parker House in Boston has established itself in meeting a long-felt want. We had our first class luncheon in January with seven boys present—Stubby Johnson, Burleigh, Gregg, Kimball, Herlihy, Lawrence, and the Secretary. It has been vile weather, but nearly every day some of the boys are to be found there. We are going to meet every Friday, and all the visiting firemen should plan to attend.
It isn't too early to begin thinking about June. Two years ago a few of us met in Hanover to plan a reunion, and for most of us it was the first off-year reunion we had attended and we all had a grand time. This year some of us are again planning to attend. There will be absolutely nothing formal, but we shall at least try to have a room where 1914 men can foregather, and if you have never been to Commencement in Hanover in an off year you have a treat in store. We have heard that several of the boys are planning to come back at least for a week-end, and you had better think it over.
STOP—PRESS NEWS
Mostly off the record for one reason or another. ....
Cap Lawrence was in town t'other day buying materials for a new house he is building in Groton. Can't say more because we don't know any more.
Laura Larmon arrived December, 1934, at her parents' Scarsdale home. Brother "Cotty" dropped in just as we were composing a letter of congratulation, and when sufficiently normal from his paroxysm of laughter to be coherent we learned that,"Laura" is a, or perhaps better, the Larmon parrot. Laura swears in Spanish, commands horses, and does all sorts of tricks. If President Sig doesn't send some news of the New York boys we shall discuss the parrot at greater length.
Bill Slater and the Sec. spent an evening in New York together recently, discussing the intricacies of the New York Stock Exchange and other related topics, which, of course, would be of no interest to relate.
Oh yes, we have a new speaker very much in demand among girls' clubs and the like. He says we can print the yarn in September, and so, making due note on our calendar pad, this will be about all for now.
[A CONTRIBUTION—ED.]
For some time it has been the opinion of your classmates that our hard-working Secretary should be given a rest from the arduous duties connected with getting out the monthly blurb in these columns. It has also been the opinion of an ever-increasing number of Ed Leech's beloved classmates that we knew too much about each other and too little of Ed. We wish it distinctly understood there is no malice connected with this change for this month only. Oh no! Some of us have been waiting for this opportunity too long. We shall try to be gentle with Ed to a degree—that degree being in the neighborhood of 200° Fahrenheit.
There has been no little discussion over the peculiar type of glasses worn by our dear classmate Ed. We believe, therefore, that the findings of a special investigating committee will not 'be amiss at this time. It seems that anyone who wishes an excuse to go to Hanover every so often for a week or so can arrange such plans by writing Prof. Ames to the effect that he (not Ames) is slightly cockeyed. In justice to Ed it should be said that he does not go to Hanover everytime he is so handicapped, but pretty nearly as often. It seems such a jaunt was recently consummated by our illustrious Secretary. Long hours were spent by Ed in relaxation at the Hanover Inn. As the muscles of the eye strengthened so that he could focus on the side table, he would pour himself another drink, call up Prof. Ames and ask the latest quotation on American Optical Preferred, and then suffer a relapse. It is learned that the Mary Hitchcock Clinic called on our trusty John (Piane) to straighten Ed out. John offered Ed an interest in the Co-Op Store for an initial deposit of $50,000, which Ed turned down, it is said, with the criptic rejoinder: "These glasses don't make things look thatrosey." Ed eventually returned to his home, where his family prayerfully awaited his return. Nothing exceeds the loyalty of one's family.
We don't want to be unfair to Ed, but we think we can save him quite a bit of future embarrassment by gently warning you who might feel bighearted enough sometime to invite him to a party. These glasses Ed wears bend the vision to coincide with a lot of warped ideas he has. Tough as it is on the host, yet it is an eccentricity which if understood before can be properly allowed for. We refer specifically to a recent party which Ed felt constrained to enliven to the extent of bringing twenty of his own friends. The host and hostess had already invited nineteen of their friends. You see, the whole affair was properly .... bawled up, to put 11 discreetly. The point is, that everything appearing hind-end-foremost to Ed he felt he should furnish the guests for the party he was invited to. The only way to beat Ed at this game is to ask him if he will invite you among those he is asking to your own party which you are having at his house. This neutralizes everything, including the Sanka!
Secretary, 367 Boylston St., Boston
