Class of 1933
Before getting down to the regular business of this meeting, let us acknowledge gratefully the receipt of Christmas cards from Lyman and Betty Wakefield, Phil Whitbeck, Harold Mackey and Doug Kaplinger. Abject, we apologize for not mentioning these at a time fairly close to the Octave of the Nativity.
And now, Brother President and Brothers: The first name to come before the meeting to be passed on is Willard L. Doye.
Voice. He played water polo (minus one).
Other Voice. He kept Rutgers from scoring one night by holding the ball under water for sixty seconds (minus two).
Our Voice. He not oniy sent us a letter, but he enclosed a picture of us in band regalia with Peck horn at al., taken Sophomore year on the campus in front of Webster (plus five).
MR. DOYLE IS BY THE HOUSE.
Brother Doyle: In the first place, I feelit incumbent upon myself to answer thoselast six letters of yours, including thatcheck you sent to keep me out of the Homefor Stray Cats.
In the third place (waxing humorous, hey?) I must thank you for a good turnand a deed well done. I am referring toyour last column in the Alumni. I wasactually grinding—you are perfectly freeto believe what you wish—for a contractsexam that is about to do its damnedest toslaughter me this coming Saturday. (And writing letters, Willard?)
Needless to say, my sense of humor hadquite forsaken me. I was wallowing in theStatute of Frauds—that damn thing is the biggest fraud ever pulled on an embryolawyer—when said issue came. Naturally,turned first of all to see what scintillateing word you had to convey to your lovingclassmates, and after reading the first fewparagraphs some eight or nine times, Iimmeasurably cheered. Some fun, eh? (We're sorry) classmates. We've torn out page of our copy.)
All of which brings me down to thestatement that I returned to the land ofmy birth last July when the drouth droveme out of the God's country of Montana.I had to go four miles for enough waterto make a can of coffee and decided thatit was proving a drain on my constitution.So I got my other pair of shoes, told thedog to hop on the fender, and headed forSt. Louis—to which point I arrived afterperfunctory greetings with five of the eightWyoming police. Three of them were nicefellows, though.
I spent a couple of days with my partnerand his wife in St. Louis, and went to thezoo to sympathize with the animals thathad to live in a climate like that. (Obvious remark.)
At present I am in the Brooklyn LawSchool, acclimating myself to subways,noise, and sundry stenches, and envyingthe boys in Hanover.
I met Gil Beebe at Grand Central lastweek, and he's busy collecting informationfor some medical center hereabouts. Hesays he likes married life. (Aha! another hit.)
I saw Ted Purcell in Chicago. We dranksome beer and harmonized Eleazar Wheelock on the shores of Lake Mich. He'sworking for some gas utility company.
Went to Hanover last fall and hope togo again as soon as I can. I'm kinda gripedabout the Ledyard Bridge. Progress is swelland all that, but my sentimental nature isinclined to impose restrictions upon it.
The next name is Irving Whitney.
Voice. He threw peanuts in the Nugget (minus one).
Other Voice. I saw him in White River on Saturday night (minus two).
Our Voice. Even though he referred to this honored periodical as the "alumnae magazine," he did send us a letter (plus four).
MR. WHITNEY IS BY THE HOUSE.
Brother Whitney: Another of your classmates announcing where he is. I am associated with A. B. Rotch, one of the secretaries for the class of '08, here in Milford,N. H., helping him get out the Milford Cabinet and the Wilton Journal.
I haven't been with Mr. Rotch very long,starting at the Cabinet office in September.Worked in a series of A & P stores beforethat.
I can't tell you much class news. BertThorstenberg is working for MarshallField in Chicago. I see some of the boys inNashua occasionally.
The next name is John Meek.
Voice. He goes to the Yale Law School (minus two).
Other Voice. He receives mail at 2598 Yale Station (minus three).
Our Voice. (Like the white horses in Ben Hur, we always win.) But he sends us news of the Strong Silent Sector of 1933 (plus six).
MR. MECK IS BY THE HOUSE.
Brother Meck: This letter has been theobject of contemplation for some time a?idis now finally achieving existence, perhapsspurred on by the dearth of 1933 material in the recent ALUMNI MAGAZINE. (Ray.)
At present I am in the Yale Law School(second year), having transferred fromPenn Law School for the reason of anoverwhelming distaste for the place. HereI find the pursuit of a legal education a
more leisurely occupation, and am particularly glad to have escaped from the association with sobbing semihysterical classmates who were forever on the verge offlunking out of law school before they evenknew what an exam looked like. (The April Panic at Cambridge.) Our class isfairly well represented here with PhilFarnham, Jack Masten, Harry Osborne,Bill Dowling, Manny Sprague, and AIBeekman.
Lee Eckels, with whom I roomed lastyear, is back at Penn Law School and atpresent is engaged in the law review competition. His address is 427 So. 40th St.,Philadelphia. Sam Cunningham is alsothere at the Law School, and I believe thatPhil Byers is at the Medical School.
During the fall I saw Ken Spang severaltimes. He is at Columbia studying for hisMaster's degree in economics, and lives atthe International House. Jus Stanley is atColumbia Law School, and there arerumors that he sells insurance at night,though ordinarily first year law studiesare sufficient to keep one busy.
Jack Trost is at Marquette Law Schoolin Wisconsin, and from his tale of woe hasbeen actually doing some hard work; seeking the lighter pursuits very occasionally,instead of every other night. Ward Donneris in Albany looking after apartmenthouses—collecting rents, seeing to the tenants' wants, and so forth.
Les Huntley, who is with the NationalCity Bank in the Orient, has finished thetraining course and at present is inShanghai. Petey Hicks still seems to bewith the Merchants Steel and Supply Cos.in Chicago, but whether he does any workor not is an open question.
The next name is Hank Hawgood.
Voice. I'm getting pretty tired of all this. Let's go up to the second show at the Nugget (minus four).
Other Voice. I prefer the Old Howard, myself (minus eleven).
Our Voice. But he delivers class notes material in person.
MR. HAWGOOD IS BY THE HOUSE.
Brother Hawgood: Somewhat hazy, butnevertheless important is the news thatBob Swander was married last Novemberout Pittsburgh way. The missus' name isHelen, I believe, but she is called by whatwas once her last name—Smiley. Nice name—nice girl—nice work. It will touch thehearts of youse guys, I know, to hear thatit was a Harvard-Dartmouth week-end anda blind date at Pine Manor that firstbrought Bob and Smiley together somefour years ago. Bob continues to carry onas a rising young banker with the CentralUnited Bank at Cleveland. Laboring awaywithin the same portals is Herb Moatz,who spends his spare moments feeling badabout the last Dartmouth-Yale game, atwhich he had been a hopeful spectator.But as with the rest of us, Herb's hopesspring eternal.
As for Cleveland's other bankers, there'sHank McKee looking very imposing behind a mahogany desk in the estates department of the Cleveland Trust. KenSpang was working at the same place before he went to Columbia. Rooming withMcKee in Cleveland is Bill McCombs, whois a traveling salesman (with a fine assortment of Mae West jokes) for PattersonSargeant paint. The rumor is rampant thatfor three weeks or so over the Christmasholidays, Bill took a pleasure cruise toSouth America. Not bad.
As for the ex-'33 boys, there's Bob Wilson plugging along in fine style throughhis last year at Harvard Business School.There's Dick Mosier making a fine recordat Yale Law School, where he is a memberof the staff of the worthy Law Journal. Then there's Kurt Reed in the jewelrybusiness down here in Boston. His hobbiesare a wife, a husky three-year-old youngster, and a self-made shack in the woods.Curt is living at Quincy, but within amonth will move to a new house at Milton.
Nice shot: Curt escorting a visitorthrough the new house and leading himinto one of the front rooms upstairs."This," he says, with a pause for emphasis,"is the master's bedroom."
We shall table the names of ColonelThompson, whom we saw at the better-be-forgotten Harvard basketball game, and Fuller Ripley, who seems to have gotten himself elected as vice-president of the Keene (7 miles from Troy) Alumni Club as of the class of 1(130, until some future meeting.
We might add that Voice and OtherVoice were played by Roscoe Pound and Mr. Justice Holmes, retired, who were lured here by the imposing array of legal talent.
Next month we shall have some material concerning members who are NOT in law schools.
Secretary, Apt. 12 1697 Cambridge St., Cambridge, Mass.
