Class of 1931
Reunion may be over and a gross of green pants torn to shreds in that first touch football game this fall, but '31 is still newsworthy. Red Rolfe is Public Enemy No. 2 to Bill Terry's Giants throughout the World Series, much to the joy of Yankee fans in general and the class in particular. As you all know, Red poured the wood to the horsehide every day down the stretch. and lifted his season's batting average up to .317—highest of any third sacker in either league—with a dandy assortment of doubles, triples, and round trip blows, none of this keeping him from knocking down drives that threatened to carry him out to left field. Those of us who saw him in the league games for three years at college knew he was going to be a World Champion, and can't help popping off now that the radio carries that message to ball fans everywhere And then Time prints Craig Thorn's aggressive and timely letter in the October 5 issue, showing that yellow is one of our least-favored colors and that it takes more than a depression to capsize us.
Going off the deep end myself—our one-masters 600 strong have been cutting the waves. A puny breeze starts us. Action, motion, a course to steer—that's been our cry in the wilderness. Drifting may seem like the life for a while, but we have all found out that resting on the old oars creates just as many callouses (and bills), but no ripples.
Last month we mentioned something about Chuck (alias Sachem) O'Neill seeing things early Sunday morning at the Campus Cafe during Reunion—strange things, and this time the mixture was 1936 + beer, rather than 1951 + rum and feathers. Let's check up on the great prognosticator and see how some of his Bema predictions really worked out:
You'll remember the O'Neill found Hart Gilchrist in his vest pocket. Now when last seen in Cleveland at the Great Lakes Exposition "Zoof" couldn't even keep his own vest buttoned, has been playing polo and handling the tiller in several yacht races; his daytime pursuits have run from oil (National Refining Company) to coal (Ohio Coal Control Commission) and now to bonds—if you're lucky on Monday evenings you will find him at 1843 Cadwell Ave., Cleveland Heights, Ohio And then there was Ozzie Bliss, part of the sprawling mass pulled out of C. K.'s hip pocket (Sachem was still fishing for a cigarette). Ozzie got himself out of this tangle only to run into another May 16 at Montclair, N. J., when he and Miss Jean Eaton Farleigh (Wellesley '34) were united in blissful ceremony—thousand pardons for this pun, but it is the only time same can be used. Like all the "B's" he was slated to a bartender, but upset the bucket slightly and became a broker—insurance, with a new home for two at 7005 Ridge Ave., Chicago Another fellow who also was doped to add to the long list of Chicago bartenders is Bob Baumrucker, who writes in from 835 Keystone Ave., River Forest, 111—it's radio advertising with him, the Studebaker account his pet canary. He also states that the report in the Alumni Fund letter that he was seen in Cleveland with his "fiancee" should be considered a rather "gross exaggeration," and conjectures from his own snooping that the aforementioned Gilchrist was trying to "do him dirt." Like most political speakers today Bob ends the story too soon—hurling a countercharge at his opponent, but not giving a full explanation of the facts.
"John Butlin Martin for President" was a future campaign poster spied by our soothsayer through the foam. Well, he is getting warm—John just took up his chores at the S. E. C. board room in Washington, his private doorbell is at 3723 "R" St. Stepping stones along his path so far: 2 years in Oxford and Europe as our Rhodes scholar, 3 years studying law at Ann Arbor, punctuated by stumping upstate Michigan for Vanderberg in the senatorial election of 1934, lining up the Vassar vote with his marriage spring of '35 With Dick Porter also at the Securities Exchange Commission, sifting through the figures (his new home—1723 Troy St., Colonial Village, Arlington, Va.) and Lee Andrews and Larry Tucker resettling things for Rex "Big Guy" Tugwell (Lee never locks the door at 3511 13th St., N. W., Apartment 44, Washington, nor does Larry at 2700 "Q" St. N. W., Apartment 245 A, Washington)— why, there are some brains along the Potomac we can trust.
From Washington to professors—not such a long jump at that. You know from Thirty-One Up that Maury Whittinghill is in the department of zoology, California Institute of Technology, Pasadena, doing scientific research, and that George Stevens is "laying down the law" to the boys at the University of Louisville, Ky. (new address—1289 Cherokee Road, Louisville). But now comes the announcement from Lehigh University News Bureau of Bethlehem, Pa., September 15, that Charles Tyler Prouty has been appointed to the staff as instructor in English this year. The bulletin goes on to recite information most of you know: About Charlie's B.A. at St. John's College, Cambridge '33, work at the Suffield School, Connecticut in '33-'34, after which graduate work at Columbia. We're going to whitewash O'Neill for not prophesying all this. At the time we were whittling our canes that last spring in Hanover few of us were thinking about getting back at the professors by switching positions and peering out from the other side of the desk.
Another group whose actions can scarcely be blamed on O'Neill are those fellows who have taken unto themselves wives recently. Bob Oelman actually middle-aisles it October 17 at 8:30 P.M. in Dayton, Ohio, with Miss Mary Coolidge, a most agreeable partner in every way. Many false rumors have floated about since graduation re Bob's status, but this is the last word. Your correspondent feels the column's reputation as an accurate news medium sufficiently at stake, hence will be there in person to see that Bob does walk that "last mile." Around the first of November the Oelmans bring a new lease on life to the older married folks at the Grand Apartments, Grand Avenue, Dayton, and Bob expects to return to his desk behind the door marked "Oversea Sales" at National Cash Register Company. Definitely consigned is Ken Fraser, whose marriage in New York City to the former Emma Kathryn Ruch was announced Saturday the 26th of September. You will find them at 336 East 71st St., Apartment 4F; in the daytime Ken accounts for the funds of S. D. Leidesdore & Co., 125 Park Ave., New York City. Bill Conklin had one very good reason for not being able to make Reunion, since he married Elizabeth Blair of Indiana, Pa., a little over a month laterJuly 25 to be exact, but we do not have their joint address.
Again attempting to take things in the right order, you will be interested to know where some of our new doctors are stationed: Sey Burge, Grenfell Hospital, St. Anthony, Newfoundland.
John Feltner, Shriners Hospital for Crippled Children, Montreal, Quebec, Canada.
Swede Nelson, Denver Children's Hospital, Denver, Colo.
Joe Clough, Newton (Mass.) Hospital—his M.D. at Jefferson, Philadelphia this June.
Joe Rushton, Mayo Clinic, Rochester, Minn.
Ollie Hayward, Robert Brigham Hospital, Parker Hill Ave., Boston, Mass. (Glad he was still at Mary Hitchcock during Reunion, as he was called on frequently those three days.)
News about John O. "Spud" Rogers. The nickname is new, does not refer to how we got along with Spud Bray at all, but rather how he gets along in the potato country of Maine (his law office in Aroo-stook county is at Caribou). The answer: Well enough to register the first legal K. O. by any attorney in years against the powerful Bangor and Aroostook Railroad. Rogers didn't write this in, but 'fessed up to it during Reunion Another singular achievement goes to Ed Elmer, appointed superintendent of vocal music in the Hartford, Conn., public schools. Ed had been doing an all-around job in Farmington, giving music as much time as possible and with mighty good results. With Wes Brockway supervising instrumental music in Hartford, that means the insurance city gets both of the men who majored in music in our class. Ed and Amber found an easy address for people to remember—208 Farmington Ave., Apartment 208, Hartford, Conn.
Now, about that vacation of yours!? The fish that jumped off your hook, the gal you met the last night out (meant for single-lifers only), the ball that hung on the lip of the cup for a sure birdie and a surer dollar, etc. If you batted a handsome .400 on the trip as Red Rolfe did in the series, so much the better. And don't forget the pictures—they tell many a story. As a parting word before we close the books until the December issue (when a good football season for Dartmouth will be scored up, we hope) let's buy heavy into the Group Subscription Plan for the MAGAZINE and dues. We know you all have good intentions, but we don't want to take that highway just yet—so sign up with Thorn and make sure you cash in on the deal by aiming your news this direction.
Class of '31 Assembled in Record Numbers for Its First Reunion Last June
Secretary, 6201 Fifth Ave., Pittsburgh, Pa.
