Class of 1916
When you read these notes, the football season will be over, but good or bad, win or lose, when the football season rolls around, it's a time "for Balmacaan to foregather. The night-before party of the Harvard game, held at the University Club, found nineteen of us present. Jake Mensel came on from Bristol, Penn., Ed Kiley and Pike Larmon from New York, and Sears Roebuck's pride and joy, Alec Jardine, was on hand from Danbury. Bill Hoffman, captain of the 1932 team, gave us the inside story of how football was played, Cliff Bean was due to be toastmaster, but couldn't make it at the last moment, so I substituted. What a job the visiting firemen, Mensel and Kiley, as well as Bob Steinert, did on me. Now all you good Balmacaaners remember this, don't believe any of the stories that come to your ears, about me. "Me thinks, he doth protest too much," say the story-tellers. Anyhow, I'll continue through this column having the last word. Together with the above, the following Balmacaaners were present: Bernkopf, Tapley, Cressy, Story, Mott, Hayward, Bobst, Fuller, Cutler, Upham, Gove, and Parkhurst.
We had a very inspiring wire from 1916's New Dealers, Sterling and Betty Wilson, Van and Selma. Again Sterling called the turn on the election. Why didn't I bet? We learned through Frank Bobst that Joe Carleton has been and is quite ill, so get busy, you men, and write to Joe at 76 Highland Ave., Newtonville, Mass. Hope to see you up soon, Joe.
The Great Abraham was due to come to the party, but too much Brown game the previous Saturday licked Honey. Which reminds me, no one traveling the highways into Burlington, Vt., can miss the big signs of the Great Abraham Store.
Seen at the Brown game, during the downpour, said Abraham, the silent Tony Garcia, with wife and daughter, Ken and Mrs. Sto well, and three generations of Parkhursts, Dick, his father, and his son.
Hurrah, the notes are being read. Carl John Eskeline wrote me a card from Sacramento that he was sailing back to China on the S. S. President Hoover, October 30, with Lucille and their two children, Don and Judith. I had hoped to get a message to you, Eskie, before you sailed. Eskie's new address, c/o Socony-Vacuum, Tientsin, China.
The best correspondent in the class is Rog Evans. Rog is down at Washington, at the Racquet Club. Now that Tog Upham bets on the ponies and Rog Evans has gone New Deal, anything may happen. Why even Bert Phinney may be on time. I told Bert the Harvard party started at 5 P.M., feeling sure he would be there at 7 P.M. No, he didn't come. I saw Sweeney Fuller in Manchester, N. H., the other day. He is looking fine and feeling better daily.
Hark, ye fathers of 1916. Numbered among the seventy-eight sons of Dartmouth men in the present freshman class are Bob Clunie's son Robert C. of New Castle, Me., and Larry Doyle's son, Kelvin L. Al Glueck's boy, Charles F. is a sophomore. Good luck to the sons of 1916.
Here is some news for you. Congratulate Mr. and Mrs. Charles Joseph Taylor on the arrival of Richard Cowell Taylor, on October 14. Zach has planned to see young Dick score a touchdown against Princeton in 1954. In Zach's very newsy letter, I learn that Ros Magill is an author of note, "is anexcellent writer, and an authority on hissubject." Zach should know. His Ronald Press publishes the writings of Ros. I learned through Zach that John Ben Butler has his law offices on Fifth Avenue, lives in Fields ton, and has a happy family of four.
Now John Ben, if you don't write me some news, I'll tell the boys about the firecracker episode, devised, planned, and executed by that corps of internationally famous engineers, Joy and Green. As I promised to tell tales, here goes with the first one.
Who remembers that hot, hot evening of wetdown in June, 1913, when the thirsty members of 1914 failed to find any luscious lemonade in the big barrel on the campus. There was hardly enough for the seniors, very little for the juniors, none for the sophomores, and nary a drop for the freshmen, except the men mentioned below. If ever a dastardly deed was committed in Hanover, then the men who stole the lemonade from the Commons basement, that John Aulis had so carefully prepared, certainly qualified. Who was it, who found the barrel full, emptied it into milk cans, hustled them out in back of the Beta house, came back for more, and were almost caught by the raging John? They were freshmen then. Just think of that for a beginning. Of course, one of them was an innocent boy led astray. Jake Mensel would never have thought of doing a deed such as this, so I place the blame where it really belongs, on the brow of a man who now holds a position of honor and authority in Boston, none other than the secretary of the Port of Boston Authority. You've guessed it, the quiet, unassuming Dick Parkhurst concocted the scheme and led the raid. I never tasted such wonderful lemonade in my life.
Just learned of the death of Dr. Norman Dresser at Berlin, N. H., on October 20. You may read the details under the Necrology column.
Secretary, 37 Maple St., Stoneham, Mass
