Class of 1923
The town of Rockford, Ill., has a distinct reputation for two things. First, a brand of socks is made there which well satisfies the purposes of Middle-West farmers but continues to amaze Fifth Avenue window shoppers. After the socks in reputation comes the vigor of Dartmouth alumni residing in that city. The Rockford Morning Star is a full-fledged eight-column newspaper, and on the 18th of December last across the top of all eight columns, in nice boldface letters appears the statement: "KarlLundberg. is elected R. C. C. President." R. C. C. is not a federal relief agency. R. C. C. has nothing to do with socks. R.C.C. stands for nothing less than Rockford Country Club. Karl's election to the presidency is only the beginning, however. It seems that last year Stanton K. Smith '25 was president of the club, succeeded this year by Karl, and functioning on several important committees is none other than our classmate Karl Williams. At the time of the annual meeting, what with Stan Smith making his report as president, Karl Williams reporting for his committee, and Karl Lundberg taking over his new office, a man from the University of Illinois arose and said: "What is this anyway—a meetingof the Dartmouth Club?"
One of the long lost has been found. Arlon Dadmun Albee has been among the missing almost from the time he went to Montreal and started a shoe business some time immediately after freshman year. Albee was the first secretary of the class, and while I did not have an opportunity to hear all the details I learned enough to know that his life has been extremely colorful since leaving Dartmouth. He is back in Montreal again, and extends an invitation to all the wandering brothers to call upon him when in need of footwear at 2058 Metcalfe St., Montreal.
Along with the above statement I suppose it behooves me to mention that Pete Jones represents an excellent shoe house near Boston, and, with some reluctance, I mention that Truman Metzel is a supplier of footwear in Chicago. If I am asked why the reluctance, I shall state frankly that a pair of shoes were purchased from Brother Metzel for my young son, but the boy outgrew them before they wore out. Metzel should either develop an expanding shoe or make them of a quality that will wear .out in the proper length of time.
I am afraid an item of interest has escaped our society editor, since I do not remember that an announcement of the marriage of Marion McNamara to Edward Raymond Furey ever appeared in this column. At any rate the delightful event took place more than a year ago, and Mr. and Mrs. Furey now live in Pelham Manor. Eddy is with the A.1-K. O. Chemical Company of Mt. Vernon, N. Y.
Our most regular contributor from up Worcester way, Sherm Baldwin, submits the following first-hand account of recent events and recollections:
"Ike Coulter blossoms out as the president, vice-president, treasurer, generalmanager, editor, etc., of the Coulter Pressof Clinton, Mass., publishers of the Clinton Daily Item (b'gosh). Ike claims that publishing a small-town newspaper is a terriblestrain on the nerves, as you have less privacythan a goldfish and are constantly beingheld up to the school children as beingthat 'nice Mr. Coulter who runs the paper.'That Ike staged his New Year's Eve celebration in neighboring Worcester is proofenough that he takes his role seriously.
"Frank Doten after a spell in Dayton,Ohio, at the headquarters of Frigidaire, hasbeen transferred back, to his native Bostonin charge of their New England operations.
"As I recall it has appeared in these columns that Joe Pollard has been back inHanover for several years. He ASSISTEDDoc Bowler in conducting that freshmannightmare Smut until Doc's retirement putJoe in full charge. He also is the doctor forthe athletic teams. What I do not rememberseeing noted is Joe's claim to a completelynew and unique method of marking theexam papers—he reads every one of them.Horace Taylor and several of us admonished Joe rather severely for replacing theold system of throwing the exam books upthe stairs with one so fraught with thepossibility of human error, but Joe sayshe's going to stick by it, at least until thefreshman mutiny and go to Prexy about it."
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO THIS MONTH
Cy Aschenbach and Pete Hurd threw away their razors until spring, with Bill Brock assuming the tonsorial responsibilities around Carnival time.
Pen Whitcomb put that red-flannel lined leather jerkin in moth balls and appeared in his navy pea jacket. Dink Lundquist began to worry about the possibility of that case of Frontenac ale he buried up on Balch Hill not being below the frost line.
In hopes of signing one on the dotted line, Bill Wallace invited three girls to Carnival—they all said "Yes"—can't blame them, but was his face red?
Doc Griggs, Harry Hillman, and Dean Laycock start their annual round of Sunday night "cider and doughnuts" gatherings.
Halsey Mills dons the spangles of Isadore the Toreador for the Carnival Show and Jack Booth assumes the duties of soloist for the Musical Clubs—the Christmas trip having established him as our leading warbler.
Joe Pollard waxes his skis and sallies forth from Hanover in the early Sunday dawn (which so few of us saw except from the opposite direction) to conduct church and Sunday school services in Lyme for the D. C. A.
Jim Campion completes his masterpiece —Frank Mackedon's five-button suit.
Secretary, 136 Liberty St., New York
