Class of 1920
You will remember that last month I had a note that Pab Sample won a medal for a painting in a Philadelphia exhibit. Bill Cunningham 'l9 apparently read about this also, but instead of writing six lines he gave it five columns in the Boston Post of February 9. I feel that the article is so interesting, especially for those around our time, that this month's notes will be confined to quoting as much of the article as space permits.
Bill's article is titled "Recalls Saga of Dartmouth." The first few paragraphs deal with the difference between the present Carnival and those of our day, plus the fact that he had read about the medal Pab had won.
"On the face of it, there isn't any moreconnection between those two events [theCarnival and Pab Sample's medal] thanthere is between Haile Selassie's umbrellaand the left of that Signor Antonio Shuccowho outpointed the elderly Squire Sharkeyin the Garden Friday night. And still there>s a connection, a mighty connection. Itspans almost two decades, and its principalthread is a saga of courage almost unmatch-able and the unsuspected discovery of atalent almost unbelievable.
"Dartmouth men of the ivar era won'trecognize the name Paul Starrett Sample,but when I say 'Pab Sample,' that'll besomething else again. For Paul StarrettSample is Pab Sample, our Pabby. And heand his brother, Din, and a little fellownamed Gin Plumb were the hottest saxo-phone players of our undergraduate days.Plumb's baptismal name was Gordon. Thenickname was automatic. They were thesaxophone battery about which the car- nival dances and all other dances of thatday and time revolved.
"Dartmouth had probably had jazz bandsbefore. Arch Earle and Bones Joy weregreat piano players just ahead of our era.John Sullivan, who when last seen was inthe bond business somewhere aroundNewspaper Row, and Gyp Green, now abloated theatrical magnate around suurban Boston, were banjoists of note. Theeminent Dr. Raymond (Slats, to youse) Baxter, now an distingiushed medico in theenvirons of Fairhaven, played a mean set oftraps with that crew, if memory servescorrectly.
"They were pretty good, but Dartmouthmelody hit a new high when the Samplebrothers, Plumb, the Andretta brothersfrom over Hartford way, a pianist namedBreglio, who slapped the hottest set of horseteeth of anybody for miles around, a coupleof trap drummers named Bill Terry andBill Perry, and assorted others formed whatwas known as the Barbary Coast Jazz Band."They had all sorts of spares, assistants,and replacements, but they were the nucleus. Dick Willis, now in Manchester,N. H., and Johnny Chipman, now a dignified Boston merchant, used to box thepiano around with them occasionally, andHis Honor, Alvin Lucier, now mayor of thecity of Nashua, sawed a torrid fiddle withthem, as did a freshman with loving-cupears and a grin like a Hallowe'en pumpkin,named Morgaji. Mr. Morgan is now one ofBoston's more dignified and upper-case realestate men.
"To hear these guys with somebody likeCon Beattie or Bob Elsasser singing 'thevocal chorus' was an experience in meetingyouth, health, romantic dreams, and musicall in one precious and perhaps explosivemoment.
"I've always had my suspicions of saxo-phones after what happened, although itmay have been merely tragic coincidence-nothing else. Pab and Din Sample and GinPlumb blew those ridiculous things thatmake such marvelous melody. All threelads, and the College never knew threefiner, broke completely in health. Din andGin died, and Pab only won through aftera battle with tuberculosis that carried himdown to the uttermost brink. It was tuber-culosis likewise that brought Din's death.I never knew precisely what Gin's troublewas, but I'm under the impression that itwas either his heart or his lungs. He diedalmost as soon as he left college, and Dinand Pab were stricken while still undergraduates, Din first.
"The Sample boys were big fellows. Eachwas over six feet. Each was a basketballplayer of varsity caliber. Pab, the heavierand more athletic of the two, was also amember of the varsity football squad. Butthe outstanding thing he did athleticallywas to win the heavyweight boxing championship of the College, and that win wasscored through a technical knockout administered to the burly captain and starguard of the varsity football team, CyAschenbach, none less.
"Pab could really take it and likewisedish it with his fists. It was the likes of him,then, with school and college athletic back-ground and a fine war record as an ensignin the navy, who found himself strickenwith the dread disease. Din had gone toSaranac first, and the summer after he graduated, in 1900, Pab was in Saranac to seehim when the doctors examined him andtold him that he too was a victim.
"An almost unbelievable thing happenedas these two brothers lay, in that hospitalto the northward. The hours are long inthose places, and men try almost anythingat times to while away the dreary monotonyof those endless days of waiting to seewhether they are fated to live or die.Neither of the boys had ever harbored artistic ambitions. Beyond blowing rhythmicnotes through their musical plumbing,neither had ever made even a gesture toward what is known as the arts.
"Strangely, however, in this lonely exile.,each discovered a gift he didn't know hepossessed. Din, scribbling with pad andpencil, suddenly discovered he could write.He wrote powerful, beautiful, and compelling prose. His first manuscripts, submittedto the higher-class magazines, were eagerlyaccepted, and orders were sent him formore. His death, which came slowly butrelentlessly, unquestionably robbed thiscountry of a rich talent that never had areal chance to assert itself, but before itsuch choosey magazines as the American Mercury featured writings of his. A greatmany men have tried to write about Dartmouth, but none has ever written a finerappraisal of that institution and of undergraduate life in it than was published under Din's by-line in the above-named magazine. Sadly, however, he wasn't fated to live.
"It was Pab who remained to fight thelong fight alone. It took him four bitteryears even to get his case arrested. In themeantime, however, he had discovered alove of colors and an unsuspected talent forarranging them in pictures. He discoveredhe could draw—a little crudely at first, butwith increasing skill. He'd never done anysketching in college nor in any of the yearsbefore. Looking back on it now, he says herealizes that pictures and colors always interested him, but not in any self-assertivefashion.
INTEREST IN ART
"In Saranac at that time was an artist,Jonas Lie. It was association with him andwatching him work that gave Sample hisfirst real interest in art. But it gave himmore. It gave him the will to fight and thedesire to live. He had been discouraged,heartbroken over his beloved brother'sdeath, and upon the point of giving up hisown battle as hopeless. This new interestwas the spark that brought him the necessary will. His climb back to health ismarked from the hour he first took a picture in his hand and first touched a brushto paint.
"In 1930 I went to Los Angeles to coverthe big football game of that year betweenthe University of Southern California andNotre Dame. Someone of the Westernbrothers invited me to a luncheon of theDartmouth Club of Los Angeles, and thereI was delighted to meet again the same old'Pab,' looking as big and strong as in theold days. He said everything was fine, andthat he was teaching an art class in theUniversity of Southern California, hishealth was recovered, and everything wasokeh. He insisted that I come out to hishome in Pasadena for dinner, and it wasthere that even a. cluck such as I could begin to gather an idea that his interest in artwasn't confined to teaching a few youngladies and young gentlemen how to drawa line or spank some color on a canvaswith a camel's hair brush. On the wall overbehind his back while he was talking to mewas a fairly large, brightly colored picturefull of sea, sky, and fishing boats. Allthrough the evening I found myself lookingmore and more at that particular picturewhile we talked of the old days, the present,and 'what's become of whom.'
"Back in Boston, as I tamped the shavings from a plug into a pipe one night., Igazed at the blank space up over the mantel,and somehow that picture kept comingback to mind. Rustling a sheet of foolscap,I wrote Pab a letter. 'I don't know muchabout art or its value,' I confessed, 'but ifyou'll sell that picture of those fishermendrying their nets for any kind of dough Ican afford, I'd like to buy it. I've suddenlybecome a fan for a picture.' In due course,back came a reply, saying, 'I think thatparticular picture is one of the best I'vedone, and, as a matter of fact, I'd like tokeep it. I can't think of but one price Ican put on it, and that's this: if you'll sendme the Boston Post for the rest of my lifeI'll send you the picture.' Good old PabThat was his way of saying, 'I'd like to giveyou the picture.'
"A big art dealer chanced to enter myquarters on an entirely different mission Istarted to talk to him about whatever thesubject was that brought him into theplace, when he suddenly saw the pictureand stopped as if shot. 'That's Sample's"Inner Harbor," isn't it?' he said. 'I don'tknow whose harbor it is,' said I, 'a friendof mine named Paid Sample painted it.''What's that picture doing in BostonV hesaid in much excitement. 'l'm renting it forten bucks a year,' I said. 'You're what?' healmost screamed. I explained the deal. 'Anytime you want to sell it,' he said, 'I can getyou enough money to send him, all hisrelations, and all his friends the Post forthe rest of their lives, and maybe even theirchildren.'
"The next time I sat up and blinkedabout young Mr. Sample was when I pickedup the magazine Time and saw an entirearticle devoted to American art. High upnear the top, after they finished talkingabout Grant Wood, at cetera, was the mention of Paul Starrett Sample as one ofAmerica's most brilliant younger figures.
"It was in California again this last tripas we sat in Pab's studio, mulling over agrand day we'd had with Zack Jordan andGene Markey, when I asked, 'Just whathave you done in the matter of medals andsuch truck with this painting of yours? Ikeep mentioning your name and watchingart people look awestruck. What's beenhappening?' 'Nothing,' said he, 'l've sent afeia pictures around, and some of themhave been lucky enough to get mentionedhere and there, but that doesn't amount toanything. I don't even know '
"But Mrs. Sample later handed me apaper while Pah wasn't looking. And itseems this is all the young man has done,only this:
"He has won prizes in the following exhibitions: Pennsylvania Academy of FineArts; Chicago Art Institute; Corcoran Biennial, Washington; Whitney Museum ofAmerican Art, New York; City Art Museum, St. Louis; Chicago World's Fair; SanDiego Exposition; Carnegie InternationalExposition, Pittsburgh; San Francisco ArtAssociation; Toledo Museum of Art;Worcester Art Museum; Springfield (Mass.)Art Museum; Allbright Museum, Buffalo;and a lot of others.
"Some of his work is included in theCarnegie Foundation's exhibition of American painting which is now touring theBritish Empire. For the past two years hehas had one-man shows in the FerargilGalleries in New York. Pictures of his havebeen bought to hang in the White House inWashington, the Springfield (Mass.) ArtMuseum, the Canajoharie (N. Y.) Museum,the University of Southern California, theWood Art Museum of Montpelier, Vt., theLos Angeles Board of Education, theFoundation of Western Art in Los Angeles,and the West Museum at Swarthmore College, Pennsylvania.
"He was commissioned to paint the Morris Dam of the TV A project last year forthe magazine Fortune, and has just completed a series of oil paintings of the Anaconda Copper Mines in Butte, Mont., to illustrate a forthcoming article in the samepublication. His next big job is a series ofheroic murals which will decorate the newlos Angeles post office, the commissioncoming from the U. S. Treasury Department.
Secretary 158 State St., Albany, N. Y.
