Class of 1900
Two members of the class, Nat Morse and Bill Colbert, have been taken from our thinning ranks during the month of February. Notices will be found in the obituary column.
Mr. and Mrs. Peter S. Toennesen, of Kittery, Me., announce the engagement of their daughter, Miss Sylvia Valborg Toennesen to William Stevenson Emerson. Miss Toennesen is a graduate of the Robert W. Traip Academy and the Plymouth Business School, and is now serving as secretary to the President of Stonleigh College. She is of Norweigan descent, although born in this country, and is a cousin of Sigrid Unset, the Norwegian novelist. Bill, whom the class will recognize as Natt's older boy, is completing his graduate work for a doctorate in chemistry in the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Natt's second boy, John, now in his junior year in college, has recently been elected sports editor of The Dartmouth. He has a real column with picture and everything, just like Bill Cunningham, and what he says carries authority to fossilized members of the faculty, like the Secretary, who take their sports vicariously. Another 1900 son to achieve distinction is Josiah Minot Fowler, who has just been elected to Phi Beta Kappa. Our representatives in the freshman class, sons of Phillips and Miller, are doing well and bid fair to maintain the reputations made by their fathers.
Ben and Mrs. Prescott are making a trip to the tropics, which is to last through March. They will visit Hayti, Jamaica, a couple of Colombian ports, and Panama. This has become an annual event for Ben, and is highly inconvenient for the rest of the class, who must take unwonted precautions in driving through Milford during his absence from the judicial bench. He says he has bought a new movie camera and promises thrilling pictures of the tropics at our next round-up. That is what Ben thinks—but in reality he will get no pictures, because it will be too cloudy to take them, or the ants will eat his films, or they will melt in the tropic heat, or he will forget to insert anything in the camera. We have slender hopes of Ben's movies.
Mr. and Mrs. Walter Rankin have been spending a fortnight in Florida, being for a part of the time guests at Henry Teague's Venetian Hotel at Miami, where they saw, not only Henry, but Gilbert Balkam's son Gilbert, who assists Henry in all his enterprises. The trip was not an entire success, for Mrs. Rankin developed a case of influenza upon their return.
The class is attaining some measure of publicity. In a roundabout way a finely illustrated pamphlet, issued by the Standard Statistics Company to describe its work, came to the secretary. The pictures are most attractive. Right on the front page is one entitled, "A field staff gathers facts attheir source," in which a somewhat depressed-looking person seems to be trying to pump an official of highly distinguished appearance—described in the text as an example of the "key men in the country'simportant industries." Lo and behold, this typical executive is none other than our own Dago Phillips, who appears to be mildly amused at the attempts of the depressed person to "gather information atits source."
Then comes Time of March 1, with an article on William Forbes Morgan, nephew of the better-known J. P., who has just been chosen Pooh-Bah, Judge Landis, Will Hays, or "highly respectable -frontman" of the distilled spirits industryTime says of him, "An investment brokerby trade, Mr. Morgan went to Washingtonin 1933 os deputy governor of the FarmCredit Administration, met and married23-year-old Sarah Jackson Cooney, whosefather was secretary of the Democratic National Committee."
And finally in the New Yorker of March 6 under the heading of "Department ofCorrection, Amplification and Abuse," appears a letter from Arthur Newton, president of the Glidden-Buick Corporation of New York, protesting against a statement in a previous issue of that publication that "General Motors doesn't make atouring car. We know this because we triedto buy one recently." Arthur expostulates, asking why the writer of the article didn't visit his showrooms and see the "thriftyand nimble Buick Special ConvertiblePhaeton . ... or the six-passenger BuickRoadster Phaeton, that's a real ruler ofthe road." Whereupon the writer retorts a retort several columns long, from which it appears plainly that neither the "SpecialConvertible" nor the "Roadster Phaeton" will answer at all; the only vehicle that meets his requirements, so far as the secretary can gather, being an ancient hay-rack with half the rails knocked out to give adequate- ventilation, light, vision, and luggage space. So Arthur gets his free advertising in the New Yorker, and now he is getting more of it in that even more profitable medium, the DARTMOUTH ALUMNI MAGAZINE.
Secretary, 11 No. Park St., Hanover, N. H.
