Class of 1927
Well yes, Gordon—we are much obliged for the striking masthead. Some may say it isn't something you see walking down the street every day but then—when you come to think of it a Big Tenth doesn't happen every day in the year either. Again thank you.
As this column is being constructed Doane Arnold is well into his fifth week at the Newton Hospital. Thinking he was to undergo an operation to end all operations on his ailing left wing, the first thing he knew he was in the midst of complications that left him flat on his back with said wing made fast to the yard arm high above. After quite a squally spell for a couple of weeks the weather seems to be taking a turn for the better. All the medicos are of the opinion that it won't be long now before the Skipper can again take his place on the quarter deck, although he will have to confine most of activities to the megaphone for a spell. As might be imagined from the foregoing, this column is at the mercy of Small Ghost Number One and Very Small Ghost Number Two. Now for the mail as time will allow. (Reserve brickbats on that one for S. G. N. O.)
Fritz Kortlucke writes from "Locum Tenens"—which we judge is somewhere far away—not too far from Scotland probably as he says, "I ha'e me doots ifwe'll mak it, for ye ken the wimmen areha'in' bairns; I fear the hairst moon wasso'er bright in September." Aside from that Dr. Fritz seems to be very busy with various branches of medicine with big names that we laymen know are important, but as to their identity we leave that to his confreres. For their information—gyne- cology and orthopaedics. Sheila Maria, the first bairn, is looking forward to her third birthday in August.
Phil Fowler writes from the old stand at 31 Winchester St., Boston, that he will be on deck when the bugle blows on June 11. He offers many suggestions regarding the big event, for the most part swathed in expressions that make the exact meaning a little obscure. One thing is quite obvioushis fond wife must have been at his elbow as he manipulated the pencil, for he has carefully checked "in favor of having wivesreturn." New to some of us is his new but profound interest in matters Shakespearean.
W. J. Satterfield, the old time watersplitter, informs us that chances are looking good for his making connections from Louisville to Hanover at the right time. Bill reports W. J.III practically ready to be measured for one of those slick closefitting black silks that were the envy of so many of us in Hanover. Young Bill has been getting nearer Hanover since March, 1935. Insurance is taking as much of Bill's time as his wife Marion can spare.
Well, well, well—just look at what we have from Deacon Hitchcock. He hasn't changed a bit since he purloined all the firewood from his little boy-friend at the Randall Club. Hitch sent back a questionnaire which fairly bristles with brainchildren. (Parentage unknown.) For instance, while not particular about the motif of the costumes, he is very insistent that there be few if any buttons, advocates avoidance of stripes, feathers, hem-stitching, bias-binding, and tinsel. His major prerequisite is pocket-abundance—wide, deep, expanding, front, back, and both sides.—Hitch has been quite a traveler, hitting Pittsburgh, St. Louis, and Hartford en route to New York, where, according to his story he is now occupying an executive position of great importance and responsibility with one of the country's largest insurance organizations. (Note from V. S. G. N. T.—Something ought to be done about these insurance guys.) Ever since the famous 1927 senior trip up Mt. Washington Hitch has been working with his skis and is glad to be able to report that he is ready to take on Dick Mooney at an all-ski Decathalon.
Fred Jackson is one classmate that many of us would swap places with. In addition to looking for winters with plenty of snow to keep his snow removal contracting business busy, he also finds time to make reproduction antique furniture. Fred cut quite a swath in outboard racing down Maine several years ago. After filling his trophy room he retired, and now puts in time with an easier riding runabout and taking pieces out of clay-pigeons and woodchucks that are careless enough to cross his path.
Our old friend and school teacher Miss Fiditch wires that she ran into Josh Davis in the subway last week, where he muscled in and saved her a seat in the most approved Hawley fashion. While treading on her toes between Washington Square and Central Park he told her that he was going to his tenth reunion at Dartmouth this June and hoped that the class costumes would be something to do with the Duke of Windsor—she wasn't quite clear as to exact details as the train went through a tunnel just then.
A special request number from three of our finest "Bell-boys." Cam Clokey assures us of his presence, but Jack Andrews and Charlie Haynes are still a bit worried as to whether all the transmitters and receivers will be in condition at the time. Cam says that even if Donald (4) and Richard (1) go around cutting wires to try keep him home it will all be to no avail. Jack keeps his two youngsters out of trouble by keeping them busy cleaning barnacles off the yacht bottom, moss off his skis, and turf oil his golf-clubs. Charlie's daughter Marcia, going on five, does very well keeping his slippers polished and the wrinkles out of his newspaper.
Mike Choukas, one of the lucky brothers who gets his three, squares in Hanover, was last seen attempting to sell brothers Arnold and Cummings on attending and assisting in one of his courses entitled "Propaganda." Said brothers were too busy with common garden variety propaganda to take advantage of Mike's offer to see more of the course, which we gather makes a study of the factors affecting public opinion. In addition we found that he is willing and able to take charge of reunion photography. Keep your eye out for the candid camera—the one with Mike's eagle eye at the helm.
Deputy Sheriff Barde is trying to line up all the bad men for Chief "G" man Hoover before the first of June in order that he may take complete charge of Hanover's night activities. With a sheriff, a couple of judges, and a coterie of lawyers this ought to be some party.
And when we say lawyers, we mean just that. The following assure us that they will be there: Fred Parker from St."J", Vt., Gordon Colby of New Haven, Chas. Bartlett, Boston's own, and Dud Bonsai. If they can't keep us out of Bernie's clutches, we'll call upon A 1 Chabot, Kern Folkers, Geo. Friede, and Dick Swartzbaugh. These last few all intimate that they sure will try to be back, and if we provide them with a couple of clients, how can they keep away. Kern studied chemistry at the University of Heidelberg for a year, but decided to concentrate upon law in Washington, D. C. where he now resides. A 1 Chabot and Gordon graduated from Harvard Law with the class of 1930.
We are glad to have a good letter from one who has to struggle daily in a dark blue atmosphere, to wit—Don Colby, the bustling barrister of New Haven. He tells us that the only '27 or thereabouts representatives of the Big Green are Bill Williams and Ed Fowler. Don is a little worried about the avordupois of classmate Clark Edmonds. During a golf match with Don and Ed last fall Clark had to stop four times to sew on buttons. At least we should get a good turnout from the enemy camp. Aside from that the feud between New Hampshire Lawyer Larry Duncan and New Haven Lawyer Don Colby is still at fever heat and being watched with interest from a distance by New York Lawyer Dud Bonsai. We'll keep our nose out of that pie, I guess.
Ed Wyckoff writes from Dallas, Texas, that distance and pressure of business with the Diamond Alkali Cos. will keep him from Hanover in June. Ed, in case you hadn't heard, took his degree in chemical engineering at Tulane. He also says that if anyone is wondering whatever happened to George Woelfel, that he has crossed his path now and then of late in the Lone Star State.
Before the gong rings and the lights go out, we'd like to make mention of two events paramount in our mind. The reunion plans are shaping up for the grandfather of all parties. It is not going to be one to miss—so take opportunity by the forelock and make it—-friends—make it. The other announcement is that the Fund drive is on. We have as an objective everybody on the bandwagon and $2400.00. We need some "jerk" to jerk up our ante, and we're looking for a flock of tugs to pull the old ship '27 back to Hanover. We are short-handed, so sign up soon. And soour slogan—"Back to Hanover."
Small Ghost Number One, "Well, pal, Ican't see that you turned out to be anyworld-beater."
Very Small Ghost Number Two, "Youdon't have to tell me. How do you expect us to compare with this guyArnold. Didn't we try hard."
Secretary, 152 Waban Ave., Waban, Mass
