Class of 1899
Joe Gannon, chairman Committee of Advertising Acceptability, the New York Times, has a very readable article in the American Press of October, in which Joe details the standards of acceptability set up and maintained by the Times. Among others which are taboo with the Times, are advertisements of hair-dyes, because such preparations may contain dangerous ingredients. Bill Wiggin, beware!
From Charlie Donahue comes the following characteristic note:
"Dear Hobe: The wide range of '99 activities is illustrated by the enclosed clippings from the N. Y. Times, one found byMr. Joseph W. Gannon and the other discovered by me, having, according to custom when Dartmouth plays in New York,made my annual purchase of New YorkSunday papers. Yours, C. H. D."
The first is a review of a book of "urbane and witty essays," written by Katherine Fullerton Gerould, wife of our Gordon H. Gerould. The title is "Ringside Seats." Mrs. Gerould had ringside seats at the Dempsey-Tunney fight in Philadelphia and she "has written a brilliant impression of that combat as classic drama." . . . . It is a book to welcome, perhaps to treasure; certainly—and this is its objectto think about, whether in agreement or the reverse. (Katherine Woods.)
The other is a letter written by Bill Coram—sports writer for the New York Journal and American, which he published in his column November 19, 1937, under the heading "A Gentleman's Letter,About a Gentleman, That Moraga Man." It will awaken tender and precious memories for the men of '99. Here it is:
"Dear Bill:—The St. Mary's football team comes to our town Saturday, and though it has been coming each fall for quite some time now, it always seems to me to be an extra special event, because where the Galloping Gaels go goes Slip Madigan, a gridiron gentleman.
"It must have been back in '32 that Madigan brought what was probably his greatest team East. That year he had a typical St. Mary's line, which means big and fast, and a hatful of hard-plunging, dizzy-footed backs.
"My guess is that it was a better team than Fordham's that fall, although Frank Cavanaugh never exactly coached any toasted marshmallow combinations either at Fordham, or, before that among the green hills of Dartmouth.
"It didn't matter which was the better team on that particular afternoon—and I often think that is the way it is in most football games nowadays—it wasn't in the cards for St. Mary's to win.
"When the echo of the last whistle bounced back off Coogan's Bluff, Madigan must have been a disappointed man.
"But the whistle did blow, and over near the deserted Fordham bench stood Frank Cavanaugh, the victorious coach.
"Apparently the Iron Major was watching the celebrating Fordham rooters tearing down Horace Stoneham's goal posts.
"But Cavanaugh wasn't watching the rooters wrestle the uprights down. He wasn't, for the very good reason that he couldn't see 'em. Even then he was a slowly dying man and almost a blind one, coaching the Rams by the touch system. He was standing there wondering how he could get back to the Fordham dressing room without anybody noticing that he wasn't seeing so well.
"By now all the players had trailed off the field and the victory snake dance had wriggled off behind the band toward the other goal, and ol' Cav had started edging and shuffling toward the clubhouse, his overcoat collar turned up, his derby hat pulled down.
"He was making slow work of it, and he still was thirty yards from the little stairway that all must climb at the Polo Grounds, heroes and bums. And he was alone among the milling thousands, a lonely shuffling figure in an old black overcoat, when a big burly man came dashing over to grab and pump his hand and lead him up the steps into the winning dressing room.
"Which wasn't the dressing room Slip Madigan belonged in that afternoon at all.
We have often envied Geo. G. Clark, as we have seen him in don't care clothes, about his glorious Clarkland in Plymouth. We have imagined him as one of those rare creatures, retired to his ancestral acres with unlimited opportunity for leisure, to work as the spirit moved, to catch up on the unfinished tasks of a busy life, to think about the passing show, and above all to find one's true relationship to the universe. Our envies are idle and our imaginings are empty. We met George in Boston recently and to our inquiry—"What are you doingin Boston?"—He replied: "I have to comedown here to do some work I just couldn'tget time to do at the farm. I need a fewdays of isolation, a chance to hide out, as itwere, until I get it done, so I came to Boston. Things are quieter here." Good Lord!—
Thomas E. Oakes, son of Luther, is a member of the class of '41.
Ray Pearl returned from England November 15, after delivering a course of lectures at London University.
N. P. Brown was made an honorary member of Alpha Chapter of New Hampshire, Phi Beta Kappa, on the occasion of its 150 th anniversary meeting held in Hanover on October 10. Also in attendance were Jim Richardson and Louis Benezet.
Happy New Year to all!
Secretary9 31 Parker St., Gardner, Mass.
