1918*
Well, "Farewell to Youth" is a matter of memory, but what memories—maybe it's one of those Sarah Bernhardt "Farewells," judging from the slinky appearance of most of the men and women at the Twentieth. The whole affair was far, far better than anything Bob Fish promised, and if you know him as well as I do, he doesn't pull his verbal punches!
Attendance? Highest in the history of the College for a aoth year class, and that in a depression year for a class that was "shot to hell by the war!" 143 men, 85 wives, 31 children—259 people in all, crowding two dormitories, Wheeler and Richardson, and not a single casualty in the lot. Weather? Perfect! The only wetdown arrived in time and lasted just long enough to give some of the sistern and brethren a badly needed breather. Uniforms? Thanks to Tom O'Connell and his committee, the niftiest reunion garments ever passed out. Probably doing heavy duty as sports jackets, sailing outfits, and shag costumes, right through the summer.
Refreshments? All you wanted at the bar and in all the private salons. You put in the other "O" if you want to. The dinner? Deans Laycock and Bill at their peak. Harvey Hood at his dirtiest (Shame!). The rest of the orators at their best—the minimum.
The picnic? The roads plastered with signs for miles and miles by ever-efficient Professor Syvertsen. Anyone who failed to make Shanty Shane missed one of the best views, meals, and parties ever given in the hills of Unspoiled Vermont. So enthusiastic were the lads and lasses that reservations of the same premises have been made for '43.
But why go on? Those who were there will need no reminders of one of the best week-ends of their lives. Those who couldn't make it shouldn't have salt rubbed into their wounds.
Special orchids are due to: the Reunion Committee for getting the marvelous turnout and balancing its budget within $11.94; George Hull for bringing himself, charming Freddie, and youngster Dick, all the way from "Springtime in Paris" to be with us; Edith Cooley for the snappy, sensible outfits furnished the ladies and for super-attention to the slightest detail, leaving all the girls in rapture about the dance, the luncheon, and the show; Ed Booth for attending to the dinner, show tickets, ball game, and many other matters, despite heavy personal afflictions in which he has the sincere sympathy of us all; Walt Wiley for his eloquent memorial service on Sunday morning.
Al Street for devoting his time to candid camera shots and taking proper precautions to see that they didn't get into the hands of blackmailers; Bill Mudgett for touring his family all the way from Palo Alto, Calif., and thereby winning the illustrated program prepared by Ed Felt and tacked up in the "business" office; the Cunninghams and Hillikers for making the trip from Denver and return faster than the Burlington "Comet," and how good it was to see them! Mike Pounds for smashing out three successful triples in the softball game oft Sunday; Hugh Whipple for exposing his "Body Beautiful" during the same exercises; Danny Shea for giving a lifelike impersonation of Joe Medwick and training with Leon Alden at that! Johnny Thayer for his music and his muscles in short pajamas; Stan Jones for his direct hit with a 20-kilo water-bomb on the senors and sweethearts of Sigma Chi when they foolishly assembled beneath his window for a reunion photograph.
Christgau for soothing the children and wives: Ben Mugridge for outdoing Fred Astaire with his advance interpretations of the Lambeth Walk; the Valentines for proving that a trailer isn't needed when you move family, house, and lot. My, what a healthy group! Laura Macaulay for supplying glamour and the feminine touch at the reception desk; Martha Robinson, Alberta Blandin, Dotty Davis, Mary O'Connell, and others too numerous to mention for proving that life somehow remains possible with '18 men and needn't affect the girls' looks at all.
Stump Barr for arranging refreshments and settling the numerous lawsuits the class must have left behind it, as well as for accepting the thankless and—believe it or not—profitless job of class treasurer; Dick Holton for certifying that my books were in good shape—may his soul rest in peace; Duke Dusossoit for heading up the Nominations Committee that kicked me upstairs, where I could do little harm and maybe some good. I'll try. Al Gottschaldt for closing his term of secretary in a blaze of glory. Hope I can do half as well. Bee and Al are now learning how to talk "Yankee" at Wellesley, Mass. Full particulars elsewhere. Frank Clahane for boosting the class record in the Alumni Fund for each of the past five years; Bob Fish for accepting as his reunion reward not only the best time of anybody who was present but the toughest job of all, class agent. If you had a good time at the 20th, or if you are planning to have one at the 25th, see that he gets your support.
Those who attended the very impressive memorial service held by Walt Wiley and Charlie Echterbecker at the Memorial Field at Hanover, will recall that it was suggested a letter be sent to the families of those 1918 men, some 35, that have left our midst, and the letter sent to them is as follows:
"The Class of 1918 Dartmouth met in Hanover for its 20th Reunion this year at Commencement.
"Gathered on Sunday morning at the Memorial Tablet at the Stadium Arch, where the memory of the Dartmouth men who gave their lives in the World War is raised in bronze, our classmates with their wives were deeply sfirred as we stood in the spiritual presence of all of our 38 dead through the first memorial service of the class. Our thought was not of only them whom we knew so well, but also of you who had known and loved them even better before and after our abbreviated college years together. With you has been more continuously the pain of separation. We trust that to you also has come frequently, as to us there in Hanover, the sense of their spiritual presence, and with it comfort and strength.
"By official vote of the class this letter carries to you our deep sympathy and a sense of fellowship with you and of honor that may be reckoned among our number."
Wotta man this Ernie Earley is! We just got through electing him secretary-chairman of the class, when the Northwestern Life tried to steal some of our stuff by naming him their number one salesman for the entire country. All of which caused Ernie to take time out; at least he wrote several of us that he was sailing for Italy and wouldn't we pinch-hit on the first class column of the fall, which explains why your ex-secretary, A.C.G., is pounding out some notes.
Those of you who missed the best reunion yet—and it was—possibly don't know that the class destinies are now in exceedingly capable hands. Ernie Earley now holds the dual post of secretary-chairman, Stump Barr is treasurer, and Bob Fish is the new class agent who will get you on the line for the Alumni Fund, or else. They are the three class officers, backed up by an executive committee consisting of Harvey Hood of Boston, Jack Slabaugh of Akron, Johnny Cunningham of Denver, Ed Ferguson of Boston, F. Dusossoit Duke of New York, and Allan Gottschaldt—late of Atlanta. If the powers that be figured on the last-mentioned to represent the Southit will have to be the south side of Wellesley Hills, Mass., for that is the residence now after twenty years in Dixie. My office address is Harold Cabot & Cos., 24 Milk St., Boston. Still very much in the advertising agency business and tickled to death to return to New England. The South is swell, but it's not within 150 miles of Hanover.
And now for one tragic note. Those of you who were at reunion recall the impressive memorial exercises conducted down by the Field by Walt Wiley, assisted by Charlie Echterbecker. It was Charlie who read off the names of our classmates who have passed on—and now Charlie himself has gone to his reward. The sympathy of the entire class goes out to Mrs. Echterbecker and their daughter. Charlie was a member of the faculty at Worcester State Teachers College in Worcester, Mass. He was struck by an automobile in Holderness, N. H., on August 17 and instantly killed. A loyal, devoted member of the class and of the Dartmouth Club of Worcester, Charlie will indeed be sorely missed.
Presumably other narrators will cover the events of reunion for you. But certainly no one will ever forget such highlights as Danny Shea in the soft-ball game ... .a Tris Speaker for grace and covering ground. Or Bob Fish laboring on the tennis court. Or the graceful way in which Harvey Hood, retiring president, paid tribute to all the other class officers, overlooking himself—to receive his own tribute after reunion at a little party engineered by Bob. By the way, Eighteen had more on hand for the "Hanover holiday" than any other class! Nor must we forget Curt Tripp's blossoming forth as a Tin Pan Alley artist, with his parody on the song from Snow White. And if you missed Tom Sturgess and John Sullivan's work on the accordion, why you missed something grand! And wasn't Craven Laycock's speech a humdinger? But Craven always does come through as only he can. The class got quite a kick out of welcoming Harry Hillman and Dean Bill into membership, too, and everyone went away saying what a great job Bob Fish and his reunion committee had accomplished. Al Street and Fritz Cassebeer were shooting all kinds of photos at all times, and soon (if not by now) you'll probably have a chance to peruse these shots to your hearts' content.
By the time these notes are perused, the Harvard game will be coming up. In years past this game has been the reason for a splendid outpouring of Eighteeners, and this fall if you can get to Boston for the game and the class gathering, "we Bostonians" can guarantee you a wonderful old bullfest.
HONORARY MEMBERDean E. Gordon Bill was elected to honorary membership in the class of 1918 at theJune reunion. Harry Hillman was alsomade a member of the class. Bob Fish (right)was chairman of 18's banner reunion.
Chairman-Secretary, 16 Court St., Brooklyn, N. Y.
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