Class of 1935
"It's getting pretty bad, in fact g**tb $ mm terrible the way the alumni notes section of the ALUMNI MAGAZINE has beenturning into a monthly report of what theboys in New York City and New Englandare doing to New York and 'in' New England. With this in mind it seems only fitting that a few of us fellows 'way out somewhere should rise up and 'rite.'" This from Bob Williams, "way out" in Billings, Montana, and I wish a few more of you gezaboes would get enough annoyed to do something similar. If last month's column didn't offend Western sensibilities, you must be getting plumb callous. So, let Bob tell his own story: "I am now in completecharge of the service department of theWilliams Motor Company (NB. WilHams, Williams, Williams, Williams, longbreath, and Kissick. One of these thirdbasket companies, I reckon W. F.).All this means that at present the family isabsorbing all the 'loss,' and Mr. R—t. all theprofit. Our motto is, 'Better Buy Buick,'or we don't eat." Young Bobby is two and a half and with the aid of his penny bank, a Dragon Mug, the Williams have a new house, which is more than most of us can say, penny bank or no penny bank.
"To those in Montana Bo Kreer is practically drabbling his feet in the Atlantic. From a Chicago Wrigley eyrie in the Editorial and Plan Department of J. Walter Thompson Company, Bo ladles out great dipperfuls of news as bait in a quest for Carl Spengeman's address. In a peaceful little nook to the northwest quaintly characterized as Niles Center there is now among other things a three-months-old daughter, Katherine, who as Katherine Kreer of Niles Center is already a thing or two. (Uncles Sellmer, Corn well, Bill Smith, and Bob Doyle please note.) But why should I paraphrase an advertising man:
"I see Bud Steinle once in a while. He's moved West to sell the local yokels nuts and bolts or sewer pipes or something. Don Koehler was recently married to Dorothy Seymour of Oak Park, lives in Evanston, sells space for McFadden. I have lunch with Don and Bill Walrath, who is in the advertising business too (research department of B. B. D. & O.) about twice a week. Dick McKnight is married and has a baby daughter, Marcia. He is working in a local woman's apparel store. (Good job for R. M.!) Ted Steele newspapered through before going on to a job in Kenyon College, Ohio. Bill Eisendrath is practicing to be an executive with his father's leather company, and Ted Huck is doing the same thing for his dad's firm, the Chicago Extruded Metal Company. Ted, incidentally, just announced his engagement to Barbara Watrous, a Winnetka chum of my wife's, whom we manage to lose to quite regularly in bimonthly bridge.
"Bob Morris is working for a lumber company here, and Art Bamford, now that he's learned the baking business, is expected to show the boys how to run the Baker's Weekly very soon. Owen Fair weather is in law school at the University of Chicago, and doing very well. I ran into Jimmy Alfring attending some sort of a convention here by way of the Drake bar.
"Please shed a few tears for Kreer, will you? My kid brother got a four-year scholarship to Princetonl The only fun I've had since he went down to that God-forsaken place was the Saturday night of the Dartmouth-Princeton game last fall. Need you ask what the telegram said? Love and kisses, Bo KREER."
Just to prepare you for the necessary journey back to Dayton, where Phil Hemphill makes the wheels go 'round in the Huffman Company, there's a breath of the Pacific from Lowie Haas in Seattle how's that, Bob?—nostalgia for green wooded hills from the woolly section of the Georgetown station of the United Air Lines. AI Tacy turned up unexpectedly in the grill room of the Olympic Hotel in the process of promoting Cadillacs, glimpsed the huge seventy-two passenger Boeing Clippers in construction, and then rushed back to Detroit. Dud Russell was in Seattle for New Year's on his way back to Duluth.
Pug Atherton holds down the home office in Los Angeles for the Matson Navigation Cos. after a visit home (to Hawaii), and periodically awaits Dutch Van Dourn, who shuttles between Australia and Honolulu most of the time. Somewhere a letter from Hemphill is supposed to catch up with him.
"Bob Naramore is located in Detroitmarried, as you probably know. Did the>trick Yale week-end and took the wifeyback to the lake city with him the nextMonday. In some quarters he is known asSpeed Naramore."
In an old mansion in Detroit with teakwood floors and an Indiana limestone front broods Frank Corlett. Maybe he isn't brooding at all, but every piece in the house was from the "best selection of special stock used in the interiors of Pullman cars," lovingly furbished by Colonel Hecker, who once lived there and presided over the destinies of the Peninsular Car and Foundry. It is a picture of departed greatness, and Frank, looking back on his term as export manager of the Covered Wagon Company, as assistant to the sales manager of Silver Dome, Inc., as assistant to the wholesale sales manager of the Brunswick-Balke-Collender Cos., as sales forecaster for General Motors, and now as salesman for Brunswick-B-C, must feel a certain diminuendo from year to year. But listen: "The exterior looks like that of anearly French chateau, with towers at eachcorner, and all it needs is a drawbridgecoming up from Woodward Avenue tomake it impregnable to Hearst's YellowPeril."
Having sufficiently propitiated the West —at least for the time being—l think some mention should be made of the following headline I received the other day: "YOUNG REPUBLICANS RETURNNAYOR TO PRESIDENCY! Under theleadership of President Nayor the localclub the past year made such rapid stridesin membership and prestige that it nowranks as one of the foremost young Republican organizations in the state Mr. Nayor is also president of the Brookline Voters' League and an election officerin Precinct i, and is chairman of the Dartmouth Information Committee for Brookline High." Charlie is apparently started.
The time is coming around when all these mugs who embarked on the long trail of medical school and law school are finishing ing up. One of the most successful has been Johnny Jewett, who has been chosen as one of twelve from over a hundred and twenty applicants to the rotating service in the Philadelphia hospital, home of blue bloods so blue that the internes forget what arterial blood looks like. But they don't forget much else. It's one of the finest hospitals in the country.
From far South comes a plaintive call that Earl Arthurs has succumbed to that accent at last. Early in December the engagement was announced, and on April 30 is his wedding to Jane May Pierce of Syracuse and Charlotte, N. C. ("incidentally, daughter of his boss"). Bud Childs is best man, and there will be quite a cohort of Dartmouth men there. In the meantime, Earl has been promoted to Atlanta, which is an odd way to put it if you stop to think about it. Bob Hage, who thus spills the beans, will be back in New York himself after the middle of March.
If he gets here by the 23d of March he will be just in time for a big, bang-up, super-splendid class dinner at the New Dartmouth Club. There has been a membership campaign going on for the last three weeks, and we are all a little bleary at the speed with which new members have come in. Fellers, we got a real club this time. But I don't dare say any more for fear of another letter from that Williams man.
Harry Libbey, about whom I inquired tenderly last month, has turned up in Washington. I talked to his landlady at any rate and was regaled with the news that he had just returned from a trip to Tennessee and that he was in the theatre business in a vague sort of way. I had to be content with that and left without seeing him.
Sleepily regarding me first with astonishment and then with growing recognition, Don King bared his classic soul after an early morning awakening to disclose that he expects to be married this summer. The prospective bride, who could talk only French up to the age of six, is Miss Louise Dupraz. In the meantime Don is pounding out a doctoral thesis on the economic importance of the Hellespont (Dardanelles today) in ancient times. As you naturally remember, its chief importance in modern times is that Richard Halliburton swam across. Don is John Howell Westcott Fellow in Classics at Princeton, and spends most of his time, when not thinking of Louise, crossing and re-crossing the Hellespont in the Princeton library. At the same time he has been perking up his French so as to be able to keep up with the relations. He got off a coup d'eclat pronouncing Besancons, where Bill George was last year. Still, the major King activity still comes a. coups de livres, which, as you've guessed, means hitting the books.
And as for me, gentlemen, I retire. .... I'm going to frappe that hay, in fact.
Secretary, 68 Cambridge Place, Brooklyn, N. Y.
