1932

So you want to know what's cooking? It's a pretty good menu for these war times, all things considered, and as cook and washer of bottles I shall proceed without further ado, to dish it up. Since this is now the fourth year of the war, we're out of hors d'oeuvres, soup, bombes glacees, and other sidelights, and can move on to the piece de resistance.

Your old friend Bob Morrison, no vegetarian though a dealer in fruits and vegetables, calls up from his new digs in North Caldwell, N. J., to say he feels fine, and that he is manager of the Newark offices of Sawyer and Co., a food brokerage firm, which distributes car-load lots of fruit and vegetables in the Jersey area. Bob and Ann have two children named Ann and Bob, born respectively on the 19 January, 1942, and the 31 July, 1944. His many friends who may have time to drop him a communique can address him at Grandview Place, R.D., North Caldwell.

While we're on the food subject, it may be well to record that Lt. Carl McGowan USNR has got himself engaged to a peach. No heart of stone neither. She's Josephine Vail Perry of Boston and Dover, a Bryn Mawr alumna, and a Boston Junior Leaguer. Glad to welcome Peaches Perry into the class roster.

Despite the vegetables, fruits, and other various objects hurled at the PAC in the hot days towards the end of the campaign, that organization proved its strength and its ability to come through with dignity and integrity, and your secretary, no Roosevelt-or-Hill- man-Hater, is glad to record that a good part of that success was traceable to the work of two Dartmouth men, Fred Maquire '24, and Ping Ferry of your own class, who acted respectively as chief of press relations and publicity director. They tell me Ping is now taking a well-earned rest, his face by balloting time having become as deeply grooved with responsibility as—well you name something that is deeply grooved with responsibility, if you think you're so smart.

Come to think of it, there's a bottle of wine I've been saving for just such an occasion as this when the provender was relatively scarce, though I've kept it so long it's a bit dusty now. It's in the form of a letter from John Clark's Rhoda, who says:

John has been gyrating since April from Washington to London to Algiers, thence to Italy and there his job got him attached to the 7th Army. His letters are now most vivid accounts of wine, women, and song, as they scoot rapidly up through the Midi, which is unfairly put, for the wine has only rarely been slipped to him by some oldster, when John has been referred to some patriot's home to learn how to find bread for his unit; the women have been (so far as he has mentioned todate), four girls who . kissed him "Dietrichly" after he took them to their village in the Army truck; and the song would be the V-for-Victory cheers of the populace who put chairs on the roadside to watch the Yanks go tearing by all day. But the rest is C rations and bivouacking in new orchards every night and no mail or barracks bag, both having failed to catch up with him—which he hastens to add is indicative of how well things are going with the 7th Chuck Owsley was incommunicado for three months last spring, so that he and John didn't get together until one Saturday just before John checked out for Algiers. They both wrote cheerfully of their junket, the 8th Air Force captain going so far as to predict they wouldn't meet again until they got to Paris. Any day now I expect that they, plus Major Hosmer whose AA outfit was set up in a Normandy orchard last I heard, will be whooping it up in the Montmartre night clubs, though they have a bit of work to finish up to the east right now. Also in London John saw Al Gerould, but they never got together since Al was working night shifts. In Italy John met up with Bo Wentworth (Major) who is exec, officer of John's outfit and was in touch with Sonny Foley near at hand. They arranged a threesome dinner for Saturday, July 29, but Sonny (captain in a replacement depot) never showed up at the "dukey officers' club which sits up on a hill overlooking the bay."

Thanks to Rhoda for setting the record straight, despite interruptions from the three Clarklets, including the youngest redhead nicknamed Windy (real name: Winfield Shaw Clark) whose total acquaintance with his daddy is of six days' duration. And Rhoda says any 32's passing through New Boston, New Hampshire, ought to look in on her menage and see these Clarklets.

Banquet's over until New Year's. You are respectfully requested to surrender your ration points (in the form of lettersful of news) so that the chef can get some more pieces de resistance for another menu. Merry Christmas.

Secretary, 178 Prospect Ave., Princeton, N. J. Treasurer, 7 North St., Old Greenwich, Conn.