1933
When we wrote that fine piece about Hizzoner Monagan, Mayor of Waterbury, a couple of months back, we were quite proud of the academic thoroughness with which we had reread the ten-year output of '33 notes that rugged literary giant had produced, to cull from that vast accumulation of Monagan wit only those items most deserving of once again seeing the light of print. After many long evenings of diligent research and painstaking critical appraisal, we came up with a couple of items that seemed to us to be preeminently precious Monaganiana. One of them, you will recall, had to do with Hizzoner's election to the presidency of the bd. of aldermen. Now that seemed to us to be a really fine bit of writing, more richly expressive of his rare Gaelic spirit than anything else we'd seen. Imagine our surprise and dismay a few days ago when we received the following sorrowful note from John: "My artist's soul is wounded You said that I had annotated my political career with that phony piece on my election to the presidency of the Board of Aldermen. I should have thought that your dallying among the immortals might have equipped you to separate literary wheat from chaff thereof. The blurb you included sounds like thirdrate Petroleum V. Nasby or the poorer work of the Class Prophet of Hanover High. That junk was appended to my normal stint and appears at best to be Middle Hayward and at worst to be Neo-Dickerson. There is just an outside chance that it could have been one of the trumpetings of Eric Kelly."
So, instead of the author's felicitations for the fine and discriminating choice we had made between his masterpieces, what do we get? A mystery, a few clues, a cold trail, and a frigid assertion that we know not literary wheat from chaff. What is more, the implication is all too clear that we may, at any time, pick up an issue of the MAGAZINE and find that gremlins have climbed all over our copy, reduced the octane rating of our gas, carved their initials on our propeller, poured sand in our carburetor, and raised hell in general. Well, if that should happen, we have Hizzoner to thank for showing us the way out. Dickerson dood it, we'll say.
Here, by the way, is the latest dope on John, the politico. One of our agents, Jim Woods, was in Waterbury not long ago, and he found that it's all quite true what they say about John. He is extremely well thought of and highly esteemed—especially so by barmaids and waitresses, among whom, doubtless for some very good reason, Jim conducted his gallup poll. Their devotion to Hizzoner verges on the Sinatraic. This phenomenon led Jim to conclude that John's batchelor status was probably not having deleterious effects on John's political career. But Jim is a conservative fellow, and doubtless understated the case. We can readily imagine that the infusion of this new blood in the ranks of John's pahty wukkers was a decisive factor in his election. Can't you picture a political meeting in the City of Brass? The band is playing. Various party hacks take turns in whipping up the crowd's emotion —and then, at a precisely timed crucial moment, the lights go out, a spotlight stabs through the dark, and there in the center of the stage, wreathed in cigar smoke, stands "Our Johnnie." There is a moment of quiet. You could hear a heartbeat. You do hundreds of them, thrumming in Democratic cacophony. John's mouth opens. He is about to spe but, before he can, that barmaid, her golden curls dancing to her frenzy, springs up, flings her arms in wild abandon, and, with her eyes rolling on her cheeks, she cries, "You can have me, Johnnie!" Some stuff, eh fellers.
Our news this month, though thinner than we should like, pretty well boxes the compass. From Boston way, our peripatetic and indefatigable reporter, George Rideout, sends word that John Donovan, erstwhile while principal of Newburyport High School, embarked on a military career on December 15, joining the AUS on that date. When George was in Washington recently, he ran into Eliot Blakeslee, now busily engaged in tracking down parties the F.B.I, has an interest in. From New Britain, Conn., comes word that Sam Black has transferred his notable legal talent to that community from New York City, where he has been practising law for seven years. Sam is now General Counsel for the Stanley Works in New Britain. From Portsmouth, N. H., the information that Manny Miller, now a lieutenant in the Army, has been in service for one and a half years, and is at present in training at the AntiAircraft Artillery School at Camp Davis, N. C.
On January 1, Alva Z. Allen was married to the former Dorothy L. Altland' of Massilon, Ohio. Alva is on the faculty of Rhode Island State College in Kingston, R. I. The Little Church Around the Corner claimed another '33 holdout on November 4, when Lt. Brett Osborne AUS was married to the former Miss Ellen "Winston of Herkimer, N. Y.
From Washington, D. C., Page Worthington gives us a roundup of the news there. He writes: "Lt. (jg) Larry Reeves called me on one of his infrequent trips down from his present station at Bainbridge, Md. He has been in the Service for just about a year and is a fully qualified recognition officer, after spending some time at Cornell and Ohio State. I was pleasantly surprised and delighted a few weeks ago to receive a telephone call from Jake Jaquith. Jake was in town for a couple of days, on leave from Fort Benning in Qeorgia. Spent a very pleasant evening with Lt. (jg) "Win Hobbs (now qualified for promotion to senior grade), Bob Kay, and Cal Milans with our wives, at the Milans. It seems that Cal and yours truly are about the only civilians left in Washington. Saw El'lie Blakeslee on the street car a couple of months ago, but had no chance to talk to him—had a few words with Elwood Sager in the Carlton Hotel back in October.... ran across Andrew Dudley in the lobby of the National Theatre at the opening of 'Oklahoma'—Charlie Grob was still around town a couple of months ago."
Ford Marden found time recently both to take a respite from his arduous duties with the Navy to look up a couple of '33s in the Windy City and to drop us a line. He wrote: "Just, a line to report on an elusive recluse of '33. Had lunch with Henry Haley Hixson in Chi the other day. He now is not only 'the coffee king' but the 'chocolate pudding king'—hale and hearty and blessed with a very attractive wife, Lois, and two-year-old daughter, Sue. Talked with Bill and Molly Hoffman by phone. They, like myself, are homesick for Hanover, but Bill is apparently developing a master race at Chicago Latin School." To bring you up to date on Ford's activities: After leaving his job here in Hanover in '41, which, you will recall, was that of keeping the faculty and townspeople well equipped with CheVrolets, he switched to building Liberty ships at the South Portland shipyards. Last year he joined the Navy, and is now engaged in supervising the construction of landing craft.
A late bulletin that's just been handed to me reads that Bob Swander has been promoted and is now Lt. (jg) in the Navy. That's all for the nonce, fellows, but we'd like to leave the thought with you that it would be, shall we say, refreshing to find our mailbox stuffed with '33 news this coming month.
Secretary, 20 Valley RcL, Hanover, N. H. Treasurer, 2812 Grant Bldg., Pittsburgh, Pa.
