THOSE "DEAR,DEAD DAYS"
I WONDER IF PRESENT-DAY STUDENTS at Dartmouth maintain "Memorabilias" like we did back in the early part of this enlightened century. In those days they had big books bound with a green cover, the Dartmouth seal stamped in gold on the front, and if you bought 'em first hand you'd get your name and class, or fraternity in gold without extra charge. Mine cost me half that, because I got it from a senior who'd never had the energy to keep it up. What difference does it make if the name of Elon Graham Pratt 'O6, is yet visible? "Fat" did me a favor, and the stuff I pasted in it is mine—reminders of college happenings that might otherwise be forgotten.
That old Memorabilia is beginning to show signs of age. Its backbone is coming apart, and its pages are brown and brittle, but it tells a running story of my four years in college, fully illustrated with snapshots, newspaper clippings, fraternity and social keepsakes, programs, records of my scholastic standings each semester (these dpn't look so hot)—even notices that I got from Chuck Emerson who was Dean.
Leafing through its pages tonight, an old handbill brought to mind a vaudeville troup we organized during junior year. It was headed, "TONIGHT at G. A. R. Hall, Hanover, the J. Edward Mitchell Comedy Cos. Presents an Evening of Vaudeville." A list of acts followed, and tickets were priced at 50c, 35c, and 25c, any one of 'em a bargain, if you considered the number of skits. The time of year was late winter and there was plenty of snow on the ground.
J. Edward Mitchell was a little Irishman who thought he was an actor, because he had taken part in a medicine show one season. He, Charlie Truman, official steamfitter of the College, and I were the promoters of this high class theatrical package. The program included these acts: 1. Overture—Walter Golde '09. 2. The Finish of Ike Lewenski—Comedy Sketch. 3. Chas. Truman and Jack Childs '09, Real Ragtimers. 4. Fred Morowski '09, and Ray Gorton '10,—Smooth Steppers. 5. "Haunted House"—Comedy Farce. 6. Johnny Baker Jr. Rifle and Pistol Shooting. 7. Hastings '11, Watson '09, and Childs— Novelty Instrumentalists. 8. Chas. Truman—The Georgia Boy. 9. J. Edward Mitchell Jr. and Fred Morowski—lrish Happy Hooligan and the Lady. 10. Woodward Bros, (townies)—Sweet Singers. 11. A Street Argument—Sketch by the Entire Company.
Tickets sold about as fast as we could pass 'em out. It had been a long winter in Hanover and the gang must have been starved for entertainment. The 50c and 35c seats were supposed to be reserved up front, but when that mob crowded in the hall the night of the show, the 25c guys made a rush and copped all the good positions. Dutch Schildmiller 'O9, well known athlete and my roommate for three years, was hired as head usher, and for his services we had agreed to slip him five bucks. Other ushers worked for free tickets.
The acts couldn't have been too bad, because the audience was well behaved right until the last one which was the ghost scene—a guy coming out in a white sheet. That was when the boys went into action. Much to our surprise, Schildmiller threw the first squash. Then there was a barrage of vegetables and snowballs, seats were overturned, and it looked for awhile as if the old G. A. R. hall would be demolished.
Charlie Truman almost turned pale, but he had sense enough to grab the cash box and crawl out a rear window. Here he was tackled by some of the rioters who dragged him on his (you know what) for a hun- dred yards or so. "But I hung on to dat cash box," he said afterwards when I met him at his house. "And to think dat our own usher, Dutch Schildmiller, started all dis."
The damage wasn't as bad as we thought it'd be—in fact, about all to be done was to rearrange the chairs. We never did pay Schildmiller the five bucks, but we slipped five-spots to Morawski, Gorton, Hastings, and Watson. Charlie, J. Edward Mitchell, and I, the promoters, each took down about 45 smackers after paying the other expenses, and that was pretty good sugar in those days.
Of that gang of would-be entertainers, Freddie Morowski, a swell little gent who was always popular in our class, was one of the first to die after graduation. Walter Golde turned out to be a well-known musician, at one time serving as Madam Schumann-Heinke's accompanist. Dannie Watson, one of my favorite companions, is a big cut sole merchant in Boston. Dutch Schildmiller, the last I heard, was working in Hamilton, Ohio, after a number of ups and downs in his business career. Rollie Hastings has a dude ranch in California, but went back with International Business Machines to render service during the war. Charlie Truman, unless something has happened to him this last year, is still working for the College. I never did find out what became of J. Edward Mitchell and the others, but I'll gamble that they never got very far in the acting profession.
The old G. A. R. hall, where we used to have dances and other entertainment, has been torn down long since. It was good to us old-timers and we won't forget it.
Smaller Type This month the MAGAZINE begins the use of smaller type for all features and for class notes, in order to reduce the number of pages and yet present approximately the same contents as in the past. The reduced type sizes are slightly less readable, but a sampling of alumni opinion confirmed the editors' belief that our readers would much prefer this temporary expedient to the shortening of class notes and the elimination of some regular features.
