1942
Before launching into the lives and times of the known portion of the Class of 1942, it might be well if I roughed out where I will be during the next few months in the vain hope that some of you will feel the necessity of writing me to. give me material with which to fill this column. I started this a few days ago on the typewriter of one Jerry Tallmer in New York City, but the situations surrounding his trying to get rid of the apartment he was living in became so involved and the pace so swift that I gave up typing for free-style fingernail biting. The facts which make it difficult for a young man to get rid of an apartment these days are extremely complicated and not a little of Jerry's own contriving. At any rate I'll make no attempt to try and block out the situation, but will say that he is working at the same desk, that of assistant managing editor of The Nation, 20 Vesey Street, New York.
If you think the above paragraph is complicated, your head hasn't really started spinning yet. My exact whereabouts in the next few months are known to no one, with the possible exception of God. I have turned in my uniform at Hanover (that pretty one they give to even minor officials of the Administration—a big "A" superimposed on a background of crossed quill pens) and I have no prospect of immediate employment. Right now I'm living out of my car, a frayed, but extremely respectable 1940 Ford coupe. However, I can be reached by mail by sending it on to the address at the head of this column, which is that of my parents. They, in turn will see that it gets to me by an extremely complicated process involving special couriers, carrier pigeons, and, on occasion, dog teams. So please write in and give our system a trial—we guarantee nothing.
A REPORT ON THE EX-SECRETARY
After leaving Hanover on August 1, with the pleasant prospect of a month's vacation with pay in front of me, I went north to the storied towers of Burlington, Vt., for a long-delayed visit with the Procter Pages. It was a pleasant four or five days with Proc, Ruth, and the pride of the Page household, young daughter Candace, age, three months. In addition to spending some time along the shore of limpid Lake Champlain, I was escorted through the plant of the burgeoning Lane Press, where Proc is a sort of executive officer in embryo. A side trip to the property on the lake where Proc and Ruth hope to build in the reasonably near future brought forth a wounded young veteran named Mulligan. James J. was in the process of vacationing at the summer home of his wife's parents and was hobbling about on a cane, carrying his disability with gay-hearted courage. He acquired the cane and a damaged ankle when an overly-healthy young man ran over the top of him and nigh trampled him to death in a successful effort to break up a double play in a company soft-ball game in New Britain, Conn. Jim was both the pivot man and the middle man as it turned out. His wife Jimmy and son, David Phillips, a healthy, red-headed young man of a little over a year, were vacationing with him.
The next weekend I went over to Charles McLane's summer place on Newfound Lake, N.H., and there found, among others, Joe andAnn Palamountain who were taking a weekend off from their Boston chores. Joe is in the graduate school of political economy and government at Harvard and according to one of my Cambridge scouts (a small man with a crimson nose) Joe is setting the place on fire scholastically speaking. In two semesters of graduate work, he once plummeted to an A minus, but bears up under that disgrace quite manfully. Ann has an important position with R. H. White, a Boston department store, and, I understand, gives Joe a liberal allowance enabling him to keep well stocked with cubebs and bubble gum.
From here I went home by a circuitous route which included large tracts of Connecticut, New York and Ontario. While there I made connections with Bill Mitchel, one of the guiding generals of the Ford Motor Cos., an up-and coming young concern which may well be much heard of one of these days. From him I learned that the befuddled bachelor of New Jersey, George Brickelmaier, was no longer to be a bachelor anyway. Mitch was extremely good authority on this for he was to be best man at the ceremony. I regret to say that I am hazy on any more specific details—you know, little things like the bride's name, the date and place of the wedding, and the heights and weights of all the players. Also in Detroit, I toured the links doing what I fondly believe is playing golf in the company of Bob Dewey. This enterprising young man, who has changed jobs only a little less often than his shirt in the past year, had just consummated another change. He had left his position with an ice cream concern, craftily getting himself a week's vacation with pay as a sort of terminal leave, and had let out his services to Lou Maxon, Inc., an advertising agency, shrewdly stipulating a week's vacation with pay as a starting inducement for his valuable talents. I was with him on an historic occasion—the first time anywhere, on any links, under any circumstances, that Robert Bacon Dewey cracked 100 for eighteen holes!
1942's HANOVER CONTINGENT GROWS
To shorten this account of my travels considerably I rushed back to New York last week, spent about a week there and am once again in Hanover, cleaning up odds and ends before a final departure. Following will be a varied assortment of tag ends of information I have picked up second hand by hearsay and through the clipping services of the ALUMNI MAGAZINE. There are some new additions to the Hanover Branch of the 1942 Watch and Ward Society: Alex Fanelli, along with wife Betty and son Chris, is now in residence here. He will work as an assistant in the public affairs laboratory of the Great Issues Course for the coming academic year. Ed Chalfant will also be in residence by the time you read this, as an instructor in the English Department. KeithProuty and Bob Fisher were both here for the summer semester finishing up their studies, along with other old hands such as Bill McMahon and Bob Schoonmaker. Still in the scholastic line, both Merrill McLane and his wife and Mike and Polly de Sherbinin have gone abroad to the University of Geneva, Switzerland, for graduate work. Dave Teahan received his D.D.S. from NYU last June and is now a full-fledged extractor. By now Bob Garwick's wife, Catherine, and children have joined him in Ethiopia where he has been working as a petroleum geologist since June. Dave Godfrey was promoted to the position of sales office manager in the Somerville, Mass., plant of the Ford Motor Cos. in August. Large Chick Camp has returned to his Ad Bldg. desk after a gruelling ten weeks' summer course in college administration at the University of Chicago—Martha and the kids are also back from the midwest, having been with Martha's parents in Indiana. Chick saw Ford Coffman out there, the latter being a student in divinity school.
MAINLY MATRIMONIAL
And now the vital statistics: EngagementsMiss Doris Eleanor Schwanhausser of Short Hills, N. J., to Walt Friend (August); Miss Ruth Doris Henze of Bayside, N. Y., to RolandHummel (June). Marriages: Miss Katherine Grace of Hinsdale, 111., to Dick Riggs in July (one of the ushers, Hal Eckardt); Miss Esther Brainard of Hamden, Conn., to Phil Locke (July); Miss Charlotte Ruprecht of Englewood, X. J., to Jim Erwin in June (among the ushers. Frank Bartlett and Jim Rendall), Miss Anita Drew of Glen Ridge, N. J., to Bill Witman (June). Births: Harry Alan Jacobs III, son of Harry and Marie Jacobs in New York City in August.
Before closing I think you all should know that our class advisor, Prof. Herbert F. West '22, who even after his job officially ceased with our graduation, has shown genuine and considerate interest in our doings as a class and individuals, was stricken with a heart attack recently and has been quite seriously ill in Dick's House. X am happy to say that the doctors state that he is on the road to recovery, but it will unfortunately be a somewhat slow job. I'm sure he would appreciate it if you would drop him a line from time to time during his convalesence.
And, finally, send in that four bucks for class dues for the year 1947-48 (which will automatically take care of your ALUMNI MAGAZINE subscription) to Jack Harriman as soon as possible.
Secretary, 1092 Gray ton Rd., Grosse Pointe Park 30, Mich. Treasurer, Box 229, Route 2, Los Altos, Calif.
