1940

Having just received the first Indian Drum, which, however well edited, cannot but be opened with misgiving as to its news beats, I am doubtful of ever again making this column, worth its space. A month ago, I wrote about the changes in Class Agent and Drum Editor. So, before the MAGAZINE carrying that dope reaches you, the Indian Drum surges forth to sour that off. Now, based on past experience, I know the news that follows will be dated a couple of weeks when you read this, because the Drum will undoubtedly get it, write it, publish it and get it to you before the MAGAZINE grinds through its monthly process and gets this to your eyes. I don't know how it came about that a Tuck man was worked into a battle with just words with an English major, in the first place. Those well publicized fascist methods will be given full play when it comes time to set up the opponents for another round.

The letters start off this month with a comfortably long one from R. Felt Babcock, who explains that, since graduating summa cum or whatever they call it in the Midwest at Chicago Law, he has been hiding under the next desk to Syd Craig at Sidney, Austin, Burgess & Harper in Chicago, except for what sound like commuting trips to Denver, Washington and Springfield (Illinois, that is) in the interests of S. A. B. & H. Dick contributes the further news that: Syd was editor of the Northwestern Law Review, and came into the firm a couple of months after Dick was signed on: Bob Raclin is working long hours in the family fats and oils brokerage firm and occasionally shows up for a luncheon date; WillRothermel has been encountered cooking up real estate, insurance and other deals, includ- ing a projected purchase of some duck land within striking distance of the windy city; Nat Sample, architect, has been engaged in apparently endless arguments upon the virtues of being low man on a legal totem pole as against ditto on an architectural ditto; and Braden, now on the pinnacle of fame or infamy where no one ever bothers to use his first two names, is several shades darker than brown for extreme silences. That goes for me, doubled.

Next up is Scotty, otherwise known as Major, Rogers, in the midst of the Garmisch recreational program for the Army. He has seen George Shelden, Regional Chief of C.I.C. in Bamberg, talked with Dave Davenport, moved up to Vienna, still with Pan-American, and tried without success to pin down HansJoachim Heinz at his last reported address.

The reunion baby derby, settled last month, has been reopened in favor of Beezie and, of course, Mrs. Smallwood. There being no prize whatever, it seems fair to allow the claim, in spite of the late arrival of announcement. Anyway, Robert Williams Smallwood, 9 pounds of brawn and muscle, arrived on August 9. Beezie is sti!l peddling paving materials for Barrett Division of Allied Chemical, out of Massena, N. Y., whose snowbound condition and consequent lack of paving material business are entirely responsible for Beezie's letter. Beezie reports that he and fellow Phi Psi Bob Williams have reestablished contact through the discovery at Thanksgiving that their wives were Mends from high school in Endicott, N. Y. News of Bob is that he's in Korea for the Army Medical Corps and expected home in the spring for a first look at his baby son.

Still in the interests of recording the expansion of the class, Dick Seidman has a son, David, born November 6. Dick is assistant plant engineer for the Polaroid Corporation in Cambridge, meaning supervision of design, construction and maintenance of production equipment. Dick has encountered Dick York, graduate studying at B.U., and Ralph Palmer, finishing up at Harvard Law and "currently chasing a bubble dancer or a girl named Bubbles, I can't remember which."

And the following from Art Mountrey:

Being one of a large group of New York '40s, I frequently bump into a lot of the boys. At the Dartmouth-Princeton fracas I saw the New Jersey group including Don Schott, Bill Bumstead, VanCleve and some others. Johnny Crandeil is frequently pushed around in the same Bronxville to New York train that I am and often brings me up to date on some of the doings of the gang. BillHutchinson is selling space for the U. S. News and I have had the pleasure of having lunch with him a couple of times. According to Hutch, his two daughters seem to be much more attractive and advanced than most peoples, including my two. I have raised objections to his assumptions, but to little avail. I understand that Doc Hofmeister has retreated to the the north woods to write the great American novel and that Bob Armstrong is ensconced at McGraw-Hill doing trade paper work. Bill Webster, a Section Manager at Lord & Taylor's, managed to procure a couple of white Oxford shirts for me so it just goes, to show you that it pays to keep up contacts. I have seen quite a few others including Syd Craig, Ken McCotter, GeorgeMahoney, Bert Blake—most of them at some Madison Avenue pub or other. Oddly enough, the only one I have seen that doesn't look very much older is Bill Maxon. I guess the Statute of Limitations must be applicable in his case.

The engagements and marriages seem to have pretty much covered the class, for there are none to report this month. But, prospects of the classes of '62 to '68 continue to increase. In addition to those reported above, this month, is Sladen Winchester Hall, who showed at Detroit on November 18 to join his brother in the family of Rowland and Mrs. Hall.

Secretary, 16 Elm St., Montpelier, Vt.

Treasurer, 42 Congress St., St. Albans, Vt