1935
I am herewith putting myself up for nomination as the Class Dope, and I'm going to win hands down. There isn't another guy in the class can compete with me. The gent who doesn't know enough to come in out of the rain is a genius and a "summa cum" when you stack him up against your old Uncle Reg. I've got the swellest case of poison ivy all over my hands and face. And I didn't fall into it in the dark. I deliberately went out and pulled up poison ivy roots with my bare hands. I knew it was poison ivy and I knew that I could catch it because I've had it before. And I kept saying to myself, "Now, Reg, you hustle right in the house and scrub those hands with laundry soap, and do it good." But it was hot, and I stopped for a beer, and pretty soon I forgot all about where I'd been and what I was supposed to do. And by the time I thought of it I was just too damned late. Now I look like the black death or an old leper. I'm plastered with white-wash, and brownwash, and balm, and more advice comes to me than to Harry Truman. People know more remedies for curing this bloody itch than for stopping hiccoughs. I'm stared at on the street like a ghost. I can't shake hands. I'm carefully avoided by countless old friends who say they can't come near it without catching it themselves. I'm anathema. And if any of you are that susceptible you'd better stop reading and go out and scrub yourself because every cute little letter on this typewriter must now be the proud bearer of my affliction. And it's all funny as hell except it isn't funny at all and I'm warning you! Keep away from poison ivy! I'm the guy who knows—this week. Next week it might be you! And one dope in the class is enough.
Doc George Boylston, the only '35-er in the Portland, Oregon, area, he says, came to New York during March to attend a convention on internal medicine. George is associated with 20 other Doctors at the Portland Clinic, has three children now, and has managed to skip activity with the Army Reserves after being discharged a Lieutenant Colonel. Art Bamford managed to drag him up to the room for a drink between sessions but apparently no one else came close to him.
Art, incidentally, became a first-time father on March 16, when Dotty presented him with a daughter, Diana, complete with a red fringe and bit of balding in front just like her old man.
All the publicity we gave Carl Crane in the last issue about being Mayor of Plainfield and Man of the Year, etc., stirred his writing hand to action, and at a time when we figured he couldn't even find time to sleep. At least it goes to show that even the Mayor can enjoy his work, quote, "On the 12th of February I had the pleasure of uniting in wedlock, Ray Ely '34 and his bride. Following the ceremony, we had a reception, the likes of which the Mayor's office has never seen, and they were sent on their way complete with rice and tin cans. For any similar knot-tying, we will guarantee special rates for all Dartmouth men." Keep that in mind, you remaining bachelors. There are darn few Mayors who will marry you and throw in an office reception and tin cans to boot. Besides, Carl has promised me a cut on all '35 business I can throw his way, and the field is growing very limited.
Good-bye, Chuck. Good-bye, and happy sailing. That's Chuck Hayes, gents, who became the groom of Ernestine Schultz in Springfield, Mass., on March 19. The new bride graduated from Skidmore with highest honors in costume design and was employed by Jay Thorpe's in New York before becoming fashion co-ordinator with Forbes & Wallace in Springfield. She designed all the gowns for her wedding attendants, by the way. Since leaving Dartmouth, Chuck has been in more schools than an Army brat. He did graduate work at Wisconsin, Harvard, and Ate Universitaire in Paris. He's been a faculty member at Vermont Academy, Wilbraham Academy, and Hobart College. And he is now at Harvard doing graduate work in English. By this time he must be pretty smart.
The Hanover Inn Register shows that Dr. Danny Reagan and the Mrs. were visitors to the Hanover scene in March. Also RalphColby & son (the Colby's are always in Hanover—excuse or no excuse).
Our Chicago correspondent, Dick Montgomery, passes along the following: "Ed Freeman was married to Miss Betty Jo Fraser, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. James B. Fraser of Oakland Park, Florida, on February 28. I believe Ed will make his home somewhere in the Chicago area, although at last reports he was still looking for an apartment." Thanks, Dick, and congratulations, Ed.
Lou Bookheim has decided to get away from the big city life and has bought a house in the country. After April 15 his new address is 25 Hillside Road, Larchmont, N. Y.
Thirteen of the faithful showed up for the New York class dinner on March 9, including Bill McNeal of White Plains, who hasn't been seen around for some time. Bill is an editor for Coal Age, one of the McGraw-Hill group.
Jack Gilchrist seems to be a regular commuter between Cleveland and Washington, D. C., via New York. After his last visit he took time out for a lengthy letter from which I have cribbed the following as is customary with Secretaries: "Bill Hawgood gave me a glowing and detailed account of a canoe trip he and Sue took last fall all the way up to Hudson Bay—the sort of trip most of us dream about but very few ever get closer to than the local Sportsman's Show or Abercrombie & Fitch's window. Bill regaled me with this story the night the lights blew out at the Statler bar and our two parties joined forces to share the meager candle light in true Dr. Livingston fashion. Bill Crouse moved back to Cleveland somewhat over a year ago to enter the local advertising field. He and Bea and the two youngsters live in Shaker Heights. Jack AuWerter is still slaving for Slade along with four other jobs, if my memory serves me. Dan Swander is another notch higher at Columbia Vise but I'm weak on the title. Ran into Lowie Haas and his wife in the lobby of the Wardman Park in WashingtonThey were attending a Nebraska Society dance." And as for himself, Gilly reports, "Was in New York for a meeting of a sub-committee of the Naval Air Reserve Advisory Council, having come up from Washington where I had attended the Annual Conference of the Council. This is a group of thirty-odd (I'm not sure about the hyphen) reservists who convene with the Navy Secretary to advise on the Naval Air Program."
We close this month on a sad note. The necrology section of this issue carries an announcement of the death of Abe Belsky in an automobile accident. Abe hadn't had much personal contact with the class since we left school but many of us will recall the tall friendly red-head with the sparkling sense of humor and deeply regret that we saw so little of him before he had to go.
This winds up another month, another column. Before signing off, a blunt reminder that the Alumni Fund is again in full swing and, as usual, we're looking to all of you for support in so far as you can give it. Naramore is once again busting a gut and straining his larynx to keep our contributions respectable. You can save a lot of wear and tear on his nerves if you'll contribute now. And for God's sake—keep out of the poison ivy.
Secretary, Compton Advertising, Inc. 630 sth Ave., New York 20, N. Y
Treasurer, 1001 North Eye St., Tacoma 3, Wash.
Class Agent, Bridgeport Fabricks, Inc., Bridgeport 1, Conn.
