1940's Fast and Furious 10th
AT EIGHT O'CLOCK on the morning of Satur. day, June 17, an earth-rending crash suddenly shattered the profound stillness of Topliff Hall. "I was afraid of that," murmured Lois Moody, shifting in her bed. "Huh?" responded Jack brightly, after a moment's thoughtful deliberation in the adjacent sack. Lois sighed. "Jack Mac Donald's paunch just exploded!" However, a quick check with one half-opened eye proved to Moody's relief that Providence in its mysterious way had temporarily postponed that melancholy event, and the source of the disturbance was instead a thunderclap, ushering in a heavy downpour and a chill wind.
And so the weather changed, and with it came a change in the tenor of Forty's big tenth reunion. Starting with a Little trickle on commencement weekend, men had gradually flowed into town during the week, and could be seen poking around the Canoe Club, wandering through Sanborn House, and climbing Bartlett Tower. On Thursday there had been enough for a small party, and the excitement began to be felt as Don Rainie hurried about smoothing out last-minute wrinkles in his carefully-laid plans.
Friday saw the influx really begin. The sun was warm, and by noontime the tent inside the stadium gate was doing good business. People peered at each other's identification badges, apologized for not remembering, shook hands, and took up where they had left off ten years before. "You look just the same; maybe a little bit heavier." "Yes, I've put on
about twenty pounds, but I feel fine." "How many kids now?" And so on.
The green hats and T-shirts fanned out across the football field and up into the stands as probably the worst baseball game ever to trouble the sleep of Tesreau began. Errors, rhubarbs, charlie-horses, and blessed few solid hits and cleanly played grounders gave an impression of somewhat less polish, shall we say, than was evident up on the campus diamond a few weeks before. Final score: 3-2. Who won? Well, who was who? There was a certain instability in the line-ups. But lots of laughs. It finally dwindled to a desultory contest between two teams scaling the top of a potato-chip can, broken up when Bill Pellington put it fifteen rows up in the east bleachers.
The dance in Commons Friday night was a rather respectable affair—so much so that one was about to conclude that the Class of Forty had stayed away, when suddenly lo! our 800 Hayden found himself abruptly hoisted to the top of a six-foot water cooler in the middle of the dance floor, where he conducted with the characteristic aplomb that has won him the plaudits of multitudes heretofore.
Back in the tent the party had assumed the customary shape and color, with the din of yammer and yak against a mellow background of barbershop harmony and the staccato hisspop of opening beer cans. As the night wore on, the harmony improved, with Bill Cleaves,Dick Heer, Bud Swenson, and Beezie Small-wood showing the greatest endurance, now joined by an unidentified nondescript with a fantastic tenor voice, who seemed to think Bud and Beezie were just the nicest boys. Finally, in the first faint grey of dawn, the last stragglers dragged into Topliff and New Hamp, with one voice protesting, "Lemme lone. Don't needny help." And he didn't.
Then came the thunderclap, the rain, and the wailing wolfwind. It was a great morning for sleeping. Jack Moody slid down a notch in bed and closed his eye again. The rain was just beginning to let up as the class movies were shown before a small but still Nuggetwise audience in 105 Dartmouth at nine-thirty. The business meeting which followed was dispatched in a rather cursory democratic manner, but produced a fine group of officers to keep things humming for the next few years.
Out on the campus the whole crowd assembled in the same place for the first time to have their picture taken under the lowering sky and in the brisk wind. It was an impressive group. One of the lonely bachelors was heard to exclaim, "What a beautiful bunch of babes!" as he dodged a shot from the class joker's water pistol.
At the Alumni Meeting after the luncheon in the gym, Sid Hayward awarded the 1930 Cup for the largest number of reuners to
Forty, but only for that week, since the overall record had been set by the 25-year class the week before. If Sid had foreseen the treatment the Cup was to receive in the custody of Forty, he would have withheld it altogether, for it was soon filled with Pabst and was kept permanently replenished all weekend as it passed from hand to hand and lip to lip.
The tent proved too chilly in the afternoon, and it flapped its fringes in a state of total desertion for the rest of the weekend. Some took to the golf links, some to the tennis courts, and many just to wandering around and visiting. A series of lively parties gradually germinated in the dormitory rooms. At one point someone counted 29 heads in EddieMiller's room, which measured about eight by-ten: like something out of the Marx Brothers.
The class movies were well attended in the afternoon. Chal Carothers had done a fine job of splicing and titling, and there were plenty of chuckles. One sequence was entitled "Dartmouth's Favorite Sport." "Must be either drinkin' or lovin'!" bellowed Scotty Rogers. It proved to be lovin'. The Class of Thirty Cup was present and did the rounds, even passing from the balcony to the orchestra by the shortest route—hardly lost a drop.
The banquet at the Inn that night was an ear-splitting affair. Some thoughtful soul had come provided with fireworks, but they didn't make much of an impression above the general hubbub. After fifteen minutes of mouldy jokes, Scotty finally succeeded in lulling the crowd into a state in which they could decently listen to Professor Joe Mac Donald's address. This was largely devoted to an embarrassing reminder of how clouded our crystal ball had been back in '36-'40. Joe also reported overhearing a Forty wife saying, "These T-shirts are like life; you only get out of them what you put into them."
After the banquet the party split up again. Some went to see the Players, featuring Ann Hopkins Potter, perform Moss Hart's LightUp the Sky in Webster Hall. The Thirty Cup went too, still in a good state of replenishment. The rest of the crowd fissioned into numerous small parties, back at the dorms. Ultimately almost all of these coalesced into a mass migration to the Phi Gam house, where the weekend unquestionably reached its climax. The noise, the gags, the singing, and the laughs beggar description. One classmate reported that the beer was three inches deep behind the bar—over his shoes. Danny Sullivan demonstrated the continuing great accuracy of his shooting eye by hitting a series of small targets—about six by ten inches—with a hockeystick and a beer can three times in succession.
Among those retiring comparatively early was Harry Midgely. As soon as he was safe in the arms of Murphy, Doc Aulman and Rodday rounded up the biggest, ugliest, most misshapen bull dog you would ever want to see, put it in bed with Harry, and, retiring to a safe distance, roared at the top of their lungs, "Tuffy Reeves finally made it back!!" Midgely slowly opened his crusty eyes, saw the bull dog, did a triple take, and set a new indoor record for getting the hell out of there.
Back in Topliff Rodday gave a demonstration of the parallel technique by skiing down several flights of stairs. Did rather well, too, it was reported. A wife who was told that the attendant sound effects were her husband falling down stairs jumped out of bed and bellowed down the stair well, "You come up here this instant!"
In the cold, bright morning, when the sun was high, early risers saw a strange spectacle. There on the grass by the tennis courts, blissfully slumbering, under a garish beach umbrella with a keg of beer, lay Doc Aulman. Hanover ladies on their way to church stopped to deliver object lessons to their children on the evils of drink. "I was only resting," protested Doc.
Finally qthe folding chairs were brought out on the front lawn of Topliff, the kegs were set up on the steps, and the survivors settled down peacefully in the sun, waving farewell to successive carloads of departing reuners as the crowd began to thin. Don Cameron, the College administrative officer in charge of reunions, put in an appearance, inquiring rather anxiously about the 1930 Cup, which he had come to collect. It was found, still doing good service and still not empty. It hadn't been empty all weekend. It was relinquished, and as the contents were poured out, there at the bottom lay— Van Cleve's identification badge! Since there were no bones, teeth, or buttons, it was assumed that Van was not attached to the badge when it fell in, though nobody had seen him for quite a while.
Rainie made a trip down to the Phi Gam house to survey the wreckage and was presented with a bill for breakage which threw a rather sizable monkey wrench into his reunion financing program. Shaking his head ruefully as he walked around on the sticky floor collecting returnable empties, he kept murmuring through clenched teeth, "As long as the fellows had a good time, that's all I care."
Sunday night the dozen or so survivors gathered in the Lyons' apartment for some drowsy conversation and a few last ones. It was a little staggering to think that 150 cases and two kegs had been just about enough.
And that was it. The tremendous tenth was over, and Hanover was left to lick its wounds in the long summer months ahead. As the cars pulled out on Sunday, one heard again and again the same words: "It was great; I wouldn't want to do it every year, but I'll be ready by 1956."
It really was a grand party, and the work horses who arranged it all out of the goodness of their souls deserve a great deal of credit for its success. Rainie's was the main load, and his months of painstaking preparation and on-the-spot supervision certainly paid off, for everything ran without a major hitch. StetWhitcher had the thankless job of treasurer, and Chal Carothers did a great deal of work, collecting, cutting, splicing, and annotating, to turn out a really entertaining movie. And there were others, as always.
In so far as it is possible to keep an accurate attendance list at such a chaotic function, the grand total, including wives, children, and henchmen, was an even 300, of which 172 were members of the class of Forty. Those present, to the best of your committee's knowledge, were the following:
Joe Adams and wife, John Allen and wife, Gary Allen, Ken Arwe, Gardner Ashley, Kim Atkins and wife and two children, Doc Aulman, Bob Austin, Fred Bachelder and wife, Ben Bacon and wife, Tom Ballantyne and wife, Lee Bassett and wife, Carp Batchelder, Chuck Bensinger, John Bertrand and wife, Joe Bird and wife, Bert Blake and wife, Lloyd Blanchard and wife, Dick Bowman and wife, Chet Brett, Brownie and wife, Karl Bruch and wife, Bill Bumsted, Bob Bunker and wife, George Burleigh and wife and two children, John Burnap, Chal Carothers, Larry Cate and wife, Dick Chase and wife, Lew Chipman, Art Christensen and wife, Clint Clad and wife, Bob Clark and date, Bill Cleaves and wife, Eb Cockley and wife, Johnnie Crandell and wife, Ed Curtis and wife, George Cutter and wife, Bud Czerny and wife, Rick Davidson and wife, Diz Desieyes and wife, Bob Dibble, Paul Dickerman, Bob Dingwall, Moody Dole, Bill Duncan.
Fred Eaton and wife, Al Eiseman, Ted Ellsworth and wife, Bruce Espey and wife, Cliff Falkenau and wife, Larry Falls and wife, John Faunce and wife, Chet Ferguson, Jack Fitzgerald and wife, Will Flohr and wife, Ellie Foster, Deane Freeman and wife, Art French and wife, Dick Funkhouser and wife, Bob Gensel and wife, Dave Gibson, Chuck Goodwin and wife, Andy Halbleib and wife, Bill Halsey, Jack Hannestad and wife, Sid Harrington and wife, 800 Hayden and wife, Bill Hayes and wife and two children, Dick Heer, Redman Helm and wife, Butch Heneage, Larry Herman and wife, Bud Hewitt, Creight Holden, Cliff Holmes and wife and three children, Ray Hotaling and wife, Harry Hoyt and wife, Bill Huffman and wife, Paul Hurley and wife, Bill Hutchinson and wife, Johnnie Ingersoll, Steve Jewett, George Johnson, Bob Jordan and wife, Bob Kelley and wife, Staff King and wife, John Knutson and wife, Bob Lake and wife, Lew Lambert and wife, Dave Leake, Ernie Lendler and wife, Ted Lewitt, John Lillis and wife, Jack Little and wife, Jud Lyon and wife, Facts McDonald, Jack McDonald, Perc Mclntire, Bob MacMillen, Greek Mahoney and wife, Jim Malaney and wife, Manny Mansfield and wife, Howie Marshall and wife, Bill Martin and wife, Abe Maxson and wife, Jack Maynard and wife, Dwight Meader and wife, Midge Midgely and wife, Whit Miller and wife, Ed Miller and wife, Ted Miller and wife, Jack Moody and wife, Sid Morley.
Ken Newbert and wife, Les Nichols and wife, Harvey Noll and wife, John O'Brien and wife and brother Tom, Howie Oliver, Jack O'Shea and wife, Bill Pellington and wife, Pete Peterson, Fred Porter and wife, Jake Powell and wife, Charlie Power, Jack Preiss and wife, Don Rainie and wife, Bill Reardon and wife, Tuffy Reeves, Earle Reingold and wife, Bob Rodday, Scotty Rogers and wife, Jim Schaye and wife, Jack Schleicher and wife, Hugh Schwarz and wife, Jim Scott and wife, Bud Scribner, Pete Shedden and wife, Don Shippam and wife, Bob Skinner, Beezie Smallwood and wife, Henry Spencer and wife, Bill Squier, Bob Stearns and wife, Ken Steele, Howie Stockwell and wife, Henry Stokes and wife, Bob Storrs and wife, Don Stuart, Danny Sullivan and wife, Bud Swenson and wife, Bob Tatgenhorst, Don Tenney and wife, Jim Thomas and wife, Bob Thompson, Tom Todd and wife, Gerry Torborg and wife, George Tredick and wife, Nick Turkevich and wife, Bob Unangst and wife, Van Van Cleve and wife, Dick Warner and wife and child, Ike Weed and wife, Jay Weinberg and wife and child, Gordie Wentworth, Perry Weston and wife, Stet Whitcher, Bob Williams and wife, Sam Williams and wife, Stymie Willson and wife, Jim Young and wife.
It is quite possible that some names have been omitted, for which, apologies. Some men made a long weekend of it, while others were around for as little as an hour. There were a lot of missing faces we'd have liked to see, but you can't have everything, and 1956 isn't too far off. Start planning for it now.
THE CLASS OF 1940, FRONT-RUNNERS IN NUMBERS THE SECOND WEEKEND, GOT MOST OF THEIR GANG ASSEMBLED FOR THE BIRDIE
