1897
Three of our classmates have helped me with this first report of the new year, and I know you fellows will all be glad to read about them.
The Rev. Albert Priestly Watson, our classmate, whom we always called A. P., celebrated the 50th anniversary of his ordination in the Christian Ministry in September. The service was held at the Congregational Church at Charlestown, N. H. The anniversary sermon by A. P. was on the vital subject "Some Signs of Religious Progress in the Last 50 Years." At the large reception following, a song was rendered by Walter Pelitz, being the one sung at A. P.'s ordination, "I Have a Song to Tell the Nations." Our own beloved Dr. William Jewett Tucker, then president of Dartmouth College, preached the ordination sermon when our classmate was inducted into the ministry.
At the 50th anniversary of his ordination art electronic transmission of the program was made available to his much beloved wife at their home where she is confined as an invalid.
Speakers at the 50th anniversary included the Rev. Frederick Allen from the Congregational Conference of New Hampshire, Rev. Forrest Higgins of the Claremont Congregational Church, Rev. Richard F. Beyer of Springfield, and the Rev. Mr. Kyper of Saco, Me.
A. P. was born at the parsonage at Barrington, N. H., where his father was minister at the Central Congregational Church, but the family moved to Hampstead which A. P. calls his home. He was married in 1905 to Miss Alice Bernard of Bedford, N. H. There are two children living, Mrs. Curtis Lustig, who graduated from Smith College, and whose husband for a long time was secretary of Yale University; and George Albert Watson of Caldwell, N. J., an engineer with the Curtis-Wright Co. working on jet-propulsion reseaich. A. P. has been at the church in Charlestown since 1942 where he and his much beloved wife have made many friends. A wonderful picture of him, with the four Deacons of the church, brings to us all the radiant smile which all of us remember as so characteristic of him. I know every one of us classmates will join in extending our heartfelt congratulations to A. P. for these 50 years of leadership and service, and we all wish him many more happy years to carry on.
"Christie" writes news of the New Hampshire fellows, Bolser, Watson, Rowe andTracy, but doesn't say much about himself.He gives me, however, an intimate note aboutthe Rowe family and his own playing contract into the late hours of the night. I suppose this is to keep the records straight andto inform his classmates that he still standsfirm in his valiant support of Webster, thecartoonist, in his great fight against the national menace of Canasta. Let's take a littlenote of "Christie." Here are some of thefacts: He was in college and is now a cardplayer. He was and is still fond of music, andhis wife Edna is also. She wrote the music forour class song, "Climb Up You Little Children," which was published in the ALUMNI MAGAZINE of June, 1947. He has for a longtime been a leader in Masonic fraternity affairs. He has written a lot of poetry. He hasbeen a long time practitioner of his profession, with hundreds of families who have hadthe benefit of his professional skill and thewarmth of his personality to help themthrough the dreary days. Christie's son graduated from Dartmouth and is a physician. Hisgrandson is now at the College. They tie theChristophe - family pretty closely into Dartmouth affairs. Edna has made us all happy atevery reunion. In a short note, Christie tells me he visited the Bolsers in Florida some time back and also the Gibsons. He, also, tells me that Tracy didn't feel able to run for the legislature this year.
A poem written by Christie calling us back to our 50th reunion has been read with a good deal of feeling by our classmates, but it hasn't had the broader distribution among those who love the College that such a writing deserves. The following lines are chosen from the longer poem, and I think they bring home to us all those intimacies of the college setting which we all feel. No one can read these lines and fail to sense the ability of our classmate to well remember and ably record what he saw, heard and felt in those happy days of our youth on the college campus. I hope he will share with us many more of his writings. Here's a toast to Christie, our class poet:
Fast went the years as we recall them And fast were friendships made and firm, That e'en the fifty years have vanished We still for Dartmouth dream and yearn And in our dreaming see the campus The paths that led us to and fro, The stately elms that marked its border The old familiar Dartmouth Row. And in our fancy hear the voices Of Profs who taught us years ago.
Both you and I Have seen the days and years slip by. Can one forget those autumn mornings So crisp and cool at break of day, The fog bank that gave silent warning Beneath its folds the river lay ? The cold of winter and its stillness So tense that oft at even' time, Across the silent ice bound river We heard the bells of Norwich chime? The slush of Springtime that seemed endless Till greening grass gave signs at last, That June was here and with, its coming Our college days would soon be past. Can one forget these years together Of sports, of hums, of hikes and walks, While least of ail to be forgotten Were Prexy's Sunday Chapel talks? The while through years of close communion Into our hearts without our ken, So silently yet so enduring The Dartmouth Spirit entered in.
The hills beyond still show their grandeur The elms their shade still cast afar, The campus still retains its beauty Though changed indeed its borders are.
John Meserve in a very happy vein writestelling me in a very professional way how thedoctors tried to find something wrong withhim and nailed him down for quite a spellin the hospital to make sure, and he tells methat the tests all showed negative. Back homeagain now and his very cheerful letter promises me some pictures of his son Richard,Dartmouth '31, and of his grandchildrennine of them at the last census.
I recall with a lot of pleasure at our graduation Dr. Hill, John's grandfather, andRalph Hough, Todd Harrison's grandfather, were talking on the porch at the Innwhere I heard this dialogue. Mr. Hough said:"Doctor, I am getting old." "How old are you,Ralph?" "I am 75, Doctor." "Nothing but aboy, Ralph, nothing but a boy. I am fiveyears older than you are." I knew both ofthese fine men very well when I was a boy.Dr. Hill, John's grandfather, lived in a fineold brick house set well back in a beautifullawn in the middle of which stood a verylife-like cast-iron black dog. As a farm boy, Idelivered milk, butter and eggs to his houseand I always received from him the most cordial greeting. He was a man that a boy lovedand could never forget. John started practicing medicine in the house of his grandfather.
MINISTER FOR FIFTY YEARS: The Rev. Albert P. Watson '97 (r) as he was honored for his long service by members of his congregation in Charlestown, N. H.
Secretary and Treasurer 886 Main St., Bridgeport 3, Conn.
