1912
To chronicle the death of a classmate is a duty that is always a sad one. Red (Ralph H.)Whitney (we had two classmates named Ralph Whitney) died in his sleep from a coronary occlusion at his home in Alexandria, Va., on Sunday, April 15. He was seen in his living room by a neighbor, reading the papers on Sunday afternoon and, presumably, died in his sleep that night. A business associate in the Washington office of The B. F. Goodrich Rubber Company where Red was employed returned from a business trip on Tuesday afternoon and, finding that Red had not been in the office, and failing to get an answer on Red's telephone, with a doctor hurried to Red's apartment and with the assistance of the police broke in to discover Red's death. Red's superior in the Industrial Products Sales Department of The B. F. Goodrich Rubber Company immediately flew from Akron, Ohio, to Washington and took charge of the situation. Interment was in the family plot at Mount Hope Cemetery, North Attleboro, Mass., on Friday afternoon, April 20. Red suffered a heart attack about a year ago and ha'h'had recurrent attacks that, although not incapacitating, became more frequent.
At the time of his death Red was the representative of the Industrial Products Division of The B. F. Goodrich Rubber Company in Washington, D. C. Prior to that time he had been for some years special representative from the same division, operating out of Akron on special large contracting jobs, working with some of the largest construction firms in the country. Although Red had had a rather tragic domestic life, he was an extremely gregarious person with friends and acquaintances all over the world. His effects disclosed a surprisingly large number of persons with whom he corresponded regularly all over the world and from whom he received Christmas greetings and correspondence that obviously kept their acquaintance bright. It was my good fortune to see Red fairly often over the past 15 years while I have been in New York and each visit was a delightful occasion.
Red entered Dartmouth with our class but flunked out in our sophomore year, returning for one semester during our senior year, but he couldn't make the grade. He would laugh at himself in relating his scholastic difficulties to me. If he could have mastered the books, he would have been one of the great Dartmouth figures in athletics, both in football and in track. From Dartmouth he went to Lehigh University where, with George Hoban, he was a football star. Dick Remsen has related to me an occasion when Ted Coy and Red had a friendly competition in kicking the football in the Yale Bowl, both of them getting distances of over 70 yards. Red was in Dick's Phi Kappa Psi delegation and they were the closest of friends. Red will be missed not only by his classmates, but by the host of others who knew him.
The April issue of the Blue Shield, a publication of the Medical Service Association of Pennsylvania, carried a picture of Henry VanDyne signing the contract for Blue Shield medical-surgical service cover of all the employees of the Van Dyne Oil Company and members of their families, payment for which was assumed completely by the company. Henry was quoted as saying: "Our employees gladly would have enrolled on a contributory basis, but we preferred to assume the entire cost because of the Blue Shield benefits available to a fine, loyal group of people. In my opinion, Blue Shield represents the best medical-surgical protection available, and it is protection in the Real American way—voluntary group action free from government bureaucracy."
In reporting a new address effective April 28 (79 Sutherland Road, Apartment 2, Brookline 46, Mass.) Maurice Young writes: "I am feeling much better and the knees are stronger all the time. I plan a visit to my brother in Orleans, France, sometime next month, as soon after May 7 as a reservation can be had. I will write you from there and I should come back wholly myself and ready to be discharged by my 1924 surgeon."
The Eddie Luitwielers took off hurriedly by motor for a midwest destination the weekend of April 8, to greet another grandchild. They stopped over in Northampton, Mass., and met Dr. and Mrs. Art Kinney at dinner. A few minutes later Art was called away by news of the death of his father. Dr. George Lyman Kinney, who had practised medicine for 52 years in Holyoke, Mass., before retiring in 1940. The sympathy of the class is extended to Art and his two sisters.
We all sympathize with Ros Hall in the death of his brother Harold S. Hall '09 who died on February 8.
It has been said that an old fire horse is reactivated by the smell of smoke, and an old soldier is rearing to go at the scent of gunpowder. Well, we have Charley Gately. Few of us knew what he contributed in World War II and I have never learned the details. Charley will probably tell me that, as a lawyer, I should more accurately ascertain the facts. But this is the substance of the story: In World War II Charley was assigned, on a leave of absence from the prominent New York law firm of which he was a member, to take a leading role in the building by the combined efforts of the outstanding oil companies, of plants for the manufacture of butane, as a result of which we were able to substitute in an incredibly short time synthetic rubber to replace the sources of natural rubber that were denied to us by the Jap acquisition of the countries from which we had for years obtained our raw rubber supplies. For weeks, if not months at a time during that period, Charley was separated from his family, traveling constantly by airplane from one plant site to another as one of the small number of top flight personnel who planned and executed that program.
A couple of years or so ago Charley was smart enough to retire from the practice of law at which he had worked so arduously and successfully, to devote himself to his family, including a Dartmouth son, and the pursuit of recreations and hobbies previously denied him under the stress of his professional activities. And now you know what has happened? Naturally he has been recalled to service on behalf of the government on the legal staff of the Petroleum Administration for Defense, living at the Hay-Adams House in Washington, D. C., a service into which, as he says, he was "bludgeoned against his will and better judgment." According to him, if he ever sees his family again, it will be because they come to visit him. As he says: "I never thought would get any pleasure from the blood I shed, the tears I wept and the sweat I mopped in getting out our recent order restricting the use of tetraethyl-lead in the manufacture of gasoline. But if they'll only let us amend it in the near future and cut down that octane some more, my joy will be unbounded in the knowledge that the limousines of you moneychangers are knocking like riveting machines, from Boston to the Cape. I regret the lateness of the hour, which approaches 12 at midnight and I must get up early tomorrow to go to church and still not be late for work. Otherwise, I would say more. My regards, Charlie Gately of the Government."
Some of us were born lucky and others acquire the gifts of Lady Luck. Ted Miner was reported basking in the tropical suns of Bermuda early in April.
Hey, guys, if you haven't already done so, do it now! Send your check for the Alumni Fund to Eddie Luitwieler, and inasmuch as the quota for our class has been increased so that the record figure of $500,000 can be raised, your check should be increased from the amount that you gave last year by all that the pocketbook, bank account or your conscience will bear.
POST-EXAM PARTY: Three members of the Class of 1912 looked like this after their final exams were over 39 years ago this month and they were safe at Lake Morey. Left to right: Tim Timbrell, Unc Bellows, Billy Baxter. Among the headless is Lloyd Bugbee.
Secretary, 120 Broadway, New York 5, N.Y.
Treasurer, 4 Bank Building, Middleboro, Mass.
Class Agent, 299 Marginal St., East Boston, Mass.
