1940
Well, this is it! It hardly seems possible that one year has elapsed since our terrific tenth, but it has. And here I am composing my last column of the publication year—looking forward to that respite which comes with summer. Keeping in touch with all who read this column is fun, but everyone enjoys a vacation now and then. I'm looking forward to a couple of months when I won't have to worry about being late meeting a deadline.
Colleague Dick Bowman has recently been aiding and abetting this scribe's efforts to give you the latest scoop. Although he hasn't managed to split as many infinitives as I have, I think you'll all agree that he has done a great job in his newsletters. In fact, he has contributed more of the up-to-date gossip of the Class to your ken than I've been able to, thanks to the green questionnaires which many of you sent him. To the many of you, though, who have so loyally responded to my letters soliciting news, I send my thanks and a hope that others of you will go and do likewise.
Treasurer Don Rainie has augmented reports of his dues-collecting activities with the wonderful news that Ruby and he have added a boy, Duncan Christie, to their clan, born April 13, weight something over eight pounds. I know you all join me in celebrating the arrival of another '4O-fashioned contender for the Barrett Cup! Don also writes that he has forwarded to Jack Moody, our current and choice organizer of the 25th reunion memorial fund, a check for $10 which the Class received as the result of Gordie Wentworth losing a bet to John Fitzgerald at the Boston stag party last year at Larry Herman's plush establishment. Stakeholder Bob Clark, Gordie, and John decided at the '51 retake of the same party that there could be no more worthy cause chosen to benefit from the bet, so the 1940 Memorial Fund received its first contribution.
Incidentally, the Boston stag party this year proved a huge success, thanks to Red Herman's cuisine, the moderate price, and the free drinks which are always sure to lure any '40s for miles around. The roster of those atHaving tending included: Chet Brett, Larry Cate, EdCurtis, George Cutter, Paul Dyer, Bill Halsey,Dick Hawkes, Fred Kelley, Manny Mansfield,Ted Lewitt, Harry Midgley, Ted Miller, KenNewbert, Harry Hoyt, John (Facts) McDonald,Jack O'Brien, Howie Stockwell, Ed Smith, BillSquire, Stet Whitcher, Copper Nye, Dick York,Bob Rodday, Sam Snow, host Herman, the betting triumvirate of Wentworth, Fitzgerald and Clark, and reporter Rainie, who writes:
"Paul Dyer has added so much weight since he captained the swim team that he was practically unrecognizable. Some of his old cronies managed to delve through the excess poundage, and Paul eot a royal welcome, albeit he took a terrific ribbing because he had not attended a class function for years. Ed Curtis did not drive down from Portland, Me., I discovered, but was in town on business all week and managed to squeeze in the party at the Eliot Lounge. Both Bill Halsey and Bob Clark appeared none the worse for wear now that they've taken on additional home duties. Bob Clark slowed down sufficiently on his way down from New N. H., so that Aianny Alans feld could grab the fast freight via Nashua. You should have seen the effect of that mustache and the sharp sports jacket on Manny! Ted Miller brought several snapshots of our late lamented 10th and caused considerable comment (not all favorable) with one photo which should be a must for Airs. Gordie Wentworth (taken during the closing hours of the Phi Gam extravaganza)."
Most of you will not remember him as the lad whose versatility enabled him on the one hand to attain the Class of 1866 oratory prize while at the same time garnering the 175- pound-class wrestling trophy, but some of us held Page Smith as something of an oracle when it came to elucidating on the complexion of the Class of '40, present and future. Out of deference to his continued quest for anonymity, I can't quote Page's recent letter in full, but I do want to present a bit of it as constituting a commentary on the post-graduate lives to date of many of us who hoped to burst full blown upon the world, straight out of comprehensive exams and erudite, but who have since found progress quite different from our expectancies, though nonetheless enjoyable. Perhaps the statement is the more dear to me for the experience of having to master a callous attitude of mind when explaining that, after all, someone has to go into the corset business!
"I have yet to make my first million. Part of my reticence in writing is due to the fact that my life runs in an uneven but minor key, and part to traumatic experiences in trying to explain to fellow '40s what I am doing at Harvard. The dialogue runs like this: 'What are you doing these days?' 'l'm at Harvard.' Oh, Law School?' 'No.' 'Oh, over at the Business School?' 'No' (weakly). 'Going to be a doc, eh?' 'No, American history' (in a whisper). 'Oh!' (dazed, speechless).
"I came up here in 1946 to treat myself to a year of graduate work after five years in the Army. This has now become rather a poor joke! The first year was so miserable that I decided to stay for another to see if it got any better. It did, a little. By that time I was slowly sinking from sight in the academic quicksand where I am today, perfectly embalmed. By thus holding life at arm's length for five years I have arranged to burst upon the academic world at a particular moment in history when the academic world couldn't possibly be more appalled at the prospect. However, although no longer young, I'm still shifty. I have three children, girl, boy, girl, am semi-employed as a history tutor and freshman advisor at Harvard, have worked intermittently in the public relations field over the last few years, and weigh 182 pounds. Have been meaning to go over and wrestle Red Herman at his establishment, but haven't gotten around to it."
News of another who has heretofore been overlooked in this column. Sid Phillips, who did a short tour with Western Electric and a longer one with the Navy before settling down at Rutgers to continue his higher education and to teach, leads off his letter with an offer to trade his small edition of Peck's bad boy, Carl B. Phillips, to the first bidder. Seems that young Carl has a knack for getting things fouled up. First he threw blocks down the john and effectively blocked up the sewer so that the contents thereof backed up into the cellar to the depth of a number of inches. From there he had a training stint at demolishing a sturdy bathinette before climaxing his efforts by kicking Sid during a wrestling match, leaving Pop with a sweet case of bursitis on a service-incurred trick knee.
Sid reports that, of the boys in his locale, Nick Turkevich recently delivered a fine talk as guest lecturer for one of Sid's classes. Nick is with the Atlas Supply Co., Newark, doing a nice job in charge of their statistical research department. Ken McCotter is in the personnel department of Lehn & Fink, Bloomfield, N. J., and apparently doing well at home, also, with a brood of youngsters too numerous to count. John Turner, the beer baron of Montana (advertising as the provider of the "Burp Heard 'Round the World") was last heard from fleeing from the Kefauver committee and threatening to go legitimate by entering the aluminum business. HowieTalmadge is again a classmate of Sid's, this time at New York University, where they are both after the "pile it higher and deeper" designation in business administration.
Catching up on the birth announcements, to let you know that Rainie doesn't have the market cornered, Dick Funkhonser writes that Janet has just come through with flying colors and their fourth addition, Linda Jane, born April 4, making it two of each sex for them. Business for Dick, both home and breadwinning, is good, and his travels give him a chance to see a few of the '40 tribe in his territory now and then.
Another new edition was recently offered to the world by Margaret and Paul Johnson, who announced the birth of a son, in Worcester, Mass., on March 6. Paul is still sports writer for the Worcester Telegram.
On the to-be-wed front, Herb Landsman and Madeline R. Strieker, of Cincinnati, have issued the glad pre-nuptial tidings as of March 23. Herb is prospering with Federated Department Stores, in Cincinnati, while his bride-to-be is affiliated with "that city's Council on World Affairs.
As this whirling world echoes with both good and bad tidings, we are on the one hand happy to report that John Fitzgerald's youngest, John I. 3rd, was recently rescued from near-drowning in the Charles River, after falling in while temporarily out of view of his mother. In the opposite vein, it is with sadness that we note the passing of classmate Charles W. Bethune, whose death is reported elsewhere in this MAGAZINE. The slim facts we had as a basis for writing the obituary notice cannot do justice to the memory of this lad who found his way into '40 via residence at 303 College Hall.
Don't forget that ante for the Alumni Fund. Give the College, and incidentally Fred Porter, your support now. As Dick Funkhouser aptly puts it: 'As with most of living, you get out (of Dartmouth) just about what you put in." ... A good summer to all!
Secretary, 55 Goodrich St., Hamden, Conn.
Treasurer, 88 N. Main St., Concord, N. H
Class Agent, Swallow Farm, E. Foxboro, Mass.
