1935

Here it is February and we have a few scattered notes on hand plus some personal contacts established over the holidays in some very familiar territory.

First off, last month we reported BunnyDeutch's coming marriage. We have since received the formal announcement. On November 18, 1952, Bunny was married to Rosemary Gladys Barcelo in New Orleans, La. As of now they are at home at 1515 Henry Clay Ave. Presumably they spent that promised honeymoon in the Caribbean.

Mac McCarty, who, with his wife Nell, authored "Every President Gets Smeared" in the November issue of McCall's, eye-witnessed the series of crashes that caused closing-down of the N. J. Turnpike for a short time early this winter.

Up in Montpelier, Vt., there's news of a classmate we haven't heard about in a long time. O. Fay Allen of Chelsea, Orange CountyClerk and probate judge, has announced his candidacy for the clerk of the 1953 Vermont House of Representatives. Fay was first assistant clerk during the last two sessions. He's been clerk of Orange County for ten years and probate judge of the Randolph district since 19-17- Town Republican chairman in Chelsea. Fay was president of the Vermont County Clerk's Association a year ago.

And here's word from Quincy, Mass., about a guy we'd given up for lost. In a promotion from trustee to trustee chairman in the recent election of officers of the Quincy AFL Ship Designers' union, Frank J. Donahue of 52 Roseen Ave., Weymouth, said that special attention to social education meetings will be the trustees' program. Frank is employed by the Navy at the Fore River Yard where for ten years he has worked in inspection and technical positions. In World War II he was in the Navy and earlier was in the air force in Manila. After leaving Dartmouth, he completed his education at Franklin Technical Institute and is past vice-commander and past adjutant of Quincy Legion post. He's married and has three children. All of the above will be of special interest to those who remember the inter-fraternity play contest our Junior year when the Dekes abandoned their strenuous athletic program long enough to turn aesthetic for a few brief weeks and win first prize with their presentation of The LastMile. Frank received high praise for his part as a gangster behind the bars. The play also included Rollie Mack as an insane character and yours truly as an Italian bad man. After several years of waiting, it's good to get word of Frank again.

During the week between Christmas and New Year's your old Uncle Reg and his whole family took a vacation, spending four days in the Lyme Inn, ten miles north of Hanover. There was loads of snow, the weather was cold and generally clear except for another eight inches of snow on Saturday the 3rd. We were overwhelmed once again with the breath-taking beauty of winter in the White Mountains. Spent a whole day driving north through Sugar Hill to Franconia and down through the notch where we met nothing but skiiers. Stopped to admire the Old Man of the Mountain with his snow-white hair and the black bears at Clark's who willingly posed for pictures from their tree-top perches. The surrounding mountains were completely white and their sisters turned to delicate shades of blue as they retreated in rolling waves back to Mount Washington and the Presidential range. In every New Hampshire village sawmills were buzzing and they could be easily located from a distance by the haze of blue smoke that hung over their burning slab bins, smoke that drifted across the pine-green hills and blended with the blue-white of the mountains beyond.

In Hanover, the snow was a blanket of white. The campus, the Inn and Main Street looked as familiar as ever. Only the students were missing. In the center of the campus stood a tremendous fir tree surrounded by a circle of little ones and the orange glow of lights in Baker bore witness to the fact that, somehow, someone was hard at work on books. Pulling up on Main Street for a milkshake and sandwich at Allen's we were disconcerted by the parking meters and further disconcerted by the fact that Allen's has been completely remodeled, the fountain now being located in the rear of the store behind a modern counter with low stools and much higher prices. Those famous milk-shakes are now 25 cents and, obviously, none of the old familiar faces are behind the bar. There's a new Nugget, too, down opposite the Post Office, and you can't rent a horse and sleigh anymore. It's not very practical when snow removal is so efficient. All the main roads are completely cleared in a matter of hours after a storm through a combination of scraping, sanding and salting. The latter, of course, leaves them wet and bare even though the temperature may be below freezing. Not good for sleighs but mighty helpful to tourists in automobiles, especially skiiers who arrive in the vicinity in greater numbers than ever from various points south.

We visited the Hages in their new home facing Chase field. It's a new development built in an old strawberry patch and Bob says they still get their fill of strawberries out of the back yard. His good wife Henrietta and teenagers Jack and Patty took good care of us and the children via various refreshments. Thence to the Coltons who live five miles out the Lyme Road. Ruth and George entertained us adults while Donald, Dickie and Margaret showed the Bankart children the secret passageways and jumping-off places of the house itself. With the natural enthusiasm of our offspring there's no question who came off noisiest, especially since your old Uncle Reg had difficulty getting into those secret passageways to start with. Even normal-sized Indians would have been discouraged.

And the next day a visit with the Camerons who live within eye-shot of the Hages. This time we thought we were smart. Babs and I elected to stay in the house and talk to Don and Beth and leave our kids outside to throw snow-balls at David and Bruce who took over enthusiastically and roped in a few neighboring characters for moral support. After an hour's battle nobody won and the whole troupe came in for sustenance, which involved at least half an hour for removal of snow suits, mittens, boots, sweaters, scarves and heavy socks all of which had to be put on again half an hour later. Babs and Beth discussed the woman's problems of living in Hanover. Don and I discussed the personnel problem, especially how to get secretaries to come to work in Hanover. Since I had no dollars to throw around I couldn't solve this one.

Then we visited Mrs. Smalley "The Mrs." -as she was known to several generations of Dartmouth men. For a good many years she ran an eating club on College Street. But eating clubs are now extinct in Hanover and those of us who worked in them to help pay our way through College have nothing but memories to work on. But memories are won derful things as you grow older. They establish the present with the past they give continuity to life. And they help to keep alive the Dartmouth of today through the Dartmouth we knew 20 years ago. Perhaps our memories of today, bright and clear as they are, are an important part of the Dartmouth tradition that makes Dartmouth a gleaming star among the privately endowed institutions.

Enough of sentiment. Let us close with the thought that Hanover is a wonderful and inspiring place to return to. And the Bankarts have made their winter pilgrimage. We hope you will all have occasion to do the same. See you in March.

COLLEGE ARCHITECT: R. Jackson Smith '36 has been made a member of the firm of Eggers & Hig- gins, architects. He specializes in the field of school and college architecture. Captain of the swimming team in college, he has been a 3-meter diving champion and was U.S. representative on the In- ternational Olympic Diving Committee.

Secretary Compton Advertising, Inc. 630 Fifth Ave., New York 20, N. Y. Treasurer 67 May St., Needham 92, Mass.