1914
Following the custom of the last few years, the April or Sno-bird notes are written by a guest speaker-this year Walt Humphrey.
Snowless Snobirds - that's us! The thinnest of icy white frosting on such parts of the campus as were not a bare brown. That was the Hanover scene for Twelve Famous Fourteen couples and one unattached classmate. Hardy perennials and some occasionally winterblooming posies, there were the Pennel Aborns, the Charlie Batchelders, the Jack Conners, the Fred Davidsons, the Ducky Drakes, the Jim Greggs, the Walt Humphreys (that's me 'n' my wife), the Ernie Kimballs, the Walt LeCounts and the Loring Nichols; these outlanders and, of course, the near-na- tive Pianes and Remsens. Lone wolf at the party was Maurice Harvey. Of our sons there were Bill Slater, Kevin Sullivan and Dick Wheelock; also the younger Drake and bride. A grand crowd, you unfortunate absentees will agree. Only being bigger could have made it grander.
The brave green and white banner of the Famous Class of 1914 hung from the big beam across the back of the Inn lobby to greet each arrival. After that first glimpse of glory, one looked around the place for familiar bald, balding or at least graying heads and for the lovely ladies who had taken those scalps some years' ago. They were there. Some had arrived at various times Friday; and by Saturday forenoon it was ruled that there were enough to hold an alleged class meeting. No highlevel policy was established nor even seriously discussed, I hear, but Walt LeCount and I regretted not being there to hear the good stories that we "heard were swapped. We and wives pulled up under the porte-cochere just as Baker Tower was giving out four o'clock Saturday afternoon, the last arrivals, I believe.
That gave us four just time to greet our own lobby loungers and to go to our rooms to clean up and wash the dust from our throats before everybody converged upon the serious tonsil treatment, Mart and Kathleen Remsen's generous cocktail party in the lounge. It was gay and populous. Besides ourselves were the many men and wives of the College administration whom we are happy to entertain; and reaching the long table of reviving fluids at the far end of the room called for varsity linebucking experience. A heavy-handed little man in a white coat labored hard and well to get us to the point of more or less harmonious rhapsody on "Down Mobile," "See Those Ships Go By," "Eleazar Wheelock" and a few others before dinner, and afterwards more of the songs that we sang for four springs from four sides of the campus.
The old Snobird tradition of the table did not fail. Though we missed Rufe Sisson, we didn't miss his venison (or was it Mart s this time?) and it was delicious. Pheasant too, as usual. NO post-prandial prattle, but we were happy publicly to acknowledge our own "Hoppy," pride of so many of our alumni years and to listen to a short greeting from John Dickey, his worthy successor.
By Sunday morning the Conners and the Reinserts had left us and in the early afternoon the Drakes took off. For the survivors it was a leisurely day; to lounge about the Inn, to walk around the old haunts in bright sunlight overhead and puddles underfoot, to climb into the car for a trip around the country or to some out of town spot for dinner. The word got around that the Pianes wanted to see us at five; so there at about that hour the remaining clan gathered. Right amidships in the dining-room stood bottles, glasses, ice, fruit slices and cherries—the works for 'what'll you have, boys and girls?'— and we had 'em, again to the singing point, even the dancing point for John, before we reluctantly left. To the music of The Summer Bachelor of our freshman year, the Old Pine Stump went into a few steps of his pony ballet routine. (Remember those Bally beauties, Colby, Haskell, Learoyd, Picken, Piane and Rice?)
All the wives gave three long oohs and an ah for Madeline's beautiful kitchen with its traditional look of warm waxed-wood finish and its ultra modern efficiently placed equipment, and we all envied the Pianes their delightful spot as much as we were grateful to them for the spots of this or that which we had downed.
Back at the Inn again, cards or conversation filled the balance of the evening. A half dozen of us got hungry later on and were fortunate to discover the only Hanover night spot, the College Hall Snack Bar, where the old grill room of our day used to be. And so to bed and to the end of another Snobird; for next day there was nothing to do but to drive back home to the complaining whine of snow tires, robbed, thank goodness, of their proper function. True it is, the party gets less hilarious and more sedate every year. I saw no one taking the stairs two at a time; everybody waited for the elevator service to his room. If anybody caroused 'til the wee sma' hours it must have been the night before I got there, and nobody told me. Saturday night, soon after dinner the crowd vanished like the snow outside; about five couples of bitter enders sat languidly in the lounge for an hour or so, and - laugh this one off! - joined in a nightcap of straight ginger ale! Everyone was snoring before midnight except ray wife and I who had the misfortune of a room right under a noisy party of evidently younger and certainly blither spirits. Five years ago I might have gotten up and crashed the party instead of being deeply annoyed.
Still, the slowdown of the years does not perturb us nor does it diminish the pleasure of these Snobird reunions. The feel of the old paths beneath our feet, though we tread them more slowly; the clasp of hands grown more familiar through the years, but too infrequently met; the reaffirmation of our loyalties by this mid-winter hegira to Hanover; - all these things are good. Especially good is the opportunity which I find these parties afford of discovering possibilities for usefulness to Class or College. And usefulness is pre-eminently one of the things we're here —or should be there for.
Though Ernie Kimball may not be able to field those hot grounders so well now, yet he and the rest of us are still in our prime for some of the best service we can give. Getting together up there helps us to find out what we can do and co-ordinates us to do it. So, while life, locomotion and some of our five senses remain, I say Snobird is tremendously worth the little trouble and very reasonable expense it entails. Let's have more of us there next year!
REPEATERS: Among 'l3ers who plan to be back in Hanover this June are (I to r): Nat Rice, Carl Forsaith and Dr. Milt Aronowitz.
Secretary, 88 Sea St., N. Weymouth 91, Mass.
Class Agent, 152 Stuyvesant PL, Staten Island 1, N. Y.
