1935

Here it is almost spring and I'm just about to report on a New Year's weekend in Hanover. Somehow, time manages to get all out of kilter in this publication. (At least it's all concerned with a common subject.)

First-off: The Bankarts - Kip, Marilyn, Bevvie, Babs, and Reg - spent a four-day New Year's weekend enjoying Hanover, its people, and the surrounding countryside. This year we put up at the Norwich Inn, which, for the benefit of those who haven't seen it recently, is steadily modernizing itself. Almost all rooms now have private baths; there is a friendly, intimate cocktail lounge between the living room and dining room; and in the back is a six-room motel with all modern conveniences and decor. We arrived late in the afternoon of December 31 simultaneously with about two inches of snow. This was fortunate because the snow was covering bare ground and hundreds of visiting ski-fans had been getting mighty discouraged. The temperature was around 10° above zero and after a good hearty dinner your old Uncle Reg looked out at the crisp, star-laden night, recalled his healthy college days, and suggested a family "walk around the block" to get the city fumes out of our heads.

The air and the night were all we expected, but we kind of forgot what a "block" might amount to in the North country. We struggled back to the Inn about one hour and three miles later, half frozen and ready for bed. When the New Year arrived we had all been asleep for two hours.

The next day, with the temperature still about the same, we skated on Occom Pond and later hiked up through the golf course, along the Vale of Tempe and out to the Connecticut River.

We spent an evening with the George Coltons, who now have a house in Hanover proper, had cocktails with Bob and HenriettaHage, and ate one lunch in the Hanover Inn. Here, too, progress has come to call, albeit somewhat inappropriately in my opinion. This fall the Inn opened to the public a modern cocktail lounge - multi-colored pastel walls, indirect lighting, and the most modern of modern furniture. It's rather incongruous in an old New England atmosphere and could have been done just as well in period style. However, the drinks are good and the service pleasant.

All-in-all, the third annual Bankart pilgrimage to Hanover was restful, healthful, and most enjoyable. It was also relatively inexpensive. I would like to propose that other members of the class consider doing the same with their families next year. We could build the New Year's weekend gradually into a 1935 get-together. Traveling by car is usually no problem since the bad weather comes later. New Hampshire and Vermont also know how to take care of their roads. There is plenty of outdoor activity for young and old. Will those who may be interested drop me a line now and I will get in touch with you next fall in time to organize plans.

Now we had better get on with news of people you know.

Doug Hamilton, assistant vice president of the Elizabethport Banking Company (Elizabeth, N.J.), was recently elected president of the Elizabeth Exchange Club. Doug is a charter member of the club. A short while ago he moved to East Brunswick from Kenilworth where he had been vice president of the school board.

On a cute Christmas card from Cliff Mills featuring "Storkhaven" and his four kids, Cliff noted, "We had press seats on the Yale side at the Dartmouth game. The whole family was decked out in Dartmouth jackets and shirts and maybe you don't think Yale wasn't well aware of our presence!"

To my delight, here's the annual report from Evelyn Dawson on her wandering husband, Swannee (or "Harris P." as he is known today): "My spouse is on the other side of the world at present, in Ankara, Turkey. Before he returns he will have spent some time in Athens and in Paris. His home base, however, is Washington, D.C. He is area chief for Greece and Turkey in the Foreign Operations Administration and, as an AP release in the Turkish-American News put it, — 'Questions pertaining to American aid to Greece and Turkey are being dealt with by Harris P. Dawson Jr.'

"A Christmas note from Put and LouiseKingsbury tells me that Put is now comptroller of the Mayo Clinic - also that we missed a happy reunion this summer when they were in Keene, N.H., and we were at Lake (it looks like 'Densmore' - Evelyn, watch that handwriting!) in Vermont. We drove over to Hanover to show Harris III 'that place' he's heard us talk of so often. Needless to say he was enchanted." Again, thanks, Evelyn, for being such a loyal correspondent. I could only wish that a few more wives would do the same for their wandering husbands.

Here's an urgent request from me in behalf of the class and the Alumni Records Office. We've lost a classmate! George Eldon Conner was last reported as living at 811 Harmon Parkway, Mamaroneck, N.Y. He's not there any more. In fact he isn't listed in any of the New York telephone books. Where's George? If any one knows would they please let me or the college know, too? Hey, George, where are you? Hey, George!

In early January, Dick Montgomery sent me a clipping from Advertising Age (which I should have seen myself and didn't) saying that Frank Cornwell, formerly manager of the franchise stores division of Brown Shoe Co., had been named general sales manager of the merchandising division of Monsanto Chemical Co., St. Louis. This came as quite a shock, since after all these years, I had assumed that Frank was as basic a part of the shoe business as Buster Brown himself. A quick query to Uncle Frank brought the following confirmation:

"In view of the long and pleasant associations I had with the Brown Shoe Co., my decision to resign was an extremely difficult one. Only an opportunity charged with such challenge as is evident here at Monsanto could influence me to make the decision. The Merchandising Division, of which I am general sales manager, is a new one with the responsibility of marketing consumer products bearing the Monsanto trademark."

On January 28, my telephone rang and herewas Frank in New York, busy as a bee onbusiness. In fact, so darn busy that our lunchdate had to be cancelled the next day.

Last January, Al Keenan was promoted togeneral passenger traffic manager of theMoore-McCormack Lines. Al joined the shipping line following five years of Army service and has been reported regularly in these columns as working in various parts of South America and Scandinavia. He now lives with his wife and three children in Madison, N.J.

Had a very pleasant surprise the last week in January when Gladys and Bud Childs arrived in New York for a long weekend vacation from Bud's obstetrical practice in Buffalo. They took in a few shows, wandered around window shopping, had a grand reuning luncheon with Mac McCarty and me, and spent Friday and Saturday tearing up the town with the Jim Naylors, who came down from Hartford especially for the occasion. As a matter of fact, while I'm writing this they are still on the loose, so I don't have a final report. (It'll probably be in the morning papers.) Bud and Gladys are planning a month's vacation this coming August to travel West with the kids and see the country. Sounds like a wonderful idea for them as can take a month's vacation!

Ran into Al Sherwood on the train the other day, who reported that Art Fisher is building himself a house in the Englewood, N.J., area and plans to move in this spring. Art is currently living in Larchmont, N.Y., but the family steel business has been moved to New Jersey and Art is moving with it.

Eddie Offutt was in town just before Christmas and came out for an evening with the Bankarts. He still had had no offers for assistance in putting out the Tear Bag, but since then I have heard that help may be on the way. Eddie is already laying out extensive plans for the Fund campaign for this coming spring and if all goes well we should do even better than last year.

Well, gents, that's all for now. Thanks for all your contacts and we'll be back in another month. Take care and good hunting.

Secretary, Compton Advertising, Inc. 630 Fifth Ave., New York 20, N.Y.

Treasurer, 67 May St., Needham 92, Mass.