1909
Pretty near everybody around our time, I suppose, noticed that photo of faculty kids, circa 1890, that appeared in the January issue of the ALUMNI MAGAZINE. The child on the right wearing kilts and long hair is little Joie Wort hen. Joe rises in righteous wrath every time he sees that photo.
"Damn that photo," says Joe. "I never have the slightest feelings of filial impiety except when it comes to mind. Every so often, some cuss with a distorted sense of humor digs it up; whereupon, apparently his first impulse, to which he gleefully yields, is to send it to the ALUMNI MAGAZINE. I think this is the third time this has occurred within fairly recent memory; and each time the MAGAZINE has swallowed it bait, hook, line, and sinker - thereby unwittingly subjecting itself to substantial damage suits for invasion of the right of privacy, defamation, and other grievous consequences.
"It seems to me a sort of just, though belated, retribution, of which I hope the shades of my forebears take careful note, when some of my masculine — as well as feminine grandchildren of tender years are seen to walk abroad, - sans pants, sans skirts, sans everything - in shameless nudity."
Don't take it so hard, Joe. I, too, was one of those kids who wore kilts, although my mother saved me the shame of long hair at the same time (I've wished since that I had some of it back). There was one compensation, if it could be called such, and that was that we wore a pair of pants under the kilts. I recall one day when Mother and I were walking on Davis St. in the classic suburb of Evanston, Ill., some dame stopped us and asked Mother if I was a little girl. In disgust, I lifted up the kilts to show her the pants underneath.
I don't know why they dressed little boys in such outlandish costumes. Another fad, about the time I was ready for the first grade, were those Little Lord Fauntleroy suits. Remember 'em - the tight-fitting black velvet pants, the velvet coat with the wide lace collar, as described in the book by Frances Hodgson Burnett (if my memory still serves)? That's the kind of rigging I wore on my first entry to school. Can you imagine the humiliation I felt at the sneers of some of those tough Evanston kids? No wonder I played hooky and Miss Sargent, our first-grade teacher, found it necessary to lead me back and forth to class until I was school-broken.
Ced Wells ted was another guy who wore kilts in the early days of his youth. His, too, had pants underneath. He hated 'em the same as the rest of us, but what could we do about it? His mother was so impressed with the Little Lord Fauntleroy story that she wanted to give her boy, as a first name, the name of the hero of the story, which was "Cedric." But the old man put his foot down there and they settled for "Thomas Cedric." Through the years his companions, as you know, have called him Ced.
It might be a good idea for us old-timers to start a kiltie ass'n. I nominate Joe Worthen as president.
A letter from Gladys Pratt, widow of our late departed classmate, Harold, says: "It is a comfort to know that so many of Prattie's associates, both old and new, have expressed their true friendship plus honest admiration of him. I always knew he was well liked by those that I happened to have met, but since his passing, I can only say that the loyalty of various people I had never met or even knew of, who had been associated with him in a business way, was overwhelming indeed. Men that had worked with him at his various Socony Vacuum plants came to pay their respects after working all night, and meeting me with honest tears in their eyes."
There's no power that can bring Hal back, and there's no power that can take away those cherished memories from Gladys.
Sympathy of the class is extended to ChetPerry, who lost his wife on January 18. Funeral services were held at St. Peter's Episcopal Church, Weston, Mass., on January 21. Chet was married to Florence Marston, sister of Dinny Marston, who was Chet's close friend in college and the years that have followed. "Florence and Chet had a very happy life together for something over forty years," Dinny wrote. "They have two children, both married. Their son, Norman, is an officer in the Merchant Marine, and the daughter, Sally, is married to a Dartmouth man and living in Rochester, N.Y."
Turning Up Lately
Art O'Mara, the Jersey flash, finally breaks his silence: "Several times I have had the urge to write you, but writing to you or talking to you is dangerous - one never knows what you will print. However, I will tell you I am very healthy, am consuming my proper share of booze, went to Bermuda on my vacation last summer, saw Dartmouth lick Princeton, 34-12, and on November 18 became a grandfather to Denis Arthur O'Mara IV, son of A. Jas. O'Mara Jr. '42. Hope to see you this spring, you old goat,"
The title of author has been tagged onto Carl Butman, radio specialist of Washington, D.C. He wrote a piece about ending sentences with a preposition and dam if it wasn't accepted by Good Housekeeping mag and printed in their January issue.
A letter from Margaret Chappelear says it's a grand feeling to be looking forward to '09's reunion in '55. (How about you two grabbing off our unofficial reunion this year?) Continuing, "We have as our guest for nine weeks Curt Sheldon's daughter Cynthia, who is a sophomore at Bennington College. Her course requires nine weeks of work, so she is with Time magazine at Rockefeller Center. She is a charming and lovely girl. We celebrated Chap's birthday on January 14, and our daughter Joan and her husband were with us. Cynthia and Joan talked until 2:30 A.M. My good husband asked, 'Where do these girls get their gift of gab?' and answered himself by saying, 'from Beryl (that's Curt's little woman) and Margaret.' "
After 28 years as pastor of Oxford County United Parish, Waterford, Maine, WilburBull has turned the active work over to a new minister and has been handed the title of "Minister Emeritus." At the close of his official duties he was presented with a movie camera, two projectors, and a silver service. Let US get in on the laudations, Bill, and wish you many happy years of retirement, but not of inactivity. Now, you and the Mrs., when you attend class reunions (you should be on the job both this year and next) can take movies of the goings on and then become a traveling lecturer, combining mayhap, shots of your beloved Maine which you claim as a Garden Spot.
It's about time to beat out another '09 Diddings, and don't think there isn't news for it. The accumulation's been good, thanks to strategic.correspondents. Meanwhile, Lana, the glamour puss, and I are keeping house at Hitching Post Manor in the Garden Spot, while my two women folks are cleaning out my wife's aunt's house in Los Angeles. By the time this is seen in print, if, when and as, they should be back home again. Until our next visit, good luck to one and all.
Class Notes Editor, Pioneer Trail, Aurora, Ohio
Secretary and Treasurer, Sandwich, Mass.
Bequest Chairman,
