Letters

Seeing I

To THE EDITOR:

I think you will find that Governor Fuller's first name is spelled ALVAN. It's surprising to see it spelled ALVIN both on the sign over the boathouse (p. 24, June issue) and in the legend below the picture.

Excuse my seeing I!

Hingham, Mass.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Mr. Stone is right. We hope the Rowing Club will call its sign painter back and make amends to Mr. Fuller, whose generosity surely rates an "A."

Honesty Runs Rampant

To THE EDITOR:

I don't know if it was Dr. Winship's prejudice against Ph.D.'s or typographical errors that resulted in the misspellings of my name in the Dr.'s letter to this column in June, but I'm glad he openly acknowledges his prejudice. It serves as a warning that rational discussion is out of order. Reason is generally ineffectual where prejudice is involved. However, let me warn our readers that Dr. Winship is not only prejudiced, but also clairvoyant! He has apparently read Volume 10 of "The Psychoanalytic Study of the Child" in spite of the fact that it has not yet been published!

As long as we are all being so honest in owning up to our prejudices, I'll reveal mine by giving you the latest definition of a psychiatrist: a physician who practices psychology without a Ph.D.

New York, N. Y.

"Hi, George!"

To THE EDITOR:

Perhaps this anecdote might amuse your readers as it did me. It certainly should appeal to those who know the people involved.

Not long ago, on the Friday preceding a long weekend, a friend in my office mentioned that he would be spending part of Saturday in Hanover and asked if there were any messages I'd like to send to old friends. Knowing his time would be limited I thought for a second and then said, "Well, there is one professor I worked with a lot in the Players. You might give him my regards. His name is George Schoenhut, in Robinson Hall, just up the street from the Inn. Here ..." I jotted "Schoenhut, Robinson Hall" on a slip of paper for him and forgot the incident.

Unfortunately, my friend forgot the slip of paper with the name. He did, however, remember Robinson Hall, so he walked in Saturday morning, accosted someone in the front hall, and said, "I'm looking for a professor who has an office in here, but I've forgotten his name. It's a long, German name beginning with, I think, Sch - ."

The well-intentioned Samaritan thought for a moment and then replied, "You must mean Schlossmacher."

"That's it," said my friend, little knowing the consequences of his forgetfulness. Schlossie wasn't in his office, so my friend got the address from the phone book and off he went to Schlossie's house. The great man opened the door with an hospitable, "Ja?"

"I've a message from Bob Nutt. 'Hello.' " Pause.

"From whom?"

"Bob Nutt. You remember."

Doubtfully, "Bop Knut . . . hmmm?"

"Tall . . . er . . . crew cut. Glasses?" At this point my friend began to wonder if perhaps . . .

"Bop Knut . . . no, I don't think I know him. Certainly not a Cherman major . . ."

Well, to make a long story short, they eventually identified the parties involved and Professor Schlossmacher dialed Professor Schoenhut. Unfortunately, the latter was out, so if my message never got through, here it is: "Hi, George!"

Staten Island, N. Y.