1916
It is with great regret that we learn of the death on November 2 of Hobey Baker's wife Margaret following a long illness. To Hobey: the deep sympathy of the Class, and our affectionate regard.
I am also sorry to report that Stirling Wilson has come North to enter the Naval Hospital at Bethesda, Md., for observation and a possible operation. The imperturbable Stirling says he has been told that "the operation would be somewhat less enjoyable than an evening at the opera, but whatthehell."
The engagement of Bill McKenzie's son James Wallace McKenzie '51 to Rita Sue Rowley was recently announced in the Akron papers, which also carried a picture of the lovely gal. Rita is a Wellesley graduate.
Do you folks within the range of Station WOR. New York, tune in at 5.45 Sunday afternoons? If not you are missing something good, the Nan Garcia Show. Guest stars have included General Romulo, Ogden Reid of the Herald Tribune, Patrice Munsel and Cesare Siepi of the "Met," and many others. Although I have never met Tony's daughter her picture is most attractive. I am told that she is the image of her mother, although on occasion she looks as Tony does when somebody accuses him of having an inside track at the Inn which enables him every summer to get that choice big room on the northwest corner, overlooking the campus and Main Street.
Akron makes the headlines again in this column with a recent story of Cap Palmer and a picture of that distinguished looking gent. And the story of this public-spirited citizen would put most of us stick-in-the-muds to shame. Cap, who is president of the Burt Manufacturing Co., a steel fabricating plant, was heading up the Summit County United Fund — Red Cross joint drive, a mere matter of raising some $2,700,000.
Spence Sully has written Stirling a fine letter full of courage and with philosophy that would do your heart good. He takes himself to task for not getting up to the hospital oftener to see Red Tucker. Red's address, by the way, is Ward 9, Veterans Ad- ministration Hospital, San Fernando, Cal.; I know that he would be glad to get word from his classmates.
Joe Newmark's wife Selma has had the misfortune to fall while crossing the street and break her hip. We all extend to Selma our best wishes, and hope for a speedy convalescence and a complete recovery. And while on the subject of Joe and Selma, I had the pleasure of reading the account of their wanderings abroad last summer. Joe remarked that tripping abroad is so commonplace nowadays that there would be little interest in their journeyings. On the contrary, they seemed to go from one delightful experience to another. If you don't mind, Joe, I would like to include just one of them nere, the one about Bernhard Berensen, the American art critic, who is recognized as the greatest living connoisseur of Italian art, and upon whose judgment collectors rely implicitly. To quote joe:
The next day we spent at Villa I Tatti with Bernhard Berensen (listed by the New York Times as one of the ten greatest old men living today). Two years ago when we visited him Selma and he hit it off like old pals and at dinner the conversation was keen indeed. Although 91 years old he knows what is going on all over the world, and he just sparkles with life and understanding. Two years ago when he admired my hat and tried it on, in the real Chinese fashion I left it with him. Some time later his picture was in the papers as he was examining a Renaissance painting and by gum he was wearing my hat. This year he is working on a six-volume work, three of which are finished. While we were sitting in the library after dinner I remarked that I sat with a Canadian at the Rotary Club in Paris, who told me that his father had buried Van Gogh, and I related the story as I remembered it. Although I had read the two biographies of Van Gogh neither had told the strange circumstances of his burial. This interested Berensen and he asked me to put the story on paper and get it to him as quickly as possible. I did better than that; I contacted my friend in Canada and his sister, who had put the story in writing before their father died, who sent me a copy, which I forwarded to Berensen in Florence. Whether he is to use it in his works I do not know. When we left him in his surroundings of another world he hugged us warmly, kissed us on both cheeks and hoped that we could come again soon. If we do go again it must be soon, as he is 91 (and we aren't getting younger).
Your reporter is curious to know the story of Van Gogh's burial - I am aware that he was a suicide - perhaps Joe will enlighten me.
Dutch Doenecke, Jack Curtin and Jake Mensel (the Squire of Woodbridge), among others, are actively working on the Yale weekend party next November. They are not yet in a position to publish their findings, but thank the Lord we won't have to look at that senior backfield of the Yalies again.
Among the out of town Balmacaaners at the 1916 dinner in Boston on the eve of the Harvard game were Tug Tyler, Johnny Pelletier and your correspondent. It was a new experience for me and a most enjoyable one. The dinner was at the Algonquin Club, and, besides the above, there were present the following brethren: Bobst, Cutler, Eigner, Ellis, English, Fletcher, Fuller, Jardine, Lewis, Marsden, Morse, Mullen, Newmark, Parkhurst, Soule and Tapley. Bob Steinert and Park Hayden stopped by for cocktails, but had later engagements. Gene McQuesten had had a recent cataract operation and was unable to attend. Cliff Bean, Cap Carey and Ed Craver were among those who couldn't make it. Fred Bailey, who had recently joined the Cardiac Club (Advt. - Jack English, President and Corresponding Secretary), phoned his best wishes to the class from the Massachusetts General. Jess Fenno, who had to return home that day had just visited Fred during the afternoon. President Dickey came down from a trustees' meeting to say hello and to give us the lowdown on the team. We sent a telegram of greeting to our president, Stew Paul, who would like to have been with us. The group was interested to learn at first hand of Stew's inauguration and Alec Jardine and Dick Parkhurst were able to oblige. Many other stories went the rounds, but the most interesting to me was Dick Parkhurst's account of the silver service which the four classes gave to President Ernest Fox Nichols, upon the occasion of his retirement in 1916. Our own Chick Pudrith made the presentation. Through the good offices of Dick and his wife the service was among the memorabilia of the Nichols Era loaned to the exhibition in the Library at Commencement. Doctor Nichols' daughter, Miss Nichols, was so impressed with the exhibit that she decided that the service should remain in the permanent possession of the College. One more of the fine things that Dick and his wife have done for the class and the college!
After such a nice evening and a pleasant visit with Sam Cutler I didn't feel too chagrined at the outcome of the game next day, though I think we might well have won this one, as well as the Penn game.
The silver coffee service presented to President and Mrs. Ernest Fox Nichols by the undergraduates in 1916 when Dr. Nichols left Dartmouth has been given to the College for permanent preservation by Miss Esther Nichols of Washington, D. C., daugher of the late President. It was on display in Baker Library earlier this year as part of the exhibition marking the 40th anniversary of President Nichols' administration.
Class Notes Editor, 7 Swarthmore PL, Swarthmore, Pa.
Box 1998, Ormond Beach, Fla. Secretary,
Treasurer, 15 Ravenna Rd., Boston 31, Mass.
Bequest Chairman,
