LETTERS
No Joyful Noise
To THE EDITOR:
The Hopkins Dinner at the Waldorf does leave a pleasant memory, but I do have one question. Why was there no provision made for those attending the Dinner to have a part in the proceedings? I have nothing elaborate in mind, but it would have been a lot of fun to push the walls out by leaning on "Men of Dartmouth." Is Dartmouth singing in the future to be only a matter for those trained to sing? Surely, there is the best of Authority for "a joyful noise."
New York, N. Y.
A Hopkins Anecdote
TO THE EDITOR
In the February number of the ALUMNI MAGAZINE, McCarter gives a fine tribute to former President Hopkins, with an amusing remark by his father upon learning that his son had decided to go to Dartmouth. This brought to my mind an incident which occurred many years ago.
For a couple of years when Ernest and I were small boys, I saw a lot of his younger brother, Louis, and naturally played with Ernest also.
Their father was pastor of the Baptist church at the time, the parsonage of which was only two doors from my home. He was about the most dignified man I ever knew. He and my father, who was a physician, never left their homes without wearing their tall silk hats.
A few years ago while staying at the Inn, I called upon Ernest at his office. I mentioned the hardly noticeable scar on his upper lip, which dated back to the time when we were neighbors.
The accident had happened on a Sunday morning and my family was at breakfast when the doorbell rang repeatedly. Anticipating something interesting, I dashed through the hall, opened the door, and in came Mr. Hopkins supporting Ernest, who was holding a towel over his face, blood-soaked and dripping, and of course my father sewed the wound.
After we had remarked what a splendid job my father had done so long ago, I said, "That occurrence certainly made a big impression on me."
"If it did on you," Ernest replied, "it made a bigger one on me. Louis and I had been chasing each other, and my father, who had just finished shaving, was standing with legs spread apart, his hands behind him holding his open razor. To escape Louis I darted between my father's legs, struck the razor and split my upper lip right through from nose to mouth. You know how dignified my father always was. Why, even with only the family present, I never knew him to address my mother by her given name. He always said 'Mrs. Hopkins.' So when he saw blood gushing all over me, and I heard him shout to my mother in the kitchen, 'Mary! Mary! I've cut Ernest's nose off!' — you may believe I was impressed.
"There was a sequel to this not so very many years ago," Ernest continued. "I had attended and addressed an alumni group in the West and came into New York in the morning. I was very tired and as the washroom was crowded, I went over to the Commodore and down to the barber shop. The Italian barber tried to make conversation but I was too weary to be very communicative. He said no more until he was about through, when he mentioned the scar. "You had a bad cut there once," he said. "How did you get it?" Not wishing to spare the time' to give a detailed explanation, I answered simply, "My father did it."
"He did not sPeak for a few moments, then asked confidentially, "Was he drunk?"
Georgetown, Mass.
More Alumni Suffrage?
To THE EDITOR:
Professor Brown's article "What Makes a College New?" was excellent. It demonstrated how an institution such as Dartmouth can, for want of a strong purposeful policy, imperceptibly die from the top down.
One of the criticisms implicit in this article was the fact that Dartmouth's policies are not subject to a continually searching criticism Like our nation Dartmouth's long immunity has been lost. Dartmouth must answer to the future or pay the penalty of oblivion.
I would propose that Dartmouth create a body similar to Harvard's Board of Overseers freely elected by direct alumni vote and drawing on a broad cross-sectional representation.
The involved and antiquated method of trustee election permits the alumni no voice in college policies. The Trustees are essentially a closed, self-perpetuating body. The alumni have taxation without representation.
The alumni should be granted immediate suffrage.
New York, N. Y.
The Roaring Twenties
To THE EDITOR:
Charles Palmer's recent article about the beginning of the Barbary Coast in 1919 calls the golden days of the roaring twenties when the band played lucrative engagements most every weekend at Amherst, Williams, Norwich U., Skidmore, etc. I was lucky enough to play the drums with such real "greats" as Ken Semple, Cliff Randall, Phil Thompson, Johnnie Hahn, Ed Plumb, Russ Goudey, Ed Lilley, Red Kennedy, and others. Our real "training" was our job at the old Wheelock Eating Club where we played for lunch and dinner everyday for our meals, thus getting plenty of practice. The weird and exciting experiences on our numerous trips were too many and fantastic to outline here, but the real "pay off" was probably the smart summer engagements at the Palace Excelsior Hotel, the Lido, Venice, Italy, and La Reserve de Cibour in St. Jean de Luz, France.
The very next summer (1929), I believe the French Musicians Union shut out American college bands from such juicy plums and you can hardly blame them. At any rate it was terrific while it lasted.
Norwalk, Conn.
