1939
It has been pointed out to us by an erstwhile director of admissions at St. Lawrence University that we erred in our March column. We stated that the new director there of the National French Institute Center was our Dr. Harrison Jones. But nay, says Browny. Make your peace with Dr. Harriman Jones. We apologize, Jonesy, but please refer to The Aegis, 1939 edition, and note well the discrepancies on pages 247 and 108. Live, let live, and lose a few elections. But thanks anyway, Moreau.
Abandoning the esoteric for erotica, we reveled in Dartmouth pleasures and problems one day last week for eighteen hours straight. President Dickey, Jack Dodd '22, this year's Alumni Fund chairman, and their entourage, terminated a cross-country safari in Cincinnati with morning workshops for us higher-paid help in enrollment and Fund collection. These were followed by lunch and an address by Mr. Dickey on the superlative calibre of our present undergraduates and ideals that left me feeling as intellectually shabby as the tramp in Cartier's rest room. Fortunately, I was able to share my feeling of incompetence with John Egbert and his wife Louisa. They had to leave early to meet a son returning home for vacation from Choate. In fact they have a couple of daughters away at school, too. But that old legal business keeps on rolling along and they both look fine. They reported that HassWarrener and his wife, who should have attended this meeting, were leaving shortly for that new mecca of the escapologists, the Grecian Islands. Continuing the long Dartmouth day, we had the Glee Club in Dayton that evening. Warner Kiefaber and I searched the roster for any sons of 39ers, but concluded our class, with but few exceptions, must have lacked musical genes.
One of these exceptions is Shag Hatch. A "Green Collegian" of yesteryear, from all indications he has ripened but is still knocking out the bass fiddle, fronting a jazz group called "The Four Horsemen" on the stands around northwestern Pennsylvania. He is currently at the Congdon Hotel in Union City, Pa., but the return address on his envelope would make Dr. Harriman Jones shudder with pigeon gallic pains. It reads: "Le Societe de Jazz Hot sur le banque gauche de Crique Francais, Union City, Pa."
On vacation this spring Cocky and I spent some time at our favorite spa near Santa Barbara and had as luncheon guests one day Lynne and Dr. Kevin Fay. Kevin is like a bit of transplanted Boston, but his wife .adds a flamboyant Ohio influence. Kevin commented that when his father went to Dartmouth it was a poor man's college tor those who couldn't afford Harvard. I Para" phrased President Dickey on how we should glory in our good fortune that it is now a highly respected and sought-after institution. (This time of year we always twist our conversations around to the soul solacing goodies to be found in supporting and eulogizing the Alumni Fund. And with a class goal or $17,640.00 we should have started these subtle conversations sooner - like in grammar school!) The Fays and their kids have lived in Santa Barbara over ten years. They re trying to fight the local building restrictions to build the sort of house they want perched on one of the many local mountainside properties. So far they're not doing very well and may end up with a living room on a forty degree slant. Even doctors have troubles.
Our other living and breathing classmate recently moved to Santa Barbara is also a doctor - Frank Cline. He is head of the Santa Barbara County Health Dept. and retains some authority in the State of California over pulmonary and chest diseases. In fact, Frank couldn't join us for lunch because of a meeting with television producers working on a state-wide program promoting chest health (doubtless starring Jayne Mansfield). Frank is still a bachelor. He applied for transfer to this location to be near the ocean because when he isn't working he is sailing (or saving tax-deductible dollars for the Alumni Fund).
The last Sunday evening in March we were visited in Dayton by Clem Burnap who was on tour finishing up a three-year assignment for North American Aviation's nuclear development division. Clem and his wife have no children, and they have pretty much knocked around all over the world while Clem has promoted, programmed, and sold heavy processing equipment and systems. North American now have back orders for years to come in commercial nuclear power reactors and Clem is looking for another assignment. We will happily forward any leads.
""The Alumni Record Office has belatedly learned of the death due to cancer of classmate Don Lieber on July 22, 1961. His widow lives at Apt. 12, 225 So. Madison St., Monrovia, Calif. We have written Mrs. Lieber, and when details are available, they will appear in the In Memoriam column.
The Wall Street Journal of Feb. 2, '62 carried an advertisement of Rollins Burdick Hunter Co., insurance brokers and average adjusters (the soft sell) announcing the appointment of Lawrence E. Gilbert as manager of their international division with headquarters in New York.
Since we're still up to our Adam's apple in cornballs, we might as well bow out on a Fund binge. In a recent letter from head agent Junie Merriam he announced that this old golden retriever he has (which I always thought was a male) just gave birth to seven yowling puppies. Each week Junie is going to select a name at random from the class roster. If that classmate hasn't already given to the Fund and INCREASED over his last pledge, Junie is going to name the puppy some embarrassing name and send it express collect to said classmate's boss, biggest stockholder, meanest ex-wife or some other suitable person as a gift from YOU. THINK! TIME IS RUNNING OUT! SAVE THE PUPPIES FOR JUNIE!
Secretary, 1908 Coolidge Drive Dayton 19, Ohio
Class Agent, 70 Pine St., New York 5, N. Y.
