1909

MISSING

Harry Blythe '07, a Dartmouth poet of repute, died a short six years after his graduation, on the threshold of a brilliant career in law. His love of Dartmouth was a highlight in his life, resulting in a number of poems relating to the college. These, with others of his poems, were published in book form the year after his death. With the fall season under way, the following verse reminds of autumn days when we were undergrads.

The lads come back in autumn, The coach climbs up the hill, And lusty lungs are singing, But one good pair is still.

The bells ring out for chapel Their old song and refrain, But now their morning music For one shall ring in vain.

And all about the campus The elms look on the scene, Searching for one young Spartan Who used to wear the Green.

Down on the old grim oval Eight hundred men give cheers, But one staunch voice is missing From the shouts for the Grenadiers.

Perhaps he still is with us, It cannot be denied A man might finish college, Despite the fact he died.

It's a whole lot different in Hanover these falls. In our day, the 800 lusty souls constituted the whole college, and now it would mean just the freshman class hitting Hanover, arriving mostly by automobile. In Harry's time, the student body would converge at White River Junction, arriving by trains operated by the Boston & Maine, the New York, New Haven & Hartford, and the Michigan Central. The New York Central and the Grand Trunk. The latter road, running from Chicago, carried passengers to Montreal, thence by the Vermont Central to White River. This train arrived at the June at the ungodly hour of 3 a.m. Then a wait around the station until the train pulled out for Norwich several hours later. If incoming students weren't too shy of dough they'd take passage on the stagecoach that met the train, thus saving a long climb up the hill. The old covered bridge across the Connecticut was then in existence. In memory, we can still smell the pungent odor of horses that lingered over the years until the present span was erected.

SLOGAN FOR '09's 55th

'09's far-sighted president, affable Al Newton, is already laying plans for our 55th reunion next June (how time does fly!). Although details are not worked out at this writing, he's sure of one thing - that ParsonBull will handle the memorial service for departed souls who now number two-thirds of those who were in our group during the four years in college.

When '09 had its 50th, a prize of a Parker 91 fountain pen was offered to the classmate who submitted the best slogan for the occasion, as judged by a committee. The slogan selected was, "It's Hanover for mine in Fifty-Nine." I blush to say that I was the winner, probably because I submitted more slogans than anyone else. For our 55th, Al has come through with a slogan that's right down the alley. It's "To the 'Fore' in Sixty-Four." Clever, eh? Al should award himself a Parker pen or equivalent.

Mike Farley, '09's bequest chairman, was wondering how he'd get across to '09 wives the message for the old man to leave something to Dartmouth in his will. In consulting a publicity guy he was told, "That's easy. Just address your letters to the husbands and mark them all 'Personal.' "

This might describe our friend, Ced Wellsted, who plays golf out at the Country Club, just outside the confines of Cleveland: "By the time a man can afford to lose a golf ball, he just can't hit it that hard."

Does this apply to '09's bachelor classmate, Tom Fardy? "The trouble with being a bachelor is, by the time you've played the field, you're too old to make a pitch."

When Gladys, widow of Hal Pratt, was keeping steady company with her present mate, Milt Evans, she asked a perfume salesgirl to show her the newest brand of perfume. The salesgirl remarked: "To tell the truth, I consider this brand unsportsmanlike - sort of like dynamiting fish." It must have appealed to Milt for they got married soon after and they've been lovely-dovey since. You two had better make up your minds right now to be on hand for our 55th next June.

A piece on Cuddy Murphy '21 appeared in the February, 1962, class notes. Known as one of Dartmouth's outstanding athletes - football, track, and baseball - he was described by Doc Bowler as having "the finest muscular development of any man he had ever seen." At that time, only one photo of Cuddy was available in the Dartmouth Records office. It showed Cuddy in sweater, but it gave no idea of his physical development. My banjo-playing friend in Aurora, Evie Petot '22, who was a frat brother in Deke with Cuddy, has located a photo of Cuddy in a track suit that is presented herewith. You'll agree that Cuddy was all man. Petot is willing for the college to retain the photo of Cuddy in its record files, should its use at some future time be desired.

THE CHURCHILL BROTHERS

When I was in Chicago (it's now over 26 years since we moved to Aurora) I had the pleasure of knowing the Churchill brothers, Dick and Ed, both '02. Dick was a good Psi U brother and Ed was a Beta. In college their name was "Kirschberger," but during the First World War they translated the German name to its English equivalent, "Churchill."

To Bob Jackson '00, one of my correspondents, I mentioned their names and he wrote: "I knew them intimately. Ed was my fraternity brother in Beta. They were solid individuals and popular . . . and ardent Dartmouth men. One incident I remember was when Charlie Boyle went berserk one day, chased Jimmie McCarten with a carving knife, then tackled Dick and bit him on the neck so badly he had to have medical attention. Charlie, who was a star end of the football teams in the late '90's, was drunk, of course. He also attacked Ben Prescott of my class, a man who never claimed the slightest interest in athletics, and Ben knocked him cold with a single punch." Bob saw the knockout with his own eyes.

I have a warm spot in my heart for the Churchill brothers. Ed, who was a mortgage banker, was a frequent attendant at Dartmouth lunches. He was a story-teller of note, and a camera fan who took shots of unusual scenes in his world travels. Dick, who was in the wholesale tailoring business, later retired to an estate in Louisiana that he had been developing for several years before leaving Chicago. At the time of his departure he gave me a large framed engraving of the Dartmouth campus, a constant reminder of him which I have hanging in my den.

Dartmouth associations, regardless of class, can't be beat.

Enjoying the Inn porch during their informal 1907 reunion in June are (I to r) PhilChase, Bob Kenyon, Class Secretary Greb Grebenstein, and Arthur Winslow.

Class Notes Editor, 141 Pioneer Trail, Aurora, Ohio

Secretary and Treasurer, Sandwich, Mass.