1914
May was a pretty important month a few years ago for the following men. They were born then, so let's give a Wah-Hoo-Wah for: Files, Kingsford, Kinne, LeCount, MacAlister, MacKinnon, Main, Sleeper, Smith, Teachout, and Warren.
This, as you may have guessed, is election year. Our candidates will not stump the country kissing babies, shaking hands covered with mayonnaise, and making impossible promises. But just the same, our candidates are pretty important to the class of 1914. Our redoubtable, assiduous, faithful, and so forth, and so forth, and so forth, Pennell Aborn and his committee have prepared a slate on which you will be asked to vote at reunion time. It will probably be one of the most important elections which we as a class have ever undertaken, and JimGregg urges that all of us make a note of this "date with destiny."
Our good friend, Henry Lowell, sends along from Palm Beach a little verse which is most appropriate for the up-coming tennis match between Win Webber and WinSnow -
I do not enjoy golfers who Pursue the elusive pill, Nor those who shine at tennis To show their vaunted skill. I'm too contented to compete For now the years are flitting, I find congenial exercise In standing up and sitting.
Eddie Elkins was kind enough to send me a top notch collection of nostalgic photographs and we are grateful to Eddie for the thoughtfulness. But the MAGAZINE has quite rightly curtailed the space allotted to each class and we couldn't publish these interesting snapshots of those days long, long ago when we all were younger, friskier, and hungrier. Thank you, Eddie.
Speaking of days long, long ago, I can remember walking by Rollins Chapel one calm June afternoon. It was quite fitting and "in the mood" to hear some beautiful organ music floating out among the leafed-out elms and maples. So we decided to investigate the source of the lovely notes coming from this venerated building. The performer - and he was most eloquent - was our own Hugh MacKinnon who rightly made music his life work. After years of teaching, Hugh has retired to what he and I agree is one of the world's finest cities, San Francisco. I am looking forward to the day when I can again walk up Russian Hill and hope that Hugh is busy at the organ when I catch that most satisfying view of San Francisco Bay. Hugh says that he can see the Campanile in Berkeley over his back fence. And believe me, that's a view worthwhile!
Here's an exercise in initials: DCB - VP - PPG. Stop guessing, it stands for Donald C. Burnham, vice president, Pittsburgh Plate Glass Company. Our once blond Dutch, writes intriguingly that he and his wife have just returned from the shortest Mediterranean trip in history. They sailed on the American Export Line on March 4 and then, about 400 miles at sea, fire was discovered in the ship's galley. So the captain turned the ship around and returned Dutch and the other 86 passengers back to New York. No casualties, no grumbling, no food - except cold cuts. Undaunted in his further attempts to see the world, Dutch and his wife are now flying to Italy and will return in time for the big 50th in June.
Freddie Campbell, like so many other wise men, has decided to live in New Hamp-shire, but, like so many other wise people spends a large part of his time in Florida. Since retirement Freddie has been very active in community affairs in the lovely village of Peterborough and is one of the leading lights in the local Historical Society and the Monadnock Council of Churches. He has limited his athletic endeavors now to bowling and bridge but every once in a while manages to pry himself away from these activities and sees the world. Freddie has a sort of intercollegiate family. His Bryn Mawr daughter married to a U. of Illinois man, his Smith daughter married to an Amherst man, and his son, a Dartmouth '44 grad, married to a girl at the U. of Michigan. It will be a fine Thanksgiving Day get-together with all those points of view.
Our able Newsletter Editor, Mart, writes from Sea Island, Ga., that he is wondering what has happened to all the big cakes of ice deposited by the two rivers near his house in White River. We don't know whether Mart has managed to get his golf game down below 70, but he reports that he has tried.
It looks as if we may not have FletcherColby with us for the reunion, for Fletch is only slowly recovering from a bilateral hip operation which certainly limits his traveling. As you probably know, Fletch turned out to be one of the distinguished medical men in Massachusetts. He was chief of Urology Service at Mass. General Hospital and professor at the Harvard Medical School. As well as being a consultant at many hospitals and being one of the highly esteemed general practitioners in Massachusetts, he is the author of two textbooks on his specialty. And, as if this weren't enough, he has taken several cups for skeet shooting. I wonder where these young fellows get the time or the energy.
If you want to meet a real live Town Auditor look for handsome John Burleigh. Johnny is town auditor of the town of Bed-ford, N. H., and they say carries his honor with aplomb. John's oldest son, George, teaches English at Plainfield, Conn., High School and his son, Jack, is a vice-president of New York's prestigious Chemical Bank. John says he is interested in everything - and we believe it - that doesn't have to do with or involve physical effort. I can see why.
If you ask Johnny Hazen for something you'll get it. So, when we asked Johnny for some news about him we weren't surprised to get a good note from Dartmouth Headquarters in Florida. Clearwater seems to be the focal point for the boys of 1914 and Johnny reports some fine meetings with Howard Fahey, Charley Batchelder, Gus Fuller, Walt Humphrey, Paul Smith, and Rosie Hinman. Johnny also reports that this fine galaxy of stars expects to be in Hanover for the Big Reunion even if they have to swim the White River to the Junction to get there.
Mirabile Dictu! We have a letter from Dick Mac Allister! Dick says that about in 1957 he stopped working on his second million and took up residence in Mexico for a couple of years. The climate, the natives, the land, and the rum were all most satisfactory - but in spite of these allurements the MacAllisters pulled up stakes and bought a place in Hampton, N. H. Dick leaves himself wide open to all sorts of stragglers at all times of day and night when he says the "latch strings are pulled out at 12 Morning-side Drive, Hampton, N. H." We'll come along sometime, Dick. I prefer mine with ginger ale.
Again we close on a solemn note. Our classmate Leon Hobbs passed away on March 6. An obituary notice will appear in this or subsequent issue. And we note with sadness that Jim Hawley's good wife, Dorothy, passed away on the 15th. Les Bacon and Fred Davidson represented the class at the funeral and carried expressions of sympathy to Jim from all of us who knew this vibrant and happy person.
And the final shocking note just came from San Francisco. "Bill" Washburn died instantaneously of a heart attack on March 23. A fitting obituary notice will appear in a later issue.
SEE YOU IN JUNE!
Secretary, Farwell Lane, New London, N. H.
Class Agent, 21 Orlando Ave., Winthrop 52, Mass.
