1944's 20th
The only thing I recall having learned at Dartmouth was "Caveat Emptor." I accepted the hoopla about the Roaring Twentieth with my well-learned lesson, but went, nonetheless, expecting the worst. The only thing wrong about the promotion by advertising oriented Berry-Craig-Welch is that they didn't exude enough!
The weekend was absolutely magnificent. We not only broke the all-time 20th Reunion attendance record by 100 with a total of 441 alumni, wives, and offspring, but helped the Tanzis hit a new high in keg sales. I can't ever recall seeing so many happy, smiling souls who had got by with so few hours' sleep as were at Jim Browning's beautiful home for brunch on Sunday morning. Even Rocky Davidson, who stayed at Jim's house, and got up after three hours' sleep looking and breathing like a dragon, broke into a weak grin when he stepped out into the sunlit garden:
For some accolades: John Berry, HoseCraig, and Sperk Welch and their wives deserve and received the most. Nothing was left undone. Their organization marvelous. Tank Bruce performed with usual excellence in the tent and beer department, even to the point of bringing up some of our leading liver specialists for sampling and diagnosis. Ja Densmore, food chairman, did an outstanding job, particularly at the banquet. Our music man, Stan Barr, got a hold on a way-out drummer who achieved his zenith of frenzy from 2 a.m. on, precluding any time wasted in slumber. Athletic director Wemo Epply had the apparatus and plans, but finally succumbed to the whim of the will and asked Sten to draw one. Genial Hap Bush won applause for his program work as well as his excellent job as Newsletter editor. Special appreciation was expressed to Clint Gardner for an excellent and dignified memorial service for those members of our Class who have passed on.
If only those of us who were at the banquet were G. O. P. delegates, the nomination would be automatic for our toastmaster, Clark MacGregor. He did a dandy job and showed the talents that have made him a national figure to be reckoned with. (Incidentally, we passed through Harrisburg last night on the way home, and read that among the select party leaders meeting with Scranton and Rocky at the Governor's home was our distinguished toastmaster.)
I'm sure Howie Pennington thought his trek from San Francisco would win an award; as did Rock and Dottie Davidson from Dallas, or Teeny and Marilyn Riggs from Tulsa. But it turned out that they were almost White River neighbors compared to the Joe MacFarlands who journeyed up from San Paulo, Brazil! MacCorner was honored as the most prolific and loving father for having brought six junior Corners to examine what happened to his jolly classmates in twenty long years.
Joan McLaughry was undoubtedly the most popular girl. She's been confined to a wheelchair since last fall, but in the wee hours of Saturday night when the dance contest was literally hitting blast proportions, she took to the floor and walked away with a prize. Joan was rather miffed at me because I never reported the birth of little Linda last July. She sent the announcement to "Twitch" Miller, Milford, Ohio, and still can't believe I didn't get it. Linda was Bob and Joan's third child since Joan contracted multiple sclerosis, which is recognized as a national and perhaps world's record. Just to make family life more interesting, Boston Bob when he isn't spoiling the baby is teaching 13-year-old Bruce how to pilot an airship.
The Dance Contest was a beautiful and jungle-like endeavor, ably MC'd by suave and truly amusing Sperk Welch. Dave Mills was a tiger for prizes. As was Warren Sullivan. Bill Orr was dandy, too, even doing a solo with the tent pole. Buffy CrawfordHills spoiled my dancing interests by trying to line me up with a 210 1b. campus cop. There was a baldhead contest which was narrowed down to Yul Brunner coiffeured doctors Bill Stahl and Bill Gatlin. Gatlin had shaved at noon and won by lack of a hair.
Bill Gatlin got enthused with our showing in the Alumni Fund, asked to be appointed an agent so he could go back home and hit up colleague Nick Daukas. He was granted his wish in spite of assurances that Nick had already made a generous gift. It's embarrassing but in the interests of salesmanship, I should record that within three days, Nick sent in an additional $100!
Now is the time to really congratulate Phil Penberthy! Word is in that he has reached and has exceeded his demanding goal. It was interesting to note the pride that the men in the Class took in our Alumni Fund showing.
Bird Partridge has his swing grooved like Snead and made a shambles of the Hanover golf course as well as his opponents. Buffy Crawford Hills has his swing grooved like Lizzie Borden and almost knocked down the ski jump on the 16th. Blueduck Eaton joined us on the back nine for his first golf outing of the year and banged in seven pars, two bogies.
Because this is a dignified, family magazine I can't report why Chucker Glines was given the award, but the committee presented him with one of the best looking shovels you'll ever want to see.
Surprisingly enough, there was very little mayhem. Still enough stories to continue on in the fall. We have to hold these notes short this month. Any good pictures you have will be much appreciated. All except Bill McElnea's, that is. I saw Bill snapping away like mad and asked him to send me some. "I'm not taking any of you old goats. I'm just taking them of the good-looking daughters."
But we still do want some of the gentlemen in their more ungentlemanly poses.
The 1944 teen-age tent was a magnet for swingers above and below the limit.
CLASS SECRETARY
