1921
When you spend your life in Honolulu, what happens? led Merriam of the Bank of Hawaii speaks of fulfilments. With retirement obligatory at 65 in excellent health and with excess energy he is now skirting the globe. He is spending some time in Japan, for Southeast Asia has been looking something less than promising. Authorities advised him to omit Cambodia, that province of French Indo-China, and such places as Pnom-Penh, Battambang, Kampot, and Kompong-Cham, which means necessarily no glimpse of Angkor, the old capitol, now only the ruins of a city. The palaces of Hindu, not Khmer, inspiration, date from the 6th century when Then-Ha (Cambodia) won its independence.
And if you spend your life teaching and doing research in Physics and Chemistry, what happens? After M.I.T., the Boston University Physical Research Laboratory, and Itek, Walter Holt has retired. You can get the drift by hearing what he did at Itek alone: the physical testing of glass endurance to thermal shock, optical coating, the measurement of the refractive index _ of glass, lens testing, and resolutions testing. Spare time? Of course: bowling, Softball, and tennis. The future? The creation of a home-made telescope, a MACSUTOV, the latest type for stellar and planetary observation.
And if you spend your life working for a mattress and bed company, do you at 65 get bedded down? Not Jack Hubbell. Simmons Co. refused to retire him and has given him a new title, Vice President Publie Relations, a new office, 300 Park Ave., and a new assignment, sales strategy with emphasis on dealer relations and with no responsibility in advertising.
Your life teaching Spanish and French? Retired, Phil Noyes is again breathing the intoxicating air of classrooms. After "four years of absence he dropped in at the Fair-haven (Mass.) High School just to say hello. The result? He agreed to pinchhit. Assignments were fantastic for a Romance Language Specialist: English and Shakespeare, American History, Chinese History, Business Law, Typing. Response was gratifying. Phil attributes his success to his desire to put fun into fundamentals. Too many teachers think of boys and girls as under mentals. It doesn't do to talk down.
Corey Ford is sad about the decline of boxing at Dartmouth and the emptiness of his private gymnasium where at one time he was training as many as 40 boxers. In the last two years he has been coaching only one student, a senior, Harry Crosswell from Pottsville, Pa., a Beta and an English major heading for law school. With laudable results. Harry recently won so decisively the Welterweight Golden Gloves Championship of New Hampshire in Manchester that officials awarded him the Saint Jean trophy as the outstanding boxer of the tournament, the first such award ever won by a Dartmouth undergraduate. Now, after six years of training in a Pennsylvania YMCA and four in Corey Ford's gym, Harry, "the best natural athlete-artist I have ever trained," says Corey, has retired.
Known to 1921 as a humorist, Corey has been working ten hours a day on serious writing. His new book, "Peculiar Service, Spies in the American Revolution," published by Little Brown, will appear in August. Recently he flew to California to do research on a new work about the discovery of Alaska. Up at 6 a.m., Corey eats a big breakfast and works without luncheon until 4 or 5. He did give himself a fortnight's break to hunt woodcock with EllisBriggs, but mostly it is work, work, work.
Don Smith has switched from rye to bourbon and believes that such intelligent regard for his health has resulted in better physical condition. Paying no attention to calories, he has gained only six pounds, and heart and blood pressure are O. K. He and Prue have a grandson, Marshall, born to his daughter Jean and Lawrence Murphy, who teaches at Fay School, Southboro, and Marshall has a vivid pictorial and linguistic sense. At Christmas the Fay School produced a lovely creche placed on a mantelpiece too high for a small boy. Accordingly one day Marshall said to his mother, "Lift me up so I can see the German shepherds and the three wise guys."
Rog and Caroline Wilde, Joe and TaveLane, and Bob Burroughs regaled themselves with Portuguese wine, food, scenery, and color at the Hotel Ritz, Lisbon, last month. In a hired car with native driver the Wildes and Lanes visited places exotic enough to stimulate you: Aljubarrota, Bussaco, and Santiego de Cacen in Portugal; and, in Spain, Seville, Algeciras, Granada, Toledo, and Madrid. After a sojourn in Palma, Majorca, they plan to embark for Barcelona, and with another hired car to visit in France Carcassonne, Montblazon, and Paris. Defying anticlimax, they will seek out Amsterdam and Rotterdam.
Furb Haight has a reputation for thinking generously and acting expeditiously. His latest exploit brought joy to a 1921 widow, Dorothy, wife of Merrill Shoup. Furb wrote to the 1921 Deke delegation to suggest that they contribute money to buy a rare, fine, and expensive book to honor Merrill in the Treasure Room, Baker Library. Responding to the appeal were: Ben Tenney, Jerry Cutler, Gordon Merriam, Ed Kelly, Doug Storer, Bill Embree, Stan Gorham, and Harvey Burton.
Good news from Hoy Schulting. So well did he come through his first heart attack in 1953 that he did not have another until 1964, and he survived that one so well that he is now back in his office.
So fulfilling is Sarasota for Al Catterall that not once has he gone to New York since he retired from Hearst Magazines in 1958. He has built a house for himself on the 17th fairway of the Sara Bay Country Club, and golf is his passion. He describes his game as "respectable," and asserts that he is past the time when he could become a sharpshooter. This is first-tee talk, as Sandy Sanders, John Sullivan, and RynieRothschild would point out. They are no sharpshooters either; they cannot break 70.
Skinny Moore of Wellesley dreamed his dreams, and one was Hawaii. He surprised himself by buying in Clearwater, Fla., what with some understatement he describes as "a nice little shack." He hopes to say hello to George McMillan, only about 35 miles distant as the flamingo flies.
Because of an unusually severe Buffalo winter with intense cold and deep snow, Bill Marcy quit it for Jamaica to live in a rented house at Montego Bay.
It was a throw rug, well named; and if you have one, perhaps before it throws you down, you should throw it out. At 14 Brattle St., West Hartford, it had lain dormant, docile, and decorative, but suddenly it proved treacherous. Sally, wife of RalphBaker, found herself abruptly and ignominiously floored. Damage: four broken ribs. Result: pain for four months. Aftermath: better health than ever.
Slim as a willow wand — that was JackGraydon of yesteryear. Because a testy doctor insisted that Jack quit smoking, he has gained 25 pounds. Where? Deliberately cultivating ambiguity, Jack says, "Almost all of it in one very wrong place." Stocky Jack spent recently two weeks in Bermuda swimming in the ocean to flaunt his new robustness, sleeping in a friend's cottage, and helping a friend marry off a daughter. There's more to Bermuda and to Jack than this, but such is the official news.
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