1918

September it is still as I start to pen my second despatch of the current college year. Convocation is just over - held in Leverone the evening of Monday the 22nd. After we sang "America the Beautiful" and heard Dean Dey's opening prayer - one of Eleazar Wheelock's there were "remarks" - excellent brief speeches - by two students, one of them Johnson '70, President of the Interdormitory Council, the other Gary Savatsky '71, President of Green Key. Then the College's new Dean, Carroll Brewster, from Yale, whose wit won the assembly's standing ovation. More remarks next from Professor Kreider, chairman of the faculty Committee on Organization and Policy, a highfalutin' title I, hard of hearing, didn't catch, and for a while wondered with puzzlement the why of his frequent mention by initials only of the Grand Old Party! At last Mr. Dickey's final Convocation address. A great one it was. - I believe it's published in this issue. Read and ponder it. He ended with his own traditional peroration, slightly but poignantly altered, perhaps ex tempore: "And now, men of Dartmouth, - as I have always said before on this occasion - but I say it now for the last time as members of the College . . . you are citizens of a community ... you are the stuff of an institution . . . your business here is learning.... We'll be with you for a while. Good luck!" He turned to his chair and sat. Applause vehement and prolonged, from a standing audience, Mr. Dickey half rising acknowledged with a wave and a tense-faced nod. The applause, more fervent, continued. Mr. Dickey stood, rubbed his eyes - it could have been the heat and glare of the overhead lights - and strode forward solemnly as if to speak. His raised hand brought silence. "The Convocation will close with our singing 'Men of Dartmouth'."...We sang. Mr. Dickey's last Convocation was over. I remember his first, in Webster Hall on a fall morning in 1946. Not the theme of his address, but to be Mr. Hopkins' successor, his looking so young. I recall speaking to him afterward encouragingly.

Other September signs include droves of freshmen arriving in cars loaded with luggage and parents. We railroad-traveling Eighteeners brought mountains of trunks - remember them stacked in front of our dorms? - but none of our families hovered over us. Reminds me: one young father I happen to know told me with chuckles of his fun taking part in "the comedy," as he put it, "of roommates' parents jockeying for position- beds, desks, or whatever. It was about as casual," he said, "as the start of an America's Cup Race."

'Seventy-three wore the modern counterparts of our freshman beanies for a week, maybe. But with no sophomore insistence on the uniform, they soon discarded it, and now, as variously and as informally garbed as bareheaded upperclassmen, they lack that particular aid to identifying their own classmates. But PS and NB: their Greenbook is already out! Under a new name - "Freshman Book," I think but it carries their individual photographs with vital data alongside each and will surely serve well its who's who purpose. Has any Eighteener a copy of ours? Not I. It didn't appear until late spring of our freshman year, I recall, and the photographs it carried were many of them so bad and dim as to be literally unrecognizable. Who took them? Who made the cuts? Who edited, published, our book? I can't answer, because I, quite out of character, got stubborn and woudn't buy the thing. Did anyone? Eighteen's archives should have a copy. Who'll contribute it?

Which reminds me: my reminiscing in last June's column about our victory over 'Seventeen in the picture contest prompted Bingham to give us his print of that historic item and evoked from BUI Mongomery a letter I must share with you: "Dear Ed, Your notes in the June ALUMNI MAGAZINE ask several questions concerning Eighteen's successful quest for a class picture against the infuriated opposition of the dogs of Seventeen. Yes, I have the picture, and on its back is stamped 'Copyright by Albert B. Street.' And yes, Penn Carolan planned the strategy. And again yes, all of us wore neckties, so help me. There was an important prelude to the taking of the photograph that made it possible. Part of 'little Napoleon' Cardan's strategy was to send out a decoy party over another route from the one planned for the whole Class. Penn called for volunteers. I have written on the back of my copy of the 'Raspberry to 1917' picture the following statement immediately after the picture was distributed in the spring of 'l5: 'Decoy party: Aishton, Butts,Dockstader, Johnson brothers A! and Homer, Lehman, Merrell, Dick Sisk, Wool-worth, and myself. Left 2 a.m. from White River to Lebanon, and then on Leb road back to Hanover, spreading out in woods at dawn - foot of Balch Hill - making terrific noise at a given time to attract sophomore class, which came en masse to rout us out, while the main body of our class came up road from White River, where they had congregated the previous night, and had assembled for picture on other side of town without any opposition from sophs. Signed, Bill Montgomery." Bill adds, "I'm glad to get that story off my chest. We all hate to brag, but I think the ten of us who volunteered in answer to Penn's call played an important part in carrying out his truly Napoleonic strategy. Sweet revenge it was after they had kidnapped our Class President Dick Wilson as part of their effort to defeat us.

That Picture Fight was a fun battle zestfully enjoyed by all on both sides. But last August no joke, all for tragic real, was Nature's devastating fury as along the Florida coast it struck down the homes of many, including that of our own Bill and ErnestineWoleben. Of it Bill writes: " 'Camille' paid us a visit and wiped out our home and our possessions. There is nothing left on our lot except the remains of the chimney and fireplace. The house was broken into sections of roof, sidings, and floors that lay in helter-skelter piles a block from the beach. Part of the roof was further on, and pieces of furniture were scattered over an area 300 by 200 feet. During the hurricane we had stayed a mile from the beach in the hallway of a schoolhouse, sitting on kindergarten chairs all night. We came out of it with our car and the clothes we had on. Thank the Lord He had put it in our hearts to leave our home. My address is now once more as printed in the 1918 Directory: Box 506, Gulfport, Miss. 39501." What an experience, Bill! We share your thankfulness that you and Ernestine survived. In the current "Saturday Review," 4 October, p. 67, John Lear says, "The intensity of her (Camille's) punch was the fiercest of any storm that ever hit the North American continent." And accompanying his article an aerial photograph entitled "What hurricane 'Camille' did..." gives us a shuddering realization of what the Wolebens went through.

We cannot leave off without sorrowful mention of Paul Erwin's bereavement last March, when his wife Mary succumbed to the cancer that for six years had afflicted her. To Paul and his four sons on behalf of 'Eighteen we proffer sympathy.

Secretary, Elm St., Norwich, Vt. 05055

Treasurer, 45 Rip Rd., Hanover, N.H. 03755