1931

I'm writing this epistle in a room at the Hanover Inn (up under the roof, in the old part, with the wild plumbing). This is Class Officers weekend but I'm behind in my work, so am taking time off from this afternoon's meetings.

A large and complimentary article appeared recently in the Boston Sunday Globe about BobTonis, complete with pictures. Entitled "Harvard's Uncommon Cop," it refers to Bob as "violinist, student, beekeeper, ex-FBI agent and head of the University police." He finds life in the yard very satisfying. He's held the job since 1962 when he retired from the FBI after 27 years of service. In his eleven years at Harvard he has taken some 30 undergraduate courses in literature and the arts. The article says "He is perhaps the snappiest dresser in the Harvard administration, being given to fashionably loud tweed suits of contemporary cut, and jaunty wool caps. He seldom wears his official uniform." He retires in two years, having proved that he is "constitutionally incapable of being bored with life."

From Thornton C. Pray, '15 came a clipping about the Reverend Jim, McElroy, that is. The title reads "Seamen's Director Pulling Up Anchor." Jim has announced plans to retire as the institute director on October 1, with a 17-year backlog of stories about seamen and a miniature museum of nautical mementos. Jim's retirement comes at a time when the institute's board of directors is considering either getting out of the hotel business or moving closer to the waterfront to serve men from today's automated vessels that remain in port for shorter periods than older cargo ships. Times change.

In the Maine Times recently there was a feature story about Spence Miller speaking at a hearing in an oil moratorium bill. The newspaper rather took Spence to task for his opposition to this bill. However, if you were the president of the Maine Central Railroad and someone wanted to build a big refinery in Eastport, Me., what would you do? Spence wants to keep his cars full and his trains running.

We went to Concord, Mass., at the instigation of Ernie Moore, to attend the Patriots' Day Ball on April 18. It was a mammoth ball, over 2,000 present, and Ernie was chairman of the whole shebang. He did a beautiful job despite some bloody nose trouble which was the result of overblowing his nose, or something. It didn't deter him from doing his job, but he couldn't dance and he couldn't drink, which gives you some idea of the sacrifices he underwent. Next day we watched the parade of Minute Men units from all over New England, as far away as New York state; over 20 units complete with fife and drum corps. This Concord crowd is planning for 1975 and 1976 when they expect millions of people to be on hand. Our Ernie is chairman of the transportation committee. Some guy, Ernie.

Beany Thorn must have received air eviction notice, for he has been rummaging through his old historical artifacts, particularly sanpshots, which he forwards to me and asks me to identify the callow youths in the pictures. I never knew anyone so young and underdeveloped as that bunch. Beany comments, "Did you ever keep a diary in college? Got one of mine out the other day - most interesting. Will have to destroy part of it, I fear." Beany, show it to Eleanor. If she can't take it now, she'll never be able to take it.

Beany also advised that Eddie Pastore is now Associate National Director of Boys Clubs of America, which is almost as high as you can go. He spends a lot of time traveling, lecturing, etc.

From Beany also came a postcard from John and Barbara Feltner, as follows: "Have you ever visited old Dartmouth (England)? Rather a spectacular setting - an attractive town with good inns. After Oxford we have shed our work and are touring, slowly, stopping for a day or two here and there - New Forest, Devon, Dorset, Kent. Had to revisit my war hospital site on the south coast, outside of Southampton, 1942. No air fights overhead now-a-days ..."

I am personally relieved to see that Sher Guernsey is back from Florida in time to spray those apples in Schoharie. I'd like to see one of those apples someday. All I know about Sher's apples is strictly second- and third-hand.

I like to think I am broad-minded and forward-looking, but I still get a funny feeling when I see the Dartmouth girls skipping about the campus on their way to class or whatever. These are not exchange students, men. These are the Real McCoy.

23 Coughlin Road North Easton, Mass.

Class Agent, 2705 East Newberry Blvd. Milwaukee, Wis. 53211