1940

A scan of the 13-year record compiled by BobMacMillan (1961-69) and Hugh Dryfoos (196974) as successive authors of this column confirms my initial apprehensions that the shoes I have to fill are large indeed. As I read, it occurred to me that it was entirely appropriate to translate the years of their columns into shoe size, as a graphic way to explain my feeling now of trying to stretch my size nine feet into size 13 boots.

Obviously, there's plenty of room to grow, but it will only happen with your help - in the form of news, comments, opinions, reflections from each and all of you who comprise that intangible but very real entity called Dartmouth '40.

Something of what I'm reaching for is captured in a touching letter to Hugh informing the Class through him of the death last July of PaulDickerman whose obituary appears in this issue. The letter was from his wife Margaret, and after describing the impact he had had as a newspaperman and adopted son of North Carolina, she wrote, "But what about the spirit of the man, his memories, his happiest thoughts of the past - those belonged to his beloved New England and to his Dartmouth."

She went on to describe how saddened he was because failing health prevented him from making Reunion, and, in his name, enjoined us next time "you fellow classmates come together 'to raise your glasses up on high.' I can think of no more pleasant a tribute to a guy who enjoyed doing that himself so many times around the bar in the cellar of old Zeta Psi - no sad songs, just a' rousing wah hoo wah for a guy whose career ended on quite a pinnacle."

So wherever you are and whatever you're doing, let us hear from you now and then, along with your thoughts on the passing parade that is "our time." For it is you, individually and together, who define the evolving personality of that unique bit of Dartmouth that is forever '40. Indeed, in a kind of special way, life keeps beginning at '40, whatever our ages may be.

A thread in the '40 fabric of derring-do has been woven by TWA captain Sid Harrington of Longmeadow, Mass. The story came out around the reunion wassail bowl. All those who were at the Harvard Stadium last fall as the Big Green won an upset thriller from the Crimson will remember the giant 747 jet that flew low over the stadium and saluted the crowd with a wiggle of its huge wings during the game. The man at the controls was Sid, who had had tickets for the game, but had been unable to get back in time because of a change in his flight schedule from Europe. Determined to "see" at least a moment of the game, he managed to persuade the control tower to let him approach Logan Airport in Boston via the Charles River. The "salute" was his cheer for the team. It's the same spirit that wins those ball games.

Another gleaning from Reunion recalls some of the drama of World War II. Fred Eaton, up from his duties as president of Sears in Venezuela, told how he had just learned that after 32 years a bush pilot had spotted the lost hull of his Flying Fortress. In 1942, he had crashed landed the plane in a New Guinea swamp after a successful bomb run and a running battle with 12 Japanese Zeros. He then led his crew of eight safely back through six weeks of what he then described as a "living hell on earth" bushwacking through the jungle. He hopes now that someday that he may be able to salvage some part of that old ship. In response to further questions he recounted that he later was assigned to flying bombers from Italy into Austria and Rumania. In one of those small-world coincidences,, it turned out one of his listeners, namely my Viennese wife Lili had been on the receiving end of bombs dropped on Vienna, and the rest of us just listened as they shared their contrasting views of that war. Behind their reminiscences was the fascinating irony that found the daughter of a recognized anti-Nazi, who survived Hitler's Anschluss by going underground, threatened by the bombs intended ultimately to liberate that tragically whipsawed land.

in one particular, our class can't match '30. which claims Vice President Rockefeller as its own, but in Creight Holden, president of the elegant St. Clair (Mich.) Inn and Country Club, it does have one the regular golfing partners of President Ford - at least up to the time he became the nation's chief executive. And. "veterans" of our 35th, remembering the flair with which Creight hosted our reunion parties, might detect his hand now in the gaiety of the parties which President Ford seems to have brought back to the White House.

One of the proudest dads at Commencement last June was Ted Ellsworth who drove in from Dubuque, lowa, to watch his son Rich graduated. He had the added pleasure of hearing the applause and cheers of Rich's classmates as that handsome "chip from the old block" stood behind the Old Pine podium in the Bema and give the 1974 Class History for the momentous years 1970-74. Incidentally, while Ted beamed like a Cheshire Cat, Rich gave his Dad full credit for properly alerting him early to the potential represented in Billings Lee House of happy memory.

Secretary, 4 Parkhurst Hall Hanover, N.H. 03755

Treasurer, 64 North Main St. Concord, N.H. 03301