1950

For the first time in more than a decade a year had passed since we last visited the North Country. We had missed her and her unique seasons and moods. Our return trip in late October was superb. Skies were crystal clear; visibility, unlimited. The brilliant hues of the foliage season were gone, but the burnt oranges, russets, and reds remained, starkly outlined by the grey of trees with fallen leaves or the rich green of the pines. We sought back-country roads for fresh scenes to marvel at.

As the sun sank in a golden sky, our concern grew as we computed the time to run the remaining miles. The campus was our objective; time was running short.

Dartmouth Night, an emotional high. It stays the same as much as it changes. A lump caught in my throat on a damp October night in 1946, when we were first initiated into the rites and mysteries of the Dartmouth brotherhood. That night we were anticipating the chance to store away our beanies, if the team could manage to whip Harvard the next afternoon.

In contrast, only six or seven years ago the ceremonies were performed before a scant and silent crowd. Those days were sad, even as the bonfire kindled and roared to the sky. We searched for something cherished that was miss- ing, but the spark and spontaneity had gone. How amazing and delightful when they were rekindled in 1973. Through all those nights the lump remained.

Today Dartmouth Night is again all that it was. And more. A torchlight parade, now three years old and growing, sparks the night. Five bands (count them, five) intermingled with the long parade line. Undergraduate classes manned floats with ’7Bs winning the prize. Of- ficials, football captains, representatives from other autumnal sports, male and female, and the range of classes from ’O7 to ’76 slowly wended around the campus through pressing crowds of people from town, countryside, and College. EdGulick in his wheelchair led the ’sos, the touch of class.

The ceremonies change little: freshman shouting “’81,” telegrams from around the world, a word from the president, several more from the football captains, cheers, and drum beats from the band. One new item: the Glee Club singing “Dartmouth Undying,” stirring memories anew. A crowd of 10,000 spread from Dartmouth Hall, spilling across the road and over the campus. This year the bonfire, 81 tiers high, started without difficulty and quickly roared to the top to ignite the effigy of Cornell. And the lump still sticks in the throat.

The Outing Club was the scene of the pre- game picnic. The change in venue was inspiring with vistas of late autumn foliage across the golf course and around Occam Pond. Since rain fell throughout the morning, the large indoor room afforded us a chance to stay dry while we renewed old acquaintances and recalled days and games of yore.

The room was crowded with old faces and new. Dave Taylor retained the record for the longest trek, coming in from San Francisco. Bob and Kitty Waterman, after missing several years, came from lowa. Dick Dale left Georgia to return, and Dick Hollands forsook the balmy shores of Florida to brave the capricious turns of New England weather. For the first time Boband Liz Alcott crossed the Green Mountains for a mini-reunion.

But the real news was the new faces. DonWaite, who has moved from New Jersey to Ridgefield, Conn., returned for the first time since graduation with a friend, Jane. If he en- joyed himself as much as it seemed, he will be back again soon. Then a familiar face appeared: Jack and Janet Conners (his father and mine were members of the famous Class of T4) came up with Walter and Anne Lane. Jack and Walt last saw the campus at Thayer’s graduation ceremonies in ’5l.

Hanover is still a small New England college town. The fair in front of the Hop is new, but the band’s marching from the Inn corner to the stadium, stopping traffic in all directions as students and alumni fall in behind, is not. Ex- citement filled the air, as usual, and magic as we caught up and were swept forward to the strains of “Glory to Dartmouth.”

The game against Blackman and Cornell mounted in pressure as it progressed. Blackman’s offenses are still imaginative and daring.-In the last minute we agonized over a Cornell touchdown for a 17-13 score, a try for two extra points, an on-side kick that failed, a forced Dartmouth fumble, and two quick pass completions, the last on the 15-yard line, as the clock ran out. Blackman is excitement, and our hearts were in our mouths.

Cocktails and dinner at the Woodstock Coun- try Club ended the day. The count was 68, in- cluding several sons and daughters. At least ten others arrived later to talk or to dance to music by Tom Ruggles with Dick McSorley on the bass. Ted Remsen brought daughter Ellen, who had scored three goals that morning for the field hockey team. Gordie Nye had son Jim ’76 in tow. And Rog Hilias, another stranger for lo these many years, also turned up to join in the festivities.

The party was great, another super weekend in a growing tradition. Each year more classmates join in, but we missed a few. Come next year when the opponent is Yale. The Woodstock Inn is holding rooms in reserve for the Class: first come, first serve. It is not too early to plan. We shall be looking for you to help make our mini-reunion bigger and better.

Tidbits here and there: Bud Bray moved into the foothills of the San Francisco peninsula to Portola Valley. The board of Reader’s Digest appointed Bill Cross to the executive committee. From Bennington to East Lempster. N.H.: PeteHill. Why A 1 Cate left Boston for Barton, N.Y., is a mystery. The board of trustees of Lake Forest College elected Jim Vail to be one of its members. At least temporarily, John Wulp can,7 be found in New York rather than his favoredy Nantucket. Hugh Minor is in Coral Gables.

It is colder, and the days end early. A little snow may be falling. Christmas is nigh. So good cheer and good will. Enjoy the holiday and the season.

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