1921

Thanks to the persuasiveness of President Harry and the class executive committee, your newly nominated class secretary, somewhat fearfully and with his fingers crossed, said "yes." A most difficult aspect is the realization that he is stepping into the shoes, as it were, of his predecessor. Jack Hurd - shoes which no one could possibly fill completely. So, here I am at my typewriter, and all I can say is, "I'll do my best, knowing full well I will have the help of every member of the Class."

It will be a shock to most of you and a real sense of personal loss to all to learn of Jack's quite sudden, if not totally unexpected, death in mid-April. Suitable and much more detailed comment will be forthcoming, probably from Dan Ruggles.

Since I came into office only a few days ago, just before the deadline date for this month's class news column, my notes will be particularly thin and brief.

The Class Officers Weekend gathering in Hanover provided a most remarkable insight into the devotion and loyal enthusiasm of the great body of people representing the entire alumni of Dartmouth College. The Class of 1921 was represented by President Harry, Vice President Bob Burroughs and Martha, Secretary Charlie Gilson, Treasurer NelsonSmith and Terry, Head Agent Don Sawyer and Alice, Bequest Chairman Tom Cleveland and Betty, Bob Loeb, and Ort Hicks. The class executive committee met on Friday afternoon and covered much ground, many details of which will be channeled out to you all in due course.

Evelyn Hurd gave me what seems to be Jack's "pending file," with some notes and a few letters from classmates. In it I find letters from both Andy and Harriet Valentine, from Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island. I guess they had quite a time during the "Blizzard of '78." Of course they survived it, aided by a generator, a Franklin stove, a camp lantern, a Coleman stove, and a stacked woodpile. Over the past year they have had some health concerns but are now in good shape and enthusiastically looking forward to the fulfillment of a life-long ambition with a trip to England in June.

Here is a reprint of a note I found in Jack's file. He wrote, "Tom Griffith is a super ichthyologist and may even be called ichthyophagous. For 25 years he and Olga have showed up at the Lakeside Inn, Mt. Dora, Fla., with appropriate hooks, nets, reels, and bait. From January to Easter he outwits all the various kinds of fish; then the Griffiths fly north to see what Vermont lakes have to offer."

And from another of Jack's notes: "SamPlumb lives only a block away from his daughter, son-in-law, and two grandchildren, a boy 10 and a girl 8. The town is Streator, III., a town of 20,000 population, plenty large enough for Sam. Music is deeply embedded in his soul, and he listens happily to the Boston Symphony and Arthur Fiedler, and even more happily to Tom in his second year at the piano and Anne just beginning. They have apparently inherited the Plumb musical gifts. So all is well in Streator, where Sam has lived all his life and loves every nook and cranny, and where everyone loves him."

Dudley Robinson wrote from Naples, Fla., that he has been in and out of the hospital 12 times in the last two and a half years for a cataract lens implant, which was successful. Even though recovery seems slow, Dud sounds optimistic, and he continues his membership in the Naples Yacht Club.

That just about wraps it up for this month. We'll be with you - God willing - come fall, on the assumption that every one of you who reads this will accept an appointment as special reporter, not only concerning yourself, but also any of the other classmates of whom you may have some news. Please don't ever fall victim to that old adage, "No news is good news," because 'taint so, and it just might be anything but.

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