1934

Frank Heath, who "retired" from the class presidency into that most active and demanding class job of head agent, has announced a number of appointments. Bob Thompson will succeed Dick Houck in chairing the special gifts committee. Happily, Dick will continue to assist. Moe Frankel will serve as head of participation, a new position designed to increase the percentage of givers. Bill Daniells will succeed Hank Werner in chairing the memorial gifts committee.

Four '34s had lunch in New York the other day. One was Bill Scherman, whose own prolific outpourings seldom contain anything about himself. Bill, following 16 years as vice president for promotion at Newsweek, is now semi-retired. What this seems to mean is that Bill is cramming as much work into three days as he used to into five. In case you haven't recently checked the masthead of the publication you're now reading, Bill is a member of its advisory board. In addition, he is public relations advisor to the College in areas related to the Campaign for Dartmouth, and the responsibilities in that department have to be discharged during either his three days on or his four days off. So not as much time as hoped for has yet come free for weeding the garden, practicing the piano, or taking bird hikes with Gerry through the Bernardsville woodland.

At Bill's left at lunch was the writer of these efforts, who is another one of those semi-retired fellows. I still function as account management consultant to Kenyon and Eckhardt Advertising, but I discharge a good part of that responsibility from an office at home because of less-than-robust health. I have that unpleasant condition called emphysema, which involves the constant presence of oxygen equipment and the careful allocation of energy, because there's a lot less of it to go around than there used to be. Joy keeps exceptionally busy conducting a real estate business and helping me cope with this private energy crisis.

Next around the table was Hank Werner, still an active practicing attorney. Basically city residents, the Werners spend their out-of-town time in Elburon, N.J., where Liz maintains a stable of claiming horses. Hank and Liz were scheduled to fly to California the next day to visit their two sons.

Completing the luncheon quartet was RayHulsart, who retired last year after 24 years with the New York Times, where he was director of personnel and labor relations as well as secretary of the corporation; he also chaired the Publishers Association of New York City. Ray and Shirley divide their living time between a New York apartment (Shirley conducts a travel agency business in the city) and a country home in South Kent, Conn., near Lake Waramaug.

There will never again be a time as appropriate as now, with Al Kahn's untimely death so recently behind us, to tell a story about two unusual happenings of late 1935 and early 1936, when the world was young and this column was prepared by the same individual as now addresses you. Harry Wheelock, the other protagonist in this two-act drama, died in 1947.

In November 1935, a South Bend, Ind., newspaper clipping headlined, "News-Times Reporter Shot By Gangsters . . . Harry Wheelock Wounded In Delmar Raid," arrived in my mail and was duly reprinted in the class notes. The story detailed a police raid on a gangster hangout in South Bend led by deputized cub reporter Wheelock, who had been playing an important role in cleaning up the local mob and in solving murders. "The gangsters had apparently been tipped off," the story stated, "and the moment the party entered the cafe, Wheelock was shot down." There were two conclusions: first, that although Wheelock's wound was not serious it would be several days before he could leave his bed, and second, Harry's statement that "I shall not relax in my efforts against the insidious activities until the last one of them has been brought to justice." "Good going, Harry," we admiringly editorialized.

Then in February 1936 (only three months later), a Chicago news story headlined, "Poet Saves Girl From Wild Horse," told how a five-year-old girl had been rescued "from the path of a plunging horse by Albert E. Kahn, former Dartmouth track star, as thousands of holiday shoppers in the Loop district looked on. The horse became frightened by the bell and red costume of a Salvation Army Santa Claus," the story said, and at the same time the young girl "became separated from her mother and tottled (sic) out into the street. Kahn ... grabbed her by the shoulders and carried her to safety just as the plunging horse and wagon went by. The shaft of the wagon tore a large hole in Kahn's coat but neither he nor the child was injured." This account of modern heroics was printed with "due congratulations and the hearty compliments of this column."

Now weren't those a pair of perfectly wonderful happenings for a young class secretary to be able to report in his column? Of course they were.. The trouble is that there wasn't a grain of truth to either one. I was let in on the secret about 20 years later by a not-so-innocent third party. They were two large legpulls, first by Kahn on Wheelock, then by Wheelock on Kahn, with yours truly serving obligingly as the pink-cheeked, ingenuous middleboy. Could it happen again? Well, the big cons say that the best marks are the ones who've been had already.

Greetings of the season, don't believe everything the mail carrier brings you, and keep your horses a safe distance away from the Salvation Army.

100 Summit Place Pleasantville, N.Y. 10570