1948

Around Hanover, during the years I grew up there, both before and during those marvelous years at Dartmouth, it always seemed to me that February was the coldest month. Here in Houston as February is about to begin, Hanover seems a long distance away in terms of miles, but even further as one mentally compares the brown lawns and cold cement of the suburb around us to the whipping wind and cold, moving snow that by now certainly have Hanover in their grip. Too, Hanover in February, as we '48s knew it in our days as undergrad and graduate students at Dartmouth, seems a long way back in time and space.

I can well remember that as February came on, those of us who had had the good fortune to do a fair amount of skiing were beginning to feel pretty strong and tough, beginning to feel that frosty old Mr. North Wind could rant and rave and tear at us with all the ferocity within him while we were riding the J-bar at Oak, or sidestepping up Balch, or running cross-country around the golf course, or dropping down Cemetery in back of Norwich, or going further afield to Suicide 6, to Pico, to Ascutney, or to Stowe, Cannon, Bromley, Mad River, Eastern Slopes, or to Moosilauke's climb, wherever, but he just couldn't shut off the joy we all felt in being alive and able to handle his rugged outdoors.

And everything that went with that winter life then: The planning of the trip, whether for an afternoon or a weekend. Someone says, "Let's hit Pico this afternoon! I've got transportation!" as you walk out of your last morning class in 105 Dartmouth just after noon. "Great. Meet you in the parking lot behind Woodward about 12:45. Mac and Dick and Walt want to come too. Sure, we'll make room." The jokes and laughter on the road toward Rutland. An afternoon of fantastic skiing in the good new powder on the mountain at a temperature around 15° F. "Fast. Try it. Watch the ice below that bump. Watta spill! You OK? Straight off that huge bump? Naw, it's not 75 feet! Watch out for that lady! Wow, close!"

The tremendous feeling of exhilaration by the time the lift closes down when the light is getting bad and the grey, lowering sky shows that more snow is on the way. The run on old Route 4 back through Bridgewater to Woodstock. The wonderful old bar in the Woodstock Inn, never to be forgotten by generations of Dartmouth men, where you always found a gang who had been skiing at Bunny Bertram's well-named "6." Good beer. Laughter. Song. Conviviality of the highest order. Sometimes even that unexpected chance to meet the girl who would turn out to be your Carnival date. ("I'd had a few when I met her. Was absolutely sure she'd be a Carnival queen until I saw her step off the train at Whitetown a couple of weeks later.") Riotous dinner in the grill at the Inn with the gang from the bar, or the run into White River for a sandwich at Howard Johnson's, or all the way back to Hanover for one of Lou's delicious concoctions, or for something at the Indian Hole, the Streamliner, or at Hap & Hal's. Then, perhaps just a bit reluctantly at unwinding, back to the dorm for a few hours of work there or over at Baker for tomorrow's classes. Sometimes falling asleep in those big chairs in the marvelous atmosphere of the Tower Room where it was so easy to dream. Even at that, however, you always saved enough time during the evening to look at your edges and slap a coat of Faski (Bill Mackey '49 reminded me of this), the green lacquer, on the underside of the boards so they'd be ready for the next trip to the slopes - which might even be the next day.

I'll be more than pleased if the foregoing pleasurably awakens a few, long dormant, old memories among the Dartmouth men of '48 and other classes with us who took advantage of the North Country's assets when, as the Winter Song so clearly notes, "the snow lay deep along the roadway" and "the Great White Cold walks abroad." Hope the memory lingers.

Dr. Bill Pace, who has recently appeared in these columns due to having been made a Trustee of the Dartmouth Medical School and for having suffered a horrible leg fracture while trying to get into his car in the garage one morning in time for his eight o'clock class after what must have been a tough night, has pioneered a great new surgical procedure at Ohio State. Bill led in the development of a method of losing weight wherein, per the technical explanation in the daily paper, the stomach's capacity to hold food is considerably reduced through tacking a double row of stainless steel staples through the upper part of the stomach. Some of the staples are removed after the organ has healed, to permit a limited amount of food to pass. Bill and his associates hold that no one should undertake the rigorous treatment unless he's at least 100 pounds overweight and has unsuccessfully tried every other remedy. Cost: about $3,000, including six days in the hospital. Congratulations, Bill.

It is this writer's opinion that the successful football season experienced this past fall by Coach Joe Yukica's surprise gridiron team has done much to renew the attention of Dartmouth alumni all over the world. Case in point: The Dartmouth Club of Houston recently held a dinner here in which the number of alumni, wives, and friends who turned out to meet Joe greatly strained the capacity of the premises. It was a quite unexpectedly enthusiastic response to Joe's visit during which he showed action movies of his team's season and answered many questions on current life and activities in Hanover. Was a certain amount of pride a factor in this? I don't know, but I would bet that the five-year Campaign for Dartmouth will benefit from any continued success which Joe's teams may have. (Maybe they'll beat Harvard this coming year, the first time after five straight losses, as the next step following a tough act this past season.)

At the event. Bob Douglas, lan Macartney, and the writer had dinner together with wives and the coach, the first time I know of that so many '48s have, been together in one place in Texas.

Missing were Ed Conconnon and wife Kathie who are expected shortly to complete their transfer to Houston, Ed as Young & Rubicam representative to handle advertising relations with Gulf Oil, reporting back and coordinating with John Hatheway in the home office in NYC.

Enjoy the winter, but even if you hate it, please send me some news.

10214 del Monte Dr. Houston, Tex. 77042