1978

Real World, Act I, Scene 8: It's May, it's May, the lusty month of May; it's time for all the '78s to start to go astray. I'll be humming this lyric as I return to my Camelot for Green Key. It's amazing how the nice weather lifts the spirits - even without the benefit of the Gold Coast. Without the warm weather, why would 22 fraternities and sororities march to the front of Dartmouth Hall (or Phi Delt) and sing Joan Baez songs? What could annually drive Sigma Kappa to steal a couch from Sigma Nu and set it on fire in the middle of Webster Avenue? In the real world, springtime pleasures are much more cerebral, like grilling out on your fire escape, giving the speakers a slight twist so that you can listen to tunes outdoors (meanwhile losing your security deposit), or heaving empty beer cans into your neighbor's shrubbery. Although the warm weather just means a changeover from all-wool suits (except for Charlie Wise, who can wear his double-knits year-round in Japan), it still has lifted my spirits, so I'll call this one, "A Temporary High."

Wait till the bed stops, take four aspirin, drink a quart of water, and move the trash can within striking distance.

Some heavy cerebral pleasure took place earlier in the spring as Dartmouth Rugby took on Mardis gras. Scotty Chronert sends word that the Dartmouth "All Green" side (consisting of players from '70-'78) drank and played their way to the top of a 64-team tourney (televised on ABC), which was sponsored by a Hammond, La., laundramat. Fortunately, the New Orleans police were on strike so that Mike Gallagher and big GeorgeMcDavid could "mum" their way into town for the tourney. This victory should build George's ego again, after he was replaced as the man who put Terre Haute, Ind., on the map by Larry Bird. Anyway, good job fellas, and I hope you taught Bourbon Street a few new songs.

Scotty is in b-school at UCLA, learning how to manage Southern California religious cults. His drinking buddy is Bill "Memo" Origel, and recently Steve Ferraris, who was out in fruit- and-nut-land on vacation. When these boys from the Wigs get together, one can't help but think about Mo Gibbs, who is now living with Big George in Waukegan, a town that sounds like one of Mo's belches.

Susan Gilmartin had her temporary high as the "Dartmouth Ivory Girl" for P&G in Boston. She lasted for about four months building Safeguard displays but couldn't stand the boredom of Boston so she moved back to her native Concord, N.H. Then she redeemed her coupon for an old high school honey, whom she married. Supposedly, Sue arranged the "biggest wedding bash Concord has ever seen on Thanksgiving Friday," primarily due to the leftover turkey which her parents graciously served at the reception. However, it was enough of a draw to entice classmates Cathy Colligan,Judy Osher, Anne Gunn, Mark Rape, and EdSnook (it doesn't take much to get Ed), to attend. Anyway, Susan is now working for her father in the landscaping business and remains within striking distance of Mother Dartmouth.

Elsewhere, Walter "Skullcrusher" Malmquist has been achieving some cerebral highs busting his already tattered brain against the basement wall at Phi Delt and at many ski jumps across Europe. As I'm sure he'd gladly tell you, Walter has been doing quite well this winter, having won several international Nordic-combined competitions. Keep up the good work, Walt.

You all remember Willard Bollenbach, don't you? Well, believe it or not, Bollie fell in love last Senior Week with a girl he met at the Talley House on her way up north from Florida. Bollie and his gal, Patricia Sloan, now reside in Nigeria, where he works. He sends good words about the civilized culture there, where beer costs $21 per case.

From the midst of a flashback of some sort, Tony Shuga has written me a short note, slightly reminiscent of page 174 from the L.A. Free Press. In its entirety, it reads: "Have purchased ten acres of prime North Florida grazing land and started a mushroom plantation with earnings from the Pensacola Journal. There is a sky in the pie. My wife Wunda (with a u) and I are having a gas with a ten-month-old tike named Joe. Kindly refrain from references to the Class of 2000 - it's an old joke. Have intense curiosity of the whereabouts of NeilMcCarthy." Well, Tony, thanks for the news.

Well, gang, its time to chip up another keg. You know what I mean, so don't make moves toward the back door. Right about now BillDevine and his crew of agents should be contacting you from thousands of phone booths across the land, asking for a donation to one of the few tax deductable causes you can legitimately give to at this point. I encourage you all to get involved in the fund-raising effort and donate what you can to the fine institution which is our common denominator.

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