1963

Even before my diatribe in last month's column, about the lack of personal communications from members of the class, was published, I was ready to take it all back. Pete Slavin sent me the kind of letter every secretary dreams of chock full of news, wit, and charm.

Pete himself had some intriguing tidings to relate. He was married last year to the former Susan B. Robertson, and the Slavins are now at home in Oakton, Va. "We live on the outskirts of Washington in a little A-frame on an acre of land surrounded by woods and fields," Pete reports. "We heat with wood a lot. Sue is an aficionado of wood-burning stoves and has in- stalled three, piping and all. Right now, she's got on her carpenter's hat and is repairing the roof of our shed. During the week she teaches Spanish. I have been working for the past year as a writer and editor for the American Public Welfare Association, having put free-lance writing behind me. With all this newfound respectability, no doubt my credit rating has soared."

Pete had also seen Denny Emerson when Denny and his wife May were in Washington last winter for the meeting of the U.S. Com- bined Equestrian Training Association. Pete reports that Denny was named leading rider in the New York/New England region, and Den- ny's horse York was the association's "Horse of the Year." And when called upon to say a few words at the closing banquet, Denny told York's story. It seems that when York arrived by plane from his native New Zealand in 1976, he was riddled with parasites, and Denny feared for a while that he would have to put him to sleep. But he put York to graze in his front yard in Strafford, Vt. (Denny's front yard is about an acre) and in time York began to regain his health on a diet of fresh grass and carrots. Den- ny also began to train him. In 1978 he entered York in competition for the first time, but York lost a shoe going cross-country, went lame, and had to spend the rest of the year recuperating. Finally, last year, healed and healthy, York came into his own. "This is a sport of troubles," Denny concluded, "but if you keep plugging, things can work out." (Especially if your horse is no plug.)

Denny had decided not to seek a place on the 1980 U.S. Olympic team as a rider even before the boycott became official, feeling that he couldn't afford the time away from his family and riding school. Pete asked him if that meant he would never compete in the Olympics. (Den- ny made the team in 1976, but didn't take part when his horse at the time, Victor Dakin, went lame at the last minute.) Denny told Pete he thought he might still have a chance. A member of the Polish equestrian team at the Montreal games in 1976, he noted, had been over 60.

Pete also passed on the information that Roger Parkinson had moved from his post as a vice president at the Washington Post to become publisher of the Buffalo Courier-Express. I'd also picked up news of Roger's switch from other sources, who reported that Roger was becoming something of a folk hero among the employees of his new newspaper. The Courier-Express had been a family-owned newspaper, and the members of the ruling family a stodgy and stingy lot who equated mediocrity with excellence by all accounts seldom ventured beyond the confines of their executive suites. Roger, who was brought in by the new owners (the Minneapolis Tribune), is seen everywhere in the building. He reportedly tells everyone from the top editors to the press room printers to "call me Roger." And they do.

In a late flash just in, we have learned that Pete Cornish has been named senior vice presi- dent of Young and Rubicam, the nation's largest advertising agency.

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