1923

Because of space limitations the formal obituaries of our classmates can seldom provide more than the basic record of their lives, honors, and accomplishments. During the past few days word has come to me almost simultaneously of the death of four of our men. As I prepare their obituaries I recall events in the lives of each of them, over and above the bare statistics, which seem worth sharing with you. I do this with full awareness that there have been many others equally deserving. I wish I could have done the same for them all.

With some slight concession to the years, Joe Millar seemed the same to me a year ago as he did in undergraduate days sandy haired, same weight, calm, clear-thinking, a leader whose college career was climaxed by his election to the life-time job of class marshal. The main difference was that in later years he bravely endured a series of pacemakers with their accompanying uncertainties. After graduation he studied medicine for a year, then switched to the University of Pennsylvania School of Veterinary Medicine. After completing his training with honors, he joined his father in the practice of veterinary medicine and became an outstanding leader in the profession. He would have been equally successful in either field of medicine.

Roger Billings was an unassuming man both as an undergraduate and in business; but for nearly 40 years his was the guiding hand behind the growth and success of an important insurance company. Although he had his share of heartaches and spent his last years in a wheelchair or bedridden, he never lost his faith or his sense of humor. Generous to a fault with his family and friends, he was always a loyal supporter of our class and the College.

In 1929, Jack Booth wrote that Jim Hennessy had wound up his house officer job at St. Vincent's Hospital by getting diptheria. He recovered from this, but shortly afterward both Jim and Jack were told it would be a good idea if they took a vacation for a year or so. Having been roommates for four years in medical school, they decided to cure T.B. together and landed in Trudeau Sanatorium on almost the same day. Neither of them was badly hit, so they were not strictly bed patients. Jim was released in four months and Jack followed him two months later. This unhappy experience undoubtedly determined Jim's life-long involvement in the treatment of tuberculosis and other pulmonary problems.

Most of us know of Jim's long service on the hospital Good Ship Hope and at the Albert Schweitzer Hospital in Haiti. It was my good fortune to have also had first-hand professional recall of his fine work from two nearby semiretired surgeon friends who worked with him - Dr. Francis Woods and Dr. Frank Lepreau '34.

Jim's life was that of a dedicated and compassionate physician willing to interrupt an established and prosperous practice to spend many months in remote and unfamiliar places helping those who needed help so badly.

Glen Elliott prepared himself well for his chosen field by taking graduate courses at Lowell Textile School. He then went to work for Pacific Mills, a textile manufacturing firm in Lowell. Here he lost his left arm in an industrial accident. He remained with this company however until it closed in 1932. Out of a job and handicapped at the bottom of the Depression years, he started over again with another company and ended up presiding over and controlling the large and prosperous Rhode Island Textile Company.

Fifty years ago this coming summer we spent a few evenings at bridge with Glen and his wife. It is not easy to do justice to this game with one arm. Glen did it courageously and successfully, as he did so many other difficult things in later life.

The still North remembers them,The hill-winds know their name;And the granite of New HampshireKeeps the record of their fame.

Box 2 Francestown, N.H. 03043