1929

We've heard from too few '29ers lately, but the quality makes up for the number. Bill and Polly Magenau write about a former landlord who was involved in the settlement of the estate of a descendant of Eleazar Wheelock, one item of which was Eleazar's will, which was purchased by the College. They write, "It was our good fortune to come into ownership of two portraits from the estate, one of Bezaleel Woodward, Yale graduate, and professor and vice president at Dartmouth, and assistant to Eleazar, and one of his wife, who was Eleazar's daughter. These portraits were on display at Baker Library during our Bicentennial.

"We took the portraits to the Connecticut Historical Society to establish the identity of the painter. Mrs. Woodward, almost surely, was done by Joseph Stewart, class of 1780. Many of his works are unsigned, but it is certain he did large portraits of Eleazar and John Phillips now owned by the College."

While he was in Hartford, Conn., Bill talked with Mai Mather, who missed our 55th because he had to be in Port Clyde, Maine, at the time. He promises to look us up on his next trip to Cape Cod.

A 1 Downing is enjoying my old class list with addresses and phone numbers. Anybody want the next one?

John Thompson is confined to Hilton Head Island as cook, cleaning person, chauffeur, and barber, but most of all caregiver for his wife, who suffers from Alzheimer's disease. We sadly miss Archie Crowley from our Cape meetings as he tends to his Jeannie, who has the same affliction.

Karl Michael's obituary, in this issue, lists only a few of his achievements. He trained and swam with the first three women to swim the Hellespont. I can still see him leading a beautifully drilled and spine-tingling glee club. He was surely one of our finest.

Ran into Sue Hubbard in February while she was staying at the Inn, while Jack was having operations at Mary Hitchcock that give hope of restoring much of his health.

Among the finest words we've had from a classmate is a small book entitled On Mountain Tops, in which Ed Abbott of Big Bear, Calif., has preserved many of the poems and fine thoughts of his lifetime. After reading a prose poem about his Shadow Ranch in the San Bernadino mountains, I'd feel instantly at home if I should land there.

Here's a sample: "The vast panorama of the mysterious Mojave, the restless whispering of the pines, the clean and shiny appearance of every stone and bit of foliage, the rocky formations that stand at the head of the canyon like ancient Druid altars, the luminous clumps of moss, the vault of blue sky with its ever-changing cloud shapes all these beguile the visitor with a feeling that he is in an unravished remnant of the cont inent, a magic and timeless land, and a place forgotten by sorrow and pain."

How lucky are we who keep too busy. I'm just back from a Los Angeles meeting of the John Brown Cook Foundation and meetings with some wonderfully mature students of the Claremont colleges. Don't let the froth from college newspapers destroy your faith in today's students. They race ahead of us, but they don't overlook past values any more than we did.

We can still fight back at some of today's distortions. I'd probably be sued for libel Were I to put my thoughts in words Of those who unisex the Bible And write things equally absurd. Their sad attempts have obviously sprung From lack of knowledge of their mother tongue.

Box 246, Emmons Road Monument Beach, MA 02553