1952

My, how quickly the time goes by when you are having fun or when you don't have any material for this column. In my case, the latter is the reason for the fast passage of time. Add to this the fact that I am trying to scoot out of town before this column's deadline to go on vacation, and you get the picture.

I just learned from an unimpeachable, source that Charlie Clough has recently been named one of the five movers and doers of Nashua, N.H., along with the head of the Sanders Corporation, the mayor, and two other notables of that fair city. Charlie was recognized for his contribution in resuscitating the Nashua Corporation which, as you can imagine, meant a great deal to the city of Nashua. I tried to confirm this with him by phone, but I'll have to wait until he returns from Eleuthera (if you have a plant down there, Charlie, you are smarter than I thought).

Burt Flounders is another outstanding member of our class's advertising fraternity. After nine years with McCaffrey, McCall, he handles Pfizer's Leeming Pacquin Division. His and Jane's primary extracurricular activities are their children. Betsy is a sophomore at the University of New Hampshire; Mary is pursuing her interest in Asian studies as a freshman at Dartmouth; and Anne is a sophomore in high school in Stamford, Conn., where the Flounderses live.

Burt made my day today when he returned my phone call. We laughed about an episode that took place eight years after graduation. One evening when he and Jane were walking along Third Avenue near 73rd Street (you know the city), they peered through a storefront restaurant window and saw the late Sam Harned and me sitting at a table. I was on a trip in New York and had literally bumped into Sam that morning. He was racing through the rain, head down, around the corner of the then Park Sheraton Hotel on his way to his office from the subway. His umbrella was at full dress, and it clipped me as I stood in front of the hotel waiting for a cab. As Sam apologized, our eyes met, and it was one of these, "Oh for God's sake" encounters. He asked what I was doing that evening. I had no plans, so he said he would drop by the hotel to pick me up for dinner.

We rendezvoused at the Park Sheraton bar. Sam had had such an interesting career. In college he had been in just about every play! He and Buck Henry (remember him?) had been very prolifjc writers of comedy. Sam had wanted to pursue a career in theater after graduation. He had attended the Lee Strasburg School with Marilyn Monroe. When the theater did not pan out, he applied his great creative talents to advertising.

Sam's and my involvement in college was in French class. We sat next to each other. With a French name, I gained a certain popularity among those who either had difficulty with the language or thought it might be a gut course. Sam was among the former. As a result, while our paths did not cross very frequently apart from French 4, we nevertheless developed a great friendship.

When we met at the Park Sheraton bar there, we had a lot to catch up on. The conversation extended over several martinis, after which Sam suggested we should probably have dinner. He knew a steak house on Third Avenue near 73rd. At the steak house we ordered another round of martinis. (At this juncture I thought we might wind up as the prototypes of a couple of characters in a John Cheever short story.)

It was then that Burt and Jane came by the window. We waved, and they came in and sat down. We had another round of drinks. They didn't want to join us for a steak dinner; they were going next door to Richard May's King Dragon. Why not join them? Great idea!

At the King Dragon we started with cocktails. Sam and I had started the evening somewhat earlier than Burt and Jane had. I am quite certain that by the time the meals were served we could not properly appreciate the nuances of the oriental cuisine.

The story ends, as I recall it now Without the benefit of Burt's assistance, when we encountered some frierids of friends who invited us for a nightcap. Sam and I went (did you and Jane go with us, Burt?). My last recollection was turning rather green and fumbling my way back to the hotel.

It was one of those experiences which lie dormant, waiting to be triggered. It was Burt who was the trigger and who conjured up a fond memory of Sam. (It also reminded me of the resilience of youth that enabled us to survive the day after.)

So far, it hasn't been much of a spring in the Midwest. Perhaps when I get back from St. Lucia, the April showers will have blown over and the crocuses and daffodils will be in bloom. Have a great summer.

222 East Chestnut Chicago, IL 60611