1932

"Not all masterpieces hang on the wall," observed Harold Sack. The doyen of dealers in American anitiques should know. At a Christie's auction Harold had just purchased a carved eighteenth century desk for a young client who is "starting a superior collection" of American furniture. The price the highest ever paid at an auction for something other than a painting-$12.1 million. The desk, or secretary (because it's topped with a small bookcase), had been owned by only one family, that of Nicholas Brown, after whom Brown University was named.

It was your typical pasteboard of those days: 2" x 4 1/2" and dated November 18, 1933. "That was the year you graduated, wasn't it, Grampy?" said Granddaughter Sarah excitedly when I opened my Christmas gift. The color had faded from its pristine red to dusty pink. The ticket would have admitted me to a Cornell game on Memorial Field at a cost of $3.30. Sarah's mother, who knows antiques, says that an unused football ticket might indeed be offered at an exhibition or flea market among other "ephemera." In such unique ways does tempus fugit.

Speaking of memories, Whip Walser recalled a few during a preprandial swim at Spaulding Inn after our nifty fifty-fifth. While John Zimmerman and I splashed around idly, Whip and Bob Ackerberg reminisced about water polo days at Dartmouth. Seems to me Jim Moore figured in there. Suddenly Whip came up with "Remember my famous hold?" and got a halfnelson on the newsletter guy that looked really formidable. JOZ and I, suddenly remembering that our wives were waiting to be taken to lunch, were dressed in seconds and back at the lodge.

I neglected to report that Whip had a cataract operation last spring. In April he wrote, "I'm still a bit wobbly ... but surely my eyes will cooperate and give me the same depth perception soon. The operation is nothing, but convalescing is a horse of a different color." You'll see Whip at our mini, scheduled, as always, to include Dartmouth Night. We'll hope to see many of you that weekend. Grey Freeman promises that we won't all have to march in the parade with those hardies Drew and Allen.

Box 286, Grantham, NH 03753