1939

Since this issue has a nostalgic theme, it seemed appropriate for this columnist to follow suit. I shall rely on subjective vignettes that touch the dainty fabric of what I laughingly call my memory.

My first recollection in Hanover was meeting Bobby Alpert, who introduced himself and declared that he was a candidate for president of the freshman class. Not a bad political move as name identification amongst classmates at that time was non-existent. However Bobby had to settle for class treasurer, as the late Walt Magee earned the top spot primarily because of his prowess on the freshman football team. I believe it was Bill Cunningham of the Boston press who likened Walt to the great Al Marsters and predicted a great gridiron future.

I spent my freshman and sophomore years rooming with the late Jim Mathes, two flying squirrels, one ringtail monkey, a marmoset, and a pregnant skunk who gave birth to six little ones in 405 Lord Hall. Mercifully this menagerie was not all present at the same time, but, taken separately, they enlivened campus life. I recall that in trying to give the squirrels their freedom we found they had grown too fond of us. They crawled up the nearby elm to glide down to our open window and reenter our domain. One squirrel became somewhat disoriented and entered Bud Clifford's room and bed creating something of a stir in the opposite end of Hitchcock's first floor corridor.

I also remember fondly a race from the law Spud Bray in company with your current prexy, Bert MacMannis. I suppose we'd had a few too many beers or something of that nature, and had committed some indiscretion that presently slips my mind. We sensed the hot breath of the law, and huddled under the Memorial field stands. Bert recommended that we pull off our T-shirts and put them on backwards. This way, he said, Spud would not recognize us. Even at the time, it didn't make much sense to me.

I remember vividly the hurricane in the fall of our senior year. I walked the campus in company with President Hopkins and some other members of Palaeop. We were observing how the storm had ripped out the stately elms on the west side of the campus and dropped them at the door of the row of buildings from College Hall to Crosby. Hoppy lamented, "If it only could have been the buildings. Those we could replace."

That fall was notable also for the momentary return of Harry Gates to the football field for the Yale game, as recounted by Harry in his recently published book, More than aProphet. I recall the preparatory scrimmages for Yale, those few days that Harry had to reacquaint himself with the game. I can personally advise that he had lost very little in his absence, for often enough I was the tackle that he was charged with blocking, and it hurt.

Richard S. Jackson, 777 West Street, Pittsfield, MA 01201-5726

We sensed the hot breath of the law and huddled under the Memorial Field stands. Dick Jackson '39