1944

We've all been asked, for this special freshman-year issue, to think back to our freshman experience, and ours, of course, goes back two-score and thirteen. "I'll see if I can call it back from recollection's vaults," wrote Mark Twain in HuckleberryFinn.

Hardly a soul among us can help but recall the Dartmouth-Cornell fifth down that made sports history on that cold, snow-flurry day in mid-November 1940. Or beanies and Freshman Commons, or Wet Down and hooting and hollering at the Nugget. . .

Leonard Rieser remembers being surprised at the length of the first winter and the macho nature of the College; at being called "Mister" by professors in classes; and by the fact that financial-aid students were waiting on those in Commons who were not receiving assistance, instead of vice-versa.

Rod Morgan, who came from a small public high school in upstate New York, says he felt out of place at first among the seeming gangs of freshmen who came from prominent prep schools and were already great buddies. Freshman Commons was the great equalizer, he says, as were such great things as the College Band, where you could easily "do your thing." ".And besides, you got to go to all the football games free."

Also remembering Commons, Fritz Witzel says John Roberts just loved milk, and he would empty all the left-over pitchers at most meals, gulping down an extra 2-3 quarts. Fritz recalls going out to the golf course on his first day in Hanover, where he hooked up with Whitey Myers and Bob Hirshfield. "A chance meeting," says Fritz, "and Whitey became a roommate and Bob a fraternity brother, and the three of us were best friends for life."

Steve Tate remembers coming back from an out-of-town cross-country race to find his and roommate Cliff Baum's room chockablock full of balled up newspapers. "It took us hours to get the paper out," he says. "Talk about a fire hazard—and my father was an insurance agent."

Bob Mclaughry recalls the literal drowning of George Recke's botany project, a large potted plant he had grown outside the windowsill of his ground-floor dorm room. Mclaughry, Dick Dargie, and Chuck Clucas took turns peeing on the plant, which slowly withered and died. The Recker got a 'C' in the course.

Bill Craig thinks back on the Vigilantes, the "mean" sophomores in their black hats and demeanors, whose job it was to see that the freshmen wore their beanies, whooped it up at rallies, and sat in the back row of the Nugget.

Finally, Wemo Epply vividly recall being in the starting gate of a slalom race on a miserable day in Vermont and the Austrian-born coach, Walter Prager, exhorting: "Okay, Veemo, take it real easy und go like hell."

"I've always thought," says Wemo, "that that was a pretty good formula for life."

That's it, Happy memories. And Blessings.

P.O. Box 24, Lovejoy Hill, Cornish Flat, NH 03746

Okay, Veemo, take it real easy und go likehell. Ski Coach WalterR Prager TO Wemo EPPLY '44, 1940