A Thankless Job (Because You Didn't Know Who to Thank)

Divers Notes and Observations

BACK IN 1990, the editor of this magazine was desperate. He had created a new column called "Dr. Wheelock's Journal," and he needed help. The column had to draw on Dartmouth's history and traditions as context for understanding current campus events and imbroglio wanted someone who could report on what was happening through the eyes of someone who'd seen it all before. The editor, alas, hadn't seen it all before. He sat in front of the computer, feeling sorry for himself.

At that very moment, Dr. Wheelock walked through the door, in the form of Bill Scherman '34. This man had seen it all before. The one-time chair of our editorial board, retired vice president of Newsweek, and former promotion manager of three Time Inc. magazines had been keeping tabs on the Alumni Magazine as a friend, sounding board, and informal advisor. But the best part was, he talked exactly the way the editor had been trying to write. That is, crusty and friendly and calm and, best of all, funny, in a droll and very, well, Dr. Wheelock sort of way.

"Can you write the way you talk?" the editor asked. "Better than you can talk the way you write," replied an already-in-character Dr. Wheelock (you can now call him Bill).

And so was launched a very beautiful friendship, not to mention a column. In April of 1990 readers of this page were

greeted with this notice:

With those words, Bill made the column his. He reported on virtually every significant cultural, academic, and sporting event, and construction project (his favorite topic) that occurred on his beat. And he took his charge as columnist seriously, doling out pieces of his mind with self-aware and worldly-wise panache.

You haven't lived until you've heard"Men of Dartmouth "—OOPS, the "AlmaMater"—played on the bagpipes.

It was a fine first weekend of the term, asboth men's and women' s soccer, and fieldhockey too, beat the Quakers. Even the bandhas learned a new number.

Despite the almost universal neglect paidto it by the national media, the news mayhave filtered through to you that thePresident of the United States received anhonorary degree from Dartmouth College.

Bill knew how to be a critic if the need arose. He often accused the magazine's editors of removing the pith from his prose. The editors will admit to trimming a little pith now and then, but never diluting his vinegar.

According to those who should know, thiswill be an excellent year for the maple sugarindustry. The sap has been running well onthe campus, too.

The Review has now unburdened itself ofan entire issue, "Freedman's Ouster,"which has been distributed to all alumni.Purporting to be a pitch for subscriptions, itis merely one more diatribe against thepresident and the administration, recitingthe same preposterous allegations. Thesehave been disproved again and again, butwith zero effect on the Review's editors andthe trained seals of the right wing, who continue them as though no one has ever said aword. It's like those trick birthday candles.Blow as hard as you can and they comeright back on.

What Bill's column did best was to capture the small moments. Bill noted, for instance, that French director Bertrand Tavernier left the screening of his own new film at the Hop to catch a showing of Fargo at the Nugget. Reporting on the demolition of the old Mary Hitchcock Hospital, Bill concluded with the observation, "We noted four official-looking characters looking speculatively up at Bradley as if to say, 'How long before it's your turn?'"

Like all columnists, Bill erred on occasion. And when called on it, he followed his own script perfectly, correcting the error, but wholly unrepentantly.

As it must to all Boy Reporters, we gotour comeuppance over last month's big scoopthat the Democratic presidential candidateswould debate in Hanover on January 19,and presumably shower the nation with fireworks like those achieved in 1987. Not so.The Dems'troglodyte New Hampshire committee adamantly insisted on making theevent a fundraiser and obviously neither theCollege nor co-sponsor UNH could be aparty to that.

Now, after 68 columns as Dr. Wheelock (and one as Mrs. Wheelock for the award-winning coeducation celebration issue), Bill is putting down Eleazar's mininotebook and golf pencil. He says he doesn't want to face any more DAM deadlines. (He isn't being profane, DAM is the insiders' acronym for Dartmouth AlumniMagazine.) That isn't wholly true. Bill will continue to write book reviews for this magazine. As for the Journal, this is the final entry.

Which reminds us—Bill always ended his column with a joke. Usually an old joke that had nothing to do with anything else in the column. A joke like this one, which only Dr. Wheelock could tell:

Coach Ron Keenhold, whose license platereads "DIVE," recently asked our editorwhy this column doesn't carry more newsabout a sport he has tutored and championssince its heading begins with "DiversNotes...." Reminds us of the hoariest of four-liners:

"Why does a duck go under water?'" "Fordivers reasons." " Why does he come backup?" "For sundry reasons."

Thank you, Bill.

Discerning readers (ofwhich we know you are one)will notice a change in thewriting style of this column. The beleagueredand dubiously talentededitor who until recentlywas the Journal's solewriter has sought somehelp from others....