1981

Since I am overworked and lazy, I give you this letter from Steve "Sully" Sullivan. I was with Steve in Blois. He got a 4.0.I got Sophie Laurent (far more mature than her 17 years suggested). "I write on behalf of some forgotten souls whose names do not appear in the AlumniMag., if indeed they ever have. I'm guessing studies show your typical reader flips to the end of the magazine looking for names, primarily marily his or her own name, but failing that, some familiar names. So here's my namedropping wedding report—and what's the going rate for getting a wedding-related photo published? Exactly what magnitude of contribution to the Alumni Fund are we talking about?

"The following '81s attended the Sept. 12 wedding of Mark "Goat" Robinson '83 in beautiful Kennebunkport, Maine (bride: Denise Roy, a wonderful person but no doubt unknown to most of your readership—her name's expendable): George McLaughlin, Jeff Tepper,Charlie Jacobs, Nick Carr, and yours truly.

"Tepper's recently been featured in the column as a star rocks prof at Valdosta State, so don't feel compelled to give him additional publicity. Dr. Jacobs is a nephrologist (there's five bucks in it for you if it appears in the magazine as 'phrenologist') in Waterville, Maine; looks the same, still wearing the same Healthtex togs he wore the day he matriculated; married to Cindy, daughter Katie; they're all skiers. Nick Carr is a senior editor of the Harvard BusinessReview; always the playful one, his clever insertion of subliminal messages in the last edition resulted in the recent stock market plunge. Lovely wife Ann was there; teenager Nora and eight-year-old Henry stayed home. For the number of '81s who remember Dave Teplow ('Disco Teps' chaperoned the Richardson '81s through their sophomore summer term), he is that most remarkable of creatures: he's built an extremely successful computer programming business in the Boston area, but remains the same stalwart friend and all-around great person he's always been; father of four, I believe; most excellent wife Wendy.

And then there's George. What can I say? The circus came to town, and, unlike the last Ringling Bros, show I took the kids to, this one did not disappoint. Now an established trial lawyer in Boston, George put on a comic performance that began when he and his wife, Charlene, drove up and stopped traffic in their extra-long, extra-black Mercedes, and did not end, or even slow down perceptibly, until all of the lesser mortals had stumbled into bed after a long night of dancing and too many beers. Even this jaded bunch of alums, who've seen a lot of comedy in their time, stood in awe of the man. Some 50-year-old woman none of us knew was having spasms over his retelling of the incredible but true disappearance and miraculous rediscovery of The Bust of Cleopatra, involving, among other things, unregistered firearms in the dorm, titillating bronze pornography, a barrage of gunfire shattering the stillness of the Upper Valley, and a surprise ending with a less-than-scrupulous campus police officer. Followed by 40 minutes of improv with a tray of what George described as 'piping hot dinner rolls.

"By the way, this is also my pitch for what I see as a daytime talk variety show. Any interest? George would go over with the housewife viewer at least as well as Rosie O'Donnell (he had the female cooks and bartenders at the wedding eating out of his hand), and he could even take on Court TV, with a laugh-filled round-up of all the top legal news, from a practitioner's perspective. He doesn't need some deadweight sidekick, because Charlene is a dynamo in her own right. Unfortunately, right now the talent isn't on board, but if you can show him some money, I think I can bring him around.

"Me? I'm an assistant attorney general for the State of Maryland; wife Martha is a former fashion model (see June '88 Vogue), two sons, Jared (5) and Clay (2); cat Whiskers; Baltimore, Md."

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