1946

I talked to Reg Pierce, who reports it was minus-20 in Hanover. Shades of the winter of '42 -'43! So all of you in southern climates count your blessings. Spoke with Clark Judge, who is still Playing tennis (indoor) and counting the days until he can play outside on his own court. Reached out for Dave Chalmers in Houston, Texas. Dave's still at it in his oil business. He told me he recently took a trip to Baghdad. Now that's a bit scary, but Dave said they didn't know he was an American. When not in Texas he spends time down on his spread in Mexico. Says he's looking forward to the 55th. Had a long phone visit with Richardson Hall buddy Rick Kelly. Rick's in Scarsdale N.Y., and retired in 1988 from NBC. Rick spent 42 years with NBC. He did all sorts of producing, supervising and whatever in the TV world. He is still the actor and is now playing various roles in community theater.

I am now going to do something a bit different—and I hope you'll find it entertaining. Bob Kimball (now wintering in Arizona) wrote to me about an interesting encounter he had with a Mrs. Fullington of Fullington Farm up on the Lyme Road, north of Hanover. Seems she found out Bob was a '46er and said she had a story for him. Many years ago she had baked two apple pies, left them on her porch to cool off and went out on an errand. She returned to find the pies gone and in their place a Dartmouth 1946 beer mug and the name "Dick" printed thereon. While not the crime of the century, this has baffled the Upper Valley police for years, and she finally found a '46er to tell. Obviously a clear case of quare clausum fregit Perhaps the miscreant, upon reading this, will come forward. I have been assured by '46 legal eagles Joe Donahue, Bob Hunt,Warren Kealey, Ralph Smith and BradMorehouse that the statute of limitations has long run and besides no one could be prosecuted de minimis non curat lex. That this dastardly deed was done by a '46er there can be no doubt. After all, res ipsa loquiter. So please, whoever was the daring perpetrator, announce yourself. There's a reward being offered—three apple pies. And you might even get back your beer mug. And if any of you hope I'll explain all that Latin gobbledygook, well you have the right to hope. Haven't the slightest idea what it means but it sounded good.

On a sad note, Jack Howard called me just before Christmas to tell me that BobPoet had died suddenly at his home in Fullerton, Calif. I am always saddened to read of the death of any classmates. This was especially so since Bob, Jack and I had roomed together freshman year and I had known Bob from high school days, when we ran against each other. Our deepest sympathy goes out to his wife, Liz, and their children.

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