A Golden Return

A 50th REUNION

To many in the class of 1953 it seems only yesterday, not a half-century ago, that they sat in caps and gowns awaiting their Dartmouth diplomas. Theirs was the first class to graduate on Baker lawn, the exercises,moved from the Bema to accommodate a crowd reported at 10,000. They heard President Eisenhower—in Hanover to receive an honorary doctorate of laws—inveigh against McCarthyism by urging the graduates, "Don't join the book burners." In the crowd that day sat members of the class of 1903, back in Hanover for their 50th reunion. At least two '53s remember Eisenhower saying something like this: "Gentlemen of the class of '53, the next 50 years are going to go by like this. [Eisenhower snapped his fingers.] If you don't believe that, take a look behind you at theclass of aught three." Whether true or memory mirage, those 50 years have indeed snapped by. Many in the class of 1953 fought in the Korean War. Brides were taken. Children were raised and many sons, and daughters too, graduated from Dartmouth. Careers were pursued. And at this year's Commencement, the once-young grates ates of the class of x953, back in town for their 50th reunion, took thei r honorary seats on the Green, symbolic of the new graduatefutures—and providing a living link to the past. Fifty years ago this June, Edward Hibbard Kenerson of the class of 1903 told the graduating '53s that on the eve of his own graduation an elderly gentleman named George Parks Whitcomb approached a group of 1903s gathered at the Hanover Inn for a final dinner. He made a simple but profound request. Whitcomb, a Chicago lawyer and a graduate of the class of 1853, was on campus for his 50th reunion. His eye to the future well beyond his own demise, Whitcomb hoped that one of those 1903s, upon their own 50th reunion, could pass on—to the graduating class of 1953—best wishes and congratulations from their counterpart class from the previous century. The pleasure of connecting the classes of 1853 and 1953 had fallen to Kenerson, who, in turn, asked those he congratulated to similarly unite his class with its numerical echo. So this year, at Class Day exercises in the Bema, Phil Beekman, Chuck Reilly and John Springer from the class of 1953 did exactly that, via an official Deed of Gift, and then presented a check from their class to this year's graduates to help seed their fledgling class account. The amount on the check? Two thousand and three dollars, of course. For the private side of this year's 50th reunion, five members of the class of 1953 share their thoughts and feelings on WHAT IT'S LIKE TO RETURNNil A HALF-CENTURY AFTER GRADUATION.

NORMAN CARPENTER '53

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Like many of his classmates, Norm Carpenter remembers the class of 1903 "tottering down the middle aisle" at his graduation in 1953. "We don't look like that now do we?" Carpenter wonders aloud, as amazed as most everyone else that their turn as honored guestsfias dome, an fishing the moment. "This is something I've been lookingg forward to—being on the Green, participating in the Commencement for the class graduating 100 years after the class that sat behind us at our graduation. Its the long, green line."

Asked if this reuion is plitying out dilferently than preyious Hanover reunions, Carpenter answers, "Its playing out better. There's less drinking. That's tpfe eyeballs I bring to this."

In 1976, just of his 25th reunion, Carpenter wrote a story for this ifelgazine, confessing his status as a recovering alcoholic. He did not blame Dartmouth, writing that whether he had gone or Haverford he'd probably have followed the same troubled path, But he expressed concern for the manyilf effects causedby heavy drinking on campus and lobbied fer change. He's still lobbying. On Saturday of reunion weekend b| Speaks first, ahead of Dr. C. Everett Koop'37, on a paneltitled "Then and Now: Drinking at Darttoouth."

Carpenter also contends there's far less self-congratulation,less posturing 50 years out. "At the 25th some of us suspected a couple of guys of renting Mercedes to come to the reunion," he says, noting that their 50th reuriidn book;contains mych less resume pollhing, more thank yous and more reflection.

Maybe because Carpenter has openly discussed his personal demons, others in the class feel comfortable confiding in him. At a previous reunion he talked late into the night with a classmate, helping him deal with aching family issues. "There's a level of trust in this class that aids these kinds of conversations," he says, pointing to Dartmouth classmates as logical, viable hilppmates in troubled times. "There's a safety in confiding in a classmate. It's not like telling your next-door neithbor. There's the sense you can leave it in Hanover."

DAVE HALLORAN '53

Altamonte Springs, Florida

"Most of my best friends in life are here. I have a few others from my professional and high school days, but the people who really care about me and my life and my family, as We care about them, are here," says Dave Halloran on the way into Friday morning's memorial service for departed classmates at Rollins Spinal arthrier perhaps brought on from landing fighter jets on aircraft carriers after Dartmouth, currently limits his mobility.

"I was a bit apprehensive about coming hack in a wheelchair." he says. "Life looks different when you're staring at umbilicals rather than:eyes." He need not have worried. When Halloran needed to go to the bathroom at Rollins Chapel during the service, classmate Jack Patten, captain of the football team, left his seat behind Halloran to wheel him to and from the lavatory. Class valedictorian Fran L'Esperance, a pioneering ophthalmologist, promised in a private moment daring the weekend, to help seek additional opinions about possible surgery for Haitian's condition.

"Peoplecare," says says Halloran. "The concern is not perfunctory. It's family As it says repeatedly in our class newsletter: There are no strangers in 'the class of 1953.' There's a special warmth among us. As a class of undergraduates we weren't particularly good athletically or academically, but we liked each other. And we never lost a party."

He explains that, unwilling to wait five years for official reunions, his classmates have for decades scheduled mini-reunions and bigger, maxi-mini-reunions around the countiy in off years: ski trips in Aspen, golf gatherings in Florida, get-togethers in the Poconos or Napa Valley. "Tom Bloomer '53 said to me at a maxi-mini one year, 'I know all these people here, but I can't remember when I first got to know them, as undergraduates or in graduate school or at reunions since.' And it's really true," says Halloran.

The class of 1953 appears especially blessed with seconds-stage friendships. "Is there a maxi-mini in heaven?" wonders Halloran. "I don't know, but I wouldn't rule it out."

GILBERT "GIB" WARREN '53

Sanibel, Florida

"Oh my God, Gib, it's been centuries."

Not quite. But Father Ed Boyle '53, standing at the back of an overfilled Filene AuditOriumfor a class meeting, hasn't seen difa Warren for 52 years. Nor have most of his classmates. Warren, a member, of the freshman golf and swimming teams, transferred'to the University of Wisconsin after his sophomore year when he realized his shortcoming in Spanish wdtlfd keep him out of School. He has nonetheless reipained a loyal son of Dartihouth. When he; lived in the Chicago area he attended local Dartmouth club evehts and interviewed prospective students.Annuallys, for the last 50 years he's written out a check to the College. He has kept up on his classmates' doings through the class newftetter an Class Notes in this magazine. He has returned to the campus on occasional visits to Hanover. Biit Warren had never attended a class reunion-until this one.

"I'm sow I misled so many reunions," he says early on Commencement morning, the Green filling with camear-toting parents and family members. He says he wasn't nervous to rejoin his class after so many years. "The day you matriculate here," he says, "you're part of the Dartmouth family." And, indeed,posing for his photo near the 18th green on the before fiis tee time in the class golf outing; the years peeled instantly away when somebody needled from the terrace: "Hey, Gib, you're not posing for Sports Illustrated are? you?"

"I said to my wife, Toni; last night iliat tfiis highlights of my life.Eyen though I was only here for two years, I got the best out of those years," he says. "Walking in the graduation ceremony later this morning will close that issue. Toni gave me this-green jackeE years ago- She sa}d to get it out of tie closet and get it cleaned. If I could pass along a bit of advice,it would be this: Don't miss reunions. Even if you didn't graduate with your class, as in my lase, you're still a part of the classH think many of us know this, but we still have to get off the dime and come. Toni and I are already looking forward to the 55th."

TED SPIEOEL '53

Winnetka, Illinois

"I think the pull for the 50th is different," says Ted Spiegel, who has made it to all but his 35th reunion. "Its the pinnacle of ail reunions, and everyone has in the back of their minds that the attrition rate is going to be much higher. It's unspoken, but everyone knows it."

Since graduation, his class has lost 144 members. Inside this years 50th reunion packet, each attendee found a "'53 Remembers" card to pin to his jacket lapel or shirt for Commencement exercises. On his card, Spiegel wrote "Sock," the nickname of his Alpha Delta Phi brother Jack Senne '53, who passed away just short of the 45 th reunion. Spiegel was an usher at Senne's wedding, came to know his wife and daughters well, and gave the eulogy at his classmate's memorial service. Years earlier, Senne and his family supported Spiegel and his wife, Audrey, by spending Christmas with them the year the Spiegels' only child died when her car was struck by a drunk driver.

"It does seem like yesterday were students. Honest to "God, it does," says Spiegel. "This is such a familiar place. It doesn't change that much. I have come back every five years but one. I've stayed in contact with a lot of people in the class. There are maybe 50 people I'm really close to. They're part of our extended family." One of the "guiding feelings of this class," he shares, is to stay active. Since the last reunion he and classmates Charlie Buchanan and Phil Beekman braved heliskiing in the Canadian Rockies. In the summer of 2002 Spiegel joined Beekman and another classmate, Gene Gabianelii, to hike the East Maroon Pass near Crested Butte, starting at 8,000 feet, climbing to 12,000 feet, then back down to 8,000 feet—15 miles in nine hours.

"I can't imagine, someone not coming, back for a 50th reunion if they had a cadre of friends they felt comfortable with and respected—can't imagine not wanting to find out what, their lives are about today and how they approach" life," says Spiegel. "That's the richness of having relationships, understanding at someone a strong human being so you can make yourself better."

DAVE COST '53

Sante Fe, New Mexico

"I don't get back East often, so I don't have as much regular interaction wish the as sathe, I've been to maybe halt our reunions," says Dave Cost, the only '53 to show up with his hair in a ponytail. After the death of a son in 1987, Cost left behind his first career, in banking. He became a poet and more recently,:an artist, discovering talents he never knew he possessed at Dartmouth. For his '53.reunion book.entry he submitted a 57-line poena.

"We are not going to the final dinner on Saturday wilt, which tends to celebl|re what a wonderful class we are,.but to see some people: who are important in my life, to renew the intimacy of relationships," he says. "The last couple reunions I've not gone to some of the organized luncheons but singled out classmates with whom I have an honest connection and had lunch with them and their wives. I want to go home arid not feel that I've been at house parties."

He recalh a key message in a Saturday morninglectureon aging, saying, "The people who go before you become part of who you are, the nutrients that feedvour lifer—not only your family but your friends—they're fill Within you. I feel this way about a lot of people but especially with many of my classmates." Cost calls his Daitmouth Mindships enduring and growing. "It's amazing come back," he continues. "Even though you haven't seen someone for five years you can resume a conversation as if they had just gone out of the room for a minute."

Word sltead quietly of she early onset of Alzheimer's in one classmate and the class effectively tightened its embrace, watching out for him, spending time with him. "I had fun with him," says Cost. "I wanted to soak. him up. I think we get closer as we get olde. Probably we mellow out a bit, but I alsl think the aft is cleared a bit. There's nothing left to do but put our arms around each other and say we're really happy to be together."

On the porch of Coliis Student Center, June 5, 2003

Inside Baker-Berry Library, June 6, 2003

Near the 18th green at Hanover Country Club, June 5, 2003

Inside Stell Hall at the Tuck School, June 6. 2003

At the Hood Museum, June 6. 2003

John Grossmann lives in Mountain Lakes, New Jersey. He has written for The New Yourk Times Magazine, Sports Illustrated and other magazines. His son, Jeff, is a member of the class of 2006.