1937*
Mr. Donald C. McKinlay Secretary-Chairman Class of 1937 DEAR DON:
I believe that I may proceed to be the first guest writer of your monthly blurbs while working on the supposition that I was chosen by you because I am in the excellent position to give the class a firsthand picture of what Dartmouth is like now that our great class has left it to survive on its own merits.
So far Dartmouth seems to have fared surprisingly well without us. But, I am not entirely certain that this is completely so, since it is almost as easy for one who lives in Hanover to slip out of the main stream of Dartmouth life, as it is now being lived by an entirely new generation than the one we were part of and knew so thoroughly, as it is for those who have been separated from the College at great distances to feel the initial pangs of haze concerning the exact location of Gile Hall.
Naturally we who are still with Dartmouth continue to see Baker Library every day. Dartmouth Row is still a familiar sight, and a beautiful one, but graduation creates a void for any alumnus between himself and the pulse beat of the College that is impossible to bridge merely by standing on the sidelines and watching as one who has gone through and passed through must do unless he wish to invite a lot of heartaches.
In truth, working for the College often means that one gets even very far away from the physical surroundings of Hanover in the rush of the daily routine that must be met.
For this reason we stole time off from work this morning and sneaked away to the top of Balch Hill, in order that we might portray the Hanover that mothers Dartmouth.
From our lofty perch the Connecticut River valley stretched to the southward far to the horizon, the trees on the Hanover plains, on the foothills in Vermont and in every direction created a scotch plaid of colors that never fail to make me wonder if there is a more lovely spot in the world.
Actually, for a few brief moments, it made me feel very close to Dartmouth once more. One can never recapture the enthusiasm of a sophomore again, but I do believe that I will walk up Balch Hill more often now, even though I will have no obligations such as this column to make me do so.
You have asked me to find some space for expressions of my views on contemporary events. To coin a new phrase, all I know is what I read in the papers, and it is all very confusing. Sometimes I wish I had some faith, whether right or wrong, that Don Miller, now with the Honolulu Star-Bulletin, apparently has discovered to suit his own personal needs, as you will gather from excerpts from his letter:
"We have been starved for COMPLETE news of the War. I won't begin to discuss it. You know in a vague way where I stand. I know we both are one in our desire to see Hitlerism wiped out and therefore the war prosecuted to a finish. I know you are inveighing against the Soviet Union. When so liberal a periodical as the New Republic calls the pact 'Stalin's Munich,' I feel sure you are attacking the Soviet Union likewise. But time will prove her true position I feel sure. Don't forget the NEP (New Economic Policy). If Lenin could put forth such a program, apparently the very anthithesis of what the Bolsheviks had been working for since 1898, reverse the stand after the advantages had been made clear, then this 'apparent' reversal of position doesn't seem so much after all. Time will prove that it was not only the only thing that could be done, but the best. The fact that England and France were about to let Poland and Russia fight the war against Hitlerism while they remained neutral was sufficient reason to question.
"It sickens me to see some of my young friends so G. D. reactionary. But there are plenty of swell radicals just as there were at Dartmouth. . . .to whom I owe so much for opening my eyes."
It is only right to say that Miller did not write this letter to Trie directly, but since I am in the driver's seat this month, my reaction to his letter is only that he is lucky to have a belief that is so steady against overwhelming facts against it, whether he wants to think so or not.
My own opinion on the matter can be given in one old fashion word—NUTS.
Why everybody who doesn't believe with the Parlor Pinks should be called reactionary and stupid, is more than I can understand. Their side is all right, and will make contributions to society. There is no quarrel with this, I believe. But the nonradicals, and I don't like this word in a sweeping sense—for there is no such thing as being radical on all points and nonradical on all {joints—make us listen to them, and all they get from our conversation is nausea, to which they are welcome.
Actually, though, Don, I guess I don't know much about it, so will keep all further opinions to myself. Anyhow it's too long a story, especially since guys have been married this month, and I would be the last person to neglect congratulating them.
A 1 Pingree joined the veterans on September 23 with Elinor Percy as the bride. Danny Mitchell, who could skip over a hurdle with the best of them, made his biggest leap of a lifetime on the same date. Mr. and Mrs. Horace Huffman announced that daughter Marion was the party of the second part. Russell Meredith Jr. beat them both to the mark on September 9 when he married Ruth Stitzer.
Your late flash on the literary accomplishments of Mai Merritt will also be duly reported. As I interpreted your rather muddled handwriting, Mai has released a book of poems titled, Evening in NorthAmerica, and from the brief outline I would add that he has apparently done a grand job.
There are also four members of our class who aren't worthy of a sneeze in the column. They don't write to a friend, they don't phone, and all I do is look them up every chance I get. I am talking about those minor members of the Unity House quintet, Ed Ryan, Roy Hatch, Skip Brown, and Willie Leonard. Ryan I'm sure is getting fat and doing well, for I visited with him over night at Washington during the spring training trip for the Green baseball team. Hatch has his name in print in the Boston Traveler from time to time. The guy writes a good piece, too, although it grieves me to say so when he's such a lousy ex-roommate. Brown was all business at the CornellDartmouth game last fall, and the last time I saw Leonard, I believe I got him out of bed at 11:30 A.M. to whip down to Westport Center (the gasoline station on the right) for a quick hello.
From my hometown paper I have learned that Tony Geniawicz is assisting Tom Whalen at Lynn English with the high school football team. Tom probably wishes he had Tony back as a player, because he really was some potatoes as a high school fullback.
Jack Devlin, who was the only man I ever saw who could run a hundred in 10 seconds flat on skates, also has contributed a letter on his trip to the Pacific Coast. It's too bad Jack didn't take the trip before his freshman year, because he was always looking for theme material, and now has enough dope to fill a book. He saw Bill Cash in Milwaukee, and probably a lot of other people before he finished with the United States and Mexico. He's also a tired old business man with the Shawmut National Bank, where Dick Wood is likewise employed.
Rowley Bialla, who will get sucked in for a guest column later, took a two weeks excursion with Bill Greenwood up in Maine, or is it down Maine?—this summer. He should have saved the note that Jack Foley is engaged to Mary Baxter, and also the notes on Dick Sawyer, Ike Collins, and Don MacCormach, all of whom were married this summer. I say he should have stored this stuff away, because he'll need it for his own efforts, and I'm not fooling.
At a little two by four theatre in Ipswich, Mass. this summer the lights went on after "Goodbye Mr. Chips," and in front of your correspondent was Norm Marshall and behind us both was Larry Brooks. The reunion was not only unexpected but brief. Larry I know is working with the Le-Page Glue Cos. in Gloucester, Mass. Both paid the fares of two gals into the show, and the lady I was with was my wife—l think.
Bill Sayre took the long way around the horn on a trip to the Coast, to rest up for his law study. He has made the Journal competition at Yale after a competition that lost 15 men out of 30 starters. Bialla was also one of the clever group.
Bill Clay, Department of Justice Clay, you can call him now, seems to have been pretty busy. In his own order, Yale, Justice, Marriage, Bar Exams, and we're afraid to put them out of place for fear something funny might be the result. Jerry Lowe and Ed Wynot are also working at Justice—which makes me feel that there is hope for it. He takes it for granted, Don, that you know Bud Knorr and Herm Anstatt are married.
Hal Putnam, pushing his way to the top of the Boston Globe according to Wes Goding '39, who works in the same office, wants you to know that he's proud of his marriage to Betty Mason on June 17. W. Sterling Atwater Jr. to be formal about the whole thing, was best man, and Pug Goldthwait, the old speed-skater, was one of the ushers.
We see Johnny Handrahan, something o£ a fullback himself way back, everyday, and Johnny does a thorough job instructing the freshmen backs. Of course Johnny's fame as a player grows every year now that he's retired. Carl Ray was one the spectators at the St. Lawrence game, and will scout for the coaching staff this fall, or so I am told. Dave Camerer writes when he wants something, and that's all. Jack Williams is well-settled in married life, and his running mate at right guard is keeping himself out of my range of information. Hank Whitaker is probably about the same, although he isn't much on writing letters. Latta McCray is getting along all too well instructing the Crimson frosh linemen, and if he keeps it up, Harvard might beat us some year, at that. I said, just might.
Which is a good note to end on, Don, because the space is gone, I'm exhausted trying to make something out of this, and you're no one to complain if I haven't, because you asked for it.
Sincerely yours, WHITEY FULLER
Secretary-Chairman, 10314 S. Hoyne Ave., Chicago, 111.
Treasurer, Deerfield Academy, Deerfield, Mass.
