1918

Did I murmur something a month ago about winter's coming in? At that time Rollo curled the lip of scorn at my being "reduced," as he put it, "to talk about the weather." But lie withdrew protest when, a little later, weather ceased to be merely a conversation piece. The Great White Cold really walked abroad. Walked? Rushed and howled and roared. To be sure, in one crazy pause the temperature rose, and whirling snow turned to rain, but only just long enough to give New England a soaking wetdown that froze hard during one hideous night of snow-laden gale. It sent crashing down tree-limbs and many whole trees, their branches weighted with ice. Next morning the campus, the town, vividly reminded us oldsters of how it looked after the '38 hurricane. Power and light and telephone wires too were down and broken, which meant that many a home in the Hanover area lacked heat and light for periods up to 30 hours.... Had the College been in session, classes would surely have been called off, as once back in the early Twenties, owing to a mere three-foot snowfall, Dean Laycock caused them to be. His humane act gained for him rebuke from Ransom Wells, and supplied him one of his best stories, in which he would quote Ransom's disgusted comment that concludes with "I call it, 'Dartmouth grandmother of men!'"... (How, by the way, was the no- classes word broadcast in that primitive era of no radio?)

Of this year's storm, debris is still about, and in the current sub-zero cold, ice-coated branches, fallen or aloft, glitter spectacularly in the sun. The photographs you could get, Al Street! Clear blue skies now, windless calm, and ample powder snow. What a New Year's weekend for the skiers!

So far as I know, all of Eighteen's Hanoverians - the Barrs, Blandims, Stoddards - survived our icestorm-blizzard. The sleddog express has brought over the river actual word only from the Stoddards. For 21 hours they lacked light and electric power, but they kept warm and nourished and cheerful, says George, piling logs on the fire and filling the bowl up with a potation called "Moosejaw" alleged by its inventor (GCS), who named it, to be of world-wide good repute. George and Hulda on 15 January head for Florida, there to spend three months recuperating from the rigors of Episode Arctic. At the Pow-Wow, then - now hear this, Daniels - should be in attendance at least two of our three Admirals: Markey and Stoddard. Let's hope Admiral Mather can also appear, as referee of, or participant in, the tall-tale-telling contest that must surely develop.

Yesterday, Francis Childs and I were reminiscing at his fireside. He remarked, "Well, the hurricane in the fall of '38, and this winter storm in '69. Both bad while they lasted, but if, weatherwise, disaster strikes no oftener than once every thirty years, we're pretty well off. Cheer up, Ed! Neither of us will have to face the next one!" So I refrained from glooming over possible - no, probable - floods next spring. Instead, by way of changing the subject, I picked up the December ALUMNI MAGAZINE and asked, "Francis, have you ever read the College's Charter? I confess I haven't." He answered emphatically, "Yes, certainly. A number of times. I may say I've studied it. It's a bit hard and slow-going, full of 18th century legalisms. But you ought to read it. I'm surprised you haven't. Don't try the original document though — or reproduction thereof - that's framed and hanging in the Harold Rugg Room in Baker Library. You'll go blind if you try that. The text in the December MAGAZINE - begins on page 75, doesn't it? — is accurate and clear, and the marginalia are a guide to the subject matter, most helpful as you go along.... Then Jere Daniell's ('55) account of Wheelock's contriving to get the Charter is a lively eye-opener as to Eleazar's political astuteness. Also to Governor Wentworth's." Francis chuckled. "There, Ed! I'm assigning you some collateral reading."

I accepted the assignment, which I now graciously share, plus F.L.C.'s dicta appertaining thereto, with all of you, my fellow Eighteeners. To Francis I recommended the piece written by Jack Hurd '21 in the same issue, "Eleazar: The Man Behind the Myth," which he had not yet read but I had. Illuminating and enjoyable. That good counsel too I pass along to you all. When you've done your homework, drop me a card, won't you? Just to report the fact of your achievement, or, if you're moved to expatiate, write me as full a letter as you care to. Who'll be the first to make the Eleazar Club?

Here I pause to 'phone Charles Widmayer to ask him if he intends the MAGAZINE to carry an account of the Trustees' Dinner on December 13 celebrating Charter Day. ... "We do indeed so intend," replied Charles - note his proper editorial "we"! - "five or six pages on it. You want to play up the Eighteen angle in your column, I suppose?" My answer was, "I certainly do. I'm certainly going to." But my breathless bedazzlement with that editorial "we" was what, I suppose, made me forget to ask whether his "five or six pages on it" would be in the January issue — now about to hit the stands — or the February one, for which these notes are flowing - with the speed of a glacier - from my pen. I suspect the January number will carry the story. Nevertheless, gentlemen, you're to read here in February, even if you learned of it in January, that at that great dinner in December all Eighteeners present had their proudest of that evening's many happy moments when the College's Senior Trustee, our own Harvey Hood, was eloquently praised by the toastmaster, who in conclusion declared Harvey famed and beloved "for his purveyance of milk - the milk of human kindness."

Whenever you read, whether in January or February, the full account of that memorable December evening in Leverone, be assured that all of your '18 representatives present wished that you too were there. It was a one-in-a-lifetime occasion, its every moment richly enjoyable, many of them profoundly moving. When in 2069 the Tercentenary of our Charter is celebrated, I hope a full documentation of the two-hundredth will be available to the successors, descendants, great-grandsons of today's bright young men in Parkhurst and Crosby who planned meticulously and unobtrusively supervised the smooth execution of every minute detail of the management of this our Bicentennial. The speakers, readers, singers, who made it all memorable have been given merited applause and praise. My added tribute now I pay to the quiet hardworking group I call the bright young men, who staged it, made the others' memorable performances possible.

One of them, Fritz Hier '44, writes on p. 10 of the MAGAZINE for December the excellent review of "Name, Rank, and Serial Number" by our own Colonel Florimond Duke. I mention it so you'll not overlook it, and also to repeat my promise to pass on to you either in this column or via "The Roar" the account Phil Nordell '16 sent me last spring of how as a freshman Florimond Dusossoit acquired the nickname Duke, which eventually he took as his legal surname. Permission to use Nordell's story I Had only just obtained from Ellen and was about to publish it when came the shocking word of her sudden death. ... When my secretary — an incredibly careless chap, initials: EHB - can find the now mislaid copy he was then preparing, the matter will be considered anew.

Secretary, Elm St., Norwich, Vt. 05055

Treasurer, 45 Rip Rd., Hanover, N.H. 03755