LE 
 
 DARTMOUTH '99 
 
 VICENNIAL 
 
 ETCHINGS AND ECHOINGS 
 
 IN ARCADY AGAIN 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://archive.org/details/vicennialreportoOOdart 
 
\, •** 
 
VICENNIAL REPORT 
 
 OF 
 
 DARTMOUTH '99 
 
 FOLLOWED BY FOUR LESSONS FOR THE CLASS IN GEOGRAPHY 
 
 AND 
 SOME OBSERVATIONS ON THE DARTMOUTH SESQUI-CENTENNIAL 
 
 "And when there come at last those happy days, 
 Let every voice and every heart combine 
 In our chant of loyalty and praise : 
 
 Ninety-nine ! Ninety-nine ! Ninety-nine ! " 
 
 — From Charles H. Donahue's Vicennial Re-union Song. 
 
 Printed at the Dartmouth Press 
 
 Hanover, N. H. 
 
 1920 
 
Oath of Office 
 
 We who are your servants, Ninety-Nine, — we to 
 whom you give the bidding that there shall again be 
 visualized within the covers of a printed book all the 
 gravity and the gaiety, all the steadfastness and the 
 merrymaking that make us one, — 
 
 We salute you, brothers. 
 
 Herein we picture not ourselves but you, we reflect 
 not our own feelings and aspirations but yours, for we 
 are you. 
 
 And for the years that we may stand in your behalf 
 before our august mother, Dartmouth and in the eyes 
 of the calmly judging world, we pledge you every meas- 
 ure of devotion, and that same loyalty to all things high 
 that has inscribed forever on the college scroll of honor 
 those who have preceded us in service. 
 
D2-5U. 
 
 Arcady 
 
 You are back in Arcady. From cover to cover there 
 is no escape. By your own election when you flung 
 yourself down or flopped yourself down or when you 
 humoured those rheumaticky joints and just let your- 
 self down in that easy chair, with this book in your hand, 
 you took passage to Arcady. For Arcady lies in the 
 mind and the mind is its own place. There may be mud 
 or sleet or a gale outside. But you are in Arcady. 
 
 Prelude 
 
 To the greatest, most stupendous, interstate, cross-country, 
 go-as-you-please-but-go-it-together transportation scheme 
 ever conceived by the mind of man since the days of Xerxes 
 and Genghis Khan. 
 
 While most of the '99 Vicennial motorists were set- 
 ting out Friday afternoon for Keene or Saturday morn- 
 ing for the Dartmouth- Campus, there was one starter 
 who followed his invariable custom of being first on every 
 '99 stamping ground. Who but George Clark, striving 
 with Warren Kendall and Jim Barney to knock away in 
 season the last restraining blocks that the good ship 
 u '99 Vicennial" might slide down the ways of a perfect 
 Junetide and be launched upon the blue and rippling sea 
 of an eternal, sparkling memory. Thus George on that 
 memorable June morning, Friday the 20th, took his 
 cousin Clifford Fifield, a future Dartmouth initiate, and 
 
 3 
 
 683002 
 
set out from Boston with Ned Warren '01 and Mrs. War- 
 ren, in their car, bearing the precious freight of things 
 secretarial, chantantical, social, musical, stereoptical, and 
 otherwise Vicennial. Packed with especial care was a 
 small Pandora-like chest from which, as all mortals know, 
 there had flown centuries agone every species of misery 
 and woe, and in which alone remained the beautiful 
 winged creature whom men call Hope. And as the swift 
 miles flew behind and the rolling hills wheeled into view 
 above the horizon ahead, the little chest shone brighter 
 and more luminous, till the sun itself above w^as no>t more 
 glorious. 
 
 Thus Hope led all the rest and threw her enchant- 
 ment over every nook and corner of the old college. She 
 cast a keen and ^wondrous blue into the sky of day and 
 a rare gleaming into the stars of night, she filled the air 
 with freshness and music, and added new beauty to every 
 tree and building. And into every soul that strayed 
 within ten leagues of her she threw an exaltation of joy. 
 joy so intense that the very features of the face glowed. 
 Handshake and shoulder-clasp and eager look spoke of 
 a comradeship sincere beyond the power of words, last- 
 ing beyond a poet's fancy. 
 
 A Rushing Sound from the Four Quarters of the Com- 
 pass. 
 
 A door has just slammed. It's in Suite 32 in the 
 Auditorium in windy Chicago. The lock has snapped, 
 and there's a sign pasted on the groundglass pane — 
 
 "Ache, my poor friend, 
 I'm gone for a while 
 Where aches and pains end 
 And a smile is the style." 
 
Eastward, eastward, Cush speeds, while faster, 
 faster behind him, unseen, rushes the through express from 
 Omaha bearing Buck on his mad plunge for Buffalo, 
 there to leap into his waiting auto and outfoot his fleet rival 
 for the coveted mug of long distance supremacy. 
 
 Already rushing westward across the Atlantic, Wat- 
 tie has churned 3000 miles of wild sea water into foam, 
 that 
 
 East and West at last may meet, 
 Meet where the meeting is sweet, 
 Where dreams revive at the Mother's feet 
 And brothers long lost we greet. 
 
 So Bill Wason steams north from the torrid South 
 by train, while Weary Wardle from the far North leaves 
 his flourishing Laurentide colony to light, heat, and wash 
 itself, and drives south himself like a hurricane alone 
 in his powerful seven-passenger car. 
 
 So North and South and East and West 
 By roads converging do attest 
 One homeland only is the best, — 
 'Tis Arcady, forever Blest. 
 
 To drop rhyme and come down to the plain prose 
 of it we had a traffic squad consisting of Walter East- 
 man, George Huckins, and Luke Varney, that could make 
 the roughest backhill road look like city asphalt, and 
 they juggled timetables, passenger trains, and motor 
 parties like wizards. Here is Walter's modest statement 
 of it: 
 
Boston, Mass., September 9, 19 19. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 I have yours of July 28th relative to the twentieth year 
 reunion in Hanover last June, and I especially note your 
 suggestion that I write to you about the difficulties of a 
 traffic manager. It is impossible to do justice to your sug- 
 gestion, for the English language is not broad enough to 
 adequately express the conditions which the Transportation 
 Committee were up against. George Clark, as Secretary, 
 together with the Executive Committee, conceived the idea 
 of taking everyone to Hanover by automobile, and Secretary 
 Clark put it up to the Transportation Committee as an iron- 
 clad proposition that this must be done. Mr. Clark, being 
 a bachelor, had no conception of the difficulties he was im- 
 posing on the Transportation Committee. 
 
 The Transportation Committee made an honest en- 
 deavor to carry out the automobile transportation idea, but 
 early in the season we found that every married man who 
 owned an automobile would not furnish his machine unless 
 he could choose which one of the other fellows' wives he 
 would take to Hanover. All of the unmarried men who 
 owned machines insisted that they would not furnish the 
 same unless they could choose the married couple who would 
 travel with them. On the other hand, wives of the various 
 members of the class would insist upon riding to Hanover 
 in the automobiles belonging to the unmarried men, and also 
 there was one bride-to-be who would not attend the reunion 
 because she would have to ride in the same machine with the 
 about-to-be bridegroom. The Transportation Committee did 
 its best to smooth over all difficulties and please everyone, 
 and ultimately received splendid co-operation from all mem- 
 bers of the class who owned automobiles. 
 
 After the members of the class arrived in Hanover, 
 it was found that the automobile transportation feature was 
 a very good thing. The numerous letters asking for co- 
 
 6 
 
operation, which the Transportation Committee sent to 
 members of the class, were the means in one or two known 
 instances of inducing fellows to attend the reunion who 
 otherwise would not have done so. Furthermore, condi- 
 tions are now such that automobile transportation, after 
 arrival in Hanover, is necessary, and as all members of the 
 class cannot travel to Hanover in automobiles, it is really 
 necessary for every member of the class who can do so 
 to travel to Hanover in his car, in order that there may be 
 sufficient automobile space available in Hanover for mem- 
 bers who are without such transportation. 
 
 In connection with the automobile feature, it seems 
 especially fitting to mention the case of "Weary" Wardle, 
 who traveled alone in his seven-seater touring car all the 
 way from Shawinigan Falls, Canada, to Hanover, and the 
 fact that he brought his automobile with him greatly as- 
 sisted the Transportation Committee while in Hanover. 
 
 I wish to say just a word in regard to the personnel of 
 the Transportation Committee, which you will have to ap- 
 point for the twenty-fifth reunion. It may be that by the year 
 1924 aeroplanes will be sufficiently numerous so that it will 
 be desirable to have everyone travel to Hanover by aero- 
 plane instead of automobile. Be that as it may, you should 
 select as members of your Transportation Committee only 
 such men as own automobiles or aeroplanes, and by doing 
 so, I believe you will find the results much greater than those 
 obtained by the Transportation Committee for the twen- 
 tieth year reunion. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 W. R. Eastman. 
 
ARRIVAL 
 
 So from all the outposts of '99 geography streamed in 
 the joyous reuners. Bennie and Mrs. Bennie from Indiana, 
 Peddie and Mrs. Peddie from Ohio did not lag behind. 
 Cush finished his journey via Randolph, Vermont, in a vain 
 effort to fetch with him his sister and DuBois, while Buck 
 turned his car South from Buffalo to leave Mrs. Buck with 
 Mrs. Pap in New York and to add Pap himself and Hawley 
 Chase, with Lena and Leon, that incomparable pair, to 
 his festive party. Neal Hoskins had for himself the glory 
 of being the only man in that dull yellow column of "No's" 
 in the committee's advance report actually to repent and re- 
 une. He and Mrs. Neal came down from Sugar Hill with 
 his brother Carl '94, one of the master hosts to '99 on Mon- 
 day afternoon. 
 
 From western New York motored the Winchesters 
 with their boy Robert and their friend, Miss Dresser. In 
 the car of their good friends and adopted '99ers Mr. C. W. 
 Robie, New England manager of the American Express 
 Company, and his son, Mr. Harold W. Robie, came War- 
 ren Kendall and Mrs. Warren, while Jerry and the Gannons 
 traveled by some of the trains that the "Shepherd of the 
 Cars" for the time disdained. Carl Miller and Mrs. Carl 
 doubled their auto quota by the company of the Green- 
 woods, with the latter's friend Miss Smith. And can this 
 be the "Class Baby," clear-eyed and stalwart Ronald Leavitt 
 with his father and mother in their car? One more tally 
 and the Hanoverward pouring streams will all be within 
 the confines of middle and northern New England, — Wes- 
 ley Jordan, autoing from Beacon, N. Y., and lodging for the 
 reunion period at Plaisted. 
 
 Massachusetts! Fred Walker and Mrs. Fred are 
 closing the rear doors of their machine so that Elmer and 
 Mrs. Elmer and Marie shall not be lost out on the way 
 
 8 
 
north, while farther west Ralph Payne makes an early Sat- 
 urday morning start to stop at Keene to pick up K. Beal 
 and Mrs. K. for the rest of the jaunt Vicennialwards, with 
 a side trip to K. U. A. thrown in for good measure. From 
 Boston, Win Adams and Mrs. Win rode with Jim Barney 
 and Mrs. Jim north, Jim's nephew Cahill Hall at the steer- 
 ing wheel. Sleep drove up with a friend Edgar Lyle, now 
 Dartmouth 1923. He was delayed by auto trouble too late 
 to take up the Aliens as he had planned. Joe Hobbs and 
 Mrs. Joe paired off with Pitt and Mrs. Pitt, both Jim's and 
 Pitt's parties swelling the jolly fellowship at the Cheshire 
 Inn, Keene, that memorable Friday night, as did the Ho- 
 bans and the Donnies riding from Gardner in Owen's car. 
 But read at first hand Mrs. Carl Miller's account of this 
 curtain raiser to the grand Hanover performance. 
 
 Stamford, Conn., September 16, 19 19. 
 
 My dear Mr. Secretary : — 
 
 We, the Greenwoods and Millers, arrived at Keene 
 quite early and so had ample opportunity to watch the later 
 arrivals from the vantage point of the upper balcony of the 
 Cheshire Inn. Being a truly green Freshman everything 
 about the reunion was new to me. Mrs. Greenwood was 
 a very gracious and helpful guide and as each auto drove up 
 she gave me name and leading points about its occupants. 
 There were "Tap" Abbott, "Buck" Burns and our fellow 
 townsman, Hawley Chase, the dignified school principal, 
 arriving in a large car with "Lena" conspicuously placed 
 on the rear seat. Then came Mr. and Mrs. Winchester and 
 son and Miss Dresser, who proved to be such a delightful 
 addition to the ladies of the reunion. Next to arrive were 
 Mr. and Mrs. Kendall, bringing as guests Messrs. Robie, 
 father and son. Then my guide pointed out Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hobbs and Mr. and Mrs. Pitt Drew arriving further down 
 the line. 
 
In the dining room '99 was quite in possession. Each 
 new arrival was hailed uproariously and Freshman Mrs. 
 Miller enjoyed it all from her vantage point, wondering 
 inwardly if she could ever learn to fit names and faces to- 
 gether. I had not yet learned how quickly the glorious class 
 of '99 makes you one of its own and how soon the feeling 
 of strangeness vanishes like a morning mist. 
 
 After supper, or dinner, I hardly know what to call 
 that meal for the menu card seemed to have on it all the 
 dishes man has ever concocted, we adjourned again to the 
 balcony, and Mr. Sturtevant appeared. 
 
 About eleven o'clock when most good people think 
 of retiring, all of '99 that were within hearing, responded to 
 the call of "Strawberries" and trooped after our generous 
 host Mr. Robie to a nearby "Ice Cream parlor," where seat- 
 ed on high stools around the proverbial "elegant marble top 
 tables," the Freshman had her first experience of the fun 
 making capacity of the '99 reunions. 
 
 Mrs. Pitt Drew had a mysterious box of candy which 
 ought to be immortalized and which she refused to open. 
 Whether some stayed up all night, or none could sleep, is a 
 dark mystery. Suffice it to say that we all started to Hano- 
 ver at a fairly early hour next morning. 
 
 You must permit me, Mr. Secretary, to pay my tribute 
 to the ladies of '99 as I saw them, with the exception of one 
 or two, for the first time. I have brought home with me 
 many pleasant and inspiring memories of the forty-three 
 women who joined in the activities of those three eventful 
 days. Mrs. Pearl and Mrs. "Peddy" Miller, both so re- 
 sourceful ; the delightful hostesses of the afternoon tea, 
 Mrs. Richardson, Mrs. Tibbetts, and Mrs. Gannon; charm- 
 ing Mrs. Benezet ; and not least, Mrs. Huckins and Mrs. 
 Hoban who planned everything so successfully for our com- 
 fort. I cannot call them all by name but each one of them 
 contributed something to the spirit of good fellowship and 
 
 10 
 
helped make it to me, one of the most memorable occasions 
 of my life. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 M. Elizabeth White Miller. 
 
 Two other motor parties crossed the line into New 
 Hampshire Saturday morning, — Ralph Hawkes and his wife 
 leaving- the dust of Millbury behind them, and the Galushas, 
 one and all, Albert and Ruth included, forsaking the shades 
 of Sharon. N. P. adjourned court at Fitchburg to take 
 train for New Hampshire, while Bill Eaton dropped jour- 
 nalism to see to it that Cav had proper escort. 
 
 From northern Vermont Tedo Chase and Fronco 
 French paid carfare, but all the Joy family, including Pau- 
 line and Barbara, and Ed Flyatt with Mrs. Ed and Allen 
 bought gasoline and spare tires instead. 
 
 The Silvers from Plymouth, the Rab Abbotts and the 
 Parkers from Manchester drove each over New Hampshire 
 roads for the '99 Mecca. Hoppy and Mrs. Hoppy with 
 Faith brought Charlie Adams and Charlie Sturt from Keene, 
 and Jim and Mrs. Jim Walker brought Bill Currier from 
 Amesbury and Major Bob and Mrs. Major from Concord. 
 Hale Dearborn by telephone and otherwise having failed 
 to tear Herbert Rice from his intensive farming autoed to 
 Hanover alone, to park his car with the native machines 
 of Jim and Dave and Mushie. Nor should there be here 
 omitted as present those other Hanover members of the 
 great Family Ninety-Nine, — Skeet and Mrs. Tibbetts, Mrs. 
 Jim Rich, Mrs. Dave, and Mrs. Mushie, together with little 
 year-old Phoebe Storrs asleep in her crib at home and 
 Louise and Frank Richard Musgrove right on hand for 
 everything included in the rollicking '99 program. 
 
 Nor did the traditional Saturday forenoon train, whose 
 engine was depicted heading North on the last page of the 
 Quindecennial Report, fail to pull out from the North Sta- 
 tion as per schedule. On it were the entire transportation 
 
 11 
 
committee already mentioned, Walter Eastman, George 
 Huckins, and Luke Varney, the first two with their wives, 
 the last named in that solitary bachelor state that still graces 
 a few of our esteemed associates. If this particular trio with 
 the program committee, consisting of Pitt, Tim, and Ed Al- 
 len, do not deserve to rank with Baedeker and Raymond's et 
 al, then somebody will have to print something more up to 
 
 date than that 
 calendar of 
 those six June 
 opening of the 
 flyers released 
 through those 
 shadowings of 
 es in the "ole 
 hole" (Heaven 
 5 A. M. ! even 
 weary, bedrag 
 drooped, hot- 
 fowl oft the 
 ette didn't re 
 such hour!), 
 topsy-turvy an 
 "ski - jumping, 
 m i 1 1 i n g" on 
 those six stark 
 words on 
 
 '99 
 
 TIME TABLE 
 
 TO 
 
 NINETY-NINE 
 
 VICENNIAL 
 
 over 
 CLASS LINES 
 
 East, West 
 
 North and South 
 
 to 
 
 HANOVER TERMINAL 
 
 Revised to June 20, 1919 
 
 with its gay 
 events for 
 days from the 
 "coops" of bird 
 on Friday, 
 fantastic fore- 
 5 A. M. plung- 
 s w i m m i n g 
 save the mark, 
 those world- 
 gled, feather- 
 h o u s e-forced 
 Morality Play- 
 hearse at any 
 through the 
 nouncement of 
 weather - per- 
 Tuesday, to 
 grim - as - fate 
 Wednesday : 
 
 "3.00 — Last auto starts to return." 
 
 But the train! Besides those already mentioned there 
 were on board Bill and Mrs. Hutchinson, with the three lit- 
 tle H's, — William, Sarah, and Martha; Captain Wattie; 
 Eddie Skinner ; Spade Heywood ; Ed Allen and Mrs. Allen 
 and Theodore; Tim Lynch; Ray Pearl and his wife; and 
 Harry Wason with his wife and Lloyd. 
 
 12 
 
The journey is reported on the best authority to have 
 been made without adventure, though Walter Eastman was 
 seen perilously near the starting time at nine striding down 
 the middle of Franklin Street carrying what appeared to 
 be a 2 x 4 trunk. How he actually arrived at the North 
 Station is unknown. By some good omen from the same 
 bright winged Hope that had sped over the road the day 
 before, seats in a parlor car had been obtained at the last 
 moment. But by the malign influence, it must have been of 
 some contrary minded sprite, Harry Wason had not secured 
 one of these seats. Though he traveled up and down the 
 length of the train, he maintains to this day that he saw 
 not one familiar face. Such are the changes of twenty 
 years ! So he missed Tim's lively accounts of doings in the 
 Clark farm hayfields, and Wattie's pictures of days and 
 nights in No Man's Land. Likewise he skipped Dr. Pearl's 
 extemporaneous course on the food situation and on the 
 intricacies of the League of Nations. 
 
 Luke, it should be mentioned, boarded the train at Con- 
 cord whither he had come from his farm at Dover, and left 
 it at Leb to motor to Hanover with Jim Rich and Joe Gan- 
 non. 
 
 Then came the mad scramble at the June, the sighting 
 of Bennie and Peddie and their wives, the desperate toe hold 
 on the bottom step of the connecting train for Hanover — 
 and finally the uproar at the Norwich-Hanover station. A 
 covey of autos with windshields bearing the friendly labels 
 
 '99 
 ON TO 
 
 DARTMOUTH 
 
 a chorus of shouts, — "Wah-hoo-wah ! Wah-hoo-wah !" 
 blurred into " '99 up ! '99 up !" Handshakes, and incoherent 
 
 13 
 
shoutings, stacking and shoving of luggage, vain hunting 
 for the Benezet trunk, the procession marshalled across the 
 jarring, resounding bridge, the hill, the Campus, — and there 
 again at last the hospitable portal of Middle Massachusetts, 
 with the starry '99 service flag hung low. 
 
 And here is Weary Wardle to fill the shoes of the ab- 
 sent Jack Sanborn and John DuBois as well as his own for 
 the House Committee. And here are Mrs. Hoban and Mrs. 
 Huckins doing right well their duty for the Ladies' Com- 
 mittee, regretting Mrs. Irving's absence, but ably support- 
 ed by Mrs. Barney and Mrs. Kendall, who are busily pin- 
 ning on the chevrons with their coveted testimony to every 
 man's, woman's and child's '99 percentage in the importance 
 of attending class reunions. Here is Phil Winchester al- 
 ready unlimbering his camera, but lamenting his partner, 
 Paul Osgood's non-arrival. And everywhere is evidence 
 of the far-sighted efforts of the local '99 contingent on the 
 Properties Committee : Skeet Tib, Mrs. Musgrove and Mrs. 
 Storrs, and of the Commissary Committee: Dave Storrs, 
 Mrs. Tibbetts and Mrs. Richardson. 
 
 Mrs. Drew and Mrs. Hobbs are engaged in a desperate 
 competition to see which can remove the wrinkles from the 
 greatest number of shirtwaists with that historic Quindecen- 
 nial electric iron before some ridiculously faint-hearted fuse 
 burns out. But Mrs. Benezet can think only of that missing 
 trunk — found, we are glad to say, the next morning. Pap, 
 too, is still minus a dress suit case, lost from the running 
 board somewhere in northern Massachusetts and not to be 
 retrieved even by the most reckless of long distance tele- 
 phone calls until that night. But he has consolation. Pie 
 has only to go out and converse with the fair Lena on the 
 back seat of Buck's car, or chum with her sprightly offspring 
 Leon, who sits erect and .staring on the radiator. Hawley 
 does his duty by the uprising generation by endeavoring to 
 keep a lighted cigarette between the young aristocrat's lips, 
 but Leon is stuffy and will not "pull" properly. 
 
 14 
 
Jim Barney, without a watch, and insisting that "there 
 is no such thing as time" these next five days, is none the 
 less somehow telepathically aware of the passage of said 
 time, for promptly on the stroke of four, as per schedule, 
 he and George Clark line up with Joe Gannon for the in- 
 vestiture of the latter as '99 Field Marshal. 
 
 Says Jim : — 
 
 "Mr. Secretary of the Dartmouth Class of 1899, I pre- 
 sent to you Joseph W. Gannon, gallant leader of the '99 
 Battalion of the Dartmouth Army of Alumni upon the Re- 
 union Fields at Hanover and abroad, distinguished in ser- 
 vice to the Class of '99 as well as to the Royal Baking Pow- 
 der Co. and the public of the United States, for the merited 
 honor of Field Marshal of the Vicennial Reunion of the 
 Class of 1899." 
 
 Says George : — 
 
 "Joseph William Gannon, gallant Marshal of the Class 
 of '99 on all Reunion occasions, by virtue of the authority 
 vesting in me as Secretary of the Class of Ninety-Nine, I 
 hereby confer upon you the title of Field Marshal of this 
 Vicennial Reunion and do invest you with this Field Mar- 
 shal's sash and baton to be by you worn and carried at all 
 times, together with the powers, privileges and emoluments 
 thereto appertaining." 
 
 And with these words he loops over Joe's shoulders the 
 striking green and white regalia, and puts in his hand the 
 baton of authority. 
 
 We breathe more freely, as breathed the Allies when 
 Foch assumed commanding power. How familiar that 
 ringing call of "Fa-a-all in !" 
 
 But this time it is into the waiting line of 2J autos that 
 we "fall" for our sight-seeing tour of Hanover. 
 
 15 
 
The Sightseeing Trip of Hanover 
 
 The sightseeing trip was one of the pleasant features 
 of the reunion. As we proceeded down Main street, which 
 we had so frequently travelled twenty years before, we 
 could almost see our Freshman feet walking that same 
 thoroughfare, perchance hustling to beat out the Chapel 
 bell or walking behind the College band (which our class 
 instituted), as we celebrated some glorious athletic victory. 
 
 Of course the outstanding feature of the parade was 
 the speech of Ikey Leavitt before the historic "frontis- 
 piece" of the old Rood house, which now serves as the 
 porch to one of the residences of Hanover, on Lebanon St. 
 The town fathers knew Ikey's reputation as guard of the 
 exchequer and extractor of revenue, which explains why, 
 in order to preserve this piece of architecture for posterity, 
 they lifted it from the abode of Ikey the collector (when 
 the Rood house was demolished) and transferred it to the 
 house of the town collector of revenue, Tax Collector 
 Chesley. And incidentally the new location was sufficiently 
 inspiring to Ikey to put him on his mettle and cause him 
 to expound one of the longest and best speeches of the re- 
 union. In fact, Ikey would be speaking yet had the mar- 
 shal of the day not ordered us to proceed. Ikey told us 
 of everything which took place in the Rood house while we 
 were in College. The Chesley house is in close proximity 
 to the athletic field which fact added more stimulus to 
 Ikey's propensity to "reminisce", for as he spoke Ikey 
 thought of the tri-collegiates and that famous two-mile run 
 of his in which, at the finish, he had to dodge the hurdles 
 which were being placed for the next race and which caused 
 his classmates to remark that he was first in the hurdles, 
 not last in the two-mile. 
 
 The parade stopped at Long Jim's long — we mean 
 lawn Jim's long, — or, rather, Lawn Jim's long — no Long 
 Jim's lawn, that's IT. And the feed which Long Jim and 
 Mrs.. Jim put up for us will be remembered as long as Jim 
 is Long. 
 
 16 
 
yn , 
 
 Welcome to Arcady 
 
 A Marshal Ably Marshalled 
 
 Ikey on Rood House Porch 
 
 . wv^-^^sb:^MM 
 
 The Tea at Long Tim's 
 
So we came back to Long Jim's, feeling like wander- 
 ers of yore who find, however late their home-coming may 
 be deferred, the cheering lamp alight in some upper window. 
 
 THE RECEPTION AT LONG JIM'S 
 
 The notable social event of the twentieth reunion was 
 the delightful garden party given by Professor and Mrs. 
 Richardson and Registrar and Mrs. Tibbetts to classmates 
 and their wives at the beautiful new Richardson home on 
 Choate Road. Following the motor trip and walk to the 
 Ski Jump, it was the first real gathering of the class since 
 their arrival from all parts of the country, and the beginning 
 of an eventful week. The day was ideal, typical of "Han- 
 over in June," a fitting augury of the coming festivities 
 Hosts and hostesses received their guests with cordial in- 
 formality, giving the keynote to the whole happy occasion. 
 On every side were heard the hearty and joyous greetings 
 of '99ers meeting after years of separation. The dignified 
 colonial home with its beautiful lawn and garden made a 
 charming setting for the gay costumes of the ladies, creat- 
 ing a picture long to be remembered. Tables were artistical- 
 ly arranged and were presided over by Mrs. Joseph Gan- 
 non and Mrs. Warren Kendall. Punch and delicious con- 
 fections were served. Late in the afternoon the guests re- 
 gretfully left, with deep appreciation of the hospitality re- 
 ceived and with the pleasant realization that Ninety-Niners 
 when in Hanover may indeed feel always "At home." 
 
 Lina Lyon Hobbs. 
 
 Supper with the white-coated waiters at the Common, 
 or in the comfortable Grill, or more pretentiously with Perry 
 Fairfield at the Inn. Then back to the bright lights of Mid- 
 17 
 
die Massachusetts, the piano on the porch and the informal 
 rows of chairs on the road beneath. 
 
 Prompt testimony to the busy days of the Music Com- 
 mittee (Win Adams, Willis — of whose unavoidable absence 
 more later — N. P., and Cav.) came in the form of a neat 
 40-page book of "Ninety-Nine's Own Songs" now distrib- 
 uted. "If you can't crow, cackle," was Weary's injunction 
 on the cover. So with Mrs. Kendall at the piano and Ben- 
 nie or Win "crowing" and spurring us on, the rest of us 
 cackled or near-crowed, as the case might be. Mostly the 
 crowd spent the short hour allotted for the "Hum" on the 
 new songs written especially for the Twentieth Reunion. 
 First there was "How, How, How," Sam Occom's way, but 
 sung Win Adams' way ; then the martial theme of "Building 
 a Bridge to ,Berlin" ninety-ninified by George Clark into 
 "Driving our Dodge to Dartmouth ;" "Dear Old Cav," next, 
 made by Pap to carry over into the perfect comradeship of 
 the hour the vibrant sentiment of "Old Black Joe;" "Cheers" 
 and "Old Dartmouth Calls" by K. Beal to give the music of 
 "Smiles" and "Joan of Arc" a local flavor; Donnie's, unfail- 
 ing new contribution to reunion musical literature, this time 
 bidding "Madelon" ring true not to "the whole regiment" 
 but to "Ninety-Nine;" and finally Jim Barney's immortaliz- 
 ing of Bob Johnston's "Straw-be-e-e-ries" call by fitting it 
 to the timely and tuneful tune of "Oh ! How I Hate to Get 
 Up in the Morning." So the ever-growing crowd sang until 
 the light of early evening began to dusk. 
 
 AT THE MOVIES 
 
 I can see us all so vividly sitting by the steps of "our" 
 Massachusetts Hall singing "Strawberries," that gem of 
 Mr. Barney's (or was it "Dear Old Cav" we were sing- 
 
 18 
 
ing?), when suddenly our splendiferous marshal descended 
 upon us bearing gifts — a box of delicious candy for each 
 lady! and shouted "Attention! Everybody! Fa-a-a-11 in! 
 Will the ladies please start at once for the theatre? You 
 will just be in time if you hurry." And we hurried. "Theirs 
 not to reason why." Nor did we stand upon the order of 
 our going, but rushed off arm-in-arm by threes and fours, 
 and the men strolled along to see us there sateiy. Who 
 was to escort us back? As we waited at the door of the 
 theatre, the Ninety-nine men, grouped together, hats held 
 high, sang "Goodnight, Ladies." It was one of the splendid 
 moments for the ladies and a great thrill of pride went 
 through us all to think that these gallant men belonged 
 to us, that we too were Ninety-niners. 
 
 Then we went in to the movie and I am sorry but 
 somehow my impression of the picture so carefully picked 
 out for us is rather hazy. The memory of that beautiful 
 Sunday and Monday seem to have eclipsed it almost en- 
 tirely. It was a picture with a moral I remember — two 
 pictures there were, with two morals. The first had to do 
 with the passing of John Barleycorn — there could have 
 been no method in choosing that for us. Therefore the 
 second picture must have been the appropriate one. It 
 was, if I remember aright, a plea for femininity, also a 
 tip on how to keep a husband. Was there method in 
 choosing that for us? Surely not, for the tip was to keep 
 the village dressmaker very busy and what husband among 
 the Ninety-niners would dare risk urging that? But per- 
 haps it was our bachelor secretary who risked so much — 
 could it have been ? Probably we will never know ! 
 
 After the movies we strolled slowly home to Middle 
 Massachusetts, renewing old friendships and starting new 
 ones as we went, the first opportunity for many of us to 
 begin to know each other, we wives of- tne Ninety-nine 
 men who know and love each other so well. 
 
 19 
 
After we got back to Massachusetts Hall, most of the 
 ladies gathered on the steps for more visiting, but some 
 of us had come a long way to this Twentieth Reunion — 
 two nights on the sleeper — and nature asserted itself. I 
 heard in the morning that the reuning continued almost 
 indefinitely, but, though no one believes it, I still insist that 
 I didn't hear it that night, and I felt so cheated about it. 
 I approved so heartily of Mr. Folsom's sentiments upon the 
 subject of sleep and reunions that I was very, very careful 
 never to miss another minute of that wonderful glorious 
 time. 
 
 Genevieve Benezet. 
 
 The chorus with which we parted from the ladies, 
 "Good-night, ladies, good-night, ladies, We're going to leave 
 you now," merged suddenly in the arid and ominous melody 
 "How Dry I Am." Then hands on shoulders, and in prison 
 lock step to the roar of the ever popular tunes of Jack 
 Sanborn's sonnet "Oh, There's Nineteen Three and There's 
 Nineteen Four," and Donnie's "E-Yip-I-Addy-I-Ay-I-Ay," 
 while the crowd on the Commons and on the streets and 
 Campus watched and listened, the men of '99 trod north- 
 ward, north past the Campus and the lights of College 
 back to the scene of the afternoon tea. The lawn was un- 
 lighted and deserted, but the house shone with welcome. 
 But let Bennie tell it. 
 
 IN JIM'S DUNGEON 
 
 It is peculiarly difficult to perpetuate for the fellows 
 who were there, the scene in Long Jim's den that Saturday 
 
 20 
 
evening, and to describe it, for those who were not, in 
 such a way as to make it seem real to them. 
 
 To me the whole experience remains as the effect of 
 an impressionist picture; — the evening was complete and 
 satisfying. There hung around it an atmosphere, intangible, 
 hard to describe, but very real and characteristic. It was 
 not a succession of incidents, songs and talks. It was a 
 state of mind, full of deep feelings and suppressed emotion. 
 
 To describe it to those who were not there is like send- 
 ing them a snapshot of a Vermont sunset, or letting them 
 see a rose in a sealed glass case. 
 
 Picture, ye recreant or unfortunate ninety-niners, the 
 home of Professor Long Jim, — a beautiful, big, brick struc- 
 ture located half way down the slope that inclines from 
 Webster Avenue (Tute Worthen's house) to Faculty 
 Pond (golf links.) 
 
 There was no road or street there in our days. I 
 think the land was part of the Morse Farm. The house is 
 colonial in style, trimmed with white. It has a spacious, 
 flat lawn on the south side, but on the north the ground 
 falls away, so that the level of the basement floor is that 
 of the soil outside. Across this north side of the house, 
 which is the long way of it, Jim has a big, long room with 
 a high mantel and a fireplace at one end. The floor is of 
 cement, but there are wooden window seats and a long, 
 substantial table surrounded by comfortable chairs. Imag- 
 ine some sixty men, all in younger middle age, sitting, squat- 
 ting, lying around this room. The air is grey with smoke. 
 Out in the hall there is a light, but the only illumination 
 within comes from the fireplace. At one end of the table 
 is a big bowl full of a wonderful liquid. As it was planned 
 on the 2 ist floor of the Singer Building, and a nearly bald- 
 headed ex-pillar of Bartlett Hall is stirring it around with 
 a ladle, I suspect that it runs more than one-half of one 
 percent; but, with July first only a few days off, all of us, 
 ardent drys and wets alike, drink at least one glass. 
 
 21 
 
Here are four or five distinguished college professors, 
 a judge of the Massachusetts Supreme Court, a few pros- 
 perous manufacturers, a collection of Massachusetts' most 
 brilliant and successful lawyers, a red-faced, battle-scarred 
 Major fresh from France, a gray-headed, stocky Captain, 
 ditto, five or six leaders among New England's teachers, 
 a rising author, and some twenty-five business and pro- 
 fessional men. Men who rendered invaluable service to 
 their country in the great war are there, and an atmosT 
 phere of solidity and substantial responsibility pervades 
 the group. 
 
 Yet a moment ago this crowd were roaring out, under 
 the leadership of the judge and a prominent lumber mer- 
 chant, something about "the best damn class" that ever 
 graduated from Dartmouth College, disparaging and casting 
 aspersions upon all subsequent (or previous) classes. Here 
 is a prominent Gothamite, a pillar of the stock exchange, 
 wandering about like a lost soul on the banks of the Styx, 
 telling everyone who will listen the harrowing tale of how 
 his suitcase had been left behind, somewhere on the road 
 from Northampton to Greenfield. He is clad in shorts, — 
 golf stockings, a cap, etc. "All I have," he repeats, mourn- 
 fully, "two hundred dollars' worth of stuff just lost." But 
 he is game. The fun of being here would compensate him 
 for several such losses. See that pair talking together — 
 one the man who has come the greatest distance to attend 
 the reunion, the other a leading educator and deacon of 
 the church. They didn't take much interest in each other 
 in Freshman year, those two. Yet here they are, chatting 
 like long lost brothers. That is the beauty of Ninety-nine 
 and Dartmouth College. It is particularly true of our class. 
 We know each other thoroughly, and knowing, we respect 
 and sympathize, even where we differ. 
 
 A yell at the door : "Yeaa, Franko !" A wild shout 
 as the long-legged Vermonter shakes hands vigorously with 
 
 22 
 
everybody who can get to him. He is unchanged from 
 twenty years ago, save for graying hair. 
 
 Another song; the company is getting a little noisier. 
 See that other couple in close confab. In college they be- 
 longed to rival fraternities and rival class societies. They 
 were on opposite sides of the fence in every fight that came 
 up. Then after graduation, at Ninety-Nine and Dartmouth 
 round-ups, they met, co-operated, and came to know each 
 other for the first time. They are now warm friends. 
 Again typical of Ninety-nine. 
 
 The telephone rings. "Yes, — hey, be quiet a minute, 
 you fellows — what? Pap's suitcase has been found? 
 Great stuff. Coming up by express on next train!" And 
 another wild yell celebrates the event. 
 
 A moment later there is another commotion at the en- 
 trance. A second belated arrival — "Spade" Hey wood, this 
 time. Joyously is he greeted, a cup of the raspberry punch 
 is handed him, and we are quiet again. 
 
 "Now, fellows," says a well-known business man, 
 "turn to page 26 in your song books and sing Pap's song." 
 
 And the sixty voices blended softly in the strains of a 
 familiar melody: 
 
 , "Here are his friends for years well tried and true, 
 Here are his pals at home and football, too. 
 Long have we wished the chance that now we have 
 To hear his classmates' voices singing Dear Old Cav. 
 
 "We're singing, we're singing, with all the love we have. 
 Just hear his old friends' voices calling Dear Old Cav." 
 
 And the battle-scarred veteran of the Meuse-Argonne 
 sat through it, silent, but with a look upon his face that 
 we shall not soon forget. It is given to many to hear praise 
 and adulation, but to few to hear words of such genuine 
 affection from those whom we like best of all to please. 
 
 23 
 
Finally he arose and answered us. His voice was even 
 and restrained, but there was a suppressed feeling that 
 thrilled us, even though it was not expressed. In simple, 
 direct words, straight from the heart "Cav" thanked us. 
 
 Some of those before him had always been his warm 
 partisans and supporters in college days. Others had been 
 among his opponents. Now all that was forgotten. He 
 was our old "Cav" again, and we were giving him the 
 same kind of affectionate hero-worship that we had felt 
 for him in the days when we were freshmen and he had 
 played on the championship varsity team. 
 
 A hush fell upon the crowd; the chatting and visiting 
 were renewed, but it was in a lower key. Herb Collar 
 was mentioned, and the card addressed to George that was 
 found in hi.- coat. Here was "Peddy" telling how ,Bob 
 Croker had promised to come, but had not shown up. Some 
 one else said that "Galush" was in Hanover but that he 
 had driven right by some classmates who had failed to 
 recognize him with his pointed beard. 
 
 Always the talk turned to the absent ones. There 
 was rejoicing over the news that Tom Cogswell and Charlie 
 Adams were at last going to show up. Eddie Skinner was 
 chided for his long absence from reunions. "Fat" Dubois, 
 Bert Boston and Mun Folsom were asked for. It was ex- 
 plained that Killum Dickey has as his boss a Dartmouth 
 man of the class of '94, and that the boss simply ordered 
 Maurice to run the paper for a week while he attended 
 '94's reunion. The evening wore on. There wasn't any 
 breaking up of the party. It just drifted down the street 
 'and melted into the group at Middle Massachusetts, which 
 was reuning continuously. For those of us who believed 
 in going to bed the first day was over. Others, no doubt, 
 were actuated by the spirit that Mun expressed so aptly 
 in 1909. "Oh go to bed and shut up," shouted some one 
 from an adjoining hall to a group of Ninety-niners. "Shut 
 
 24 
 
up yourself," answered Mun. ''I've been going to bed for 
 ten years!" 
 
 Louis P. Benezet. 
 
 The moving picture show did not time its performance 
 exactly right and consequently the ladies found themselves 
 back at Middle Massachusetts a bit before the men. They 
 seemed to mind not a whit, however, but set up a musical 
 all their own with Mrs. Donahue at the piano. This celebra- 
 tion was interrupted only by two stray Ninety-Niners who 
 were not positively identified but were shrewdly judged 
 by the party to have been sent to determine whether it 
 would be discreet to return. This at any rate was Mrs 
 Allen's conclusion. Meanwhile, Mrs. Drew had put to em- 
 barrassed flight a group of youthful but lost reuners who 
 claimed to be representatives of 1916, with a judicial query 
 "What are you doing here in the Old Ladies' Home?" But 
 three other visitors, undergraduates of the cast in "Oh, 
 Doctor," won themselves a welcome by their jovial singing 
 and playing of portions of that lightsome opera to be heard 
 on Monday night. 
 
 The air grew chilly, the day had been long, and the 
 journeying far. One by one the waiting group departed, 
 nor did the men on their return from Long Jim's tarry 
 long themselves. Their judgment was canny, for after 
 that night sleep fled the Vicennial, outcast and outlawed. 
 
 Even this night there were some owls, owls of good 
 will and wisdom, an auto full with George Clark in charge, 
 who rode to the June to meet Tom Cogswell as he pulled in 
 at three Sunday morning. And if you don't believe that 
 the '99 spirit was rampant on that occasion, just turn over 
 the pages and read Tom's letter in the news budget from 
 Vermont. 
 
 25 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE 
 
 Sunday Morning, June 22 
 
 Again to the class of '99 had come irreparable loss in 
 the passing to the life beyond of loved and honored mem- 
 bers. Again in accordance with our custom, for which at 
 each reunion there has been ever sad occasion, we set. 
 aside an hour for our memorial service. 
 
 We gathered Sunday morning in Rollins Chapel, a 
 place dear to us all and sacred because here Dr. Tucker's 
 great message of faith in humanity and love of truth and 
 God, had reached our hearts. The three men who con- 
 ducted the service constituted the Committee who arranged 
 it. "Sleep" was at the organ, and the music lifted our 
 spirits in the midst of our sad commemoration. Good old 
 "Sturt" assisted Montie in the devotional exercise, bringing 
 to us the great truth of the word of God. And Montie in 
 an address that was an inspiration to all, showed how those 
 of our class whom we mourn had contributed to the life 
 of the world. 
 
 In the solemn hour in Rollins Chapel, moved by the 
 sweet associations of the place, by the uplift of the hymns 
 and the words of our spiritual leader, we inwardly gave 
 tender tribute to those most recently deceased, and to all 
 those classmates who, since we entered Dartmouth, have 
 been called to the higher life. 
 
 Leaving the chapel service, with its deep significance, 
 we were still to complete our memorial tribute. With wives 
 and children and guests, our procession moved to the grave 
 of our beloved teacher and honorary classmate, Professor 
 Richardson. As we passed the memorial stone at his grave 
 and formed our quiet circle, we could read the record : 
 
 26 
 
Charles Francis Richardson 
 
 185 1 1913 
 
 Ardent and appreciative lover of literature, 
 Inspired and inspiring teacher, 
 Radiant and responsive friend to men and nature, 
 God-loving and God-reflecting man. 
 
 But our words were few and simple. Joe Gannon's 
 clear and reverent "In memory of Clothespins," as he 
 placed a spray of daisies on the grave, was to us more elo- 
 quent than eulogy or oration could possibly have proved. 
 There was a moment of silence. Then, having honored 
 our beloved dead, w'e left the scene where again an im- 
 pressive memorial tribute had added beauty and strength 
 to our reunion days. 
 
 Elmer W. Barstow. 
 
 MEMORIAL ADDRESS 
 
 Rev. Montie J. B. Fuller 
 
 I am under no illusion as to why you thus honor me 
 today by asking me to talk to you on this occasion. It is 
 not what I am but what I represent that causes you to 
 ask me to do this task. 
 
 I want to base what I have to say on Paul's letter to 
 the Ephesians, Chapter three, Verses 14 and 15. "For this 
 cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is 
 named." 
 
 It is to me a joy that we may have a service like this 
 for it shows that we are thinking more of the spiritual side 
 of life. And at no time in all the experience of life do we 
 think about such things so much as when we gather for an 
 
 27 
 
occasion like this. The men that we love, associated with, 
 are no more. 
 
 The cold mysterious shadows flit back and forth, but 
 there is no sign. As the years go by we shall leave this 
 world of sense, flesh and passion. We begin to feel that 
 this land possesses a reality that we little dreamed of in 
 former years. 
 
 What shall we talk about in these few solemn mom- 
 ents? We might talk about the life of these individual 
 men and their virtues. But the longer I live, I see more 
 clearly that the individual life becomes of the highest 
 value only when related to the whole. Let no one talk 
 about our virtues, for we have none except as related to 
 the whole. I begin to see that wisdom of the Roman 
 Church when she takes a man ; henceforward his identity 
 is with the church and not with self. You can easily see 
 what I mean : human biography traces in a minute way the 
 past ancestors of a man. In sacred biography the prophet 
 arises, gives his message, and is gone. His beginning nor his 
 end is of consequence. In the national, mass life we are 
 too individualistic. The individual is of value only as he 
 ministers to the whole. 
 
 This is the conception I would have you catch. Collar, 
 Eastman, Dearborn, our brothers, lived their lives, but those 
 lives became fruitful and beautiful only as they were a part 
 of the whole. Collar becomes great not because of him- 
 self alone, but because he ministered to the intellectual 
 life of man; Eastman becomes great as he belongs to the 
 great army of teachers; Dearborn as he belongs to the 
 multitude of those obscure spirits who minister to loved 
 ones. You and I become great not as individuals, but be- 
 cause we are parts of a whole. 
 
 And just now when we are on the brink of fateful 
 times does this lesson come home to us. Democracy has 
 won, but democracy does not mean extreme individualism. 
 It means peace and prosperity, happiness only as each in- 
 
 28 
 
dividual part is related rightly to the whole. And as we 
 enter this era, wonderful era, not only individuals but na- 
 tions are to be swept into this world democracy. Nations 
 are to be allowed to express themselves. The moment is 
 fateful. There must something, deep enough in the heart 
 of humanity, be found that may be a common interest 
 around which individuals and nations may crystallize. The 
 Roman government hit upon that common interest in its 
 government. Underneath all the surface expressions of 
 society there runs one unity. That unity is religion, wor- 
 ship. Now we must find it in individual family, national 
 life, else we shall build an imposing structure but to see it 
 fall. 
 
 It may do to start life. without religion. But as the 
 years come and go we see that we lack something. We may 
 have money, education, power, but we feel life is tasteless. 
 In some way that life without religion seems to be turned 
 aside from the main stream of life and at last grows hope- 
 less. 
 
 So with societies and nations. They may be refined, 
 cultured, but they seem to lack vitality and at last wither 
 and die. And so the world can be gathered into one great 
 unity only as it is unified around religion. And as we 
 stand and peer into the shadows where these dear men have 
 gone we realize this. We may be business men, lawyers, 
 doctors, teachers, ministers or day laborers. When we seek 
 to look beyond we are all one. We are equal, a unit asking 
 the same question. 
 
 And of course the religious unity is Christian and 
 being Christian it centers around Christ and the center of 
 Christ's ministry is the cross. If then we are going to make 
 life count it must center in Christ. And if the League of 
 Nations is to count or succeed it must at last appeal to this 
 deepest note in the human life, the worship of God in 
 Christ. Our lives are but the expression of God. The 
 lives of those whose lips are silent were expressions of 
 
 29 
 
God. It may have been conscious or unconscious, but Dear- 
 born in ministrations to his mother, Collar as he ministered 
 to the intellect, or Eastman leading minds to a larger de- 
 velopment, each expressed God to the world. But blessed 
 is the life that may do it in full consciousness and love of 
 that larger life in God. 
 
 Brothers, can't we see that everything else has failed, — 
 business, philosophy, science? I only plead that we give 
 religion a trial. So from this hour let our life find its unity, 
 its expression through Christ. Thus will life become a 
 new, great, expressive consciousness of a new power. This 
 must be so in individual and national life or the horrible 
 tragedy of the past four years will be repeated. 
 
 So truly was the temper of the College Baccalaureate 
 service in accord with that of our own Memorial Service 
 that we must step aside to it for a moment with those of 
 the class who attended. Rev. Ozora S. Davis '89 was the 
 preacher, and as with Montie, his theme was "Fellow- 
 workers with God." "There is no chemistry," said he, "by 
 which noble acts can b6 extracted from low moods, nor 
 are there any means by which high ideals can be frustrated." 
 Again, he said, "The college invests in personality and it 
 expects dividends on its investment." Good doctrines surely 
 for those solid rows of clear-eyed, clean-cut seniors in their 
 caps and gowns to hear. What dividends from them in 
 twenty years? Yes, and from us — now? In the midst of 
 our lighthearted, eager review of those June days let each 
 one pause and answer for himself. 
 
 30 
 
HAPPY HILL PICNIC 
 
 Sunday Afternoon, June 22 
 
 Near the top of the eastern slope of what at the time 
 appeared to be one of the highest, steepest, ruggedest, and 
 in some respects the meanest mountain east of the Rockies 
 stands Happy Hill Cabin of the Dartmouth Outing Club. 
 Here in the most enchanting, inaccessible, and literally 
 breathless part of the mountain, the Class Picnic of the 
 20th Reunion was held on Sunday, June 22nd. 
 
 It began in the morning, very early in the morning. 
 Coincident with the calm which follows the last "straw- 
 berry call," and just precedes the coming of the first streaks 
 of light heralding the dawn, shadowy figures of well known 
 '99ers, with townie attendants, were seen stealing out of 
 -Hanover piled high on an express wagon groaning under 
 a huge load of food, drink and equipment. The wagon was 
 drawn by a sure-footed animal of the mountain climbing 
 breed, especially imported for the task from the Grand 
 Canyon. A wise precaution, as afterward appeared, when 
 horse and wagon were impressed for ambulance service 
 for transporting to the rendezvous and down to the low- 
 lands again a few stout-hearted, but breathless and footsore 
 pilgrims. 
 
 All morning the Ladies Committee, the Executive 
 Committee, Committee George Clark, Committee George 
 Snowden, Committee Weary Wardle, Smelling Committee, 
 Major Cav., Major Johnston, and others too numerous to 
 mention, bent their tireless energies to the task of properly 
 assorting, matching, and mating squads, double files, single 
 files, and unattached 'oxjers, assigning them to such autos 
 as were available for carrying all to the scene of the grand 
 event of the day: the Picnic. 
 
 Promptly at 2 P. M., we were off, via Tuck Drive, 
 the Bridge of Smells, the broad and dusty highway to Nor- 
 
 31 
 
wich, a turn to the left, a jog to the right, again to the left, 
 then on and on, up and up, and up and up, on high gear, 
 on low gear, on no gear, on one's nerve, on one's wife's 
 nerve, on the nerve of the fellow ahead, on the nerve of 
 the fellow behind, on foot, on hands and knees, but still on- 
 ward and upward to the Heaven-created, but man-appointed 
 Spot for our Picnic, Happy Hill Cabin of pleasant mem- 
 ories. 
 
 Such a trail ! From plain to mountain top in three, 
 miles, a sort of Pike's Peak affair, over stone ruts, water 
 bars, grass grown tracks, and, joy of joys for the motorists, 
 an ideal mud and water jump with a beautiful steep bank 
 and tree hazard on the left, or a skid on the right, whichever 
 one preferred. All combined, gave the trip to the rendez- 
 vous just the element of varied uncertainty which made 
 one marvel at his own courage in attempting to drive it in 
 a loaded automobile, but more at the persuasive powers of 
 the genius who could convince one it was possible and made 
 one do it. 
 
 At the end of a roadway on a grassy plateau, the autos 
 were parked, or rather packed, in a very ingenious way. 
 By a deft turn of the wheel, accompanied by a full applica- 
 tion of reverse power, and the assistance of two pilots, one 
 could turn around and head for the take off. 
 
 Here all halted, until the last automobile steamed into 
 the haven of refuge. Some few hopeful souls were looking 
 about for the cabin and the long anticipated lunch. Neither 
 was there. Both were just about an hour's walk further 
 along and up. So on and up we tramped. The lure of the 
 picnic at the top fired the pilgrims with a grim determina- 
 tion to Mount Olympus, and mount it they did. Not as one 
 man, of course, nor by skips and bounds from crag to crag 
 after the manner of the wild mountain goat, but in good 
 order and leisurely, as became serious-minded, middle-aged 
 men and women, bent on doing what they had set out to do. 
 It was not until the last high-heeled shoe had landed its 
 
 32 
 
precious burden on the grassy slope before the cabin that 
 the pilgrims, footsore and breathless, gave themselves over 
 to a silent contemplation of the grandeur of the scene which 
 lay before them. Some of course were seriously concerned 
 about the aching void in their innermost anatomy, and also 
 as to how in the world they were ever going to get down to 
 earth again. 
 
 Tasty lunch, plenty of it, was served under the im- 
 mediate direction of George Clark, assisted by George 
 Snowden, and a corps of volunteer '99ers who waited on 
 the ladies and kiddies. It was just pure reunion, fun, food, 
 and friendly social intercourse. A real picnic out of doors 
 on a delightful June day, in an enchanting spot, far from 
 the crowd, with everybody in high, good spirits determined 
 on enjoying themselves and all carried off in usual '99 
 fashion, without a hitch or accident. 
 
 Returning, the way led down and down, and down, to 
 the valley again. Then along the river to Pompanoosuc, 
 across to Lyme, to Etna, and back to Hanover, where all 
 arrived in due season, covered with dust, filled with food, 
 tired but happy, and all agreed that the Executive Com- 
 mittee had made event No. 2 one of the big, long-to-be- 
 remembered events of the 20th Reunion. 
 
 Owen A. Hoban. 
 
 THE CHANTANT 
 
 In the "time-table to the Ninety-Nine Vicennial" ap- 
 pears at the bottom of the column for Sunday, June 22, 
 1919, this modest notice: "8.30 Chantant, Little Theatre, 
 Robinson Hall." But hidden in this unobtrusive an- 
 nouncement lies a whole epic of dreams and struggles and 
 ultimate triumph. As George Clark tells it: 
 
 33 
 
"The idea of 'The Chantant' was a hand down from the 
 Quindecennial, which really came to life again on the night 
 of November nth, Armistice night, putting pep right back 
 into the whole notion. We worked out the plans by degrees 
 after that night. Needless to say the final results were 
 quite different in some cases from the original concepts. 
 A 'Cafeteria Chantant,' a copy of Pearl's famous food 
 Cafeteria in Washington, with Bobbie Johnston at the pay- 
 ing machine, and '99 and a few friends eating supper at 
 round tables off of square trays, listening to a few stage 
 stunts, under the exigencies of Hanover food problems be- 
 came a food-less program presented to a packed house with 
 the standing room all given away. 
 
 "The history of the playette is a romance of itself. 
 Only its author could do it justice. It began way back 
 with the ambition to some time have Tom Cogswell come 
 to a Round-Up, — then a reunion, and impersonate an old 
 grad. The part of the cop was written for him, but ex- 
 igencies arose from the very start. First there was Tom's 
 travelling in stock and his consequent uncertainty of being 
 able to appear, and then the certainty that the other mem- 
 bers of the company had got to know just where that cop 
 was going to stand every minute he was on the stage and 
 what he was going to do next, began to push Tom out of 
 it as an active participant. But when we all got to Hanover 
 he did take a hand and whip us into stage shape and see 
 that the cop's mustache was properly put on and that the 
 rest of the cast didn't spill the whole rouge pot over their 
 faces. But the author himself under the necessity of these 
 emergencies essayed to fill the role intended for Tom. 
 
 "A passing criticism from Peddie Miller, who hap- 
 pened to sit in at the first reading of the play to the actors, 
 helped to define the moral at the end more sharply. Cig 
 Adams nobly sprang into the role assigned to Willis Hodg- 
 kins upon the receipt of a telegram at the last moment 
 stating that Willis was not on his way as supposed. Thus 
 the playette grew from a one-man sketch to a real morality 
 
 34 
 
with a real company, including a real wife talking as 
 though she were talking to a real husband. 
 
 "Saturday morning was spent in getting the scenery 
 set for the stage at Little Theatre. Pender '97 kindly got 
 Hank Noyes and a bunch of boys connected with the 
 Dramatic Club to do this for us, and Dave Storrs and I 
 rifled the Beta Frat House for the necessary furniture. 
 
 "Then when the crowd got there that mad procession 
 of rehearsals started. They came every moment the pro- 
 gram let up for a breathing spell, and at 6.30 Sunday morn- 
 ing after three hours' sleep Jim Barney woke up the actors, 
 marched them over to Robinson Hall, and put them, half 
 asleep, and entirely grouchy, through their paces before 
 breakfast. They went to the rehearsal, rusty and creaking 
 in the hinges. Jim Rich was already there snatching back 
 a few seconds of his Sunday morning's sleep. After they 
 had been at it a little while Jim was overheard soliloquizing, 
 half-disgustedly and half-proudly : 'Well, I don't believe 
 there were ever before nine fools in a class twenty years 
 out that would get up at seven on Sunday morning of 
 Commencement week after being up nearly all night, to go 
 through a thing like this !' My vision of the reunion is 
 chiefly taken up by these rehearsals and the way Pitt Drew 
 worked to put the play and Chantant through with success. 
 His blue pencil program on a piece of market paper tacked 
 up on the scenery in the wing, with its minute directions 
 with respect to each move was worthy of a photogravure 
 reproduction. 
 
 "You should have seen the tactful way in which Mrs. 
 Hoban and Mrs. Donahue got Donnie and Hobe to early 
 dinner Sunday night, and tried to persuade me, and how 
 I succumbed after Mrs. Dave Parker and two other ladies 
 absolutely refused to let me deposit an armful of sofa 
 pillows inside the Little Theatre. She threw her form 
 dramatically before the door and said I would have to walk 
 over her dead body if I went within. Of course I didn't 
 
 35 
 
want to do that — wouldn't have had the strength to bring 
 it about if I did want to — so I gracefully gave up the pil- 
 lows and followed Hobe and Donnie." 
 
 Chant ant Program 
 
 I. Star Spangled Ban- 
 ner 
 
 II. Illustrated Song 
 "Arcady" 
 
 III. Faculty Follies — 
 Reminiscences 
 
 IV. Grieg's Wedding 
 
 March 
 Encore — How Dry I 
 
 Am 
 
 Ladies' Surprise 
 
 Song 
 
 V. "Ninety-Nine" by 
 C. H. Donahue. 
 "Dartmouth Calls" 
 by K. Beal 
 
 VI. A Four Minute Ad- 
 dress 
 
 VII. "Ninety-Nine Up or 
 Pet's Waistcoat," a 
 morality playette 
 
 VIII. "Cheers" by K. Beal 
 "Cav" by A. M. Ab- 
 bott 
 
 Mrs. Allen at piano 
 Paul Clark, '19, violin 
 W. B. Adams, leading 
 
 W. B. Adams 
 
 Mrs. Kendall at piano 
 
 Paul Clark, '19, violin 
 
 L. P. Benezet 
 
 / 
 Mrs. L. P. Winchester 
 
 The Ninety-Nine Trouba- 
 dours 
 
 Pres. E. M. Hopkins 
 
 Written for the occasion 
 by C. H. Donahue and 
 presented by an all star 
 ninety-nine cast 
 
 The Ninety-Nine Trouba- 
 dours 
 
 36 
 
IX. Tales from the Maj. F. W. Cavanaugh 
 
 Trenches 
 
 X. "A Lecture on Geo- Prof. Howie Cann Kilgal- 
 
 logy" Ion 
 
 Robert P. Johnston, Au- 
 thor and Impersonator 
 
 XI. Ninety-Nine Mile- To have been given by 
 
 stones illustrated Paul Osgood and par- 
 
 with Lantern slides tially given by G* G. 
 
 Clark 
 
 XII. "Dartmouth, Our W. B. Adams 
 
 Dartmouth," illus- Mrs. Kendall at piano 
 
 trated Paul Clark, '19, violin 
 
 It would be impossible to do full justice to the above 
 remarkable program save by the combined services of vic- 
 trola, biograph, dictograph, and a volume of really startling 
 dimensions. The "Morality Playette" and "A Lecture on 
 Geology" will be found printed entire just a bit farther on 
 in the Report, together with a special criticism of the play 
 by our expert, Professor Jerry. Aside from these things, 
 we shall have to content ourselves with a brief epitome of 
 the ten other scintillating numbers. 
 
 The musical talent displayed by the Class and the 
 Class wives and friends stands out all through the list of 
 attractions offered. Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Kendall, as ac- 
 companists, Mrs. Winchester as piano soloist, Win Adams 
 as vocal soloist and Troubadour leader, the Troubadours 
 themselves, all received and deserved liberal applause. The 
 voluntary assistance of Paul Clark '19 as violinist was es- 
 pecially appreciated. Those present will be interested in 
 the fact that the Executive Committee later presented him 
 with an attractive mug as an expression of their gratitude. 
 There is in the '99 files a cordial note in return in which he 
 insists that he had been "already amply repaid by enjoying 
 
 37 
 
the fun and rare spirit of that Sunday night." The songs 
 on the program had all been sung of course in the "Hum" 
 on Massachusetts Porch and in Long Jim's Dungeon the 
 night before, — all except one, — the "Ladies' Surprise Song." 
 
 This ditty was composed, so nearly as can be ascer- 
 tained on Sunday afternoon by Mrs. Peddie Miller, re- 
 hearsed in secret, and unannounced on any program, but 
 "sprung" on the Committee and audience by the neatest of 
 devices. For when Mrs. Winchester after a notable ren- 
 dering of Grieg's Wedding March returned as was supposed 
 to give an encore, she struck her listeners dumb by striking 
 the opening chords of "How Dry I Am." Then a chuckle 
 passed around, followed immediately by more amazement, 
 for forty ladies (the very cream of the audience, be it said, 
 with all due respect to other visitors) arose in their places 
 and proceeded to "line up" in front of the stage with ex- 
 pressions ranging from most ingenuously innocent to most 
 tantalizingly suggestive. 
 
 Another chord. The impromptu chorus assumed dig- 
 nity and poise, Mrs. Peddie stepped a bit out from the line 
 to mark the time, and this is what we heard, to the tune of 
 "There were ninety and nine." 
 
 Ninety and Nine 
 
 There were ninety and nine of the nicest men 
 
 Who called us to Dartmouth green; 
 
 And they were the very smartest men 
 
 The college has ever seen. 
 
 Over the mountains and through the plain 
 
 Their call kept coming again and again, 
 
 Their call kept coming again and again, 
 
 And it brought us out of the East and the West 
 
 To the college we love the best. 
 
 38 
 
They gave us candy and shows and sings 
 
 And all sorts of other things, 
 
 And they gave us teas and mountain breeze, 
 
 And sunshine in campus and trees. 
 
 So here is our thanks for all the fun 
 
 They have filled in the day from sun to sun. 
 
 So here we sing to the magic three, 
 
 The three times three and three times three. 
 
 That makes the glorious ninety-nine, 
 
 The class that is so FINE. 
 
 ,But we must proceed in some order. There was the 
 sudden display of a big American flag on the stage in the 
 beginning as Field Marshal Joe Gannon welcomed the 
 Faculty and other reuning classes and summoned them to 
 sing the National Anthem. Then there was Win Adams 
 with that classic song of his and George Clark's "Arcady." 
 And Bennie overflowed with more of his sparkling rem- 
 iniscences, — this time aptly headlined as "Faculty Follies," 
 at which the befooled Faculty laughed as heartily as any. 
 Look ahead a few pages and you will find Bennie's letter 
 about it. 
 
 While the Troubadours were singing "Ninety-Nine" 
 and "Old Dartmouth Calls" the Executive Committee and 
 the Marshal were in a state approaching nervous prostration 
 at the non-arrival of Prexy Hopkins. But as the last echo 
 of the Troubadours died away in he strode, nonchalantly 
 enough, from the organ recital, calmly said, "Sure," to Joe's 
 tense "Ready?" and while Jerry showed Mrs. Hopkins to a 
 seat, stepped up on the stage. He spoke warmly of the way 
 the reunion classes were standing for the best in Dartmouth's 
 traditions and ideals and blazing new paths of service for 
 the College. And the cordial slogan with which he closed, 
 "None more than Ninety-Nine," brought a cheer. 
 
 As for the Playette you must read for yourself the 
 author's copy and Jerry's critique before mentioned to get 
 even the faintest conception of the stir it made. It was 
 
 39 
 
without question one of the happiest crosses between fact 
 and fancy ever devised, as subtle and delightful a human 
 compound as the evasive humour of its author. Called to 
 the front of the stage at the curtain drop by the "Author! 
 Author !" shouts of the delirious audience, he took with an 
 air of meek humility what he innocently claimed to be the 
 indignant shrieks of "Awful ! Awful !" 
 
 Yet after this climax of appeal the Committee's re- 
 sourceful program reminded one of a journey through the 
 wonders of a vast Rocky Mountain region, where every 
 corner-turn reveals unthought-of marvels. 
 
 So came now the Troubadours again, 
 
 "We're singing, we're singing, with all the love we have, 
 Just hear his old friends calling, Dear Old Cav." 
 
 And just as had been the case the previous night in 
 Long Jim's '99 cellar, so now, the deep and genuine feeling 
 which Pap had put into his song when he composed it 
 months before on the news of Cav's desperate wound 
 gripped singers and listeners alike. 
 
 But Cav relieved at once the tension which deep feeling 
 provokes by announcing that he was under contract to 
 say nothing serious whatsoever. And so in happy vein he 
 delivered a regular machine gun fusillade of yarns, every 
 one with a bright spot. There was the stalwart, self-called 
 "conscienceless objector" whose prejudices were tactfully 
 overruled by giving him a gun and leaving the use of it to 
 his judgment when he found himself at the front. And 
 there was the darkey soldier "over there" who was asked 
 what he would do if he found himself unexpectedly in the 
 thick of a heavy artillery engagement. "Well," said he, "if 
 the first shell misses, all the rest will fall short!" 
 
 The counterpart of this tale was this same darkey's 
 inquiry of his former interlocutor: "And what will you do 
 if you hear that ten thousand Germans are headed your 
 way with bayonets fixed?" 
 
 40 
 
"Do ? Why, I shall certainly think it my duty to spread 
 the news broadcast through France." 
 
 And so twenty other anecdotes as good. 
 
 But we must pass to Prof. Howie Cann Kilgallon with 
 his "Lecture" on Geology." The author of the lecture, and 
 the impersonator of the professor, needless to say was our 
 own inimitable Bob, now a long-cloaked, bewhiskered, be- 
 nevolent old investigator, with ingratiating manners and a 
 table full of priceless relics whose likes are not to be found 
 elsewhere in the world. During his lecture the audience 
 doubled up (not in numbers, for the hall was already 
 packed) but with the fun of it, and spasms of laughter ran 
 around the room like windshadows chasing each other over 
 a squally lake. 
 
 It is getting to be a fact that no Dartmouth crowd can 
 get together nowadays without one of '99's picture talks. 
 Paul Osgood was to have given the talk this time, but since 
 he was nursing a crippled auto near Boston, it became an- 
 other case of the famous "Let George do it." The hour 
 was late and George shut his eyes to some of the "mile- 
 stones" and his ears to the protests of his listeners. But in 
 turn, after Bob's "Professor Spiel" will be found the full set 
 of live comments as originally planned on the selected one 
 hundred and one pictures that were to be displayed. 
 
 Finally, with a new illustrated rendering of "Dart- 
 mouth, Our Dartmouth," the most notable of '99's always 
 ambitious programs came to a close. The words 
 "Thine is a noble site, 
 Hill, wood and stream unite 
 To grace the scene" and 
 "Men come with autumn's glow, 
 Men work through winter's snow, 
 Men proud, like Spring, to show 
 Thy color green" 
 gave the slide makers ample chance for picturesque illus- 
 tration. And the new version leaped at once in popular 
 approval to a place beside Arcady. 
 
 41 
 
NINETY NINE UP 
 
 or 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A WAISTCOAT 
 
 A Morality Playette in One Act 
 
 TIME: Sunday Morning of 1919 Commencement. 
 
 PLACE: Room 19, Second Floor, Middle Massachu- 
 setts Hall. 
 
 THE CAST 
 
 John W. Smith. 
 
 Pormerly called Buck Smith, of the Class of 
 IS '7 '4, who nurses a 4.5-y ears-old grouch against 
 all things Dartmouth. He believes that there is 
 no such thing as class spirit. He has made a lot 
 of money, but hasn't had time, as he thinks, for 
 things like sentiment. A hardheaded, narrow, 
 testy old codger who, in scooping in the coin, has 
 missed the finer things of life. He's a pretty 
 old dog to learn new tricks but he isn't beyond 
 salvation, nobody is for that matter, and if he 
 had a chance to see things right, might possibly 
 discover that he has a heart and become a regu- 
 lar fellow. So don't be surprised if he wakes up 
 and discovers that there isn't any more wonder- 
 ful thing in the world than the spirit of a good 
 Dartmouth Class. We can't give the whole thing 
 
 42 
 
away right here at the beginning, it isn't done 
 by our best dramatists, but it might pay you to 
 keep an eye on him. 
 
 Mr. James Leonard Barney. 
 
 Jerry Jones. 
 
 Also of the class of 18/4. A Dartmouth en- 
 thusiast, strong in class spirit. He hasn't salted 
 away as many hard, dollars as his classmate 
 Smith but he has stored up barnsful of happiness 
 from his class association. It has been a great 
 big thing in his life, something that has grown 
 along with him from youth to old age, and will 
 be with him till he dies. He is a fine mellow* 
 old boy and it's too bad you can't know him bet- 
 ter, but he isn't the hero of this particular drama. 
 
 Mr. George Gallup Clark. 
 
 Robby Robinson '99. 
 
 So extremely married that he is called "Pet" 
 by his wife, but, or therefore, expecting to have 
 the time of his life while attending his 20th re- 
 union without her. When he was in College he 
 was, well, a little lively, but since his marriage 
 six years ago he has become thoroughly halter 
 broke. You know after six years of continuous 
 honeymoon a man is apt to be a little dizzy 
 when alone on a vacation, but there's no real 
 harm in him. He's the kind of fellow that's al- 
 ways getting into a scrape but somehow or other 
 always getting out. As we said before it isn't 
 quite the thing to tip you off as to what's coming, 
 but this isn't a regular professional show and 
 we don't mind telling you now, that, though 
 things may look pretty tough for him at times 
 he'll come out all right. This is a they-all-lived- 
 
 43 
 
happy-ever-after play, like all plays that are any 
 good. You zvould guess, anyway, that it is go- 
 ing to end happily and we make no bones of 
 telling you so. 
 
 Mr. Owen Albert Hoban. 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 Robby's wife. ■ Unexpectedly detained at home 
 by the illness of her mother, and regretfully ob- 
 liged to let her husband go to the reunion alone, 
 the first time they have been separated since their 
 wedding day. But she manages to arrive in Han- 
 over later and complicates matters. This whole 
 mix-up, we prophesy, is going to do her a lot of 
 good. She thinks she doesn't care for '99 but 
 may be thafs because she's a little jealous of it. 
 Like very many things in life it's because she 
 don't know the class that she don't care for 
 it. The fundamental thing in the philosophy of 
 the class is that if you know men well, you will 
 like them, that is, most men. The class union 
 makes the men know each other well and when 
 they do that why they can't help sort of — well, — 
 liking each other. Of course Mrs. Robinson 
 doesn't get all of this but she gets a pretty fair 
 idea of it as this play goes on. 
 
 Mrs. Mabel Swain Drew. 
 
 Hen Sargent. 
 
 Hanover Chief of Police, and one-half the en- 
 tire constabulary of the town. An old subscriber 
 to the Old Sleuth Library, a little too anxious 
 perhaps to stick to the exact text. Despite his 
 high official position he is still a typical towny. 
 He looks upon a stoodent as 7/9 child and 1/9 
 devil, remaining 1/9 unclassified. A member of 
 
 44 
 
the faculty he looks upon as absolutely harmless, 
 a bit eccentric, not entirely human but yet en- 
 titled to a certain amount of respect. The only 
 authority on earth that he recognizes is the Board 
 of Selectmen. 
 
 Mr. Charles Henry Donahue. 
 
 The Waistcoat. 
 
 Made for Robinson by his wife with her own 
 hands. She is color blind. It is a hideous en- 
 semble of insulting reds and abnormal greens. 
 It is worn by him., at least it is supposed to be 
 zvorn by him, in accord with a solemn promise 
 made on leaving home as a token of his fealty 
 and love. 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 A Ninety-niner. Just as natural as life, in re- 
 union tall hat and duster. 
 
 Mr. Theobald Andrew Lynch. 
 
 Cigarette Adams. ] 
 
 Another Ninety-niner, more natural if possible 
 than Tim. Likewise proudly wears '99 duster 
 and hat. 
 
 Mr. Winburn Bowdoin Adams. 
 
 Prof. Richardson. 
 
 Jim himself. First, last and all times a '99 
 man. Incidentally a Professor of Law. Dressed 
 in the inevitable '99 duster and tall hat. 
 
 A Voice. 
 
 Mr. James Parmelee Richardson. 
 
 This is Pitt Drew's, and only appears, or, is 
 
 45 
 
heard, rather, once. The rest of the time the 
 voice will be pretty busy from the prompter's box, 
 but the audience is supposed to hear it only once. 
 
 The Stage. 
 
 A student's room in Middle Massachusetts 
 Hall. Walls adorned according to conception of 
 the Artists who draw for Judge and Life, with 
 College banners, stolen sign boards, "3 miles to 
 Skunk Hollow/' "This way to the Zoo," "No 
 Trespassing" etc., etc. Rear wall has two win- 
 dows, opening on lawn, and a window seat. Door 
 at left leading from corridor. Door at right 
 leading to the bedroom. Chair, Table Piano, etc. 
 Hat tree in rear at left. A coiled rope fire escape 
 hangs conspicuously at right of window. 
 
 The Curtain. < . 
 
 Rising discloses Robinson sleeping on couch. 
 Coat and shoes off but otherwise fully dressed. 
 The Waistcoat looms up like a lighthouse in a 
 fog. One shoe on table, other carefully hung 
 on hat tree. Hat on chair. He is sleeping like 
 a man who turned in very, very late; like a man 
 who perhaps cannot remember in the morning 
 every single thing which happend^ the night be- 
 fore but yet knozvs that he had a very nice time, 
 different dont you know, than he has had for 
 some years past. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 His voice is heard in the corridor indistinctly 
 grumbling at Jones before you see him, but final- 
 ly you hear him say : — 
 
 "No, Siree, I am not glad to be in Hanover 
 again. {They enter, Smith dressed in auto dus- 
 
 46 
 
ter, cap and goggles. Jones attired like any old 
 fellow 4-5 years out of college. Robinson con- 
 tinues to sleep.) You've made me break the vow 
 I swore at our Commencement 45 years ago nev- 
 er to set foot in Hanover again. I drove around 
 Hanover on purpose and if my machine hadn't 
 had that accident in Norwich and hurt my ankle 
 and if you hadn't come along and dragged me 
 over here, I would now be perfectly happy. Han- 
 over ! Bah ! I hate the place. You say the 
 bank was robbed last night. I'm surprised that 
 any decent burglar would come to a town like 
 this." {He limps a little. He is thoroughly dis- 
 gusted and evidently intends to remain so. He 
 plants himself in arm chair at left front of stage 
 and stays there most of the time throughout the 
 play. Pretty soon Jones, too, sits down in a 
 chair at the right front of stage and stays there. 
 (You see Smith and Jones are really an audience 
 before whom the action of the play takes place 
 just as much as the real audience. It is hoped 
 that Jones, as the play goes on, may be able, by 
 his own expressions of approval when the actors 
 are hitting the high spots to bluff the real audi- 
 ence into applauding a little. Of course that's 
 a pretty forlorn hope, but there doesn't seem to 
 be any harm in giving it a try.) 
 
 Jones. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 (Both timidly and beamingly at the same time ) 
 — "At any rate you'll be glad to meet the fifteen 
 men back from our dear old class of '74." 
 
 "Dear old class of '74 be hanged! What did 
 the dear old class ever do for you- or for me or 
 for anyone else? You are as big a fool as ever, 
 
 47 
 
Jones. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 Jerry. Still making believe, still dreaming there 
 is such a thing as class spirit, I suppose." 
 
 (Gently but with resolution.) — "I'm not 
 dreaming, Buck. There is such a thing and it's 
 one of the greatest things in the world." 
 
 ''The silliest thing in the world ! You remem- 
 ber how I called down our class at our Com- 
 mencement dinner for the tobacco smoking, to- 
 bacco chewing, worldly minded, frivolous young 
 men they were. You know how they jeered at 
 my motion to substitute sweet fern for tobacco 
 at the silly pipe smoking at the old pine. I said 
 then and I say now, that the only class spirit 
 there is, is the spirit of silly evil and unprofitable 
 iniquity. It's all tommy rot." (Jones starts to 
 reply but seeing Smith's attitude of finality, 
 pauses to select precisely the right words to re- 
 sume the discussion in order not to irritate 
 Smith further.) 
 
 (He has stirred once or twice uneasily, but 
 Smith's voice, which has been raised in the last 
 tirade wakes him more. He thinks he recog- 
 nizes the conventional conclusion of a curtain 
 lecture by his beloved wife and half awake says 
 conventionally and sleepily and deprecatingly.) 
 "Very well, Lucy dear, very well." (Smith and 
 Jones observe Robinson for the first time and he 
 sees them.) 
 
 (Rising.) — "Oh, I beg pardon, I thought for 
 a minute that I was back home." (Rubs his eyes, 
 and automatically seeks the consolation of ' a 
 cigarette.) 
 
 48 
 
Smith. 
 
 (After slowly surveying with increasing dis- 
 approval the shoe on the table, the shoe on the 
 hat-rack, the hat on the floor, the vest and the 
 cigarette which Robinson is lighting, looks at 
 Jones and says sarcastically.) — "Class spirit !" 
 (From now on Smith at every opportunity, and 
 he has a lot of them, gives visible and audible in- 
 dication of his hatred of cigarettes.) 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 (Enthusiastically , not noticing the sarcasm.) — 
 "Isn't it great! I haven't been so happy for five 
 years. It's like going to heaven to come back 
 here with '99, nly class you know." 
 
 Jones. 
 
 "We're — that is, I'm '74. I seem to have been 
 assigned a room in the '99 dormitory." 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 "That's all right. Glad to have you here. My 
 name's Robinson. (They shake hands. Smith 
 ignores them.)— Nobody ever had a better time 
 than I had last night, that is, so much of it as I 
 can remember. Oh, Boy! What a night! — 
 (Recollects himself and says somewhat hypo- 
 critically.) But of course I'm sorry my wife 
 isn't here. She's never been in Hanover. Don't 
 think much of Dartmouth or the Class. She was 
 all ready to come this time when her mother was 
 taken sick." ' 
 
 Jones. 
 
 (Dryly, taking the shoe from the table and 
 handing it to Robinson.) — "Perhaps it's all for 
 the best." (He stares at the vest.) 
 
 49 
 
Robinson. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 "My wife is the finest woman in the world but — 
 I see you're looking at my vest. She made it; 
 every stitch of it. But she's color blind. (Sits 
 on couch to put on shoes.) She made me promise 
 that I'd wear it every minute while I was away. 
 (Sentimentally.) Made by her, to wear next my 
 heart all the time, you know. (Proudly.) Just 
 like dear Lucy ! I wouldn't have her see me with- 
 out it for the world, no, sir, not for ten worlds.' 
 But {rising, takes off vest) as long as she isn't 
 here there's no harm in my leaving it off till I 
 start home. I wouldn't hurt her feelings — but be- 
 tween you and me it is a bit loud. I'd be a happy 
 man if my wife wasn't color blind and if she 
 knew and loved Dartmouth College and the Class 
 of '99 as I do. I guess I'll wash up." (Hangs up 
 vest on hat rack and goes through bedroom door 
 at right.) 
 
 "His wife is a smart woman in some ways if 
 she does have such poor taste in picking waist- 
 coats and husbands." 
 
 Jones. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 "Let me take your coat, Buck." (Hangs it up 
 on hat-rack over the waistcoat. This calls for 
 great artistry and delicate nuances of expression 
 on the part of Jones. The audience must ap- 
 preciate that covering the Waistcoat is important, 
 and yet Jones shouldn't go at the job like a bull 
 at a bridge.) 
 
 "I'm not going to stay here very long. It 
 makes me mad to see the fool stunts of the alum- 
 ni. They act like boys." . 
 
 50 
 
Jones. 
 
 "They are boys when they get back to Han- 
 over." (Smith still snorting with disgust over 
 the last remark when Lynch and Adams enter 
 briskly through door at left and look about the 
 room. They ought, if they can, to look kind of 
 anxious, because as matter of fact they know 
 Robinson is apt to get into trouble about the oc- 
 currences of the night before.) 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 "Is Robinson '99 here?" 
 
 Jones. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Cop. 
 
 "He's in there." (pointing to bedroom.) (En- 
 ter Cop through door at left, looks around the 
 room with insufferable air of omniscience. Ex- 
 amines rug with large magnifying glass. Looks 
 under window seat. Lifts table scarf up and 
 looks under. Manoeuvres to see waistcoats of 
 others. Humming all the while, out of tune, 
 "Sweet Marie/' Looks everywhere except hat- 
 rack. All watch him for a while as he applies 
 the approved methods of a stagy stage detective. 
 Tim and Cig are obviously worried.) 
 
 (Testily, with a subconscious reversion to antip- 
 athy of undergraduate days.) — "Well! Well! 
 Since when did townies come snooping around 
 the college dormitories?" 
 
 (Offensively.) — "Official business, old boy, of- 
 ficial business !" (Throws lapel of coat back and 
 shows big shiny star.) 
 
 51 
 
Smith. 
 
 Cop. 
 
 {More irritated.} — "What are you, a tin 
 peddler ? ,; 
 
 "I'm the Hanover Chief of Police. I have 
 orders from Selectman Tibbetts to go through 
 all the students' rooms." 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 (Ingratiatingly .) — "What's the trouble, chief ?" 
 (Robinson has come to door with towel wiping 
 face and listens; at first smiling, gradually 
 changing to an expression of alarm.) 
 
 Cop. 
 
 (In best official manner.) — "At 2.23 A. M. this 
 morning the Hanover National Bank was burg- 
 larized. (Tim calls Jones aside and whispers to 
 him. Jones points to hat rack. If this is cutely 
 done and the audience is not by this time asleep, 
 it is hoped they will understand that Jones is 
 telling Tim that the vest is on the hat-rack.) Yes, 
 sir, the bank was robbed and $20,000 taken. The 
 police now have the matter well in hand. The 
 entire force is at work. The two of us have been 
 busy all morning and I expect shortly to have an 
 interesting announcement to make to the press." 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 (Anxiously.) — "Do you suspect any one?" 
 
 Cop. 
 
 "You bet! The robber was seen leaving the 
 premises by Joe Filio and the Precinct, and the 
 public may rest assured that this desperate crim- 
 inal will soon be in the Grafton County Jail. 
 (Confidentially.) We have a clue." (All except 
 Robinson crowd around the Cop.) 
 
 52 
 
Cig Adams. 
 
 Cop. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Cop. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Jones. 
 
 (Giving cop a cigar to get some more dope.) — 
 "Fine work, Chief." 
 
 (Tucking away the cigar with the ease and 
 aplomb which officers of the law acquire.) — 
 "Not bad. (Confidentially.) The robber wore a 
 red vest with green stripes." (Robinson leans 
 for an instant against the door jamb for support. 
 Looks longingly toward the hat rack which is out 
 of his reach. Goes back hurriedly into bedroom. 
 Tim steps, protectingly, over to hat tree.) 
 
 (Eagerly.) — "What kind of stripes?" 
 
 "Don't worry, old man, I looked at your vest 
 the first thing when I came in." (Cop flicks 
 imaginary bit of dust off his coat sleeve, and 
 gives various indications of being perfectly satis- 
 fied with himself.) 
 
 (Rising.) — "A red vest with green stripes! 
 Well you came to the right place." (Jones, Tim, 
 and Cig surround Smith and try to silence him. 
 Robinson sneaks in, and takes rope fire escape 
 into bedroom. It is perfectly plain to anyone in 
 the audience but a darn fool that he proposes to 
 go out the bedroom window and down the rope.) 
 
 "Sit down, Buck, you'll hurt your ankle." 
 (Pushes him down in chair.) 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 (To cop.)— "He's a little off, poor fellow. Al- 
 ways was." (Smith glares at him.) 
 
 53 
 
Jones. 
 Cop. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Cop. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Jones. 
 
 (Taps his head, sympathetically.) 
 
 (Breaking through the others.) — "In the name 
 of the Law! (To Smith.) Where is he?" 
 
 (Tries to speak while others boo him down. 
 Manages to point to the bedroom.) 
 
 (Rushes into bedroom, stays long enough for 
 Tim conspicuously to take the waistcoat from 
 the hat tree and tuck it under his coat, and then 
 dashes out again.) — "He's gone out the window 
 and down a rope. By heck I'll catch him yet." 
 (Hurries out the door at left.) 
 
 (To Jones and Cig.) — "Why did you try to 
 stop me telling about that criminal ?" 
 
 (Surprised at the question.) — "Why he is a 
 Dartmouth man." 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 'Besides that, he's a '99 man." 
 
 Smith. 
 
 (Really surprised.) — "Would you protect him 
 from the police because he is a '99 man?" 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 "Of course! I don't think he meant to take 
 the money. But he certainly acted a little strange 
 last night. You remember (to Tim) how he in- 
 sisted on doing a dance on the roof of Mus- 
 grove's block." 
 
 54 
 
Tim Lynch. 
 
 "Yes. And that was odd the way he tried to 
 get in a window at the post-office, saying he 
 wanted to cash a check." 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 (Rushes in from door at left leading from cor- 
 ridor with telegraph blank in his hand. Dashes 
 over to the hat tree and sees vest gone.) — 
 "Where is the vest that I promised my dear wife 
 I wouldn't take off?" 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 (Who took it a while ago, after looking care- 
 fully at hat tree.) — "It doesn't seem to be there." 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 "This is terrible." (Hands telegram to Tim.) 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 (Reading.)— "Dear Pet." 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 (Grmns.)— "That's me." 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 (Continues reading.) — "Dear Pet, Mother bet- 
 ter. Will be in Hanover Sunday morning. 
 
 Lucy." 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 "Cheer up old fellow. The cop hasn't got you 
 yet." 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 "No and he hasn't caught you with the red 
 and green vest on either." 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 (Desperately.)— "I wouldn't care if the cop 
 did catch me with the vest on. What worries me 
 is that my wife may catch me with the vest off." 
 
 55 
 
Tim Lynch. 
 
 (Who has been at window.) — "The cop is com- 
 ing. Hide." 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 (Calmly.) — "Let him come. He might help 
 me to find the vest." 
 
 Voice. 
 
 (From outside.) — "Oh Robby, Mrs. Robinson 
 is here." (Rdbinson looks like a rabbit a jump 
 and a half ahead of the hound.) 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 (Looking out.) — "She's coming all right." 
 (Robinson who has been undisturbed on hearing 
 of the cop's advent registers extreme fear on 
 learning that his dear wife approaches and rushes 
 madly into the bedroom.) 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 (Who has followed him to the bedroom door, 
 reports.) — "He's gone down the rope again." 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 (Hastily, putting on vest.) — "That cop will be 
 here in a minute. I'm going to put on the darned 
 old vest and let him take me." 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 "No, let me do it. I look more like a burglar." 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 "Not on your life, I saw it first." (Puts it on. 
 Smith watches this with dawning appreciation 
 or something like that). 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 (Enters through door at left.) — "Is this Mr. 
 Robinson's room?" 
 
 56 
 
Cig Adams. 
 
 (After a pause, brazenly in the hopes of get- 
 ting rid of her.) — "No ma'am. There's no Mr. 
 Robinson here." 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 "But I was told this was his room. (Looking.) 
 and there's his bag. He must have been here and 
 gone." 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Cop. 
 
 (Maliciously.) — "He's gone all right and with- 
 out his vest." 
 
 (Enters and hearing the word "vest" suspic- 
 iously.) — "Where is the man with the vest?"^ 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 "What do you want him for?" 
 
 Cop. 
 
 "Because he robbed the bank, by Gravy ! That's 
 why I want him." 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 (Looking wildly around, sees Tim who is os- 
 tentatiously dismaying the vest.) — "There's a 
 man with my husband's vest on. {Continuing 
 with true feminine intuitive logic.) He must have 
 killed Clarence, stolen his vest and robbed the 
 bank." 
 
 Cop. 
 
 (Dramatically.) — "At last!" (Seizes Tim.) 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 (With apparent guilt but defiantly.) "All 
 right. But you'll have to prove it. I've got the 
 best lawyers in Massachusetts, Pitt Drew, Alvah 
 Sleeper and Fred Walker. They are looking up 
 the law on the case now." 
 
 57 
 
Cop. 
 
 (Dragging Tim off.) "Judge Burton will tend 
 to you and I guess the town counsel, Horace Pen- 
 der, will take care of your Massachusetts law- 
 yers." 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 (To Tim.) — -"What have you done with Clar- 
 ence, you murderer ?" 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 (Soothingly.) — "He's all right, Mrs. Robin- 
 son. Don't worry that I would harm my dearest 
 friend and life long companion." 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 (Following Cop and Tim off the stage through 
 door at left.) "You wretch. My Clarence has 
 no bank robbers and murderers among his 
 friends." 
 
 Jones. 
 
 "Can nothing be done to get Robinson out of 
 this scrape?" 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know what can be done to 
 save him from his wife, but I guess the class of 
 '99 can protect him from the cop." 
 
 Prof. Richardson. 
 
 (Enters through door at left in his own per- 
 son, grim business like.) — "Robby here?" 
 
 Smith. 
 
 (Somewhat lightly but still disapproving.)— 
 "He's about due back. He goes out the window 
 and in the door every few minutes." 
 
 Prof. Richardson. 
 
 (To Cig.)— "Is he all right?" 
 
 58 
 
Cig Adams. 
 
 "Oh yes, but he's dreadfully worried." 
 
 Prof. Richardson. 
 
 "About the police getting him?" 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 "No, about Mrs. Robinson seeing him." 
 
 Prof. Richardson. 
 
 (Officially.) "Well, the class is holding a meet- 
 ing over by the Tuck School. We're going to 
 mortgage on my house. Joe Gannon is going to 
 raise the $20,000, and Mussy is going to sneak it 
 back into the bank so the whole thing will be 
 thought a mistake." 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 "Can we raise it?" 
 
 Prof. Richardson. 
 
 "I hope so. Of course it's hard to raise all 
 that money up here. Sleeper has sold his car 
 and got $2000. Luke Varney has borrowed 
 $2500 from C. P. Chase. N. P. Brown has tele- 
 graphed Governor Coolidge for a 3 months' ad- 
 vance on his salary as judge. I'm negotiating to 
 lift $4ooo from the Athletic fund. Warren has 
 gone down to Norwich to get all the money the 
 station agent has and telegraphed to Washington 
 for more, and everybody else is digging deep. 
 Second hand automobiles were never selling so 
 cheap in New Hampshire before." 
 
 Jones. 
 
 {Bashfully.) — Excuse me, but I've got $58 
 which I. have collected as class taxes from my 
 class, and we'd feel awfully pleased if you'd take 
 it." (Thrusts it on Jim.) 
 
 59 
 
Robinson. 
 
 (Enters hurriedly through door leading from 
 corridor.) — "Can no one help me get that dog- 
 goned vest before my wife gets back. She's 
 coming up the street now." 
 
 Prof. Richardson. 
 
 "The Class of '99 is going to raise the $20,000. 
 In the meantime you must hide in some quiet vil- 
 lage near here till the thing blows over. Some 
 place like Pompanoosuc that no one ever goes to, 
 and nobody ever came from except Warren Ken- 
 dall." 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 "I don't care about your $20,000, Jim, what I 
 want is that vest." 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 (Her voice is heard wailing in the corridor.) — 
 "Oh, Clarence, Oh, Pet ! Why did I ever let you 
 go away alone ! (Robinson at the first sound of 
 her voice disappears again via bed-room. Mrs. 
 Robinson enters. Jim Richardson goes out while 
 Mrs. R. is talking. Of course all this dodging 
 in and out in one act is bad technique, but we 
 don't dare to give the audience a chance to think 
 over how rotten the show is by drawing the cur- 
 tain, for more than one act, so we decided to have 
 the performers popping on and off promiscuous- 
 ly. One good thing about this plan is that it 
 gets the thing over with quicker. Mrs. R. speaks 
 ecstatically.) That noble '99 man with Clarence's 
 vest has explained it all to me. How he sur- 
 rendered to save my husband. But a gentleman 
 called Chuck told the policeman that the person 
 he had wasn't Clarence so they are going to let 
 him go. Where is Clarence?" 
 
 60 
 
Cig Adams. 
 
 "He's just gone." 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 "Are you a '99 man too ? Can't you help Clar- 
 ence get away ?" 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 (With supreme and instant confidence.) — 
 "Sure I can. You tell +he cop (he's sure to come 
 back here again) that I'm your husband. See? 
 He'll believe that. He'll believe anything for 
 a while. You scold me, you know, make it real. 
 Just like a real wife talking to a real husband. 
 Then he'll lock me up and Robby will have a 
 chance to get away." 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 "Oh fine." (They retire to rear of stage to 
 practise. Mrs. R. very naturally and without ap- 
 parent effort assumes the role assigned to her.) 
 
 Jones. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Jones. 
 
 Cop. 
 
 (Enthusiastically.) — "Some class that '99! 
 Some class !" 
 
 (Bewildered.) — "But why do they do all this 
 for that fellow Robby? What is back of it all? 
 I don't understand it." 
 
 "No, because you don't understand class spirit, 
 the purest, most disinterested loyalty of man to 
 man in all the world." (Smith ponders. You 
 can almost hear him pond.) 
 
 (Enters glancing around. He has vest in 
 hand.)— "Where's Robinson?" 
 
 61 
 
Smith. 
 
 "Sherlock Holmes again! Ask his wife." 
 
 Cop. 
 
 (Standing near door observes Mrs. R. giving 
 Cig a great going .over in rear of stage. Cig very 
 humble. Realistic exhibition of little conversa- 
 tion between husband and wife.) "Ahem! Wom- 
 an ! Lady ! ! Woman ! ! ! (Finally Mrs. Robinson's 
 attention is diverted from the fascinating pastime 
 of bullying her fictitious husband, and the Cop 
 sternly demands.) Who is this man?" (Robin- 
 son in shirt sleeves pokes his head in the door be- 
 hind cop. Neither cop nor Mrs. R. see him, in 
 fact nobody but the audience is supposed to see 
 him as he hungrily prepares to pounce on the 
 vest and don it before his wife sees him.) 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 (Indignantly.) — "Don't you dare insult my 
 
 wife." 
 
 Cop. 
 
 "Your wife? (Drops vest, crosses room and 
 seizes him.) You are my prisoner." (Robinson 
 picks up vest and hastens into it.) 
 
 Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 (Weepily to Cig.) — "Oh Clarence, my hus- 
 band. (To Cop.) Don't take away my dear and 
 only husband." 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 (With vest on, advances toward wife beaming, 
 the great object of his life, the recovery of the 
 vest, being now attained.) 
 
 "Lucy, this is such a surprise. When did you 
 
 arrive 
 
 ?" 
 
 62 
 
Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 (Indignantly.) — "How dare you call me 
 Lucy?" 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 (Abashed, 'and still thinking of his treachery 
 about the vest and that his wife has been told 
 that he took it off, but determined to bluff it out.) 
 — "But why not call you Lucy, my dear?" 
 
 Cig Adams. 
 
 (For the benefit of the Cop and trying to give 
 Robinson the high sign to keep still) — "Don't 
 you call my wife, 'my dear' ". 
 
 Robinson. 
 Cop. 
 
 Robinson. 
 The Cop. 
 
 (In a daze.) — "His wife!" 
 
 {Over his shoulder to Robinson not seeing the 
 vest.) — Don't you butt in here, this ain't none of 
 your business." 
 
 (Recovering himself.) — "Ah! but this is my 
 
 vest. See how it fits." 
 
 ( 
 
 (He is perplexed. He only wanted to catch 
 one bank robber and there are two candidates for 
 the honor. He pulls his heavy artillery and trains 
 it alternately on Robinson and Cig while he en- 
 deavors, in vain, to recall a similar instance in 
 the literature of crime. Finally the granite of 
 New Hampshire which is in his brains, if not his 
 muscles, conceives a solution.) "Well ! One of 
 you two fellers is the robber and I don't quite 
 know which. But if you ain't twins I'm going 
 to find out. Line up there. March into that 
 room, and I'll try a little of the Hanover third 
 
 63 
 
degree." (He lines Robinson and Cig up and 
 they do the lock step into the bedroom with his 
 shooting iron trained upon a carefully selected 
 spot in the back of Robinson.) 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 (Has entered and remained standing in the 
 doorway while the Cop is forming the procession 
 and personally conducting it into the torture 
 chamber. He says to Jones:) — "Is the jig up?" 
 
 Jones. 
 
 "I'm afraid so unless the class has raised the 
 fund." 
 
 Tim Lynch. 
 
 "We're $1000 shy and there isn't a cent left in 
 the class. They've just finished auctioneering off 
 their watches on the campus. Every ticket is 
 gone. We even got 75c for George Clark's In- 
 gersoll but we're still $1000 shy. If we don't get 
 the cash back to the bank in five minutes I'm 
 afraid Robby will be done for." 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Jones. 
 Smith. 
 
 "What's that? How much do you need? 
 (Pulls out check book, signs name to blank 
 check.) Here fill it in for any amount you need. 
 I guess we Dartmouth men don't go back on each 
 other in a pinch, not by a long chalk." (Tim 
 shakes hands with him.) 
 
 "Oh, Buck, I knew you were true blue." 
 
 (Apparently surprised that there should be any 
 question about it.) — "Of course. This '99 is a 
 great class all right but, by Godfrey, there's no 
 flies on '74." 
 
 64 
 
Prof. Richardson. 
 
 (Appears in the doorway, a pregnant smile 
 upon his academic countenance. Before he spills 
 the glad news, the Cop appears at the bedroom 
 door. He holds the end of a long rope and as he 
 slowly and impressively proceeds across the stage 
 it is seen that Robinson and Cig are tied to the 
 other end of it. The abject bearing of Robinson 
 and Cig, and the triumphant manner of the Cop 
 indicate that he has extracted a confession from 
 each. At middle stage the victor and his victims 
 are halted by the upraised hand of Professor 
 Richardson who speaks as one having authority.) 
 — "Officer Sargent! This whole thing is a mis- 
 take. The Bank wasn't robbed at all." 
 
 Cor. 
 
 (Very respectfully, like a townie always talks 
 to a member of the faculty, to his face.) — "Is 
 that right, Professor Richardson?" 
 
 Prof. Richardson. 
 
 "Yes, officer. The Treasurer has just discov- 
 ered the money in his every day trousers pocket. 
 You know, of course, he keeps the money there 
 during banking hours to make change and he for- 
 got to put it in the vault when he closed up yes- 
 terday noon." 
 
 Cop. 
 
 Robinson. 
 
 (To Robinson and Cig.) — "Well you are tree. 
 But don't, either one of you, ever do it again." 
 (He slinks off stage, with that all gone feeling 
 characteristic of the before using picture in a 
 patent medicine testimonial. m Tim and Cig and 
 the rest gloat.) 
 
 (Anxiously.) — "And you don't mind about the 
 vest, Lucy?" 
 
 65 
 
Mrs. Robinson. 
 
 /'Hereafter, Clarence, I never am going to care 
 what you do when you're with the class of '99. 
 I can understand now what class spirit means." 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 "And you bet I can, too." 
 
 (Cig at the piano, starts the Chorus: — 
 "Oh! There's nineteen three and there's nine- 
 teen four, 
 And there's goin' to be a lot of nineteens more, 
 But — The best damn class is the class of mine 
 The Grand Old Class of Ninety-Nine." 
 
 While the above lyric is being sung cum ex- 
 tremo vigore all crowd around Smith shaking 
 his hand and patting him on the back. He beams 
 under the unaccustomed adulation. He mellows 
 up like a russet apple put out in the sun on the 
 cellar bulkhead on a warmish March day. He is 
 converted, and like all new converts, wants 
 everybody to know of his great experience. So 
 when the beautiful strains of the winsome melody 
 cease like the sound of fairy bells dying away in 
 the recesses of the Enchanted Forest, he insists 
 on making a speech. It isn't a very long speech, 
 but we must have it, because, as Peddy Miller 
 says, "What's the use of having a morality play 
 unless there is a moral in it?") 
 
 "I want to make public confession of the error 
 of my ways. For years, I have been pooh pooh- 
 ing the idea of class spirit, and all the time, I 
 think, I knew I was wrong, but I was too stub- 
 born to admit it. This little experience today has 
 opened my eyes. I see, and I believe, and I know, 
 that nowhere in life is there an association which 
 brings to men from early youth, through the 
 middle years and into old age, however old that 
 
 66 
 
Chorus: 
 
 age be, Jerry, such warmth and wealth of true 
 friendship and sincere affection as the association 
 of a good Dartmouth Class. 
 
 "And now, as a symbol of my conversion, I 
 want to do something extraordinary. I feel like 
 doing something which I have never done be- 
 fore and never will do again. Say, could any of 
 you fellers let me have a cigarette?" 
 
 (Robinson, et al, as soon as they have recov- 
 ered from the shock of this astounding request 
 eagerly offers him cigarettes. He takes one and 
 Robinson lights it for him. He blows a few vir- 
 ginal puffs. It makes him cough and splutter, but 
 he gamely sticks to it enjoying his self inflicted 
 martyrdom. The music begins again. Cig Adams 
 singing : 
 
 "Oh! There's lots of dandy classes that display 
 the Dartmouth Green, 
 And against their great renown and fame 
 we will not say a THING 
 But — if you want to know the best, that ever 
 has been seen, 
 Just wait a moment, if you please, and listen 
 to us sing." 
 All join in the chorus including the audience 
 and Smith, who forgets his bad ankle and almost 
 negotiates a few stiff steps of a buck and wing 
 dance.) 
 
 "Oh! There's nineteen three and there's nine- 
 teen four 
 And there's goin' to be a lot of nineteens more 
 But — the best damn class, is the class of mine 
 The Grand Old Class of Ninety-Nine." 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 67 
 
THE MORALITY PLAYETTE 
 
 It is no disparagement of the other numbers of the 
 sacred vaudeville with which we were entertained on Sun- 
 day night to insist that the morality playette was the thing. 
 Those who did not witness the performance can perhaps 
 get some faint notion of what it was like by reading the 
 text, but they have missed the living reality — and missed it, 
 I am afraid, for good and all, since it can scarcely be hoped 
 that the same superb company will ever be assembled to 
 present their offering a second time. I only wish they could 
 be, for I should like to see it again. 
 
 It is reported that the politico-sociological mind of Ped- 
 dy Miller was unable to discover the moral of the piece 
 when it was in rehearsal, but that implies an extraordinary 
 ethical obtuseness on his part. As performed in Hanover, 
 the playette certainly oozed morality from every pore. The 
 helpful and fraternal spirit shown to Robby (Mr. Hoban) 
 by his classmates was in itself a lesson of deep moral value. 
 Quite apart from the sacred doctrine of class spirit so warm- 
 ly advocated by Jones '74 (Mr. Clark) and other charac- 
 ters, and so richly expounded by Smith '74 (Mr. Barney) 
 after his conversion, the comedy has its wider appeal in 
 Christian ethics. How noble an example of self-sacrifice is 
 Tim Lynch (Mr. Lynch) ! What moral elevation in the 
 efforts made by members of '99 to save their erring class- 
 mate, as reported by Professor Richardson (Mr. Richard- 
 son) ! The thought of the sale of George Clark's Inger- 
 soll for 75c is in itself most moving. Nor does the piece 
 lack an example of stern rectitude and marvelous devotion 
 to duty in the person of the Hanover Chief of Police (Mr. 
 Donahue). Even Robby, the frail hero, left the path of 
 virtue for only a moment. He did not rob the bank, as 
 we were led to fear ; and we may rest assured that he would 
 never again take off carelessly any garment stitched by his 
 wife. 
 
 68 
 
Being sui generis — the only morality playette in or out 
 of activity — '99 UP, or, THE ADVENTURES OF A 
 WAISTCOAT should perhaps not be subjected? to the tests 
 by which shows are judged on Broadway. The cast was dif- 
 ferent, the setting was different, the audience was different, 
 and therefore the play had to be different. This is not to 
 say that it was any the worse on that account. Indeed, it is 
 a delightful example of what can be done with the drama 
 by a mind trained at the law, when the legal mind gets really 
 going. It lacks none of the essentials: plenty of action, 
 sharp definition of characters, abundance of sentiment, and 
 the humor for which the author became celebrated before 
 he left Wentworth Hall. On Charles H. Donahue's head 
 is hereby placed the wreath appropriate to successful drama- 
 tists. 
 
 To enumerate the members of the cast who made the 
 most of their parts is very easy — it is necessary only to give 
 a list of the actors. Possibly Mr. Adams as Cig Adams, Mr. 
 Richardson as Professor Richardson, and Mr. Lynch as Tim 
 Lynch were more profoundly true to life than the others; 
 but they had a handicap of several yards apiece. Mr. Don- 
 ahue's impersonation of Ben Sargent, the Chief of Police, 
 was a brilliant piece of idealization. Every stroke was mas- 
 terly: he was what such a functionary ought always to be. 
 Those in the audience who were old enough to remember 
 Mr. Barney in the days when he took female parts with such 
 success that his manners and dress were widely copied in 
 Hanover and the vicinity, were astounded by his virtuosity 
 in appearing as a crusty member of '74. He gave a very 
 sound performance, as did his classmate Jones (Mr. Clark). 
 One could almost imagine that the latter was speaking his 
 own sentiments rather than those of the playwright when he 
 defended class loyalty and rejoiced in its triumph. Mr. 
 Hoban in the role of Robinson '99 left nothing to be desired 
 as the devoted husband of a color-blind wife. The sym- 
 pathy of the audience was with him when it remembered 
 the waistcoat, and was lost only when it saw Mrs. Robin- 
 
 69 
 
son. In this part Mrs. Drew somewhat softened the as- 
 perities of the character as conceived by the author, but she 
 certainly added to its charm. It must be said, without of- 
 fence to the art of the actress, that she did not look color- 
 blind or behave like a shrew. The truth is that one cannot, 
 in acting, wholly escape from one's own personality. How- 
 ever, Mrs. Drew was doubtless right in her interpretation, 
 for nobody could have wished it different. 
 
 To Mrs. Drew as stage director the company owed a 
 great deal of its success, and the audience much of its 
 pleasure. She should share with Mr. Donahue the honor 
 of creating a very delightful — and very moral — show. 
 
 Gordon Hall Gerould. 
 
 Members of the Class of J pp, wives, friends and invited' 
 guests: — 
 
 I am not at all unmindful of the great honor which has 
 been thrust upon me when I am asked to address you 
 upon such an occasion as this, your 20th reunion at com- 
 mencement. When your committee first asked me to de- 
 liver a lecture or read a paper at this time I was for 
 a while at a loss to decide whether I would prepare merely 
 a light and entertaining essay, or whether I should try to 
 combine some useful learning with my discourse, and have 
 you go away feeling that you had added somewhat to the 
 already broad education which you received within the 
 walls of the old college. 
 
 For a number of years past I have made a special 
 study of the geological formations in and about Hanover, 
 and in the course of my investigations I have very naturally 
 come upon a variety of interesting specimens, curiosities, 
 
 70 
 
Photo by The Kimball Studio, Concord, N. H. 
 
 Bob Johnston as "Prof. Kilgallon" 
 
and relics of a past age. In many cases these exhibits 
 have an intense human interest in addition to their great 
 value as examples of the life and customs of other days. 
 Believing that you would be interested and entertained by 
 an inspection and exposition of my collection I have brought 
 here some few of my more choice specimens, and will 
 proceed briefly to outline the characteristics of each one, 
 and also give you some slight information as to the cir- 
 cumstances under which it was found. All of my specimens 
 were discovered within the geographical confines of Han- 
 over, and in such places as mounds, escas, dumps, glaciers, 
 garbage pails, caves, cellars and back yards of faculty 
 houses. Many of them give evidence of great age and 
 hard usage and we cannot help but gaze upon them with 
 awe-stricken interest as we think of their antiquity, dating 
 from the time when the sabre-toothed tiger, the woolly 
 rhinoceros, the wild Owen Hall, the Buck Burns, the Pap 
 Abbott, the mammoth, the unicorn and Lew Mead roamed 
 the plains of Hanover. 
 
 Without further introduction I will call to your no- 
 tice the various specimens, and I would welcome inquiries 
 regarding them if questions come to your mind. 
 
 Flat bone 
 
 Specimen number I is an extremely interesting piece. 
 As you will see it is human fossil remains, and of a bony 
 consistency. It was unearthed during commencement week 
 of 1899 by a member of my own class while he was digging 
 in the rear of Sanborn Hall trying to find a jug of refresh- 
 ment which he had buried there the night before during a 
 raid by our good dean of that period, Chuck Emerson. 
 Immediately upon the discovery of this bone I was noti- 
 fied, and set out at once to trace its origin. The first place 
 visited was the site of a ruin where had long stood a build- 
 ing known locally as number 10. This was a structure of a 
 semi-private character, but open, however, to the public. 
 
 71 
 
The crumbling walls were found to be entirely covered 
 with cuneiform inscriptions or hieroglyphics, and from 
 them we learned that the fossil was a section of the skull 
 or the bone-head of a trustee of the college. The peculiar 
 character of the fracture which cracked this educator's 
 bean shows that he was evidently struck with a meat axe 
 or other blunt instrument. It has been suggested that this 
 trustee was struck with a good idea, but a close study of 
 trustees in general leads us to believe this impossible. He 
 was doubtless killed by his fellow trustees during a row 
 as to which of them would have the rooms with bath at the 
 Inn during Commencement. A chemical analysis of this 
 piece of bone shows it to be so full of lime that it was at 
 first surmised this particular trustee might have lived in 
 the limestone age, but closer investigation proved the lime 
 to be the result of a diet of lime rickeys, better known by 
 the common or garden name of gin rickeys. 
 
 Beer bottle 
 
 Will you give your attention for a moment now to 
 exhibit number 2. A remarkable piece of pottery indeed, 
 and from the inscription in the ancient Chaldean tongue 
 believed to be a vase or receptacle for the storage of beer 
 or other beverage of the period. This particular piece was 
 found on the Appian Way, or highway, which leads from 
 Hanover to Lebanon, and had evidently lain there long 
 when it was finally discovered and rescued by Harry Wason 
 and placed in this priceless collection. Some years after 
 its recovery I communicated with the Hon. Ernest Fox 
 Nichols and he informed me that possibly Rab Abbott, or 
 Cig Adams could translate the odd characters on the vessel. 
 A few months of close study on, their part resulted in great 
 light being shed on the original contents and uses of this 
 vase, and the period from which it dates. The vessel was 
 evidently owned in the family of one of the Boston aristoc- 
 racy of the time by the name of "Gahm" or "Joe Gahm," 
 and from the inscription we learn that he was famous in 
 
 72 
 
his time as a brewery agent, and in his wine presses he 
 used to press a rare beer known as "Schlitz." This con- 
 tainer gives every evidence of having at one time been 
 used as a holder for that beverage, much as the wine-skins 
 of ancient Egypt were used. Careful investigation and 
 search in the mounds and river-bottoms about Hanover as 
 well as in the cellars of certain members of the faculty, 
 namely Jim Richardson, it is believed would reveal a num- 
 ber of these rare pieces of pottery or glass, and a collec- 
 tion of such objects of art could not fail to be a great and 
 interesting addition to the museum in JButterfield hall. This 
 particular piece has been offered for sale to the college at 
 a merely nominal sum, in order that it may not pass from 
 the possession of the college, and the trustees are now con- 
 sidering its purchase. One member of the board is re- 
 ported to have stated that he would vote to give 15 cents 
 for it if it were full, but unfortunately its original contents 
 are missing. We will now pass on to the next. 
 
 Plug of Tobacco 
 
 Number 3 is an interesting item, although chiefly no- 
 table rather from an economic than a scientific point of 
 view. In appearance it closely resembles a piece of pemmi- 
 can, a condensed food much used by Arctic explorers, but 
 those of you who are familiar with the customs and habits 
 obtaining in the Old Dartmouth will readily recognize it as 
 a souvenir of the earliest times, coming down- to us from 
 the days of Wheelock and his Indians. It is what was 
 known in the years just previous to 1906 as a plug of chew- 
 ing, still called by some persons by its Indian name of "To- 
 bacco." 
 
 It was a popular and much used article of food in 
 Hanover in the 9o's among some of the rougher element 
 such as Corey, Skipper Littlefield, or Boyle of 1900, and 
 the marks of its consumption may still be seen on the 
 rough board floors of many of the older recitation rooms. 
 
 73 
 
In conjunction with that other staple product, rum, it 
 formed the chief sustenance of many during those hard 
 pioneer days from 1902 to 1906, and its value as a food 
 product can hardly be overestimated. 
 
 Skull 
 
 I want to call your particular attention to article num- 
 ber 4. This as you will see is a skull, and one that gave us 
 great trouble to identify for a long time. It was discovered 
 about two feet below the surface while excavating for ' a 
 sewer in Lebanon street, and was first thought to date from 
 the Paleoxoic age, until I pointed out the low, retreating 
 forehead. This characteristic led some scientists to believe 
 that it was the skull of Johnnie K. Lord, or possibly of 
 Fred P. Emery. I readily placed it, however, as the fossil- 
 ized dome of a member of the class of 1900, from the nar- 
 row frontal bone and small brain capacity, indicating to- 
 gether a limited and low order of intelligence. You will no- 
 tice the undershot jaw, a distinctive mark in the caveman, 
 the ape-man, and the 1900 man. The teeth are missing with 
 the exception of two, they having been destroyed in the at- 
 tempt to eat the rough food at the Hanover boarding clubs 
 of the period. Two teeth only remain, well worn, and heavily 
 stained with Dark B. L., it having been the custom among 
 the untutored and uncivilized men of 1900 to chew such 
 material in great quantities. Note especially the abnor- 
 mal development of the back of the cranium, a character- 
 istic of the men of 1900 and known as "fat-head." 
 
 In life this subject must have been indeed a ferocious 
 and fearful spectacle, looking not unlike Johnny McCarty 
 or Johnnie Row. 
 
 Rum bottle 
 
 Piece number 5 is a fragment that rivets our attention 
 at once. As dear old Stubby Wells has so well said, "There 
 is no surer way of studying the habits and customs of a 
 
 74 
 
people than by observing the character of the utensils 
 which were in use during the period in which they lived and 
 died." This fossil, combining some of the qualities of a wa- 
 ter jug or vase for holding flowers, hardly seems however, 
 to have been actually in use for either purpose. I was in 
 Hanover during commencement week of 1910, at the time 
 when the distinguished class of 1900 was holding its de- 
 cennial reunion, and in wandering over the battlefield in 
 the early morning I happened wholly by chance to come 
 upon this rare bit of pottery which lay upon the campus 
 almost unnoticed, dropped there by a brave soldier no 
 doubt during the heat of the engagement the night before. 
 No less an authority on folk-lore than Gil Frost pronounced 
 it an example of early Scotch craftsmanship, and he re- 
 lied for his proof partly on the peculiar shape of the recep- 
 tacle, but, mostly upon the characteristic smell. I took issue 
 with him upon this point, and disputing his claim that the 
 vase had been of Scotch origin I contended that it was not 
 Scotch but Rye. Weary Wardle and Pitt Drew were called 
 into consultation, and after much investigation they reported 
 that the vessel had contained merely a beverage known lo- 
 cally as "hard stuff." Thus a rare discovery was made, 
 and we had the pleasure of finding out that back in that 
 remote age there was no such thing as "safety first." 
 
 Old Corsets 
 
 In coming to specimen number 6 I feel that I should 
 perhaps make the explanation that this discovery was not 
 found strictly within the town of Hanover, but so nearby 
 as to warrant it in holding a place in my collection. It 
 was recovered by Neal Hoskins and Charlie Cushman in 
 the neighboring village of Lebanon, and bears so close a 
 relation to the college and its history that Messrs. Hoskins 
 and Cushman realized at once its great value, and lost no 
 time in adding it to this priceless museum of fine arts. Al- 
 though in rather a good state of preservation the article was 
 at first difficult to identify, until Montie Fuller and George 
 
 75 
 
Clark of the class of 1899 had given it some study. They 
 eventually recognized the relic, and informed me that the 
 specimen was an article of dress of the period. It is be-- 
 lieved that it was in use by some young lady, of that time, 
 and was discarded by her and afterwards forgotten. It 
 has been suggested that a thorough search in the town of 
 Lebanon might even at this late date bring to light similar 
 specimens, but be that as it may, the fact remains that it is 
 an interesting object for our .study. 
 
 Red Hair 
 
 Discovery number 7 is one that gave us great difficulty 
 to place, and it was only after months of investigation that 
 we were able to trace its origin. It is of such rare and 
 strange character that I believe you will be closely inter- 
 ested in it. As you will see it has the appearance of a small 
 tuft of reddish hair or wool. It was found by Sloppy 
 Hall behind a radiator in one of the rooms in the history 
 department, and its origin remained a mystery for weeks. 
 Some naturalists classed it as wool, but a microscopic ex- 
 amination readily proved it to be more like hair of a fine 
 and silky texture, such as is often used for whiskers. Some 
 insisted that it was the down or feathers of some strange 
 fowl, but this analysis was enventually rejected. It was 
 not until a long time after that the secret was discovered. 
 It seems that a rare and little known wild bird had started 
 to build a nest in the history room, and had used such of 
 this reddish or golden hair as he could find to weave the 
 nest in the space behind the radiator. The bird was seen 
 at intervals after this as it sought for building material, 
 and in flying about it gave vent to a peculiar and sharp 
 cry, sounding not unlike "Eric! Eric! Eric!" 
 
 This completes the list of specimens which I have 
 classified and arranged although I have several others on 
 view which it is my intention to study more thoroughly at 
 'some later time, and write brief descriptions of them for 
 the scientific periodicals. At the close of the lecture I in- 
 
 76 
 
vite as many of you as wish to inspect the collection and 
 ask any questions regarding it that may occur to you. I 
 thank you again for your kind attention. 
 
 PAUL OSGOOD'S MILESTONES TALKS ACTUALLY 
 GIVEN IN PART BY GEORGE CLARK 
 
 Railroads, generations and college classes have milestones. 
 The first '99 milestone was the day we jumped off the 
 train at 
 
 1. Norwich and Hanover Station and jumped upon one of 
 "Dud's" coaches. 
 
 2. The day we got our first glimpse of the Dartmouth 
 
 campus ; 
 
 3. First met Dean Emerson, first spoke to the soul of the 
 
 Dartmouth of our generation, 
 
 4. Dr. Tucker. (APPLAUSE) 
 
 5 That day Dave Storrs and Rice directed Peddy Miller to 
 Cobb's Emporium where Peddy put all the money left, 
 after paying Treasurer Chase, into a bunch of bananas 
 whereon to live. 
 
 6. That evening George Evans gathered under his sweater 
 
 a football that '99 would have liked to have and later 
 distributed the pieces. It was a memorable milestone. 
 
 7. Later in old chapel there came a kind of quarter mile- 
 stone when '98 tried to salt us down as though we were 
 so many young schrod. They went a flying out the 
 chapel door for their audacity. 
 
 8. As soon as Bennie, Herb, Carl and Jerry could get the 
 
 salt out of their hair they climbed the hill east of the 
 Oval. Bennie found for the first time that the earth 
 isn't all flat the way it is in Illinois. 
 
 9. Cav and Joe Edwards got rid of the salt irt their matted 
 head rugs by rubbing it into the men on. the varsity squad 
 until Indian MacAndrews begged Coach Wurtenberg to 
 
 77 
 
put them on the varsity side so they would rub into 
 their own crowd. 
 
 10. Bill Colbert, Pap Abbott started a real milestone when 
 Carlton cracked the pistol for the ioo yd. dash at the 
 fall track meet. 
 
 ii. '99 was some champion when the meet was over and '98 
 and the rest knew that it had come on the map to stay. 
 
 12. Having our freshman picture was another sort of mile- 
 stone. Oh, now for the vanished hair! 
 
 13. The day Asakawa joined our class was still another mile- 
 
 stone. A recent postcard of his from Tokio sends you 
 greetings. 
 
 14. The football games with Amherst and Williams in which 
 
 Cav, Crolius, Bill Eaton, Rab Abbott, Doc Norton and 
 Frank Staley helped to win the football championship 
 were milestones too. Freshman fall was just full of mile- 
 stones. 
 
 15. This fraternity initiation summons to Parker symbolizes 
 
 another milestone that many of us approached with shak- 
 ing knees and got by with fear and trembling. 
 
 16. When Bill Wason came out with a green ana white 
 
 sweater imitating a South African zebra and set the 
 fashion, well that was almost a milestone. Many of our 
 pocketbooks had hard work getting by it. 
 
 17. The night Kimball boxed Farley '98 in Upper Hallgarten 
 
 and Greenwood, etc. bet their last penny that '99 "would 
 lick" deserves to classify in this list. 
 
 18. Likewise the day Bobby Rowe, Fritz Crolius and Mun 
 
 Folsom ran out on to the campus in baseball togs, tossed 
 up a ball, thus indicating that freshman spring had come. 
 
 19. Do you recall the famous '99 freshman team, Query 
 whether the one game they played was really a mile- 
 stone? Their sweater bill was more a stumbling block. 
 
 20. The cane rush when we did up '98 was the real thing. 
 
 21. So too when the '99ers on the track team helped Steve 
 
 Chase win the Intercollegiate track meet at Worcester. 
 
 22. That night Benezet and Cig Adams lost their voices sing- 
 
 ing "Roe Johnny Roe" all the way to the Jet. 
 
 78 
 
23. There were so many milestones that spring that Speare had to 
 
 bring his books out of doors to get in any work at all. 
 
 24. And when the class canes came, the real milestone that marked 
 off freshman year, was passed. 
 
 25. The bell rush that began at the class game of sophomore year 
 on the Oval and ended in a mud hole outside the Oval was the 
 next ninety-nine milestone. 
 
 26. It was followed by Bill Sears winning the 200 yard dash for 
 '99 
 
 27. and Tedo Chase leaping the hurdles to another interclass meet 
 victory for '99 
 
 28. The afternoon Buck Burns got a mug of cider from the Nor- 
 
 wich cider boy, 
 
 29. and got Kirk and Ladd to start the South African movement 
 was the next milestone. 
 
 30. The day Professor Emery returned Cav's daily theme with 
 the remark "Excellent, Send to the Lit" was another. 
 
 31. Late in Sophomore Spring the freshmen brought out a pick 
 axe handle for a cane and yell "Wey Who Wey, last year's 
 
 Freshmen, MJLK." 
 
 32. "Last year's freshmen" were up before Reed listening to Carl- 
 ton lay down some new kind of cane rush rules. 
 
 33. Then we swooped down, etc. 
 
 34. You can just pick out Dickey in the midst of the melee that 
 ensued. 
 
 35. Pearl throwing himself in to save the day, then, illustrates 
 the way he threw himself in two years ago to save the Food 
 situation when Mr. Hoover called. 
 
 36. The rush fell. When Professor Lord got it unsnarled and 
 declared '99 had won, 
 
 37. Wardle had to walk before Ikey to his room so Ikey wouldn't 
 be arrested by the Hanover cop 
 
 38. and Pap and Buck led the class, or as much of it as had suffi- 
 cient clothes, in a peerade about the campus, singing "Hail, 
 Hail, the rush is over now." That was a real milestone. 
 
 79 
 
39. The School for Scandal, cleverly given by Payne, Gannon, 
 
 Barney and others proved another milestone 
 
 40. and when Professor Emerson had finished his laboratory dem- 
 onstration at the end of the course in physics we knew that 
 sophomore year had been turned. 
 
 41. Another milestone was the day Junior year a poster calling 
 for recruits in the war with Spain quietly appeared on the bul- 
 letin board before the Webster elm. 
 
 42. Immediately Jim Barney had a company drilling on the cam- 
 pus at 6 A. M. 
 
 43. Tim Lynch, Pete Lane, Bill Frazer, and Ted Child, the last 
 of whom joined the R. R. Engineers, and is the only '99er 
 still over there, at once got the fever to go. Dr. Tucker dis- 
 suaded all but Lane. 
 
 44. Pete was in the line of volunteers later on the campus. Note 
 the D's, 
 
 45. escorted to the station by John Philip Sousa Pearl's famous 
 college band. 
 
 46. It was an emotion-strained farewell at the station that marked 
 the passage of that milestone. 
 
 47. Capt. Pitt Drew's championship ball team with Mun Folsom 
 and Fritz Crolius upon it made the next milestone. 
 
 Hawley Chase, Pap and all the other rooters that had followed 
 the team to Williamstown, got so excited over the prospect of 
 winning some Williams money that they failed to recognize 
 that another stone had been passed. 
 
 49. When college opened senior fall with Musgrove etc., running 
 the Dartmouth we tried to wake up our sleepy eyes to a real- 
 ization that another milestone was by the way. 
 
 50. When the Wentworth Hall gang actually put on white col- 
 lars, all save Wig who refused point blank, we knew it 
 
 51. and when they put the incoming freshmen through the first 
 Delta Alpha Hall initiation we had a realizing sense that some- 
 thing really had been started as well as passed. 
 
 52. A victory over Williams, 
 
 53. a bonfire on the campus. 
 
 80 
 
54- and a turkey raid by Rounds, Kimball et al was another 
 milestone. 
 
 55. The day Jack Sanborn let the Thayer School bunch down 
 the track to the Jet., 
 
 <$6. and the bridge at West Leb was held against all comers 
 was the next. Horatio at the bridge had nothing on that 
 bunch. 
 
 57. The day Judge Nelson P. Brown and Prof. James P. 
 
 Richardson did high snow diving from the Tri Kappa 
 porch was the next milestone. 
 
 58. The next was the First Junior prom parade, Pearl's band 
 
 escorted 
 
 59. The managers, Hoskins, Johnston and Keyes, in a won- 
 
 derful gilded coach, 
 
 60. Even the night owl cart was pressed into service in that 
 parade for the crowd to gape at. 
 
 61. At the show that followed Bobbie, now Maj. Johnston 
 
 of Gov. Bartlett's staff, and Hoss gave for the last time 
 their renowned rube impersonations, maybe I err in 
 calling this their farewell appearance, it was nevertheless 
 another milestone. 
 
 62. At any rate the fair June Sunday morning that the guard- 
 
 ian of the law arrested Hoban getting an innocent weekly 
 bath in the brook at Norwich was a '99 milestone. 
 
 63. Donahue's class day prophecies at the Bema that we all 
 got by with more or less wobbling and some hilarity 
 
 ^4. and the alumni luncheon in the Gym at which Bob John- 
 ston nearly disgraced the class by asking out loud who 
 "stole Chuck Emerson's ice cream freezer" as the dis- 
 tinguished Director of the Pan American Union was 
 soaring to unknown heights of oratory, was not the last 
 milestone, as many of us thought, but only the beginning 
 of a new kind. 
 
 ^5. The yearly '99 Round-Up always on the first Saturday 
 night in March now began to mark the way with regu- 
 larity 
 
 66. Punctuated by the -more monumental stones, first the 
 Triennial, then the Quin quennial and the Decennial, 
 Oh that Decennial, sometimes mispronounced DeKen- 
 nial. 
 
 81 
 
67. That was the first year of the golden age of Warren 
 Kendall's special commencement trains "befo de war." 
 In those naive days Ike Leavitt, who had heard that '99 
 was to spring a uniform upon the unsophisticated Dart- 
 mouth campus touched the seam of Luke's new peg tops 
 with the question, "Are these the uniforms, Luke?" 
 
 58. That was the year that Pap and Buck brought a lady 
 named Lena instead of their wives to the reunion. She's 
 back again this year accompanied by her son and she po- 
 litely lowers her '99 parasol when you inquire "whose 
 boy?" 
 
 69. That was a red letter milestone (group). The ladies 
 wore real hats with real brims in those days. 
 
 *?o. The Sunday afternoon ride was off to the reservoir and 
 Lord's Hill, behind real horses. It was a honeymoon 
 for Celery and Mrs. Payne, on the middle seat, but pro- 
 perly chaperoned as you can see by Joe Gannon and 
 others. 
 
 71. The program was so chuck full of events that year that 
 
 after the memorial service Long Jim, glancing down the 
 program, remarked to Warren, "I swan, here is a half 
 hour without anything scheduled." 
 
 72. At 1 P. M. Class Day, Joe Gannon shouted a now classical 
 "fall in" and costumes first made their appearance. From 
 that time 
 
 73. they were in evidence everywhere accompanied by vocif- 
 erous singing and marching. 
 
 74. Even the ladies were bunched up, protected by a square, 
 marched up and down the campus and back again until 
 
 - their French heels wanted to cry out "halt." 
 
 75. There was a Tuesday morning ball, game with '04 wherein 
 
 the players like Mun Folsom ate chunks of pie and 
 mingled with the crowd between innings. 
 
 76. Wherein a certain young lady, Miss Swain, now Mrs. 
 
 Drew, got very much excited because a certain young 
 ninety-nine man, Pitt, knocked a home run, 
 
 77. Wherein the umpire got mobbed by such recalcitrants 
 as Long Jim and Tim Lynch, and 
 
 78. Hodgkins faked an injury and was rushed off the field by 
 Dr. Sanborn and ambulance men Abbott and Burns, 
 
 82 
 
nearly causing a collapse on Mrs. Hodge's part whom 
 they had forgotten to tip off. 
 
 79. Hodge remarked at the end of the game to Frank Staley 
 "Umph, weren't they rotten?" indicating how the score 
 stood, 
 
 80. and the sound of "hail, hail the game is over now" with 
 
 some more words tacked on, showed that we had not 
 forgotten the cane rush pean of sophomore year. 
 
 81. Mushy played the part unconsciously of the proud father 
 
 82. and '99 led all the rest about the campus. ■ 
 
 83. Varney, second from left, front row of chorus, could 
 really do a skirt dance then 
 
 84. The exit of the '99 chorus was done with the eclat of a 
 
 striking cab driver's union. 
 
 85. Waiting next day in the bread line for the alumni lunch- 
 
 eon and Long Jim's oration completed a milestone with 
 four sides all to the road. 
 
 86. The next grand '99 monument was the Quindecennial 
 
 halcyon days, 2 private cars to Hanover. 
 
 87. A piano with Hodge on the keyboard and Cig above it 
 
 buttressed in by bag and baggage 
 
 88. Made the entry into Hanover triumphal. 
 
 89. Pictures of Bennie telling, the Class Baby about his 
 father's college escapades, I 
 
 90. of a picnic down by the river Sunday evening where Fat 
 DuBois presided over a half bushel of peanuts, 
 
 91. Rice giving Storrs a light at the class meeting, 
 
 92. of the cast for the '99 pageantette of Eleazar refounding 
 the college, attempting to look like real actors while 
 Winchester took their photo 
 
 93. of Bill Atwood acquiescing to Bob Johnston's Sam Oc- 
 cum's "to So. East Leb. plenty squaw, to So. West Junct. 
 plenty fire water, fine place for college," and declaring 
 the college founded, come back with sharpness. 
 
 94. Again the ladies marched as well as Rab Abbott. 
 
 95. Warren Kendall directed Marshal Gannon in leading to a 
 
 shady bit of lawn at the head of the then new Tuck 
 Drive 
 
 83 
 
g6. which Pap Abbott with wit and some of the gestures he 
 admitted to have stolen from Bob Johnston's gesture cas- 
 ket of college days dedicated the "Acqua Via." 
 
 97. Oh we marched on the campus as of yore 
 
 98. and we blistered upon the bleachers in proper commence- 
 
 ment fashion. 
 
 99. Rab Abbott's decorative pendant amused the distinguished 
 
 Historian of the Russo-Japanese war by his side. The 
 Oriental expression on the latter's face is the beginning 
 of the thought "Some day — well in Middle Massachusetts 
 there'll be no more Strawberry call." 
 
 coo. A little tea party to the distinguished class of '94 and 
 other friends, 
 
 [Oi. Hoban's admonition "Remember fellows the next '99 mile- 
 stone will begin June 21, 1919" told that the Quindecen- 
 nial was fading into memory. But we have remembered 
 the admonition, you see. Every Dartmouth milestone is 
 as sacred to '99 as the Charing crosses were to Edward 
 of England. 
 
 Dear Kenneth : — 
 
 In looking over the notes that I had made for my talk 
 in the Robinson Theatre Sunday night I find that I left 
 undone some things that ought to have been done, and did 
 some things that ought not to have been done. To tell the 
 truth, when I made up the talk (beforehand) I had pic- 
 tured myself getting up as I did at the dinner in 1914, and 
 just opening my mouth and letting it go, unchecked, un- 
 censored, unexpurgated, untrammeled. 
 
 Imagine how panic-stricken I was accordingly when I 
 found myself addressing a dignified audience, including the 
 Governor of New Hampshire, the President and Dean of 
 Dartmouth College, staid and respected professors, and ma- 
 ture Daughters of the Colonial Dames who would have been 
 shocked beyond measure had I spieled my spiel as originally 
 mapped out. 
 
 84 
 
It took some quick mental scene-shif tings and hasty 
 last-minute revisions before I could say anything at all, 
 and some o<f my best yarns had to be sadly hamstrung. 
 
 How, for instance, could I have told the true tale of the 
 disappearance of the Deutschemythologiebuch, as I shall 
 now tell it to you, with George D. Lord and Mrs. Georgie 
 sitting there before me? So I had to pick and cull. It 
 was safe to slam old "Stought" so I began on him — told 
 how he thought he had a foxy system of calling on us, so 
 as to give everybody a turn, and yet not let him know when 
 the turn was due, — told how we solved it in two days, so 
 that the whole class could slumber while we three self-ap- 
 pointed monitors, armed with duplicates of Stought's list, 
 kept watch. "Hey, Timmy Lynch! You come next. Tell 
 'Celery' that he follows you." 
 
 Told of Stought's habit of blushing and cropping his 
 eyes when one stared hard at him, whereby one Neal Luther 
 Hoskins, A. B. JM. D. forced him to drop his gaze upon 
 his desk for a brief interval, during which the future hope 
 of the medical fraternity tip toed out of the room. Seeing 
 the success of which manoeuver numerous and sundry 
 other seekers after knowledge of the German tongue, among 
 them Charles Albert Folsom, Frank Clarence Staley and 
 E. Grout Baldwin, followed his example. Told how Stought 
 finally woke to find half the class gone and the other half 
 in silent spasms of joy (not the "hot thermometer"). 
 
 I told of Louis Dow and his method of calling on us. 
 One day he began with Mr. A. M. Abbott, Mr. E. A. Abbott, 
 Mr. Adams, (this was Greek, so Manchester Rab and 
 Charlie Adams did not appear on the roll) etc. And next 
 day he would begin with Mr. Woodward, Mr. Woodman, 
 Mr. Wood, etc., and work his way upward. I told how one 
 day "Pap" would get the first five lines (it was Herodotus) 
 and the next day none, the next day the first five lines, etc. 
 Told how concerned, perplexed, etc., Louis was when Pap 
 flunked the exam and how he put him through on the 
 strength of his brilliant class record. 
 
 85 
 
I told how Asakawa tried for the English prize and 
 was informed, when he inquired his fate, "I am very sorry, 
 Mr. Asakawa. You just missed that prize. You came 
 very, very close, indeed, to getting it." How the members 
 of the faculty laughed as I gave Kan-Ichi's answer. "I 
 have seen fourteen fellows to whom you have told the same 
 thing already !" And then I told how I had found Asa- 
 kawa writing an essay and had said to him : "Hello, Asa- 
 kawa ! Writing an essay for L. P. ?" "L. P. ? L. P. ? Who 
 is L. P.? L. P. Emery? I thought he was F. P." "No, 
 no, think— L. P." "Oh, oh, oh! Leg-Pooler!" 
 
 Then I told of the grotesque fashion of wearing frag- 
 mentary patches of beard that broke out in the college dur- 
 ing the winter of 1897-8; told of the costume of "Hoss" 
 with its big patch of sandpaper firmly anchored to the un- 
 derside of the right leg of his corduroys by big copper rivets. 
 Told of his appearance in Clothespins' class in the bottle 
 green revolutionary uniform with the bright scarlet jersey; 
 told of the roar of applause that followed Clothespins' re- 
 mark that "it is the privilege of genius to dress eccentrical- 
 
 ly." 
 
 I tried to get Hoss to tell the last rejoinder of Clothes^ 
 pins, for he had corrected me when I told it in Detroit to 
 Mrs. Hoss; — but he declined. 
 
 I told of Stubby and his genius for twisting Vinogra- 
 dov into Vinodograff and remunerate into renumerate. One 
 of our authors was named H. deB. Gibbons. His middle 
 name, I suppose, was deBeaudoin — Bennett or something 
 like that. Stubby insisted on calling him deGibbins. 
 
 I told of various devices for beating the game at exam 
 time; how one fellow used to wear a cuff, loaded with 
 chemical formulae, on his ankle; how one '97 man passed 
 in a little paper with his exam book which read "For Boyle's 
 law, left hand lower vest pocket ; for Avogadro's law, right 
 hip pocket; for Newton's laws, look at watch; for defm* 
 : ons, up right sleeve;" etc., etc. 
 
 86 
 
I told the story of the class in Greek Art (capital ART, 
 like Murphy's course in George Ade's College Widow) and 
 how Pete Adams and Jim Richardson and Doc Hawkes 
 and myself used to string Georgie D. along from day to day, 
 getting him started on the beauties of the Giustiniani Pallas, 
 and doing absolutely no work, until one day he detected a 
 little suppressed gleam of amusement in somebody's eye 
 as he fell for some skillfully worded question. Thereupon 
 he ordered us to prepare about two pages of German in a 
 book on mythology and antiques that nobody in the class 
 could translate except Pete and Jim Rich. — It was the art- 
 icle on Athene, as I remember it. — We were panic-stricken. 
 
 "Do I understand that we have to translate this whole 
 passage?" said I. 
 
 "Absolutely!" said GeOrgie D. looking like Ajax defy- 
 ing the lightning. 
 
 "By next Tuesday?" (This was on Saturday.) 
 
 "Absolutely !" 
 
 Then I told how two of us had slipped the book down 
 behind some others in the bookcase that would never be 
 used, and then let Georgie overhear us cursing the selfish 
 guy that had swiped the book for his own purposes, and 
 denied the rest of us the rare privilege of perusing its 
 pages. I told of the air of lofty contempt for our help- 
 lessness with which Georgie came to our rescue, and how 
 this attitude changed, first to uneasiness and then to blaz- 
 ing wrath as he discovered that the volume was missing. 
 
 For two days we did no further work while Georgie 
 paced up and down in front of the class the whole hour, fir- 
 ing vollies, regular Demosthenean philippics, at the un- 
 known, but present, culprit. I did not dare quote his sum- 
 ming up, his giddy peroration. He would take three long 
 strides, almost doing the split to stretch them into regular 
 man's-size steps, glare savagely at some one of the fellows 
 that he suspected of electing the course for some other 
 purpose than an interest in Myron, Skopas or Praxiteles, 
 
 87 
 
jerk out a biting phrase, stride three more times, glare at 
 another low-hanger, fire another shot, etc., etc. 
 
 You must imagine this discourse interrupted by strides 
 and glares : 
 
 "Now if I knew who had that book — (glare at George 
 Rounds) I would ask some of you — (glare at Hodgkins) 
 to bring him up to my house — (glare at Doc Chandler, 97J, 
 98^) and get the hose out — (glare at "Pap") and soak the 
 wretch — (glare at Hodge, while Jim Rich and Pete Adams 
 doubled up with joy) and wash his exterior, at least!" 
 (Glare at George.) 
 
 I told how Ikey and Donnyhoo, questioning how a cer- 
 tain English professor could have time to correct all those 
 daily themes when he drove around the country so much 
 and played so much golf, put a tiny drop of mucilage in 
 the fold of each sheet of their essay paper. The two themes 
 came back, with mucilage intact, one marked V. G., the 
 other F. 
 
 Then I had hoped to tell of the many skirmishes of 
 Joe Edwards and myself with that "strong, perseverin' 
 man," John K. Lord. They would fill a chapter in them- 
 selves. 
 
 I remember how one day Joe, who was just beginning 
 Chemistry told us that he had learned that K was the 
 symbol for potassium. That afternoon he and I walked 
 into the North Latin Room in advance of the rest of the 
 class. No Johnny K. in sight. Whereupon Joe sung out, 
 in a stentorian bellow "Where is old Jack, old Jack Potas- 
 sium?" 
 
 , "Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Edwards; good afternoon, 
 Mr. Benezet," said Johnny, stepping out from behind the 
 furthest pillar. (You recall those big square pillars in the 
 room.) 
 
 Bill Colbert and his relations with Charlie D. Adams 
 and Frankie Sherman would have filled up another hour. 
 
 88 
 
I would have loved to tell of "Spade's" famous outline 
 in mediaeval history, which got Eric's goat, and sent the 
 class into convulsions, and of Buck's recitation on the re- 
 lations between Cluny and Rome in the I2th century. 
 "Waal, you see, Cluny, he went down to Rome — !" 
 
 There was the day when the fellows hired two grind- 
 organ men to play different tunes, simultaneously, under 
 the east and west windows, respectively, of Dartmouth 
 Hall, until Stought was nearly beside himself. 
 
 No doubt you recall Cav's giving the bag-piper half a 
 dollar to go up and play in his room in Dartmouth Hall. 
 
 "No, no," answered the canny Scot, "the professors, 
 they no like us to play in the beeldings." 
 
 "Well let's see," said Cav, "here's one of them now. 
 Professor," said he, touching his cap to Mort Tuttle '97, 
 "would there be any objection to my taking this man up 
 into my room to play?" 
 
 "Certainly not, Mr. Cavanaugh," answered Tuttle, sal- 
 uting. The bunch saluted and Tuttle passed on. 
 
 "Here you are, old man; this way," said Cav, leading 
 the piper, with pipes piping full blast, straight into the room 
 where we were reciting to Stought. 
 
 Tableau, red light and curtain. 
 
 I could go on all night. ^But you already have twice as 
 much as you want. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Bennie. 
 
 It might reasonably be supposed that after such a day 
 Ninety-Nine would have been willing to go to bed. The 
 effect of the Chantant, however, was intoxicating, — not 
 that the mild punch served through the audience while the 
 stage was being set for the play is open to suspicion, but 
 the whole affair had been rejuvenating. Sleep was abnor- 
 mal. 
 
 Then too, there had been an after Chantant-lunch at 
 
 89 
 
Scotty's where Pitt and the others had bought out the food 
 supply. Trays of pint milk bottles, crullers served on canes, 
 sandwiches and coffee. Not supper, not breakfast. "Jam- 
 boreeing" George called it in the Vicennial song; and "jam- 
 bo.reeing" will have to do. Once in a while some other reun- 
 er and would-be rejuvenator poked his head in only to be 
 greeted with a chorus of "All sold out !" 
 
 Back to Middle Massachusetts. Out came the piano 
 from its safe resting place in the North Hall room and the 
 Chantant sequel was instantly in full swing. Cav was at the 
 piano, taking up great handfuls of chords. At his ear, and 
 beside and behind him, Bennie whispered and prompted and 
 brooded, alive with the music and poetry of it all. At times 
 with a swift motion he furnished a missing chord. Mrs. 
 Gannon did an impromptu solo dance which George pro- 
 mised to include in the next '99 program. Pitt started to 
 prompt Cav on the air of "At the end of the rainbow is hap- 
 piness," and finished by singing it all himself. Out came 
 George with a new song, Joe Hobb's version of "Till we 
 meet again," received just too late to be printed in "Ninety- 
 Nine's Own Songs." 
 
 TILL WE MEET AGAIN 
 
 There's a song in the land of our Mother 
 
 Each true heart has heard with a sigh 
 
 Over the dear mem'ried halls 
 
 Its sweet echo falls 
 
 As her loyal sons bid her good-bye. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Smile awhile, Old Mother, fond and true 
 As the years roll by, we'll come to you 
 Then our skies will seem more blue 
 When to Dartmouth's halls we hasten 
 Campus lights will gleam so cheerily 
 Every day will be a memory 
 We'll work and pray each day for thee 
 Till we meet again. 
 
 90 
 
A Moment with "Clothespins' 
 
 
 ;|:::iw-r;;:;:*i 
 
 The Hill Called Happy 
 
 Hungry As Well As Happy 
 
Its sweet minor melody caught the ear at once, and it 
 was sung through with a will. 
 
 "Good boy, Joe," called Bob. But Joe was not there to 
 hear, for he had had to take the Sunday afternoon train 
 back to Boston. 
 
 Two o'clock struck. Several ladies went upstairs. Re- 
 luctantly the others and the men began to follow. An auto 
 horn blew outside, Dave Storrs and Bill Currier had come 
 to motor Win Adams and K. Beal to the morning train for 
 Boston. Between Hanover and the June the night 
 wind blew sharp and cool. And back in Middle Massachu- 
 setts the lights went out one by one. Even the Huckinses 
 and the Eastmans stopped "visiting" after a time, while the 
 Executive Committee dissolved its post-Chantant session as 
 the first morning cock crow announced that ordinary folks 
 were beginning to get ready for a new day. 
 
 THE CLASS MEETING 
 Monday Morning, June 23 
 
 Again that inexorable Time Table ! Out came the De- 
 cennial linen dusters and tall hats from their five-year slum- 
 bers. Out burst Joe Gannon's relentless "Fa-a-all in !" and 
 soon the Campus grass yielded once more to the firm and' 
 stately march of the '99 host. The youth-reviving thrill of 
 the Chantant and its all-night sequel had worked its final 
 miracle, and as Freshmen again, each in his accustomed 
 place of twenty-four years back, the brotherhood of '99 
 stood or sat. There were gaps a-many where that lover of 
 a "shining mark" had struck down kindly faces and warm 
 hearts, or where the stern summons of imperative duty had 
 forbidden that the physical presence should that morning 
 fill its waiting niche. Put filled-out chests and broadened 
 
 91 
 
shoulders closed the spaces in the ranks. And in the front 
 row boys and girls, a whole line's width, gave proof that '99 
 traditions were not born to die. Though many a frontal 
 lock or mop of hair had beaten an enforced retreat, to com- 
 pensate, a lusty vine had covered the once bare stone arch 
 and though the walk in front showed the cracks of time, 
 the same numerals of '99 stood out with a distinctness that 
 seemed to express the indomitable spirit which they typify. 
 But the sky was overcast and threatening, and there was 
 still the picture on the steps of Dartmouth Hall to be taken. 
 Wives and friends and children added made a goodly group. 
 See for yourselves, you who were not there, and register in 
 the deepest, safest chamber of your memory the solemn 
 vow: 
 
 Vicennial gathering saw us not 
 Husband and wife, and youth and tot, 
 But when the years count twenty-five 
 Dartmouth shall see us if alive. 
 
 Buy a little iron savings bank and a five-year, line-a-day 
 diary tomorrow and put that sentiment down as a sacred 
 New Year's resolution under January 1, 1920, January 1, 
 192 1, January 1, 1922, January 1, 1923, and January 1, lp2 k. 
 And every time you come to one of those dates put a big 
 round nickel in the bank for everybody in the family. And 
 don't draw it out a week later either to pay the coal bill. 
 
 Well, business is business, so there had to be a class 
 meeting. Dartmouth A was the place. First when Field Mar- 
 shal Joe had enforced something resembling parliamentary 
 order, Jim Barney presented Buck, in behalf of the Class, 
 a colonial pewter mug for coming the longest distance to 
 the Reunion. Buck's response was unpremeditated and in 
 his best humorous vein, but the secretary has been unable 
 to secure from Skeet or Chuck or Lena or any other source 
 an authentic version of it. But it sparkles in the memory 
 
 92 
 
of those present like that long-sought but not-to-be-secured 
 shining carbuncle of Hawthorne's tale. 
 
 Then the ladies took a hand again. Up stepped Mrs. 
 Greenwood and flourishing a round piece of tinware as big 
 as a saucer with the numerals '99 upon it, summoned forth 
 the redoubtable author and cop of the Morality Playette. 
 When he stood in apprehensive silence before her she pro- 
 nounced the following : 
 
 "Mr. Donnie Donahue, 
 The ladies would like to present to you 
 In appreciation of your lovely play 
 This medal, on your chest to lay — 
 'Police '99.' 
 
 i 55 
 
 Donnie's reply to this poetical onslaught was inaudible, 
 but if a movie camera had been present to catch his gestures 
 and gesticulations, the inimitable motions of his hands, fing- 
 ers, arms, and mouth, all as if he were uttering a speech 
 of profound gratitude, then indeed there would be side- 
 splitting laughter in the sage garden of the Muses, as there 
 was then in Dartmouth A. 
 
 There came next like a thunderbolt from the blue the 
 resignation of George Clark from the secretaryship which 
 he had filled with unexampled distinction for five years. 
 There was unanimous dissent, Jim Richardson proposed 
 life tenure, others moved heaven and earth to shake the 
 Secretary's purpose. But he was adamant. His argument 
 in brief was that '99 had been standing for a five-year rota- 
 tion of secretaries, that it was a right policy, and that it 
 wouldn't be right to give it up as a policy ; that he had been 
 originally elected on, that understanding ; that a new secre- 
 tary was like kneading dough over from a different angle ; 
 etc , etc. At last, with a friendly little ache in their hearts, 
 but with the recognition that as always they must bow to 
 the will of their leader even in this latest, maddest wish 
 
 93 
 
they accepted the inevitable, and "took a chance" on K. Beal 
 for five years. And K., being absent, became "it." 
 
 Nor were all their troubles over then, for Warren Ken- 
 dall likewise insisted on retiring after ten years' service on 
 the Executive Committee The opposition was as cordial 
 as in George's case, — and as futile. Buck facetiously rose, 
 cried out, "I am Samuel Burns, Jr., of Omaha, Nebraska. 
 I nominate myself for this Committee. Everybody in 
 favor? Nobody. Unanimously not elected," and sat down 
 amidst applause. 
 
 Getting down to serious business, Pitt Drew was form- 
 ally elected to fill the vacancy left by Warren's withdrawal. 
 Pitt like K., was not at the meeting. Mrs. Drew dramatical- 
 ly interposed at that moment to inquire, "Is there any of 
 the Executive Committee's work that a man's wife can do? 
 Because if there is, he mustn't be elected." But the steam 
 roller was now running ponderously and smoothly, and Jim 
 Barney, Treasurer and senior member of the new commit- 
 tee, entered into his second five-year period of service with 
 K., and Pitt as co-agents. By a happy inspiration on some- 
 body's part, Ex-Secretaries Elmer, Donnie and George were 
 made ex-officio members of that Executive Committee. 
 
 THE '94 TEA 
 
 After the Class Day exercises in the afternoon came the 
 christening of Leon in Pap's room. Then with Leon on 
 one arm and the fair Lena on the other, Hawley Chase 
 made a profound and dignified address committing the 
 precious pair to the custody of the '99 archives until 1924. 
 
 But this solemn function was only introductory to the 
 great social event of the day, — the reception of the Class 
 
 94 
 
of '94 to the Class of '991 at the former's headquarters at 
 Wheeler Hall. This was an event not down on the '99 Time 
 Table at all and it was as hospitable a surprise to us as was 
 our own Chantant to '94 the night before. 
 
 Governor Bartlett was of course the lion of the occa- 
 sion, who shared the honors with Mayor Adams of Spring- 
 field, Congressman Burroughs, and Judge Allen. Major 
 Robert P. Johnston, known more familiarly to a few inti- 
 mate friends as "Bob" was as usual in attendance upon His 
 Excellency. As a matter of fact, Bob carried some responsi- 
 bility that day for there had come to him straight from the 
 National Capitol a caution to beware of Bolshevist attacks. 
 It appears then that to Bob and to the other members of 
 the Governor's staff, the credit must be given for the peace- 
 ful conditions under which the friendly and social affair 
 came off. All over the lawn in front of Wheeler Hall the 
 '94 ladies busied themselves in making the '99 ladies feel 
 at home. Among the hostesses was the sister-in-law of 
 Montie Fuller. 
 
 At a long, prettily decorated table near the door of the 
 Hall the daughters and wives of '94 served punch and ice 
 cream and cake. Surely no ice cream like it or in quanti- 
 ties so generous had ever appeared on Hanover greensward 
 before. Specially prepared in Concord and expressly de- 
 livered for this occasion, there entered into its flavor the 
 essence of sunlight and breeze and goodwill that makes the 
 afternoon still linger in our memory. Nor could the friendly 
 chaffing of '94 men on our chevrons of reunion credits, or 
 their mock insistence that they never bothered with insignia 
 for they reuned every year, disturb the genial atmosphere 
 of cordial Dartmouth comradeship. 
 
 THE DINNER 
 
 The ladies having been dismissed to the play and Perry 
 Fairfield having successfully cleared his dining-room of the 
 debris of ordinary eaters, the '99 men trooped to tlie large 
 
 95 
 
Inn dining-room. At the left as they entered was a long 
 table at which sat Jerry as Toastmaster, with his speaking 
 cohort and guests. The other men sat in groups at smaller 
 tables. 
 
 Soon after the dinner began there came in by special 
 messenger, George Snowden, — the indispensable factotum of 
 all '99 reunions — a greeting from the ladies. The greeting 
 was in the form of a handsome bouquet of rosebuds for 
 the men in general and a large box of candies for George 
 Clark in particular. Accompanying the candy was a verse 
 of appreciation, which having been read to the company by 
 the Toastmaster and the sweets duly presented on a silver 
 salver to the Secretary by George Snowden, there was loud 
 applause : 
 
 Here's a note for Georgie Clark, 
 Won't you read it out ? 
 His were always coming. 
 This is turn about. 
 
 Here's a box for Georgie Clark 
 Tied with Dartmouth green. 
 Men beware ! It's just for him — 
 Manager supreme. 
 
 Give a cheer for Georgie Clark 
 Make it loud and clear 
 None could plan us better fun 
 To mark the passing year. 
 
 Then accept, Oh Georgie Clark, 
 Caramel and peppermint, halting rhyme, 
 And all the rest. 
 From the girls of '99. 
 
 There were 61 all told who sat down to the excellent 
 menu, the full list of whom is printed later. But especial 
 
 96 
 
mention must be made here of Hon. Melvin O. Adams '71, 
 genial '99 comrade of long standing, and Prof. Charles 
 Darwin Adams } yy, one of the most beloved teachers of 
 our time. Then there were Sam Smith, who had been able 
 to drive over with friends just for Monday; and Guy Speare 
 and Herbert Lyster with the latter's son Leland, who after 
 a record breaking trip by collapsing autos and procrasti- 
 nating trains were able to spend only an hour or two around 
 midnight about the table of good fellowship, slipping out 
 then for the early return train north. Especially was it a 
 pity that circumstances should have so contracted Herbert 
 Lyster's first reunion and made it possible for but so few to 
 meet his fine-appearing son, tall like Herbert himself. 
 
 In the course of the dinner Alfred A. Wheat '89 came 
 into the room bringing from his Class cordial greetings 
 which were warmly received by '99; Jim Richardson was 
 delegated to return with Mr. Wheat and reciprocate the 
 good wishes. Also later, E. K. Hall '94 spoke on behalf 
 of the Trustees, urging contributions to the Scholarship 
 Funds of Dartmouth, especially for the sake of drawing 
 back to the College the boys of the hill towns of New Hamp- 
 shire and Vermont. 
 
 The Tribe in Council 
 
 The after-dinner program was called the "Tribe in 
 Council. Big-Chief-Gerould, with War Whoops from War 
 Workers." The "Whoops" were from George Clark, sub- 
 stituting impromptu for Frank Staley detained unavoidably 
 in Washington, on "Saving Food"; Bill Hutchinson on 
 "Growing Food" ; Joe Gannon on "Putting New York over 
 the Top," substituting extemporaneously for Buck Burns; 
 Warren Kendall on "Moving Things" ; Peddie Miller on 
 "The Other Fellow" ; Bob Johnston on "Home Fires" ; Prof. 
 Adams on "The College and the War", Herb Wattie on 
 "Experiences in Belgium," substituting offhand for Sewall ; 
 Cav on "Arms and the Man," and Nelson Brown on " '99 
 and the War." 
 
 97 
 
There was no stenographer present, and so the speeches 
 are only in part reproduced. Joe's, Bob's, Cav's and Nel- 
 son's do not appear at all. The basis of Wattie's talk, his 
 final report submitted of the "Record of Co. A., 102nd 
 Field Battalion, U. S. Army" appears at the end of the sec- 
 tion devoted in this Report to personal news of the Class. 
 These five speeches, therefore, we regretfully omit, to- 
 gether with the Toastmaster's remarks in introducing those 
 speakers. 
 
 One story that Bob told, however, has been preserved. 
 Just before supper he went into the barber's across the way. 
 
 "What you all togged out for, Bob?" says the barber. 
 
 "O", I says, "I'm a Major." 
 
 "Major!" he snorts. "If you're a Major, I'm a French 
 ace." 
 
 Jerry had a large map which Bill Sears had drawn 
 for him on which the United States and France and Eng- 
 land were in focus and the rest of the world out of focus 
 so to speak. In focus part he had points where '99ers had 
 been both in France and in the United States in war acti- 
 vity and he used this map cleverly in introducing the speak- 
 ers. 
 
 Toastmaster : One of the most interesting and valuable 
 contributions of America to the common cause was food. 
 Moreover, the self-discipline of America in saving food was 
 a good thing of itself. Without the efficient Food Admin- 
 istration at Washington, the glorious achievements of the 
 country would not have been possible; and '99 had an im- 
 portant part in that administration. Pearl was chief of the 
 statistical section of the work and one of Hoover's most 
 valued advisers; Staley was close to the centre of the ad- 
 ministration; Willard compiled facts on which to base ac- 
 tions ; and finally George Clark was summoned to Washing- 
 ton, when Pearl was sent to Europe, because they could no- 
 where find a man so likely to deal justly with questions of 
 commodity prices and supplies. The Secretary w'/ll be too 
 
 98 
 
modest to tell you what he did, but he will tell you some- 
 thing of what was done. 
 
 SAVING FOOD 
 G. G. C. 
 
 Mr. Toastmaster and Ninety- Niners, those inside the hall and 
 those outside (ladies at windows), I used to think that it would 
 be the height of accomplishment to be tied up to a "System," say 
 one like that represented by our distinguished classmate by adoption, 
 Mr. Melvin O. Adams, sitting yonder, that to be so tied up would 
 free one of all worries and permit life to be enjoyed along broad 
 gauge lines with easy gradients. Tonight I'm of the very opposite 
 opinion. For the last week, the last three days, the last day, as I 
 have felt the hand of fate slowly but surely substituting me for 
 Frank Staley on the dinner program, I have inwardly been bewail- 
 ing the fact that the Executive Committee, including myself, ever 
 permitted itself to get tied up to this cut and dried after-dinner sys- 
 tem of toasts that should show a cross-section of '99's war services. 
 
 You can't appreciate the progress of my trepidation. First as I 
 opened Frank Staley's telegram saying the Treasury Department, 
 whither he has recently gone, refused to let him off because of press 
 of work ; next as Raymond Pearl on the golf links Saturday an- 
 nounced that he had got to rush to Orono to receive a degree 
 from the University of Maine today. Then as the realization broke 
 upon me that Tony Willard like a wise owl blinked a stand pat re- 
 fusal from his limb on the Washington tree and that I, the least 
 worthy and least fitted of the '99 group in the Food Administration 
 to respond for the work of that group, would have to respond to the 
 toast of "Saving Food," just to keep the "system" intact. The sins 
 of the fathers aren't always visited upon their children. Tonight 
 they are visited upon the fathers themselves and you. 
 
 Pity me in pitying yourselves. Frank Staley with the buoyancy 
 and sparkle of Freshman year, that are still his, would have told 
 you much better than I can the history of Raymond Pearl's work 
 as head of the Statistical Division of the Food Administration. 
 How summoned by Mr. Hoover he put his knowledge of how to 
 handle statistics in the modern and big way at the service of the 
 Government and with a clerk or two at first, expanded to a force of 
 five hundred, with a dozen sub-heads and whole batteries of clerks 
 keeping an unerring hand upon the supply of food and prices, not 
 
 99 
 
only in this country but abroad. How he beguiled Tony Willard 
 to dare the maze of Washingtonian war time life and how Tony 
 became an expert on vegetable and fish packs and milling. How 
 he got Steve Chase '96 to head the meat section and how Steve's 
 practical proficiency and tact proved one of the most efficient cogs 
 in the Food Administration and a persona summa gratia to Mr. 
 Hoover. How Pearl curtly captured Frank himself by telegraph and 
 put him in charge of the Reports Section, which grew under his 
 able administration by leaps and bounds. How Mr. Hoover and 
 Mr. Rickard then stole Frank away and made him administrative 
 manager where his alertness, tact and judgment exerted itself and 
 made itself felt within the whole Food Administration and as it 
 reached outside to the public, Frank's modesty might have made 
 him reticent about some of these things, but I doubt if in speaking 
 to you he could have failed to unconsciously show you some of these 
 things for which he effectively stood and which made his work in 
 the Food Administration a credit to himself, to Pearl's judgment 
 of him, and to Ninety-Nine. Probably he would have told you, too, 
 about another Dartmouth man, Bob Brown '04, whom Pearl asso- 
 ciated with Frank in the Reports Section and the latter's effective 
 work. Perhaps, too, of Raymond's book on "Food Consumption in 
 the United States" which Raymond pulled together along with his 
 other work and of Raymond's trip to Europe to represent the 
 United States in the inter-allied Food Council held in Paris and 
 London which had the problem of allocating to each of the allies 
 their proportion of the available food supplies and finally of Ray- 
 mond's towering personality in the Food Administration itself. It 
 was all something '99 can be very proud of. 
 
 Of my own small part, very minor part in the Statistical Section 
 of the Food Administration, I feel quite sure that Frank would 
 have glossed it over and said that all it amounted to was the oc- 
 casional receipt by him of a gray colored chart like this with a few 
 lines on it that looked for all the world more like a mess of mud- 
 worms crawling across its surface than anything intelligible. I 
 could heartily agree with him, for, after one had spent hours, some- 
 times weeks, in pulling together the data that reduced itself finally 
 into such form, a feeling of "the incongruity of its congruousness" 
 asserted itself. It is therefore only because I do not want to get 
 into Donny's classification that "modesty in '99's circles is the worst 
 form of conceit" and because it woud be a bad example at the very 
 start for one of the fathers of this system of toasts wherein the per- 
 sonal element is the main thing, to be silent of himself, that I re- 
 luctantly say something of my small part. 
 
 Briefly Pearl somehow got the notion that Tim Lynch and my- 
 self were not doing our real share making a New Hampshire farm 
 
 100 
 
speed up in production and that I could help him by correlating the 
 food prices that came into his Statistical Department by putting 
 them into the shape of price indices. Demurrers with respect to 
 fitness for the work were of no avail. After certain jeeing and haw- 
 ing between us I reached Washington two hours before he was 
 leaving for Paris and between throwing things into his steamer 
 trunk in the back parlor and receiving Italian High Commissioners 
 in the front parlor he gave me sort of swim-out O'Grady instruc- 
 tions and the next; morning I went down to the Food Administra- 
 tion: As there was no other space available, I fortunately fell heir 
 for the period of Ray's absence to his own private office. His secre- 
 tary, Frank Staley, and Steve Chase and all the other heads in the 
 Statistical Branch started me and helpfully and patiently brought 
 all the knowledge of their respective branches to the work in hand. 
 Tony Willard's office was nearby. Regularly between 4 and 5 P. M. 
 Tony's velasque form would step into my doorway and he would 
 come in to smoke his cigarette and see that all was going well. 
 He always said something, for instance like "Don't get me started 
 on Roosevelt for I might do something rashly Wilsonian" to cheer 
 up the fagging hours. Eventually a kind of order evolved out of 
 chaotic beginnings. Tables of tonnage production, tonnage mar- 
 keted and tonnage consumption for the primary foods were evolved, 
 for a series of weighing factors, for a new series of index figures 
 on producers' prices, wholesale prices and retail prices and event- 
 ually too the indices themselves were completed and graphed. Event- 
 ually there were various sets of them illustrative of various phases 
 of price situations. -> 
 
 Here is one chart which shows in mudworm fashion the curves of 
 three sets of prices, producers, wholesale and retail, on a pre-war 
 base. The Food Administration had three problems, conservation of 
 supply, stimulation of production, stabilization of prices. All three 
 were interwoven and bore upon one another. Sometimes that is 
 forgotten and also that the bulk of the rise in prices had been pre- 
 vious to the establishment of the Food Administration. But while 
 the curves rise further you will note that there was a steadying, a 
 flattening out and even drops in them after the Food Administra- 
 tion took hand in things. As reflected in the course of prices itself 
 these mudworms really do show that the Food Administration was 
 accomplishing its objectives. 
 
 Another chart that may interest you is that on Post-War prices. 
 On Armistice Day the question arose what is to be the course of 
 post-war prices? What were the price curves after previous wars, 
 was asked? Those might be suggestive if not indicative, ergo the 
 prices during the Crimean, Civil, Franco-Prussian, Boer and World 
 War were taken and compared with the pre-war prices in each case. 
 
 101 
 
Note on the chart how the Civil War and World War prices in 
 the United States parallel each other in rise, until the Food Ad- 
 ministration began to deflect the latter. After the Civil War there 
 was an immediate drop, not so with other wars. Some of them 
 snow a continuing high level. In Germany there was even a rise 
 after the Franco-Prussian war both in interior produce and im- 
 ported produce before the kick downward came and the most you 
 can deduce from this sort of comparison upon whether post-war 
 prices in the United States today will drop is an absolute neutrality. 
 
 The foregoing do not seem to have much bearing on "Saving 
 Food." They were merely useful tools for keeping tabs and seeing 
 whether formulated policies were acting according to formulae. It 
 took the collection of many varied kinds and untold bits of data 
 by Pearl's department to give helpful direction to the policies to be 
 put in force. Its response to that need in hours of emergency like 
 the signing of the Armistice, — when not only the United States 
 authorities bound for the peace conference, but the allies themselves 
 called upon it for data upon the then food situation and the Statis- 
 tical Section worked night and day to put this in shape to send over 
 with the President, — is what Pearl contributed in the way of war 
 service and what each of the other '99ers with him tried to help out 
 with, whether in large or small measure, according to the parts as- 
 signed them. 
 
 That Ingersoll watch of mine that Long Jim said was auctioned 
 off last evening for 75c was so poor that the fellow insisted that 
 it be taken back. I put it down on the table for a five minute 
 guide. As I "have glanced at it from time to time I've been won- 
 dering why the hands didn't move faster. I see now. The thing 
 has stopped. Warren says I have been going for twenty-five min- 
 utes. More evidence, Mr. Toastmaster, that you ought not to have 
 insisted on my taking Frank's place. I apologize to you all, deeply. 
 
 Toastmaster : Food could not be saved until it was grown. 
 War gardens and war farms were immensely important. 
 Here again '99 made a notable record. Hutchinson, for 
 example, raised two blades of wheat where only one was 
 raised before. I am going to call on Bill Hutch to tell us 
 how he did it. 
 
 Mr. Toastmaster, Classmates, and Friends. 
 
 When we were in the Thayer School Professor Fletcher told 
 us that there were once two brothers, one studied law, the other 
 engineering, but the one that studied engineering practised law and 
 the one that studied law practised engineering. I served my time 
 
 102 
 
studying agriculture over there in Norwich, then I spent some 
 time studying engineering over here in Hanover, now I am apply- 
 ing both courses to agriculture down in western Pennsylvania. 
 When a man hears the name of Pittsburg mentioned he thinks of 
 coal, steel, oil, and smoke. We live about fifteen miles out of Pitts- 
 burg on the .edge of Washington County, in the midst of the bitu- 
 minous coal region. It is hard to realize when we are out on the 
 surface tilling the soil that down two or three hundred feet below 
 there are hundreds of men taking out a seam of coal. It will be 
 years before the Pittsburg vein of coal, on which they are now work- 
 ing, will all be taken out. Every few feet below this vein of coal 
 there are a number of other veins so it will be many, many years 
 before the soft coal will be exhausted in this section. 
 
 We are fortunate not to live near the coke regions as the sul- 
 phur fumes from the coke ovens kill nearly all of the vegetation. 
 
 During the war the coal miners were very patriotic and worked 
 hard to help keep the world's coal bins supplied. When the nation 
 called for more coal many an old man who had not worked in the 
 pit for years put a pit lamp on his cap and started for the mine. 
 With such a demand for labor, not only in the coal business but in 
 the manufacture of all kinds of steel and iron products, with high 
 wages and eight hour day to boot made it almost impossible to se- 
 cure farm help. At the same time Mr. Hoover asked the farmer 
 to grow two blades of wheat where he had formerly grown but one. 
 Not only that, but the country wanted more wool, more pork, more 
 beef and more dairy products. 
 
 Our county agent told me that last year we raised about 160,000 
 pounds of wool in our county, which is very good when you con- 
 sider that the miners' dogs almost drove the sheep out of that sec- 
 tion. 
 
 Now Jerry told me to be personal but I don't know whether 
 that is what you fellows want to hear or not. We are breeding and 
 raising registered Holstein cattle. Two years ago we remodeled 
 our dairy barn, put in cement floors and mangers, steel stanchions 
 with water bowls between each two cows so that evefy animal can 
 drink fresh spring water at any time, with plenty of light and venti- 
 lation. In fact we did everything we could to make the cows 
 comfortable and keep them healthy. We do not sell certified milk 
 biit one of the secrets of success in the dairy business is to have 
 good equipment. It is hard to hire competent help for a dairy farm, 
 but with modern equipment it is far easier to hold your help. 
 
 Some of the things that we do to hold our help on the farm 
 is to give them a comfortable house to live in so that the wife will 
 not want to move. I always fat them a pig also, and when I plant 
 
 103 
 
my potatoes I put some in for the hired man right beside by own. 
 He also keeps his cow with our herd. These are some of the things 
 wnich help to keep him interested in the business. 
 
 In spite of the shortage of labor last year we increased the 
 wheat acreage in our country to about 20,000 acres which is 25% 
 above the normal. We shall cut twenty-two acres at "home and the 
 prospects are that we shall thresh about five hundred bushels. 
 
 This has been called a day of specialists. The lawyer, the 
 merchant or the engineer, each must specialize along his line of 
 business and so must the man who can balance the ration for a 
 dairy cow if he expects to win in his especial line. Since the Civil 
 War the majority of the eastern farmers have not received a living 
 wage and this has driven a great many young men from the farm. 
 I believe the time has come when a man who is qualified can make 
 a good living on a fertile eastern farm. Our children never saw a 
 wood pile until they came to New England about a month ago. At 
 home we get natural gas from a well on our farm which furnishes 
 us with free light, fuel, and power for the gas engine. 
 
 If you should ask me why I prefer the farm, my reply would 
 be that I have a comfortable home, we are independent and we all 
 have good health which I did not have in the city. 
 
 Toastmaster : No matter how much food was raised and 
 saved, no matter how many soldiers were trained ; we could 
 never have made a beginning towards winning the war if 
 it had not been for the railroads. The human animal is 
 harnessed to his own inventions. It was the Railroad Ad- 
 ministration that kept things moving over the rails, and a 
 member of '99 was shepherd of the freight cars. Anyone 
 who has watched events knows how important Warren Ken- 
 dall's job was, and how well he did his work. I call upon 
 him to tell us about war transportation. 
 
 The reigning Czar of '99, through his toast-minister, Captain 
 Gerould, has asked that this number on your program shall be a 
 ten minute survey of "Moving Things." From whence came this 
 inspired title no one has volunteered, so liberties may be taken with- 
 out fear of transgression. 
 
 No form of emphasis was passed along with these two words 
 and before now you have, with me, doubtless wondered where to 
 place the accent. If it is "moving THINGS," I am it, along with sev- 
 eral thousands of others thrust involuntarily and otherwise into our 
 
 104 
 
Nation's Capitol within the past two years. For I have five times 
 found a different abiding place — after duly paying rents, — and have 
 eight times changed my place of labor ; a ninth move now impends. 
 That you should have the slightest interest in any of this detail is 
 beyond my comprehension. So I look elsewhere for the real intent 
 of our versatile leader. 
 
 To change the accent to the first word and giving my title the 
 expression "MOVING things," opens a wide opportunity for en- 
 deavor as applied to Washington. However, I hesitate to start any- 
 thing as there is no end to available material from Tony and his 
 intricate statistical machinery (and the operators, of course) to the 
 ever present hum of the airplane, to say nothing of satrap Burleson 
 and other pests in power which if not present in body are there in 
 spirit and influence. But interesting as these things be, I suspect 
 it is not of them you call on me to my feet. 
 
 There is but one form of emphasis left, — that which places the 
 accent on both words "MOVING THINGS" and I will briefly out- 
 line some of the activities of the Railroad Administration, particu- 
 larly those with which I am most familiar. At the outset it should 
 be made clear that the Railroads, the War and Navy, the Emergency 
 Fleet Corporation, the Housing Commission and other governmental 
 agencies were indissolubly mixed in the one paramount aim of Win- 
 ning the War. Each has been an auxiliary of the other, but none 
 could function without the Railroad. It was the cooperation of the 
 whole that turned the trick. Very naturally assistance in emergencies 
 was usually sought of the Railroads, and they were usually and 
 uniformly THERE. When New England was threatened with a 
 Coal Shortage, with double the normal consumption and an almost 
 complete loss, due to the German submarine, of coastwise shipping 
 which carries at least half the normal movement of coal to New 
 England shores, it was put up to the Railroads to take up the slack, 
 and they did ! Early in 1918 the armies of our Allies were on re- 
 duced rations because of Food Shortage "over there." Unless de- 
 ficiencies were caught up in 40 days, general surrender seemed in- 
 evitable. Mr. Hoover fixed the necessary requirements and the sea- 
 board food stocks from that time to the present have b^en kept 
 ahead of shipping. The emergency was met. 
 
 Sacrifices, yes, but what of it? What measuring stick shall 
 we use in making our calculations? What has been our sacrifice 
 in body and material as compared with that of others? This leads 
 me to say that in my Washington experience human nature has as- 
 serted itself as never before. We have seen both the strong and the 
 weak, but I regret to say more than we have liked of the purely sel- 
 fish side. At a time when commercial interests generally were being 
 
 105 
 
called upon to sacrifice in the interests of the Government's pro- 
 gram for Winning the War, all sorts of subterfuges were resorted 
 to by individuals for purposes of circumventing outstanding trans- 
 portation restrictions various authorities had felt to be absolutely 
 necessary to carry out the program. I will mention but an instance 
 or two : An energetic fellow from Brooklyn called persistently on 
 one Railroad Administration official after another in the interests 
 of shipping a "near Beer" of his manufacture through the extremely 
 dense munition manufacturing and shipbuilding territory located 
 along the lines of the railroads between New York and Washington 
 to miscellaneous points in the south. The rail lines, in this stretch of 
 territory were staggering under a load never previously dreamed 
 of and yet this man made as much rumpus as he could because we 
 denied him the privilege of shipping his sloppy product to the south. 
 He got all possible explanations and minutiae of sympathy. An- 
 other fellow, this one of Jewish extraction, after every possible cour- 
 tesy and assistance in getting material through to fill his commercial 
 orders thought to increase his own profits by falsifying to the ex- 
 tent of using the name of the Government in procuring transporta- 
 tion. Needless to say he has been under indictment. 
 
 All of this practice, I submit, had no part either directly or 
 otherwise in Uncle Sam's program. Probably very few beside 
 those directly concerned fully appreciate the burden the railroads 
 have borne with respect to the transportation of troops. It requires 
 a brief statement of figures to make this impressive. From Amer- 
 ica's declaration of war for the subsequent two years or up to April 
 30, 1919, there were handled in special movements about 14,400,000 
 men. This includes the draftees from their homes to the camps, 
 and the movements from one camp to another as well as to and 
 from the ports of embarkation. It does not include any of the en- 
 listed men or officers who have travelled singly and under orders 
 from the War Department, and neither does it include the constant 
 and heavy movement of men who are on furlough. To transport 
 this soldiery has required a total of 20,969 trains averaging 12 cars 
 each, which have moved an average of 803 miles each, or a total 
 mileage of special trains of over 16,800,000. Expressed in car miles 
 this movement of troops ran up the wonderful total of 202,000,000 
 passenger equipment miles. 
 
 There have been some complaints made that passenger service 
 has broken down but it impresses me that with the above facts be- 
 fore us such criticism is made with very poor grace. History does 
 not record either here or abroad any such movement of troops 
 as the American Railroads have handled and all, mind you, in ad- 
 dition to the regular normal passenger travel. May I ask at this 
 
 106 
 
time if you have knowledge of any train accidents? Is not this 
 factor of safety something for which credit may be taken? 
 
 So much for the passenger situation. One of the first freight 
 movements the railroads were called upon to handle was 110,000 car- 
 loads of lumber from points in the South and the extreme Northwest 
 to the various cantonments for immediate construction purposes. 
 Very soon the shipbuilding program was under way. Again lumber 
 was mgved long distances. Government activities sprang up here and 
 there, and particularly in the eastern territory. All of these added 
 burdens were thrown upon the railroads and while it is true com- 
 mercial activity was to some extent curtailed by transportation, and 
 to the extent that Government requirements were paramount, I doubt 
 if anyone suffered much and there are no cases of complaint worthy 
 of mention where railroads failed to meet the demands of the war 
 program. 
 
 Not alone have we had our own war expansion to deal with but 
 our Allies have drawn largely upon us, as we all know, for food 
 necessities and otherwise. One very small item, to illustrate the 
 extent of the complication, if you please, of some of these activi- 
 ties. The supply of tanning extract abroad, a very necessary war 
 material, and used in large quantities, became exhausted. A por- 
 tion of the normal supply of this* commodity comes from South 
 America. There was no available shipping. We must meet the 
 deficit. Tanning extract is largely manufactured from chemical 
 wood, so-called, in eastern Tennessee, West Virginia and north- 
 eastern Pennsylvania. Wood must season at least a year prior to 
 its manufacture into extract. There was no time to lose if our fast 
 disappearing supply was to be caught up. A committee represent- 
 ing the tanners of the United States was established in Washington 
 and we worked with them in meeting this emergency. Scores of 
 other similar situations could be cited but it would be the same 
 story. 
 
 While I may be considered a bit enthusiastic about the accom- 
 plishment of the railroads in the crisis through which we passed 
 I feel I have reason to be proud of this accomplishment, partially 
 because of my very humble connection with the Administration at 
 Washington. 
 
 Probably no one at this time will undertake to forecast the fu- 
 ture. Those of us in Washington are too near to get a proper 
 perspective. I feel, however, mere has been much real good done 
 through conditions which have been forced upon us, and some of 
 which will be lasting. We recognize a greater degree of community 
 of interest than ever before. We realize and appreciate our inter- 
 dependence. These factors, to be successfully met, require a measure 
 
 107 
 
of administration from a central authority which it seems to me must 
 inevitably be located wherever other governmental authority may 
 have its headquarters and this of course means Washington. I 
 look to see Congress enact some such legislation. 
 
 I wish I could pay proper tribute to the other '99 men who have 
 been in Washington within the two year period just passed, not that 
 I could measure their deeds as of more account than those of others 
 who maihtain the usual tenor of their ways, yet some I know made 
 personal sacrifices and were able to quickly adjust themselves to 
 the new conditions and hence felt it possible to heed their call, and 
 while I cannot readily detail the full intent and meaning of all their 
 service stripes I do know sufficient to assure you that the record is 
 a most faithful and honorable one, so faithful in fact that con- 
 science keeps three of these men in Washington who would other- 
 wise be here. The real tribute ably paid and to be paid by others is 
 to those of our number who went overseas and to whom the highest 
 honor and glory and gifts within our power are due and to whom 
 even then full payment can never be made. It has been a glorious 
 achievement. 
 
 I may be accused of pan-ninety-nineism. This is not disturbing, 
 for we have twenty years behind us and this is a period when we 
 may properly take account of ourselves and reflect. We may justly 
 feel proud of every one of our fellows, all of whom have actually 
 gone out and done something. To my mind Dartmouth does not 
 possess a class which will show a better average of accomplishment, 
 and I use this word in its broadest sense and not in a mere matter 
 of dollars and cents. 
 
 Warren C. Kendall. 
 
 At this point the Toastmaster read telegrams from 
 Willis Hodgkins in the Southwest, and a cablegram of 
 greeting from Atwood and Martin in France. Extracts of 
 letters from Ash, Kimball, Kirk, and Norton were also 
 read, as well as an affecting post-card written to the Secre- 
 tary by Herbert Collar just before his death on March 14. 
 Mrs. Collar found it in one of his pockets ready to mail. It 
 says : — 
 
 108 
 
"Dear George: — 
 
 "(i) We plan to attend — male and females (3). 
 
 "(2) By train from Boston, due Hanover 3 P. M., 
 Saturday, June 21. 
 
 "Collar Family/' 
 
 Toastmaster : There is no point in arguing whether we 
 went into the war for our own sake, or for the sake of 
 other peoples. The latter motive was certainly not absent. 
 The time has come when nations must begin to look out for 
 the other fellow as well as for themselves. Better than 
 any one else in the class, Peddy Miller knows what is being 
 done in this country to that end. His work for the Czecho- 
 slovak people has brought him into contact with all such 
 movements, and he has played an exceedingly important 
 part in them. I call on Peddy Miller. 
 
 THE OTHER FELLOW 
 
 The Toastmaster assigned me the topic "The Other Fel- 
 low," saying that I could treat it in any way I wished, provided 
 I told about myself. This reminds me of a Freshman who 
 came to my room once when I was in college, to discuss a 
 theory he had about the Alter Ego. Of course, to a philo- 
 sophical monist it is easy to discuss anything and call it some- 
 thing else, and still be true to the principle of unity. I have 
 dicovered that language is a most useful method of conceal- 
 ment. That is the advantage of a high-brow vocabulary which 
 no one understands. I wanted to give a course next year on 
 "Contemporary Radicalism," but I was afraid it would not get 
 by the censor, so I called it "Present Tendencies in Social 
 Revaluation." 
 
 109 
 
I mention all this to prepare you for the pathological 
 psychoses about which I am going to talk later. The vivid 
 imagination of the class secretary in the last report supplied 
 all the information possible about me "as such," so I must 
 go into a new field. My experience for the past year has been 
 rather unique. I have been promoting revolutions and meet- 
 ing interesting people; my principal interest, however, lias been 
 neither of these things, but the development of a psychological 
 idea. I want to promote revolution, but I want it to be con- 
 ducted in a saner fashion than the traditional one. 
 
 The other night I had dinner with General Garibaldi. He 
 is a typical knight of the Middle Ages, intelligent, interesting, 
 and barbaric. He was in 142 battles before this war began, 
 preparing for the revolution which he felt sure was eventually 
 coming. He said that his men knew that if he captured a 
 German town, he would give them permission to sack it for 
 six hours; and when I said, "That's as bad as the Germans," 
 he replied, "But you don't know how bad they were," and told 
 us some things he had seen. Later I asked him what the Ital- 
 ians would do if the Peace Conference did not give them Fiume. 
 He instantly replied, "We will join the Germans." He feels 
 that this is a perfectly consistent attitude, because his only 
 means of measuring values is military. 
 
 The principle that has become most obvious to me is that 
 the conflict of groups is far more fundamental than the con- 
 flict of individuals; but hitherto men have concerned them- 
 selves only with the conflict itself, and not with the method 
 of its prosecution. 
 
 I think if we can analyze the effect of the oppression of 
 one group by another, we may succeed in eliminating oppres- 
 sion. In other words, we must substitute a scientific state- 
 ment or classification of forces, and a proper adjustment to 
 them, for mere reliance upon the haphazard methods of acci- 
 dental social evolution. 
 
 Now I claim that this is high-brow language enough to 
 mislead you into thinking that I am talking about almost any- 
 thing except myself. The one person that I am really talking 
 about just now is "Hobe." The following letter I have read in 
 a number of places. 
 
 "Our immediate ancestors, fathers and grandfathers, have 
 felt the iron heel upon their necks in their early life, and in 
 our childhood we were fed with stories of evictions, landlord 
 oppressions and religious persecutions which sent us to bed 
 
 110 
 
night after night in fear and trembling lest before morning some 
 Englishmen get into the house and snatch the children away 
 to chains and slavery. Growing older we went into the world 
 and met, more often than not, petty persecutions at the hands 
 of those who did not understand us and the things we held 
 to be sacred. We saw in it all the same spirit of persecution 
 translated to this side of the Atlantic which drove our fathers 
 from the land of their birth; and we have come to full man- 
 hood carrying chips on our shoulders because of the things 
 which men have said and done to us and against us on account 
 of our race and our religion." , 
 
 Carrying a chip on one's shoulder through life, is what I 
 mean by a pathological psychosis. The Don Quixote stunt 
 I am now engaged in is trying to get rid of pathological psy- 
 choses. The reason for this predilection of mine is probably 
 that at Dartmouth I got such an idea of democracy that it 
 has become a religion with me to try to promote it. Perhaps 
 one of the reasons I have taken up the Irish question is be- 
 cause Donahue has always held so sacred the democracy of 
 Dartmouth, that the association of ideas put it into my mind. 
 The support of the Irish cause is one of the two things I have 
 taken up since the last report, and I have learned to do it in 
 .such a way that everybody approves except the English. 
 
 The other activity is to help with the Korean revolution. 
 I have the distinction of being the Vice President of the League 
 of Friends of Korea. There were only six persons present 
 when the election occurred, so the selective draft for officers 
 was not overcrowded. But we must make the Japanese realize 
 that notwithstanding their economic necessity, or their cul- 
 tural superiority to the Koreans, if the present oppressive 
 domination continues, it will develop an Asiatic-Irish situa- 
 tion. It is already well on its way. I recently spent a day 
 with the president of the provisional government of the Repub- 
 lic of Korea. It is so obvious that the present Japanese policy 
 can never succeed, that my safety, as well as that of the rest 
 of the world, demands, that the relationship between countries 
 shall be made rational and just. 
 
 The same thing is true of the relation between classes. 
 When one class exploits 'another, it is laying up for itself a 
 store of hatred which will break out in all sorts of dangerous 
 and distressing forms. 
 
 Psychical laws are just as definite as physical laws; and 
 when they are understood, the processes of society can be ad- 
 
 111 • 
 
justed to them just as the processes of mechanics are adjusted, 
 and the hitherto impossible has been constructed. 
 
 When Bill Colbert as a very fresh Freshman was being 
 interviewed by the Rho Kaps, he told them that being loyal 
 to one's class was necessary to make one loyal to the college. 
 The Freshman-Sophomore conflict is a perfectly normal ex- 
 perience in the gaining of group-solidarity; but when "Bill" be- 
 comes a fellow-conspirator with "Hobe" against injustices 
 which neither of them can experience except vicariously, the 
 conflict has abnormal elements in it, and they constitute the 
 basis pf revolution. 
 
 I look forward to a time when the psychopathic result of 
 unjust relations between nations and classes shall be so clearly 
 understood that national psychiatrists will take the place of 
 physical revolutionists. The reason I know that this is not 
 an empty dream is because the "Other Fellow" is so much like 
 me. The world has got to be saved through what sociology 
 hopes may sometimes be a Science of Society. 
 
 "Jerry's" university does not admit that the germs of such 
 a science yet exist. The last time I was in Princeton, standard 
 books had not yet got into their library. Nothing, however, 
 gives me greater satisfaction than what little I have done for 
 the "Other Fellow," whether as nation or individual; and what 
 I have done, I did not do for him as such, but because I was 
 trying to identify myself with eternal laws. While I feel equally 
 at home with Priest, Rabbi, and atheist, my experience daily 
 gives me a firmer faith that the seeking of eternal laws brings 
 one under the guidance of the Divine Order. 
 
 Toastmaster : Some of you may not know that one 
 of the minor sports in all college faculties is baiting class- 
 icists. When I have indulged in it sometimes with my own 
 colleagues and they have excused themselves on the ground 
 of the difficulty of getting students to work with enthusiasm 
 at Greek and Latin, I have told them that I had a Greek 
 Professor in college who got us so excited about Greek 
 tragedy that we chanted choruses all over the campus. "Who 
 was that?" they ask. And when I tell them that the man 
 was C. D. Adams of Dartmouth, they reply : "Oh, Adams — 
 
 112 
 
of course!" Professor Adams is recognized everywhere as 
 the remarkable teacher and the sound scholar we know 
 him to be. It is, therefore, with peculiar pleasure that we 
 have him with us as our guest tonight. I am going to ask 
 him tp speak to us about the College and the War. Profes- 
 sor Adams. 
 
 THE COLLEGE AND THE WAR 
 
 In the past twenty-five years we have been coming to real- 
 ize as we had not before that "the College" is not simply the 
 body of trustees, faculty, and students who for the time being 
 are in office or in residence at Hanover, but rather that great 
 body of Dartmouth men whose hearts are always here — yes, 
 fathers and mothers too, who may never have seen the New 
 Hampshire hills — all united in love for Dartmouth and quick- 
 ened by the Dartmouth spirit. To this widely scattered body 
 the war came with its unexpected challenge, the greatest moral 
 appeal that Dartmouth men had known since the days of Lin- 
 coln. How splendidly the alumni answered the call to the 
 most varied forms of service, ho class knows better than your 
 own, for you are most fortunate in the number of men whose 
 training and character fitted them to step at once into positions 
 of great responsibility, and their service will go down in your 
 records as the proudest possession of the class. Their spirit, 
 the spirit of that letter of a father to his boy which will go 
 down through you as one of the priceless treasures of the Col- 
 lege, their spirit is the best testimony to the depth of the 
 Dartmouth influence in those days when it was your privilege 
 to hear the words and touch the life of the finest man, we, or any 
 other college community, have ever known, President Tucker. 
 
 The faculty, too, have had the privilege of rendering dis- 
 tinguished service. It was an honor to Dartmouth that in this 
 national crisis its President was a man whose experience in 
 the world of affairs had made him a master of that most diffi- 
 cult of all the modern arts and sciences, the humanizing of 
 industry. And so when the success of our arms overseas de- 
 pended upon the possibility of adjusting instantly the difficult 
 
 113 
 
relations between great bodies of men and their employers in 
 the critical war industries, it was President Hopkins who be- 
 came Secretary Baker's right-hand man. Little was known by 
 the public of the work that was being done in his office across 
 the corridor from the office of the Secretary of War, but when 
 -the inner history of the crises of the war comes to be written, 
 it will be found that it was Dartmouth's President who again 
 and again discovered the way to those just and fair agreements 
 which enabled the boys across the sea to receive their unbroken 
 supply of munitions. In the map-room of the General Staff 
 also it was the privilege of two Dartmouth professors, Gold- 
 thwait and Goodrich, to apply their expert topographical knowl- 
 edge to the transfer of the cablegrams from the front to the 
 staff maps, and to expound the situation from hour to hour to 
 the staff. Notable service in other lines was rendered by other 
 men of our Faculty; Foster, director of all the work in History 
 in the overseas camp schools; Dow as a member of one of the 
 interallied commercial commissions; Hardy and Jones in the 
 censorship offices; Dixon in the R. R. administration; Hull, Hart- 
 shorn, Haskins, and Proctor, in the application of science to 
 special war problems; Husband as Secretary of the New Hamp- 
 shire Committee of Public Safety; Page in the quartermaster's 
 department; Young in the preparation of mathematical text- 
 books for the overseas soldiers' schools; Anderson as one of 
 the expert advisers of the Peace Commissioners in Paris; Moore 
 and Stone in the psychological tests and classification of 
 drafted men; Lingley in the central office of the S. A. T. C; 
 Woods in the adjustment of labor difficulties; Bill in service 
 at Canadian Headquarters; Zug in a unique tour of the camps 
 with his lectures on the posters of the allies; others too in 
 less conspicuous, but no less necessary, service— it is a record 
 of varied and successful effort of which the College has a right 
 to be proud. 
 
 And what shall we say of that great body of undergraduates 
 who, in the midst of that happy, irresponsible life on campus, 
 in dormitory and fraternity house, in quiet lecture hall, heard 
 the summons of the guns across the sea! What quick response, 
 what cheerful surrender of personal plans, what quiet facing 
 of the terrible chances of war, what birth of a new life in many 
 a carefree man! The call to the service came very gradually. 
 Long before we expected to be involved as a nation, the boys 
 began to take to heart the great need of the people overseas. 
 They slipped away quietly, one by one, some to the hospital 
 service in France, many to the naval and infantry schools on 
 
 114 
 
this side. The Dartmouth Red Cross unit was the first general 
 movement, and it was this service which wrote the first name 
 on the Dartmouth Honor Roll, a costly Christmas gift to the 
 men in France. By the time of our own declaration of war, a 
 large number of students were ready for immediate action. 
 There was no public appeal to them, and no emotional excite- 
 ment, but from the first day of apprehension of war, the whole 
 spirit of administration and faculty and student body had been 
 so strong and steady in its patriotism that there was no possi- 
 bility of resisting the movement to the front; the Dartmouth 
 spirit of loyalty to the College was transferred as loyalty to 
 the nation, and nowhere was it found wanting. Few men 
 waited for the compulsion of the draft. All arms of the ser- 
 vice were represented. Perhaps aviation and the navy were the 
 favorite fields. A large number of men saw service overseas, 
 and when the roll of those who received French or American 
 citations for bravery in action is made up, it will contain many 
 a Dartmouth name. 
 
 In the fall of 1918 the College became practically a military 
 camp. Under the organization of the S. A. T. C. the dormitories 
 became barracks, the course of study was prescribed by the 
 Government, and the whqle discipline became military. Our 
 experience of this phase of military service was, unlike that of 
 many colleges, wholly good. This we owe in no small degree 
 to the good judgment and sympathetic attitude of our command- 
 ant, Major Patterson. There was no friction and no misunder- 
 standing; officers and faculty cooperated heartily, and the boys 
 bore the restrictions of the new life quietly and patiently, and 
 grew physically and morally thereby. The college sense ot 
 humor was a saving grace, and early rising and morning drills 
 on a frosty campus were accepted as a part of the new day's 
 work. The Dartmouth course in the issues of the War, re- 
 quired of all members of the S. A. T. C, and given by a large 
 group of the faculty, has met wide-spread commendation in 
 the college world. It was the privilege of your class to contrib- 
 ute one of the three men to whom this course owes its marked 
 success; it is not invidious, I think, to say that in addition to 
 his great part in the planning of the work of the whole course, 
 Professor Richardson especially gave in his lectures before 
 the whole student body and the faculty staff such an analysis 
 of the situation and such appeal to sound judgment that he car- 
 ried conviction and inspiration. 
 
 And now what of the after effects of the war upon the 
 College? I believe they are to be good and to be lasting. 
 
 115 
 
Through the part taken in the war by Dartmouth men the Col- 
 lege has added greatly to the circle of its friends in the nation 
 at large. That the College has been fitting men for efficient 
 service in private and in public has been demonstrated as never 
 before. There is every indication that a movement toward 
 Dartmouth is already under way in regions where hitherto we 
 have been little known. We shall very soon be filled to the 
 doors with young men to whom the Dartmouth virility and 
 loyalty have appealed in the time of testing. And our own 
 spirit has been mightily quickened. Especially do we recog- 
 nize the duty of the College to lay primary stress upon prepara- 
 tion for citizenship — the citizenship of peace no less than that 
 of war. The problems which the nation is now facing are 
 not chiefly problems of physical development nor of merely 
 financial devices; they are the more difficult problems of the 
 relation of man to man in a Republic; problems of cooperation, 
 of mutual service, of understanding and justice between social 
 classes, and of international moral obligations. The Dartmouth 
 of today is preparing to do its full part in fitting young men 
 to go out as leaders in this new and critical period. Our most 
 obvious and immediate contribution in the new field is the 
 course, organized largely through the efforts' of Professor Rich- 
 ardson, henceforth to be required of all Freshmen, and to be 
 known as "Problems of Citizenship." All that liberal pro- 
 visions of equipment and expert teaching ability can do for the 
 success of this course will be provided, and we expect it to 
 become one of the most characteristic Dartmouth contributions 
 to education. We believe this course will so impress upon the 
 minds of the Freshmen the importance of a knowledge of the 
 problems of citizenship that throughout their course the studies 
 which contribute to their solution will hold central place. In 
 doing this we shall be applying to the new Dartmouth the best 
 traditions of the old. It was in the early days peculiarly a 
 statesman's college, a training school of patriotism. The sacri- 
 fices and the privileges of these years of the world war, and 
 the new world problems which confront us, are to be the in- 
 spiration of the years which are coming. 
 
 The dinner ended at 2 130 A. M. with circulating the 
 clay pipes, taking a few puffs, then joining hands around 
 the table singing Charlie Graham's "Ode" and the "Dart- 
 mouth Song." 
 
 116 
 
After that motors were sent to the June for those who 
 had to make the three o'clock train south. One party even 
 went the whole distance Bostonwards by motor, — Pitt with 
 a chauffeur and Tim Lynch, driving like mad through the 
 night before morning should come upon them and remind 
 them of lost Hanover, — and Arcady. 
 
 THE PLAY "OH, DOCTOR!' 
 
 On Monday evening, while the '99 men dined, the ladies 
 attended dramatics, one of the big events of Commence- 
 ment. It was pleasant to mingle with the big, jolly, gayly 
 dressed crowd, seniors, pretty girls, parents, alumni of all 
 ages. As I glanced over our group it was a good looking, 
 very much dressed up crowd (no restriction as to clothes 
 for this event). 
 
 Webster Hall, always beautiful with its eagerly expect- 
 ant audience, the lively music by the College orchestra, was 
 a most up-to-date city theatre, busy ushers whisking about 
 selling the music of the play. Mrs. Kendall did want to 
 buy a copy, but between us all we couldn't quite scrape up 
 the price — but she really didn't need the score, for back at 
 Massachusetts Hall, she sat down to the piano and played 
 it from memory. 
 
 The play indeed surpassed our expectations, even 
 though we remembered that the club has a splendid reputa- 
 tion. It combined the best features of the season's latest 
 operas, especially catchy music, clever songs, plenty of good 
 dancing, and attractive costumes. The boys had been well 
 coached by the professional Mr. Cohan. I understand Mr. 
 Markey, the author, and Mr. Maroney, leading man, are 
 both to go into theatrical business. 
 
 117 
 
There was more plot to "Oh, Doctor!" than to many 
 modern operas. In the first scene we see a city doctor's 
 elaborate office, with its retinue of assistants, office boy and 
 stenographers discussing their dilemma — patients waiting 
 but doctor away — if truth were told — on a regular spree. Dr. 
 Brown's nephew, Johnny Brown, just discharged from the 
 service, arrives just in time to impersonate the old doctor 
 and with his ready wit is equal to all sorts of emergencies, 
 makes love to the typists, and makes all the patients happy, 
 if not well, with his prescriptions, highly alchoholic. The 
 queer patients give the boys a good chance to display their 
 special talents. Everybody enjoyed the very fat lady, who 
 just loved to dance, whose weight was reduced with a diet 
 of canary seed and water. There was the hen-pecked hus- 
 band, suffering from nerves and money. The haughty 
 mother, whose stage past comes to light. The blonde and 
 sweet voiced daughter in love with a movie actor, a group 
 of chorus girls. The second act, "The Cafe Diabolique," 
 elaborately staged, shows the characters in happy mood 
 from the effects of doctor's stimulating medicine, meeting 
 in most embarrassing situations. All ends well, and the 
 young doctor makes good with everybody, especially the 
 head stenographer who kept her head clear and the business 
 going. 
 
 We all hummed and marked time as we walked out 
 to the Fairyland Campus, strolled about in groups enjoying 
 the band concert, took short joy rides around town with 
 Mrs. Musgrove, indulged in ices down town, and between 
 glimpses through the lower hotel windows of the men still 
 at their dinner and speeches, waited patiently for them to 
 come out. 
 
 Some of us who returned first to headquarters went 
 directly up stairs, but soon heard strains of music from the 
 most modern dance to the Virginia reel, and it was said next 
 morning that one of the most dignified danced till her hair 
 hung down her back and was a "perfect scream." Such 
 an effect did "Oh, Doctor !" have on the middle-aged ladies. 
 
 Mary G. Greenwood. 
 118 
 
THE ARCADIANS 
 
 68 Men, 40 Women, 17 Children 
 7 Guests - Total 132 
 
 *A. M. ABBOTT 
 *A. J. ABBOTT 
 
 C. E. ADAMS 
 
 W. B. ADAMS 
 
 ALLEN 
 *BARNEY 
 *BARSTOW 
 
 BEAL 
 *BENEZET 
 ♦N. P. BROWN 
 ♦BURNS 
 
 ♦MAJ. CAVANAUGH 
 *H. B. CHASE 
 *T. W. CHASE 
 * CLARK 
 
 COGSWELL 
 ♦CURRIER 
 ♦CUSHMAN 
 *H. H. DEARBORN 
 ♦DONAHUE 
 *DREW 
 *W. R. EASTMAN 
 
 EATON 
 ♦H. O. FRENCH 
 ♦FULLER 
 *GALUSHA 
 ♦GANNON 
 ♦GEROULD 
 ♦GREENWOOD 
 ♦HAWKES 
 *HEYWOOD 
 *HOBAN 
 
 HOBBS 
 *HOPKINS 
 
 HOSKINS 
 ♦HUCKINS 
 ♦HUTCHINSON 
 ♦E. L. HYATT 
 
 ♦JOHNSTON 
 
 *JORDAN 
 
 *JOY 
 
 ♦KENDALL 
 
 *LEAVITT 
 
 ♦LYNCH 
 
 ♦LYSTER 
 
 ♦C. O. MILLER 
 
 *H. A. MILLER 
 
 *MUSGROVE 
 
 ♦PAYNE 
 
 *PARKER 
 PEARL 
 
 ♦RICHARDSON 
 
 ♦SEARS 
 
 ♦SILVER 
 
 ♦SKINNER 
 
 ♦SLEEPER 
 
 ♦SMITH 
 
 ♦SPEARE 
 
 ♦STORRS 
 
 ♦STURTEVANT 
 TIBBETTS 
 VARNEY 
 
 ♦F. A. WALKER 
 
 ♦J. B. C. WALKER 
 
 *WARDLE 
 
 ♦WASON 
 
 *CAPT. WATSON 
 
 ♦WINCHESTER 
 
 Mrs. A. J. ABBOTT. 
 W. B. ADAMS 
 ALLEN 
 BARNEY 
 BARSTOW 
 BEAL 
 BENEZET 
 DONAHUE 
 
 119 
 
Mrs. DREW 
 
 " W. R. EASTMAN 
 
 " GALUSHA 
 
 " GANNON 
 
 " GREENWOOD 
 
 " HAWKES 
 
 " HOBAN 
 
 " HOBBS 
 
 " HOPKINS 
 
 " HOSKINS 
 
 " HUCKINS 
 
 " HUTCHINSON 
 
 « HYATT 
 
 " JOHNSTON 
 
 11 JOY 
 
 " KENDALL 
 
 " LEAVITT 
 
 "' C. O. MILLER 
 
 " H. A. MILLER 
 
 " MUSGROVE 
 
 " PARKER 
 
 " PEARL 
 
 " RICHARDSON 
 
 " SILVER 
 Miss SMITH 
 Mrs. STORRS 
 
 " TIBBETTS 
 
 " F. A. WALKER 
 
 " J. B. C. WALKER 
 ♦Present at the Dinner. 
 
 Mrs. WASON 
 
 " WINCHESTER 
 
 Miss DRESSER 
 THEODORE ALLEN 
 MARIE BARSTOW 
 ALBERT GALUSHA 
 RUTH GALUSHA 
 FAITH HOPKINS 
 WM. HUTCHINSON 
 SARAH HUTCHINSON 
 MARTHA HUTCHINSON 
 ALLEN HYATT 
 PAULINE JOY 
 BARBARA JOY 
 
 *RONALD LEAVITT 
 (The Class Baby) 
 
 *LELAND LYSTER 
 LOUISE MUSGROVE 
 FRANK R. MUSGROVE 
 LLOYD WASON 
 ROBERT WINCHESTER 
 
 *M. O. ADAMS '71 
 
 *PROF. C. D. ADAMS '74 
 C. W. ROBIE 
 HAROLD W. ROBIE 
 CAHILL HALL '20 
 
 (J. L. Barney's nephew) 
 EDGAR A. LYLE 
 C. C. FIFIELD 
 
 REUNION FINANCE 
 
 Receipts 
 
 Received from taxes and contributions 
 Refund from 7 Musical Show tickets 
 
 $73031 
 11.55 
 
 $741.86 
 
 120 
 
their established habits of bachelordom and escorted Mrs. 
 Joe Hobbs and Mrs. K. Beal home. Franko-French went 
 on by train to Boston for a continued vacation, and Warren 
 Kendall went with him to connect with the afternoon Fed- 
 eral express for Washington. Louise Barstow and Marie 
 rode off with Jim and Mrs. Walker and Bill Currier to go 
 as far as Durham, there to visit with Elmer's sister until 
 Elmer himself could close up accounts at Springfield and 
 join them for the summer trip to Round Pond, Maine. 
 Wesley Jordan turned his car back toward Beacon, N. Y., 
 the Winchesters, the Joys, the Hyatts, the Fred Walkers, 
 the Hopkinses, the Carl Millers and Greenwoods, — all were 
 headed out of Hanover, away from Arcady, and so with 
 twenty others. 
 
 But why thus dwell on the hour of breaking up and 
 labor to paint a dismal picture of departure? 
 
 "Dismal" is false ! The sun was never warmer or 
 the skies more bright. Smiles, songs, and cheers and toot- 
 ing horns; valisefuls of inspiration in batteries electrically 
 recharged; Bennie unwearied in his final moments, still 
 joyously reminiscent; George waking with a start from a 
 scant hour's sleep and throwing up his boudoir window to 
 look out in garb not altogether Beau Brummellian in com- 
 pleteness, — these are not sounds or sights to stir doleful or 
 foreboding thoughts ! 
 
 So though on Tuesday afternoon only Nelson Brown, 
 Weary, Spade, Ed Skinner, Cav, George, and Owen, Don- 
 nie, and Ray Pearl with their wives were left the pulse of 
 the '99 Vicennial still beat strong. At night the steps of 
 Rollins Chapel saw a diminished band discussing with ardor 
 undiminished Pearl's statement that for mental stimulus he 
 had gone back to reading the classics. And so far as can 
 be ascertained Weary and N. P. and George were arguing 
 yet at 2 A. M. on Wednesday. 
 
 Later, Wednesday forenoon, when the Commencement 
 Procession formed, however, only George remained to see 
 
 122 
 
Cav get his Bachelor of Arts "Causa honoris" and Pearl 
 his Doctor of Science. Raymond was averaging only one 
 degree in two days that week, having received no other 
 since his LL. D. on Monday from the University of Maine. 
 Here's what they said about him Wednesday: 
 
 Professor Dixon: 
 
 "Mr. President, at the request of the Trustees, and in 
 their behalf, I present to you 
 
 Raymond Pearl, 
 
 son of Dartmouth; a Biologist of international renown; 
 professor of biometry and. vital statistics in the School of 
 Hygiene and Public Health Johns Hopkins University ; able 
 coadjutor of Mr. Hoover in that marvelous achievement 
 of conservation and mobilization by which the food re- 
 sources of the world sought out and met the world's neces- 
 sities; for the honorary degree of Doctor of Science." 
 
 President Hopkins : 
 
 "Raymond Pearl, of the class of 1899; frequenter 
 alike of the realms of esoteric knowledge and of practical 
 affairs ; who have acquired distinction without losing simp- 
 licity, and in whom love of learning is matched by the will 
 to serve; able administrator; lucid interpreter of vital sta- 
 tistics; scientist of brilliant achievement and promise; I 
 confer upon you the honorary degree of Doctor of Science." 
 
 At noon in the Gym the Alumni Luncheon was served. 
 In the post of honor just below and in front of the head 
 table was '99's table with plates for twenty! What Cav 
 and George thought to themselves or said to each other as 
 they faced this disconcerting scene is not recorded, but five 
 years of strenuous secretarial contriving and devising and 
 long seasons of strategic campaigning on hard fought grid- 
 irons and in the Argonne had not been in vain. A little 
 more '99 hospitality, diplomatic but effective, brought Bob 
 Leavens '01, some of the notable '94 delegation, and other 
 companionable souls to fill the vacant places. To over- 
 
 123 
 
curious inquiries after vanished classmates George retorted, 
 " '99ers are neither plutocrats nor idlers. We're busy men. 
 We skimmed the cream of our program several days ago." 
 
 But we cannot, alas, deny that '64 got the Commence- 
 ment Cup with fourteen out of eighteen survivors present; 
 '94 came next ; and then '99 with 62 per cent. But if there 
 had been a cup for the biggest percentage of non-grads back, 
 '99 would have won hands down. 
 
 One last scene Thursday. Dave Storrs and George 
 gathered up the thousand and one fragments, properties, 
 and miscellaneous paraphernalia of '99's epochal reunion, 
 and consigned them to Dave's storehouse. There in an old 
 carpenter chest packed in camphor and with an appetizing 
 moth ball tucked snugly in each grotesque but appealing 
 mouth, rest Lena and Leon like fairy princess and hob- 
 goblin son, to slumber till the close-set forests of laborious 
 days and the entangling underbrush of hateful circumstance 
 are burst asunder by magic trumpet, flashing sword, and 
 thunderous tramping of the host of '99 marching in golden 
 armor to seize the Campus Citadel when the Clock of Time 
 booms 
 
 Twenty-Five ! 
 
 ECHOINGS 
 
 'O hark! O hear! ' 
 How thin and clear! 
 And thinner, clearer, farther going 
 The horns of Elfland faintly blowing." 
 
 124 
 
Lena and Leon Bid Au Revoir 
 
 
 '^.Hi 
 
 llllllilll 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Smiles in Arcady 
 
 President Hopkins 
 in the Commencement Parade 
 
 Gnon-RvF AprAnv 
 
To the Boys of '99: — 
 
 Here comes on this twenty-fourth day of November in 
 the year One Thousand Nine Hundred and Nineteen, like 
 a cut — behind on the tailboard of a delivery wagon loaded 
 with Thanksgiving feeds for folks and firesides, the Old 
 Grad who to his great happiness has been allowed to mix 
 with the Ninety-nine packages — and who signs his name 
 at the end not so far away. 
 
 Gosh ! isn't that a long and most unrhetorical sentence ! 
 
 He has been applying the lingering memory test. There 
 was a Commencement last summer and a good one. There 
 also happened the One Hundred and Fiftieth Anniversary 
 of the College celebrated in October under Skies and amid 
 Hills that the Master Hand had painted. The old places 
 fairly tingled with good Comradeship. The songs of earlier 
 days rung out harmoniously in the Crisp Air. Academic 
 processions lent their color to make the. Picture vivid. And 
 yet — to me — looking back each and all seem by-products 
 of the Reunion of the Class of '99 on its 20th Anniversary. 
 
 How can I forget that before my foot left the Carstep 
 at the June. I was in the arms of Warren Kendall ; or that 
 later I was put down front for the Blood Curdling Drama 
 in the Robinson Hall Theatre and hiccoughed into laughter 
 more cackling than when Old Harrington (admission 15 
 cents) pulled carrots out of our noses in the Ashburnham 
 Town Hall. ( 
 
 Oh ! there was everythin' I will say — even to the stim- 
 ulating serious man-to-man Class Dinner. 
 
 Yes, boys, you pulled me back from forty-eight years 
 out, — to the Kin-Ship and Kid-dom of merely Twenty 
 years. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 Melvin Q. Adams. 
 Class of '71 
 
 125 
 
Hanover, N. H., August 6, 1919. 
 My dear Mr. Beat: — 
 
 I am sending you something about "The College and 
 the War." How much of this I may have said at the class 
 dinner I do not know. I spoke from very scanty notes, 
 and those were long since destroyed, so I have had to write 
 down in cold blood what I remember of things which were 
 spoken under the impulse of a very inspiring audience. It 
 sounds warmed over — but it is the best that I can do. 
 
 Thank you heartily for your kind words about college 
 days. In these times of few students in Greek, and with 
 old age quite distinctly in sight, such appreciative words 
 are doubly precious. 
 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 Chas. D. Adams. 
 
 43 Franklin Street, Boston, Mass., August 20, 1919. 
 
 My dear Mr. Beat: — 
 
 I have been intending, ever since the reunion of "The 
 best damn class," at Hanover, the latter part of June, to 
 write you a few lines but I have allowed one thing and an- 
 other to prevent me from doing so. 
 
 I feel that I have been very fortunate in having been 
 "adopted" as a member of the Class of '99 and I wish to 
 assure you that I prize, most highly, the splendid associa- 
 tions which were made possible through my introduction to 
 Dartmouth and the Class of '99. 
 
 When I realize how this reunion and one or two others 
 which I have had the pleasure of attending, "sort of" gets 
 under the skin, so to speak, I cannot help thinking what 
 it must mean to you men of Dartmouth who passed your 
 college days at this splendid college/located among the hills 
 
 126 
 
and valleys and rocks of the Old Granite State and in one 
 of its most beautiful locations. 
 
 As I recall how you men have stood by each other and 
 when I note the spirit of loyalty to Dartmouth and every- 
 thing pertaining to it; the enthusiasm and affection which 
 you feel towards it and each other, I cannot help thinking: 
 "Blest be the tie that binds" our Dartmouth men. ^ 
 
 I feel greatly indebted to the men of Dartmouth who 
 are responsible for my college associations and I would like 
 to call them all by name but am afraid that I might miss 
 one and inasmuch as I have, through them, been permitted 
 to become acquainted and thoroughly enjoy the associa- 
 tions of practically all of the Class of '99, I feel that I 
 should thank you ALL for taking me into "the fold" and 
 making me as much at home and as comfortable and happy 
 as any man could be, who has not had the advantages of 
 a life at college and, particularly, at DARTMOUTH. 
 
 I had a most delightful time at the reunion and I ap- 
 preciate very much the opportunity to mingle with such 
 a fine "bunch" of good fellows, ladies included. The oc- 
 casion had an added attraction because of the presence of 
 my son, Harold, and we both thank you, most sincerely, for 
 the opportunity to take part in the celebration. 
 
 With kindest regards and all good wishes I remain 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 C. W. Robie. 
 
 Round Pond, Me., August 24, 1919. 
 
 Dear Uncle Kenneth: — 
 
 I feel quite honored in being asked to write to the 
 "Class Secretary" about my visit at Hanover, but I am 
 afraid what I have to say will be rather dry reading for 
 one who has been at so many reunions. 
 
 127 
 
I certainly did enjoy my stay at Dartmouth College, 
 and I wish it had been much longer. I am already hoping 
 that I will be able to attend the Twenty-fifth Reunion. 
 
 The time from my arrival until I left was filled with 
 many pleasant experiences. I think it is very interesting 
 to meet your father's friends and their families, of whom 
 you have often heard him speak. Of course I enjoyed see- 
 ing Hanover and the College, and I am sure if I were a 
 boy I should plan to go there. 
 
 The programme of our class was fine. I don't think 
 many other classes had one like it. I was sorry I missed 
 the tea Saturday afternoon, but I enjoyed the "hum" and 
 the sing (and the movies, of course). As for what the 
 men did Saturday evening, Pauline Joy and I thought that 
 all out. Maybe I will tell you some time. 
 
 Sunday was also a pleasant day. I enjoyed the Bac- 
 calaureate Sermon. I had never been to one before and 
 it was something new. The picnic was splendid. What 
 lovely country we saw ! ! Pauline and I certainly enjoyed 
 ourselves that day. And everybody did, I suppose. I took 
 some interesting pictures of the picnic, which came out 
 splendidly. 
 
 Wasn't the entertainment in the evening interesting? 
 I enjoyed that more than anything else, and especially the 
 little talk by Mr. Benezet. It certainly was funny to hear 
 of what the men did when they were in college. 
 
 It was too bad you had to leave Sunday night, but I 
 am glad Aunt May could stay, for I know we all had a fine 
 time Monday. I was not at the meeting to hear you made 
 secretary, for I was exploring Hanover and its ice-cream 
 stores and souvenir shops with my friends of the '94 Class. 
 We all went to the Class Day Exercises and enjoyed them 
 very much. In the evening, after the dramatics, I went to 
 a dance given by the '94 Class for their young people. I 
 hope at our next reunion there will be many more young 
 '99ers present. 
 
 128 
 
Although I would like to say more, I think I have 
 taken up quite enough space with my little story of the Re- 
 union. 
 
 With love to you and Aunt May and the boys, 
 
 Marie L. Barstow. 
 
 White River Jct v Vt., September 29, 1919. 
 
 Dear Mr. Beal: — 
 
 I received your letter the first of August and I am 
 very much ashamed of myself for not answering it before 
 this. I have had to remind my father several times to an- 
 swer his. 
 
 I certainly had a fine time at the '99 Class Reunion. 
 I had never been to one before so it was a new experience 
 for me, but I surely made up for all of the times that I 
 didn't attend. Marie ( Barstow and I were the only two 
 older girls of the same age and we had a fine time together. 
 I hope that there will be more young people at the next 
 reunion. 
 
 I am sure that no other class had as good a time fur- 
 nished them as the Class of '99, and I hope I may be able 
 to attend the twenty-fifth. 
 
 We have been in Camp Billings on Fairlee Lake for 
 two months this summer and it seems rather hard to come 
 back to school. 
 
 With best wishes to Mrs. Beal, and yourself, I am 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 Pauline L. Joy. 
 
 129 
 
25 Broad Street, New York, August 7, 19 19. 
 
 My dear Mr. Beat: — 
 
 It was only by accident that I saw your letter to the 
 fellows in '99 asking them to write you about their im- 
 pressions of the Reunion. I don't see why I should be left 
 out and I am going to say a few things myself. 
 
 I had a pretty good time, but say, it was not in it with 
 the last reunion I attended, no Siree. Goodness Gracious, 
 Agnes, I thought I would never get home alive at that time. 
 I was kidnapped, you remember, and if I do say it myself, 
 there was a swell lot of boys who had me and I guess I 
 looked pretty good to them, too. I'll say I did. Anyway, 
 if I had not come up with "Buck" and "Pap," I might have 
 stayed in Hanover, I said I might. I guess because I brought 
 Leon with me this year that I was not so popular. You 
 know, a child makes a lot of difference in the good times 
 you have. Some of the boys were fine to me, and as I 
 say if Leon had not been there, I know I could have cut 
 out some of the wives. I'll say I could. When we were 
 having our pictures taken, I had a fine chance to give the 
 fellows the once-over, and say, believe me, Mr. Beal, they 
 all looked pretty good to me. There was one fellow they 
 called "Celery." Oh Boy! he was some flirt, and as I say, 
 if it had not been for Leon, well, I'll say he was, but you 
 know Mr. Beal, how with your young son, you hate to let 
 yourself go very much. And then, there was Hawley 
 Chase; he's awfully nice. I'll say he is. He is just rough 
 enough. I like things a little rough when I am out on a 
 party, and Hawley just went far enough. I'll say he did. 
 Then there was Joe and Jim and Pitt and Rab and Cav and 
 Ikey, and by the way, Mr. Beal, did you think it right for 
 Ikey to ask me to let him look at my teeth? He said they 
 looked so perfect that he just could not help but see if they 
 were real. I know what he wanted, but he did not get it. 
 When I kiss a fellow, it is not in a crowd. I'll say it's not. 
 
 I am glad they made you secretary, Mr. Beal ; you will 
 
 130 
 
be fine. Why don't George Clark get married? Since my 
 husband died, leaving me with Leon to support, I am not 
 passing up any chances and I understand George has a farm 
 and everything. Confidentially now, Mr. Beal, do you think 
 I might have a chance? George is just my style. My, I 
 don't know what '99 would ever do without George Clark. 
 He is the whole ball of wax and so much of a gentleman. 
 I'll say he is a gentleman. There was not a man in the 
 class who spoke to me with more feeling than George and 
 him so busy. 
 
 Well, Mr. Beal, I cannot go on like this forever, but 
 I want to hear from you soon, and especially about George. 
 Leon and I send our love to you and the boys, and if you 
 want me to do anything for you, just say the word and I 
 am there. I'll say I'm there. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 Lena & Leon. 
 
 TWO '99 DYNAMOS 
 
 The Secretary gives his solemn word that there is no 
 complicity or collusion in the following pair of productions. 
 Great minds run in parallel channels, and each has spoken 
 his full and honest mind with no expectation of any "Same 
 to you, sir" response. Each was peculiarly fitted to treat 
 his particular subject, and the Secretary pleads no other 
 excuse for his securing these two rare specimens of '99 
 appreciation in the way he did. 
 
 131 
 
WARREN CLEVELAND KENDALL 
 
 Class secretaries, as well as kings, require power be- 
 hind the throne ! Ninety-nine woke up to the value in this 
 ancient royal formula ten years ago. At that time ,Barstbw 
 happened to ask a group of Ninety-niners to select for him 
 a committee of three to put through the Tenth Reunion. 
 The committee selected, Kendall, Varney and Donahue, 
 put through a reunion that was memorable and that re- 
 union put them into office, Donny as secretary and the other 
 two as the power behind the secretarial throne. Five years 
 later the formula was varied to the extent of insisting that 
 one of the members of that committee, to wit Warren Ken- 
 dall, should hold over into a new executive committee, give 
 to the power behind a new class secretary the strength of 
 his accumulated experience in class affairs. It's a wonder- 
 fully simple and effective machinery, blundered into maybe 
 by Ninety-nine, but worthy of further adoption by other 
 classes ; and with the passing from the executive committee 
 of the class this year of Warren Kendall, after ten years 
 of devoted worthwhile service, it is fittingly proper for the 
 late secretary to both acknowledge the value of this power 
 behind the secretarial throne and to gladly express his ap- 
 preciative obligation and the obligation of the class to the 
 particular personality, exemplified in Warren, of that 
 power behind the throne passing with himself back into 
 the rank and file of the class. 
 
 It's easy enough for a secretary to spark ideas. It is 
 quite another thing to carry them out. Therefore with the 
 varied functions and responsibilities which have been ac- 
 cruing by a sort of time wearing accretion to class secre- 
 tarialism in recent years, it has been a boon and a blessing 
 to have such power behind the secretarial throne as Warren 
 to turn to. His ability for execution has been a tower of 
 strength to two secretarial regimes. One instinctively re- 
 
 132 
 
verts to the three reunions made successful by his pains- 
 taking execution of details, his origination and operation 
 of the commencement special train that made the Hegira to 
 Hanover pleasurable until wartime conditions required its 
 withdrawal, his series of after-the-game football suppers 
 in Boston to which Mrs. Ninety-niner was asked, his work 
 on the interclass ('97-1900) Round-Up held at the Country 
 Club at Lawrence, his acquisition of a pre-emptive right 
 to Middle Massachusetts for a Ninety-nine reunion home. 
 They are only some out of the many things wherein his 
 guiding hand has largely helped to spell the success they 
 attained. His work in them has been beneficial not only 
 to the class but to the college, both directly and indirectly. 
 He has been not only a committee man who executed ideas, 
 but one who sparked ideas too. In browsing through the 
 Ninety-nine files the other day, I found four foolscap pages 
 of yellow paper, written by him just after the 15th Re- 
 union, most of which were taken up with the suggestion 
 that at the 20th Reunion Ninety-nine should put on an orig- 
 inal play to be written by Donahue, — he had even gone so 
 far as to get Donny's creative instinct to sparking upon a 
 scenerio, — and acted by a Ninety-nine all star cast. That 
 was the origin of. the Morality Playette of the recent Twen- 
 tieth Reunion. He knew then that it could be done. It 
 has been done, ,but, as Donny remarked, after it was all 
 over and a full realization of the thin ice we had been skat- 
 ing on came to him, "He didn't see how we had the nerve 
 and courage to carry it through." The latter was doubtless 
 given through the spirit of .Warren's original impulse. His 
 philosophy of class matters has always been that Ninety- 
 nine should lead, not follow, that everything it did should 
 not be for mere amusement, but should have some function 
 in welding the individual members of the class and their 
 families into stronger union, both for their own good and 
 the good of the college, that in aiming at these objectives 
 Ninety-nine could accomplish anything it undertook. Ap- 
 preciative of the values in methods of class activities, always 
 
 133 
 
standing- for the worthwhile things in them and for putting 
 the worthwhile into them, broadening their values, courage- 
 ous for new undertakings, tireless in carrying them out, he 
 has been a glorious power to and behind the secretarial 
 throne. 
 
 A Ninety-niner is so used to thinking of Warren in 
 Ninety-nine terms that his other activities are likely to be 
 overlooked. Still Ninety-nine is proud of his railroad career, 
 from its pre-college beginning in the Pompanoosuc Station 
 through its vacation telegraphic days with Tedo at the 
 Fabyans, when he slid down the Mt. Washington cog rail 
 on a skid board in three minutes, through the apprentice- 
 ship days in the office of Vice-President Lee of the Boston 
 & Maine, through the later B. & M. transportation manager 
 days, through the pre-war Washington car service commis- 
 sion days, to the managership of the Car Service Division 
 of the National Railway Service of war and post-war times, 
 wherein the Transcript so aptly called him one evening the 
 "Guardian of the Nation's Cars." The very next morning 
 after the Transcript article and picture, the Hon. Melvin 
 O. Adams called up the secretary to congratulate him upon 
 the felicity of that characterization. It made the secretary 
 covetous of the origination of the expression because it 
 was so true and apt. It recalled the tensity of a Ninety- 
 nine evening in Washington when Pearl, with the secret 
 figures of the submarine sinkings in his pocket, fearful 
 over the ability to keep England and France supplied with 
 food, praised the accomplishment of Warren in always hav- 
 ing the food at port ready for ocean shipment. It made 
 one appreciate the difficulties he had to overcome, the cur- 
 tailing of car usage in certain lines to permit of its usage 
 for war purposes, the necessity for zoning and allocation, 
 for establishing of "sailing days" which, though it cut 
 down our freedom of shipment, yet saved millions in car 
 service when it was not a question of whether we could 
 find the millions, but a question of the usage of the available 
 cars for the immediate demands of the situation, the harm- 
 
 134 
 
onizing of all the interests ravenous for cars to the broader 
 outlook of their distribution and usage according to the 
 necessities of the public weal. The quiet accomplisher of 
 all this is well entitled to be called the "Guardian of the 
 Nation's Cars." It has meant hours of thinking and work, 
 not only days but long evening after evening at the office, 
 the bringing into play of the same qualities of quiet op- 
 timism, power to visualize broadly, faith in men and affairs, 
 courage for new undertakings that have gone into the '99 
 committee work. 
 
 One wonders how Warren had time for the '99 com- 
 mittee. It was a toning tonic, like the hasty bundling of 
 the children, Mrs. Kendall, even the housekeeper and the 
 class secretary who was holding down one of his guest 
 chambers during the winter of , i8- , i9 into the motor after 
 dinner for a turn at the movie, like a midnight ride in the 
 highway maze of Rock Creek Park for outdoor air, like 
 the Sunday morning attendance of the family at church 
 where he is the right hand bower of a Dartmouth parson, 
 that he tucked into crowded hours with a sort of religious 
 zeal. He is as keen for play as any one. One night at a 
 little '99 dinner at the University Club in Washington the 
 waiter forgot Warren's coffee sppon and Warren playfully 
 began utilizing a left over soup spoon making muchado 
 over its barely going into the coffee cup. Tony Willard's 
 remark later that he "didn't know Warren could be such 
 a clown" illustrates how a man's work or reputation may 
 overshadow the other aspects of his makeup that go to 
 keep him whole and wholesome. Together with Mrs. Ken- 
 dall, who is Willis Hodgkins' sister and who can play 
 Ninety-nine songs as well as Willis himself, the Kendall 
 homestead has always dispensed a generous and quiet hos- 
 pitality that has been oases to many a Ninety-niner as well as 
 to the people of the larger world of affairs ; and in Wash- 
 ington the Kendall housekeeper, imported from New Eng- 
 land, is acquiring a reputation among some folks for Sat- 
 urday night baked beans fast approaching the fame of the 
 
 135 
 
late Mark Hanna's Ohio cook for "corn beef hash." Pearl 
 and the secretary tied for first place one night with a score 
 of six plates each, with Peddy Miller and Frank Staley 
 pressing close after for second place. It sounds scandalous, 
 but it was jolly and Warren's accompanying "clownishness" 
 was of the kind that buoys one up for the next day's prob- 
 lems. It's play that always tones, which is quite as much 
 a result of the personality projected into the play as the 
 play itself. The late secretary gladly confesses that most 
 of the things that have been best in the administration, of 
 class affairs during the last five years and the atmosphere 
 put about them have been due to Warren; and it is now 
 right to disclose that Warren was the author of a squib 
 that ever since the 15th Reunion the secretary has been 
 fond of repeating. The committee were discussing the finan- 
 cial ability of the members of the class to attend the re- 
 union when Warren spoke up "It isn't a question of 
 whether I can afford to attend, it's a question of whether 
 I can afford not to attend." Doubtless the late secretary 
 has often been given the credit for that aphorism. While it 
 codifies the late secretary's feelings, like many other things 
 that he doubtless gets credit for, the credit belongs to War- 
 ren. The aphorism reflects himself, his concept of what 
 Ninety-nine is to him and should mean to the rest of the 
 class, the part it can and should play in the life of a posi- 
 tive man of affairs for the good of himself and affairs. 
 It's the kind of an attitude that, with its divergent ramifi- 
 cations and variants, keys up the throne of a class secre- 
 tary, translates the power behind the secretarial throne 
 through it to the class itself and on to Dartmouth. 
 
 George G. Clark. 
 
 136 
 
George Clark at the Farm 
 
GEORGE GALLUP CLARK, SS. D. 
 
 George Gallup Clark, Lawyer, Agriculturist; Philan- 
 thropist ; Litterateur ; Lover of All Mankind ; Indefatigable 
 Worker for All Things Good, Distributor of Sunshine; 
 Class Secretary, Summa Cum Laude. 
 
 If a special degree could be conferred upon our Class 
 Secretary of the last half decade — who, like his predeces- 
 sors, would not permit re-election because of principle — 
 it would by unanimous consent be SS. D., Doctor of Secre- 
 taries, for he has presented to us, and to his Secretary As- 
 sociates, the highest ideal of what a class secretary can 
 and should be to the organization he is called upon to lead, 
 and to the college whose interests he serves. 
 
 A position of paramount importance in college alumni 
 organization, full of liard work,, unceasing application, 
 much drudgery and unexpressed thanks, yet glorious in 
 its achievements, George has run the full gamut. He suc- 
 ceeded to this work when it seemed that his predecessor 
 had reached the pinnacle in this line of endeavor; new 
 standards had been set; encomiums had been preached; 
 D. S. C. and other decorations had been distributed; the 
 climax was probably reached and passed. It is a high 
 compliment to those who had gone before that the strong 
 faultless and flawless structure they had created proved 
 a firm foundation for him to build upon to attain a still 
 higher state of accomplishment. 
 
 George's success may be accredited to two personal 
 characteristics ; first, his full confidence in human nature ; 
 and, second, his patience and never failing energy in pur- 
 suit of the elusive reply to his call — whether by telegraph, 
 telephone, letter, or post card. George never lost hope in 
 a single one of us. No shepherd ever exercised more faith- 
 fulness in the gathering of his flock ; no pastor ever thought 
 
 137 
 
more over the interests of his people; and although we 
 have been separated by thousands of miles he has main- 
 tained a constant and almost superhuman effort to keep us 
 all as in a single unit, closely in touch with each other's 
 joys and sorrows, with the ever helpful hand reaching out. 
 Any failure — a very rare thing — has been due to our own 
 neglect, and our refusal against very heavy pressure, to 
 accept association in that family of Dartmouth men which 
 enjoys the reputation of exemplifying the best there is in 
 college spirit and tradition and has been our own distinct 
 loss and one for which the individual is fully responsible. 
 
 For all this George Clark stands staunch, serene and 
 on a pedestal of his own making. In his modesty he depre- 
 cates this distinction. He has led us to the heights of 
 loyalty. He has re-welded us in bonds which shall not be 
 broken after twenty years by any earthly upheaval. Our 
 cement has "set," though the work of his successors must 
 be no less exacting. Our plan and form of organization 
 permits of no opportunity to go stale. We shall be as 
 strong and firm in our class and college allegiance when 
 there are but two remaining to answer the annual call, and 
 to reminisce again and again over the Famous Secretaries 
 of '99, and the wonderful and unparalleled spirit incul- 
 cated by them. 
 
 But George has been more than a collector of letters 
 and photographs — a chaser for the data for our vital sta- 
 tistics. He has entered into our family life — those who 
 have been accessible — and left there a trail of never-to-be- 
 forgotten sociability and companionship, born only of a 
 personal interest constant in sincerity and accompanied al- 
 ways with never failing cheeriness, optimism and joy which, 
 alas ! too few of us can at all times maintain. Perhaps 
 George's celibacy is responsible for this — cause or effect, 
 which? If we will recall the scenes at the last reunion 
 which included George frequently surrounded by our be- 
 loved ladies, even though there was no bon bon bait we 
 
 138 
 
know that his real greatness as a moulder of 'o^ism lies 
 in his quest for the best and the beautiful. 
 
 If the whole truth were known probably there is many 
 a seared conscience among us confessing to failure to re- 
 spond to his annual appeals save upon the third or fourth 
 request or perhaps altogether. With all this discourage- 
 ment we have not been scolded though that course would 
 be fully justified. Let us fervently hope that this lesson has 
 at last been burned into our souls that our future responses 
 may be 100% spontaneous, and whenever the call from our 
 class leader comes, give him immediately all he asks and 
 to the limit of our ability. At the best his is a hard task 
 and our duty plainly in the interests of our class, our col- 
 lege, and ourselves, is to give of ourselves in full measure 
 of support in whatever form requisitioned. With our splen- 
 did leadership inheritance from the past, the assurance for 
 the present, and all the display of willingness and ability, 
 each doing his part, the future of '99 as a leader in college 
 affairs, is safe. 
 
 George, genial, hopeful, democratic, modest, always 
 tactful, in all things considerate, thoughtful of our every 
 interest at all times, we are truly grateful for the excellence 
 of your leadership, for the amount of time and energy so 
 unselfishly expended, for the patience so constantly dis- 
 played. We realize our thanks and appreciation have been 
 but scantily expressed. We have, however, fully recog- 
 nized the good you were doing for us, the vision of our 
 Alma Mater you continuously gave to us, the many evi- 
 dences of class brotherhood you brought and than which 
 there's none better: "All for one and one for all." We 
 know that many things have been instigated or given im- 
 petus by you, regarding which you prefer absolute silence — 
 and indeed unknown to most of us — things which have 
 brought unqualified happiness to the individual and joy to 
 the entire fellowship. Your reward is sure. Your deeds 
 for us cannot be measured by mere words — our hearts must 
 
 139 
 
tell and re-tell the story. Our minds all concentrate on that 
 typically Dartmouth age old demonstration of love and af- 
 i. Action, true now and always — 
 
 Who was George Clark? 
 First in War; 
 First in Peace; 
 First in the Hearts of his Countrymen ! ! 
 
 ("Ra-ta-ta-tap-Bang ! ! Bang ! I") 
 
 Vive le George Clark! 
 
 Warren C. Kendall. 
 
 A SONG THAT NINETY-NINE WANTS SET TO 
 
 MUSIC 
 
 COUNTING SONGS 
 
 Twenty and something and twenty 
 Should come to forty or more ; 
 But add Ninety-Nine 
 And the whole sum, in fine, 
 Is barely more than a score. 
 
 Twenty and something and twenty 
 May seem to approach middle age; 
 But add Ninety-Nine, 
 And there's hardly a sign 
 Of growing either stodgy or sage. 
 
 140 
 
Twenty and something and twenty, 
 The flower of frolicsome youth; 
 
 At least Ninety-Nine 
 
 Is taking that line, 
 Which makes it absolute truth. 
 
 Twenty and something and twenty ! 
 Let those who feel aged give way. 
 
 But up Ninety-Nine! 
 
 Your hand on mine, 
 We're twenty and something today. 
 
 G. H. Gerould. 
 
 141 
 
THE CLASS IN GEOGRAPHY 
 
 COMPLETE 
 
 IN 
 
 FOUR LESSONS 
 
THE SPIRIT OF '99 SPEAKS 
 
 I am the product of the years before and of the years 
 after. I am part of what was Prexie Tucker. I belong 
 to the old Dartmouth and I belong to the new. 
 
 I am the genius of Elmer and of Donnie and of George. 
 I am the spirit of those who have gone and I am the spirit 
 of those who remain. I am greater than any reunion. In 
 one bond, — inviolate and indissoluble, I bind all, those 
 who are absent and those who are present. 
 
 I am Brotherhood. 
 
 I cross the seas but I am inextinguishable. I dwell ob- 
 scurely but I endure. I am the spirit of Dartmouth. 1 
 am the soul of man. 
 
 144 
 
THE CLASS IN GEOGRAPHY 
 Lesson One: Across Sea and Land 
 
 One of the distinctive facts of geography a.s taught 
 in most schools has been its tendency to "stay put". Cape 
 Cod remains tolerably unchanged since the days when the 
 Mayflower beat up around it, except for a few shifted bars 
 and shoals and creek-mouths. And the North Pole, de- 
 spite a recent taking account of stock, which occurred in 
 its vicinity, is still popularly supposed to stick out at about 
 the same point of the old earth's crust. 
 
 But since five years ago Mittel-Europa took up the 
 self appointed but thankless job of making this planet over, 
 there has been more transportation furnished by more 
 different methods for more various reasons to more num- 
 erous mortals than ever happened before in a millennium. 
 
 So here in the beginning of your regular lesson in geog- 
 raphy are a few of '99' s contributions to the world's at- 
 tempt to get settled. 
 
 From the far outpost of Japan, K. Asakawa has re- 
 turned with a trunkful of Oriental notes and records to 
 buttress Yale's reputation for scholarship while Major Cav 
 has returned to his law practice in Worcester and incident- 
 ally to play havoc with that same Yale's athletic record. 
 So Major Sewall has returned to civil life and the prac- 
 tice of medicine in New Jersey, but Captain Wattie has 
 jumped out into Northern Michigan to build a paper mill. 
 
 Captain Everett Hardwick and Major Rodney Sanborn 
 have both forsworn the martial titles of war for the healing 
 titles of peace, and once more keep steady the erratic pulses 
 of Boston and New York; while Captain Parker with 
 health regained does the same for Manchester. In Prince- 
 ton Jerry once more calls his English classes to order as 
 
 145 
 
Peddie does his divisions in philosophy at Oberlin. George 
 Evans is again on duty at the Somerville Public Library 
 and Raymond Pearl takes up his war-postponed promotion 
 to service at Johns Hopkins ; but Warren Kendall and 
 Frank Staley must still remain in Washington. Bill Eaton 
 takes up the advertising branch of journalism in New York, 
 Arthur Brown moves to Erie, Pa., and Squaw Kirk changes 
 his headquarters to Indianapolis. 
 
 From California Rab Abbott hurries to join Tony Wil- 
 Iard in Washington, but Tony forthwith returns to Orono, 
 Maine, whence in turn Elmer Woodman makes a sudden 
 turn to Missouri. But even he goes not so far as Willis 
 Hodgkins, who leaps almost the whole continent and calls 
 Phoenix, Arizona, home. 
 
 Ronald Leavitt, back from ballooning in France, for 
 reuning at Hanover, is just ahead of Bill Atwood who 
 doesn't reach his familiar desk at 60 State Street until 
 July. But Ted Child still stays across the pond in France, 
 transferred to the United States Consul's office at Bordeaux, 
 and Leon Martin waits impatiently for a sailing date that 
 still eludes. 
 
 (Good news! Leon is back now. K.) 
 
 Portland, Oregon, October 20, 191 9. 
 
 Dear Sir: — 
 
 Replying to your inquiry of October 12th, concern- 
 ing James D. Childs, I had a man from Corvallis, Ore. 
 who fits the description. He was Mess Sergeant of Co. F, 
 18th Engineers, and was six or eight miles from Bordeaux 
 and had the pneumonia and throat trouble in February, 
 1918 just as mentioned. He was transferred out of my 
 regiment and discharged from the service last winter in 
 order to receive an appointment in the United States Con- 
 
 146 
 
sul's Office in Bordeaux. I was only too glad to assist him 
 and he served long and faithfully under my immediate 
 command and his record was perfect. I had a letter from 
 him a few months ago and he was in excellent health. 
 Just address nim care of the American Consul's Office, 
 Alle Tourney, Bordeaux, France, and I am sure you can 
 hear from him direct. Glad to be of service at any time 
 in connection with any of the boys who served with me. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 Kenneth D. Hauser. 
 Kenneth D. Hauser, 
 Late Major 18th Engineers (Ry) U. S. Army. 
 
 Unity, Maine, November 22, 1919. 
 Dear Mr. Beat: — 
 
 Your fine letter of October came to me some time 
 ago and I am ashamed that I have not answered it before. 
 However, I have been waiting for a definite word from my 
 husband. In a letter that came on this morning's mail he 
 states that the date of sailing is very uncertain. 
 
 I expect to meet him when he lands on American soil 
 and you may rest assured that your communications will 
 be brought to his attention at an early date. 
 
 Perhaps you will remember Miss Dutton, second, of 
 K. U. A. ? I am that person and in the old days Leon and 
 I were very good friends. At present I am with my father, 
 but it is needless to say that the past two years have 
 seemed ages to the one left behind. It will indeed be a 
 happy reunion for us both. 
 
 Wishing you and yours much happiness in the coming 
 years, 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 Eleanor D. Martin. 
 (Mrs. Leon A.) 
 
 147 
 
Unity, Maine, January 4, 1920. 
 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 Ninety-nine's Christmas card and your personal note 
 came to my reading last night when I arrived in Unity. 
 It is great to feel the fraternal spirit of '99. I appreciate 
 very deeply the minutes you have taken out of a busy life 
 i.o send me these words of greeting. 
 
 I landed at Hoboken, November 26th. Two years 
 and one month since I had last seen New York's sky line 
 disappear under the horizon. It surely sets one's blood 
 racing to see the buildings take shape again and to realize 
 the ever deepening significance of the Statue of Liberty. 
 
 Mrs. Martin and I went at once to Vermont for a 
 short visit with relatives and friends. We were on our 
 way to Maine when I chanced to meet Jim Richardson 
 at Manchester. We spent the holidays at Gardiner, Maine, 
 and now propose to have at least a month of real rest 
 here on the farm. I am already gaining weight and feel 
 renewed in vigor. 
 
 You ask if I have any news of Ted Child, and I regret 
 to say that I have never been able to make connections 
 with him. As I remember at this moment he was with the 
 8th Engineers according to the class report which you 
 senc. I wrote to him as soon as I found that he was in 
 France, but I fear he never received my message. Bill 
 Atwood was the only one of the boys whom I saw overseas. 
 We had a chance to make a trip to Paris together for a 
 Dartmouth dinner last June and I surely enjoyed every 
 moment. Professor Foster gave us a splendid message 
 from the College. 
 
 Sometime in the near future I will try to write a 
 more satisfactory letter. This note is simply to express 
 my appreciation of your greeting. If you ever see Dr. 
 Gordon please extend my regards. 
 
 148 
 
Please accept from Mrs. Martin and myself the best 
 wishes of the season for yourself and family. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 L. A. Martin. 
 
 And in the providence of events George Prescott and 
 Mun Folsom take the longest journey of them all, their last, 
 and leave us two the less in number. 
 
 Lesson Two : The Far- Western 9 
 
 The Secretary has never dabbled much in things meta- 
 physical, but these lessons in geography have already re- 
 vealed some surprising things to him. The 9 Muses fit 
 in naturally enough with ancient history and tradition, and 
 Dartmouth '99 has added to modern times another bit of 
 worthy history and tradition. But there seems to be some- 
 thing more, a kind of magic in that figure 9, however you 
 regard it. For instance, west of the Mississippi, there are 
 9 places in which there are '99 men. Moreover, if you 
 get out your map and locate these places you will find that 
 you can draw through them a huge fantastic figure 9. 
 
 Try it ! 
 
 Here we are at Minneapolis with Dan Ford and Luke 
 Oakes. From here the 9's upper curve swings west to 
 Simms, Montana, where Albert Tootell still "farms it"; 
 bulges out around Seattle where "Bones Woodward and 
 his wife and one of their fine boys" gave Frank and Mrs. 
 Surrey several pleasant hours last August; then makes 
 the turn south through John Ash's home in Corvallis, 
 Oregon, and to Pasadena in lower California where Ar- 
 thur Kimball is. Now the full loop of the 9 is apparent 
 as we shoot east through the Washington Hotel in Phoen'.x, 
 Arizona, (where Willis Hodgkins gives the traveler shel- 
 ter) and going northeast through Buck's home in Omaha, 
 
 149 
 
we make both ends meet at Minneapolis. Then for the 
 vertical stroke of the 9 jump south through Rolla, Missouri, 
 where Elmer Woodman has become head of the Physics 
 Department, University of Missouri, School of Mines and 
 Metallurgy; and finish your line with a little cant west- 
 ward to stop short at Doc Norton's front door in San 
 Antonio. 
 
 Now if you've learned your lesson and can draw neat 
 bulgy o/s, you may take a recess and go meet the postman. 
 
 The University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn., 
 
 September 15, 1919. 
 Dear K:— 
 
 Congratulations — to yourself and Ninety-Nine — on 
 your selection as Class Secretary. The class has been 
 fortunate in the past in its secretaries — how much we owe 
 them for their loyal and thorough work! — and now we are 
 fortunate again. The standard set by George Clark is no 
 easy one to reach or maintain, for his work was of an excep- 
 tional nature but we're all going to pitch in and help you. 
 As for your giving us your best, we have no doubt of that. 
 
 Summer School kept us here in Minneapolis till August 
 12. Then we went to Lake Itarca, where we spent three 
 weeks in the open. 
 
 I have no news of interest to the class unless it be 
 that here at the University we have a Dartmouth dining 
 club — there are some nine of us on the faculty — that meets 
 once a month throughout the school year. Frequently, we 
 have several alumni with us as guests. 
 
 I want to pay my 1919 tax. To whom shall I send it? 
 
 Mrs. Ford joins me in best wishes. As we expect to go 
 East next summer we may drop in on you. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Daniel Ford. 
 
 150 
 
Minneapolis, Minn., August 31, 1919. 
 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 Yes, I missed you at the Vicennial and I missed 
 all the good times and talks that you had. I am the loser. 
 My work here did not line up satisfactory for my leaving, 
 my family was too young to travel, therefore I just had to 
 fail to report at Hanover for the Vicennial. 
 
 Allow me to congratulate you as Secretary of the 
 Class of '99 and wish you the best of luck. The Class has 
 always been with and stood behind the- Class Secretary and 
 I know that you will find no exception in your case. 
 
 George Clark was a fine secretary, so were all the 
 other fellows that preceded him and they all gave fully of 
 their time. George was perhaps situated a little different 
 from the other fellows, not being married and no lady 
 (according to all reports) to unite with, he took a very 
 fatherly interest in the next best bunch of humanity and so 
 became a father to the '99 boys. I will be pleased to vote 
 a "Grand Cross of the Legion of Dartmouth '99" for him. 
 
 I have very little to report about myself other than I 
 have kept busy contracting, engineering, gardening and 
 looking after my family. Dan Ford and his wife are the 
 only *99ers that live in this vicinity, they are both "dandy 
 good fellows" and Mrs. Oakes and I always enjoy an 
 evening with them. 
 
 The first part of this month I was in Vermont with 
 my father and mother for a short visit. On my way East 
 I missed my train going north from Springfield, Mass., so 
 went to Hartford, Conn., to stay over night with a relative 
 and in the evening visited Bill Greenwood and his wife. We 
 had a grand talk about the doings of the '99ers and their 
 Vicennial but the time was all too short to cover the period 
 between 1914 and 1919. On a Sunday afternoon I had the 
 pleasure of driving around Hanover, seeing the old and 
 
 151 
 
new Dartmouth. My time did not allow me to prowl 
 around as I would have enjoyed doing. 
 
 With best of wishes, 
 
 Your classmate, 
 
 Luther F. Oakes. 
 
 Empress Hotel, Victoria, B. C, November 28, 1919. 
 My dear Kenneth: — 
 
 I wonder if you realized how good that was in 
 your note to me — when you asked me to report from my 
 part of the country — saying, "you have 'the still north' in 
 your veins". I certainly have been still — so far as class 
 reports go — for too long a time. I hereby reform. 
 
 I am here in this beautiful little town some one hundred 
 miles from Seattle for the week-end. I should suggest 
 that we work in an extra class reunion here — say in a year 
 or so. It would make a fine trip for the bunch and I will 
 be glad to assist as host to you all in order that I may catch 
 up a little on the anniversaries I have missed. 
 
 I have seen Surrey and his family here twice, so you 
 see it must have its good points when such a conservative 
 as Surrey repeats. Last summer Pearl and Mrs. Pearl 
 were here. I took them up into the mountains to see some 
 much lauded and painted water falls. Raymond said it 
 out-did, by a little, anything he had heard of Western 
 exaggeration — there wasn't a solitary drop of water coming 
 over the falls the day we were there, but we had a most 
 pleasant visit. 
 
 As regards my proposed reunion here — it might be 
 added in parenthesis, and of no significance to anyone 
 probably — that here in B. C. you can get a prescription for 
 all the bottled sunshine you might need at prices which are 
 now only matters of historical interest in the States. 
 
 152 
 
As to myself — I have been plugging along — getting a 
 living and a little more — mostly Gynocology and some ob- 
 stetrics. 
 
 As to the family — we have two boys — one ten and the 
 other two and one-half. All are well. We live in town 
 in the winter or school months and have a little place out 
 about eight miles on the beach in the summer. My wife 
 drives her little coupe, of a popular make, out herself 
 with the kids — so they get a lot of fresh air. 
 
 We hope to get back East soon — were very much dis- 
 appointed that we couldn't make it this fall. 
 
 Remember me most kindly to all of the '99 men you 
 may meet and think over that suggestion for a trip out 
 here. References — Surrey, Pearl. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 Bones Woodward. 
 
 My dear Secretary: — 
 
 Just a few lines to answer your letter of July 28. 
 Since Christmas have had nothing but sickness in the 
 family. March 3rd we were blessed with twin girls, Mary 
 Ash and Martha Ash; Mary Ash deceased March 6th. 
 Mrs. Ash recovered very slowly but is now in fine condi- 
 tion, also Martha who weighed 20 pounds at her fifth 
 month. 
 
 About May 1st was taken sick myself. Got back from 
 hospital August 5th. Am able to get around a little but 
 recovering slowly. Hunting season now open and I can't 
 get away. 
 
 Yours as ever, 
 
 J. W. Ash. 
 
 Here's a P. S. from John's letter to George in June: 
 
 "All I can say is I hope the Reunion will be a roaring 
 
 153 
 
success with the accent on the roar, and tell Jack Sanborn 
 to put in an extra roar for me and if Oregon wasn't dry 
 I might manage a few roars on my own account. 
 
 "But above all things I think you had better get some- 
 body else to mix the concoction this year, there was nothing 
 the matter with the results before but they came too quick 
 for some of us." 
 
 1 199 Stevenson Avenue, Pasadena, Cal., May 31, 1919. 
 Dear Georgie: — 
 
 That in the year 1919, the Twentieth anniversary 
 of the greatest event in American history, I should be com- 
 pelled to write that I will be unable to return to Hanover in 
 June is to me a moment of poignant regret. Such, however, 
 is the case. I have spent several months this winter — or 
 those months that should be winter, but aren't in Cali- 
 fornia — in bed, and though I have been around for a few 
 days I will not be able to make the trip. 
 
 I may as well admit, displeasing as it is, that I have 
 been in very poor health for three years. The condition 
 of my health forced me to sell my farm a year ago and 
 since then we have been living here. 
 
 The fact of retiring to California does help, however, 
 as this is a most delightful section in which to live. Ribbons 
 of paved road stretch in every direction, making it possible 
 for one to reach in a few hours either the ocean or the 
 high mountains. In the year we have been here we have 
 driven 7,000 miles. Our drives have been comparatively 
 short ones, yet we have not exhausted the points of interest 
 in the accessible territory. 
 
 In spite of its natural attractions Southern California 
 is shy on Dartmouth men, particularly of our time. "Pete" 
 Adams, the one exception, who resides only five blocks 
 from here, has a fine "Old New England" house even to 
 
 154 
 
the square squat chimney and green blinds, entirely sur- 
 rounded by California bungalows. "Pete" has kept on 
 "plugging" until about the only thing he doesn't know is 
 the number of his own degrees, titles and honors. Most 
 assuredly "the wonder grew that one small head could 
 carry all he knew". 
 
 "Young Perk" was in Los Angeles shortly before we 
 arrived but feeling the need of the bracing effect of a good 
 "East" wind he went back to Boston before I had a chance 
 to see him. 
 
 I believe that concludes a full and accurate account 
 of my uneventful life for the past three years. 
 
 I was much grieved to learn of the passing of "Herb" 
 Collar. I have nothing but the pleasantest memories of 
 the three years we roomed together, in fact it was one of 
 the finest associations of my life. 
 
 Do not think for a minute, Georgie, that I do not ap- 
 preciate the effort you and others have made to hold the 
 class together, but really I could not get in the mood to 
 write. However, it has been an inspiration to me to receive 
 the reports and communications from you. Particularly 
 gratifying were the reports of the support given by the 
 class to the government during the war. 
 
 I certainly envy you the trip to Hanover for the re- 
 union, the sight of the old place and renewing the pleasant 
 associations. But it is not for me this year. However, 
 Mrs. "Kimmie" joins me in sending greetings to the class, 
 with best wishes for members and honorary members. 
 
 As always yours, 
 Arthur E. Kimball. 
 
 Phoenix, Arizona, P. O. Box 1008, August 6, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 So far I have not heard what went on at Han- 
 over during the reunion and your request was first news 
 
 155 
 
to me of your selection and election as Secretary. Beal 
 is a great name to hand down in the famous '99 Secretary 
 Hall of Fame, along with Barstow, Donahue and Clark 
 and you surely have some great records to equal or sur- 
 pass. Owing to the peculiar fitness of our Secretaries the 
 successor to any one is bound to be able to take up the 
 work, continue without interruption and adjust himself 
 to any occasion that may arise. It is with deepest sincerity 
 that I congratulate the class and yourself. 
 
 As yet I am not really able to say anything for my- 
 self, for after almost twenty years in one office, pursuing 
 one line of business which I had always considered as my 
 life work, not anticipating or expecting any change, I find 
 myself in a totally different state, climate, situation and 
 hope for future, my family en route, my household goods 
 the same, every track and vestige of my Lares and Penates 
 obliterated from the East and about to be set up in the 
 great and glorious Southwest. However, while my first 
 and real reason is on account of Mrs. Hodgkins' health, 
 yet like a true '99er I leave that part of our country with 
 no regrets or sorrows, for if there is a job for me to do 
 I'll do it with a smile. At the present time there is ap- 
 parently no serious reason why we should come here, but 
 another five years in that climate would have caused trou- 
 ble so we are here to avert it. 
 
 There are no mills in these parts, no cards, spinning 
 mills nor looms, no particular market nor demand for white 
 flannel or woolen goods, so after looking around a bit I 
 was presented with my board bill or rather room bill, as no 
 hotels serve meals. That made me think, for no matter 
 whether a man be prince or pauper he receives that little 
 bill for a place to put his head and he has to pay it or sleep 
 under the stars. His first expense is a room and as I was 
 held up at once and gave up ready money, cash, why 
 couldn't I turn around and do the same? So I "picked 
 up" the Hotel Washington and although this is supposed 
 to be the leanest season of the year, I am making my salt 
 
 156 
 
and have "hopes". A person can get credit at the bank, 
 from friends and various ways, but he can't beat "us ho- 
 teliers," for he lays down that little price before he goes 
 to sleep. So while I am looking around at the various and 
 wonderful opportunities in this famous Salt River Valley 
 I have a little business to keep the wolf away. Guy Grif- 
 fin '98, one of the most loyal and energetic of Dartmouth 
 men, has "The Tucsonia" at Tucson, 125 miles south of 
 Phoenix, also "The Bowman" at Nogales on the border, 
 and is very successful and well known in Arizona. Paul 
 Redington 1900, District Forester for New Mexico and 
 Arizona with headquarters at Albuquerque, N. M., passes 
 through occasionally, so I have a friend one class before 
 and one after '99. 
 
 According to the latest figures compiled, Arizona has 
 more per capita wealth than any other country in the world 
 and affairs are carried along on a much larger scale than 
 in the East. During June it was a bit warm, the thermom- 
 eter hovering around 11 6° for days at a time with no 
 rain. Since then it has been somewhat cooler and the winters 
 are wonderful. I have worn white summer clothes since 
 the middle of May and will until into October — no coats 
 nor collars and sleeves rolled up. In June my transporta- 
 tion to Hanover was all reserved and the good George 
 Clark had sent me a list of music required and a copy of the 
 play and everything seemed favorable for the trip, but I 
 unfortunately broke my right little toe while swimming and 
 also several business affairs came up so I felt compelled to 
 cancel the trip. It hurt to do it more than you fellows 
 perhaps realize and you can imagine how hungry I am for 
 news. 
 
 Later on when my family arrives and is all settled in 
 the new home will remember to send you some dope on 
 the possibilities and opportunities of this wonderful state 
 and this city in particular which is growing by leaps and 
 bounds. 
 
 157 
 
With very best wishes for success and a warm shake 
 for each and every one, I am, 
 
 Most cordially yours, 
 
 Willis B. Hodgkins. 
 
 P. O. Box 1008, Phoenix, Arizona, August 18, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 That was a very fine letter received this morn- 
 ing and I'll just thank you for it right now so as to prove 
 that 3,000 miles is not so far after all, for it does not seem 
 but a few days since I wrote and yet it takes about io 
 full days for mail to go, get answered immediately, and 
 return. 
 
 Surely your accounts acted as a copious draught to 
 parched lips and I have been living over the old days and 
 trying to picture all the happenings of those so recently 
 enjoyed by you all. 
 
 There are a few expressions used here which are 
 characteristic of other places — the southern influence for 
 instance producing "you-a\\" for "you" — "Where are you- 
 all going" addressed to one person, or "how are you-all 
 this morning." One never hears a quarter or a half or 
 seventy-five cents mentioned — 2 bits, 4 bits, or six bits, and 
 by the same token 8 bits is not mentioned for a dollar. 
 There is the twang of the Texan and the cursing of the 
 cow-puncher, but rapidly the city assumes mannerisms from 
 other parts as the population rapidly increases. At one 
 time this was a desperate state but now is calm and pliable, 
 no booze, woman suffrage, cheap politics and some of other 
 kinds. However, the gambling has not entirely passed out 
 for at four o'clock this morning there was a shooting affair 
 ending fatally but no one seems to pay much attention to 
 it for they remember the influence of the old days when that 
 little pastime occurred frequently and out went the "shotee," 
 buried with his boots on. 
 
 158 
 
The family by this time, if on schedule, is now at 
 Newton, Kansas, about half way across the state, for Kan- 
 sas' width east and west is one deuce of a ride, and they 
 are due at 9:45 Wednesday morning. Our time is two 
 hours later than ,Boston time one change coming at De- 
 troit and the second at Dodge City, Kansas. The third 
 and last to the coast is just west of here about 50 miles 
 or so. We have long twilights but not light very early in 
 the morning. I have been awake plenty of mornings at 
 4 A. M. but needless to say, without the milkpail on my 
 arm. People who know me have seen me as a bachelor and 
 when I trot around with my flock aboard the "boat" will 
 think I have obtained a ready-made family in a hurry. 
 
 After living so long under exacting conditions incident 
 to mill-bell regime, it is certainly a free and unrestrained 
 life to be my own boss. This little hotel is full to the roof 
 and I have a waiting list. In order to get team work I 
 am the owner and my manager runs the place, living here 
 and on the job practically all the time. As I enter in the 
 morning he says, "Good-morning, Chief," and I answer 
 "Good-morning, Vaughan, anything new?" I sit at my 
 desk perusing my extensive (?) mail and he brings in the 
 accounts which I enter in my tabulated "disbursement" 
 sheets, so that at any moment I can tell you where the 
 house stands as to my account. As yet I have not taken 
 up each room for my class of guests precludes such scien- 
 tific figuring, but before next June I will know pretty 
 blooming well what's what in this line. I subscribed to 
 the Merchants' Police Patrol and an officer visits the place 
 three or four times during the night. If there is anything 
 out of the way he informs me before calling on the police 
 and works for my interest. In that way, for the modest 
 sum of five dollars per month I am able to keep tabs on 
 my house without being here myself or making my clerk 
 stay up all night. So far there has been no report and 
 while I have some people in the house whose lives are not 
 blameless, yet as far as conduct in this place is concerned 
 
 159 
 
there is ho complaint. I will send you another epistle 
 later to complete my record, before, during and after ar- 
 rival of all my wealth — a wife and four kids. Hope you are 
 getting along splendidly and having a grand vacation and 
 rest. 
 
 With kindest thoughts, yours, 
 
 Willis B. H. 
 
 P. O. Box 1008, Phoenix, Arizona, December 13, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 I give my box number as an address which you 
 can put in your file as official, but I have received mail with 
 no address at all save "Phoenix." Don't make the error 
 that I am well known for it simply means that the postal 
 clerk leisurely consults his list and finds that a boob with 
 that name has 1008 as his number. 
 
 Am slowly picking up life again and today, one day 
 over five weeks since my "cutting-up" party, the doctor re- 
 moved every vestige of dressing, bandage, etc. Twice this 
 week I have been down town on business, but along mid- 
 afternoon am glad to hike home and get into my "regi- 
 mentals" — pajamas, sweater and bath-robe and loaf in front 
 of the fire. As this is my last trip (hope so at any rate) 
 I am going to take my time about hurrying back to the job. 
 
 My wife arrived on August 20 with the four children 
 and a bunch of trunks. She went through and sorted all 
 the accumulations of eighteen years in a seventeen-room 
 house, packed boxes and trunks, and had all the furniture 
 and stuff packed up, sold the flivver and moved the family 
 out here — all without any extra help except the men who 
 packed. That for a woman who came to Arizona for her 
 health ! 
 
 In four weeks the car of furniture arrived and then 
 the fun began. It was my turn and after the smoke had 
 
 160 
 
cleared away I had to go' to the hospital to be made over and 
 she is still on the job in every way! Of course she is care- 
 ful and not rugged, but wiry, and while able to keep up and 
 going cannot do too much. She is so happy to have her 
 whole family again that she would have been willing to 
 go anywhere, provided they would be with her. 
 
 Barbara, my oldest, fourteen last April, had com- 
 pleted two years in Punchard High at Andover and went 
 right into Junior year in this high school. Edward, nine 
 in June, was ready for fourth grade, but in October was 
 put into fifth and brings home report cards which remind 
 me of some of mine — they are so different. William, five 
 last March, c*annot enter until next September, so we have 
 him in a Primary Forenoon School, and Richard, four in 
 October, holds the fort at home. Our house is of the 
 bungalow type — everything on one floor, and after the old 
 ark at Ballard Vale seems like some new way of living- 
 There we climbed twenty steps to get on second floor and 
 nineteen to third and had so much room that we used a 
 house phone. Here a whispered word' can be heard all 
 over the place but it is a life-saver for Mrs. H. Think of 
 all the. energy lost in those years of climbing and not getting 
 anywhere except to bed! After the long period in what I 
 thought was a life fixture all these different things seem 
 almost incredible — as though I were in a trance and would 
 wake up some morning to hear the old mill bell and find the 
 dream over; but again, to know I am actually living and that 
 today is the thirteenth of December, windows and doors 
 open, roses still in bloom, lawns green, no snow, sleet or 
 icicles — then the difference comes home. The nights are 
 cold and we need a fire and next month may have one in 
 the furnace for night and morning, but the general run 
 of weather is delightful especially to us, for our blood 
 is not yet thinned out. People who have lived here for 
 some years wear sweaters and heavy winter clothing, and 
 to send them north or east in the winter would probably 
 kill them, but as it takes a long time to bring about that 
 
 161 
 
condition I am not really scared yet. In the northern part 
 of the state it gets very cold but it is about 7000 feet above 
 sea level and no wonder. This state is so large that abso- 
 lutely the whole of New England could be set down within 
 its limits and about twenty-five percent of New York State 
 in addition. All- varieties of almost everything grow or live 
 here — people included. A man just returned from a point 
 northwest 150 miles says he was in a copper mine the other 
 day and helped kill a rattler eight feet long with sixty-seven 
 rattles on his tail — really, that is a fierce one but he is 
 having the skin treated and guarantees to prove it and here 
 a liar is sentenced to death, so it must be true. In the fall 
 we killed four scorpions in the house, but luckily before 
 they had bitten anyone. Tarantulas grow as big as pie- 
 plates and the desert has centipedes, lizards and harmless 
 jack-rabbits and cotton-tails. The famous Gila Monster, 
 a long orange and black spotted, lizard-like creature, makes 
 his appearance in the spring and summer and one at least 
 ought to be sent to Princeton. 
 
 Well say, I am surely filling you up with all kinds of 
 stories, some of which I have said before, but it really is 
 a most interesting place and its history so different from 
 that of the East where we start in 1620 from the top of 
 old Plymouth Rock. Long, long before that there were 
 cliff-dwellers and all sorts of prehistoric peoples roarning 
 around these parts and our old friend Cortez left 
 his cards in various places. True, back there are evidences 
 of Indians, etc., but here there is a sort of ancient atmos- 
 phere and the present reclamation projects stand out in 
 bold relief. No old houses with stories of a half dozen 
 generations in the family seat — the state wasn't even sur- 
 veyed until after the Civil War. No old worn out farms — 
 there are not animals nor fertilizer enough in the country 
 to fertilize these thousands and thousands of acres and 
 as yet there is no need, for by rotating crops the land goes 
 right along about its business. 
 
 162 
 
/ 
 
 You can readily see from all my letters that the change 
 is complete, that it is all in our own country, our own 
 United States, 3000 miles from New England and yet less 
 than four days on the train: that I am trying to adjust 
 myself to the country and its life. It is a cosmopolitan 
 city, growing rapidly and permanently, beautiful yet crude 
 in some respects. To live here is an education, to live else- 
 where the same, but to come right from our old East and 
 dump here bag and baggage is surely a revelation. 
 
 Surely I await the report with the greatest anticipa- 
 tion and how strange to read it away out here! 
 
 Good fortune and happiness to you and yours, and may 
 the load be lighter. The very happiest season possible is 
 my wish to you and sometime you may be here as the princi- 
 pal of this wonderful Phoenix Union High School. Tell 
 Walter Eastman to run a '99 special out here via New York 
 Central and Santa Fe. 
 
 Yours as ever, 
 
 Hodg. 
 
 Rolla, Mo v September 28, 1919. 
 Dear "K":— 
 
 Your appeal for a letter struck me at just the wrong 
 time as I was on my way to Rolla with my family in my 
 Ford. We left Orono July 23d and reached Rolla on the 
 16th of August. We were not traveling all of that time as 
 we made several two and three day stops with relatives. 
 We passed through Hanover and tried to stir up a little 
 enthusiasm in the ten-year-old boy that we hope to send 
 to Dartmouth some day. On the whole we had a very 
 pleasant trip, good weather, very little tire or engine trouble, 
 lots of interesting experiences and lots of pleasant memories. 
 
 I was very sorry that I could not be with the fellows in 
 Hanover in June. At the time you were in Hanover I was 
 
 163 
 
in Washington to meet the director of this school. You 
 are already aware that my trip to Washington was suc- 
 cessful. I spent two nights with Tony Willard and his 
 family at Bladensburg. Tony and I were both elected as 
 full Professors at Maine in June, but the chance to become 
 the head of the department of Physics here with twenty- 
 five per cent increase in salary made it seem worth while 
 for me to leave Maine and come to the School of Mines. 
 This is part of the University of Missouri, buf it is situated 
 at Rolla in order to be nearer to the mining part of the 
 state. 
 
 I am glad that you are to be our secretary as I am 
 sure that the interests of the class will be well taken care 
 of in your hands. I do not believe that many classes have 
 been as fortunate in the choice of secretaries as has the 
 class of '99. Every man we have had has put his whole 
 heart and soul into the work and we want them to know 
 that the rest of us appreciate it too. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 L. E. Woodman. 
 
 S. Antonio, September 8, 19 19. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 Your good letter and its chaser have arrived but I've 
 been so busy gathering my corn crop and surveying leases 
 and cutting up ranches that I've had no chance to write. 
 You see we've had one of those rare wet years down here 
 in the chapparal, sort of an anticipation of the big dry 
 spells maybe, anyway we raised a fragment of a crop and 
 are having a time saving it to strengthen our foundation: 
 i. e. a full corncrib is the best thing on a farm — but really 
 I have powerful little to write about — one day is as like 
 another as two grains off the same cob, and while we know 
 the world does move the movement is imperceptible. My 
 
 164 
 
brother for whom you kindly inquired is now editor of the 
 Fort Worth Record and likes it — I will send him your letter. 
 October 6 — I haven't been able till now to continue this 
 letter but you have already reached two conclusions : first 
 that I'm a "peach" of a letter writer, dear Kenneth, and, 
 second, that I can't write a letter to save my life. Since 
 my last effort a carib has come ashore and side-wiped us — 
 like "Cav" used to fan the Amherst ends and backs when in- 
 terfering for "John" or "Mac" — anyway it knocked things 
 around considerable and was followed by heavy rains which 
 have washed roadways and made it boggy in places. Most 
 unusual sort of a year here on the edge of the desert, losing 
 our bumper crops, which honest to goodness we didn't 
 expect to make, because' it won't stop raining long enough 
 for us to get 'em stowed away. And our ubiquitous Mexi- 
 can has hied him to Kansas city and Minneapolis and all 
 points north and east on account of better pay. Had an- 
 other big rain today, about four inches, as we used to say, 
 and the big circus which rolled in last night said "ta ta 
 San Tone" and rolled out without showing or getting stuck 
 in the mud. Dear Kenneth, this is not a class letter. My 
 days of writing class letters are over, but I was glad to 
 hear of you and from you as I am of every member of '99. 
 All are well down here on the farm. 
 
 With regards, yours as ever, 
 
 Arthur H. W. Norton. 
 
 Road 1, Box 12D, San Antonio, Texas, October, 1919. 
 Dear Ken: — 
 
 Yours of the 14th just at hand. I have had this letter 
 in my pocket trying to get it to town through the mud and 
 washouts. I inclose you two samples of my corn crop for 
 your inspection. The long one is called "Gourd" corn a 
 soft easy shelling variety of 16 to 24 rows, somewhat sub- 
 ject to rust and soft enough to invite weevil. The first 
 
 165 
 
\ 
 
 defect can be reduced perhaps, but not the second. It is 
 the best suited for our conditions of any I know of. Sample 
 two — the round fat kernel is an exotic, from Brazil, 10 to 
 12 rows, long cob, sticks to the. cob like glue and extremely 
 subject to weevil. It was only an experiment this year. 
 
 Please note change of my rural box number. 
 
 With regards, yours as ever, 
 
 Arthur H. W. Norton. 
 
 Lesson Three: The Near-Western 9 
 
 Now if your system can stand a little more higher 
 mathematics, let us introduce you to the next figure 9. 
 East of the Mississippi but west of Pennsylvania are 9 
 more '99 men. And having traced through the farther 
 western '99 localities a broadish, stoutish John Duby of a 
 9, let's make this one a Franko-French sort of 9. 
 
 Put your pencil on Detroit right between where Neal 
 Hoskins makes a business of doctoring and George Rounds 
 tries to doctor big business ; draw a quick line straight 
 northwest to the northernmost shore of Lake Michigan, 
 where Wattie is building that paper mill at Manistique; 
 skim back down the western edge of the Lake to Cush in 
 Chicago ; and continue to the lowest left-hand corner of 
 Indiana, where ,Bennie makes Evansville toe the educa- 
 tional chalkline. Now whisk about as though you were on 
 an indoor running track, call on Squaw Kirk in Indianapolis, 
 make a hop, skip and a jump back through Dr. Homer 
 Carr's office in Niles, Michigan, and so close your longish 
 thinnish 9 loop at Detroit again. Whence it is simple 
 enough to draw your approximately perpendicular stroke 
 south through Peddie's classroom in Oberlin, to Harry 
 Wason's home in Atlanta, or on into Florida if you insist, 
 where he has been all summer. 
 
 166 
 
Please don't talk back to the teacher. If that 9 isn't 
 on the Geodetic Survey Map it's a mere oversight. Stop 
 arguing and go out and get the rest of that mail. 
 
 Detroit, Mich., October 17, 19 19. 
 My Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 I am in receipt of your letter of October 13 and its 
 predecessors, all of which urged me to give my impressions 
 of the reunion in Hanover last June. 
 
 Inasmuch as it was my first experience, the first re- 
 union since we graduated twenty years ago, it is not strange 
 that I should be most enthusiastic. 
 
 . My only regret since then has been the realization of 
 my misfortune in not having attended any of the reunions 
 before. 
 
 George Rounds, whom you mention in your letter, I 
 have seen but little of. The last time was about two years 
 ago. I hear he has since then been married and lives here in 
 Detroit, and is connected with the Social Service Depart- 
 ment of the Ford Automobile Co. 
 
 Carr, the last time I heard of his whereabouts, was 
 living in some town up state, where he was engaged in the 
 general practice of medicine. 
 
 As to the rest of the class members, it is very seldom I 
 see any of them. 
 
 On my annual journeys East, every summer, I usually 
 arrange to see Bob Johnston and spend some time with him. 
 This last summer was no exception to the ' rule, and we 
 spent the small part of ten days in each other's society.' 
 
 I hope in succeeding reunions I may be fortunate 
 enough to attend, and I shall bend every effort that it may 
 be possible. 
 
 With best wishes to you, I remain, 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 Neal L. Hoskins. 
 
 167 
 
Manistique Pulp & Paper Co., 
 Office of Resident Engineer, 
 
 September 8, 19 19. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 Your postcard reminder came today and I will try to 
 make up for lost time by getting something off to you to- 
 night. 
 
 It was a very happy moment for me when the Army 
 authorities decided to grant me a leave and I put my foot 
 on the train for good old Dartmouth and Hanover. , 
 
 The trip north from Boston was very pleasant and 
 seemed very short for the time was passed in the company 
 of a few of the old class and their families. 
 
 At the Hanover station a welcome surprise awaited us. 
 I had had a vision of a ride to the campus in one of 
 "Hamp's" old coaches but instead of that I found the sta- 
 tion almost surrounded by machines driven by our 1 boys. 
 
 The route from the station was over the new drive 
 which we dedicated five years ago and which has been 
 made into a fine entrance to the town. 
 
 At Massachusetts Hall we found that many of the 
 class had already arrived and others came on later trains. 
 
 The days seemed altogether too short for meeting 
 and reuning with all the old friends but our worthy com- 
 mittee had so arranged the program of events that every 
 available moment was made use of. 
 
 One of the things most noticeable was the absence of 
 so many old familiar faces among the faculty. 
 
 Within our own membership the changes seemed to 
 be few. Perhaps we appeared to be more steady and staid 
 citizens of the country and with a little more gray hair 
 or perhaps less of the head covering. 
 
 I was particularly glad to see "Cav" in such good 
 shape after what he had been through and the reports which 
 I had received while on the other side of the water. 
 
 168 
 
The dinner, as usual, was a most pleasant affair and 
 as I sat at the table and looked around the room at the 
 old familiar faces there came to mind many little incidents 
 connected with each one during our four years of close 
 association. 
 
 The morning after the dinner I had to hurry back to 
 Military Duty. It was hard to "break away" from the 
 class, and the five years before the next meeting seemed 
 long indeed but there was a feeling of gladness that I had 
 once more been present at the reunion. 
 
 Regarding your note about what I had to say to the 
 class at the dinner you will find a far better summary than 
 I can now give in the history of my Company which I 
 wrote and of which George Clark has a copy. If you can 
 not get his copy write to Mrs. Evelyn Cable, 1307 Boule- 
 vard, New Haven, Conn., who can probably find an extra 
 copy among my things and send it to you. 
 
 I was discharged from the Army on July 17th, 1919 and 
 went back to work for the New Haven R. R. but an at- 
 tractive offer from Mr. Hardy through Tom Whittier which 
 I accepted made me leave the R. R. on August 2nd and on 
 the 4th I was on my way to this place, Manistique, Mich., 
 to look after the building of a large paper mill. I shall be 
 here probably until the early part of next year. 
 
 Ever since our graduation twenty years ago our class 
 has been noted in Dartmouth circles for the manner in 
 which it has "hung together" and this close association has 
 been due almost entirely to our able secretaries and execu- 
 tives and, perhaps because the most recent, the untiring 
 efforts of George Clark stand out in bold relief. Duriing 
 these recent years of strife and business stress he has al- 
 ways found time to keep in touch with the widely scattered- 
 members of the class and drop to each words of good cheer. 
 
 At his request a number of the boys wrote me letters 
 of greeting during the holiday season of 19 18, each believ- 
 ing at the time that I was sick in some hospital in France. 
 I had returned to duty by that time but was so busy that 
 
 169 
 
I never found time to acknowledge the receipt of them 
 and I wish now to thank them one and all for what they 
 did in helping to tide over a second absence from home 
 during the Christmas days. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 Herbert L. Watson. 
 
 Chicago, III., September 5, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 I have just returned from my vacation and that is the 
 reason I did not write before. I drove to Randolph again 
 and think I can call it the best trip that I have ever made. 
 Went by the way of Pittsburg, Gettysburg, Delaware, 
 Water Gap, New York and Boston. 
 
 I went over to Hanover several times and each time 
 called on Jim but the old devil was away. I am going to 
 write in a few days and make an appointment for next 
 August as I do not wish to miss him again. 
 
 Fat DuBois was about as usual. Says he will have 
 his new teeth in a few days. I allowed with new teeth 
 there would be no excuse for 1924 and he agreed with me. 
 I might add that we had a little game while at home and 
 "Fat" held four sevens against my four fives. "Fat" 
 said it was satisfactory and that he enjoyed it. 
 
 With two or three exceptions I thinjk the fellows 
 looked very well. I noticed that each fellow was not only 
 interested in himself but in the other fellows. All I can 
 say is that the friendship between every '99 man is wonder- 
 ful and I am sure it will always be that way. 
 
 Harold Kirk called on me in July. He is still with 
 the Portland Cement Company and doing well. He has 
 promised to go East with me in 1924. ' 
 
 Now, Mr. Sec, if there is anything I can do for you at 
 any time give me a call. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 "Cush." 
 
 170 
 
Sunday, November 16, 1919. 
 Dear K:— 
 
 Having spent all day writing up the stuff for the report, 
 I am dismayed to find that there is still the letter unwritten. 
 I'll make it very brief. 
 
 The joyous thing about the reunion is that one, like 
 myself, who sees only one or two '99ers a year between the 
 five-year periods can pick right up where he left off five 
 years before, and find the same old Jim Barney and Donny 
 and Carl and Celery that he left at the last reunion, can 
 tell Peddy and Jerry and Franko everything that has hap- 
 pened in the meantime and feel perfectly at home. And to 
 find that you now feel close to an£ brotherly toward some 
 fellows that you never knew particularly well in college. 
 Just to see Pap and Hoss and Bob and Buck and Cav chum- 
 ming around together again was worth the trip east. I 
 saw Squaw just before we left, but could not induce him to 
 come. 
 
 The funniest thing that I saw while I was there was 
 the way Charlie D. Adams enjoyed the fun, particularly 
 the antics of Buck, at our class dinner. The saddest sight 
 was the aging of dear old Johnny Vose and Gabe. The 
 thing that will stick longest in my memory was the way* the 
 fellows doubled up at the reference made by Professor 
 Johnston to one of the college buildings which was sub- 
 sequently rebuilt as Fayerweather Hall. 
 
 The thing that I regret the most is that it was all so 
 short, and that everybody had to dig out so early. 
 
 When I become a millionaire I am going to stage a 
 ninety-nine reunion that shall last two weeks, and see to it 
 that every member of the class has a vacation of that length 
 while his income goes on just the same, and all his ex- 
 penses are paid. 
 
 You ask what has happened to us since the reunion. 
 Hardly a thing. The children are growing bigger and I 
 am growing a little thinner and older. My wife is, as I 
 
 171 
 
hoped she would be, a firm Dartmouthite on her own ac- 
 count now, and wonderfully enthusiastic about all the wives 
 that she met. We only wish that the next reunion were 
 next year. 
 
 I have a new business interest which I did not have 
 a year ago. Two friends of mine and myself have bought 
 controlling interest in a small furniture factory here. We 
 make four-poster wooden beds, wooden lamp stands and 
 phonograph cabinets. It may pan out and make us some 
 money, and it may break us : time will tell. 
 
 I am working all my spare moments, on a new text 
 book for eighth grade children. Hope to have it in the 
 hands of the publishers by New Year's. 
 
 My best wishes for your success in the new job. Our 
 old chapel seat — Barney, Barstow, Beal, Benezet and Ber- 
 ger, — has had its share of class honors — two secretaries 
 and a member of the executive committee. 
 
 Elmer surely set some pace for you other fellows to 
 follow. Donny and George have kept it up and surely 
 you will, too. Each fellow has done just a little better than 
 his predecessor, but only because of what his predecessors 
 have done. Their achievements have made this possible. 
 You, with your four boys and wife to keep you busy, will 
 be particularly pressed for time. George was the ideally 
 situated man. And he certainly made an ideal executive. 
 I understand that the pace he set put a lot of pep into 
 other class secretaries. 
 
 With best wishes to you and yours, 
 
 Sincerely, 
 
 Bennie. 
 
 Indianapolis, Ind v June 6, 19 19. 
 My dear Cushman: — 
 
 Your note was forwarded to me and while I sure 
 would like to stage a little vacation am too busy right now 
 to even think about it. 
 
 172 
 
Am spending most of my time in Indianapolis and have 
 less time than ever. 
 
 Had lunch with Benezet in Evansville not long since. 
 Sorry 'I can't be with you. 
 
 Best wishes, 
 
 Squaw. 
 
 124 Morgan Street, Oberlin, Ohio, August 14, 1919. 
 My dear "IC:— 
 
 Your election to the secretarial succession brings you 
 to a position of responsibility and opportunity which has 
 been made unique by your predecessors. George Clark 
 gave the job the peculiar flavor of a parish priest. The 
 form is set for you; the filling of it will, I am sure, give 
 new significance to the remarkable series of* advantages 
 that the class has had in the personalities of its first three 
 secretaries. 
 
 I know that our enthusiasm for what you will do, 
 will be quite equal to that we have had for the others; but 
 like every parishioner who loves his pastor, I cannot yet 
 forget the impress that George made upon us. The most 
 outstanding result, I think, of his service to us has been 
 the sense of affection and solidarity which must be very 
 rare in college classes anywhere to the degree in which we 
 have it. I haven't words adequately to express the ap- 
 preciation I feel for George Clark; and if I did not know 
 that the holdover of his undivided interest in the class 
 would be at your constant service, I should have a genuine 
 feeling of regret. 
 
 Our reunion was certainly most satisfying. I was a 
 little surprised to find that we had become more quiet, 
 though I know none of us felt any older. The picnic and 
 the play were the two most outstanding events, on account 
 of their uniqueness and high quality. We certainly made 
 
 173 
 
a record in the historical sequence of class reunion's by 
 those two events. I can't understand how anybody can 
 be so bright as "Donny." My only regret is that some 
 of you didn't stay longer, and that all of the rest were 
 not there. 
 
 I was anxious to hear more of the reflections of other 
 men. Our one preacher, "Montie," has softened his the- 
 ology in ten years, and I can't help feeling that the work 
 he is doing in his rural parishes, with his earnestness of 
 purpose, is of growing value. 
 
 The one thing that perhaps might summarize my feel- 
 ings for the reunion as a whole, is the fact that with the 
 increasing diversity of our interests, there is an increased 
 unity in our spiritual attitude. 
 
 Very sincerely, 
 
 Peddy. 
 
 September 18, 1919. 
 My dear George: — 
 
 I have had a wonderful summer. I have been to 
 Washington three times and to New York twice, but most 
 of the rest of the time here, and I have read serious books 
 and novels with a little golf and garden for variety. I 
 think I have never had such a teeming of ideas before. I 
 am only afraid they will not organize. Am reading Joseph 
 Conrad. Never read anything of his before. I think he 
 is wonderful. 
 
 Well, I am a free man again. I have had one deuce 
 of a time with that blooming Union, but I resigned last 
 week after everything had been brought to a proper condi- 
 tion. Most appreciative resolutions were passed in ac- 
 cepting the resignation, and I was presented with one of the 
 chairs which John Wanamaker gave for the use of the 
 signers in Independence Hall. I shall have it appropriately 
 
 174 
 
marked and instruct my children that sometime the chair 
 is to go to Dartmouth College. I value it very highly. The 
 disposition of the bell is especially pleasing to me. The 
 little state of Rusinia which was born in our Union is au- 
 tonomous under Czechoslovakia, has as its governor Zat- 
 kovich who represented them or it in the Union He had 
 just come back for his family. It was voted to give the bell 
 to the permanent custody of Czechoslovakia to be depos- 
 ited in Prague, and to be lent to any of the other countries 
 for exhibition as they request. Zatkovich is taking it 
 over at once. That is where it ought to be. The Inde- 
 pendence Hall chairs are to go to each country as it be- 
 comes free. I plan to spend next summer in southeast 
 Europe. I still am in as much doubt as ever as to whether 
 I have finished or just begun. The world is certainly in 
 chaos and there is not much to do now but to mark time 
 and collect your thoughts. 
 
 I enclose outline of a course of lectures that I am to 
 give in Cleveland this fall and winter. I am working very 
 hard on them. There will be a good stenographer present 
 and there ought to be a book right on the spot. They 
 begin the last of October, and are arousing a good deal of 
 interest. The titles sound so good that I would like to go 
 to the course myself. 
 
 The Plumb Plan is most interesting to me. I am a 
 complete supporter of it. Plumb is an Oberlin man. I see 
 that his daughter, whom I have not yet met, is in my class. 
 I heard him last Saturday, and he is coming here to speak 
 soon. 
 
 I suppose Bill is back long before this. How does he 
 settle down to earning his living? Give him my welcome. 
 
 The frost has spoiled all the gardens in Plymouth by 
 this time. My garden is at its finest now. It will* seem 
 strange to me not to have any occasion to drop into Boston. 
 
 Very sincerely, 
 
 Ped. 
 
 175 
 
Here's the course Peddie speaks of : 
 THE SUBSTITUTE FOR REVOLUTION 
 A Study of Group Conflict, by 
 Herbert Adolphus Miller 
 Professor of Sociology, Oberlin College 
 Chief of Division on Immigrant Heritages, The 
 Carnegie Corporation's Study of Methods of 
 Americanization. 
 
 Organizer and Director of the Mid-European Union 
 Vice President, League of Friends of Korea 
 
 The Individual and the Group. 
 
 Normal and Abnormal Conflicts. 
 
 The Mid-European. Problem. 
 
 Ireland, India, French Canada, Mexico, and Korea. 
 
 The Negro. 
 
 The Class Struggle. 
 
 Defensive Institutions. — Religion and Language. 
 
 The Oppression Psychosis. 
 
 The Paradox of Americanization. 
 10. The National Way Out vs. Revolution. 
 
 October 16, 19 19. 
 
 My dear Kenneth: — 
 
 Of course it requires a little adjustment for everyone 
 to settle down after a year as varied as mine last year. 77 
 is a year ago tonight that I began work on the Czechoslovak 
 Declaration. It was a wonderful night's work. I re- 
 member going to a service one Sunday night in Bowdoin 
 Square with my sister and the idea. that has always stood 
 out from that meeting was that you cannot live on the 
 laurels of yesterday. There is no such thing as getting 
 somewhere and being able to sit down. It is a rather hard 
 lesson to learn, but it is a good one to get learned. 
 
 176 
 
The world is awfully interesting to a sociologist, and 
 the advantage of being a teacher instead of an agent as 
 I was last year is that you can talk about what is and what 
 ought to be without a responsibility to make your theories 
 deliver in actual affairs. I remember Crehore tried to 
 make us see that a theory must be the way something 
 worked. That may be true in pure physics, but it it not 
 true in life generally. The other games are so exciting 
 that I forgot to notice the score in the World's Series. I 
 must confess that I am getting awfully humble about that 
 course of mine. It is some job I have undertaken when 
 one sees that the revolution is already in full swing. I en- 
 close the leaflet which is being circulated in Cleveland. 
 
 I suppose your boys are full of football at this season. 
 The only sign of age that I notice is that I am not so much 
 interested as I used to be. I am deliberately choosing to 
 hear a discussion of the Plumb Plan in Cleveland Satur- 
 day rather than go to an exciting game. I have a daughter 
 and nephew of Plumb in one class. 
 
 The advertising by Joe of the sesqui-centennial is 
 good. How useful his Latin has been to him! It ought to 
 be an argument for the retention of the classics. It will be 
 a great time in Hanover for the next few days. 
 
 Very sincerely, 
 
 Peddie. 
 
 Tampa, Florida, October 26, 1919. 
 My dear Kenneth: — 
 
 Your letter of the 13th reached me promptly and made 
 me feel guilty when I looked up the next previous one, 
 dated July 28th, which has not been answered. 
 
 Possessed originally of an easy going disposition the 
 seven years of life in the South have emphasized the qual- 
 ity. In my mail this morning there came a mild reproof 
 from my wife for failing to write for four days. 
 
 177 
 
Since saying good-bye in June I have been travelling 
 constantly in Florida. 
 
 Mental processes and physical activity become well 
 nigh impossible during the long nine months of summer 
 which we have in Southern Florida. 
 
 The reunion was to me the brightest spot in the twenty 
 years since graduation. I am sure it was the finest one 
 ever held. The only regret I felt was that I had allowed, 
 what at the time seemed unsurmountable reasons, to keep 
 me away from all previous class gatherings. It is my fixed 
 purpose to be present at all future reunions until the end 
 of the chapter. 
 
 I wonder how many of us appreciate to what a great 
 extent we are indebted to George Clark for the great amount 
 of time and energy required in the preparation, to say 
 nothing of his unflagging service and perpetual thought- 
 fulness and courtesy to each of us and our families during 
 the twentieth anniversary. 
 
 Please scare a letter out of "Doc" Hawkes. Next to 
 me he was the laziest man in the class. After the reunion 
 he and Mrs. Hawkes invited the Wason family to join 
 them in what proved to be a most delightful motor trip 
 through the White mountains and the Maine coast. 
 
 By the way, Kenneth, if you think of it let me know the 
 date of the next '99 round up in Boston. Perhaps I can 
 connect. 
 
 We have a few alumni in the East but there is such a 
 disparity in ages, residences and interests that our attempts 
 to form an association thus far have been abortive. The 
 chief reason is that many of us are engaged in business 
 which keeps us moving over long distances. Thus we can 
 seldom get together. However, I do not propose to wait 
 five years more to foregather with those of ninety-nine so 
 please send me your schedule when the date is set. 
 
 As ever, sincerely, 
 
 Harry Wason. 
 
 178 
 
Lesson Four: The Eastern 9 
 
 Having properly digested the preceding lessons of this 
 course in advanced geography, you are now presumably 
 ready for a whale of a lesson on what remains. Not 9 
 towns or 9 cities or 9 men this time, but the '99 towns 
 and cities and men in 9 states: The solid Northeast in fact 
 since we don't specialize as yet on the smaller states like 
 Rhode Island and Delaware. 
 
 And you will please take particular note that '99 holds 
 the country in the hollow of its hand, so to speak, that 
 she distributes her outposts with an absolute regard for 
 strategic points. 
 
 Take the four corners of the country: there's Bones 
 Woodward in the far Northwest, there's Doc Norton in 
 the far Southwest, and there's Harry Wason in the extreme 
 Southeast. Pin up the Northeast and you have it! But 
 can you? 
 
 To make sure, we place sentries on both sides the 
 border, Weary Wardle in Grand Mere, Province of Quebec, 
 and Bert Boston in the Caribou High School, Maine, near 
 the New Brunswick line; and we have backed them both 
 up, and incidentally this whole mathematical proposition, 
 by getting Tony Willard to sell his house in ,Bladensburg, 
 Maryland, and sending him back as full Professor of 
 Mathematics to the University of Maine in Orono. 
 
 So much for the "four corners," and here are Weary 
 and Tony to represent the fourth one. 
 
 Grand Mere, P. Q., November 23, 1919. 
 Dear Ki- 
 ln the first place I want to apologize to you personally 
 for having delayed so long in answering your several letters. 
 
 179 
 
The fact is that when I am busy I haven't time to write and 
 when I'm not busy I'm too lazy. 
 
 My trip to our twentieth was rather a lonesome one 
 as Mrs. W. had been under the doctor's care since Christ- 
 mas of 1918 and was not strong enough to risk the trip. 
 I pasted the '99 label on the windshield but was unable to 
 pick up anyone on the way down. I passed through Ver- 
 mont a few miles up from where ,Fat DuBois is supposed 
 to hang out but was not sure of the route to his place and 
 so did not hunt him up as I supposed of course that Fat 
 would surely turn up anyway. Next time I'll hitch my 
 touring line around him and see that he gets there. 
 
 Like everyone else I suppose that my joy at seeing the 
 fellows that were there was tempered with disappointment 
 at not seeing Lute Oakes, John Ash, Tom Whittier, Doc 
 Norton, Bones Woodward, Bill Colbert and all the rest 
 of the alibi holders. I was expecting to take Jack Sanborn 
 up to the golf links and trim his lilacs but something must 
 have happened to Jack at the last minute. Skeet Tibbetts 
 and I had a few rounds together which were very success- 
 ful (for Skeet) and enjoyed by all. Of course Cav was 
 the fellow that everybody was tickled to death to see 
 again safe and sound, and we all missed Willis Hodgkins. 
 
 I suppose that George Clark has told you everything 
 about his trip up here except how glad I was to see him. 
 You don't know how good it seems to see some of the boys 
 up here once in a while. We have a good many attractions 
 in addition to good grub and a place to sleep that is waiting 
 for anybody that wants to try it. (There are no strings 
 on this invitation except that summer is the best time.) 
 
 It's too early to make any promises but I shall try hard 
 to make the Round-up in March. I shall certainly try to get 
 to Hanover again next June and hope to see many of you 
 '99 fellows there. Next to our own reunions at Hanover I 
 enjoy seeing the other classes' reunions. 
 
 Now, K, be sure and send the report by next mail and 
 don't be too rough with me for being such a procrastinator. 
 
 180 
 
You sure are the most persistent cuss that we have ever 
 had for a class secretary and I'll say that's going some. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 Weary. 
 
 Orono, Maine, December 20, 19 19. 
 My dear Kenneth: — 
 
 Your request for a letter and two or three prodding 
 postals were received. I fully intended to write long before 
 this, but moving up here from Washington, getting settled, 
 and getting to going again in the teaching line have taken 
 most of my time. Consequently, I have postponed writing. 
 This letter may be too late for the Report, but I am sending 
 it along to show that there is no hard feeling. 
 
 I tried to write a letter last year, but George wouldn't 
 let me. He even went so far as to say that he wouldn't 
 print one if I wrote it. Well, "there's a reason," I don't 
 know but that I should have done the same if our positions 
 had been reversed. I'll respect his feelings, however, and 
 not write the story, but I suggest that you question him 
 closely with regard to certain instances connected with his 
 work in Washington. I mention this merely to show you 
 that I am not so habitually delinquent as you may think. 
 
 Our work in Washington is an old story. We were 
 kept busy preparing the food statistics of the country, but 
 the work was interesting and we were confident that we 
 were performing an essential part of the business of fighting 
 the war. In the Statistical Division of the Food Adminis- 
 tration Pearl had gathered about him an especially effi- 
 cient and loyal organization. When a report was called 
 for it was got out accurately and on time. Pearl deserves 
 great credit for his work in organizing and directing this 
 division. While none of us wanted to see the war pro- 
 longed, every one, I believe, regretted when the ties of 
 
 181 
 
association had to be broken and the personnel of the organi- 
 zation scattered. The details have been related, and I will 
 not repeat them. One of the pleasantest features was the 
 opportunity afforded the '99 men located in Washington to 
 get together occasionally and renew old acquaintances. 
 Accounts of those meetings also have been given the class. 
 Walt. Eastman's description of our trip to Fairfax, . Vir- 
 ginia, after making allowances for his imagination, in the 
 main was correct. In neglecting to state that in the hurried 
 retreat after the third battle of Bull Run all the casualties 
 were left on the field of battle he omitted an essential de- 
 tail. 
 
 When the Food Administration was dissolved I worked 
 for about twelve weeks in the War Trade Board helping 
 prepare a "History of Prices During the War." This work 
 was done under the direction of Prof. Wesley C. Mitchell, 
 Editor-in-Chief. This history included prices of about 1500 
 articles, and most of the work was completed in three 
 months. When published it covered about 2000 octavo 
 pages. 
 
 At the conclusion of this work I accepted an appoint- 
 ment as Special Agent in the Division of Agriculture of 
 the Bureau of the Census. In accepting the appointment 
 I fully intended to remain with them during the three years 
 of the decennial census period. Along in the summer, 
 however, I received an offer of promotion in the University 
 of Maine, resigned from the Census Bureau, and moved 
 back to Orono. 
 
 If Pearl's insinuations in the last Report with regard 
 to the real reasons back of my moving out on the Baltimore 
 road were correct, what may be said about his moving into 
 Baltimore itself? As a matter of fact I couldn't. stand the 
 drought down that way, so I came back to Maine where 
 from long experience they have learned how to do business 
 even in dry times. I can see only one explanation for 
 Pearl's being able to stay in Baltimore permanently. 
 
 182 
 
It doesn't seem really like old times here with the '99 
 crowd broken up, Pearl in Baltimore and Woodman in 
 Rolla, Missouri. Everyone was sorry to have Woodman 
 leave the University of Maine, for he had made a good 
 record here. Woodman is rated as a good physicist, but 
 to my mind his reputation as a scientist has one blot upon 
 it. He tried the experiment of preaching on successive 
 Sundays in a Baptist and a Methodist church. Soon after- 
 ward he had a serious illness. This fall he drove a Ford 
 from Orono to Rolla, Missouri. Again he had a period 
 of sickness. A man trained in experiment should have 
 been able to trace and predict the probable effect of a se- 
 vere moral strain on his physical constitution. 
 
 With regard to my family we are now pleasantly located 
 in Orono. All are well, and there is nothing new to report. 
 Living conditions here, I judge, are not much different from 
 those in other parts of the country. Rents are very scarce 
 and desirable ones are practically unobtainable. I had to 
 purchase a place in order to be sure of having a house 
 over our heads. I guess it is just as well, though, for one 
 might as well pay rent to himself as to anyone else. 
 
 I was very sorry to miss the reunion in Hanover last 
 June, but it was absolutely impossible for me to be there. 
 Ikey Leavitt very kindly offered us a ride from New York 
 to Hanover in his Ford, or some other brand of automobile, 
 but even with that inducement my wife and I could not go. 
 As the next best thing I shall wait anxiously for the letters 
 from the '99ers in the forthcoming class report. Give my 
 regards to the rest of the fellows. 
 
 Sincerely yours, < 
 
 Harley R. Willard. 
 
 To make this a really Q. E. D. proposition on that "9 
 states" claim, we will call our witnesses. We've had Maine. 
 New Hampshire! 
 
 183 
 
New Hampshire 
 
 '99's New Hampshire starts with Guy Speare in Little- 
 ton, and goes down through Plymouth where Ernest Silver 
 runs his flourishing Normal School winter and summer; 
 and where George Clark last July would take "a splash in 
 the river after a day in the hayfields and haymows, where 
 the sweat ran out like a spring freshet," or in October at 
 the local fair attended by ten thousand, could see the exhi- 
 bition aeroplane ''circling over his meadows like a great 
 hawk." 
 
 Southwest we go through Meredith, about which cluster 
 the memories of the last days of George Prescott, gone 
 from us only since middle November. Continuing below 
 Lake Winnepesaukee we pass Dover and Luke Varney's 
 50-acre farm and reach the Portsmouth quartette. Here 
 Bill Colbert is still recuperating, with a little business on the 
 side. Guy Corey still offers legal counsel, and across the 
 river in Kittery Bobbie Rowe and Fred Locke do their 
 part in peace as recently in war to make the Navy Yard 
 play its important role in the life of the nation. 
 
 Crossing the state westward we stop at Mun Folsom's 
 in West Epping as did Jim Walker coming down from Lee 
 just to the north when he found Mun not equal in health 
 to the joyous excitement of the Vicennial, but never dream- 
 ing that in five months Mun would be gone. Manchester 
 greets us next, where Rab Abbott yet brightens the walls 
 of its homes and Dave Parker brings back lustre to the tired 
 eye and vigor to the broken body. Stop off a moment to 
 the southwest at Milford and Hale Dearborn greets you, — 
 in his brother's place ; or turn north and Bob Johnston tells 
 his latest yarn in Concord. jBut westward ho ! again to 
 see if Herb Rice's potatoes in Henniker beat the average 
 crop this year. And now we reach the southwest corner 
 of New Hampshire with Charlie Adams and Sturtevant in 
 Keene and Hoppy in West Swanzey. We are not ready, 
 however, to leave the state, home of Dartmouth, without 
 
 184 
 
traveling up the Connecticut back to Hanover. Here Dave 
 Storrs sells the books that Mushie prints (in October 
 Frank had 285 jobs running simultaneously and was work- 
 ing from 5 A. M. around the clock to 2 A. M. again), 
 Meanwhile Skeet Tibbetts manages to keep busy by regis- 
 tering the largest freshman class in the country, so that Jim 
 Rich's political courses may be filled to the brim. 
 But here comes the postman, so I'll stop. 
 
 Littleton, N. H. November 9, 1919. 
 My dear Kenneth: — 
 
 You ask me to write my impression of that part of the 
 great reunion which I was fortunate enough to share. It 
 is too hard a task. But I will truly tell you the dinner, 
 which I reached late and left early, was an epoch in my 
 life. Two things struck me to the heart. First was the 
 democracy of the class which has deepened and mellowed 
 with the years. It was the Dartmouth spirit with that 
 something added which is peculiarly '99. Second was the 
 seriousness of the men, a seriousness underlying all the 
 old boyish mirth which characterized the good-fellowship 
 of that wonderful gathering. It was the seriousness of men 
 who are giving their lives to service and do not readily 
 speak of it except when the clan gathers. It appeared in 
 the good humor of the fellows at table, and in the after- 
 dinner addresses. I had to come away while Cavanaugh 
 was speaking though I heard the half of his talk. 
 
 I think the whole thing over now and I can not under- 
 stand why I did not move heaven and earth to attend the 
 whole blessed week. As it is I missed all but four hours of 
 "Arcardy". 
 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 Guy E. Speare. 
 P. S. I may add this personal postscript of appreciation 
 
 185 
 
of "your letter and to tell you that it has been my good for- 
 tune to know very well indeed your cousin W. A. Bacon. 
 He is pastor of the church which holds my membership. 
 I should think the ties of blood might call you some time 
 to Littleton where we should be all joyed to see you. 
 
 G. E. S. 
 
 Ashmont, Mass., October 30, 1919. 
 My dear "K" Beal:— 
 
 We have recently returned from a ten-days' sojourn 
 with George Clark, at his delightful farm in Plymouth, and 
 at your behest, and for the benefit of those who have not 
 as yet enjoyed that pleasure, I am glad to tell you a little 
 about "Clarkwood" and' its hospitable host. 
 
 The large white, old fashioned farmhouse of — well, I 
 don't know how many rooms— as it is against George's 
 principles to count them or allow any of his guests to do 
 so — but twenty is a good guess — sits back from the road 
 with a row of beautiful maples in front, and with an un- 
 interrupted view of the mountains. 
 
 Of course everyone in the class has heard of the ex- 
 tensive improvements George has made in parts of the 
 interior, and his kitchen, laundry and pantries with all 
 the best modern equipment would draw a deep breath of 
 admiration from every '99 housewife. 
 
 The hot water heating plant, planned by "Willy" Green- 
 wood, seems most ideal to meet the demands of the severest 
 winter weather (which is going some) and his three tiled 
 bathrooms, luxuriously fitted with the newest and best 
 plumbing, are a very great delight. 
 
 The front rooms of the house both up and down 
 stairs have been kept with their old fashioned furnishings, 
 and when one wants a good sing, there are two pianos — 
 one in each sitting room — at one's disposal. 
 
 186 
 
The dining-room is most alluring with its many win- 
 dows and artistic china cabinet designed by George and 
 filled with old china. And the good things that find their 
 way to the table would satisfy the most fastidious appetite. 
 Even then, one must inevitably pass by some of the dainties 
 — for there is a limit to one's capacity — but George be- 
 lieves that when one is on a farm he must have a farm 
 appetite, and he provides accordingly. 
 
 But when one reaches the spacious living-room, re- 
 modelled and enlarged from the original kitchen, with the 
 same old crane and brick oven as well — not forgetting the 
 rich hangings from Irving and Casson — one wants to settle 
 right down in front of a brisk fire and enjoy the "homey- 
 ness" of it all. 
 
 And right here in 'this room, George comes into his 
 own. Of course, if you are a good fireman you may be 
 ordered to see that the fire is kept burning, and bring in 
 logs to replenish it from time to time — but that's fun, while 
 George sits by in an easy chair and reads aloud or enter- 
 tains you in true Clark fashion. 
 
 The first night of our visit some mutual friends ap- 
 peared about nine o'clock and George's first thought was 
 to hurry to the "buttery" and bring forth canteloupes, 
 raised on the farm, baked apples, custard pie and a large 
 bowl of whipped cream, greatly to the amusement and en- 
 joyment of the new arrivals. 
 
 In the morning we all had to take a look at the four 
 hundred acre farm, and walk up to the little bungalow, 
 some distance back of the house, on a slight elevation, 
 where some '99ers have visited for a little, and inspect the 
 attractive living-room with fireplace, bed room and kit- 
 chenette, and best of all, the large screened-in porch which 
 affords an even better view of the mountains than one gets 
 from the big house. George is very free in his invitation 
 to any one who seems drawn to the little house, to come up 
 and spend the summer there, and I know several who would 
 very much enjoy doing just that. 
 
 187 
 
I shan't attempt to describe the farm itself, for I know 
 I couldn't do it justice. I do know that one morning Leonard 
 (I suppose I should say Jim) went out and picked a bushel 
 of lima beans from one row in the garden, and we had a 
 canning bee. 
 
 We took grain and buck wheat to the grist-mill, bring- 
 ing it back a few days later all ground. 
 
 Of course he has quantities of potatoes, soldier beans 
 and winter vegetables — and his new silo is a thing of great 
 pride. I mustn't forget the horses, cows, calves, pigs, hens 
 and ducks. 
 
 Our visit was very much beclouded by George's ill- 
 ness of several days, in spite of his heroic attempt to throw 
 it off. But we were very glad that we happened to be there 
 to play nurse and see that he kept within bounds until his 
 throat was on the mend. 
 
 One experiences such a genuine welcome at George's 
 home that it is only a matter of a few minutes before feeling 
 that one has lived there some time. He seems so entirely 
 happy to be doing for his guests that it makes those of us 
 who have enjoyed his genuine hospitality wish that all the 
 '99ers might have the same pleasure. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Helen Barney. 
 
 George left Plymouth in early August for a motor 
 ride with Ned Warren '01 across Vermont and up along 
 the lakes to Montreal. Rumors of roller skating, bowling, 
 sprained ankles and mountain climbing added to voluminous 
 and stimulating correspondence with a bewildered green- 
 horn secretary in Harwich, Cape Cod, gave the expedition 
 quite a Pickwickian tinge of energy, mishap and sentiment. 
 
 He ended by a three-day visit with Weary in Grand- 
 Mere, and a fine motor trip down to Quebec with him. 
 
 188 
 
George brought back a pocketful of pictures and a glow- 
 ing account of a flourishing community of six thousand 
 with their own electric power plant, water works, and pub- 
 lic buildings conjured as if by magic out of the wilderness 
 by, Wizard Weary. 
 
 In early September George entertained Tim Lynch 
 and his bride returning from their auto honeymoon trip 
 to the middle West. And by their accounts they must have 
 visited during their brief stay most of the spots of interest 
 and beauty in the vicinity of Plymouth. 
 
 Later in the month Jim iBarney and Mrs. Barney were 
 at "Clarkwood" as mentioned in Mrs. Barney's letter. One 
 of their most interesting experiences was riding with 
 George and Ernest and Mrs. Silver to Sugar Hill. There 
 they stopped to look in the window of the "Forge", then 
 closed for the winter. By chance George glanced about, 
 and there coming up the steps was a lady in black, — Mrs. 
 Richardson! With wonted simple cordiality she opened 
 the "Forge," showed her unexpected guests the library, 
 and served them tea on the back porch. 
 
 And in keeping with their fleeting visit to Clothespins* 
 beloved retreat, they stopped on their way back in Fran- 
 conia to call on Robert Frost, the poet of New England. 
 
 Plymouth, N. H., August 31, 1919. 
 My dear K. Beal: — 
 
 Note the date. I am a poor letter writer, but I satisfy 
 you as to date. 
 
 No news of importance attaches to my career since 
 the reunion. I have had a big summer school to run in a 
 small town — some job in these days of H. C. L. and shortage 
 of help. We had to use student help as far as possible 
 and in so doing we used two shifts at each meal, setting 
 
 189 
 
up tables twice. If I had been running a hotel at pre- 
 vailing prices, I could now retire and enjoy my declining 
 years in leisurely, scholarly and pleasurable manner. But 
 the '99 Reunion this summer constitutes my only vacation. 
 
 Guy Edwin Speare has been a valuable member of my 
 faculty this summer. Speare is a recognized authority in 
 New Hampshire educational circles in the teaching of 
 United States Constitutional History and the History of 
 Civilization. George Get-up Clark gave a fine lecture with 
 slides to my school. George is always good you know ; 
 this time he made a decided hit. In the audience were many 
 college graduates who had heard noted lecturers who pleased 
 them, they said freely, not so much as George did. Jim 
 "Rich" called to see me one day and promised to return 
 to speak some day, but he slacked. "Donny", too, promised 
 to read the law of Boston and '99 to us some day. He 
 didn't do it. "Sleep" promised to come up from Boston 
 and Franklin and play some '99 songs and pianologs. He 
 didn't do it. You see, I planned to make '99 conspicuous 
 in my 1919 school. 
 
 Well, K, we've let George do it for a quinquennium 
 (isn't that a pretty looking word?) and he has done a great 
 job. Here's hoping and believing that the mantle of the 
 Barstow succession has fallen on worthy shoulders. The 
 job is indeed a colossal one such as nobody but a literary 
 "feller" like you could tackle successfully. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 Silver. 
 
 967 Elm Street, Manchester, N. H., October 15, 1919. 
 Dear K:— 
 
 Your follow-up postal in regard to reunion report re- 
 ceived. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to 
 comply with your request with a long and exhaustive disser- 
 
 190 
 
ta.tion on the glories of our reunion, etc., but unfortunately 
 my pen does not work as well as that of Donahue, Gerould, 
 Bob Johnston and other shining lights whom I might men- 
 tion. We certainly had a wonderful time at the reunion. 
 It was in all respects more than as advertised, and that 
 is "going some." The men who did not come do not, and 
 never will, know what they missed, although I have faith 
 to believe that they will never miss another one after read- 
 ing this report. 
 
 I am unable to give you any "dope" on the men that 
 you mention in your postal. I did, however, see Mott Sar- 
 gent this summer while he and his family were in Candia. 
 Mott looks the same as he did ten years ago. He told me 
 that he was very sorry that things shaped up so as to pre- 
 vent him from attending this reunion. I very promptly 
 rubbed it into him for allowing things to interfere with so 
 important an engagement. 
 
 I am planning to go to Hanover the 17th of this month 
 to the anniversary of the college. Joe Gannon, Doc 
 Hawkes, Warren Kendall and I, together with our respec- 
 tive wives, at York Harbor this summer, planned this 
 pilgrimage, and we have been looking forward to it with 
 a great deal of pleasure. I am very much in hopes that we 
 may see many other '99 men at this time. 
 
 I might also say that I saw quite a little of Joe and his 
 family, Doc and his family and Warren Kendall and his 
 family this summer, as we all spent our summer vacation 
 at and around York. We certainly had some good times 
 digging clams on the Ogunquit clam flats and reminiscing 
 about our reunion last June. 
 
 I might suggest at this time that York is a very nice 
 place to spend a summer vacation, and to my mind it would 
 make a very convenient and attractive spot for a summer 
 reunion of the '99 men and their families. All those de- 
 siring information concerning York can address Doc 
 Hawkes. 
 
 191 
 
Hoping to see you in Hanover during the anniversary, 
 I remain, 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 David W. Parker. 
 
 Concord, N. H., August 4, 1919. 
 Dear Friend Kenneth: — 
 
 I have your valued communication in which you ■ ask 
 me to furnish you with details of the recent excursion to 
 Hanover on the occasion of the '99 reunion. I note par- 
 ticularly that you say you could not stay for the class dinner 
 and to hear the speaking, and that you want to know what 
 I said. Congratulations, old man, on your escape from the 
 class dinner. The speaking began at an early hour and 
 ran along on one or more cylinders during a large part of 
 the entire night. 
 
 At times it would bubble and spout with life, and then 
 anon it would begin to drip, and would drip in an uncertain 
 manner for a few hours, while one after another passed to 
 sleep. A few- brave souls got up and walked out on us, 
 but I was down for a speech so I had to stay. 
 
 A few hours after midnight they called on me. They 
 wanted me to speak, so they claimed, but what they really 
 wanted was for me to not speak, so that the crowd could 
 get out of there. They were pretty sleepy. So I did not 
 speak, and by so doing won the admiration and love of all 
 my classmates. It is a great gift, Kenneth, to not speak 
 at a time when nobody wants you to do so. 
 
 You ask what is the funniest thing I saw, during the 
 reunion. Well that is hard to say, but it was probably trie 
 baptism of Leon with a few drops of fast disappearing 
 gin. Those of the cognoscenti know what I refer to. The 
 sex of the child, as well as its father, has not been deter- 
 mined. It was christened Leon or Leone, according to. 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 Robert P. Johnston. 
 
 192 
 
Concord, N. H., August 22, 1919. 
 Esteemed Sir: — 
 
 Your favor of the 18th instant at hand and contents 
 noted. I regret exceedingly my inability to answer your 
 questionnaire in which you want to know what Mrs. Green- 
 wood said to Donahue, what the cop said to her, what Jim 
 said, what Buck said, etc., etc., ad lib. What all these 
 people said I do not know, but I do know that at the pic- 
 nic Dr. Neal Hoskins, with his abdominal frontispiece hang- 
 ing out over the waistband of his trousers and the sweat 
 pouring from his unaccustomed brow remarked that it 
 was a "h — of a ways." Bon Mots were plenty at the re- 
 union, although most of them probably escaped my notice, 
 but on the morning after Harry Wason was out his wife 
 pulled a good one when she said she did not hate him, she 
 only pitied him. He got to the christening the next day all 
 right, however, when Lena's doubtful child was named, 
 being called Leon or Leone or Leong, variously pronounced 
 according to gender, that being not known for sure, and 
 so sort of slid over or elided as it were, and not guaranteed. 
 
 As for the lecture on the early archeology of Hanover 
 I cannot say, as the complete notes are not available, but 
 can doubtless give snatches here and there. It is regret- 
 table that the Professor was not more generally introduced 
 around Hanover as there were many who did not even get 
 his name. He is Professor Kilgallon. His lecture he is 
 now amplifying and enlarging and will have it in shape 
 for some later date provided the grim reaper does not pick 
 off the Professor in the meantime. Till then therefore, 
 believe me, 
 
 Yours to command, 
 Rob't P. Johnston '99. 
 
 193 
 
Henniker, December 6, 1919. 
 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 I had intended to write you long ago, but I was not 
 very well awhile in the fall and was busy all the time and 
 just didn't get around to write. I have no news of '99 
 men. I have tried to find Bob Johnston when I have been 
 in Concord, but so far have not found him at the office. 
 Montie Fuller wrote me twice last winter which was doing 
 darned well for Montie. I know a few boys who are at 
 Dartmouth now and had the pleasure of talking over the 
 football games with Cogswell who was end rush this year, 
 not long ago. 
 
 I was sorry I could not be in Hanover last June, but I 
 could not get away. Do you know if Asakawa is still in 
 Japan? I'd like to know. By the way, Hale Dearborn's 
 younger brother Edward died a few days ago. He was a 
 practising physician at Antrim and was liked very much. 
 I wish I had more news for you, but I don't hear much 
 about the fellows except when the report comes. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Herbert W. Rice. 
 
 Milford, N. H., November 3, 1919. 
 
 Dear Friend: — 
 
 Your urgent appeal by hieroglyphics has reached me. 
 However, I have little to chronicle since the last report 
 except that I have removed from western Massachusetts 
 and entered into practice at my home town of Milford, 
 N. H. 
 
 Had the pleasure of being in Hanover in June and 
 enjoyed the sacred concert on Sunday evening and other 
 notable events. 
 
 194 
 
As George Clark gives up his position as secretary I 
 think that we all appreciate the fine work he has done for 
 the class. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 H. H. Dearborn. 
 
 Keene, N. H., October 21, 19 19. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 To say I had a grand good time in Hanover last June 
 is putting it very mild. Being my first reunion it was a 
 great pleasure to meet so many former classmates, many 
 of whom I have not seen since leaving college. I enjoyed 
 every minute of the time with them. 
 
 Too much praise cannot be given to our retiring secre- 
 tary, George Clark, whose untiring energy, class loyalty, 
 and love for Dartmouth, made this reunion such a memo- 
 rable one. He is a right good fellow and one of Dart- 
 mouth's best. 
 
 The Class of '99 has a worthy successor in you as our 
 new secretary. Allow me to extend my congratulations. 
 
 Having so many pleasant memories of my first reunion 
 I am longing for the time to come for the next. 
 
 Best wishes for you and your family. 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 Chas. E. Adams. 
 
 West Swanzey, N. H., September 10, 1919. 
 My dear "K":— 
 
 We, Mrs., Faith and I, so thoroughly enjoyed the 
 "reune" that I feel like writing but I have nothing particular 
 to say. 
 
 195 
 
The best things to me, besides the personal touch with 
 the fellows, were the show so ably put on Sunday evening 
 and the tea at '94 headquarters with that class. The show 
 not only pleased and entertained us, but was the "hit" with 
 everyone else, as we were repeatedly told by everyone who 
 saw it. 
 
 The splendid comradery of the whole class and families 
 and the cooperation of the ladies in everything was delight- 
 ful. 
 
 Charlie Adams has just been elected President of the 
 Cheshire County Dartmouth Association. We held an 
 outing last Saturday at a lake in Munsonville, outside Keene. 
 I was unable to attend, but a very good time is reported. 
 Sturtevant is the only other 'gger in this County but he and 
 Adams are both active in all that pertains to the Dart- 
 mouth interests. 
 
 Faith, my daughter, made some very nice friendships 
 at the reunion and said today she thought those reunions 
 were just the right tb'' ng. 
 
 "K," I appreciate your masterly letter and am sure 
 it will bring out some good copy. I do not consider this 
 for inclusion and am sorry I have not something more tan- 
 gible. 
 
 Clark endeared himself to us all by his untiring labor 
 and the personal touch his letters and calls gave. He always 
 visited all of us he could and I am sure there is nothing 
 better than a visit to any of us. 
 
 Joe Gannon taught school in East Swanzey during our 
 College course. He is a demi-god in that locality. The 
 District where he taught now has an annual reunion at 
 the school house and so far at each reunion Joe has been 
 the Guest of Honor and Distinction and makes from one 
 to three speeches on each occasion. He attended one held 
 August 23 this year. 
 
 Trusting you and family are well, I remain, 
 
 Hoppy. 
 
 196 
 
Hanover, N. H., November 4, 1919. 
 My dear "K":— 
 
 The class — most of it — has been in Hanover during 
 the last few months — it knows present conditions and pre- 
 sent needs, and even if it did not the class report is not 
 the place to emphasize them. So I will not write a regular 
 letter now. Wait until the Round-up which I shall make a 
 desperate effort to attend this year, and then if you want 
 me to talk to the bunch I will. 
 
 You can tell the crowd that I am spending all my spare 
 time on two widely remote interests : first, along with Joe 
 Gannon, looking out for Dartmouth athletic interests, es- 
 pecially football ; second, talking to New Hampshire women 
 about the problems of citizenship, which they will shortly 
 have to tackle. 
 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 Jim. 
 
 To get what Hanover thinks of Jim read last June's 
 "Bema," "A Causerie on Congress" by Gordon P. Mer- 
 riam, and the writer's appreciative remarks on "Our own 
 Jim Richardson's" suggestions as to "Creating some per- 
 manent, non-partisan, outside commission to which all local 
 bills should be referred for investigation and report," 
 and other similar progressive suggestions. The writer 
 concludes : "These are some of Jim's ideas for better legis- 
 lation. Just how many more he has stored up in the back of 
 his head is hard to say, but the chances are that these 
 will hold us for a while." 
 
 Vermont 
 
 Just a step across the river from Hanover and here is 
 Clarence Joy of White River, with Sam Smith's home down 
 
 197 
 
the Connecticut a bit at Windsor, and Warren Kendall's 
 old home up the river at Pompanoosuc. Up the river still 
 we follow the '99 ripple to Wells River, where Herbert 
 Lyster's creamery is, on to Passumpsic, where Tedo Chase 
 makes leather board, and so to St. Johnsbury where Tedo 
 lives and weighs his children on Franko's infallible scales. 
 
 With a jump across to Dr. Ed Hyatt's office in St. 
 Albans in the northwest corner of the state, we run back 
 down through the middle past Tom Cogswell's headquarters 
 at Plainfield with the Nellie Gill Players, with whom Tom 
 has made a particular hit in ''The Senator's Daughter" as 
 Senator Socrates Clay ; past Cush's old home in Randolph 
 where John DuBois keeps the '99 torch alight, and so to 
 Arthur Wiggins's flourishing family and schools in South 
 Londonderry. 
 
 But some of the boys want to speak for themselves. 
 
 White River Junction, Vt./ September 23, 1919. 
 Dear K:— 
 
 Tonight at 8 145 P. M. I have sat down with my family 
 for the first time since school closed in June. Mrs. J. at 
 once reminded me that I ought to write you. She is a 
 great '99er and has been anxious that I should get this off. 
 
 We certainly had a great time at Hanover in June. 
 Nothing anything like it. I cannot expatiate upon it for 
 those who were not there. We certainly had a fine time 
 talking over old times and learning how the world had 
 used the other fellow. 
 
 I want to add my word of appreciation for the work 
 George Clark has done for '99. He is a good old sport 
 and has won his way into the hearts of every '99 man. The 
 ladies think the world of him and why in thunder some one 
 of them doesn't capture him is beyond me. 
 
 Well, K, you certainly are "it" and here is to your 
 
 198 
 
good luck. We shall enjoy hearing from each other through 
 you. Ninety-nine does things the right way and will back 
 you in all your endeavors. 
 
 You will doubtless hear from Pauline who enjoyed 
 every minute of the time at Hanover. I think she thinks 
 a lot more of her father since she has learned what kind of 
 company he used to keep. 
 
 Cordially and sincerely yours, 
 
 Clarence L. Joy. 
 
 Passumpsic, Vt., November n, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 Am I a bit late in giving you some reply to those en- 
 treating postals ? They certainly deserve some sort of reply. 
 
 Now in June I had to take the trip to Hanover all 
 alone for certain good and sufficient reasons. Now as a 
 partial recompense we have a new daughter, born Sep- 
 tember 27th, by name "Elizabeth" — no middle name as yet. 
 That makes us three now, somewhat behind some of the 
 boys, isn't it? I guess there is little hopes of catching up 
 but then on the other hand we are hardly committing race 
 suicide either. 
 
 Just a word in regard to last June. I wish to express 
 my appreciation of everything that happened there, it was 
 certainly one fine reunion. I had the group picture out just 
 a couple of days ago showing it off and admiring it. But 
 I expect the next to be just as good with you at the helm, 
 Kenneth. 
 
 I have very little news to give you. I still conduct 
 the same old business, living in St. Johnsbury — and a good 
 place to abide in it is — going back and forth to Passumpsic 
 — three miles below — every day. Usually find a little bit 
 more than enough to do, too, to take up the time. The 
 only one of the boys I see around these diggings is Harold 
 
 199 
 
French. I certainly do pity him since prohibition went 
 into effect, he has lost some weight since then. But per- 
 haps that's just a coincidence. 
 
 If you are ever up this way I'll certainly expect to have 
 you drop in, Kenneth. Mrs. Chase and I and the kids will 
 try to make it pleasant and if it is in the summer we will 
 take you to our camp, and if you don't enjoy it there, 
 there is no hope for you. 
 
 Most sincerely yours, 
 
 Tedo. 
 
 Bethel, Vt., September i, 1919. 
 Dear Beal: — 
 
 My visit to Dartmouth left me utterly bewildered. It 
 seems like a dream, or one of the fairy plays we see now 
 and then — the changes during the twenty odd years since 
 I was there are wonderful — but there are still enough of 
 the old landmarks left to give me the feeling of my fresh- 
 man days. 
 
 The greatest thing I saw at Dartmouth was the class 
 spirit of '99! Why, I was only a freshman when I left, 
 but you fellows welcomed me with as much hearty en- 
 thusiasm as you did the class leaders. I think the thing I 
 shall always remember, and which impressed me the most, 
 was that auto load of boys coming down to the Junction 
 at three o'clock Sunday morning just to get me — and, as 
 I heard you fellows sing the old Dartmouth songs on the 
 way up to Hanover, I'll admit I realized what a wonderful 
 class spirit '99 has, and tears stood close to the surface. I 
 didn't know any of the fellows well enough to know their 
 personal characteristics, but could remember now and then 
 some of the happenings of the first year. The funniest 
 thing I heard was Bob Johnston's monologue — good enough 
 for any big circuit. 
 
 200 
 
Had the trip cost me ten times as much I should have 
 never regretted it— it taught me that, after all, once a mem- 
 ber of '99 always a member. 
 
 George Clark deserves all the credit in the world for 
 his work as secretary of '99 — he will be hard to equal, but 
 I feel certain you will prove that old Dartmouth is not a 
 one man college, and that the class knew its business in 
 picking you as its new secretary. 
 
 Wishing you all the very best of good luck and good 
 health, I am 
 
 Very truly, 
 Thomas Cogswell. 
 Permanent address, 
 Plainfield, Vt. 
 
 Randolph, Vt v August 3, 1919. 
 Brother Beal: — 
 
 Not much to say about myself, but am sorry for sev- 
 eral reasons that I could not see my way clear to attend 
 Reunion last June. 
 
 George Clark certainly rilled the place of secretary O. 
 K. and I think the members of the "good old Class of '99" 
 owe him not only their heartfelt thanks but their respect. 
 He has always made you feel "right at home." 
 
 The next five years will bring many changes to us all, 
 and I am going to grow younger and endeavor to be at the 
 next Reunion. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 John H. DuBois. 
 P. S. Cush says Buck Burns is a fine waiter. 
 
 201 
 
Massachusetts 
 
 And so from the south of Vermont we cross to the 
 upper lefthand corner of Massachusetts to step in for a 
 chat with Ralph Payne at his Greenfield drug store. South- 
 west, Montie labors in New Marlboro, while straight south 
 is Springfield, where Herbert Bailey raises houses though 
 rents rise too; where Maurice Dickey gives way to his 
 co-worker on the "Springfield Union," Sherman '94, for 
 the privilege of attending a Dartmouth Class Reunion, but 
 finds some compensation in being promoted from night 
 editor to day editor; and where Elmer jBarstow keeps 
 the Burrows Grammar School on the upward grade. . 
 
 Eastward we head for Worcester. We look for Cav, 
 but he is mostly on the Boston College athletic field, craftily 
 and incessantly coaching his boys until they beat the Yale 
 bulldog 5 to 3 and humble their great rival, Holy Cross. 
 Incidentally he publishes a masterly book on "Inside Foot- 
 ball," and gives the other candidates for the leadership of 
 the state branch of the American Legion a close run. 
 Spade Heywood is as hard at work as ever, both in business 
 and in leisure hours, drafting, reading, exercising in the 
 Gym, or endeavoring to persuade Fred Walker to drop 
 some of his engrossing legal cares and travel to the Ses- 
 qui-Centennial. Spade says the steel strike was his own 
 excuse for not being in Hanover again in October. 
 
 Three in Worcester and three near Worcester. Three 
 times three is 9 again. There's Hobe northwest in Gardner 
 in his finely furnished legal office, to the southwest is Eddie 
 Skinner in Southbridge, and southeast is Ralph Hawkes. 
 You'll hear more from him at the Sesqui-Centennial. 
 
 The Worcester Air Line to Boston will carry you within 
 a short walking distance of Herb Rogers in Newton Upper 
 Falls, though if you'd gone by on Columbus Day you'd 
 have missed him because he and his family were up at the 
 old home in Tilton. Over the other side of the Newton 
 circuit on the B. & A. Pitt keeps the boulevards near New- 
 tonville packed down by speedy motoring, and as President 
 
 202 
 
of the Middlesex Street Railway Company tries to con- 
 vince the public that the day of the trolley is not yet gone. 
 In Allston we find Joe Hobbs just back from a day in the 
 Boys' Latin School. But before we go into Boston our- 
 selves, we will make a flying series of calls down the line 
 from northeastern Massachusetts on Bill Currier in Ames- 
 bury, Sully in Lawrence, Ed Allen in Arlington, Arthur 
 Irving in Winchester — and the Melrose quartette of Bill 
 Atwood, K. Beal, Walt Eastman and George Huckins. It's 
 a crowded section. Though Bill Eaton has left Medford for 
 New York for a time, Judge N. P. is still in Everett when 
 he's not holding court sessions elsewhere, and you can't 
 get past Somerville without at least looking in at Sleep 
 and Paul Osgood and George Evans. 
 
 At last as you strike out at a brisk gait across Boston 
 proper in the early morning you miss Tim Lynch at. his 
 familiar corner on Irvington Street, waiting for the South 
 Boston car to take him to the Bigelow Grammar School. 
 You see you had forgotten that he married Miss [Bernadette 
 M. White of Charlestown last July 15th, gave his bride 
 an auto, and promptly started off in it on a wedding trip 
 to the Middle West and back. Of course George Clark 
 came down from Plymouth to be best man> and of course 
 when they came back they side-tripped to Plymouth as 
 explained elsewhere, and of course finally when school 
 opened they moved out to join the Dorchester colony. 
 
 So now the Dorchester contingent numbers five: Win 
 Adams, Jim Barney, Donnie, Everett Hardwick, and Tim. 
 
 Win, by the way, had a specially trying experience on 
 Wednesday morning, November 19th, when he was stopped 
 on his way to work by a telegram saying that his old home 
 at Limerick, Maine, had just burned down. It was a fine 
 century-old place, seventy-five years in the family. It was 
 as much as ever that his mother and aged uncle and aunt 
 escaped when a defective chimney started the trouble. 
 Win's mother will be with him for a while. 
 
 203 
 
But we must leave the '99 hive of Boston proper, 
 look in at Bob Croker in East Weymouth, say "Halloo" 
 to Galush as he boards the Sharon train for the city, and 
 at New Bedford say "Good-by" to Mott Sargent and to 
 the old Commonwealth of Massachusetts. 
 
 But the postman has left some Massachusetts mail 
 from west to east, and here it is : 
 
 New Marlboro, Mass., August 25, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 You ask for my talk in Chapel at our reunion. I 
 shrink from writing it because it, apart from the 
 atmosphere of good fellowship and religious flavor of that 
 hour, may seem somewhat insipid, but I give it to you. 
 Also please remember that a skeleton with no flesh and 
 blood is very unsatisfactory. Not one of you can know 
 what that reunion meant to me. It gave me such a new 
 faith in men; to see how we have all grown in knowledge 
 and grace. Perhaps I may venture to tell you that I feel 
 that my pastorate has enlarged and it now embraces the 
 class of '99. If this seems to you an unworthy assump- 
 tion on my part please forget it. But as a lowly shepherd 
 of souls let me feel the incentive there comes to me in 
 embracing you, everyone in my prayers. 
 
 I presume that I have written enough of this kind 
 but it is my life and my joy. 
 
 To George Clark, to all you men of '99, your wives 
 and children, and you, Kenneth, I would send my best 
 wishes. 
 
 Yours, 
 M. J. B. Fuller. 
 
 204 
 
Round Pond, Maine, August 25, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth:—- 
 
 Well, we were glad to receive your letter and to see 
 the enthusiasm and devotion that you are putting into your 
 new task as Secretary of the Class of '99. We school 
 men are working so hard to teach our classes and inci- 
 dentally nowadays to keep the wolf from the door and 
 the fringe from the bottom of our trousers, and yet here 
 are you, Kenneth, "it" as you put it in the '99 Secretarial 
 game of tag, and going right to it with a call that all must 
 heed. 
 
 We thank you, Kenneth, for your willing spirit in 
 taking the Secretary's mantle. The boys of '99 will back 
 you up. Though it will mean much work and added care, 
 in the long run it will bring a great deal of satisfaction. 
 But back in my day, the secretary served the good old class 
 of '99 for a decade, and here are Donny and George both 
 doing so much in five short years that we are already 
 allowing them to write an "ex" before their names. They 
 were both great secretaries, and we congratulate you on 
 following them. 
 
 Surely we had a wonderful time at the reunion, and 
 we must thank our committee for their splendid work in 
 planning it all, and putting it across in such fine shape. 
 The B's along that famous row, "Beal, Barney, Barstow, 
 Benezet" with their wives were all present. And some 
 wives ! But other B's were missing whom we wanted to 
 see. As for the A's all were there except E. A. Abbott, 
 Asakawa, Ash and Atwood, every one prevented by great 
 distance and the demands of the hour. Fod described 
 Bill Atwood at the Christmas season as "busy playing 
 Santa Claus for the French youngsters near his camp." 
 By this time Mrs. Bill will be looking for his return, as 
 we all are. (Since writing this I have today received a 
 fine letter from Bill. He is back here and in Maine and 
 returns to ,Boston September 2 to see if he has any clients 
 left!) 
 
 205 
 
But of course I can't go down through the alphabet, 
 and shall break off with the A's and B's. Frank Surrey 
 
 would have been with us at the reunion had it occurred a 
 
 * 
 
 week earlier or a week later, but for compelling reasons 
 had to be on the job at his school at just that time. I had 
 a card from him recently from the Grand Canyon, Arizona. 
 What an interesting and important work Peddy is doing. 
 His talk at the dinner was one of the very best. We are 
 proud of his achievement, as of that of Warren Kendall, 
 Pearl, and many others of our class. 
 
 I looked in to see George Clark on a July morning, 
 but did not find him in his office that day. We all think 
 of George as our personal friend. Certainly he has glori- 
 fied the office of Secretary. With a fine courtesy of the 
 heart that is akin to love, George has shown the deepest 
 friendship to every man in the class, and we of '99 owe 
 him a debt of gratitude that must forever remain unpaid. 
 
 As for my family, we have again had the privilege 
 of a delightful rest and recreation period this summer, at 
 quiet Round Pond, here by the "big sea water," and are 
 returning to city life much refreshed for the year's work. 
 I was sorry to miss a call from Woodman in Springfield 
 at the very end of June. Later I learned in a brief chat 
 with Donny that Woodman goes to a new work in the 
 West in September. You will have a record of that. 
 
 We shall all await with the keenest interest the next 
 report, and we wish you joy and success in its prepara- 
 tion. 
 
 As ever, sincerely, 
 Elmer W. Barstow. 
 
 10 Oread St., Worcester, Mass , August 18, 1919. 
 Friend Beat: — 
 
 I suppose there is no way more satisfactory to you for 
 us to show our sympathy in your new task, than by prompt 
 
 206 
 
reply to your appeal for letters, — even though they be un- 
 printable. I prepared an epistle as soon as I got your cir- 
 cular, August first, but after some reflection decided to mo- 
 dify its tone, hence this delay. Your call upon those who at- 
 tended the Vicennial is easy, compared to some of the whole- 
 sale confessions demanded in the past, and should meet 
 with abundant response. 
 
 This Reunion had special significance to me as it was 
 my first visit to Hanover since I left it in August, 1900, and 
 gave me a most interesting mental experience, but that 
 does not mean it would be interesting to others. 
 
 Your timely reminder that this is a fitting place to ex- 
 press our sentiments towards George Clark, moves me to 
 testify that it was largely his influence in the way your letter 
 indicates, that caused me to go to Hanover. I felt that the 
 presence of his classmates would gratify him more than any- 
 thing else, and would be evidence that his efforts are ap- 
 preciated. 
 
 But there is one fallacy in the appeals to attend re- 
 unions, which I cannot refrain from exposing now that I caa 
 speak from experience. I did not expect to feel any younger, 
 but quite the reverse, by seeing the gray hairs, or bald heads, 
 and the big tummies of those whom I remembered as boys 
 twenty years ago. My expectations were correct. Those 
 who come within the description as stated, may find re- 
 unions a fountain of youth, but those who meet mostly a 
 younger generation and thus forget their own age, cannot 
 be rejuvenated by having their years vividly shown to them 
 by classmates. The chief impression which I got from the 
 Vicennial was that the Class of Ninety-nine has reached 
 middle age and shows it. That the strenuous years have 
 brought prosperity also, was evident, but. I would have been 
 equally well pleased to see less prosperity and more health. 
 It seems to me that the list of those we recall at memorial 
 services is far too long, and I got little satisfaction from the 
 statement of Ninety-nine's leading scientist, that our aver- 
 
 207 
 
age is bound to be the same when the years have passed. 
 Nor do I think it will be much satisfaction to the last few 
 survivors, who presumably will live to extreme old age, to 
 know that they are thereby maintaining the average, and 
 placing the Class in the right relation to the laws of mor- 
 tality. 
 
 For my own affairs there is nothing to be added to the 
 records of which you have become the custodian. To the 
 casual observer I am living as I have lived the past four 
 years. My days are occupied with the drawings and tech- 
 nical records of a small part of the American Steel & Wire 
 Company. The chief recreation of my evenings is found 
 in the Gymnasium of the Y. M. C. A. 
 
 It has just occurred to me that I am writing to an ex- 
 pert in the English language, and therefore to ease your suf- 
 ferings as much as possible I will end this effusion speedily, 
 giving you full permission to censor or obliterate, according 
 to the plan you have doubtless outlined for the spirit of the 
 forthcoming report. If you use it, I would bespeak your 
 expert attention to make the language of this letter har- 
 monize with the high literary standard which we will now 
 expect in the Class reports. 
 
 I was surprised to receive a letter from Bill Atwood 
 the other day, dated at Hampden Highlands, Maine. He has 
 been back about a month, but I presume you will hear from 
 him more directly. 
 
 With best regards to you and yours, 
 
 Very sincerely, 
 
 A. L. Heywood. 
 
 Gardner, Mass., October 29, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 The thing about the reunion which I shall remember the 
 longest was the sight of the Parkhurst Professor of Law 
 
 208 
 
soundly sleeping on a couch on the stage in Robinson Hall 
 at 7.30 a. m. on Sunday morning, waiting for his fellow 
 actors to come around for a much needed rehearsal of "our 
 show." Even in slumber, he was dignified. One could tell 
 by looking at him that he was a professor, or something. 
 
 Reaction? I had no reaction. All I remember of the 
 reunion was acting and acting. There was plenty of the 
 one, and too much of the other. We did have a great visit, 
 didn't we? From the tea on Mrs. Richardson's lawn to the 
 academic procession of Wednesday morning, it was a real 
 visit to the "Shrine of Perpetual Youth." 
 
 I pity the poor souls who missed such events as the 
 Saturday night caucus in "Long Jim's" cement replica of 
 the Copley Square dungeon, the christening of "Buck 
 Burns' " loving cup with all due solemnity in Hubbard Hall, 
 the initiation of Irving Cobb into Ro Kappa Tau in the vale, 
 of Tempe, "Cav's" impromptu concert in Massachusetts 
 Hall, the Tuesday night gathering on Rollins Chapel steps 
 where "Peddy" Miller, "Dr." Pearl, "Spade" Heywood, 
 "Franco" French, Charlie Donahue and retinue held a two 
 hour session in which wisdom and wit flashed like sparks 
 from an anvil. 
 
 And now I am back in Gardner, practising law, and 
 holding down the usual jobs of a country squire. No change 
 in outward things, but changed inwardly by the inspiration 
 and the delights of that wonderful Twentieth Reunion. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Hobe. 
 
 16 Woodland St., Arlington, Mass., November 23, 1919 
 Dear Kenneth : — 
 
 That reunion in June was something grand. Words 
 fail to express my feelings as I met the boys, one after an- 
 other, and the subsequent entertainment provided by the 
 
 209 
 
committee. Mrs. Allen and I especially appreciated the 
 efforts of the '99ers living in Hanover. How could one 
 forget that little party at Jim Richardson's? Both Mrs. 
 Richardson and Jim seemed so happy in entertaining us. 
 Then there was Dave Storrs who was right on the job. 
 
 I was very sorry for those who were not able to be 
 there. Let's hope that they will never miss another. 
 
 We wish to extend our thanks to George Clark for the 
 part that he took towards our entertainment. 
 
 Some of the boys have changed more than others, but 
 on the whole the change seemed less than one would expect 
 in twenty years. 
 
 Since the last report I have associated myself with The 
 Daggett Chocolate Company, 35 Lewis Wharf, Boston. We 
 employ about two hundred and fifty, and of course manu- 
 facture candy as well as soda fountain supplies. 
 
 Most sincerely, 
 
 Edwin L. Allen. 
 
 Hampden Highlands, Maine, August 5, 1919. 
 My dear Kenneth: — 
 
 I had no sooner received George's account of the re- 
 union and the information that you had been elected his 
 successor as Class Secretary than along comes your nicely 
 mimeographed letter of July 28 in a Class Secretary's best 
 style, which shows that for being "Johnny-on-the-Spot" 
 you may yet have something on your early rising and tireless 
 antecedents in office. 
 
 You will note by the above heading that I am sojourning 
 in the land of my ancestors. I landed at New York July 
 18, and as our trip over in the Northern Pacific seemed to 
 be disconcerting to my system I took some days off to re- 
 cuperate, and then July 30, boarded the Eastern S. S. Com- 
 pany's Camden with Helen and Martha for another sea 
 trip but a far more delightful one to me. 
 
 210 
 
I expect to be here at the old farm until after Labor 
 Day, puttering around the place, cutting dead wood out of 
 the orchard and repairing the ravages of the elements 
 about the buildings since I was here two years ago, between 
 times going berrying and fishing with my young nephew, 
 Harvey Hutchinson, or taking the whole family for a swim 
 in the Penobscot. My sister is here with her three children 
 and these, with the help of their Airdale pup and of our 
 own young daughter, keep things moving about the old house 
 most of the time. 
 
 It was a keen disappointment to me to have to. miss the 
 reunion. You know that, but "Fod" Martin who was sta- 
 tioned near me at St. Nazaire was persuaded to accompany 
 me to the Dartmouth dinner at Paris June 14 and we did our 
 best with the limited facilities of the town to imitate a large 
 '99 reunion. 
 
 I got autographs of the forty present on a menu card 
 for G. Clark's archives and Fod and I together sent a cable 
 to the class. Dr. Lines '84 presided, and "Eric" and Dr. 
 Fred Lord '98 were head table orators. When the toast- 
 master finally reached me after the picking was getting poor 
 he asked me to tell the assembled brethren "something 
 about the men of my time," apparently figuring me an old 
 timer on account of the gray hairs I got while waiting and 
 working for a passport to France. I got up and announced 
 that "I belonged to the Class of '99 which not only had a 
 100% attendance of its members in France at that time but 
 was staging a reunion in Hanover with some battle scarred 
 exhibits who had done their job in France and gone back 
 to be present at the greatest show on earth," and other 
 modest words about our great and near great. Aside from 
 those I mentioned Dascomb a '92 man was the only man 
 present of before our time. To all the others '99 needed no 
 introduction and when I pronounced the magic numeral 
 I fancied the mushroom captains and lieutenants present 
 who probably were thinking about Cav looked upon me as 
 a person to be accorded great respect. 
 
 211 
 
I suppose you would like for me to write something 
 about my experiences in the A. E. F. There is hardly space 
 in a letter like this to go into any detail. It was a wonderful 
 experience that I would not have missed for a great deal. 
 It was first of all an opportunity to render service to our 
 boys and whatever you did for them, they appreciated it so 
 much, imperfect though your efforts might be. I was as- 
 signed as athletic director to two camps of engineers, about 
 4000 men, railroad men engaged in carrying supplies and 
 troops between St. Nazaire and the front area, and construc- 
 tion engineers who built a big dock in the Loire River back 
 of our camp in record time. I was with these outfits from 
 the time I got to France until the camps began breaking up 
 about July 1. Our location was most unattractive, a verit- 
 able mudhole in the river bottom, or mudflats of the Loire, 
 with dikes to keep out the tides. Of course we had rain 
 practically every day all winter, too. However, we kept 
 boxing, wrestling and basketball, tugs-of-war, etc., going in- 
 doors and with fine weather after May 1 we had baseball 
 enough to make up for lost time. In the spring, April, 
 I had a ten days' leave and spent it in Lyon, Marseille, the 
 Riviera, from Nice to the Italian border, and also got up 
 into the Pyrenees at Canterets, as well as visiting the Roman 
 mines at Aries and Nimes and the ancient walled city of 
 Carcasonne, Cette, a Mediterranean seaport, with every na- 
 tionality represented along its quays, and Toulouse, the uni- 
 versity city of southern France. 
 
 At other times I had opportunity to see a good deal of 
 France and its people. Britanny, where I was located, is one 
 of the most historic and primitive parts of France. I found 
 many of the peasants there who cannot speak French but 
 still use the ancestral Gaelic, and when I was at Brest for 
 some ten days waiting sailing, I spent some time among 
 the Breton villages where newspapers are circulated partly 
 in French and partly in Gaelic. 
 
 On trips with teams I visited some of the chateaux of 
 the Loire valley, for example at Augers, the castle of the 
 
 212 
 
Dukes of Anjou. Of course, I saw a good deal of Paris as 
 I had to be there on entering and leaving France for several 
 days and spent a day at the Inter-allied games, Pershing Sta- 
 dium, near Paris. The comparison between the French civ- 
 ilization and our own was constantly before you and there 
 were companions in O. D. to compare notes with wherever 
 you went. I think I got to know the real American youth 
 and to admire him in O. D. as I never could in the U. S. A. 
 in a thousand years. The word "wonderful" is overworked 
 in describing the doughboy, but that is the only adjective 
 that seems to cover his case in one word. I presume his 
 trying experiences had brought out all that was in him. 
 Some failed, probably many failed according to our stand- 
 ards in America, but who can say that they are not more 
 men at that than they would have been if never tried. I 
 believe the most of them are. 
 
 I hadn't meant to write so long a letter, but I have felt 
 I owed you something in reply to your kind letter written 
 me in France which, under stress of work, I put off answer- 
 ing and never did answer till now. 
 
 Helen wishes to be remembered kindly to you and Mrs. 
 Beal and we hope to see something of you this winter. I 
 suppose the boys are pretty sizable now and growing apace 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 "Bill" Atwood. 
 
 i 86 Linden Street, Everett, Mass., November 10, 191 9. 
 Dear Kenneth : — 
 
 I see I am making your job hard when I should be 
 making it easy. Pardon. But you are asking something I 
 am unable to give you — my speech at the dinner. It was ex- 
 temporaneous, without previous preparation and forgotten 
 as soon as the dinner was over. If no stenographer was 
 present it is irretrievably lost — however, little loss at that. 
 
 213 
 
As for rny own doings they have been very routine. At 
 the time of the reunion I was finishing my year with a 
 jury, waived sitting in Fitchburg, two days of which I 
 stole in order to be with the boys. My vacation began at 
 once, but was soon interrupted by four weeks spent in the 
 criminal sitting at Pittsfield in July. From then till I went 
 to Springfield early in September I was in Hanover harden- 
 ing up. Every working day I spent on the handles of a 
 plough, horse scraper, or long handled spade regarding my 
 place so as to include the lot just north of the original one, 
 which I had purchased since the first layout. The treatment 
 proved a great- success, the result of which I am still enjoy- 
 ing. Of the boys whose names you mention I know noth- 
 ing. I have met Joe Hobbs on the street, Jim Barney and 
 Donnie at the Dartmouth Club enduring the returns from 
 the Colgate and Penn games, and had a letter from Hodg 
 from the arid plains of Arizona — that is all. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 
 N. P. 
 
 43 Algonquin Street, Dorchester, Mass., August 18, '19. 
 My dear Kenneth: — 
 
 It surely was a sad disappointment both to Mrs. H. and 
 myself not to be able to make Hanover for the vicennial. 
 Family sickness and business cares interfered. Since my re- 
 turn from service April first I have been quite busy trying 
 to remodel my practice and working hours so that I may 
 get a few leisure hours for home and recreation. The army 
 gave me time to reflect and, if nothing else, taught me the 
 one fact that I am now in the middle age class. This means 
 time to slow up a bit and shift into second speed. Conse- 
 quently I am now limiting practice, as far as possible, to 
 office work and consultations. I do no work on Saturday 
 or Sunday and spend most of these fishing or playing golf, 
 
 214 
 
true indications of advancing years* I am no Francis Oui- 
 met, but when I have an exceptionally good day I can finish 
 the game with the same ball with which I started. I have 
 killed no caddies and my vocabulary has been but slightly 
 extended. August is my vacation month and I am just home 
 for twenty-four hours to replenish my wardrobe and fish- 
 ing kit. For two weeks I have been among the hills of New 
 Hampshire and tomorrow I leave for Maine and black bass 
 fishing. Mrs. Hardwick is some angler and can now land 
 a four-pound bass without upsetting the boat. I have seen 
 none of the fellows for some time, but have had the pleas- 
 ure of talking over the 'phone once or twice with George 
 Clark and (Barney. I had a pleasant chat with Whittier on 
 the train when returning last winter on furlough from the 
 South. It does me good to see how the class hangs together 
 like one large family and hope to keep in closer touch with 
 so loyal a bunch in the future. Mrs. Hardwick joins me 
 in sending our very best wishes to you and all the '99ers. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 Everett V. Hardwick. 
 
 November i, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth : — 
 
 At the outset I want to say that I am ashamed not to 
 have written to you before. I have no excuse, therefore I 
 shall not attempt to make up one. I put your last letter in 
 my pocket determined to send an answer before another 
 week had passed. 
 
 You wanted to know what pleased me most at the re- 
 union. Well so many pleasant memories arise that I can 
 hardly say any one incident occupies the highest place. I 
 have thought many times how happy every one seemed and 
 how pleased every one was at the evidences of prosperity. 
 
 215 
 
God has certainly been good to '99. The reunions are 
 milestones in the life of '99. I cannot help thinking of the 
 many splendid fellows in our class and the fond affection 
 each fellow has for his classmate. It seems to be a 
 happy, large, loyal family, all working hard to make the 
 Class of '99 Dartmouth's banner class. 
 
 We certainly had a wonderful trip to Chicago and back 
 this summer. Each day as we journeyed through the dif- 
 ferent states, I found myself repeating "United States is a 
 wonderful country." We were impressed with the polite- 
 ness of all the people in all the cities and towns. Chicago 
 stands out as a wonderful and growing city, but I must con- 
 fess that Pennsylvania from Pittsburg to Philadelphia 
 seemed the most beautiful and prosperous state through 
 which we passed. 
 
 I was a little late in starting my wedding trip, but I 
 think even Buck, Pap and Pitt must take their hats off to me 
 because I started on a 3,000 mile journey with but seven 
 days' experience at the wheel of an auto. 
 
 Well, Kenneth, our house will soon be in a presentable 
 state and then we can have some little reunion at our house 
 with George G. Clark as best man. 
 
 Kindest regards to you and Mrs. Beal. I am 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Tim. 
 
 Contributed by an Anonymous Friend 
 
 Jim Barney, Secretary of the Pope Lumber Company, 
 Vice President of the Dorchester Board of Trade, Direc- 
 tor of the Hub Trust Company, Director of the Dorchester 
 Trust Company, Treasurer of a Golf Club, Secretary of a 
 Lumber Association or two, Chairman of the Red Cross 
 Fund Committee for Ward 20, Boston, and member of the 
 Executive Committee and Treasurer of the Class of '99, 
 
 216 
 
was this fall elected President of the Dartmouth Club of 
 Boston, to keep his mind occupied and keep him out of 
 mischief. In this capacity he has been running crowded 
 meetings Saturday afternoons at the Dartmouth Club for 
 the receipt of telegraphic reports of the football games. He, 
 with son Wendell, built a score board and everyone who 
 has watched the ball traveling back and forth across their 
 wooden gridiron, in reproduction of the dramatic games in 
 New York and Hanover, has had almost as much fun as if 
 at the real contests and a darn sight more enjoyment than 
 he got out of the Brown game. 
 
 Connecticut 
 
 From New Bedford to Hartford is the next move on 
 '99/s geographical checkerboard. After a friendly call on Al 
 Greenwood, such as Lute Oakes made last summer once 
 between trains, we drop south to New Haven, where Jack 
 Sanborn has welcomed Asakawa back to the classic shades 
 of Yale. Our Oriental pal worked so industriously at his- 
 torical research during his two years in Japan that he ac- 
 tually was unable once ro see his native home. But he 
 takes some pardonable pride in the fact that in his adopted 
 home of New England he is not likely to be forgotten ; for 
 Prexy Tucker in his recent autobiography refers appreci- 
 atively to Asakawa's masterly personal tribute spoken at 
 the Quindecennial dinner. 
 
 West Haven next gives a roof to Horace Sears week- 
 ends though his daily work calls him to New York. Finally 
 we close our Connecticut tour in the lower lefthand corner 
 of the state, at Stamford, where Hawley Chase stands faith- 
 fully by the Franklin Grammar School, and where Carl Mil- 
 ler moved his family on November 1st into a fine new home 
 at Revonah Manor. 
 
 Exit Connecticut. Enter Postman. 
 
 217 
 
588 Broadview Terrace, Hartford, Conn., Aug. 29, 1919. 
 Dear "K" :— 
 
 We did not expect to leave your letter of long ago until 
 this late date and, as it is, Mrs. G. is the only one who has 
 lived up to your request. 
 
 I am sending you her attempt at a description of the 
 play as you requested and then I am going home to her hop- 
 ing I may be able to make my peace with her for I have not 
 followed her explicit instructions to write you today a good 
 long letter. 
 
 Might just add that Lute Oakes was on here week be- 
 fore last on a flying trip to Vermont to see his folks. We 
 are always pleased to see him when he is East for we never 
 go West to call on him. 
 
 Wheeley Sears came into the office a few days ago. He 
 is about to change his work which will carry him to New 
 York. 
 
 Of course you understand this is not a letter for the 
 class report — merely an excuse for not writing one. 
 
 Yours very truly and with kindest regards from both 
 G's to both Beals. 
 
 Albert N. Greenwood. 
 
 Yale University, New Haven, Conn., October 20, 1919. 
 Dear Beal : — 
 
 You were good enough to write me that your "Report 
 would lack something essential if it had no word from me," 
 although you may possibly have said the same to all members 
 of the class, making every one's word in this Report essen- 
 tial. I fear I have nothing essential to say at this time. 
 When I say that after two years' unceasing labor of collect- 
 ing manuscript material in Japan, I am beginning to digest 
 and collate some of them for publication, I have said nearly 
 
 218 
 
ail I have to say about my special work. I am naturally in- 
 terested in that work but I dare not talk shop in a class re- 
 port. I published a paper embodying some of the results of 
 my first year's work in Japan, but that also is a matter too 
 special to interest any up-to-date classmates. Besides in- 
 vestigation and writing, I have to do some teaching along 
 original lines — original in subject-matter and original in its 
 appearance in University announcements, but this teaching 
 is as far from being essential as is my research, if by "essen- 
 tial" is meant the building of empires or the breaking of 
 leagues of nations. 
 
 If I seem a bit sarcastic, Mr. Secretary, I am merely 
 recording some of my reflections upon your word "essen- 
 tial." There are other reflections that I do not record here, 
 for you and I are well aware that a man who has been out 
 of college for twenty years is sometimes apt to ponder what 
 is essential in life and how essential his life is ; and also that 
 he would seldom express in print all of his thoughts on 
 these points, but prefer to let his deeds and life express it 
 for him, leaving alone all misunderstanding or lack of un- 
 derstanding in others. All his talking and laughing, all the 
 cheer and spice of his life, and even many of his more seri- 
 ous activities, are beside this deeper thought. 
 
 So I can write only about non-essentials of my life in 
 Japan, as I have about those of my life in America, if you 
 perhaps think that even they may be accepted for your Re- 
 port. 
 
 Leaving Yale at the time when America had gone into 
 the big war for two busy months, and was just beginning to 
 reveal her tremendous reserve power and to strike out with 
 amazing resourcefulness, — just when the Allies' condition 
 in Europe seemed gloomy and the general tone of the war 
 was becoming more exciting than ever before, — I went to 
 the people in the far Orient that were curious about the 
 war but not interested, and from them, again, I turned to 
 their ancient documents and to the quiet monasteries and 
 shrines that kept them in the seclusion of their dark store- 
 
 219 
 
houses. But, Beal, what about the unity of this sentence? 
 Isn't it German to put in so much in one sentence and make 
 it so confused? Ah, my friend, I intended to write up a 
 long story of my work on original sources, but already stum- 
 ble against the first sentence, and am tired of the job ; I give 
 it up unfinished and never to be finished. I have brought 
 back a great lot of "stuff" with me, and that is enough. If 
 you or any of my class cares to see what I have done, I 
 shall be glad to show it to him in my rooms and tell him. all 
 about the singular experiences I had over there while getting 
 this thing. As for writing about those experiences, I should 
 say they were too modern to interest me as a student of his- 
 tory. What I have got is the main thing; how I got it is 
 not essential. 
 
 Yours always for '99, 
 
 K. AsakawA. 
 
 146 Water Street, New Haven, Conn., November 11, '19. 
 My dear Kenneth : — 
 
 Your several letters and postals received and duly laid 
 aside with firm intentions of promptly attending to same. 
 
 They say that a busy man always has time to attend to 
 anything that comes along. Therefore it must be that I 
 have nothing to do for it is mighty hard work for me to find 
 time for personal business. 
 
 I have most of my evenings at home, but after spending 
 all day back and forth from office to work and different jobs 
 I seldom feel like writing letters at home. 
 
 I can answer one or two of the questions contained in 
 your letter of October 13 and that is about all. 
 
 Sears is working somewhere in New York and still liv- 
 ing at West Haven, Conn., coming home each week-end. 
 Haven't seen Sears in four months, but above comes from 
 Mrs. Sears through Mrs. Sanborn. 
 
 220 
 
Asakawa has returned from Japan and now has an of- 
 fice in Yale Library, but I have not been fortunate enough 
 to see him. 
 
 Saw "Cav" for about one minute between the halves 
 of the B. C.-Yale Game a few weeks ago, but Cav was too 
 busy laying down the law to his team to pay much attention 
 to me. In fact I don't believe he knew who it was that greet- 
 ed him. 
 
 Have little to report of myself. Am still Superinten- 
 dent of Construction, N. H. R. R. Think I am making good 
 as I have held job several years and received three raises 
 during that time, each one being voluntary on part of road. 
 
 Have some big jobs under way. The largest is Cedar 
 Hill Freight Yards with a capacity of 11,000 cars or more. 
 
 Sorry indeed that I could not attend the grand reunion 
 at Hanover and I can assure you that I know I missed a 
 mighty fine time. 
 
 Dartmouth men are numerous in New Haven and I 
 meet them often. Two weeks ago tonight I met Leonard 
 Tuttle 1900 at a Masonic gathering. Had not seen him be- 
 fore in nineteen years. 
 
 No additions to family and all of the old family are 
 very well. 
 
 This is not much of a letter so you might consider it 
 more as a personal note ai.J forget to print any of it. 
 Best regards to all 'o^ers, 
 
 John L. Sanborn. 
 
 404 Union Ave,, West Haven, Conn,, August 5, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth : — 
 
 It's a midsummer night's rain; — the folks away and I 
 have just finished pressing my pants with the Missus' elec- 
 tric iron, because I must wear them in the morning and they 
 
 221 
 
were a sight to behold when I reached the house, for the 
 rain is no respecter of clothing. 
 
 So here goes for a single line spaced answer to your 
 circular letter of the 28th ult. Just keep up that typed stuff, 
 K, — and most of us will get what you are driving at. Some 
 of those holograph inquiries of George's went away over my 
 head so I gave him some answer and usually got a line of 
 thanks. 
 
 I enclose one of the last letters officially written, by 
 George to me. It refers to the map Gerry requested. You 
 see I was given the option of reproducing the two hemis- 
 pheres as shown on the newspaper clipping, or reproducing 
 an enlarged copy of Mercator's Chart of the world. As an 
 alternate, I submitted that portion of our war torn earth 
 north of the equator, making a map about seven feet by 
 four feet, and made in true railroad style. That is, the 
 geographical points Gerry wanted to point out were dis- 
 tinguishable to all present, in whatever condition, color or 
 previous condition of servitude. The outlines were % inch 
 wide in black ink on white background. It was fearfully 
 and wonderfully made. It was intended to interest and en- 
 tertain, not to instruct. 
 
 It was submitted to Gerry in pencil and inked under 
 his direction. Just as we were about to mount it on a 
 drafting board, Gerry thought that Peddy might like to' al- 
 lude to Czecho-Slovia and regions tributary thereto, so the 
 last pencil lines were put on to include the latest of Europe's 
 FREE STATES. I inked in those lines, giving them about 
 the same prominence as the others. 
 
 Now comes Peddy and finds that DANZIG cannot be 
 properly located because jBill's map is inaccurate. I must 
 admit that there wasn't much left of the Baltic after France 
 had been given some prominence and Germany had been 
 backed practically off the map. The water had about been 
 squeezed from the Atlantic and the latitude of Boston was 
 that of London. 
 
 222 
 
George has written me for the map but I don't know 
 where it is. I left before the dinner was finished to catch 
 the early train for New Haven. Captain Watson says he 
 stowed the standards and board in Robinson Hall and there 
 was no map then on the board. It seemed to fill the bill 
 as piece d'art '99. 
 
 What became of Buck? That question has caused me 
 some anxiety. We stretched the U. S. A. to proper width 
 on the map to show Buck's home town ; possibly the map 
 made him homesick. 
 
 Recently saw Dickey at Springfield and Tom Whittier 
 in New York. Both expressed keen regret that they could 
 not attend. 
 
 The above is my limit for this time. The fellows are 
 all back of you, so go to it. If I couldn't squirm out of it, 
 I'd make you another world map if the request came. 
 (Which he did ! K.B.) 
 
 Sincerely and fraternally yours, 
 
 Horace H. Sears. 
 
 Atlantic Square, Stamford, Conn., September 16, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth : — 
 
 Your fine letter seemed to comprehend the entire situa- 
 tion in regard to '99-past-present and future. Would that 
 I had the gift of the poet, or even that of a newspaper cor- 
 respondent, so that I might properly express the reactions 
 which our recent reunion created. 
 
 Surely we are younger, happier, wiser and more alive 
 because we were privileged to be together for those won- 
 derful three days. It seemed to me that all our classmates 
 were getting their full stride way up in front in the race for 
 the best the world has to offer. It has been said that it 
 is not in mortals to command success, but we may deserve 
 
 223 
 
it. What an inspiration for the optimistic side of our na- 
 tures to see this practical demonstration of a group of men 
 who not only deserved success, hut who also had the ability 
 to command it. 
 
 Of course my pleasure was doubled because of Mrs. 
 Miller's enjoyment. It was her first opportunity to attend 
 a reunion, but she is not likely to miss another. Her letter 
 will allow me to cut mine short, for we must not obstruct 
 the mails. 
 
 The Class seemed younger to me in its vitality and life 
 than at our last reunion — richer in experience. The thing 
 which I shall remember longest, was the ease and delight 
 with which we jumped over the years between, and the thrill 
 of friendship which was felt in meeting again each mem- 
 ber of the class. 
 
 Our latch string will be hung from our new home at 
 Revonah Manor, Stamford, after November first and we 
 want you, dear Secretary, and every member of the class to 
 pull it whenever within reach. 
 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 Charles O. Miller, Jr. 
 
 Foot note. — I wish to pay a tribute to friend George, 
 our illustrious former Secretary, who set a standard which 
 I am sure you enjoyed as much as the rest of us. We are 
 indeed doubly fortunate — yes, four times over — in having 
 Barstow,' Donney, Georgie and 'you. 
 
 Stamford, Conn. 
 Dear Kenneth : — 
 
 Now that your address is Melrose I cannot delay writ- 
 ing longer. Melrose is a mellifluous sounding name. I 
 have often wished I lived around Boston. 
 
 Think every one knows how I enjoyed the reunion and 
 I find that the reunion has made me just seven years and six 
 
 224 
 
months younger. The tonic effect of Buck and Pap, the 
 sedative potion of Peddy Miller and ,Bill Hutch, and the re- 
 vitalizing power of Cav, all contributed to the renewal of 
 my youth. I only wish I could have contributed as much. 
 Should I continue I would run into ecstatic or esoteric 
 dribble so must stop in season. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Hawley. 
 
 New York 
 
 Just northwest of the little southwest jog of Connecti- 
 cut where we left Stamford, but across in New York and 
 a bit east of the Hudson, is Charles Risley's Real Estate 
 Office in Pleasantville. A short ride below, in the vast me- 
 tropolis of New York City we come upon a pepper sprink- 
 ling of '99, — enough to season and spice. There are the 
 homes of Frank Surrey and Percy Drake, a couple of blocks 
 apart on Riverside Drive, and the offices of Pap and Luke 
 and Tom Whittier not far separated on Broadway, with 
 Joe Gannon in his new offices, — J. W. G. Inc., at 120 Fifth 
 Avenue, Bill Eaton on Fourth Avenue, and Henry Berger, 
 Ikey Leavitt, and Rodney Sanborn on East 39th Street, Fort 
 Washington Avenue, and West 85th Street, respectively, 
 and since November there are also Horace Sears at 89 
 Liberty Street and Sam Smith in the Park Row Building. 
 
 Up the Hudson now to Wesley Jordan's home in Bea- 
 con, southwest of Albany, and across state westward to 
 Phil Winchester's in Watertown, just east of Lake Onta- 
 rio. Follow the Lake around to Rochester on its southern 
 side and shake hands with Ed Nye before you drop way 
 south of Buffalo near the Pennsylvania line and ask Kit 
 Carson how real estate booms in Randolph. 
 
 New York, your case is complete. 
 
 225 
 
Call Pennsylvania ! But read these letters first. 
 
 50 Union Square, New York, September 5, 1919. 
 Dear "K. Beal" :— 
 
 Your "black hand" post card brought me up sharply. 
 First off I want to say "Here's How ?" to the new Secretary, 
 and also congratulations to '99 on their selection. 
 
 Your original communication was properly placed for 
 an early reply, but the many things in which I am connected 
 together with a Western business trip, plus Mrs. Drake and 
 I spending a small portion of the summer in New England 
 interfered with my most excellent intentions, as you are 
 aware. 
 
 I am indeed sorry I can't write you a lot of interesting 
 things for a class report; however, rather content myself 
 reading of the wonderful strides made by the other men ot 
 '99. These are just a few personal lines to you wishing you 
 every success. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 
 Percy. 
 
 593 Riverside Drive, New York City, September 10, 1919. 
 My dear "K" :— 
 
 I'm answering the roll call again. Congratulation on 
 your elevation to your high office. You surely have some 
 standards set for you. 
 
 The "simple facts" about myself are quickly told. Saw 
 a bunch of the fellows at the New York dinner — "the big- 
 gest Dartmouth dinner ever held outside of Hanover." 
 Spent a few very pleasant hours in Seattle last month with 
 Dr. and Mrs. Woodward and one of their fine boys. Useless 
 to say "Bones" is keeping up the traditions of Dartmouth 
 and '99. 
 
 I am now doing administrative work in the same old 
 place — the Morris High School. We have had another 
 
 226 
 
school lopped off of us, so can no longer claim to be the 
 largest high school in the city. We are, however, still big 
 enough to require two of us acting as assistant principals. 
 That is not what they call us, but they let us do the work. 
 I'm looking forward to that report of the Vicennial and 
 will record my "invincible resolution" to spend a whole sum- 
 mer at the "Quarter Century Love-Fest" — if you'll have it 
 at the right time. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 F. M. Surrey. 
 
 149 Broadway, New York, October 18, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth : — 
 
 You have probably concluded that I am a very poor 
 correspondent. I am indeed. However, if I had had any- 
 thing substantial or interesting to communicate covering 
 my observations at Hanover in June, I should have written 
 you in response to your first communication. 
 
 The fact is I did not arrive till Saturday afternoon and 
 I left on Sunday morning. This, I regret, was necessary; 
 but I at least had an opportunity to meet most of those who 
 were in attendance on account of the soiree at Jim's on Sat- 
 urday evening. 
 
 Your suggestion of an informal gathering of '99 men 
 here is interesting ; but I am satisfied from experience in the 
 past that such a gathering would result in getting together 
 about two men. It is next to impossible to get men together 
 in this town. 
 
 I am sorry that I have to write so meagerly, for I sym- 
 pathize thoroughly with the secretary's work. We iall 
 should turn to and help you, Kenneth; but you can under- 
 stand, from what I have written that I really had no oppor- 
 tunity of gathering anything to contribute. 
 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 Lucius E. Varney. 
 
 227 
 
220 Fifth Avenue, New York, December 2, 19 19. 
 Dear Kenneth : — 
 
 Your request for a letter deserves better co-operation 
 than this tardy response. 
 
 No special incidents stand out in retrospection of my 
 experience as the Field Marshal during the twentieth re- 
 union. 
 
 The practice of "falling in" and marching acquired in 
 previous reunions probably accounted for the readiness with 
 which our formations were made and the faithful partici- 
 pation in the program of the executive committee made my 
 task an easy one. 
 
 From the time I was invested with those decorative 
 symbols of office, the brass-knobbed baton and beaded silk- 
 en cord or sash, and kissed on both cheeks by the virgin lips 
 of George Clark, I took my orders from him. My instruc- 
 tions were explicitly written down and verbal admonitions 
 given regarding their execution. 
 
 The only thing he did not post me about was the un- 
 derstudy job for Buck Burns, suddenly wished upon me at 
 our war experience dinner. 
 
 The most notable event on our program, and the one 
 which added most to the prestige of Ninety-nine for original 
 and epoch-making innovations, was the Sunday night enter- 
 tainment in Robinson Hall. That not only established a 
 precedent for filling a gap in the usual Commencement pro- 
 gram and gave a fine entertainment to the class and its 
 friends among the alumni and faculty, but proved that when 
 it comes to class talent and originality Ninety-nine continues 
 to lead. 
 
 We had a good class delegation at the sesqui-centennial 
 in October, most of which was domiciled at Newton Inn. 
 George Clark was there, but he didn't give me any orders at 
 that time, and Mrs. Gannon didn't have to take any orders 
 from me to pin my Marshal's sash on "just so" every time 
 I changed my coat. 
 
 228 
 
I am iooking forward to the next class report, and I 
 am sure that you will prove a worthy successor to your il- 
 lustrious and efficient predecessors in the secretary's chair. 
 With best wishes for your success and the hope that it 
 may be enhanced by the co-operation owed to you by the 
 men of Ninety-nine, 
 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 Jos. W. Gannon. 
 
 New York, November i, 1919. 
 My dear Beal : — 
 
 I am very sorry that I couldn't really attend the reunion. 
 I happened to be among those present for a day or two, 
 but the circumstances were such, and I had so many other 
 things which I had to attend to, that I simply had to pass 
 up all idea of participation, needless to say to my very 
 great regret. What I was able to see of the reunion im- 
 pressed me very deeply as being very delightful in every 
 way. 
 
 I am now engaged in an attempt to study business 
 methods and practice. Hitherto my work has always been 
 almost entirely on the writing end of newspapers, and I 
 am trying to correct that somewhat one-sided development 
 so far as is possible at this late date. But please do not con- 
 sider me at all as having retired from journalism. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 W. F. Eaton. 
 
 New York City, October 16, 19 19. 
 Dear K :— 
 
 You win, I'll just have to answer such a fervid appeal, 
 though I have little to write. 
 
 229 
 
We sure had a fine time at the Reunion. My family 
 are talking about it yet and making plans for the next one. 
 
 I never see any of our New York bunch except at the 
 Annual Dartmouth Dinner. 
 
 Have finally got a new Dodge and Ronald is breaking it 
 in for me. | Goes fine and dandy, wouldn't swap for P. Win- 
 chester's Hudson or Hoppy's Reo, or Willie Wardle's 
 Chandler. 
 
 What feature of the Reunion impressed me the most? 
 
 Mrs. Pitt Drew flocking around asking every one in 
 sight or hearing "Has any one here seen Pitt?" 
 
 I think that was the one persistent, consistent and in- 
 sistent feature of the whole affair. 
 
 Also it was mighty good to see "Old Hoss" back with 
 us with the same old smile (but a little less hair) as ever. 
 "Hoss" and "Cush" were a reunion all by themselves. 
 
 I threatened to lick Cush before he left Hanover and 
 the old skunk snuk out in the night and didn't give me a 
 chance. 
 
 That trip and feed at the Country Club was sure a nice 
 feature. Hope we can repeat next time. 
 
 Long Jim's dugout is the best architectural feature of 
 Hanover. If you doubt my word ask Pap Abbott, also ask 
 him who stole his glassware right in the middle of his 
 speech. I hope the Boston bunch get together and have 
 another show. That was a mighty fine idea, and well carried 
 out. No other class had anything that could touch that 
 within a mile. 
 
 Things are going about as ever with me. 
 
 Shot on two New York State Teams this summer and 
 did fairly well for an old chap. Made one score of ninety-six 
 out of a possible one hundred at the iooo yard range. So 
 you will know by that that my eyes have not gone entirely 
 bad as yet. Am still in State Guard (7th Regiment) and 
 serve as Supply Sergeant and look out for the shooting end 
 of the game for my Company. 
 
 230 
 
I incidentally extract a few teeth, etc., to keep the pot 
 boiling. Have not broken the record ascribed to me by 
 Pap Abbott of iooo teeth in one hour and five minutes. 
 
 He also claims I made the auto trip from New York to 
 Hanover in one and one-half hours. 
 
 I really think that would be too fast to be recorded as 
 an official record. 
 
 Hope next time we have more sing-song spells around 
 headquarters, same as we had five years ago. 
 
 Also hope we can get Buck Burns to furnish and per- 
 sonally supervise a corps of waiters for our class dinner. 
 
 Ronald is working hard in school and getting along 
 very well. 
 
 Say, K, don't you think that whoever is the first grand- 
 dad in our class should be class-ically ostracized? Gosh, 
 that makes me feel old ; hope I am not the victim. 
 
 Well here's How? to all the boys, — wives and kiddies 
 of '99. May we all meet again in 1924. 
 
 As ever, 
 
 Ike. 
 
 Warren, Mass., December 17, 19 19. 
 Dear Kenneth : — 
 
 Your letters have been following me around and I 
 know that I should have answered them before. 
 
 Since I returned from the West I have been working 
 on the valuation of industrial plants. My headquarters are 
 in New York City, but I am on the road most of the time and 
 only get into New York for a day or two at a time. 
 
 It was a great treat for me that I had the opportunity 
 to be at Hanover at the last reunion as that was the first 
 real '99 reunion that I have ever been able to attend. 
 
 231 
 
My New York address is Room 2233, Park Row Build- 
 ing and I still keep my permanent address at 124 State 
 Street, Windsor, Vt. 
 
 Wishing you and -all the boys in and around Boston a 
 Merry Christmas, I remain 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 S. J. Smith. 
 
 303 Ten Eyck St., Watertown, N. Y., October 5, 1919. 
 Dear "K" :— 
 
 I have no excuses to offer, so I'll not attempt it, except 
 to offer you my apologies for not having sooner answered 
 your letter of July 28. 
 
 First, I am sending you under separate cover a set 
 of the pictures I took at Reunion, complete except for the 
 following numbers : 
 
 19, the class on Wilson steps, which did not pan out ; 
 21 and 22, the class and ladies in front of Dartmouth, for 
 the same reason; 42, which is of the bleachers at the Cor- 
 nell-Dartmouth ball game and which I thought would be un- 
 interesting; 43, which is of activities of one of the other 
 reuning classes ; 44, which is another shot at Cav and not 
 so good as the one I am sending, No. 45. 
 
 Possibly some of these pictures may be of interest for 
 the report, if it is not too late, and if there are any of them 
 that are not good prints for reproducing, such as No. 40, 
 and which you wish to use for that purpose, let me know and 
 I will send others. Sorry about 40, but did not notice till 
 just now that it was poor. And the poor place in the print 
 just happened to hit Mrs. W. I have put a few words on 
 the back of each print that will at least help you to identify 
 the date on which each was taken, but I am not much of a 
 title writer. Hope there are a few that you think will prove 
 of interest, but I am sorry that Paul Osgood got lost on the 
 
 232 
 
Way to Hanover, for had he been there you would have had 
 more pictures to choose from. N. P. Brown was shooting 
 a camera round more or less. Possibly he can add a few 
 to those I am sending. Some time in July, I think it was, 
 I sent a full set of prints to George Clark, and he was to 
 start them on the rounds of the class so that any might order 
 prints should they so desire, but I have heard nothing from 
 him in that direction, so think he must have filed them away 
 in his archives. However, if any want them they can have 
 them by simply standing the cost of printing, a nickle apiece. 
 The set I am sending you are all paid for. I received my 
 pay for them at Hanover last June ! 
 
 Now as to the REUNION. It was one of the most en- 
 joyable trips we have ever had, including the 717 mile auto 
 trip (going and coming), with a real objective. Not an in- 
 cident to mar the whole journey till we were within ten 
 miles of home when a flivver tried for a whirl out of us by 
 making intimate relations with our left rear mud guard and 
 hub cap when they came at us on a cross road from our 
 left. Very little damage to us, but you should have seen 
 the flivver! No personal injuries, however. And it sure 
 did me good to meet the good old friends of '99 ! And 
 Hanover was at her best those days we spent in Arcady. 
 To me personally one of the most enjoyable events was the 
 opportunity of meeting my old roommate Joy, for this was 
 our first meeting since 1900. So our little reuning in the 
 midst of THE reunion had an added pleasure, especially 
 since we were at the same time able to see him and his at 
 their home in the June, so near at hand. To me the great- 
 est change appeared to be in Cav, for his war experiences 
 had brought out a side of his character that I believe very 
 few of us had realized before was in him. He has shown 
 us a deeper, more serious vein than we ever realized was 
 his, and he now appears a better, deeper man than when 
 we saw him last. We know Cav now. Many of us didn't 
 before. Pick out the thing that I will remember longest? 
 Impossible; for the impression brought away is just one 
 
 233 
 
composite remembrance of a most pleasant and profitable 
 journey and associations for those brief days with the fel- 
 lows of the best class of dear old Dartmouth. The funniest 
 thing was Bob Johnston. How could it be otherwise ? But 
 it would have been funnier had Hoskins taken a hand with 
 him as in the days of old. But that appears to be impos- 
 sible, with the changes that time has wrought in Hos, even 
 to his entire loss of hair where once it was wont to grow 
 so luxuriantly. Compare the picture of 1895 with that, of 
 191 9, just to see the change. 
 
 And George Clark? There's only one George, and 
 the class of '99 is his family. We have always been blessed 
 with mighty good secretaries, but George has done more 
 than anybody in holding '99 together as a class. And his 
 ways are so quiet that none of us fully realize the amount 
 of time, energy, and money too, that he has freely given of 
 to make '99 what she has been since graduation. We all 
 owe him more than we can ever express! 
 
 The pictures taken on Tuesday at Wilson Hall and at 
 Dartmouth Hall were made by White of Hanover and Ar- 
 thur H. Woodman of Manchester respectively, and I under- 
 stood that George was looking after the matter. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 "P." Winchester. 
 
 Rochester, N. Y., November 9, 1919. 
 My dear Beal: — 
 
 I am very sorry you have had to send me so many re- 
 minders. You know farmers are not letter writers and I 
 am a regular farmer. I have been very busy all season. 
 I might narrate some of my activities, but they probably 
 would not interest. My farm requires much of my time 
 and attention during the summer. During the winter I de- 
 vote most of my time to insurance. The arrangement seems 
 
 234 
 
to be working out very well and the farm certainly gives me 
 health and happiness. 
 
 I would plead the farm as my excuse for not attending 
 the reunion did I not know that business is no excuse. How- 
 ever, few of you know a farmer's activities in planting time 
 in a backward season. 
 
 Sometime when '99 gets together I will be there. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 Edward L. Nye. 
 
 Pennsylvania 
 
 From Randolph, N. Y., it is but a step across the line 
 to the northwest corner of Pennsylvania on Lake Erie. Here 
 Arthur Brown has moved to Erie. Southward across the 
 state we come to Pittsburgh, whose billowing clouds of 
 smoke following the veering impulse of the wind some- 
 times blow down over Bill Hutchinson's fields and crops 
 in Cecil, twelve miles southwest of the city, or, oftener, 
 drift and hang above Fred Crolius as he figures and in- 
 vestigates for the Carnegie Steel Company in Munhall 
 but five miles east of Pittsburgh. 
 
 An eastward sweep the whole width of William Penn's 
 ancient grant and Dr. Bonney and Dr. Lane leave their pa- 
 tients for a few minutes to assure us that the health of 
 the citizens and the fame of '99 are safe in Philadelphia. 
 
 Munhall, Pa., August 5, 1919. 
 My dear "Ken":— 
 
 I congratulate the class on its selection of the proper 
 shoulders, irrespective of width, to carry the burden. You've 
 great courage to undertake the task so ably handled by 
 George, but you will have the wonderful advantage of 
 merely carrying on a well built organization. We owe 
 
 235 
 
George Clark a lasting debt and should not be slow in 
 acknowledging it. 
 
 Words are wasted in expressing regrets at missing 
 all you boys at Hanover this June. I had counted on that 
 as one bright spot among my reminiscences; just to have 
 absorbed some degree of those ''tons of enthusiasm" for 
 which '99 was and is and always will be famous, would 
 have lightened the load for years to come. But we are 
 workers first and players last, and those of us who played 
 the most earliest must work the more later, and I am of 
 that category, as you perhaps know. 
 
 While you were playing among the old scenes, my 
 mind constantly reverted, sub-consciously perhaps, to our 
 first "Salt Rush" when, as freshmen, we took our first 
 fall out of the Sophs, headed by John Eckstorm, "Indian" 
 McAndrew, et als; to our amusing classes in French with 
 Johnny Roe; to our debate in "Old Dartmouth" Hall, with 
 the alumni who wished to maintain the Three Cornered 
 League even though Dartmouth had outgrown it, to our vic- 
 tories in football and baseball ; to our pleasantest of all 
 instructive sessions with Professor Richardson, and even 
 now I see "Hoss" and "Bob" with their high boots saga- 
 ciously recounting and remarking history; and so I could 
 go on drawing pictures indefinitely. 
 
 Much as I had hoped to make the trip, I found it im- 
 possible to coincide what must be done, with what we 
 would like to do. Steel is an exacting business. 
 
 Personally, nothing much to report out of the usual, 
 save that my responsibilities have been measurably in- 
 creased, and at the same time, opportunities for more work, 
 — we are carrying through investigations which have for 
 their ultimate aim the lessening of manual labor, or con- 
 versely, an increased output per unit of labor involved, — 
 which all means a little toward the Wilson millennium of 
 a better world to live in, and to work in, and judging from 
 the wave of Bolshevism, there's nothing to the future 
 but work. 
 
 236 
 
Am looking forward with enthusiasm to your coming 
 year book, always a welcome oasis in my year, especially 
 this year, when it will be filled with the wonderful achieve- 
 ments through a vital period in all our lives. 
 Be^st wishes for your maiden effort, 
 
 Cordially, 
 Frederick J. Crolius, 
 
 Steam Engineer. 
 
 1 1 17 Spruce Street, Philadelphia, Pa., October 28, 1919. 
 Dear Beal: — 
 
 With this letter please accept my apology for delaying 
 so long in replying to yours of July 28th. The "follow-up" 
 cards were also duly received. I mislaid the first card 
 together with your letter and had to write to George Clark 
 to get your address. Perhaps one reason for not writing 
 sooner is that I haven't anything of importance to say. It 
 is the same old daily routine of working at least twelve 
 hours out of the twenty- four, six days out of the week — 
 some different from the six-hour five-day a week plan that 
 the coal miners are insisting upon. Last summer I had 
 only one week's vacation, although I did get a week in 
 May, which helped out a great deal, as I was very tired 
 after completing my school work. 
 
 The year 1924 is still some distance away, but it is 
 now my intention to make up for what I lost in the year 
 1919 by going to the Quarter Century Anniversary. 
 I have been back to Hanover only once in the twenty 
 years since the Class of ^99 was graduated; consequently, 
 feel I could enjoy a visit there just a little better than those 
 who have made frequent visits. There is a young fellow 
 in my class at Jefferson this year who was graduated from 
 Dartmouth in 191 7 and afterward took two years in the 
 medical school, entering here this year as a Junior. In 
 
 237 
 
conversation with him the other day, he remarked he was 
 only two years old when I was graduated. It sort of 
 makes one feel like a relic to hear such a remark. 
 
 With regard to the '99 men I have not seen anything 
 of Pete Lane for a year nor of Freem Sewall for several 
 years. Sewall, however, is back at his home in Bridgeton, 
 N. J. No doubt you met him at the Reunion last June. 
 
 Your position as secretary is not altogether an en- 
 viable one, particularly when you have to send three or 
 four reminders to some of the fellows like myself before 
 you get a reply. However, the laggards will probably 
 get just as much pleasure from reading your Class Report 
 as those who answered your letter promptly. When George 
 Clark was secretary, he and I became quite intimate. He 
 passed through Philadelphia some two or three years ago 
 and telephoned me from Broad Street Station. It was a 
 great disappointment he did not have time to stop for at 
 least a couple of hours. 
 
 Well, here is hoping that you may get through the 
 job easily and give us all some interesting reading. 
 
 With kindest regards, believe me, 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 Charles W. Bonney. 
 
 New Jersey 
 
 By this time some of the fellows we left in their New 
 York offices are back home. And hurrying out by the 
 Erie R. R. we come, eight miles west of Hoboken, to Joe 
 Hartley, now doing clerical work in Arlington, N. J., while 
 eight miles farther west and a little north, Joe Gannon is 
 just entering his Montclair home. Traveling on the C. R. 
 of N. J. twice as far to the southwest of Jersey City as 
 Joe went on his homeward trip to Montclair, Pap has 
 reached his supper table in Plainfield. 
 
 238 
 
Southward in central New Jersey a red glare in the 
 skies startles us. It proves to be the artillery hall and 
 barracks of the Princeton University Field Artillery R. C. 
 T. G. blazing fiercely despite a driving rain while Jerry and 
 the other Profs and the whole student body stand watching. 
 Too bad to interrupt Jerry's novel that way! 
 
 One more move and we reach the bottom of New 
 Jersey, where Freem Sewall, back in Bridgeton, has dropped 
 the military "Major" for the civilian "Doctor." 
 
 There's that postman, right on time again. 
 
 November 17, 1919. 
 Dear George: — 
 
 You can kick me for not writing next time you see 
 me. My present address is 423 Elm Street, Arlington, N. 
 J. Occupation, clerk — not married and still happy. 
 
 Kindly give my regards to Beal. I have mislaid his 
 address. If I can make Boston during the holidays will 
 drop in and see you. 
 
 Sincerely yours, ' 
 Joseph H. Hartley. 
 
 25 Broad Street, New York, August 7, 1919. 
 My dear "K"l— 
 
 I can see another live wire for a secretary. "Atta 
 boy", give the fellows a "Dempsey" right at the start and 
 get them writing you before the beer gets flat. There is 
 so much I could say that a special edition of a report on 
 my own musings might be given "Mussie." I want to 
 go on record, "K," and say that if there is a heaven on 
 earth it was the time in Hanover on our 20th Reunion. 
 I'll tell the world that it was a continuous merry-go-round 
 with a brass ring for every man. 
 
 239 
 
There have been changes in some of the fellows but 
 for the most part these changes are for the better, and 
 where perhaps now and then you might observe a dis- 
 appointing nature, it is in my opinion only on the surface. 
 Personally, I am one of those brainless kind of men who 
 cannot possibly be awed by the seriousness of life and when 
 I work it is only with the idea of the big play afterwards. 
 Right here let me throw in a wee bit of criticism of our 
 last reunion and a mild suggestion for the future. 
 
 Stone steps to sit upon and a narrow front door 
 porch surrounded by air on three sides and a high roof 
 is not very soul-inspiring. To get right down for a heart- 
 to-heart talk with the fellows and really uncover what the 
 man has developed in twenty years, it requires a room 
 with four walls, a bench or chair to sit upon and with free 
 spitting and smoking acquaintance with the floor. A place 
 where the fellows are free to talk out and know that what 
 is said or sung or told is for the men of '99 as they were 
 twenty years ago. I love the ladies and I love to have 
 them around but not to have a cellar or garret of some 
 kind marked "Men only" for a headquarters for '99 is a 
 big omission. 
 
 An instance of this was when ten or a dozen of the 
 fellows gathered in our room Monday afternoon, osten- 
 sibly to christen Lena. We sat on the floor and it was 
 then that we really reuned. We sang, told stories and 
 kidded one another to our heart's content. We were boys 
 again, unmarried and carefree. It was at this little im- 
 promptu gathering that I began to really know "Jim Rich." 
 Let me say and I'll tell the world so that class spirit and 
 class everything are all embodied in Jim. His position is 
 such that he might very easily have ducked many things 
 that he did not and have been excused for it. But no, Jim 
 was right there and adding to the merriment of all gather- 
 ings. It is to Jim then that I give my vote for contributing 
 to the social success of our days together. 
 
 240 
 
More close hums and shoulder to shoulder times sur- 
 rounded by cobwebs and dirt, if necessary, but more of 
 them and let the ladies be a pleasing feature of the reunion 
 and not the whole show. 
 
 I want to mention also Jim Walker. I never knew 
 Jim well in college, but I'll tell the world that if they grow 
 finer men than Jim Walker, I don't know it. Here's how, 
 Jim. As for "Buck," well, I could shout forty pages on 
 him. We just married one another from the day we left 
 New York until we rode out Tuesday morning. Dartmouth 
 College is Puck to me and Buck is Dartmouth. He has not 
 changed or never will. His actions at our banquet were 
 the funniest piece of comedy I hope to see off the stage. 
 
 My business address now is care Paine, Webber & 
 Company, 25 Broad Street, New York City. I have been 
 here now for four months and have left O. J. Brand & 
 Company, where I was for eight years. It is the same line 
 of business but quite an advancement in all ways for me. 
 
 I am going to quit, "K," and am leaving George Clark 
 to the last to tell the world that here is a man that some 
 day will be the biggest organizer in the country. Hats off 
 every man of '99 to George and let every man get down 
 on his knees and thank the Lord first that he is a Dart- 
 mouth man, second that he is in the Class of '99, and third 
 that he knows George Clark. 
 
 Kindly let me hear from you if there is anything I 
 can do to help you out in your strenuous work for the class. 
 
 With best regards, I am 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 "Pap." 
 
 Princeton, N. J., November 3, 1919. 
 Dear Ken: — 
 
 November is late to record the impressions of June; 
 but the impressions of the Vicennial are still fresh and 
 
 241 
 
vivid in my mind. First of all, I wish to say that I had 
 a quite remarkably good time all the way through, except 
 on the evening of the dinner. That, however, is not so 
 important as the impression I got of my classmates. More 
 than ever before, I think, I rejoiced in belonging to so 
 fine a body of men in the corporate way in which we do 
 belong together. Almost every man I met — and I think 
 I talked with nearly everyone — seemed to me to have gone 
 on through twenty years developing the best that was in him. 
 There they were, in the full vigor of what I suppose we 
 must now admit to be middle age, and grown up though 
 not grown old. Even the happiest optimist could not have 
 foretold that they would have accomplished so much in so 
 many lines of work or would have become so interesting as 
 representatives of their various callings. I don't mean that 
 I found the class a galaxy of all the talents, but I did re- 
 joice in the solid achievement which it represented. Badly 
 as we were educated in many respects, we must have got 
 a good deal that was valuable during our four years at 
 Hanover. At any rate, it is clear that our natural abilities 
 were not stunted by our college course, for there has been 
 growth all along the line and all through the years. 
 
 One other thing. The committees of arrangement 
 had done their work in a way that was beyond all praise. 
 I know that everybody felt that. And of course the king 
 pin was George Clark, to whom we owe a tremendous 
 debt for his loyalty and labor. I know that nobody was 
 more sorry than you that he refused to go on as secretary, 
 but I am sure that everybody is going to give you the 
 same support that he commanded. We thank you in ad- 
 vance, as the T. B. M. sometimes so exasperatingly remarks. 
 
 I am sorry I couldn't see you at the Sesqui-centennial. 
 I couldn't get there till Sunday without cutting a Satur- 
 day lecture, which I knew I should have to cut a couple of 
 weeks later on account of a speech I had promised to make 
 in New York. I was glad that so many of the fellows 
 
 242 
 
stayed over Sunday, which gave me a chance to see a good 
 number of them. 
 
 Thanks for your congratulations on the increase of 
 salaries here. If we get the sums for which we are just 
 starting a drive, I trust that we may have our salaries 
 raised by the end of the year to a point where we can al- 
 most live on them. At present I can just about half do it ! 
 
 Haven't heard a word about Sewall. He lives down 
 below Philadelphia, you know, in a direction in which I am 
 never called. 
 
 Ever sincerely yours, 
 
 Jerry. 
 
 May 13, 1919. 
 
 Dear George: — 
 
 Home again, demobilized, plain civilian once more. 
 My foi, it feels good to get that little red strip on the arm. 
 See you in June and shall appreciate any dope you may 
 have concerning the "doings." Am in excellent health and 
 found the family glad to welcome me home again. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 M. J. Sewall, Civilian, 
 
 Late Major M. C. U. S. A. 
 
 195 E. Commerce St., Bridgeton, N. J., August 7, 1919. 
 Dear George: — 
 
 Evidently my telegram had not reached you when you 
 wrote me last : I wired inability to come on Saturday. 
 The serious illness and death of my closest friend kept me 
 here though I hoped to get away until Saturday P. M. I 
 felt I must come but also felt my obligation here under the 
 circumstances. I had banked on the Reunion for months 
 
 243 
 
and had some other important business in New England 
 as well. The thought of not coming never entered my head 
 until the last moment and I held out until the last train had 
 departed. I wished much to see you all and was anxious 
 to give you all anything of interest I might have for you. 
 Hope to see you in the fall in Boston. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 
 M. F. Sew all. 
 
 Maryland and Washington, D. C. 
 
 Our four-cornered survey is nearly completed and 
 ends appropriately in the National Capital. Raymond Pearl 
 of course is at Baltimore, at Johns Hopkins now, his no- 
 table work with Hoover accomplished. You will relish 
 his long suppressed account of our ex-secretary's work in 
 Washington. The Washington colony has shrunk from 
 its wartime basis to a peace quota of three. Warren Ken- 
 dall lives as strenuously as ever, with frequent trips here, 
 there and everywhere, on railroad business, organizing, 
 and speaking. A recent address was before the New York 
 Railroad Club in October. Frank Staley is busier than 
 ever now that he has transferred from the Food Adminis- 
 tration to the War Risk Bureau, and Rab Abbott has come 
 on to do permanent work with the Farm Loan Division 
 of the Treasury Department. 
 
 So '99 is on faithful guard at the headquarters of 
 American life as well as at its distant outposts. 
 
 Your last call, for this time, Mr. Postman. 
 
 Chicago, August 6, 191 9. 
 Dear K:— 
 
 Your circular letter of July 28 reached me here in 
 Chicago yesterday. I am making a special statistical in- 
 vestigation this summer, which * involves travelling pretty 
 
 244 
 
well all over the United States. Mrs. Pearl is with me, and 
 we are now on the way to Minneapolis, from which point 
 we shall start off sometime next week for the Pacific Coast 
 by way of the Canadian Pacific through the Canadian 
 Rockies. 
 
 Your outline of what you want us to write about in 
 connection with the reunion seems to me a little difficult to 
 follow. Personally, it was this time, as always, very diffi- 
 cult for me to see any fundamental changes in the men 
 in the class. I feel about them as I do about the members 
 of my own family, namely, that superficial changes such 
 as increased prosperity and all that sort of thing do not 
 matter. At bottom they are the same genuine good fellows 
 who, in their relations to each other, will always be the 
 same. It was a particularly keen pleasure to me to see this 
 time some of the men I had not seen since graduation, 
 notably Spade Heywood and Eddie Skinner. In common 
 with most of the men in the class, I am sure I should not 
 have known Galusha. 
 
 About the fellows not there I want in particular to 
 mention that about three weeks ago I saw Frank Staley in 
 Washington, and find that since he left the Food Adminis- 
 tration he has gone forward into a very important posi- 
 tion in the ( Bureau of War Risk Insurance. He is a sec- 
 tion chief in that Bureau now with an unbelievably large 
 number of people working under him, I think something 
 like twelve hundred, and is charged with the man sized 
 job of keeping the records straight for every individual 
 who was insured or had home allotments on his pay with 
 the War Risk Insurance. Inasmuch as this involves prac- 
 tically every enlisted man in the Army, it can readily be 
 seen that this is a proposition of considerable magnitude. 
 Frank appears to be thriving under it, and I judge will 
 before long be advanced into a still more important position 
 with the Bureau. 
 
 I welcome the opportunity which you throw open to 
 say something about George Clark. In my letter for him 
 
 245 
 
for the last class report I put in an account of his work 
 with the Food Administration, which he, with an entirely 
 unreasonable modesty cut out. I had expected to tell the 
 fellows in the class the story at the time of the class dinner 
 in Hanover, Gerould having connived with me to this end. 
 Unfortunately, however, I had to be away from Hanover on 
 the night of the dinner and lost that chance. Now, however, 
 you have given me the golden opportunity. The whole 
 story runs like this. Along in the summer of 1918 Mr. 
 Hoover felt that the time had come to make a proper record, 
 and at the same time do some further constructive work 
 regarding the general economic effects of Food Administra- 
 tion policies and activities. We had a good many talks 
 about the matter, and he asked me to find for him the best 
 man in the country to deal with the economic problems 
 and results of our Food Administration work. We first 
 canvassed the college and university field, and after a good 
 deal of deliberation, as well as some prior experience with 
 college professors of political economy, decided there was 
 no one in the group that would do for our purpose. The 
 next thought was to get someone from the group of econom- 
 ic writers in and around Wall Street, men who had been 
 connected, or were connected, with the leading financial 
 papers. I interviewed a number of people in this class, 
 supposedly from all the information I could get the best 
 men in the lot. Still they did not seem to have the qualifi- 
 cations which we wanted. Finally I said to Mr. Hoover 
 one day, "I believe I know a man who will do the job for 
 us. He is a lawyer in Boston, and to the best of my knowl- 
 edge has never studied economics, but who has, I believe, 
 the qualifications which we want." Mr. Hoover told me 
 to go get him, so by a proper wartime use of the telegraph 
 I tore George Clark away from his harvesting and brought 
 him on to Washington. Events were moving pretty rapidly, 
 and it so turned out that I had to leave for Europe the 
 day that George arrived in Washington. I did not even 
 have time to introduce him to Hoover. I simply turned 
 
 246 
 
him loose with the most general and ill-defined statement 
 of what he was expected to do, gave him an office and 
 went away. 
 
 The outcome was successful beyond anything that 
 either Mr. Hoover or I had anticipated. George did one 
 of the most brilliant pieces of work done anywhere in 
 Washington in connection with the war. If the armistice 
 had not come just at the time when it did, thus taking the 
 bottom out of everything, his work would have had a real 
 influence in shaping the economic policy of the country in 
 the post-war period. As it is, I still hope that it will be 
 possible to have the material published which he worked 
 up. It will make one of the most brilliant and profound 
 contributions to the literature of economics which has ever 
 been made in this' country. Besides all this he won the 
 respect and genuine affection of everyone with whom he 
 came in contact in the Food Administration from Hoover 
 down the line to the office boy. Altogether, I feel sure that 
 the fellows in the class have no adequate conception of the 
 real abilities of George Clark. If events should ever turn 
 so that I should again chance to be charged with consider- 
 able executive responsibilities, our honored and well be- 
 loved ex -secretary would be one of the first men I should 
 try to gtt as a helper. 
 
 You ask about the degrees. The important one was 
 the D. Sc. from Dartmouth, which was a deeper satis- 
 faction to me than any other honor I have ever had, or so 
 far as I can see, ever will have. The other was an LL. D. 
 from the University of Maine. 
 
 With best regards, and wishing you all success, in your 
 new job, which I know will be yours, I am 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 Raymond Pearl. 
 
 247 
 
Washington, D. C, August 26, 1919. 
 Dear Kenneth: — 
 
 As September 1 draws nearer I feel a response is due 
 your demand for material prior to that date and so I am 
 sending you a partial report now in order to appear, at 
 least, to get under the wire. 
 
 Willard is resigning his position with the Census Bu- 
 reau to return to the University of Maine as Professor of 
 mathematics. He is packing up his household goods now 
 and will leave with his family sometime between the 1st 
 and the 15th of next month. I think this election came 
 to him at a most opportune time and it is recognition which 
 he richly deserves. Tony is a hard worker. 
 
 Frank Staley after the break-up of the Food Ad- 
 ministration went to the War Risk Bureau of the Treasury 
 Department and while at first he talked as though this was 
 to be a temporary position, in my last conversation with 
 him I thought he was a little more settled in his mind that 
 he would see this thing through, apparently his work having 
 grown in volume and importance so that he is now in charge 
 of a very large section. He lives just outside of the centre 
 of town in a large house which was occupied .by Steve 
 Chase so long as his work was in Washington, — they having 
 moved to the vicinity of Baltimore. Frank has three 
 splendid boys and they are getting the advantage of a 
 Washington atmosphere during an important period of their 
 lives. I believe that Frank is due to stay here at least 
 another year, although this is not anything which comes 
 to me directly. 
 
 E. A. Abbott is the only other member of our class 
 who is still in Washington. His work is of a permanent 
 nature with the Farm Loan Division of the Treasury De- 
 partment and as I understand is something in line with what 
 he has been doing in California except that he is at head- 
 quarters instead of in one of the branches. I judge this 
 is an important change. 
 
 Your very truly, 
 
 Warren. 
 248 
 
Washington, May 3, 1919. 
 Dear George: — 
 
 I may or may not be in the east in June; it depends 
 upon whether or not my present position holds out. And 
 if it does, I have great doubts about being allowed any time 
 off so soon after acquiring the job. The war emergency 
 rules and regulations have been set aside in favor of the 
 hard and fast rules of the days of peace, and the Treasury 
 Department, in which I am employed, is a great stickler 
 for sticking fast to Departmental red tape. 
 
 To be real frank, I do not believe that I shall be able, 
 to get away. We are rushed to death with work, and the 
 threatened rapid demobilization of the army will swamp us. 
 So as it looks to me now, I shall be very lucky if I get to 
 the dinner at all, and it will probably be only in time to help 
 carry in the dessert. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 Frank C. Staley. 
 
 Washington, August 18, 1919. 
 My dear Beal: — 
 
 I have your appeal of July 28 and will try to tell you 
 a little about myself, but will not attempt to enlarge on 
 the Daylight Saving, Price Fixing, etc., as the daily papers 
 are full of this and written by more able and better posted 
 men. 
 
 I felt it was unjust to myself and the class that I could 
 not attend the reunion, but inasmuch as I had just spent 
 about four hundred dollars in getting myself and family to 
 Washington, D. C, and had only been on the job a few 
 weeks and further that the Department was flooded with 
 work, etc., etc., I found it impossible to avail myself of the 
 joy of seeing the class and Hanover this year. Kendall 
 
 249 
 
called me up and urged me to go and said auto transporta- 
 tion would be provided from New York to Hanover, but 
 it was no use. 
 
 I thought of you all many times and would like to have 
 been there. 
 
 Now as to myself. The Farm Loan Bureau here had 
 need of the services of a man posted on conditions of 
 agriculture and land values in the West, especially on the 
 Pacific Coast, and through the Federal Land Bank of Berke- 
 ley they picked on me and I accepted and here I am. My 
 .work is examining the loans, submitted by the various 
 Land Banks throughout the West, as a basis for bond is- 
 sues and analyzing and approving or rejecting them. This 
 work is rather interesting and instructive and my land and 
 loan work during the last twenty years has fitted me for 
 the work. 
 
 It pays a good salary and the hours are easy and the 
 work plenty. If it were not for the profiteering in rents 
 now so common in Washington, life would be very sweet. 
 However, the saying is that once you have lived in Cali- 
 fornia you will never be satisfied elsewhere and I fear that 
 is true. I miss the open, free life of that glorious state, 
 the wonderful climate and the auto travel from one part 
 to the other, the freedom from office hours, etc., etc., and 
 feel I will never be entirely happy until I return to dear 
 old California. My wife heartily joins me in this. 
 
 Since living here I spent one very pleasant Sunday 
 afternoon with Willard and his family. We had a dandy 
 visit and I was pleased to meet his charming wife and in- 
 teresting children and don't forget the dog also. He is 
 fighting the H. C. L. with a dandy garden and worlds of 
 wild berries on every hand. We sampled some of these 
 berries and some excellent apple pie later in the evening. 
 
 The Farm Loan Act is doing a wonderful work in 
 aiding the farmer all over the United States to secure 
 cheaper money, stabilizing interest rates, and bringing more 
 
 250 
 
land under cultivation and increasing food production. Just 
 what effect, if any, the Act will have in providing or as- 
 sisting returning soldiers to secure a farm is a problem 
 for the future and by no means settled. 
 
 The President, Congress and all the leading men of 
 the Capitol are now struggling with the questions of high 
 prices and low wages, increasing cost of living and wage 
 demands, strikes, etc., etc., "and the end is not yet." We 
 are all interestedly watching the outcome and hoping for 
 results and some action which will assist in readjusting 
 general conditions to more normal times. 
 
 Daylight Saving is favored by the cities and big moneyed 
 centers but frowned on by the farmer. Rightly, no doubt, 
 but the farmer, like other business men finds it impossible 
 to regulate his office hours entirely according to his personal 
 convenience. 
 
 On my way here I had a delightful visit with Dr. 
 Cushman at lunch and had the pleasure of introducing him 
 to my wife. He looks fine, fat and prosperous. I hope he 
 will stop over here on one of his trips East. 
 
 Now, finally, Friend Beal, I can frankly say that you 
 will have to work early and late to keep up the pace set 
 by our old friend G. C. who was always springing some 
 interesting surprise on us and urging us in his penned re- 
 marks at the 'bottom of the letter to "do our best." We all 
 await with interest to see how you keep up the good work. 
 Slip her in high and let's have a report. We all like them. 
 
 I hope you can pick out some bits from this letter which 
 you will find helpful. It leaves me busy, in fine health, 
 and trying to meet conditions as they come. 
 
 With kindest regards to yourself and any of the boys 
 you meet, I am 
 
 Most sincerely yours, 
 
 E. A. Abbott. 
 
 251 
 
THE ALUMNI MAGAZINE 
 
 The Executive Committee wish to call the attention of 
 '99 men earnestly to the publication known as the Dart- 
 mouth Alumni Magazine. It is published nine times a year, 
 in November, December, January, February, March, April, 
 May, July, and August. Annual subscription is $1.50, or 
 single copies $.20. It is published distinctly for graduates 
 of the college, and contains in every issue live personal 
 notes from the various classes as well as important and 
 interesting college news. 
 
 The Secretary purposes, with the zealous and gossipy 
 cooperation of everybody, to hold up '99's end in the pages 
 devoted to class notes. But these class notes miss their 
 principal aim if the members of the class are not seeing 
 the magazine monthly. The class column in the magazine 
 is in effect a miniature monthly report and pleasantly sup- 
 plements the larger yearly report. 
 
 Think it over, fellows. Then send your order to the 
 Dartmouth Alumni Magazine, Hanover, N. H. 
 
 252 
 
THE '99 CLASS FUND 
 
 The new Class Fund Committee contains four names: 
 T. A. Lynch, Chairman and Class Agent as before 
 A. M. Abbott, new member 
 O. A. Hoban, new member 
 W. B. Hodgkins, continuing member 
 
 The record by years so far in the $10,000 campaign 
 is as follows : 
 
 1914-15 39 contributors Total $ 571.00 
 
 1915-16 47 " " 646.50 
 
 1916-17 38 " " 500.50 
 
 1917-18 79 " 1,501.50 
 
 1918-19 46 " " 554.00 
 
 $3773-50 
 
 85 different contributors 
 {22 gave once; 16, twice; 14, three times; 11, four 
 times; 22, five times.) 
 
 Total men not yet contributing 40 
 
 Total amount remaining to be contributed $6,226.50 
 Time remaining 5 years 
 
 Average amount necessary to raise each year $1,245.30 
 
 Get behind the Committee! 
 
 253 
 
ROUND-UP 1919— BOSTON CITY CLUB 
 
 Those present : Drew, J. B. Walker, Johnston, F. A. 
 Walker, Beal, Kendall, Barney, Eaton, Eastman, W. R., Ho- 
 ban, Donahue, Allen, Sleeper, Osgood, W. B. Adams, 
 Huckins, Currier, Sears, H. A. Miller, Hawkes, Rogers, 
 Hobbs, Heywood, Skinner, N. P. Brown, J. L. Sanborn, 
 Irving, Evans, Clark, Parker. (30) 
 
 Place : Room B, 8th floor, Boston City Club. $2.00 
 apiece for the dinner; cigars, cigarettes, and toothpicks 
 extra. 
 Toasts : K. Beal, toastmaster 
 
 '99 in Washington 
 
 Supplying the Army with Books 
 
 '01 Felicitates 
 
 Reunion Plans 
 
 High Cost of Living. See later" 
 
 note ! 
 Transporting Soldiers ; especially 
 disembarkation of Canadian sol- 
 diers at Portland 
 The Mid-European Union; illus- 
 trated by maps later distributed to 
 class individually. 
 The Secretary's Portfolio. 
 '"99", a new song to the tune of 
 Madelon by C. H. Donahue. 
 Later printed in the Vicennial 
 Song Book. 
 Irving French, J. Ward, B. Kimball, '01, were having 
 an executive committee meeting of the class of '01 at the 
 club that night and came up to visit. Kimball responded 
 when called upon to speak and kept the crowd laughing 
 over some felicitous remarks. Kendall came on from 
 
 Kendall 
 
 Evans 
 
 Kimball 
 
 Barney 
 
 Johnston 
 
 Eastman, W. R. 
 
 Miller, H. A. 
 
 Clark 
 
 Adams, W. B. 
 
 254 
 
Washington, Miller happened to be in New York at the 
 time and recognizing it was the first Saturday in March 
 telegraphed over to see if the Round-Up was taking place 
 as usual and upon a wired affirmative came over. H. H. 
 Sears and Sanborn came from New Haven; Heywood and 
 Skinner came from Worcester way ; Parker and Johnston 
 from Manchester and J. B. Walker from Lee. 
 
 Note on Bob Johnston's talk : There is some disagree- 
 ment as to what Bob actually said, but this is what an 
 anonymous program maker suggested he might say on his 
 topic of the "High Cost of Living." 
 
 "Will present tabulations of figures drawn from Gov- 
 ernmental authorities, showing comparative prices of peas, 
 cauliflower, rum, oats and chewing tobacco, every decade 
 from the time of the adoption of the Federal Constitution 
 in 1789 to date. Will analyze the effect on the quality of 
 booze, due to each of the successive taxes imposed. Will 
 plunge into gloom and prophesy what will happen after 
 July 1, 1919." 
 
 Two months after the Round-Up there was another 
 Dartmouth '99 affair at the City Club, — at least it was 
 in charge of Jim Barney as Vice-President of the Dartmouth 
 Club, K. Beal presided, Win Adams sang his illustrated 
 song "Arcady," and George Clark gave a talk on college 
 life with emphasis on Outing Club hikes and the winter 
 carnival illustrated by lantern slides and movie reels, The 
 occasion was called a "Sons of Members Night" and drew 
 out about four or five hundred Dartmouth men with their 
 own sons or sons of friends to be reminded why boys do 
 well to go to Dartmouth. 
 
 Walter Lillard '07, Principal of Tabor Academy, 
 Marion, Mass., spoke on "What a Boy Gains by Going to 
 Hanover" ; Dean Laycock and President Hopkins both 
 spoke very effectively, and with the help of some printed 
 song books there was a lot of good lusty singing. 
 
 255 
 
Perhaps this night had a little to do with the record 
 breaking freshman class the next fall. At any rate Jim, 
 now President of the Boston Dartmouth Club, says he is 
 going to have such an evening annually. 
 
 France, November 30, 19 18. 
 
 RECORD OF CO. A, 102nd FIELD BATTALION, U. 
 
 S. ARMY, FORMERLY CO. A, 1st BATTALION 
 
 SIGNAL CORPS, N.G., N.Y. 
 
 ,BY HERBERT L. WATSON, CAPTAIN 
 COMMANDING 
 
 This Company together with the Battalion of which 
 it was a part, the whole consisting of Battalion Headquar- 
 ters and Companies A, B and C, was called into active ser- 
 vice July 16, 1917, under the call of the President of July 3, 
 1917. 
 
 The whole organization was mustered into Federal Ser- 
 vice July 21, 1917, and was drafted into federal service 
 August 5, 191 7. 
 
 All the officers of the Battalion accepted new commis- 
 sions in the same grade under the draft of August 5, 1917. 
 
 On September 11, 1917, the complete Battalion was 
 moved from the Armories to Spartanburg, S. C, when they 
 went into Camp Wadsworth, arriving there September 14, 
 1917. 
 
 During the next eight months the training consisted of 
 all manner of military work pertaining to our general and 
 special duties. 
 
 Picked men were sent to Officers Training School, 
 other men were sent to Enlisted Men's Training Schools 
 such as Cooks, Horseshoers, Physical, Motor Transport, 
 Supply, Bayonet and Gas. 
 
 256 
 
During this same period there were operating under 
 direction of the Division Signal Officer Schools of Elec- 
 tricity, Signalling/Telegraphy, Telephony and Cipher Codes 
 for the members of the Battalion together with special details 
 of Officers and non-commissioned officers of the Regimental 
 Signal Platoons under officers and men of the Signal Bat- 
 talion. 
 
 In November special impetus was given to our signal 
 instruction due to the arrival of 2nd Lieutenant Charles J. 
 Smith and Sergeant Grand direct from the French Army 
 front. 
 
 Lieutenant Smith gave us first hand information as to 
 conditions and how best to meet them. 
 
 The men of this Company had daily work as to buzzer 
 and radio instruments, and during the rifle range work of 
 the Division we operated a radio station at the Division 
 Headquarters, a station at the range approximately thirty 
 miles distant, and one intermediate station. 
 
 Communications were kept up at all times and until 
 nearly the end of the range work the wireless was the only 
 means of communication since there was no telephone and 
 roads were almost impassable. 
 
 The pack sets were used for this work until a 2 K. W. 
 tractor set was furnished and used at Division station. 
 
 The Battalion left Camp Wadsworth on May 10, 1918, 
 for Newport News, Virginia. 
 
 Here the men were fully equipped with ordnance and 
 quartermaster property and the signal property to be fur- 
 nished in the U. S. 
 
 Early morning of May 17th, found the Battalion on the 
 move from barracks to the wharves of Newport News 
 where we all embarked on the Pocahontas, formerly the 
 German steamer Princess Irene. 
 
 Our boat was anchored in Hampton Roads for twenty- 
 four hours waiting the loading of the other ships of the con- 
 
 257 
 
voy, but finally the home waters were cleared on May 18, 
 19 1 8, and the voyage across the Atlantic was begun. 
 
 The convoy contained eight merchant vessels led by an 
 American cruiser and further guarded by four torpedo des- 
 troyers. 
 
 During the first day out, wireless notice was received 
 of the appearance of submarines in a comparatively nearby 
 portion of the ocean and from that time on every one was 
 required to wear or have close to him the cumbersome life 
 belt, both while awake and asleep. 
 
 Submarine guards and lookouts of soldiers were con- 
 stantly on duty in addition to the ship's crew. 
 
 Daily drills were held both for fire discipline and for 
 abandon ship, in case of accident. 
 
 The first exciting event was a midday report from the 
 masthead of the appearance of a "sub" slightly off the star- 
 board bow of our ship and near the horizon. 
 
 Cruisers and destroyers immediately increased speed 
 and investigated, while the convoy proceeded without change 
 of course. 
 
 The object which was passed by us on our starboard 
 side within one hundred feet, proved to be an overturned 
 lifeboat. 
 
 The next exciting event proved to be real enough for 
 during daylight a submarine periscope appeared above the 
 surface of the water in the middle of the fleet about midway 
 between our ship and the one next to starboard. 
 
 The alarm was sounded and all ships with possible 
 ranges opened fire, one shell barely missing the bow of our 
 ship as it ricochetted. 
 
 All ships immediately changed their courses away from 
 the "Sub." The most surprising thing was the quick turn- 
 ing and great speed of the submarine destroyers which dart- 
 ed directly toward the spot where the submerged "Sub" had 
 been and dropped several depthbombs. 
 
 258 
 
Later that day one of the destroyers which had re- 
 mained behind to investigate reported that sufficient evi- 
 dence had been found to warrant the belief that the "Sub" 
 had been sunk. 
 
 Several days before reaching land seven more destroy- 
 ers joined the convoy and our cruiser turned about to return 
 to home waters. 
 
 Just before sighting land the lookouts sighted two 
 "Subs" a long distance off to starboard and gave chase. We 
 had a fine view of Navy work and none of our ships were 
 troubled. We afterwards heard that one of the "Subs" 
 had surely been sunk. 
 
 Land was sighted early one day and we all had a good 
 sunset view of cliffs and harbors and rivers as we sailed 
 into the port of St. Nazaire, France, on May 30, 1918. 
 
 We were given an enthusiastic welcome as we passed 
 through the locks to the wharf to which we tied up for the 
 night. 
 
 Throughout the voyage, with the exception of one 
 rainy day and comparatively rough water for two days, the 
 weather was clear and the ocean was as smooth as an in- 
 land lake. 
 
 Actual debarkation began in the early morning of May 
 31, 19 18, and we were marched through the City to a rest 
 camp several kilometers outside of the City limits. 
 
 At St. Nazaire three days were spent in rest and in re- 
 ceiving some new equipment and an early morning start 
 was made for the railroad yard in the City on June 4, 1918. 
 
 Here the men became acquainted with the "40 Hommes 
 — 8 Chevaux" freight cars which were to be their means of 
 transport many times thereafter. Thirty-six men were 
 placed in each car with three days' rations and the officers 
 in three compartment coaches which had at some very dis- 
 tant past period been called first class cars. 
 
 Our train route was through Nantes, Le Mons, Laigle, 
 Rouen, thence to the coast of Noyelles sur Mer since 
 
 259 
 
Amiens was too close to the battle line for trains to pass 
 that way. 
 
 The troops detrained at Noyelles about 2 A. M. June 6, 
 191 8, and after a short sleep and an early breakfast were 
 taken to a salvage point near the tracks where they were 
 ordered to divest themselves of all extra clothing and equip- 
 ment which they had brought from the States, leaving only 
 the uniform on the person, an extra change of underwear, 
 flannel shirt and socks, together with the personal signal 
 equipment then issued and personal toilet articles. 
 
 That same day march was taken up for Nouvion, each 
 man carrying all his remaining possessions on his back. 
 
 A stop was made for the night in an empty British 
 Camp and march was resumed next morning for St. Riquier, 
 arriving about noon of June 7, 191 8. 
 
 Here at St. Riquier the men began their existence in 
 billets, same being sheds, barns, lofts and any other place 
 furnishing shelter, but not in people's houses. Officers were 
 given vacant furnished rooms in houses. 
 
 For eleven days both physical and mental training was 
 carried out to the limits of equipment and opportunity. 
 
 Here also the members of the Battalion received their 
 first knowledge of actual modern warfare, for we had two 
 visits of German bombing planes, although the bombs were 
 really dropped in the neighboring town of Abbeville. The 
 sound of these machines in the air was thoroughly fixed in 
 the men's minds for future use. 
 
 From St. Riquier on June 18th march was taken up 
 for Fressenville, 21 miles away, and completed in one day 
 under full pack. 
 
 June 2 1st found the organization again on the march 
 back over the same route as the previous march, only this 
 time the march ended in billets at Port le Grande, only 
 about 10 miles away. 
 
 The next day march was resumed to Gd. Laviers, about 
 two miles off, where the whole Battalion was loaded on 
 
 260 
 
lorries (British name for motor truck) and taken back 
 through Abbeville and St. Riquier and beyond to Beauval, 
 which was reached that same day. 
 
 While in Beauval, the American radio equipment was 
 issued. This was of a modified French type. During our 
 stay here training was kept up with the new instruments. 
 The training was much retarded for we had positive orders 
 to use low aerials and but very little power and to send mes- 
 sages only in code because of German listening stations. 
 
 While at Beauval, German planes were over nightly 
 and one night dropped four bombs, one of which landed 
 in center of the picket line killing eleven animals, but miss- 
 ing all men. 
 
 On July 2nd our Battalion moved out of Beauval to 
 R. R. Station at Candas and thence by rail to Arques where 
 we detrained and marched to Nieurval reaching that camp 
 after dark July 3rd. 
 
 July 4th was celebrated as a holiday with a limited 
 number of passes allowed to the neighboring city of St. 
 Omer. 
 
 About July 14th German airplanes passed over this 
 place and dropped several bombs one of which struck and 
 wrecked the building which had been occupied by our Bat- 
 talion Headquarters. 
 
 On July 7th the Battalion was again on the move to 
 Oudezeele, Belgium, which was reached in the afternoon. 
 
 At this station began our real training for front line 
 duty. We were in a British sector and directly under control 
 of the British XIX Corps. 
 
 On our arrival the Radio Officer of the XIX Corps vis- 
 ited our Company and inspected our radio equipment. His 
 verdict was that the American-French instruments would 
 not work at all in the British Sector and gave me an order 
 on his store keeper for two complete sets of their 50 1 watt 
 field equipment. Later the number of 50 1 watt sets was in- 
 creased to six and a Wilson 150 Watt set with Mark III 
 receiver and amplifier added. 
 
 261 
 
The XIX Corps also detailed a Corporal and a Sapper 
 as our instructors and with the above equipment instruction 
 began in earnest. Our N. C. Q.'s and operators were first 
 given instruction under the Corporal in use of instruments 
 and codes together with English procedure while others 
 studied telegraphy, visual procedure and physical training. 
 As soon as the N.- C. O.'s were competent the training of 
 all others began covering the same ground. 
 
 When competent the Corps sent operators to Corps 
 Headquarters stations and to the station in the front line 
 held by the 6th and 41st Divisions (British) for actual ex- 
 perience in operating under war conditions. These Divi- 
 sions held the front before Mt. Kimmel from Schpenburg 
 Hill and north towards Poperinghe. ' 
 
 These details were changed every five and six days 
 until all operators and N. C. O.'s had had one or more turns 
 in each class of work. The Company Officers each had a 
 three day tour at the front, the writer being at the 41st Divi- 
 sion at and around Schpenburg from July 16 to 19, 1918. 
 
 As our men became capable as instructors details of 
 eight of the best operators from the signal platoons of the 
 four infantry regiments of the Division were added to our 
 Company for instruction. 
 
 About July 17th nineteen of our fair to medium opera- 
 tors were sent to the XIX Corps school at Volkerinckhove 
 for two weeks' course of instruction. 
 
 All Radio work here was as at Beauval under control of 
 the British and the opportunities for sending were limited 
 but the air was so full of signals that all got practice in re- 
 ceiving. 
 
 Use was made of the French "E 3" set to give practice 
 in continuous wave radio work since the British Artillery 
 were using this exclusively. The wave lengths used were 
 450 for spark sets and 1220 for C. W. sets. 
 
 Our main station was manned continuously but no 
 official use was made of it except for two official test mes- 
 sages daily and on the ( British "wireless days" when all 
 
 262 
 
other means of communication were supposed to be cut. 
 First Class Sergeants Robert T: Battle and Donald R. Cath- 
 cart were transferred to Headquarters Army Candidates' 
 School on July 24, 1918. 
 
 On August 23, 1918, our Division and the Battalion 
 moved forward and relieved the 6th British Division in the 
 Dickiebusch Sector. This Company assumed charge of the 
 Radio situation and direction of the heavy artillery radio 
 which remained in position. 
 
 The main directing station was at Division Headquar- 
 ters at Douglass Camp south of Poperinghe and three miles 
 northwest of Abeel. A new station was opened at 53rd 
 Brigade Headquarters (a location not before used by the 
 British) and at a point one-half a mile northwest of Ouder- 
 dom on Poperinghe-Ouderdom road, and another in Abeel 
 . at 54th Brigade Headquarters which Brigade was in re- 
 serve. These three stations were manned by members of this 
 Company. 
 
 A station was taken over at what became headquarters 
 of the 105th Regiment one mile south west of Reninghelst 
 the left Regiment in line but the location of the headquar- 
 ters of the 106th Regiment 1000 yards south east of Ou- 
 derdom (the right regiment in line) was so directly under 
 observation from Mt. Kimmel that the Regimental Com- 
 mander would not allow the opening of a station. The 
 107th and 1 08th Regiments (reserve) had listening stations 
 only except under emergency orders. The 105th Regiment 
 Headquarters and Radio Station did not move forward after 
 the successful drive of our troops beyond Dickiebusch Lake. 
 
 Each of these regimental stations was operated by regi- 
 mental signal platoon operators assisted in each case by 
 an operator from this Company. 
 
 Due mostly to lack of actual responsibility for work 
 under fire the success of the radio in this action could only 
 be considered as fair. Messages were more or less slow in 
 transmission but the German jamming sets were partly re- 
 sponsible for this as these men had not learned how to work 
 through it. 
 
 263 
 
The 165th Regiment station had its antennae brought 
 down twice by shell fire and the 53rd Brigade station had 
 the same experience once. The Brigade instrument broke 
 down and had to be replaced. 
 
 The greatest trouble was experienced over the storage 
 battery situation. Batteries were delivered daily by the 
 Company for both radio and power buzzer work but it 
 seemed next to impossible to get the regimental signallers 
 to return the "duds" for recharging. 
 
 The Battalion men were all finally relieved by early 
 morning of September 3, 1918, and immediately left Camp 
 Douglas and vicinity and marched back to Oudezeele where 
 camps for the night were made on sites originally occupied. 
 
 Next day, September 4, 191 8, we marched back over 
 the same road as far as Watou thence on to Proven north of 
 Poperinghe where we were entrained on wide gauge road 
 for Candas from which station we started our original trip 
 to Belgium. 
 
 Candas was reached in P. M. September 5, 1918. All 
 detrained and marched through Beauval to Beauquesne, 
 the next town beyond, for a period of rest and refitting of 
 all kinds. In most cases good billets were obtained here. 
 
 Division Headquarters were located in a chateau about 
 a mile out of town and there a listening station was estab- 
 lished for daily press and time signals from Eiffel Tower 
 and anything else of interest as the town was cut off from 
 Corps and Army Headquarters. 
 
 The British sets could not be used directly to get this 
 Eiffel Tower news but after considerable experimenting by 
 our MSE, with home made inductance and capacity success 
 was attained. 
 
 The usual drills and practice were carried out here to 
 keep the men in shape. 
 
 Just before leaving this town, complete sets of in- 
 struments and a personnel of six men were sent to each 
 Brigade headquarters and instruments to each regiment to 
 be moved forward with these organizations. 
 
 264 
 
On September 22 our MSE. James C. Randall was 
 transferred to and appointed to Army Signal School (Can- 
 didates). 
 
 The Battalion entrained September 24 for Tincourt, 
 en route for Driencourt in the support area for the LeCa- 
 telot sector. 
 
 I had the pleasure of making the trip with Division 
 Signal Officer in his car. 
 
 We passed through several towns which had been the 
 center of No Man's Land since early war days and now 
 were complete wrecks, notably Albert and Peronne. Our 
 car reached Driencourt in afternoon of day we started, 
 but the Battalion did not arrive until next day, September 
 25. 
 
 The Division station was immediately established and 
 full preparations made to take over control from the Brit- 
 ish at midnight September 25-26. 
 
 Fresh batteries were sent forward for all stations as 
 soon as darkness fell that night. 
 
 It should be noted here that our Division took over the 
 front occupied by two entire British Divisions, viz., the 18th 
 and 74th. 
 
 The 53rd Brigade station was established in a quarry 
 about 600 yards north of St. Emilie and the 105th and 106th 
 Regiment Headquarters within 500 yards of each other in 
 the town of Ronssoy. These Headquarters were so near to- 
 gether that only the 106th Regiment station was in opera- 
 tion. 
 
 September 27, 19 18, the regiment pushed forward and 
 headquarters also and the 53rd and 54th Brigade Headquar- 
 ters occupied the dugouts where Regimental Headquarters 
 had been. The 54th Signal station personnel took over the 
 radio station and worked for both Brigades. 
 
 The Division control station also moved forward to 
 the quarry where 53rd Brigade Headquarters had been. 
 
 265 
 
The next day the remainder of the Company moved to the 
 quarry. 
 
 On night of September 29-30 the 107th and 108th 
 Regiment had passed through the 105th and 106th Regi- 
 ments. A shell struck the building where the 108th station 
 was located wrecking the instruments and the 107th set 
 had been broken down. Both sets were replaced using those 
 of the 106th Regiment, 53rd Brigade, but only the 107th 
 set was operated after the change. 
 
 The Division control station was in constant communi- 
 cation with Second American Corps Headquarters, the 30th 
 American Division control and other stations, one Brigade 
 station and spasmodically with the 107th advance station 
 during this action. 
 
 Few messages were sent via' radio except to Second 
 Corps because of the successful operation of the telephone 
 and buzzerphones to the forward headquarters. Many re- 
 ports were handed to Corps Headquarters because of lack 
 of wire communications. 
 
 During this action five men of this Company together 
 with Captain Rosser of Co. .B were badly gassed while help- 
 ing to maintain the jB Company wire lines. These men were 
 1st Class Sergeants Redlefsen and Hoey, Corporal Coleman 
 and 1st Class Privates Everett and Lydamore. It should/ 
 be noted here that on September 29 the 105th and 106th 
 had given battle to the opposing forces and had advanced 
 to their objectives through determined resistance. 
 
 September 29-30 the 107th and 108th passed through 
 and on the 30th broke down the resistance of the vaunted 
 Hindenburg line and passed far beyond the St. Quentin 
 canal. 
 
 On October 1 an Australian Division relieved this Divi- 
 sion and the next day this Company, less its Brigade and 
 Regimental personnel, returned to Driencourt via road. 
 Here we refitted with radio and other equipment. 
 
 On October 9, 1918, began a series of marches in an 
 
 266 
 
endeavor to catch up with the righting line. Leaving Drien- 
 court early we reached Hervilly at 10.30 a. m. and avail- 
 able billets were being secured when we suddenly received 
 marching orders and left at 4.30 p. m. with the full batta- 
 lion and horse drawn transport. 
 
 While daylight lasted we traveled over comparatively 
 good roads but with a night of pitch black darkness the 
 condition of the road changed. The route was from Her- 
 villy via Villeret and Bellecourt to Nauroy. After crossing 
 the road bewteen Jeancourt and Hargicourt we passed over 
 a fourth class road which had been thoroughly shelled both 
 in the road and on all sides. Here the transport was con- 
 stantly getting stuck in the road and it was not until 11.15 
 p. m. that Nauroy was reached after traveling about 12 
 miles. Camp was made in an open field without aid of lights. 
 
 Next day, October 10, the Battalion marched to Jon- 
 court reaching there before noon. Left Joncourt at 4.30 
 p. m. and reached Brancourt at 7.30 p. m. again camping in 
 an open field. In the morning there were found in the field 
 three dead Germans, one Englishman and a dead Tennessee 
 officer. The roads and fields had been strewn with dead 
 Germans and horses for the last two days' march. 
 
 October 1 1 march was resumed at 8.00 a. m. from Bran- 
 court and Premont reached at 11.30 a. m. The two main 
 roads north and east from Premont had been mined and 
 fired, leaving inverted core shaped holes 40 feet deeo and 
 80 to 90 feet across the top. We obtained a two days' rest 
 at Premont leaving there at 1.30 p. m. October 13 for Bu- 
 signey which was reached at 4.30 p. m. We were greeted 
 on arrival with a heavy shelling, the first shell to drop land- 
 ing in the center of the court-yard of the Chateau into which 
 division headquarters was then moving. Five people were 
 injured including an Officer talking to our Major who was 
 uninjured. The engine of the Signal Corps lighting lorry 
 and several motor cycles were damaged. 
 
 The Division control station was quickly set up by 
 taking over the installation provided the previous day by 
 
 267 
 
one of the Brigade sections. The Signal Corps outpost and 
 Regimental platoons were at this time so badly cut up as 
 regards operators that this Company had to assume the 
 entire radio operation for the coming battle. Details were 
 arranged to operate one Brigade station since both Brigades' 
 Headquarters were to be in the same town, one Regimental 
 station as all regimental headquarters were to be grouped 
 in the next town and two sections for forward regimental 
 stations with advanced Battalion Headquarters. The Re- 
 gimental Headquarters were established in Escaufort Oc- 
 tober 13 without radio stations. Brigade station was located 
 at Escaufort October 16. During the evening of October 
 16 this town was severely shelled with H. E. and gas. The 
 station was established without accident. 
 
 The entire personnel in the building next door to our 
 Radio station, establishing the telephone switchboard, be- 
 came gas casualties. Captain Callaway was one of those 
 gassed. The regimental station was set up at St. Souplet 
 on the banks of the Selle River in early morning of October 
 17, 1918. The Germans had been driven across the river 
 scarcely an hour when Regimental Headquarters and the 
 radio stations were established. The advanced regimental 
 stations followed the Battalion Headquarters of the leading 
 battalions. 
 
 While advancing with the 107th Battalion Sergeant 
 Macdonald of this Company was injured in seven places 
 by a bursting shell and 1st Class Private Scharrenbeck was 
 gassed seriously. However the station was set up by the re- 
 mainder of the section at Baudival Farm where it remained 
 as a relay point throughout the action. Sergeant Smith 
 and 1st Class Private Stanley were sent forward to re- 
 enforce the section. 
 
 The station of the 105th battalion was first at Abre 
 Guernon. Report came to me at St. Souplet that Sergeant 
 Pangburn had been injured and instruments destroyed. 
 Pangburn's injury proved to be such that he was able to 
 walk to a dressing station. Before learning of this I had 
 
 268 
 
sent ist Class Sergeant Heart and Corporal Roquet for- 
 ward with a complete set to cover any requirements. As 
 the 105th advanced the station was moved to Jonc de Mer 
 Farm where it remained for the rest of the action. 
 
 On the night of the 17th after the Germans were pushed 
 back from the Selle River a load of wire was sent forward 
 in a lorry with English drivers. They were afraid to cross 
 the river and threw all the wire off on the west side. They 
 reported to me for help and I sent them back with Chauf- 
 feur Cooksley and ist Class Private R. J. Walsh. The 
 drivers carried a few reels across and when shelling started 
 they jumped aboard their lorry and disappeared. Cooksley 
 and Walsh finished the work but the last wire was carried 
 over after a gas shelling and the next day these men had to 
 be sent to the hospital. 
 
 Our advanced radio stations were relieved during the 
 night of October 20-21 and I closed the St. Souplet station 
 at 9.15 a. m. October 21 and shortly after closed the Es- 
 caufort station and marched with all men from stations back 
 to Busigny. 
 
 The best of radio communications between all stations 
 was had at all times October 16 to 20 except that only oc- 
 casionally on October 17 could we work with Division sta- 
 tion on account of interference. 
 
 Our advanced regimental station was in excellent com- 
 munication with the Divisional control station seven miles 
 away. This advanced 105th Regiment station was located 
 in a house but a short time previously occupied by a Ger- 
 man station and in fact our station made use of the German 
 antennae which was found to be set in the right direction 
 for our use. But very little use was made of wireless com- 
 munication because of the good telephone service and be- 
 cause our officers could not get the officials, for whose use 
 the stations were established, to write messages They all 
 wished to talk to their correspondents directly. 
 
 This last battle proved to be the most disastrous to Co. 
 
 269 
 
A of any others, not from wounds but sickness and acci- 
 dents. 
 
 Shortly after reaching Busigney before noon of Oc- 
 tober 21 our Surgeon sent to hospital Cook Hoffman, sick, 
 and ist Class Private Rogers accidentally shot by an Aus- 
 tralian who was handling a captured German pistol. On the 
 25th 1 st Class Sergeant Osgood, Sergeants Rushmore and 
 Heep, Corporal Irwin, ist Class Privates Squires, Stanley 
 and Wyckoff and Private McCabe together with the writer 
 went to the hospital with influenza. On this date also Cor- 
 poral Coleman and ist Class Private Mickens returned to 
 duty from the hospital. On the next day ist Class Private 
 Rose and Privates Fox, G. F. Walsh and Laplace went to 
 hospital from the same cause. 
 
 The Company moved from Busigney October 22 to 
 Mauroy and bivouacked, Nauroy to Roisel October 23 
 where we were to entrain next day. During the early fore- 
 noon of October 24 a German mine under crossing of high- 
 way and railroad blew up after more than a month's de- 
 layed action. The mine caused a complete blockade of rail- 
 road which made it necessary for Battalion to march to Tin- 
 court in evening of the 24th. All entrained in early morn- 
 ing of October 25 and reached rest area at Corbie, Somme, 
 in late afternoon. The writer was taken from the train to 
 an ambulance and then to hospital No. 41 in Amiens and 
 thus lost connection with his Company for the next twenty- 
 six days. Second Lieutenant Frank C. Davern assumed 
 command which he held until November 15. Captain Cal- 
 laway was assigned to this Company November 15 and re- 
 lieved November 20. 
 
 The Company on November 11, the date of signing of 
 the Armistice, was still in Corbie under continued training 
 and refitting for the next action. The Company moved from 
 Corbie to Pont de Gennes near Le Mons on November 24, 
 reaching new station next day and are still there on this 
 date. The Company had no men killed in action and only 
 
 270 
 
two wounded as noted above but four deaths resulted from 
 influenza and pneumonia, namely ist Class Sergeant Harold 
 S. Osgood, Corp. James C. Irwin, Privates D. M. Fox and 
 William M. McCabe. 
 
 Note should be taken that this organization, always 
 with the Battalion, never served with the American Army 
 but was first attached to the Second British Army in Bel- 
 gium. Our Division, the 27th American, was associated with 
 the 30th American Division to form the Second American 
 Corps and we fought as such throughout our service. On 
 leaving Belgium we became attached to the Third British 
 Army during the service in the Le Catelet Sector. Then we 
 were moved to the Fourth British Army for the St. Souplet 
 battle. During all of this service we came under a British 
 ruling which forbade all radio stations using the sending side 
 of the sets unless actually holding the front lines. When a 
 relieving organization passed through our lines we had to 
 cease all sending. This ruling caused the loss of much valu- 
 able radio instruction while in back areas for rest and train- 
 ing. Our men had scarcely any acquaintance with the 
 American-French radio instruments except for about a 
 week's instruction while at Beauval and therefore no real 
 comparison can be made between those and the British sets. 
 We know that the |British sets as equipped with carborun- 
 dum detectors and poten tiaometers were a failure with us 
 but by using their step amplifiers, issued with the American 
 sets, as both detector and amplifier we had good results. 
 
 (Signed) Herbert L. Watson, 
 
 Captain, Signal Corps, U. S. A. 
 
 Commanding. 
 
 271 
 
HERBERT COE COLLAR 
 
 Whenever I think of Herbert Collar my mind photo- 
 graphs a scene on a beautiful afternoon in May, 1897. I am 
 sitting in the grandstand of the Worcester Oval at the New 
 England Intercollegiate Meet. Beside me is the charming 
 girl destined later to become Mrs. Collar. Dartmouth is 
 competing, for the first time in years, without the great 
 Stephen Chase. Can we win? The race is hot between 
 Brown and Dartmouth. Comes the "four-forty," one of the 
 last events. Brown pins her hopes on Taft, but the top- 
 heavy favorite is Elliot of Amherst, already winner of the 
 furlong dash, and Collar's cousin. Dartmouth trusts in 
 Collar, an unknown quantity. The race is on; true to form, 
 Elliot, running beautifully, soon assumes what looks to be a 
 safe lead. The half — the three-quarters mark is reached — 
 when look ! What's happening ? Out of the bunch, with a 
 spring and drive as easy and graceful as a greyhound un- 
 leashed, flashes a contender. 
 
 Rapidly he cuts down the lead. Can it be — by Heav- 
 ens, it is Collar ! The girl by my side is tense and beautiful 
 in her excited pride. As they swing into the stretch, he chal- 
 lenges, passes, the faltering Elliot. Taft, too, passes Elliot, 
 but the wearer of the green, with as sustained and beautiful 
 a sprint as I have ever seen, draws away from both, and 
 finishes a comfortable winner in 51 4-5 seconds; remarkable 
 time for that day and that track. The final tally gives Dart- 
 mouth 29; Brown 26, the almost unknown Sophomore had 
 won the meet for Dartmouth! Such was Collar, the ath- 
 lete, in his true form. Unfortunately, his weak digestion 
 impaired his strength, and so Dartmouth lost for the most 
 part the services of one of the best natural runners who 
 ever trod the cinders of the Oval. But that one day made 
 his fame secure in Dartmouth annals. 
 
 I have been going over all our Class reports to visualize 
 his life since '99. A continuous struggle against ill-health ; 
 a constant devotion to the finer things in life, especially 
 
 272 
 
George J. Prescott 
 
 ;'< ;: * r "fa 
 
 Herbert C. Collar 
 
 Herb Wins Quarter 
 Worcester Meet 
 
 Charles A. Folsom 
 
books and music ; glimpses of an ideal home, made even 
 sweeter in these later years by the two children ; an enforced 
 absence from the reunions of the class and college which 
 he loved; an ever-growing sweetness and strength of mind 
 and spirit ; and during the last five years at Buffalo, a very 
 evident increase in comfort and happiness ; such is the wit- 
 ness which they bear to the shadow and sunshine that were 
 his. 
 
 Few of us saw him since he left Boston in 1908, driven 
 from the city by the ill-health which so constantly pursued 
 him; but in spite of this, his letters show that he constantly 
 drew nearer to us in spirit ; and it is a significant and touch- 
 ing thing that one of his last acts in life was to fill out his 
 class reply card, making known his intention to be present 
 at the reunion last June. It was found in his pocket by Mrs. 
 Collar, and sent by her to George Clark. What man among 
 our number would have more thoroughly appreciated the de- 
 lights of those wonderfuJ days, and the sight of the college 
 in its new beauty and strength ! But it was not to be. He 
 was cut down just when he seemed to have surmounted the 
 rough and steep ascents of life, and to have his feet planted 
 firmly on a smoother and sunnier road. Such things are hard 
 to understand. 
 
 But the great inspiration he has left us is the fine spirit 
 of cheerfulness and courage which never deserted him, and 
 which, though he never knew it, has more than once 
 strengthened and helped me ; and so, no doubt, with others. 
 
 The words of the prophet, of which Dr. Tucker is so 
 fond, might well serve as his epitaph : 
 
 "What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, 
 and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ?" 
 
 James P. Richardson. 
 
 273 
 
GEORGE JAMES PRESCOTT 
 
 Born November 7, 1875; married Frances Marie Sar- 
 gent of Maiden April 11, 1906; buried in the Country 
 Cemetery just outside the village of Meredith, New Hamp- 
 shire, as a clear warm November sun was waning over 
 the brown hills, November 16, 1919. Such are the punc- 
 tuation points in a clear onward and upward progressing 
 Hfe. 
 
 Some one wrote : 
 
 "Born, married, buried 
 And life's events 
 May then be hurried 
 Between these rents." 
 
 So it sometimes seems in retrospect, nevertheless we 
 love to gather up the intervening detail, as with George, to 
 give the "last picture" its tone and being. His was a record 
 terse like himself. Born in Meredith, educated in its schools 
 and at New Hampton Institute, he entered Dartmouth in 
 1895 and received the degree of |B. L. with the class of nine- 
 ty-nine. He came with Ted Child from New Hampton, he 
 stayed with Ted in Reed Hall until Richardson was built, 
 whither they moved, and was graduated. Always well 
 groomed, always genial, always given to his courses rather 
 than extra curriculum things, there was the even and one pur- 
 posed tenor to his way through college that continued through 
 post collegiate days, the clerkship with the Western Electric 
 Company at Chicago 1899 to 1901, the apprenticeship with 
 the Boston Rubber Shoe Company at Maiden 'oi to '04, the 
 assistant purchasing agency of the United States Rubber 
 Company in New York City, '04 to '17. It was a steady 
 growing progression. When the war broke out he was 
 buying all the supplies other than the crude rubber needed 
 by the company, millions of yards of sheeting, tons of lith- 
 ard, quantities of lumber for boxes and the many other 
 things required to keep the twenty odd plans of the com- 
 pany going. Under the war conditions the strain became 
 
 274 
 
too severe. His health gave out and in 1917 he was given 
 a six months' leave of absence. He retired to Spring Lake, 
 N. Y., and tried fishing and the outdoors. Later he took his 
 family up to the old house at Meredith and in the fall set- 
 tled down in Maiden. Not growing better he tried a sani- 
 tarium for part of the winter and again in the summer of 
 1918 went to stay at the old house at Meredith. He con- 
 tinued living quietly there, motoring about now and then a 
 little. A severe paralytic shock came to him this fall and 
 about two weeks later, on the afternoon of November 13th, 
 he passed away, leaving his wife and one son, Allen, aged 
 eleven, and his father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. J. I. Pres- 
 cott of Meredith, and his brother, Dr. Charles Prescott, 
 Dartmouth '02. His Ninety-Nine classmates and all who 
 knew him sympathize with them and mourn the race well 
 run but unfinished. 
 
 The picture of him sitting between Bill Wason and 
 "N. P." Brown in the photograph of that remarkable '"99 
 delegation" of the Kappa Kappa Kappa fraternity, with 
 which Ninety-Nine is familiar, his legs crossed, body erect, 
 his right -arm resting on the half turned back of the chair, 
 his keen cut and alert oval face, with its strong mouth and 
 clear eyes looking straight at you, springs into vision. He 
 is there the center of a remarkable group, remarkable as 
 the only freshman fraternity delegation in '99 and probably 
 in its generation that remained intact through college, be- 
 ing graduated as it entered, remarkable for the marked 
 distinction of the achievement of each individual of the 
 group in later life. George Prescott's position of a kind of 
 keystone in this freshman group wfas well maintained 
 throughout the later years. He was first and only a business 
 man, but with the finer qualities of gentlemanliness accom- 
 panying. His gardening confession in the 1915 report to 
 "a shelf of cyclamen, red geraniums and pure white paper 
 narcissus, the last like a bit of clean New Hampshire snow 
 drifted in onto the greenery and snuggled up against my 
 apartment window-panes" suggested that the poetry of the 
 
 275 
 
Northern Hills was there too. His is Death's first pluck- 
 ing in this remarkable group. It seems to take the heart 
 right out of it. 
 
 DR. CHARLES ALBERT FOLSOM 
 
 It is unnecessary, except as a record of our apprecia- 
 tion of Mun, to write anything in regard to his life and 
 achievements. He was too well known and loved, not 
 alone by all of his class, but by men of all classes who 
 knew him in college, to have his memory fade during their 
 lifetime. It seems but yesterday that we cheered his plays 
 on the baseball diamond and proudly said to ourselves, he 
 is one of our class, old '99. 
 
 After graduation Mun continued his studies at the 
 college in the Medical School, then came to Manchester, 
 N. H., as intern at the Sacred Heart Hospital, making 
 friends and delivering the goods, as he always had at col- 
 lege. At the completion of his service at the hospital he 
 took offices in the city and was closely associated with the 
 late James Brown, Dartmouth '92. These offices he con- 
 tinued to hold until, on account of declining health, he was 
 obliged to abandon practice. 
 
 During the time he practiced in Manchester he held 
 many positions of responsibility. He was for several 
 years physician and surgeon to the Hillsborough County 
 Hospital, also surgeon to Manchester Police Relief As- 
 sociation, and was a member of the staff of the Sacred 
 Heart Hospital. 
 
 In June, 1915 he was united in marriage to Miss Mary 
 E. Cronin of Manchester, a graduate of the Sacred Heart 
 Hospital. Her faithful companionship during Mun's years 
 of forced retirement gives a touch of brightness to those 
 last days. 
 
 276 
 
During his practice here Mun was, as in college, modest 
 and unassuming, even to the point of reticence. He was 
 loved and respected by all who knew him and possessed 
 the qualities of the true physician. The thought of self 
 or recompense was always secondary. It was his delight 
 to be able to render aid and comfort, as he expressed it, 
 to God's poor, and this he did ungrudgingly until he was 
 obliged to give up on account of his health. 
 
 He seemed to find his chief pleasure in the pursuit 
 of his profession and the society of a few close friends. 
 He was a great lover of nature and when his health failed 
 he went to live on the old homestead in West Epping, 
 where he seemed to derive a great deal of pleasure from 
 his productive garden, his animals and the general care of 
 the farm. This interest went a long way toward alleviat- 
 ing the worry over his physical ills and the disappointment 
 of not being able to continue his chosen profession. 
 
 Although we knew he was far from well, his death on 
 December 12, 1919, came as a great shock, as reports had 
 been coming in that he was progressively improving. 
 
 In his death '99 has lost a loyal classmate, a staunch 
 friend, an able and upright man. 
 
 David W. Parker. 
 
 277 
 
EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 
 
 J. L. Barney, Treas., 3 Arundel Park, Dorchester, Mass. 
 P. F. Drew, 53 State Street, Boston, Mass. 
 K. Beal, Class Secretary, 55 Botolph Street, Melrose 
 Highlands., Mass. 
 
 E, W. Barstow, Ex-Secretary, 197 Marion Street, 
 Springfield, Mass. 
 
 C. H. Donahue, Ex-Secretary, 18 Tremont Street, Bos- 
 ton, Mass. 
 
 G. G. Clark, Ex-Secretary, 6o State Street, Boston, 
 Mass. 
 
 CLASS FUND COMMITTEE 
 
 T. A. Lynch, Agent, 17 Alban Street, Dorchester, Mass. 
 A. M. Abbott, i Myrtle Ave., Plainfield, N. J. 
 O. A. Hoban, 65 Graham Street, Gardner, Mass. 
 W. B. Hodgkins, Phoenix, Arizona. 
 
 ADDRESSES 
 
 Alson Morgan Abbott, Stockbroker 
 
 Bus: c/o Paine Webber Co., 25 Broad St., New York 
 
 Res : 1 Myrtle Ave., Plainfield, N. J. 
 Arthur Jackson Abbott, Painter and Decorator 
 
 Bus: 50-56 Manchester St., Manchester, N. H. 
 
 Res : 788 Chestnut St., Manchester, N. H. 
 Ernest Albert Abbott, Securities Examiner 
 
 Bus : % Federal Farm Loan Board 
 
 6th Floor, Bond Bldg., Washington, D. C. 
 Charles Ezra Adams, Bookkeeper 
 
 Bus : c/o Guernsey Bros. Co., 16 Church St., Keene, 
 N. H. 
 
 Res : 145 Court St., Keene, N. H. 
 
 278 
 
Winburn Bowdoin Adams, Salesman 
 
 Bus : Atwood Auto Lamp Co., 683 Beacon St., Boston 
 
 Res : 457 Columbia Rd., Dorchester 
 Edwin Lawrence Allen, Chemist 
 
 Bus : The Daggett Chocolate Co., 35 Lewis Wharf, 
 Boston 
 
 Res: 16 Woodland St., Arlington, Mass. 
 K. Asakawa, Asst. Prof, and Curator, Yale Univ. 
 
 1 141 Yale Station, New Haven, Conn. 
 John William Ash, Civil Engineer and Contractor 
 
 611 S. 2nd St., Corvallis, Ore. 
 
 William Thompson Atwood, Lawyer 
 Bus : 60 State St., (Boston 
 Res : 70 E, Emerson St., Melrose, Mass. 
 
 Herbert Myron Bailey, Builder 
 
 Bus : Springfield, Mass. 
 
 Res : 547 Riverdale St., W. Springfield, Mass. 
 Edward Grout Baldwin 
 James Leonard Barney, Secretary of Pope Lumber Co. 
 
 Bus : c/o Pope Lumber Co., 210 Freeport St., 
 Dorchester, Mass. 
 
 Res : 3 Arundel Park, Dorchester, Mass. 
 Elmer Williams Barstow, Principal 
 
 Bus : Burrows Grammar School, Springfield, Mass. 
 
 Res: 197 Marion St., Springfield 
 Kenneth Beal, Teacher 
 
 Bus : Mechanic Arts High School, Boston, Mass. 
 
 Res: 55 Botolph St., Melrose Hlds., Mass. 
 Louis Paul Benezet, Supt. of Schools, Evansville, Ind. 
 
 Res : 806 Riverside Ave., Evansville, Ind. 
 Henry John Berger, Editor 
 
 Bus: c/o Lockwood Trade Journal, 10 E. 39th St., 
 New York City 
 
 Res : 561 W. 152nd St., New York City 
 
 279 
 
Charles Walter Bonney, Physician 
 
 Bus: 1 1 17 Spruce St., Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
 Res : 927 Clinton St., Philadelphia 
 Albert Warren Boston, Principal 
 
 Bus : Caribou High School, Caribou, Me. 
 Arthur Hayward Brown, Automobiles 
 
 Erie, Pa. 
 Nelson Pierce Brown, Judge of Superior Corn of Mass. 
 
 Bus : Court House, Boston, Mass. 
 
 Res : 186 Linden St., Everett, Mass. 
 Samuel Burns, Jr., Investment Securities 
 
 Bus : c/o Burns, Brinker & Co., S. W. Corner 17th 
 and Douglas Streets, Ground Floor, Brandeis 
 Theatre Bldg., Omaha, Neb. 
 
 Res : 430 South 40th St., Omaha 
 Homer Stephen Carr, Physician 
 
 210 Broadway, Niles, Mich. 
 Philip Worcester Carson, Real Estate 
 
 Perm. Address : Randolph, N. Y. 
 Major Frank William Cavanaugh, 
 
 Res : 144 Chandler St., Worcester, Mass. 
 Hawley Barnard Chase, Principal 
 
 Bus : Franklin Grammar School, Stamford, Conn. 
 
 Res : 213 Summer St., Stamford 
 Theodore Woolsey Chase, President 
 
 Bus : Passumpsic Fibre Leather Co., Passumpsic, Vt. 
 
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 Sergt. James Dwight Child 
 
 % American Consul's Office, Alle Tourney, Bordeaux, 
 France 
 George Gallup Clark, Lawyer 
 
 Bus : 60 State St., Boston 
 
 Res: 71 Mt. Vernon St., Boston, and R. F. D. 1, Ply- 
 mouth, N. H. 
 Thomas Cogswell, Actor 
 
 241 West 43rd St., New York Citj 
 
 Perm. Address: Plainfield, Vt. 
 
 280 
 
William Joseph Colbert, ex-Dean College Liberal Arts, 
 Univ. of Philippines 
 Res: 677 Dennett St., Portsmouth, N. H. 
 
 Herbert Coe Collar, Deceased 
 Guy Edminston Corey, Lawyer 
 
 Bus : 73 Congress St., Portsmouth, N. H. 
 
 Res : 464 Middle St., Portsmouth 
 Robert Edward Croker, Bookkeeper 
 
 Res: 419 Broad St., E. Weymouth, Mass. 
 Frederick Joseph Crolius, Asst. Engineer 
 
 Bus : c/o Carnegie Steel Co., Munhall, Pa. 
 Charles Newton Currier, Foreman 
 
 Bus : c/o Gray & Davis, Inc., Amesbury, Mass. 
 
 Res : Box 57, Amesbury 
 Charles Elliot Cushman, Pnysician 
 
 Bus: Suite 32, Auditorium Bldg., Chicago, 111. 
 
 Res : Illinois Athletic Club, Chicago 
 Her*y Hale Dearborn, Physician 
 
 Res: 25 Nashua St., Milford, N. H. 
 Jesse Judson Dearborn, Deceased 
 
 Maurice Woodbury Dickey, News Editor 
 
 Bus : c/o Springfield Morning Union, Springfield, 
 Mass. 
 
 Res: 116 Princeton St., Springfield 
 Charles Henry Donahue, Lawyer 
 
 Bus : 18 Tremont St., Boston 
 
 Res : 10 Centervale Park, Dorchester 
 Percy Greenough Drake, Medical Director 
 
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 York City 
 
 Res : 790 Riverside Drive, New York City 
 Pitt Fessenden Drew, Lawyer 
 
 Bus : 53 State St., Boston, Mass. 
 
 Res : 2.y Grove Hill Ave., Newtonville, Mass. 
 
 281 
 
John Henry DuBois, Insurance 
 
 Pus: i Main St., Randolph, Vt. 
 Earl Eastman, Deceased 
 
 Walter Roy Eastman, Gen. Passenger Agt., Central Vt. & 
 Grand Trunk Rys. 
 
 Bus: 510 Old South Bldg., ,Boston 
 
 Res : 24 Botolph St., Melrose Hlds., Mass. 
 William Francis Eaton, Sporting Editor 
 
 Bus: Geo. Batten Adv. Co., Room 11 19, 381 Fourth 
 Ave., New York City 
 
 Perm. Address: 24 Pearl St., Medford, Mass. 
 George Hill Evans, Librarian 
 
 Bus : Somerville Public Library, Somerville, Mass. 
 
 Res: 11 Park Aye., Somerville, Mass. 
 Charles Albert Folsom, Deceased 
 Daniel Ford, Asst. Prof, of Rhetoric 
 
 Bus : c/o University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. 
 
 Res: 113 State St., Minneapolis, Minn. 
 Walter Andrew Foss 
 Harold Oscar French, Chief Clerk 
 
 Bus : c/o Fairbanks Scale Co., St. Johnsbury, Vt. 
 
 Res : 14 Summer St., St. Johnsbury, Vt. 
 Montie John Baker Fuller, Clergyman 
 
 Res: New Marlboro, Mass. 
 Albert Leet Galusha, Manufacturer Gas Producers 
 
 Bus: 11 Elkins St., South poston, Mass. 
 
 Res : Box 457, Sharon, Mass. 
 
 Joseph William Gannon, President and Manager 
 
 Bus : J. W. Gannon, Inc., Advertising Agency, 220 
 
 Fifth Avenue, New York City 
 Res: 405 Park St., Montclair, N. J. 
 
 Capt. Gordon Hall Gerould, Prof. English, Princeton Univ. 
 Res: 341 Nassau St., Princeton, N. J. 
 
 282 
 
Albert Henry Greenwood, Consulting Engineer 
 
 Bus : Greenwood & Noerr, 847 Main St., Hartford, 
 Conn. 
 
 Res : 588 Broadview Terrace, Hartford 
 Everett Vinton Hardwick, Physician 
 
 Res: 43 Algonquin St., Dorchester, Mass. 
 Joseph Henry Hartley, Clerk 
 
 Res: 423 Elm St., Arlington, N. J. 
 Ralph Wilson Hawkes, President 
 
 Bus : c/o Holbrook Mills Co., Millbury, Mass. 
 Augustine Ledru Heywood, Draftsman 
 
 Bus : American Steel & Wire Co., Worcester, Mass. 
 
 Res: 10 Oread St., Worcester 
 Owen Albert Hoban, Lawyer 
 
 Bus : Gardner Nat. Bank Block, Gardner, Mass. 
 
 Res : 65 Graham St., Gardner 
 Joseph Wilson Hobbs, Teacher of English 
 
 Bus : Boston Latin School, Boston 
 
 Res: 16 Glenville Ave., Allston, Mass. 
 Willis Bradlee Hodgkins, Proprietor Hotel 
 
 Washington Hotel, Phoenix, Arizona 
 
 P.O. Box 1008, Phoenix, Arizona 
 Arthur Warren Hopkins, Physician 
 
 West Swanzey, N. H. 
 Neal Luther Hoskins, Physician 
 
 Bus: 641-65 David Whitney Bldg., Detroit, Mich. 
 
 Res: 135 Monterey St., Detroit, Mich. 
 George Laurie Huckins, Asst. Engineer 
 
 Bus : B. & M. R. R., Room 304, North Station, Boston 
 
 Res : 106 Walton Park, Melrose Highlands 
 William Loveland Hutchinson, Farming 
 
 Cecil, Washington Co., Pa. 
 Edwin Arnold Hyatt, Physician 
 
 Bus : 5 Maiden Lane, St. Albans, Vt. 
 
 Res: 29 Bank St., St. Albans, Vt. 
 
 2S3 
 
Arthur Pearl Irving, Furniture 
 
 Bus : Irving & Casson, 573 BoyLston St., Boston, Mass. 
 
 Res : 1 Warwick Place, Winchester 
 Robert Philbrick Johnston, Vice-President 
 
 Bus : Stratton & Co., Concord, N. H. 
 Wesley William Jordan 
 
 Res : The Magnolia, Beacon, N. Y., P. O. Box H, Bea- 
 con, N. Y. 
 Clarence Lovell Joy, Principal 
 
 Pus : Hartford High School, Hartford, Vt. 
 
 Res : Maple St., White River Jet., Vt. 
 Warren Cleaveland Kendall, Manager Car Service Section, 
 Transportation U. S. R. R. Adm. 
 
 Bus: 718 1 8th St., Washington, D. C. 
 
 Res : 1800 Lamont St., Washington, D. C. 
 Arthur Elwin Kimball 
 
 1 199 Stevenson Ave., Pasadena, Cal. 
 Harold Bruce Kirk, Traveling Salesman 
 
 Bus : c/o Universal Portland Cement Co., 208 So. La 
 Salle St., Chicago 
 Peter Henry Lane, Physician 
 
 Bus: 218 So. 16th St., Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
 Res : 186 Bethlehem Pike, Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia, 
 Pa. 
 Alvin Benton Leavitt, Dentist 
 
 435 Fort Washington Ave., New York City 
 Fred Ford Locke, Asst., Planning Dept. 
 
 Bus : U. S. Navy Yard, Portsmouth, N. H. 
 
 Res : Kittery, Me. 
 Theobald Andrew Lynch, Sub-Master 
 
 Bus : Bigelow Grammar School, So. Boston, Mass. 
 
 Res: 17 Alban St., Dorchester, Mass. 
 
 Herbert Leslie Lyster, Mgr. of Creamery 
 Bus : Wells River, Vt. 
 
 284 
 
Leon Alonzo Martin 
 
 Perm. Address: c/o Mrs. L. A. Martin, Unity, Me. 
 Charles Oscar Miller, Sec. and Treas. 
 
 Bus : C. O. Miller Co., Atlantic Sq., Stamford, Conn. 
 
 Res : Revonah Manor, Stamford, Conn. 
 Herbert Adolphus Miller, Professor of Sociology, Oberlin 
 Univ. 
 
 Res: 124 Morgan St., Oberlin, O. 
 Frank Abbott Musgrove, Proprietor Dart. Press 
 
 Hanover, N. H. 
 Arthur Henry Whitely Norton, Bookkeeper 
 
 Bus : Frost Nat. <Bank, San Antonio, Texas 
 
 Res: R. F. D. 1, Box 12 D, San Antonio, Texas 
 Edward Lucius Nye, Insurance 
 
 Bus: 407 Chamber of Commerce Bldg., Rochester, 
 New York. 
 Luther Stevens Oakes, Contractor, Winston Bros. 
 
 Bus : 801 Globe Bldg., Minneapolis, Minn. 
 
 Res : 417 Holly Ave., St. Paul, Minn. 
 Paul Moody Osgood, Chemist 
 
 Bus : North Packing & Provision Co., Somerville, 
 Mass., Box 5247 
 
 Res: Hotel Woodbridge, Somerville 
 William Daniel O'Sullivan, Auto Accessories 
 
 Res : 340 Haverhill St., Lawrence, Mass. 
 Capt. David Woodbury Parker, Physician 
 
 Bus : 967 Elm St., Manchester, N. H. 
 
 Res : 52 Charles St., Manchester 
 Ralph Wheelwright Payne, Prop. Drug Store 
 
 Greenfield, Mass. 
 Raymond Pearl, Professor, Johns Hopkins Univ. 
 
 Bus: Baltimore, Md. 
 George James Prescott, Deceased 
 Herbert Wood Rice, Farming 
 
 Henniker, N. H. 
 
 285 
 
James Parmelee Richardson, Prof, of Law, Dartmouth 
 
 . Res : Choate Rd., Hanover, N. H. 
 Charles Ingraham Risley 
 
 Racine Rubber Tire Co. 
 
 Bus: 10 Central Park, West, New York City 
 
 Res : Pleasantville, N. Y. 
 Herbert Spencer Rogers, Commercial Representative 
 
 Bus: N. E. Tel. & Tel. Co., 119 Milk St., Boston, Mass. 
 
 Res : 53 Thurston Rd., Newton Upper Falls 
 George Munroe Rounds, Social Investigator, Ford Motor 
 Co. 
 
 Res: 107 Hancock Ave., West, Detroit, Mich. 
 Robert Gordon Rowe, Supt. Labor 
 
 Bus : U. S. Navy Yard, Portsmouth, N. H. 
 
 Res : 536 Middle Rd. 
 Maj. Frederic Rodney Sanborn 
 
 Perm. Address : 341 W. 85 St., New York City 
 John Leonard Sanborn, Supt. of Construction, N. Y., N. H 
 & H. R. R. 
 
 Res : 146 Water St., New Haven, Conn. 
 Moses Motley Sargent, Investment Securities 
 
 Res: 731 County St., New Bedford, Mass. 
 Horace Holmes Sears, Civil Engineer, N. Y , N. H. & H. 
 R. R. 
 
 Bus : 89 Liberty St., New York 
 
 Res : 404 Union St., W. Haven, Conn. 
 Maj. Millard Freeman Sewall, Physician 
 
 195 E. Commerce St., Bridgeton, N. J. 
 Ernest Leroy Silver, Principal Plymouth Normal School. 
 
 Plymouth, N. H. 
 Edward Raymond Skinner, Division Supt.'s Assistant 
 
 Bus: American Optical Co., Southbridge, Mass. 
 
 Res : 19 Marcy St. Ext., Southbridge 
 Alvah Guy Sleeper, Lawyer 
 
 Bus : 1045 Tremont Bldg., Boston 
 
 Res : 174 Morrison Ave., Somerville 
 
 286 
 
Samuel Justin Smith, Civil Engineer 
 
 Bus : c/o Woodbury Service, Inc., Room 2233, Park 
 Row Bldg, New York 
 
 Perm. Address : Windsor, Vt. 
 Guy Edwin Speare, Supt. of Schools, Littleton and Bethle- 
 hem, N. H. 
 
 Res: Littleton, N. H. 
 Frank Clarence Staley, War Risk Bureau of Treas. Dept. 
 
 Bus: The Portner, 15th & U Sts., Washington, D. C. 
 Adna David Storrs, Mgr. Book Store 
 
 Hanover, N. H. 
 Charles Chase Sturtevant, Bookkeeper 
 
 Bus : Keene Nat. Bank, Keene, N. H. 
 
 Res: 112 Washington St., Keene, N. H. 
 Frank Miller Surrey, Teacher 
 
 Bus : Morris High School, New York City 
 
 Res : 593 Riverside Drive, New York City 
 Howard Murray Tibbetts, Registrar Dartmouth College 
 
 Hanover, N. H. 
 Albert Ballard Tootell, Teaching 
 
 Bus : Great Falls High School, Great Falls, Montana 
 
 Perm. Address : Simms, Montana 
 Lucius Everett Varney, Patent Lawyer 
 
 Bus : 149 Broadway, New York City 
 
 Res : 44 W. 44th St., New York City 
 James Brackett Creighton Walker, Lumbering 
 
 Lee, N. H. 
 Fred Austin Walker, Lawyer 
 
 Bus : 340 Main St., Worcester, Mass. 
 
 Res : 29 ShafTner St., Worcester 
 Edward Beaumond Wardle, Chief Engineer, Laurentide Co., 
 Ltd. 
 
 Grand Mere, P. Q., Canada 
 Harry Alexander Wason, Southern Sales Mgr. 
 
 Bus : J. A. Roebling Sons Co., Atlanta, Ga., Box 924 
 
 Res: 70 St. Charles Ave., Atlanta 
 
 287 
 
Capt. Herbert Leslie Watson, Civil Engineer 
 
 Bus : c/o George F. Hardy, 309 Broadway, New York 
 Present Location: Manistique Pulp and Paper Co., 
 
 Manistique, Mich. 
 Perm. Address: 1307 Boulevard, New Haven, Conn. 
 
 Thomas Tupper Whittier, Civil Engineer 
 Bus: 309 Broadway, New York City 
 Res : 30 Sidney Place, Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
 Arthur Dean Wiggin, Supt. of Schools, Windham No' west 
 Dist. 
 So. Londonderry, Vt. 
 
 Harley Richard Willard, Prof. Mathematics, Univ. of 
 Maine 
 
 Orono, Maine 
 Philip Harold Winchester, Division Engineer 
 
 St. Lawrence Division, N. Y. C. & H. R. R. R. 
 
 Res: 303 Ten Eyck St., Watertown, N. Y. 
 Leon E. Woodman, Prof. Physics, Univ. of Missouri 
 (School of Mines and Metallurgy) 
 
 Res : Rolla, Missouri 
 Walter Carleton Woodward, Physician 
 
 ,Bus: 702-7 Cobb Bldg., Seattle, Wash. 
 
 Res: 724 17th St., No., Seattle 
 
 288 
 
THE DARTMOUTH 
 SESQUI - CENTENNIAL 
 
 TO WHICH 
 
 THE '99 VICENNIAL 
 
 WAS 
 
 THE CURTAIN RAISER 
 
THE SESQUI-CENTENNIAL SEEN THROUGH '99 EYES 
 
 "Little of all we value here . 
 
 Wakes on the m'orn of its hundredth year 
 
 Without both feeling and looking queer ; 
 ^ ^ * * * 
 
 A general flavor of mild decay, 
 Put nothing local as one may say." 
 But these symptoms of senility and approaching disso- 
 lution we assume to be outgrown if by good fortune or by 
 native virility or by extraordinary care the subject in ques- 
 tion survives its hundredth birthday and so with a painful 
 indifference to poetic precedent tucks on another half cen- 
 tury to its accumulated age. At any rate, whatever the 
 nature of storm and wind that caused a partial collapse of 
 the shelter provided in 1869 for Dartmouth's hundredth 
 anniversary, it was but a flurry of the elements and utterly 
 unable to disrupt that which was more elemental than it- 
 self, — namely, Dartmouth College. 
 
 And surely those of us who were fortunate enough to 
 return to Hanover in October for part of the Sesqui-Cen- 
 tennial celebration, were aware only of immense growth, 
 the full vigor of mature life, and the evident signs on every 
 hand of an incalculable development ahead. 
 
 The noon train from Boston was met at Lebanon by a 
 troop of twenty autos under the hospitable direction of the 
 Lebanon Chamber of Commerce. By this means a portion 
 of the returning alumni, the '99 secretary and ex-secretary 
 among them, were comfortably and speedily swept under 
 clear New Hampshire skies and beneath leafless or bril- 
 liantly yellow-foliaged trees over the five mile road into 
 Hanover. Main Street was alive with bareheaded upper 
 classmen, and Freshmen obediently covered with the pre- 
 
 291 
 
scribed green skull cap with its white dot of a button, 
 while alumni autos parked up and down both south and 
 west sides of the Campus, or swerved and darted on every 
 side of the solitary but desperately efficient traffic cop by 
 the Inn. 
 
 Here is Jim Richardson in professional conference at 
 the Campus edge, but with time for a friendly greeting, 
 and here at the book store, Dave. Over there on the south- 
 eastern corner of the Campus is one of the great Ringling 
 Brothers' circus tents, rising like a huge ship, its body and 
 outline strangely melting as dusk came on into the darkness 
 above it, like mist swept in from the ocean. Flying high 
 above it are two American flags. 
 
 We have safely stowed our belongings in Massachu- 
 setts Hall, but its familiar porch is like some banquet hall 
 deserted, and through its lower corridors still romp and sing 
 familiar shadows and voices of a Junetide only four months 
 back. 
 
 The bright glow of the fall sunset becomes grey, the 
 lights of dormitories and halls shine out in a cheery circle 
 about the Campus. On the east the trio of old halls are 
 outlined brightly by electric lights, with Dartmouth's illu- 
 minated belfry gracefully rising in their midst ; to the north 
 the high deep portico of Webster Hall shines white ; to the 
 south the Inn is a mellow hive of light. Dark forms begin 
 to gather, clumps and groups pass indistinctly back and 
 forth. Almost we expect to hear that ancient autumn cry 
 of "Football, Freshie" ! echoing its blood-curdling threat. 
 
 But instead in friendly and lean ranks united for self- 
 assertion, fragments of '98 — Patey, Seelman, Roberts, Crow- 
 ley ; and '00 — Teague, Atwood, Ham, MacDavitt, Downing ; 
 and '01 — Warren, Krone; and '99 combined to give in turn 
 the war cry : 
 
 "'98 up! '98 up! — - 
 '99 up! '99 up! — 
 'oo up ! '00 up ! — 
 'oi up! '01 up!" Rapidly around 
 
 292 
 
lis swell the dark forms of other classes with friendly chaff- 
 ing finding their orderly place. A band swings into line, — 
 white duck trousers and green sweaters make them a strik- 
 ing and visible head of the dark-hued procession. The line 
 begins to move, first cumbrously and uncertainly like a tor- 
 pid boa-constrictor, then at the north torches flare up. We 
 move in that direction, — barrels full of them ! With a hun- 
 dred criss-cross motions we light each other's. Now the line 
 is in regular swaying motion, south the length of the Cam- 
 pus on the Commons side, then east past the Inn and the 
 great shiplike phantom tent, north on the east side, the line 
 of lights twinkling behind us like vast stretches of candela- 
 bra almost encircling the Campus. Northward still past Rol- 
 lins Chapel in whose dimly lighted tower while the bells 
 peal out madly we see shadows of strenuous forms wildly 
 pulling at the ropes. Up we wind along Prexy Hopkins' 
 driveway, cheering him and his family as they stand to 
 greet us on the piazza; passing west back to Main Street, 
 the weaving line of lights behind like a caravan of desert 
 pilgrims, with a cheer for dear old Gabe as we pass, and a 
 shout for Jim Barney and Hobe with Bill Atwood and Ro- 
 bie as we see them rushing a big Boston-Dartmouth Club 
 transparency into the procession ; another shout for Mushie 
 as he greets us with his family from his auto by the road- 
 side, snatching a five minute glimpse only from the driving 
 summons of 285 jobs simultaneously on hand. 
 
 Then comes a sudden change. Around the edge of the 
 Campus, but this side of the tent, springs into outline a 
 great square of blue flaring lights. The torches are extin- 
 guished and we cross diagonally the magic square of blue 
 to enter the bright portal of the tent. 
 
 At the front, where the animals ought to be, is a plat- 
 form with Faculty, speakers, Glee-Club, and dignitaries. 
 Cheer leaders uneasily wav.e their huge megaphones, like 
 great ears, waiting the occasion for their vociferous use. 
 Rapidly the tent fills up, — every seat is taken, the freshmen 
 crowd the standing room behind to the very canvas. 
 
 293 
 
Then silence as President Hopkins steps forward, a 
 slience to be sharply broken as the cheer leaders suddenly 
 bid the crowd greet him with a "Wah-Hoo-Wah." And 
 Dartmouth night is on ! 
 
 We need not summarize in detail the speeches of the 
 evening. There are announcements about the size of the class 
 of 1923, — 667, the bigp-est registration in the country; greet- 
 ings from Edward Tuck by cable ; from the Ohio Alumni, 
 from the Episcopal Convention in Connecticut, from Omaha, 
 from Pittsburg, and a dozen others ; and from Atlanta, — 
 the first Alumni gathering south of Mason and Dixon's line. 
 This last reads: "From Atlanta to the sea Dartmouth is 
 marching on." And there is an unsolicited and unexpected 
 telegram tribute and friendly greeting from the Department 
 of the Interior, Bureau of Education. 
 
 The tent we are told is a metaphysical puzzle, for, 
 though by actual measurement 25 per cent larger than the 
 one used in 1869, it seats only 3,000, while that is traditional- 
 ly reputed to have accommodated 10,000! 
 
 There is a rising and a rousing cheer for venerable 
 Joab Patterson, i860, Honorary Marshal, the actual Mar- 
 shal in charge in i869; and for Morrill Gallagher, 1907 
 Sesqui-Centennial Alumni Marshal. Another reverberat- 
 ing cheer for 1923, the reckless cheer leaders' megaphones 
 bounding topsy-turvy down the stage steps, and here is 
 Samuel L. Powers, 1874, the first speaker of the evening. 
 
 He intimates that he has a habit of coming to Dart- 
 mouth celebrations at least once in every fifty years, — was 
 there in '69, but has no recollection of being there in 1819, 
 in fact doubts if he was invited. He remembers at the 
 Centennial the presence of General Sherman on the stage 
 at the right of the Chief Justice. There was a poem read by 
 some distinguished alumnus, he says, an ominous event for 
 some reason, followed by rain, wind, thunder, and a collaps- 
 ing tent. General Sherman beat the first retreat of his life — 
 under the platform. Judge David Cross of sainted memory, 
 
 294 
 
1841, would have been one hundred if he had lived until the 
 Sesqui-Centennial. Before Dartmouth asked Mr. Powers, 
 Judge Cross had asked him to dine in Hanover at this time. 
 Mr. Powers went on to compare old times and new, — in 
 those earlier days with 80 per cent of the students from 
 New Hampshire and Vermont, now with less than half the 
 Freshman class even from New England. In those earlier 
 days also the President of the College was ex-ofhcio Chief 
 of Police as well. A deficient or recalcitrant boy was not 
 sent home. No, the College prided itself on reforming and 
 educating every youngster sent to its guardianship. So in 
 case of misconduct, the erring one was farmed out to a coun- 
 try clergyman for from three to six weeks. After that the 
 dilinquent scholar seemed invariably thankful and glad to 
 ; perform his full duty in Hanover proper. Mr. Powers closed 
 his address by calling attention to the fact that Dartmouth 
 night was in effect Freshman night and wished the Fresh- 
 men were all down front instead of standing in the rear. 
 
 The Glee Club took its turn at reminiscing, dropping 
 into the chatty tune of "Eleazar Wheelock was a very pi- 
 ous man." After they had hammered out the historical facts 
 of Eleazar's ancient curriculum and the Indian Chief's ma- 
 triculation, President Hopkins introduced as representing a 
 class that produces in great abundance "governors and con- 
 gressmen and all such truck," — Matt B. Jones of 1894. 
 
 Mr. Jones had spoken previously at the first Dartmouth 
 Night in 1895 when Doctor Tucker inaugurated the cus- 
 tom of such a celebration. On that occasion, with a class- 
 mate, Matt dropped into his old Math class to visit. Their 
 presence created a slight disturbance. The Professor, both- 
 ered by his students' inattention, remarked, "O, don't mind 
 these gentlemen ; they're only two fellows who flunked this 
 course in Freshman year and are back to make it up." He 
 hazarded the guess that likewise he must have flunked his 
 other speech and was being given this opportunity to make 
 it up. Getting down to the serious part of his talk he em- 
 phasized the fact that a man's kingdom consists not of 
 
 295 
 
what he has but of what he does. A facsimile of anything 
 in life is not worth the winning, only the original counts. 
 Dartmouth is a factory, its men are its raw material. A 
 knowledge of books and of the graces of life will help in 
 the finished product, but nothing else is of much consequence 
 if first of all men do not learn to live clean and think 
 straight. 
 
 Dave Maloney '97 pictured a boy (evidently himself) 
 while working at his loom suddenly summoned by his father 
 to go to Dartmouth. His memory traveled back to the first 
 trip across the historic bridge, and then in a flash to his first 
 meeting with Doctor Tucker, and to that great man's kindly 
 words : "My boy, prove to your folks that you are worth the 
 sacrifice they are making for you." So with a facetious fling 
 at the arrival in his day of open plumbing in Hanover he 
 passed to an analysis of the Dartmouth Spirit as one of co- 
 operation and service, of friendliness and kindness ; a spirit 
 that says, "Let's do something together," or in Doctor 
 Tucker's words to '97 on their graduation, "Keep yourselves 
 unspotted from the world, but let the world feel your 
 power." 
 
 It was at this point that President Hopkins announced 
 that due to overwork on his great autobiographical volume 
 "My Generation," Doctor Tucker was too sick that night 
 even to have the procession pass his house. And a rousing 
 cheer, twice over, echoed the love of Dartmouth men for 
 their revered leader. 
 
 President Benjamin Marshall '97 of the Connecticut 
 College of Women was the fourth and last speaker. His 
 most notable utterance was a tribute to Doctor Tucker, with 
 whom '97 entered Dartmouth and whose head is carved on 
 their class medallion. "Born again," he pictured the stu- 
 dents of Doctor Tucker's time, "as that great man looked 
 you straight in the face with that fine glint of the eye, and 
 with the only gesture he ever used handed out to his hearers 
 some pearl of great price, some nugget of gold, some bit of 
 truth, imperishable and dynamic." 
 
 296 
 
Out on the Campus in the clear crisp night air, — fire- 
 works. Showers of stars like golden falling maple leaves, 
 dull bursting bombs, snake-sputters of brightness darting 
 zigzag like water bugs on quiet pools, clusters and umbrella- 
 sprays of colored lights, soft bursts of blue and red and yel- 
 low. 
 
 Then Scotty's, the inevitable Scotty's. And Ralph 
 Hawkes, Dave Parker and Joe Gannon with their wives, 
 and the other Ninety-niners already mentioned, — with the 
 familiar cream bottles, the doughnuts, and the sandwiches. 
 A miniature Ninety-nine re-reunion in the midst of the 
 bigger Dartmouth ,Birthday. 
 
 As with '99 at the Vicennial in June, so now in October 
 at the Sesqui-Centennial the weather held ideal. After an 
 early river fog the next morning that swathed the Campus 
 in a chill quilt of white out of which the big tent loomed 
 more like a ghostly ship than ever, the sun came out strong 
 and clear, though still leaving a spicy and invigorating tang 
 in the air. In the familiar way, however, first we ran across 
 to Chapel, while the bell tolled nearer and nearer its last 
 relentless stroke and slipped into the far back seats. A mod- 
 ern Dartmouth. "Daily Dartmouths" in the students' hands, 
 distributed thus early by an unheard of enterprise; stacks of 
 telltale attendance cards filled out and collected at the door 
 in place of the old neck-craning monitors ; extended depth of 
 wings and nave so that President Hopkins as he read seemed 
 to stand at a remote distance; and out at the corner by the 
 Chapel the sign with arrow pointing north, "Bretton 
 Woods." All quiet but convincing evidences that out of the 
 old Dartmouth, secluded, separate, and small, has been born 
 a vaster institution, teeming and growing, and reaching out 
 in easy and almost daily contact with the greater world 
 without. 
 
 Such too is the story of the Outing Club with its chain 
 of cabins, trails, and systematic hikes. Moose Mountain 
 cabin 7 miles away, beyond Etna and Hanover Center, 
 
 297 
 
was the center of college hospitality on Saturday. Stories of 
 roast pig that made one's mouth water and one's mind 
 tingle with recollections of Lamb's solemn dissertation 
 roused the old migratory and predatory instincts of twenty 
 years ago. And though many went by auto and some of '99's 
 delegation remained sitting in solemn conclave in Norwich 
 Inn to keep watch while the ladies slept, and to lay grave 
 plans for vast endowments of the future William Jewett 
 Tucker Memorial Library, others took the ancient and time- 
 honored shank's mare route past Culver, Type's and Char- 
 lie Darwin's up the hill past Balch's with the glorious view 
 back from above over the valley. Under yellow birches and 
 golden maples, beyond the Etna Road into the pasture up- 
 land to a huge white birch looking down upon a forest of 
 blue-green pines ; and everywhere luring on from stonewall, 
 tree, and boulder, the Outing Club symbol of the red circle 
 with a slash of white above and below. Phil Patey '98 and 
 his endless stream of cheery reminiscence ; big Meat Hanlon 
 '03 stripping in succession coat, vest, sweater, — and bare- 
 armed perspiring still; Runlett '16 overtaking to guide the 
 party along his favorite trail ; George Clark in heavy walk- 
 ing boots as sprightly as though he had never heard of such 
 a thing as sprained ankles, and eagerly piecing together from 
 turnpike and disused lane the historic "College Road" that 
 was laid out by Governor Wentworth when he came from 
 Centre Harbor to Hanover's first Commencement, and that 
 still runs past George's Plymouth farm. Up springy, marshy 
 paths, across hillside potato fields, over brooks, pastures and 
 wood lots, beyond the autos parked in the uplands, one-half 
 mile further, part way up Moose Mountain, — we are at the 
 Cabin with its field-stone chimney, huge hearth, overhead 
 bunks; and out-of-doors seats invitingly blanketed and 
 cushioned. Here is the cider keg, and there in turn laid out 
 are piles of rosy apples, plates, silver, mounds of bread, 
 pyramids of butter pats, great pails of baked sweet pota- 
 toes, sliced savory pig, apple sauce by the gallon, mustard, 
 coffee, and huge quarters of mince pie. After din- 
 
 298 
 
tier a half mile climb to West View under escort of Carl 
 Shumway '13 back from aviation duty on the Irish and Eng- 
 lish Coasts and one of the original founders of the Cabin 
 and the Club. To the west the graceful outline of Ascut- 
 ney and the rolling range of the Green Mountains, to the 
 south Cardigan flanked and backed by brother peaks. We 
 have just begun to live. 
 
 But it is only an incident. We are flying back with 
 Edgerton '06, the man who makes a "Reo act like a Pack- 
 ard," swooping endlessly down hill, glimpsing a score of old 
 familiar landmarks, coasting down, down past Balch's, and 
 here's the crowd again, headed for the Athletic Field. 
 
 But it is not the purpose of this account to tell in lavish 
 detail all the incidents that remain. Just beyond, in inimit- 
 able fashion, George has given the story of the ceremonies 
 of Monday, the heart of the Sesqui-Centennial. Briefly 
 then to close this introductory portion. 
 
 After Penn State had given the huge Dartmouth crowd 
 every kind of thrill possible, its marvellous half Way run- 
 ning the first kickoff back for a touchdown, — and later, still' 
 in the first period, dashing 80 yards through the whole op- 
 posing team with a fumbled ball for another score, the 
 Dartmouth eleven with a courage unequalled fought through 
 to a victorious conclusion, 19-13. Heartbreaking and soul- 
 satisfying. 
 
 Evening brought the revival of the "Founders." Here 
 Sleep first appeared on the '99 horizon to see "Skeet" the 
 Medicine Man make his futile attempt to compel the white 
 captive girl, daughter of the chief of the Wah-hoo-wahs, to 
 marry him. John Wheelock, son of Eleazer, bargains with 
 the Indians for some two hundred to forty thousand acres 
 of land for a school that he may teach Indians to be happy 
 and prosperous without labor. But Occom considers him- 
 self happy and idle already, a condition needing no grants 
 of land or founding of white men's schools to improve. 
 However, a colored bottle passing from John's possession to 
 
 299 
 
his, beguiles him into asininity and he signs the deed. Pres- 
 ently the Medicine Man reproaches and threatens Occom 
 with eleven years of awful torture (showing visions of a 
 hideous girl's head labelled "Leb," a tottering car labelled 
 "B. & M.", and finally Dartmouth Hall) unless as an alter- 
 native he marries Lady Sanborn who is enticingly wooing 
 him. But he distractedly resists her importuning though her 
 amorous songs are seductively echoed by four attractive 
 Indian couples. Her only hope of him lies at last in the 
 flight of his numerous harem into the forest to be organized 
 by one of the up-to-date white women settlers into a Wom- 
 en's Union; in his consequent perplexity over his hapless 
 wailing papooses left behind; and in Lady Sanborn's 
 promptly manifested skill in quieting their vociferousness. 
 
 But if the plot seemed at times rather thin and incon- 
 sequential, and Sam Oecom's folly somewhat incongruous, 
 the audience at least enjoyed the effective orchestration, the 
 choruses, the involuntary oblique ascent during the last cho- 
 rus of a wall-sized stage painting of Dartmouth Hall, and 
 the near decapitation of several too forward members of 
 the final chorus by the over-rapidly descending curtain. 
 
 Rev. Ozora S. Davis '89 was the preacher at the College 
 Church on Sunday morning as 'he had been at the Bacca- 
 laureate in June.- What other text could he have taken than 
 "The voice of one crying in the Wilderness," adopted in its 
 Latin form for the College seal in 1773 on recommendation 
 of Eleazar Wheelock : "Vox clamantis in deserto" ? Out of 
 the eloquent address a few appealing sentences still echo. 
 Eleazar Wheelock's words : "I built a hut of logs without 
 bricks or stone or glass or nails, and my son made booths 
 and beds of hemlock boughs !" Thus still today while we ob- 
 serve that "tragic tinge of vanishing red which called Dart- 
 mouth into being," we glow with pride in our "Brotherhood 
 of £he flaming soul and the vibrant voice," the brotherhood 
 of an institution that "prepares the living man for the living 
 touch upon his time." Yet we live in times as uncertain 
 and changeful as those of Eleazar Wheelock, for "Though 
 
 300 
 
the blood upon the key of the present is as yet hardly dry, 
 it no longer fits the future's portal. Our way still lies 
 through the wilderness." And to guide us through this wil- 
 derness men must learn to live for things spiritual and not 
 merely for things material. Else, for the rich man "His 
 dividends are his disaster. He has not lived, he has only 
 labored." 
 
 But the Secretary has reached the relay post. Exit 
 K. Enter George. 
 
 NINETY-NINE AT THE SESQUI-CENTENNIAL 
 
 October 19, 2 P. M. on. 
 
 After dinner Hobe, assisted by Donny, Jim ,Barney 
 and Bill Atwood, gathered up "K" and his suitcase and 
 motored them to West Leb to catch the Boston train. It 
 was a forced retreat on K's part. The desire to linger and 
 further chronicle events had been routed by school duties. 
 As Hobe gave the engine gas, K tossed. the Chronicler's 
 mantle as a parting good-bye to the ex-secretary. Presi- 
 dents may have difficulty in knowing what to do with ex- 
 presidents, not so class secretaries with ex-class secretaries. 
 Ergo these supplementary notes. 
 
 Instantly the cheer seemed to drop out of things, the 
 drab heavens grew drabber. A visit upon Sleep's fresh- 
 man Edgar Lyle rescued by Sleep and the 20th Reunion 
 from the degradation of a life at Tufts to the elevated 
 Dartmouth atmosphere of the Southwest corner of the 
 second floor of Reed Hall, that good old freshman stamp- 
 ing ground of '99, — Sleep, Sleep's brother and Sleep's dog 
 were there too chortling over the saving of another soul 
 to Dartmouth influence and outside the portal stood 
 Sleep's great green motor throwing paradoxes at the mem- 
 ories of the past,— arguments ad hominem between Buck 
 Burns and Squaw Kirk, arguments ad aurem by Benny's 
 
 301 
 
baby organ, filtering out from the square-panel windows 
 above it ; attendance upon a f rat meeting acted as equalizers 
 until Hobe and his '99 satellites returned. The heavens 
 by this time had begun to frown real tears so the gray 
 dampness of the Terrace of the Commons was swapped 
 for the golden warmth of 40 Middle Massachusetts and 
 the reins to real '99 discussion handed over to Hobe and 
 Donny, while the rest, now including Dr. Hale Dearborn, 
 listened and added to the tobacco smoke. Hobe was just 
 in the height of an oratorical climax, excluding Thaddeus 
 Stevens from the roll of the Dartmouth immortals, for 
 abetting the post civil war carpet baggery and its at- 
 tendant ills, when a knock upon the door announced the 
 arrival of Jerry. In a jiffy the latter* s coat and hat were 
 off and he was in the fray too. His entry as the delegate 
 from Princeton signalled the beginning of the more formal 
 part of the celebration. Luckily before any bodily damage 
 occurred the pealing of the chapel bells broke up the heat 
 of the discussion. Hobe and Donny could not quite nerve 
 up tc another church service. They had already listened 
 to Ozora Davis' » brilliant exegesis upon "Vox clamantis 
 in deserto" from sinners' row in the gallery of the College 
 Church and later attended mass at St. Denis. But the rest 
 of us gathered ourselves into our coats and tried to beat 
 out the pelting rain and those long forgotten ominous 
 bell strokes. Fifty freshmen were coming away from the 
 chapel porch as we approached, "no more room," but we 
 kept on around to what used to be the President's door 
 and slipped in. A row of students kindly gave up their 
 seats and we merged into the great throng reaching into all 
 corners of the edifice. President Hopkins was impressive, 
 the student choristers and the great organ rang out richly 
 from the choir loft, the voices raised in hymn from the 
 floor crammed the vaults above. Just before the postlude 
 some of the singers in the choir loft gave way to a stringed 
 quartet. They played a pleasant "Meditation" but it some- 
 how seemed an anachronism. The vigorous and familiar 
 
 302 
 
Hallelujah chorus set things right again stirring up mem- 
 ories of memorable vesper services in the past, confirming 
 one's belief in the memorableness of that of the present. 
 
 The rain had ceased, the throngs flared out across 
 the campus in all directions, delegates like Jerry to the 
 buffet luncheon at Robinson, the rest of us to eat where 
 we could. Clifford, Hale Dearborn and I got into the 
 dining room at the Inn and later on after supper Joe and 
 Mrs. Gannon, Doc and Mrs. Hawkes, Jim Barney, Bill 
 Atwood, Hobe, Donny and Jerry joined us in the Lounge. 
 We misadventured out once again to the chapel for an organ 
 recital interesting to those who could appreciate technique 
 and the mechanics of a great organ, but, even though 
 Sleeper had insisted we sit in the first row of the apse so 
 that the music would not come to us broken by the 
 arch above, chastisement to tired celebrators. The organist 
 visualized his organ, but forgot to visualize his auditors. 
 Scotty's, then sleep were more satisfying. 
 
 Monday, October 20, 1919 Twenty-two speeches.— 
 
 A giant intellect or a believer in the impossible must 
 have planned today. That is my retrospect tonight. My 
 prospect this morning looked out upon a fair green campus, 
 across which the lines of Old Dartmouth, Wentworth, 
 Thornton and Reed ran through an interlacing of tree 
 trunks and limbs, framed here and there by one tree like 
 the Webster elm, still holding its mass of golden brown 
 leaves. Cool night shadows still lingered on the grass 
 before the halls. Overhead spread the pale blue of a crisp 
 autumn sky. Somehow the old buildings seemed more fair 
 than at Commencement time. You got their outlines com- 
 plete. Never a hint of the coming ordeal by speeches sug- 
 gested itself anywhere, unless in the program in one's 
 pocket. But why bother with that under such surroundings. 
 Let events come as they might. 
 
 A line of dark gowned seniors like a darker shadow 
 drew itself before the chapel. Freshmen in leather coats 
 and pea green caps were carrying big tables out upon the 
 
 303 
 
green. The flare of music set their feet to doing a goose 
 step. Jubilance was in the air. Folks were turning chapel- 
 ward. Gay academic hoods gave the black gowns and 
 interspersed, gray overcoats of the gathering and inter- 
 weaving throng the appearance of the interior of a revolv- 
 ing kaleidoscope. The seniors went within the chapel and 
 drew the rest after them. There the body seats down the 
 center aisle pews were a mediaeval clash of colors hedged 
 in by alumni drabness in the north transept, senior blackness 
 in the east apse and more drabness in the south transept. 
 The service was short. The President's prayer that we 
 might "put off our day time cloaks of dissembling" had an 
 unsuspected roorback under the circumstances. It gave 
 one's funny bone a twinge. 
 
 At the end of the service the Marshals so directed 
 the going out that the order of the academic procession 
 was formed. One caught sight of Jerry's slightly time- 
 dulled golden hair above a Princeton gown amid the dele- 
 gates and of Long Jim's hooded form towering above the 
 faculty members. The procession, flag-bearers, seniors, 
 trustees and guests, delegates, faculty, town officials, alumni, 
 gradually evolved itself. The "gray hairs" in the alumni 
 were gotten down front and 1900 with some vociferousness 
 on the part of "Chelsea" Atwood eventually put 1903 
 properly back of us in the line. Westward on Church 
 Street to Main Street, then down beneath the arching elms 
 and between the lines of autos toward the Inn and eastward 
 on Wheelock Street to the east side of the campus the 
 procession went. The flag bearers already were opposite 
 the Thayer School (the old Gym) when '99 was passing 
 Webster Hall. The band puffed out a funeral-like march 
 relieved by alumni shouts like "get in here Ted where you 
 belong" as the alumni end of the parade picked up the 
 stragglers standing along the line of march. The procession 
 ran the gauntlet of whole batteries of cameras and then 
 the split ranks of the seniors, reaching down the east end 
 of the campus from Webster Hall, as it slowly filed up 
 by the great tent and entered Webster Hall. 
 
 304 
 
The seating of an academic assembly is more com- 
 plicated than planting a bed of hardy perennials. It must 
 take a landscape gardener to lay it out. Today the band 
 was stationed in the apse, on the left of the platform were 
 the faculty, on the right trustees and guests, on the left 
 of the space before the platform the student chorus, to 
 the right the student orchestra and the tables for the stenog- 
 raphers, in the body of the hall the behooded delegates, the 
 alumni and next the seniors. Students, faculty people and 
 others filled in the edges, sat in the galleries and along the 
 side seats, but nowheres filled them. At the time of a great 
 celebration Hanover somehow seems to get beset with a 
 great fear lest there won't be room enough. The result 
 is always the same, vacant spaces that give a saddening 
 atmosphere of lost points of contact for either student or 
 alumni enthusiasms. Today's vacant spaces were just a 
 repetition of past celebrations. It needed all the sunshine 
 through the great windows and the pictures of Rufus tear- 
 ing the air and twinkling — to counteract the empty corners 
 that might have been filled. 
 
 The overture from Mignon made a glorious opening 
 for the exercises. It was followed by an invocation by 
 the Rev. Francis E. Clark and five happy felicitations : — 
 
 H. W. Newell '20, for the undergraduate body re- 
 minded us that "the Dartmouth of today had done some- 
 thing, the call to the colors had been its challenge and trial 
 and fourscore and ten in meeting it had made the supreme 
 sacrifice." 
 
 Prof. E. J. Bartlett for the faculty crowned himself 
 with glory from the very moment of his address to the 
 President, "Dear friend, (pause) I mean honored Sir." He 
 went on "I am a relique of the past, when the rains came 
 and washed the oldest living graduate ancl distinguished 
 guests from the platform to refuge under it" (referring 
 to the Centennial exercises). "I bring you the felicitations 
 of 'your faculty,' 'yours' according to the tenor of the an- 
 cient instrument creating the college and establishing the 
 
 305 
 
powers of the trustees. It is a pleasant and delicate task, 
 but I may not be delicate when I get through. I felicitate 
 you, rather than congratulate you. We congratulate the 
 prospective bridegroom for achieving a difficult task. We 
 felicitate the lady in the case because she may not be sus- 
 pected of striving. This bright October morning is full 
 of joy, not the kind inseparable with the earlier celebra- 
 tions of the college. I have pride and solemn joy in you, 
 not a voice crying in the wilderness but one raised with 
 a clamor. The goodly company of saints in the pictures on 
 the walls praise you and the many worthy sinners with you 
 today do likewise. Mr. President you have wrought your 
 part in the great days. I felicitate you upon it and envy 
 you too in the conflict to come; that 'fair play' may not be 
 lost and that the old college shall still mean eternal belief 
 in the verities of man." These snatches fail to give the 
 little hesitating rasp and twinkle in his voice and eyes as 
 he put over his points. There was the flavor of old wine 
 in them. On many preceding occasions Professor Bartlett 
 has been happy, but never as felicitous as this morning. 
 
 W. T. Abbott, '90, for the alumni, opened fire with 
 the mot, "That curses and chickens are not the only things 
 that come home to roost ; your inaugural address has, but 
 I even doubt if you then saw the condition of the country 
 as it is today ; Grouchiness. In England two classes of 
 people left, as they say, impoverished nice people and nasty 
 people enriched by war." His Wilsonesque lower jaw 
 snapped. "What is the answer? A campaign of education 
 and conversion for more toil? Against the present day ul- 
 timatum of force against force, Dartmouth must take 
 leads, wake people up. Your purpose today must be as 
 far-sighted as your vision five years ago. The alumni are 
 back of you. Add another sheaf to yonder tower and the 
 granite of New Hampshire shall keep the record of their 
 fame." It was a snappy odd sort of speech, suggestive of 
 the "stump" rather than the reception room, but after all 
 sturdy and synchronistic. 
 
 306 
 
The next felicitator was Dean Jones of Yale. He 
 bowed to the President and thereupon drew his long lank 
 form up and turned his long oval head face on to the aud- 
 ience. His predecessors had made a pretense of speaking to 
 the President, with an aside as it was to the audience. Not 
 so the humor oozing Dean. He was "glad college presidents 
 were sometimes so busy they couldn't get away ; it gave the 
 faculty a chance for a junket, and it was lucky for him 
 that Eleazar picked Dartmouth to found and Yale to go to," 
 and he showed he intended to make the most out of it. In 
 one character he brought the felicitations of Yale "who 
 speaks as the mother of Dartmouth." In another character 
 he paid "tribute to Dartmouth for the brotherhood repre- 
 senting all American Universities, some of whom came in 
 limousines and some on the night train, 1:15 A. M. ; our 
 loss not theirs." As he closed he became poetic, "One 
 hundred fifty years are but the morning hours. There are 
 no evening shadows yet, Dartmouth shall sail beyond the 
 sunset and all the western stars. All the Brethren who 
 are with me greet you and all the Saints salute you." 
 
 His Excellency Governor Bartlett '94 brought this 
 part of the program to a close offering the felicitations of 
 the State of New Hampshire. At the same time ameliorat- 
 ing a little incident that happened back in 1819 in much 
 the same way that an Englishman would the little incident 
 ■ of 1776. It was happily and well done. 
 
 Felicitations at college celebrations are delicate situa- 
 tions, quite as delicate as the exhibition of the first born 
 to a bachelor college chum and faux pas are quite as likely 
 to rise up unawares to later shame one in the former as in 
 the latter circumstance. But nothing untoward had hap- 
 pened and much that was toward had been said. 
 
 The Chief Marshal, Professor E. F. Clark '01, tall 
 and sober faced as well as sober robed, announced the An- 
 niversary Ode written by Professor Childs of the English 
 Department. Professor McWhood who had written the 
 rmusic.and who had the distinction of being the only academ- 
 
 307 
 
ic person present to be shockingly ungowned, took his place 
 on the floor in front of the platform. The student choristers 
 over on the left rose. A violin bow ran across the strings 
 in the orchestra. A baton was raised, then the crash :— 
 
 "Dartmouth, old Dartmouth, 
 Your sons have come home!" 
 
 The music lifted you up into heaven at once. It had the 
 trick of seeming to detach you from yourself and carrying 
 you swiftly along in its rhythmic sweep. It may have been 
 the putting of the chorus before the verse that did this, but 
 however it was, the music and the ode thrilled you. The 
 first verse was a base recitative, the second verse a tenor 
 recitative. That second verse: 1 
 
 "Your torch that you kindled in faith for the eldest 
 A hundred and fifty winters ago, 
 A wilderness guide for your Indian sons, 
 Has burned to a beacon flaming so far 
 That your youngest have seen it in France and in 
 
 Flanders, — 
 Have seen it and known that your watch is still set 
 In their home in the North; 
 And whispering your name have given their lives 
 In courage and strength, as you bade, for the truth. 
 Oh mother of men, blest are your sons !" 
 
 set your frame on fire made it quiver with emotion notwith- 
 standing the beauty of the addresses that followed and they 
 were gripping with beauty and thought. Though one hesi- 
 tates to declare a preference, yet a feeling persists that the 
 ode and its music was the finest thing in the exercises. Its 
 memory still thrills. 
 
 President Hopkins had been sitting a short distance 
 behind the speakers' desk on the faculty side of the plat- 
 form, silent save for a nod of the head or the snap of his 
 dark eyes as he parried the thrusts of a felicitator. Some- 
 how his features never seemed so swarthy as they did this 
 
 308 
 
morning or so full of fire. He now rose and introduced 
 Justice Stafford of the Supreme Court of the District of 
 Columbia to speak upon "The College, a Training School 
 for Public Service." 
 
 The picture of Justice Stafford speaking etches itself 
 upon the memory in as fine lines as does his speech. Of 
 medium height, a delicate refined face framed in bushy 
 gray hair, a small dark moustache, glasses that reflected the 
 sunlight, hand clasped in hand across his gown or raised 
 in infrequent simple gesture, he stood behind the speaker's 
 desk and spoke with stirring simplicity. It isn't so much 
 the words that come back, though some of them do come 
 back into the picture. The college stands for getting back 
 to originals, for the cultivation of power and the pouring 
 of power into our own time, Keats was as ignorant of the 
 Greek language as a modern student may be, yet he was 
 "college bred." College means discipline of powers, use 
 of genius of men before us, devotion of power to common 
 weal ; it is the tool shop. The glory of Dartmouth is that 
 it has embodied this spirit. Dartmouth never stood for the 
 Montessori system in higher education ; Dartmouth stands 
 first for compact of states ; second for wholeness of states, 
 — story of first chapter told in biography of her greatest 
 son Webster, the story of second chapter told in story of 
 another son, Thaddeus Stevens. Vilification followed him 
 in life and death, yet no son more true to ideals did more 
 enduring work. ,Black, his rival at bar, declared he had 
 not his equal. Born 1793, graduated 1814, in December, 
 1859 at 70 years of age he entered Congress and for nine 
 years championed free principles. He ruled the House of 
 Representatives with a rod of iron. Was its greatest 
 parliamentarian, excepting John Quincy Adams. He poured 
 the heated lava of the nation into its fundamental law, 
 made the Declaration of Independence and constitution one. 
 He was greater than Webster. The riddle before the 
 Sphinx today is how are masses of men to labor with their 
 hands and be secured a fair return. Until this riddle is 
 
 309 
 
answered there can be no peace. If we do not face it we 
 will have a revolution. Let us hope United States may solve 
 the riddle. So now the answer to the riddle of the Sphinx 
 is still man, man, man. The solution is in the treatment 
 of men as brothers, granting to each the fruits of his labor 
 and the opportunity to raise himself. The world looks for 
 leadership in institutions like Dartmouth, "strong hearted 
 mother of the north." It is not so much the words that 
 come back as it is the symmetry of his speech, its graceful 
 delicacy and finish, its embroidery of well quoted verse 
 and the uplifted face speaking those last words with spirit- 
 ual divination. 
 
 Quite different was the next speaker, President Burton 
 of the University of Minnesota. Sturdy and stalwart his 
 comments upon "What must the college do?" came like a 
 trip-hammer working at wartime emergency speed. "First 
 it must insist on accuracy of thought and work in staff and 
 student body. Second it must stimulate and awaken our 
 spirit.- It must get away from the formalism of the past. 
 It must put more emphasis on teaching, students who study, 
 teachers who teach. Its object is not the amount of know- 
 ledge but stimulation of human being; an active soul, the 
 end ; need an active soul at both ends of problem ; must 
 provide 'open gate' for students (pig story) to try out things 
 for themselves ; must solve problems of day by new plans ; 
 must respect formal law (applause). In order to produce 
 responsibility it must be saturated with spirit of serious 
 discussion and finally it must be a training school in integ- 
 rity. The need of the world is good will, understanding. It 
 has become suspicious of higher education because Germany 
 lacked integrity. World trusts America. Make sure Amer- 
 ica can trust her college" was his parting thrust. 
 
 My powers of reception were dulled and jaded. It 
 gave one an encouraged feeling to slyly note that the Gov- 
 ernors, even some of the Trustees and even stately old 
 General Patterson, the grand Marshal of the Centennial, 
 with his white burnsides, the real relique of past, gave the 
 
 310 
 
appearance of being akin to sleep. However, there was an 
 "epilogue" and I had been wondering ever since I opened 
 the program just what sort of a feminine last word this 
 might be. One must pull his frayed energies together 
 though he wishes some one had believed with one other that 
 "a good play need no epilogue." As President Hopkins 
 stepped quickly to the desk and began to speak earnestly 
 and vigorously, it turned out that what was called an epi- 
 logue was really the third act. 
 
 The President's objective was an exposition of purpose, 
 a sort of credo for Dartmouth. That Dartmouth's re- 
 sponsibility is separate and apart from that which in general 
 appertains to the American college; that we- propose to seek 
 its solution in the light of our own experience and of our 
 own reasoning and only secondly in the light of a compara- 
 tive study of what has been deemed wise elsewhere; that 
 the first obligation of undergraduate college is as markedly 
 as possible to level up the mass; that the function of the 
 college is not primarily to develop intellectualism, but in- 
 telligent men and consideration must be given not only to 
 mind, but to soul and body ; that teaching ability is essential 
 in all men permitted to meet undergraduate classes ; that 
 the strength of a college is the strength of its faculty; that 
 the historic colleges were products of religious impulse and 
 so far as they glory in their birth rights they must glory in 
 this ; that the founders' altruistic purpose of converting 
 the heathen savage to the glory of God becomes in modern 
 parlance a desire to convert society to the welfare of man; 
 that either purpose requires the highest idealism and the 
 highest idealism is the surest religion, the symbol of which 
 is God and the manifestation of which is the spirit of 
 Christ. May' this ever be the spirit of Dartmouth College. 
 
 Milton's good old paraphrase of Psalm 136 and the old 
 tune of Nurenburg following the President were doubly 
 good. It's always more enjoyable to talk than to listen and 
 here one could stand up, stretch the leg gone to sleep and 
 sing, urged on by the thought that old "Nurenburg" prob- 
 
 311 
 
ably sung at the first Commencement was fittingly appro- 
 priate for this Sesqui-Centennial celebration and that you 
 had sung it at your own Commencement, even if you 
 couldn't sing it now. It revived one's drooping spirits. The 
 benediction was swiftly done, not so the out bound academic 
 procession. With its attendant Marshals it moved with 
 snail-like pace even though the music was "Onward, Chris- 
 tian Soldiers." But then the band were hungry and you 
 were hungry, both for food and the scintillating October 
 sunlight that you knew rested on the campus. However, 
 give things time and they will come to pass, even as these 
 exercises had come to pass superbly. 
 
 The luncheon on the campus was a poetic interlude. 
 The celebration throng leisurely spread out over the green- 
 sward. A lane had been roped off along the diagonal path 
 stretching from the college church to the library. On the 
 other side of it a mass of freshmen in their pea green caps 
 awaited the coming of the processional pageantette an- 
 nounced upon the program. All of a sudden like a mass 
 of amoeba they turned about and broke for the luncheon 
 tables set on the west side of the campus opposite Robin- 
 son. Did the ancient conk shell sound the call to luncheon 
 at just that moment? It looked more as though the fresh- 
 men had caught sight of the crowd coming from Webster 
 and thought it wise to be forehanded. However, there was 
 plenty for all. The delegates and guests journeyed on to 
 seats at a table in the big tent, but everybody else, alumni 
 and students, gathered a paper plate with salad, sandwiches 
 and pie and a paper cup of coffee and a fork and did a 
 Japanese juggling act trying to transfer the food from the 
 plate and cup to the mouth standing up. It sounds easy, 
 but it isn't so easy. Besides one was keeping a weather 
 eye out for that pageantette. The band sounded. "The 
 Aborigine" scheduled on the program came solemnly and 
 slowly down the lane. He had his right hand raised as 
 though he was giving the '99 salute. Next appeared Occom, 
 Dartmouth and Whitaker walking abreast as though they 
 
 312 
 
had stepped out of the paintings in the apse of Webster Hall. 
 Dartmouth had to have his long red cloak held up by pages 
 and the sturdy sunlight was a bit harsh upon their costumes 
 and make up. Next appeared a blue ox cart hauled by two 
 yoke of white faced cattle. Eleazar in clerical garb accom- 
 panied by Sylvanus Ripley and Dr. John Crane occupied 
 the front of the cart. They were dour looking beside the 
 driver of the cattle whose face wreathed in smiles seemed 
 to indicate he was having the time of his life. A stocky 
 old chap standing beside me at the rope volunteered the 
 remark as the cart passed "Huh, that hain't no kind of an 
 Eleazar. Ye ought to have seen the Eleazar a class had 
 here on the campus five years ago. He were the real thing." 
 I looked quickly again. His comment was well taken. This 
 Eleazar had a retrousse nose when he should have had 
 strong Roman features. Indeed he wasn't to be compared 
 with Bill Atwood's dignified impersonation of the part in 
 the '99 pageantette of the Refounding of the College five 
 years ago and the odd part was that my criticising neighbor 
 did not appreciate how far reaching his remarks were, 
 though he found a ready agreement with his opinion. 
 Hamp's old stage coach, that used to do service between 
 the college and the station, with four un-Hamp-like moving 
 horses, brought Madam Wheelock, students and personal 
 slaves, and the inevitable "hogshead" upon the trunk rack. 
 One detected a tendency upon the part of Madam Wheelock 
 to flirt with the onlookers, but then Eleazar was on ahead. 
 Governor Wentworth and companions were a gay appearing 
 group. John Ledyard, in an ancient sulky, threw trunks 
 broadcast with a jerking hand that was trying at the same 
 time to hold in a raw nag. Daniel Webster and Rufus 
 Choate were a pair of rare looking birds, frock-coated and 
 tall beaver hatted, riding together in an ancient canopied 
 four wheeled chaise, according to the program once the 
 property of Webster but now of the college. Finally Pa- 
 triotic Dartmouth, the Spirit of '76, the Spirit of '61 and 
 the Spirit of 1917 passed down the gravel path. The first 
 
 313 
 
three were picturesque, the second three produced a queer 
 reaction. Their tawney wigs and yellowish McClellan 
 goatees and their costumes struck the onlookers as funny. 
 The last three, bodies erect, khaki clad, leather jerkins, 
 overseas metal hats, clean cut faces, eyes right ahead, with 
 the flag flying above them caused a thrill to run down 
 through the crowd. It had all been like a picturesque frieze 
 unwinding itself across the campus each figure sharply 
 outlined in the clear sunlight. One marvelled that one's 
 paper cup still sat unspilled on one's paper plate. There 
 was scarcely time to advert to it when one's attention was 
 drawn to a mass of toy ballons, red, green and yellow, 
 that appeared above the heads of the throng, making their 
 way on to the campus. They were soon scattered and 
 were soon sailing skyward until they became mere specks 
 against the distant blue or some high hung cumulus cloud. 
 Ted Legget interrupted star gazing to ask if '99 had noted 
 how much taller 98's candle on the birthday cake was than 
 99's. We had to frankly admit it and congratulate '98 on 
 at least once outdoing '99. There was, however, a certain 
 pleasure in discovering that 99's candle was the 13th in 
 height and that a whole lot of classes of respectable year 
 numbers had smaller candles upon the birthday cake. It 
 was certainly some birthday cake, a good foot in height 
 and five feet across it, and it stood just where every cir- 
 culating face feeding alumnus, eating on the college, might 
 either take pleasure or chagrin in his class candle upon it. 
 Another bunch of gay colored spots extending from the 
 portals of the Administration Building diverted Ted Legget 
 from his candle pride. It came out upon the campus and 
 separated itself into innumerable balloons floating above 
 the heads of the throng. At a given signal all were let 
 loose and went sailing up, each with a tag attached to its 
 string. Red, green and yellow they made a gay picture, 
 lifting up over the campus, catching in the uppermost 
 branches of the elms, floating off like a sky garden, into the 
 pale blue until the colors faded in the distance. The purr 
 
 314 
 
of a flying machine fell upon the ear and soon the machine 
 itself was sailing overhead. Its novelty was its appearance 
 over the trees and campus of Hanover. Somehow as it 
 sailed about or fluttered downward through the high sky 
 like a leaf falling from one of the tall elms, it linked the 
 Dartmouth of 1769 up with the Dartmouth of 1919 and 
 the Dartmouth men who had been of the recent flying 
 corps. It all had been a strangely mixed interlude. To a 
 layman it seemed to have all the incongruities of a Debussy 
 composition and yet was poetic. 
 
 The flying machine scared homeward most of the '99ers 
 except Jerry. We took in the educational conference on 
 "Ancient Languages and Literature, Modern Languages 
 and Literature and Fine Arts" held in Robinson Hall. Clar- 
 ence Joy was there too. Professor C. D. Adams presided 
 and the general subject was the "humanities old, and new, 
 in college education." President Neilson of Smith, Profes- 
 sor Babbitt of Harvard and Arthur Fairbanks '86, Director 
 of the Fine Arts Museum, Boston, led off the discussion 
 and were followed by five other speakers the last of whom, 
 Professor J. K. Lord, seemed to get nearest the heart of 
 the matter. Two other conferences, one on the sciences 
 and one on the social sciences, were going on at the same 
 time elsewhere. From the social science conference came 
 reports of real pyrotechnics. The pleasing surprise to the 
 humanity group was that over eighty were in attendance 
 and that the social science group was only twenty ahead in 
 attendance. It indicated to those interested in the human- 
 ities that they were still of interest. 
 
 Eight more talks ! One needed another interlude to 
 rebalance. The boys with the air guns trying to hit the 
 toy balloons caught up in the trees ; the "Jack o'Lantern" 
 for sale at an oak desk brought out from Robinson Hall 
 to the edge of the sidewalk by an enterprising student 
 manager had to suffice. Maybe it was all one could stand. 
 An easy chair in the lounge of the Inn, with the logs 
 crackling nearby and Ned Kenerson's chat at one's elbow 
 were the better substitutes. 
 
 315 
 
We come now to the third and last act, the celebration 
 dinner held in the great dining room of the Commons. 
 One entered the raftered hall by the doors at the south end. 
 Down through the tables the great birthday cake sparkled 
 with candle glow in the hollow made by the formation of 
 the head table, before the great fireplace. Covers were laid 
 for three hundred, according to Perry near whom I sat. 
 The men were in evening clothes save for a few last mom- 
 ent low-brows like Ned Kenerson and myself. Perry had 
 provided of the best for the dinner itself and when it came 
 to the speaking Mr. Abbott '90, one of the felicitators of 
 the morning, kept the oratorical ball in play with a snap 
 that made you think of Walter McCormack on the gridiron. 
 Six more speeches, not wonderful to say, but wonderful if 
 one could recall anything that was said. Ex-President 
 Nichols had the usual and happily well turned phrase, with 
 a good story of an elderly Englishman who wrote to Punch 
 last year complaining that Punch no longer seemed funny 
 and got the reply from the editor "It never was," the appli- 
 cation of which has slipped into shadowland along with 
 most of the other things said. President Ferry of Hamil- 
 ton, representing the other Indian Missionary founded col- 
 lege, had some clever differentiation of men's and women's 
 colleges; like, a "Wellesley girl asks of a fellow, — what is 
 his family ; a Bryn Mawr girl, — what does he know, etc. ; 
 but a Smith girl, — where is the fellow." Senator Moses 
 was chiefly and properly badinage between himself and 
 his classmate, the toastmaster. It was no time for weighty 
 thoughts. President Faunce of ; Brown got off for a serious 
 run down the whole field for another touchdown on edu- 
 cation. I only captured one thing out of it. "The voca- 
 tional schools work through us, the humanities work in us 
 and the latter is the college." The next speaker Professor 
 Felix Frankfurter of the Harvard Law School tried to put 
 over the same trick upon us. He got away with the ora- 
 torical ball tucked firmly under the arm and all opposing 
 interferences assumingly scattered. But he forgot such un- 
 
 316 
 
Seen guardsmen as fag and inertia and while he made his 
 run, it was a goodly distance, — he never got across my 
 goal line. His words rolled off like water off a duck's 
 back, never even touched the skin, not to say making any 
 imprint underneath the skin. Dean Laycock, as has fre- 
 quently been the case in recent Dartmouth gatherings, had 
 the difficult task of bringing the speaking to a close. It 
 was indeed a far-gone fag, if his voice couldn't raise it 
 somewhat or his gesture once more bring life back to the 
 dozing eye. He said he was like the newspaper reporter 
 who in coming to report events to his paper confessed he 
 couldn't tell the story of the Sesqui-Centennial, he could 
 only "feel" it, and then he branched into one aspect of it, 
 the loyal return of the alumni and retold his compara- 
 tive allegory of the little old lady aboard one of the boats 
 that had gone down Boston harbor to welcome home an 
 army transport upon which was her son. It had the rous- 
 ing element of a bit of music one has heard before. It 
 helped to return one's fagged out energies, at least so he 
 knew enough to turn in his check for his coat and hat. 
 
 In the closing words of the toastmaster "It had been 
 some celebration." Believe me, too, it had been. Twenty- 
 two speeches. I felt them each separately and all together 
 and in the words of one other "a good play needs no epi- 
 logue." However, one cannot refrain from adding Profes- 
 sor Colby's chance post-celebration dictum that he "believed 
 that every one had at some time during the day reached 
 his saturation point on speeches." I confessed that I real- 
 ized that I had and ventured the opinion that if there were 
 he who had come through the ordeal without having reached 
 the saturation point, such person merited the reward of 
 Grand Marshal at the next celebration. 
 
 317 
 
PROFESSOR JOHN VOSE HAZEN 
 
 Teacher, Leader, and Companion 
 
 When we men of '99, now more than twenty years out 
 of college, pause and let reason transform the pleasanter 
 and more usual picture of our old professors we realize 
 that they too have grown twenty years older; but when 
 death does come to one of them we are none the less 
 shocked and grieved. 
 
 Professor John Vose Hazen died October 2, 19 19 in 
 his sixty-ninth year and while still on the active list of 
 professors of the college. 
 
 A very complete history of his life and activities and 
 a sincere appreciation of the man may be found in the 
 October number of The Alumni Magazine. It seems fitting, 
 however, that '99 should recall at this time some of the 
 associations of the dass with Professor Hazen. 
 
 Probably half of the class did not have the pleasure 
 of knowing Johnny Vose in the class room — the other half 
 met him in freshman graphics, but with the Thayer men 
 he was the one professor under whom they sat for some 
 part of every term of every college year. 
 
 It was the senior year in college, being also the first 
 year in the Thayer School when we came to know him most 
 intimately, reciting to him for an hour in the morning and 
 then dividing into field parties and proceeding to the hills, 
 and woods to "lay out" the Mink Brook Railway. "Johnny" 
 was not then the professor, but our chief. 
 
 At noon we assembled at some inviting spot and ate 
 our lunches. 
 
 Then would his companionship, his wit, his twinkling 
 eye and friendly counsel win us. He was one of us. At 
 the end of the day's work (for it was not a picnic) we 
 would, at "Johnny's" word, shoulder "guns" and rods and 
 
 318 
 
axes and start for Hanover. He seemed to know within 
 sixty seconds the time it would take to walk in from any- 
 given point within five miles of Hanover, and "Johnny" 
 always led the way. 
 
 We might keep abreast of him and engage in friendly 
 talk, but we never passed him and we never arrived before 
 supper was ready. 
 
 Professor Hazen's subjects were not those of pure 
 mathematics nor, in general, those of intricate theory and 
 design, but were rather of the more "practical" nature, 
 training the combined use of mind, hand, and eye, — those 
 subjects involving not the analytical functions of the brain 
 but the development of common sense, technique, and good 
 practice. 
 
 Thus it was when we were mature enough to measure 
 the man we found John Vose Hazen accurate, painstaking, 
 possessed of a wonderful memory, an exceptional judge of 
 the real value of his pupils' work, extremely fair, possessor 
 of a keen sense of humor, a teacher of rare ability, partic- 
 ularly in preparing a man to coordinate theory and prac- 
 tice, and a good companion. 
 
 His memory will be cherished by all who knew him 
 and cherished most by those who knew him best. 
 
 Albert H. Greenwood. 
 
 PROF. CHARLES HENRY HITCHCOCK 
 
 August 23, 1836 to November 6, 1919 
 
 Dartmouth '99 men will remember Prof. Charles 
 Henry Hitchcock simply as "Type." As such he was part 
 of the indispensable environment that made our Dartmouth. 
 We are likely, first of all, to remember the seniors in the 
 spring of '96 storming down the north corridor of Dart- 
 mouth Hall — while we were with Charlie Darwin in Greek 
 
 319 
 
— and entering the room opposite ours chanting their war 
 cry — "We elected, we elected, we elected Type, Type, Type, 
 Type — " ; or we will recall the tradition that in his forty 
 years from 1868 to 1908 as Hall Professor of Geology and 
 Mineralogy he never flunked but one man. 
 
 But the more we review the facts in Professor Hitch- 
 cock's life the more impressive they become. Son of a 
 college president, Edwin Hitchcock of Amherst; born at 
 Amherst August 23, 1836, receiving his A. B. in 1856 and 
 his A. M. three years later, forty years before '99 graduated; 
 a student of theology at Yale Divinity School and Andover 
 Theological Seminary; a student in the Royal School of 
 Mines in London; a notable traveler not only in the United 
 States, but also in Europe, in Australia, and in the Ha- 
 waiian Islands. Then there were his active and honorary 
 memberships in geological and scientific institutes, acad- 
 emies, societies, American and foreign ; and his pamphlets, 
 books, treatises, monographs, maps and reports up to a 
 number between one and two hundred. "Type" was a 
 broad, thorough, productive scholar. Probably his most 
 notable accomplishments were the heading of an expedi- 
 tion in the winter of 1 870-1 which occupied the summit 
 ol Mount Washington and established the first high moun- 
 tain observatory in the United States, and the monumental 
 Geology of New Hampshire in four volumes. 
 
 His home life was a very happy and simple one. He 
 married his first wife, Miss Martha Barrows, daughter of 
 Prof. E. P. Barrows of Andover, in 1862. Of their three 
 daughters the first, Maria, married F. J. Allen '89 but 
 died in 1895. The other two, Martha and Alleine, to- 
 gether with his second wife, Miss Charlotte Barrows, mar- 
 ried in 1895, survive him. They live in Honolulu, where 
 he died, in a house which he built when he moved in 1908 
 to the Hawaiian Islands to study the action of volcanos. 
 
 Doctor Hitchcock was very fond of outdoor life. He 
 usually kept a horse and frequently made long geological 
 trips, always with a black bag filled with an assortment 
 
 320 
 
of rock hammers. He could often be seen also paddling 
 on the river in a little boat which he kept for many years. 
 
 Many of the boys will remember the trips taken in 
 connection with the work in the classroom. They will re- 
 member how "Type" would take the lead over rough coun- 
 try, the boys following in Indian style in the rear. When 
 we wished to go a long distance we made these trips on 
 our bicycles, taking our lunch, thus making a real outing. 
 
 Doctor Hitchcock made many contributions to the 
 Museum, especially in connection with the pre-historic 
 age. Up to 1899 the greater part of the collection was 
 made by him. Among other things he gave many botanical 
 specimens. 
 
 But the greatest contribution he made to Dartmouth 
 was after all in the example of a man who in spite of im- 
 mense learning remained modest and unassuming to the 
 last, and of a man whose confidence in human nature was 
 so profound that he instinctively saw in his students the 
 men they might be rather than the men they too often were. 
 
 Edwin L. Allen. 
 
 321 
 
THE SPIRIT OF DARTMOUTH SPEAKS 
 
 With this page you close another chapter in that vol- 
 ume you call Dartmouth. Year after year you read in it, 
 yet the story grows not old. 
 
 You close your eyes ; and the buildings, the trees, the 
 Tower, the hills, the river, the profs, the classmates, the 
 collegemates, the eating tables, the note books, the cheers, 
 the walks, the dreams, the songs, — all in endlessly repeated 
 panoramic procession, — march up and down and through 
 and occupy the country of your soul. You are a changed 
 man forever, — yourself still, yes, but much more than 
 yourself, — a Son of Dartmouth, loving and beloved. 
 
 322 
 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 C.D25U1899S C001 
 
 Vicennial report of Dartmouth '99 : foil 
 
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