As the class approached its Thirtieth Reunion in 1990, it seemed appropriate to make this poetic remembrance available to a wider audience, including members of other classes and the larger Dartmouth community for several reasons: (1) to help rejuvenate the reunion spirit as well as to support the 1990 Reunion itself; and (2) to evoke familiar but fading images, percep-tions and impressions of one class's memories of its Dartmouth Days (1955-1959) which also remain meaningful to the larger Dartmouth family.

Readers will note that several references are Class of '59-specific, namely, a lifetime company of fellows and references to 1959. I have not deleted these because this is, after all, the Class Poem of the Class of 1959's 25th Reunion in Hanover; because members of many other pre-1976 classes are also all "fellows;" and because to change it would, in effect, alter a minor literary-historical document.

In asking myself several years ago while reflecting on all that Dartmouth has given me: "What I could do for Dartmouth?," my wee poetic muse provided one answer. The poem has given me real pleasure and I hope will do so for many others, including those beyond the great class of 1959, who may find in it something of value while they ponder in its many manifestations of that noble institution called Dartmouth College.

Fifty-Nine Remembers is proudly dedicated to the parents, classmates, teachers and other loved ones, no longer living, who helped before, during and after our time in Hanover.

Douglas Lanphier Wheeler '59
June 14, 1995

2
We were the College's
before the College was ours.
At last Pea-green, Seniors discovered us.
There were odd things to carry, without much fuss.
No one has a car? Even on a Plain, that's far!
Beanies, crew cuts, baggy khakis,
white bucks carefully sullied and old,
worn Dartmouth jackets, thin proof against this cold.
From on high in Webster came Presidential words,
'Your business here is learning,
and that is up to you.'
Firmly metered words began our Dartmouth days,
we listened, with yearning, the Aegis would say.
A lifetime company of fellows (renewal voluntary),
called Nineteen Fifty-Nine.

3
We were the College's
before the College was ours.
A commencing act in common made some sense.
Our 'I & C experience' made some wince.
No matter, this strangely learned patter,
from faculty thoughts, this-er and that-er,
our initiation for one Dartmouth experience.
Where o' where are those Pea-green Freshmen?
They're o' they're in stately Baker,
'as the backs go tearing by . . . '
for seasons of booking and much Mural looking
(watching Orozco and by Orozco watched).
Half-times with milk and sandwiches, House parties,
calls home, purchases at Tanzi's, breakfasts at Lou's,
charging 'The Nugget', by 'The Nugget' charged,
while the bells of Baker do and die.
A lifetime company of fellows (renewal voluntary),
called Nineteen Fifty-Nine.

4
We were the College's
before the College was ours.
Where o' where are the slumping Soph'mores?
They're o' they're on that long gone train,
they're o' they're on the Boston and Maine.
Engineers are certified insane.
When conductors had no compunction,
to shout at that last whistle's function,
'Good riddance, all out at White River Junction!'
From Thayer to Dartmouth Row,
and on to Webster and Baker, through snow,
add our boots' squeaky crunch,
newly chosen majors, Fraternities pledged,
remember the Gile Hall Basement Committee
Winter Carnival re-discovered, skiing, skating, bonfires,
dates, unfamiliar and over-familiar.
Milk Punch for lunch.
A lifetime company of fellows (renewal voluntary),
called Nineteen Fifty-Nine.

5
We were the College's
before the College was ours.
Where o' where are the rowdy Juniors?
They're off to battles nightly, with Stillwell, in Reed,
with Adams' gruff voice of History, planting new seeds.
More seasons of booking, mural looking,
Our agile lords of field and cinder,
to New Hampshire's hills play in splendor,
From Thayer to Dartmouth Row,
and on to Webster and Baker, through snow,
From Winter's Occum to chill swims at Storr's, this is Spring?
Papers and parties and acts extracurricular, on the wing.
For dinner, mystery meat, we repeat.
A lifetime company of fellows (renewal voluntary),
called Nineteen Fifty-Nine.

6
We were the College's
before the College was ours.
Where o' where are the grand old seniors?
Not so safe at last in the tri-mester world.
Ike's twilight administration, with us, dawning sensations.
Row on row of Seniors, green jackets, in Dartmouth Hall,
well-met once more as a lifetime company of fellows, all.
The grand scheme of Dickey's course called Great Issues,
weekly met to pry open small fissures,
in our learned ignorance.
Fight conformism! The boy in the gray flannel suit?
Or was it green? Inner-directed, other-directed, misdirected!
Beware the Affluent Society and the Military-Industrial Complex.
What's next? Attention, all pre-meds, heal thyself!
From Fraternity Hums to fearsome Finals,
flicking out and waiting-in-line ho-hums.
'The Dartmouth Players proudly present, 'The Boyfriend','
a cast drawn from seven hundred young hopefuls,
standing room only, Robinson Hall.
From Thayer to Dartmouth Row,
and on to Webster and Baker, through snow, now melting.
Green Key weekend, calypso and more.
'For the road, once more' and we are gone,
to Smith, Wellesley, Skidmore and Boston,
some came as far as Austin.
Some as dates, some as spouses to be, and others
(what was her name?).
ROTC parades, with drums drumming, cross familiar Green,
steps of the company's officers, future, heard but not seen.
In the unreachable year, glorious but sobering, 1959,
a chilly Graduation, parents, friends, farewells for now.
At the hanover Inn, a final corner is turned.
Poets and presidents told how far we had to go,
yes, but how, where and wherefore only we could know,
A lifetime company of fellows (renewal voluntary),
called Nineteen Fifty-Nine.
We are the College's
and the College is ours (at least for this Weekend!).

7
Our quarter century reunion is with us.
An even but odd Orwellian year, a new ritual.
We have changed, we have not changed.
The College has changed, the College has not changed.
A progress report, reunion book, in hand,
a mirror for our curious company.
Face recognized, unrecognized, incognito.
Some in between, not here, unseen.
We mourn our losses - classmates, parents, teachers, spouses,
memories with our Dartmouth Days, to them, a tribute.
New families, old families, families of remembrance.
New jobs, old jobs, no jobs, but plenty of work
and more of the business of learning to do.
Less hair, more hair, none,
but looking is half the fun.
We've paid our quarter century toll,
fill up the great Reunion bowl!
'Dartmouth's in town again . . . '
jog, young women, jog!
Catch you at the Fiftieth!
A lifetime company of fellows (renewal voluntary),
called Nineteen Fifty-Nine.