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[WWW 7/26/09] Somebody asked the other day if I could do something for them in my spare time. “Spare time”...? Whatnell is that? Didn’t summer used to drag by, ever so slowly, until we almost got anxious for school to start again...? Not any more, gents. Kindly cast a glance at your trusty ol’ hourglass and regard the alacrity with which the sand is rushing to the bottom. That’s not an egg-timer, fellas; you don’t get to turn it over and start again--that’s the one-time measure of your allotted visit upon this mortal coil... as the old philosophers say, life is like a roll of toilet paper: the closer you get to the end, the faster it goes. So saying, when was the last time you spent some “quality time” with your Injun friends, roommates, teammates, fratbros, and/or other youngsters who graduated with us June 11, 1961? Been a while? As Snuffy Smith always bleated: “Time’s a-wastin’!”

Maynard Wheeler has diligently cobbled together another fine fall mini-extravaganza in Hanover, October 2-4. This scribe, having spent most of his life in the most remote community ‘round the girdled earth, was able to finally attend a Hanover mini last October, and can speak with experience and authority that it is well worth the effort. Hie the thither. I’ll be waiting forya. The Grim Reaper, contrariwise, will not wait...

We would be remiss to pass up an opportunity to welcome Jim Yong Kim to the Wheelock Succession. Serious readers of WWW know that, though publicly neutral politically, the editor has been known to have opinions regarding the fate of the college and/or the conduct of the inhabitants of Parkhurst. And though we would never, ever share a personal thought in this august journal, we would like to express our hopes that Dr. Kim may be just what the patient needed, and our faith that he will deliver the proper prescription in the appropriate dosage. As for his promise to cure the moribund football program: Geev`um, bruddah! Yudaman! Back to Top

Legacy of the Arts. '61s David Birney, Peter Bleyler, Oscar Arslanian, John King, Cleve Carney, Charlie Brown recently issued an update on the Class of '61 Legacy highlighting "Sweet Honey in the Rock".  Exerpts are presented here.

The Class of '61 Legacy:   “Sweet Honey in the Rock”  Rocks the Campus


Following their performance performance on the National Mall for the Inauguration of President Obama, the amazing Sweet Honey in the Rock came to Dartmouth in January-- not just for a concert, but for a rich and passionate engagement with the students and the larger community over a period of four days.  This internationally renowned all-woman, African- American, a cappella ensemble built their group, from the blend of history and musical tradition coming out of the Civil Rights Movement.  This formidable group sings its history with a repertoire of gospel, blues, spirituals, jazz improvisations, lullabies, African chants, hip hop and hymns.  

There were few women at Dartmouth when we were in Hanover, and certainly, no women like these women.

For a brilliant sample of their sound, listen and then return:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-YGzsUc2iE&feature=PlayList&p=08041D8F78941398&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=15

  We have made an extraordinary contribution to the life of of  Dartmouth and its community. “To ignite and sustain a passion for the arts,” is the mission of the Hop.”  We can be enormously  proud of The Class of ‘61 Legacy and the rich and enduring tradition of support that we have created for the Hopkins Center.  We are still short of our goal for the 50th reunion.  It is a difficult time, we all know that.  But please, think seriously about the quality and imagination of gifts like the presence of Sweet Honey in the Rock on campus.   Well done.

 PS.  The Hopkins Center has sent to the Class a DVD account of the Sweet Honey Dartmouth Residency which Harris McKee has been kind enough to upload on the web.  
                Check  it out.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4t6kBBJYRp8
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Wearing of the Green. Drifting back to our opening comments, we have been barraged with news items, concerns, and reports of noteworthy activities involving ‘61s. Not many attended the Wearers of the Green festivity back in May at the Copley Plaza. This enshrinement only happens every five years, and, as our our revered associate in letters David Shribman ’76 so aptly states: "They've made us cheer and they've made us proud, and they've helped make Dartmouth what it was long ago and what it is today: a place where we're all Wearers of the Green." This year somebody noticed a huge decades-long oversight, and they finally inducted Al Rozycki. Having been properly--though belatedly--honored, Roz offers these observations to the class: “Diane and I attended the Wearers of the Green ceremony at the Westin Copley Plaza Hotel in Boston last evening. There were over 600 in attendance--Ron Boss, John Damon and I were the only '61 attendees. John had a niece who was being inducted as a member of the national championship figure skating team of a year or so ago. I didn't know John while at Dartmouth so it was doubly nice getting to meet a former classmate. I missed a number of opportunities to chat with Ron.
I did, however, get to reacquaint myself with Larry Lawrence ’80 and Peter Roby ‘79 (he was Master of Ceremonies)...both were terrific basketball players in the early 80's and my sons loved the team and we got to know a number of the players. In fact we had 6 of them over one Thanksgiving and never have I seen people eat so much! It was great to see them again and to see how successful their lives had become. I also got to meet Scottie Palmer's [’59] son--he's even taller than Scottie; and he told me he had been a camp counselor at my oldest son's basketball camp one summer here in Hanover. So it was all a lot of fun.
I was able to peruse the program--there are seven other '61's who are Wearers of the Green:
•Pete Sly: two-time All-American in lacrosse
•Charley Brown and Cleve Carney: two-time All-Americans in swimming
•Art Bookstrom: National skiing champion
•George Ramming: Kenneth Archibald Prizewinner recognizing all-around
varsity athletic achievement and high standing in scholarship, and also for being first team All-Ivy in two sports (track & field and basketball)
•Ron Boss: was inducted at the initial celebration in 1994 as an Honorary Wearer of the Green.
•me: as Alfred E. Watson Trophy winner, honoring the most outstanding male varsity athlete of the year, as determined by the head coaches of the men's teams and also for being first team All-Ivy in two sports (football & lacrosse)
Anyway–-it was a great personal honor and an honor to represent all of you guys who worked so hard alongside of me as we enjoyed our collegiate athletic careers, and it was a real tribute to athletics at Dartmouth to see so many young men and women, student-athletes and scholars. We should all be proud of these young men and women who are coming up to replace us.” [well said, old friend. Had the extreme good fortune to be acquainted with all our '61 WoGs, and even roomed w/Bookstrom for two years. You so rightly belong amongst that cadre of luminaries--and for superlative performance beyond the field of play as well: A life well lived! May you bask in the glow of starlight, inhale the lasting fragrance of maile garlands, and continue on doing good works. ed.] To which Webmaster Extraordinaire Harris McKee adds “I second all of Conger's comments but I want to take issue with one of yours: the young kids coming up may be wonderful representatives of Dartmouth, but none of them will be a replacement for you.”

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While spreading the good news about Roz, might as well share some glad tidings from his fratbro Rich Marrone in Sweden. Those who went on the Baum Conservation hike during last October’s Hanover mini recall that Paisan’ did it on ravaged knees, aided by a stout stick; he was due to have both knees replaced in Dec. or Jan. An inquiry this spring garnered this response: “...well, since mid-February, about 2 weeks after the double whammy, this olde farte has been going just about at full tilt, first doing long walks--without pain--as well as hitting the rowing machine every day...then, there was 'escalation' to a stationary bike and cross-trainer, and finally to street cycles and actual jogging on a mini trampoline...the surgeon took 3-1/2 hours per knee, hacking and sawing, hammering and chiseling, and later told me he had never, ever seen such chaos in 'joints', which had clumped into balls of solid bone, with no cartilage relief, making him wonder how I had managed to 'locomote' before his interventions...go figure!” A later film clip revealed the ol’ Paisan beginning to get back on the jogging regimen he so dearly loves. Ya simply cannot keep a good man down... Right around the time we were boogying-down in Scottsdale, Fred Fields and Rox (main squeeze) were on Maui--Kula, to be exact--and thought the drive up Haleakala [past tc’s old residence] was a gorgeous experience, which it is. They dined sumptuously at Cafe 808, our favorite plate-lunch purveyor--bar none (see Chuck Dayton’s Cafe 808 “Big Kahuna” t-shirt...), and plan to return next year. [this ol’ kamaaina doesn’t, but wishes them godspeed...ed.] Back to Top

Also in March, Bob Fuller, a recycled bachelor, logs: “MacDuff [a fine scottish terrier/gentleman], who will be 13 on March 12 and is doing fine for an "old geezer,” and I have been keeping each other company; he is a great companion and keeps me going and upbeat. In addition, I [have been] spending time with friends and pursuing my business, playing some hockey and reading. I have been to the condo in NH several times, and often Dick Spencer has joined me for hockey, skiing, and last fall for the disastrous football season... He is now in California for a few months, and last weekend Ivar and Carol Jozus came up to NH, and we saw 2 men's and one women's hockey game. I skipped the first round of the playoffs this weekend, which is just as well since the Tribe was ambushed by RPI (a team we beat twice during the regular season by 5-2 both times) and is now done for the year . The ECAC is very competitive. For example Harvard, which finished fifth and was 9-1-2 on their own rink during the regular season, played last place Brown which only won 3 games out of 22, and the Bears came out of hibernation and won 2 straight on Harvard ice, both shutouts! My investment portfolio has been doing better than the average bear [get it...?], but has gone down somewhat along with my 2 properties. Business has been slow, and I have been surviving on cases and other matters which have been in the pipeline for a while, but what happens if the economic situation continues to deteriorate or does not recover reasonably soon has me very concerned.” Bob is an extraordinary sportsman, still playing excellent hockey [as he faces the Big 7-0!], and remaining an active member of the Friends of both Hockey and Football, attending many home games during each season. Back to Top

Speaking of sports, our long-distance buddy Allyn Freeman (Brown ’61), Contributing Editor for Rugby magazine, submits the following capsule digest of ‘09 Ivy Rugby: April 27, 2009 – Led by wing Chris Downer’s three tries, Dartmouth College won the 2009 Ivy League Rugby Championship with a 62-13 win over Harvard in the final. Although the Harvard match was a blowout, it was the closest any team came, as Dartmouth outscored its three opponents by the combined tally of 275-13. As one eRugbyNews wag noted, the competition could have been re-titled: “Big Green and the seven doormats.”
To reach the final Dartmouth crushed a coach-less Cornell 112-0, and then annihilated Princeton 101-0 in the semifinal. Harvard defeated Columbia 31-22 in the first round and Yale 31-17 in the semifinal.
Asked about the very obvious gap that now exists between Dartmouth and the rest of the Ivy League teams, Dartmouth Coach Alex Magleby ‘80, a Dartmouth alum and former Eagle 7s captain said, “there’s no systemic difference. Dartmouth grew a lot from our tour to California and competing in this year’s National Collegiate Championship...But Dartmouth were clearly the class of the tournament, and Magleby said there was a reason. “We continue to build; our guys worked their tails off for the past six months and work does it. It’s the same thing Cal does; our players work hard every day,” he said. “We are the smallest Ivy and guys don’t get into Dartmouth based on their rugby prowess, so we focus on things we have. And those things are a strong rugby tradition, enthusiastic students and alums who had great experiences when they were here who contribute to our program. We are always looking for the next Tom Conger speed merchant.” Dartmouth has also succeeded in attracting athletes who are successful in other sports. “There’s a long tradition of rugby attracting crossover athletes from other sports and we get a lot of those guys,” said Magleby. “They come to rugby because it presents an opportunity for them to remain competitive at the collegiate level.”
Certain that each class member recalls with clarity the momentous Eastern Rugby Union Championship match played in Providence in spring of 1961 between Brown and Dartmouth--both undefeated; so we shan’t reiterate the play-by-play, but should point out that Freeman (pride of Rockville Centre, NY’s South Side High football juggernaut in fall of ‘56) was at fullback for Brown that fateful afternoon, while Dartmouth played without their injured speed merchant scoring leader, and we kissed our sister - final score: 0-0... [not sure if future Brown alum JY Kim had been born yet... ed.]

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Ford Daley was rummaging through his library the day of the event, and located an etiquette book for ladies, published by a "Miss Betsy" in 1853.  He brought it to the dinner, and we presented it to Anna Post as a gift from the Class of 1961.  She told us that their institute does not have any books on etiquette as old as that one.
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In case you haven’t been paying attention, here’s an item to scare you to your senses: The cover article in the Lankenau Hospital (Wynnewood, PA) magazine for March 2009 begins thus: “March 9, 2004 began like any other Tuesday for Tom Theodore. But it would conclude the same way as the 30 or so nights that followed--with Tom having no understanding or recollection of his life-threatening peril. That morning the 64-year old woke up, showered, dressed, and made himself a cup of coffee. ‘It was then that I felt a sudden and enormous pressure in my chest,’ recalls Tom. He decided to recline on his sofa for a few moments. Ten seconds later, he knew something was very wrong.” Driving himself to the hospital, fearing that “if I called 911, it would be too late by the time they arrived,” he pulled into the parking lot at the Lankenau ED and realized another problem: “I couldn’t walk or stand. My legs were useless.” He tumbled headfirst out of his car and lay on the pavement screaming for help. A passerby spotted him in a heap, and ran ran back into the ED (Emergency Dept). “I remember them lifting me onto a gurney and wheeling me into the ED. They began cutting my clothes off and there were many people working on me.” “That would be Tom’s last memory for the next four weeks,” states the article. Determining the symptoms indicated an aortic dissection, a torn lining of the large vessel that carries blood out of the heart, the Asst Director of the ED, unable to perform a CT scan because Tom’s blood pressure was too low, asked for a trans-esophageal echocardiogram (TEE), which revealed the tear in Tom’s aorta. Left untreated, the condition’s survival rate was 20% (famous non-survivors were Jon Ritter and Lucille Ball), so Tom’s family, incl. 4 kids and seven grands, were told to prepare for the worst, and a lengthy life-saving operation was performed, followed by a medically-induced coma, then several weeks in the Lankenau ICU. Complications did ensue: Tom suffered strokes when plaque from his heart broke away and traveled to the brain, his right side was temporarily paralyzed, his kidneys quit (requiring a six-month nightmare on dialysis), and the surgeons amputated one toe on his right foot due to poor circulation. Eventually released from the hospital Tom--for 30 years a high level international management consultant, with a doctorate in adult learning and organizational development, would spend three more weeks at Bryn Mawr Rehab Hospital for intense PT. Five years later he is in good health, and gives back to Lankenau by serving two days a week helping incoming and departing patients at the main lobby. Tom says the surgical team “saved my life. They gave me at least another five years--and counting.” [and we add these medical cautions for auld geezers: if you wake up, shower and dress, whatever you do: don’t make yourself a cup of coffee! Right, Thos...? ed.]Back to Top

As long as we’re in medical mode, retired orthopod Ken DeHaven green cards from Rochester, NY: “Sorry to have to miss the 7-0 celebration. The reason I missed it (clock repair course) is now history as I am a new graduate of The School of Horology (science of time--never had a ‘W’), Columbia, PA. ‘Ken’s Clocks’ is now up and running [get it...?].” <macvulch***rochester.rr.com> .

And ol’ faithful Tony Horan, who never wastes a green card, advises: “My book, The Big Scare: The Business of Prostate Cancer, will come out June 30th. A prepublication copy can be purchased at <Sterlinghouse-bookstore.com> for three dollars less than the June 30 price [sorry, fellas - little medical encounter m’self right then... ed.]. I went to NY for the BEA Convention and autographed copies. While there I arranged to see Michel Zaleski D’68 for the first time since he & I were hit by an avalanche on Mt. McKinley in 1967. It is pure quantum mechanics that he & I lived to tell the tale.” [Whoa! Ranks up there w/Theodore’s close call. ed.]Back to Top

Military Adventures. Still keeping this feature alive, we cite Henry Eberhardt posting the following items: “I came close to being skipper of a USN swift boat in 1969 in Mekong Delta but resigned instead, having served my eight years including a tour as operations officer on destroyer USS STICKELL DD-888 in the Tonkin Gulf with most of our duty gunfire support of Marines near Hue and plane guard for USS RANGER CVA-61 (yes 61!). Regarding wooden boats, I own a 1958 17' Lyman beautiful lapstrake runabout that saw many hours of water skiing on Cape Cod when my kids were of the water skiing age. It now awaits restoration by grandpa. [and what armament doth one add to a ’58 Lyman, skipper..?] When on ammo ship USS MAZAMA AE-9 in the Med a Russian cruiser the Dervhenski buzzed us at close range with gun mounts training and cameras rolling. Probably because our ship had been re-commissioned and wasn't in the Russian intel books. Scary anyway. When on destroyer USS STICKELL DD-888 we tracked a Russian sub in the Med for 3 days, longer than our intel pubs said it could stay submerged, and on the fourth day it surfaced right next to us and their CO sent us a "good morning captain" flashing light message. We then followed it to mother ship off coast of Morocco and then, after it replenished, we followed it to the Straits of Gibraltar and then said "so long safe trip." When on STICKELL we hunted Russian subs in the North Atlantic as part of ASW carrier USS ESSEX Hunter Killer Group. Refueling STICKELL from an oiler with an aircraft carrier on the other side in the Med, a Russian freighter steamed right at us and didn't change course, causing us to emergency breakaway with axes from the oiler. Then, in 1993, in Halifax I went aboard a Russian cruiser in port for a visit and spoke with Russian naval officers, telling them I was former USN, and they gave me obvious words of respect. That was a full circle experience. We should encourage other sea stories for WWW from our brothers in different branches. [of course, not many branches, other than Navy, have sea stories, but can tellya a buncha tank stories from dry land in occupied Germany... ed.] Back to Top

From Cartter Frierson: “Glad I did not re-up in Germany to make Captain 2 years early–that was the big push in 1963. Would have put me in ‘Nam, an altogether different world. How you been doin’ old Third Herd-er? Think about you often. So many great memories of college days and Germany. We were mighty fortunate our tours of duty did not come any later. Missed skiing this year, first time since college, but have not quit and have no plans to pawn my boards in the foreseeable future. I have written an article about starting the Chattanooga Ski Club for that History of Skiing book coming out at year-end. Art Kelton is a major contributor of material for it, my part is just an anecdotal article in the chapter on the ski club movement which exploded in the late ‘60’s. By the way, my doctor recently examined me and recommended “See Alice.” Got my curiosity up, if nothing else. Maybe you can clue me in here, old pal: how do I get in touch with Alice?”Back to Top

Retiree Fritz Kern notes: “My roomie, Tom McLaughlin, sent me the attached recent photo of himself and his dear wife, Sonya, taken at their beautiful homestead in Bend, Oregon. He's kinda shy and doesn't like touting his good looks and good fortune, so that's why I'm sending this along.”

McLaughlins in Repose.

Called Tom once we got settled in the new OR bachelor flat. Gave him my cell phone number. He responded: “Things are spiraling out of control. I think I have become lost in a world of electronic madness. One of my sons informed me this week that my cell phone has become obsolete and I must head down to the Cell Phone store and get a phone that is contemporary with the time. I pointed out that the fancy Razor/Slim line phone with camera built in that he made me trade my perfectly good flip-top Motorola cell phone for two years ago still works perfectly fine. Well, except for the camera thing. Never could figure that out.. Even the few times I actually did take pictures I couldn't figure what to do with them and gave up. That is except when I would push the wrong button and take a video of the ceiling or my feet.
Seems the issue is that I am unable to text with the tiny little 3 character buttons. "Hi, son," would come out looking like, "Gh Qmo." My grandkids have even spoken to my wife about Poppa's crazy text messages. Give me a break. Whatever happened to actually talking on a phone? Isn't that what they were invented for? They want me to get one of those phones that you can turn upside down and sideways and has a typewriter keyboard with keys about one-eighth the size of my pinky finger.
One of my four sons is a realtor whose real occupation is fly fishing.
"Way to go, son." Or in my text language, "Xbz um Io, rmo."
We were floating the Yakima River in his guide quality drift boat south of Ellensburg , Washington . We were miles from anything remotely resembling civilization. Rock canyon walls were on either side of us. Bear with me as I try to explain this strange thing. His "Blackberry "rang. It was blue and I asked him why it wasn't called a Blueberry. He shook his head with that "dealing with an elder" despair look I get a lot these days. It was another realtor who called to say that the sellers he represented had agreed to my son's client's changes and he had the signed documents in hand.
My son told him to FAX the papers to his office and he would get them signed and Faxed back, to close the deal that morning. A minute later the phone rang and he hit a few buttons and looked over the FAX, now on the Yakima River with us.
He then called his clients and told them he was Faxing the papers to them to sign and asked them to FAX them back to his office. While he was waiting, he hooked into a fat rainbow and was just releasing this 22 inch beauty as his phone rang again with the signed FAX from his clients.
He called the other realtor and told him he was sending the signed papers back by FAX. The deal was closed. He smiled and just said, "You are a little behind the times, Dad." I guess I am.
I thought about the sixty million dollar a year business I ran with 1800 employees, all without a Blackberry that played music, took videos, pictures and communicated with Facebook and Twitter.
I signed up under duress for Twitter and Facebook, so my seven kids, their spouse, 13 grandkids and 2 great grand kids could communicate with me in the modern way. I figured I could handle something as simple as Twitter with only 140 characters of space.
That was before one of my grandkids hooked me up for Tweeter, Tweetree, Twhirl, Twitterfon, Tweetie and Twittererific Tweetdeck, Twitpix and something that sends every message to my cell phone and every other program within the texting world.
My phone was beeping every three minutes with the details of everything except the bowel movements of the entire next generation. I am not ready to live like this. I keep my cell phone in the garage in my golf bag.
The kids bought me a GPS for my last birthday because they say I get lost every now and then going over to the grocery store or library. I keep that in a box under my tool bench with the Blue tooth [it's red] phone I am supposed to use when I drive. I wore it once and was standing in line at Barnes and Nobles talking to my wife as everyone in the nearest 50 yards was glaring at me. Seems I have to take my hearing aid out to use it and got a little loud.
I mean the GPS looked pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady inside was the most annoying, rudest person I had run into in a long time. Every 10 minutes, she would sarcastically say, "Re-calc-ul-ating" You would think that she could be nicer. It was like she could barely tolerate me. She would let go with a deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light. Then when I would make a right turn instead, it was not good. When I get really lost now, I call my wife and tell her the name of
the cross streets and while she is starting to develop the same tone
as Gypsy, the GSP lady, at least she loves me.
To be perfectly frank, I am still trying to learn how to use the cordless phones in our house. We have had them for 4 years, but I still haven't figured out how I can lose three phones all at once and have run around digging under chair cushions and checking bathrooms and the dirty laundry baskets when the phone ring.
The world is just getting too complex for me. They even mess me up every time I go to the grocery store. You would think they could settle on something themselves but this sudden "Paper or Plastic?" every time I check out just knocks me for a loop.
I bought some of those cloth re-usable bags to avoid looking confused
but never remember to take them in with me.
Now I toss it back to them. When they ask me, "Paper or Plastic?" I
just say, "Doesn't matter to me. I am bi-sacksual." Then it's their
turn to stare at me with a blank look.”

[I think I musta written that. But with the short-term memory deficit, can’t remember if my last name is Conger or McLaughlin... I do know my training wife is Sonya. Sonja...? ed.]Back to Top

Remembrances. Is it time for the sad news? Lost some fine classmates over recent months. David Birney writes: Tom Carter Halliday died.  My roommate sophomore year.  He graduated from West High in Cleveland in January '57.  I was in the June class, so I didn't really know him and had only been at West High School for a couple of semesters. He was his class Valedictorian, in the the band, ran track. A very gentle guy.  He roomed in Topliff in our freshman year, and we decided to room together because after our freshman year neither of us had any friends.  Well, that's not true, strictly, but no one who wanted to move to the new dorms out near Occom Pond.  
So we got a double, small,  two beds, two desks with a view of the pond. One morning I came back to the room and he was dressing in his blue suit. (his only suit, the one he wore to graduate from high school he told me) a white shirt, his  red tie, black dress shoes.  And he did that every day from  then on, never going to class, but to the library, instead, where he could "get an education," he said.  He announced,  solemnly, quietly, that he couldn't get an education in class, not these classes.

 Every day he put on his suit, carefully tying his tie, and went to the library, staying until the evening.  I didn't know what was going on.  And he wouldn't talk about it much.  The ritual was, apparently what he needed to do. He did this so quietly--strangely silent, composed--that the surreal nature of the gesture, the behavior, went almost unnoticed by our suite mates, unremarked, for a long time. He was clearly under a lot of stress.

 I spoke to my advisor about his difficulty  going to class, and also to one other professor, but nothing happened, nobody came to speak to him, nothing seemed to help, or change.  Perhaps he went to see someone, but the ritual remained the same.  At the end of the semester he disappeared back to Cleveland, the invisible silent man.  It was as if somehow the suit held him together until the end. A kind of armor, it seemed.

Later, much later, I realized what a nightmare that must have been for him. Realized too, how, perhaps I had let him down.

I didn't hear from him after that, didn't contact him when I went home...I don't know, it seemed a violation of his time and distance,  and I was probably relieved to have the whole thing over.
 He attended a local college there, studied engineering, apparently,   went off to Texas and worked for a couple of firms there, married, had two  children I think.  And now he's dead.  
I was terribly sad to read it yesterday in the Alumni Mag.

Dave Birney subsequently followed up some of the details (see deceased classmates on website) talked to Tom’s widow, and learned more about his successful career. He retired from a 37 year career with Battelle, first in Columbus , OH and finishing in Amarillo , TX where he was active in many civic organizations. Following that retirement, Tom became the Director of the Don Harrington Discovery Center  in Amarillo .  The museum’s mission  was to provide “ science and health educational programming and hands on science experimentation.”  It did so for a large geographic area serving the Texas and Oklahoma Panhandles and Eastern New Mexico .

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We lost Tony Wight on July 3. Jim Watson: “Tony and I roomed together senior year and have been in touch regularly. My last conversation with him was last Tuesday and his voice was still strong. We talked about the great times we had at Dartmouth and playing in the Sultans and the Barbary Coast together.
Tony's private burial was today in Croton - he did not want a funeral. I am told that there will be a memorial service at a later time at the T-Town nature center to which he was dedicated and did many hours of volunteer work. I am in touch with Susie and his sister, Judy, and will let the class know the date in case there are classmates in the area who would like to be there.”
Gim Burton: “tony and i reconnected about three years ago when he and susie attended a concert where my band was playing. since then we have played golf frequently and had a good time yakking about the old days.
just like welchie..another one gone too soon.
however, here's a touch of irony... the latest alumni mag has a picture of the barbary coast playing at college hall for dance just prior to our graduation...and there's tony behind the drums - skinny tie, narrow lapels and all.”
tc: “Tony & I had lost touch over the decades, but in the last year or so he reconnected admirably with his volunteer work at Teatown; in so doing, he/his good works were introduced to other '61s who would otherwise never have known what heroics can be performed on so [apparently] humble a stage.”Back to Top

Jack Heyde slipped away June 3, after a vicious battle w/the Big Cassino [are there any gentle battles with cancer..? ed.]--his second encounter. A Delt from Dayton, Jack was a Navy pilot, and then joined Bill Glenn, Cleve Carney, and the undersigned in the, uh, less than glamorous roofing trade. After retiring from Siplast in 2002, Jack wrote a fun book about baseball, involving the surviving yeomen of our day, what they did after MLB, and what their fondest memories were; he had traveled the country to talk personally with his subjects, and some of their views were most revealing. Somewhat surprising was the accessibility Jack found in contacting those old ballplayers. NF way with today’s zillionaire prima donnas.Back to Top

Bill Wood revealed that Dave Skuce is actually a certified geezer. He submits this note with a fine photo of the 70th celebration: "Dave had a big bash at his place in Fall River a week ago.  Fishing, golf, rodeo, good food and drink, great company.  Here's a shot of five sober guys  at Dave's place on the river

(L-R: Bill Bull, Barc Corbus, Dave Skuce, Jack Ladd '62, and me)."Back to Top

Missing '61s. As you know, we encourage ‘61s to take their WWW by e-mail. Harris has done a marvelous job corralling 200+ classmates who like their news fast, in color, and in greater depth (with links to illuminative data and sites). Please contact him at <h4mmckee***sbcglobal.net> and provide your current e-mail, even if you still want your newsletter in hard copy--we have far too many ‘61s with invalid or missing addresses. He has posted a No-Email List of ‘61s for whom we have no emails. Check out the list and let Harris know any email addresses that you know. We tip the ol’ lauhala hat to John “Coyote” Wilkins for the concept of publishing the MIAs, hoping they will surface.

That’s about it.

Maybe we should poll the class with a brainstorm that Bill Kandel came up with in Scottsdale: Shouldn’t we adopt certain objects as class totems in appropriate fields? LIke, do we have a class flower? Learning that the saguaro cactus doesn’t sprout arms until about its hundredth year, Bill thought that might add a note of longevity to our aging members. I mean, now that we have very likely lost the ability to really rock&roll, we could supplant our need to boogie down by hanging in there until we sprout arms--maybe new knees? Or whatever it is that Cialis treats...?
See Alice, gents.
Aloha,

PS -- Flash! This just in: in the Sunday (July 26) SF Chronicle, it was announced that Esquires FS Fields and WT Hutton were among the select few named as Northern California Super Lawyers. [not sure if the appellation includes the ability to fly, leap tall buildings, etc....ed.]

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