Class Notes | 1940s

The preceding issue of this magazine included notice of the 2013 death of Gene Noble ’47; but before leaving for WWII service, he was a member of our class. He was also one of the 13 of us from Wesleyan who enlisted in the Tenth Mountain Division, which distinguished itself in combat in Italy and revolutionized the post-war ski industry. So far as I know at this June writing, four of us may still be alive; of two I am certain. That division was unique in military history, and its story and Wesleyan’s chapter of that story deserve a place in the college archives.

My last column generated no influx of news from you out there, but I did receive one unsigned scribbled note telling me, “A curse on your nonsense blessings.” Alas, that anonymous curse lacks spirit, lacks sting; it has no hint of elegance. Consider, if you will, how the ancient Irish curser had a fearsome power. To offend him or her was to flirt with a fate that could last four generations. Every chief had his personal bard whose function was to eulogize his employer and to curse without end his employer’s enemies. Next to the bard in cursing power came the widow woman, and a widow’s curse is still greatly to be feared. The orphan’s curse was no joke, either, and the priest’s curse was to be avoided like the plague. There’s a whole litany of curses in the Irish tradition: the hereditary curse; the reverting curse; the ceremonial group curse; the historical curse (probably the best-known historical curse in Ireland is ‘the curse of Cromwell’; the saint’s curse; and the poet’s curse. They take too many words of explanation for these notes’ allotted maximum, so I’ll end with my favorite delineation, the cursing contest, which has an underlying hint of good humor today. In Sligo town I witnessed a cursing contest between a shopkeeper and a woman of the Travelers. They went at it with vigor until the shopkeeper delivered this curse: “May the seven terriers of hell sit on the spool of your breast and bark in at your soul case.” The Traveler woman defeated him with, “The curse of the goose that lost the quill that wrote the Ten Commandments on ye.” American English has no elegance or imagination in what we coyly call four-letter words. The loss of powerful cursing is appalling.

Slán go fóill

I’m sorry to have to report two more losses. George McFarland died Jan. 5, 2015, and Art Snyder died Nov. 11, 2014. Art was a member of Psi U and a fellow soccer player. They will be sorely missed, and our hearts go out to their families.

Hope you are surviving the weather all right. A little too hot for me, coming from New Jersey! On my follow-up visit to the surgeon, they found some more cancer, so I’ll have to go back for another operation—maybe this time they will get it right!

From Jack Ritchie: “You do good work. I recently got to the campus (in May). I went to hear the president do an update on the state of the college, at lunch in the ’92 Theater for old folks. I was the only ’43 graduate, and the oldest there. The lunch was free.”

I received a nice letter from Fred Mellor, in which he writes, “It’s been years since I reported in to you or your predecessor. You deserve a deal of credit for your effort on behalf of the class of ’43. My wife and I are still in our same home since 1954—in good health, except I fell down a set of stairs and injured my left leg—so that I now walk slowly with a cane. It forced me to give up golf at our country club—now we play bridge there instead—men with men, women with women. I still can drive the car easily, but no sports. Ben Buffham ’41 is the only Wesleyan and Beta Theta Pi fraternity brother I have left to communicate with anymore. It has been years since the last visit to Wesleyan. Well, Fred—keep up the good reporting—I enjoy your effort.”

Dick Ferguson writes, “Always so good to hear from you, and the Wesleyan news. There are not any ’43 guys here at Cranes Mill. There is Bob Foster ’45, who was two classes behind us. He, also, likes news! Both of us send our best to Bobbie.”

Gene Loveland reports: “All is well. Tried to win back the cup in the spring putting championship, but bowed to my nemesis who had five aces to my four. A great match, and another crack at it in October. Also, news for the fall! Labor Day weekend I will marry an old friend of ours from Hartford and resident of the Hallmark. A beautiful 93-year-old who went to Wes house parties in our era, with a Deke whose name she can’t recall. [Congratulations, Gene!] Five days later, on Patriot’s Day, I will be 95. Should be a good year. Onward and upward into the 21st century!”

I received a letter from Ken Williams in which he thoroughly chastised me for overlooking him as an attendee at our 65th Reunion. The only gatherings of the ’49ers my wife and I attended were Friday night and Saturday night dinners and, regrettably, I must have missed him at one or both of these. Audrey had knee replacement surgery only six weeks before the Reunion so we were mostly immobile that weekend and missed some functions that Ken may have attended. We left Middletown Sunday morning to travel north to visit our son, Bill Jr. ’71, in Grafton, Vt.

George Forbes was unable to attend our 65th Reunion but he sent a class note to Wesleyan in which he wrote of his 61-year-marriage to Shirley who, sadly, passed away in 2007. They had married when George was a freshman at Wesleyan in 1946. Recently, he married a long-time friend who had lost her spouse.

An appeal to my classmates….please send me a letter or an e-mail about yourself. My addresses are noted below.

William C. Brooks | williamcbrooks@comcast.net
9 Willow Pond Rd., Amelia Island, FL 32034

Please send updates to the editors.

Sandy Mclean | rmcleanjr@aol.com

2270 Melville Drive, San Marino, CA 91108

Jan and Doug Dorchester write: “This past year was difficult in some ways. Doug had a bad fall and cellulitis, followed by bladder cancer, and Jan had two surgeries. Our oldest daughter was divorced after a long marriage and our middle daughter was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s.

“On the positive side, we had another baptismal celebration and dinner on Oc.t 12. Doug baptized our twin great-grandchildren, Desmond Thomas and Evelyn Helene Currie, offspring of Tom and Rhobie (Langwig) Currie, of Ballston Spa, N.Y. We also had three grandchildren graduate from college in 2013 and all have good jobs: Marcus Engley in Seattle; Davita Cornfield in Albuquerque, and Christopher Dorchester in Bourne.

“We are 90; Jan has just completed Morse genealogy (her last). God’s love and grace have filled our lives, and joy is our constant companion as we approach our 70th anniversary on Dec. 15, 2015.”

Charles Hill| hillchas3@nyc.rr.com
Apt. 10-L, 115 East 9th Street, New York, ny 10003

The year 2014 ended on a sad note when I learned that John Maynard, David Williams, and Stewart Hancock died during the year. Each was a man of distinguished and humane contributions to our world. You can read more of their lives elsewhere in this magazine and online.

Early in this new 2015 I was thinking as I walked (carefully) about our 70th Reunion, wondering who may be blessed with the health and mobility to attend. I sneezed and immediately heard, “God bless you,” from a passing stranger. That old sentiment sent my memory back beyond Wesleyan to my childhood, and to Ireland. “Rushing the growler” is an adventure for a boy: there’s the law to get around. Literally; there’s the rush down the alley to the back door of the friendly pub; there’s the rush to deliver the growler (two liters of stout); then there’s the reward, rarely money, most often a blessing. I recall my first such reward from a retired policeman whose Sunday thirst I’d slaked. He looked at me straight in the eye, searched his mind’s store for a minute, then said: “That your shadow might never grow less, and that every hair of your head might become a candle to light your way to Heaven.” Reward enough.

Another blessing I recall with pleasure came from a Kerry woman to whom I gave a lift, squeezing her impressive girth into my little rented Opel. I took her a mile or so to the cottage where she maneuvered herself out of the car, put her hands on mine, and said, “That Holy Saint Christopher might always be a passenger with you, and that the Divine Infant might light your way both day and night.” As I shifted the gear back into drive gear, she smiled and added, “and that ye might have a bigger machine the next time we meet.”

The two-pronged blessing is just that, but it’s better than no blessing at all. An example: “That your enemies might be drinking bog-water while you’ll be drinking tea.” When Tomasin O’Scannlain died, I was honored to be a pall bearer at his burial. A lovely blessing came from a mourner who wished “that he might have a silver bowl in Heaven” and “that Moses and his men might be at the gate to meet him,” echoed by another. The old Irish were great at bestowing blessings, but the art has not died. Just take a stroll through any Kerry or Mayo or Clare byway and drop no more than a simple comment on the weather to any countryman or woman you meet, and I guarantee you’ll get a blessing in return if no more than “God spare you the health.” Still, that’s better than going through the world without a good word for anyone.

Looking ahead to our 70th Reunion, but not knowing at this January writing whether you’ll read this before or after, I’ll end with my own blessing to all of you ’45s out there. That a doctor might never earn a dollar from you, that the heart of you might never give out, and that the 10 toes of you might always steer you clear of all misfortune. And, too, that at Reunion’s fine meeting you might receive a blessing better than this one. Slán go fóill.

FRANCIS W. LOVETT | francis.lovett1@comcast.net
805 Compassion Drive, Apt. 208, Windsor, CO 80550
907/460-9338

Please send updates to the editors.

Tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday and I’m wondering what more the media can cook up against Bill Belichick ’75, Tom Brady and the New England football team—Go Patriots! I hope you enjoyed the holiday season and were not adversely affected by the extreme weather experienced in various parts of the country, including New England. We’ve been fortunate here in Virginia—have yet to see our “Big Snow” of the year!

Dick Ferguson writes: “We’re glad that you had a great recovery. Can’t keep a good man down. Marge still seems not quite fully recovered. Some days it seems she is sleeping 23 hours a day. We were so glad to see your write-up. We are lucky to have the children and grandchildren able to drop in to see us on their way to visit their children or grandchildren. Wish that I’d see more of Wesleyan men.”

From Gene Loveland: “The news from the Deep South is: Where did the warm weather go? I’m fine and still doing my monthly column for the House Organ plus write-ups of our four putting tournaments that I manage. In the fall events, I won the Sadie Hawkins Tournament with the lady champion but lost the Hallmark Cup I’d won in the spring to a challenger. Lots of football and politics, plus I enjoy a new book every two months or so. Have a good year!”

I received a letter from Jack Ritchie, in which he states: “Keep up the good work; sorry to hear of your bout with cancer. I grasp for news. Mostly we seem to be aimed at making sure we have no news. I spoke with Muzz Molina last spring and we were planning to get together in some restaurant between Salisbury and New Milford, Conn., where he lives, when he returns from his summer in Vermont. And now he is dead. Who will be the last classmate left standing? News? We are glad that we are where we are. We live in a cottage at a senior continuing care place, Noble Horizons, now 35 years old. It is part of Church Homes, Inc., a senior community in Hartford. We pretty much take care of ourselves, but have the option for bring-in meals, falling back into more care at a nursing home and other. There are many outings, cocktail parties, concerts, etc., where we may choose. News? Come to beautiful and freezing Salisbury, Conn., for a week, starting February 6.”

Frederick P. Appleton
100 O’Brien Court, Suffolk, VA 23434

The editors are deeply saddened to report the death of longtime class secretary George Morrill on Jan. 3, 2015. Please see further information in the obituary section and online.