In a sympathy letter to me, The Rev. Frederick S. Wandall wrote that his wife of 53 years, Virginia H. “Ginger,” passed away on Apr. 7, and that her 82nd birthday on Aug. 11 was kept in memory of her. Since 2011 they have lived in Greenspring Village, a retirement community in Springfield, Va. They have a son, a daughter, and two grandchildren. At age 86, Fred still assists in weekly chapel services. He served parishes in New Jersey, New York, and Virginia, taught at St. Stephen’s School in Alexandria, Va., for 20 years, followed by 20 years at the Truro Church in Fairfax, Va. Our condolences and sympathy are extended to Fred and his family.
Jim Griffis keeps me posted, with an occasional e-mail, of his status as a displaced “Buckeye” in Texas. As a memento of track and field days, he keeps a 16-pound shot on his balcony, which he claims nearly exceeds his lifting capacity.
After attending my granddaughter’s May wedding in Michigan, I spent three-and-a-half months at the New York farm with my two ladies, a pit bull and long-haired Chihuahua, and enjoyed a week-long July visit from my son, who assisted with minor maintenance. Although much of New York State experienced drought conditions, our area was an exception, with ceiling-high corn and green lawns.
JOHN W. MILLER | Jwalmiller@aol.com
306 Autumn Court, Bartlesville, OK 74006 | 918/335-0081
In the last issue of this magazine (Issue 2, 2016), we mentioned having heard from Frank LaBella for the first time in decades. There is much more to add to what we reported therein. The following note from Frank contains two examples of his extraordinarily diverse career and life.
First, as a professor (now emeritus) in the department of pharmacology and therapeutics at the University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, Frank says, “My research over the years has been in several areas: neuropharmacology, narcotic drugs and endorphins, mechanisms of general anesthesia, neuroendocrinology, neuro-chemistry, neuro-toxicology, digitalis drugs, receptor pharmacology, aging, cytochrome P450, histamine as a second messenger, and novel technology to measure electromagnetic radiation.
“I am currently focusing on research and development of a novel, patented technology, arising from a discovery made some years ago with Dr. Carl Pinsky. A company, FIND Technologies Inc., was established with the goal of commercializing the invention. The FIND Sensor [Frank’s invention] detects electromagnetic energy that is emitted by all matter. The technology has a vast potential for practical applications, including uses in biology and medicine. The sensor reacts to changes that may occur when scanning a structure or individual, or when it is exposed to a substance or body or new environment. It can detect concealed explosive, radioactive, and other hazardous materials. Another potentially vital use is determination of changes in biological and chemical activity of growing and repairing tissues.” (As your scribe, Hal, transcribes this, he can only say, “Wow! This discovery and invention could change the way we address many of life’s challenges!”)
Second, not all of Frank’s life has been consumed with carryover from his time in the labs of Atwater. We mentioned his polo playing in the last issue. Here is his account of another extracurricular activity: “Would you believe that this son of Sicilian immigrants was an enthusiast not only of the idle rich’s pastime, polo, but of fox hunting as well? For several years, I was field master of the Springfield Hunt with our own imported English fox hounds. On Sunday mornings, the riders gathered in their pink or black coats, indication of station, drank stirrups of sherry until trumpeted by the huntmaster, who released the hounds who tore off in search of a fox scent. Now, before you accuse me of inhumane and unethical behavior, let me state that no live prey was ever at risk. Ours was a drag hunt. Early Sunday morning, a rider would determine the route of the hunt by dragging a sheepskin saturated with imported fox urine. This type of hunt is more active, since, unlike a live hunt, the hounds do not have to spend hours finding a scent. Furthermore, the scent can be directed at natural and other jumps and stopped so that hounds and riders can rest. And the drag can cover several miles and end at the starting point. The hounds are rewarded with chunks of meat. No better way to spend an autumn Sunday morning—and polo in the afternoon!”
Profs. Gortner, Gomez-Ibãnez, Sease, and others would probably not be surprised at the superb academician they helped spawn in Frank, but like his classmates, they would be astounded with his polo playing and fox hunting.
Bill Wasch ’52 and Willi Brenner ’52
Correction! Ron Daniel writes that John Jakobson was off when he said that he had first met Ron at Wesleyan 67 years ago (see class notes in last issue). Ron says it was actually 68 years, not 67. He kids that his old friend John “was never very good with numbers.” But Ron sure is. In his 15 years as treasurer of Harvard, its endowment rose from some $4 billion to $22 billion! We should have elected him treasurer of our class rather than vice president. Ron continues to work full time at McKinsey & Company, the global management consultancy he has served for nearly 60 years, including 12 as managing director. Ron also remains active in multiple business and philanthropic organizations.
Bill Wasch enjoyed a Viking cruise on the Danube River. (Incidentally, Torstein Hagen ’64, chairman and CEO of Viking River Cruises, spent time at Wesleyan as a foreign student.) After the cruise, Bill had a nice visit with Willi Brenner in Augsburg.
Finally, it is not too early to begin thinking about, or better yet planning to attend, the 65th Reunion of our class, scheduled for May 25 to 28. While you are at it, please let me (Hal) know, at least as of now, whether you are definitely, possibly, or definitely not planning to attend. I would like to keep everyone posted on who will be there. My contact info, preferably e-mail, is below.
Ken Barratt wrote from an assisted living facility in Green Valley, Ariz., some 25 miles south of Tucson, to which he and his wife, Sabina, moved two years ago. Ken reports he stays quite busy with a number of musical activities, including playing the piano in a 17-piece group. He also works with a trumpeter entertaining other residents in their assisted-living residence. Ken reports that he keeps in touch with friends through the Internet. Ken said he and his wife are in “reasonably good health.”
I also heard fromBob Willett, who is doing well in an assisted-living facility in Palm City, Fla. I also heard fromBob Hammett in Oak Bluffs, Mass., and fromJack Whiteman in Pittsboro, N.C.
I hope all you living outside of New England escaped the severe drought we’ve been having.
Cliff Milner in Rochester, N.Y., writes, “Here are a few items, some good and some not so good. I’ve gotten more daring in my old age (88) and rented a motor home so I could spend a weekend at a bluegrass festival down on Seneca Lake. It was marvelous, except for the damage that happened to the motor home! A few weeks ago, I signed up to do a Viking Cruise, and I’m excited about that, as it has been something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I will be going solo, as my wife passed away a couple of years ago.
“Now for the bad news. I got a call this morning from my son in Florida with the shocking news that his son had passed away. That is the second grandchild I have lost in the past year.”
Roger W. Haskell, M.D., Sigma Nu, writes, “The only news about guys from Class of ’50: Warren R. Kaufmann, Sigma Nu, died peacefully in his sleep on Feb. 18. Twenty-year history of Type I diabetes. For myself—continuing to enjoy my retirement here in South Carolina.”
We were pleased to hear from A.J. “Jud” Miner, Chi Psi, as follows: “On Dec. 22, 1951, Jean Bond, Mount Holyoke class of 1951, and Jud Miner were married in the worst blizzard of the year in Buffalo, N.Y. Jud was in the Army Medical Corps. Sixty-five years, five kids, nine grandkids, and five great-grandkids later we are celebrating our 65th wedding anniversary at Windsor Park Retirement Community in Carol Stream, Ill.
“Life after Wesleyan and the army has been eventful: chemical industry sales and management and bar-code label business, including two patents. Ten years as a commissioned lay Presbyterian pastor serving small churches in Missouri, and finally retired, living at Windsor Park. Current activities include roving reporter, Windsor Park news magazine, ECHO, singing in the Windsor Park Chorale, conducting Have Fun, Write Your Memoir workshops, leading occasional vespers services for Johnson Health Care, and one of the on-stage actors at Mighty Windsor Radio Players performances.
“Our travel has been stateside with visits to see family in Connecticut, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Arizona, and California. Next July we plan to go on an American Queen steamboat cruise, paddle-wheeling up the Ohio River with three other couples from Windsor Park. I’ve retained my membership in the St. Louis Writers’ Guild and continue writing short stories and poems. My latest poem, “Serenity at Age 88,” was written for our kids and has been published.” I have included Jud’s poem here for you all to enjoy.
I have now reached age 88
Moving nearer to Heaven’s gate
But with God’s grace I’ll stick around
And be with you here on the ground
My lower parts are crumbling clay
The upper parts are still okay
My legs are weak, my hips are sprung
But in my brain I think I’m young
And I have family to love
Before I graduate above
So itches, aches, and pains I’ll fight
And be upbeat both day and night
We can’t predict our journey’s end
We cannot see around each bend
But we can live each precious day
With God’s great love as our mainstay
BUD DORSEY | margiedorsey5@gmail.com
161 Shore Rush Drive, St. Simons Island, GA 31522 | 912/638-5616
This time around, I heard from one classmate, Ezra Zilkha, who wrote, “How wonderful to hear some news about you and Happy New Year! I am now over 90-years-old, and I know you must be, too. I always have such good memories of our friendship. Several months ago, I gave a talk at Wesleyan. I hope to see you the next time you are in New York and would love to get together for lunch.”
Since my previous column was written, I have received some memorable words from Donald Dunn: recollections of WWII Tenth Mountain Division combat in Italy, and of one especially vicious fire fight in which Staff Sgt. Dunn was given command of his platoon and led his men to the capture of a German-held hill where he was severely wounded. He remained in control until medics were able to evacuate him. For his valor, Donald was awarded the Silver Star Medal. I served in the same regiment as he did, and can fully appreciate his account—and my better luck.
Coincidentally, I received a letter from an Italian woman who is associated with a museum in Montese. Seventy-one years after our action in the Monte Belvedere region part of the Italian campaign, she wanted to know if I would share memories, pictures, or memorabilia of any sort with their museum, which she says is an “official Tenth Mountain Division museum.” I had great fun gathering bits and pieces of that segment of my youth to send to Italy. If any of you fellow ski troopers read this column, do send anything you remember and care to share.
I’ll close with a translation from a truly ancient piece of Irish poetry. It’s titled “After War,” and the lines say: “Now God be thanked that brought me from that hour / And gave me in the finish quietness / And quiet roads again, and quiet sleep. Foe, now friends, slán go fóill.”
FRANCIS W. LOVETT | lovettfrancis@gmail.com
805 Compassion Dr., Apt. 208, Windsor, CO 80550 | 907/460-9338
Today I was wonderfully surprised when Curtis Smith rang me up to say hello. He must have known I was up against a deadline, again!
I am guilty thinking that with only having two fellows of ’38 to speak with, I have all the time in the world. Which I do have, until I don’t!
Curtis Smith reports he is well. They are controlling his congestive heart failure as best as possible. He has joined a nearby church, which follows the Methodist belief. He enjoys singing along with the hymns. Curtis has also joined a chorus at his community. While he says he isn’t that strong at the singing, my guess is he sounds just fine. I am so happy to hear that music is back in your life via these groups, Curtis. He has had wonderful visits from all of his children. Just a few weeks ago, he was introduced to his first great-grandchild.
In another couple of weeks, all of his children and their spouses will gather to celebrate his 99th birthday on Oct. 28.
Curtis did want to say that he remembersFrank Conant ’39, who passed away on March 2 of this year. They met at Wesleyan when they became brothers at Sigma Chi. Curtis said Frank was the only person he ever knew that shared the same birthday as his. They spoke every year on their birthday, up until last year. What a wonderful connection to make 80 years ago!
I quickly called Art Kingsbury after my phone call with Curtis, to get his news. Art said, “I think I’m pretty well.” However, if I had called six weeks ago, things would have been a different story. Art had a detached retina, and while the operation to fix it is rather straightforward, the recovery is a quite a pain. If you are not familiar with the process, let’s just say, three weeks of NOT lifting your head is not easy. Thankfully they have great devices to assist one in recovery. The best device came from his wife, Dianne, who, to prevent Art from rolling off onto his side while sleeping, attached a bag of golf balls to the back of his pajamas. Brilliant!
As of late September, Art had been cleared to drive and play golf again. This Friday he will get back onto the greens. Congratulations on the successful recovery. Oh, and enjoy your latest addition to the clan, a great-grandchild due at the end of October. I believe this is number 11!
Politics didn’t come up this time around, but something tells me we will have much to discuss when the next deadline knocks on my door. It is such a pleasure sharing ideas and thoughts with these two remaining classmates. I miss having conversations with the fellows who have since gone on. This generation has such a valuable insight in our society today. I hope all classes that follow ’38 will record as much as possible. Having a perspective that comes from time on this earth is an asset.
Here’s wishing everyone much joy over the upcoming holidays, and a very happy 99th birthday to you, Curtis.
GRACE BENNETT, daughter of the late Walter V. Bennett ’38
8104 39th Avenue, S.W., Seattle, WA 98136
As we head into the summer of 2016, I am reminded of past notes full of the fellows sharing garden stories. As it is also the summer before the next presidential election, I am reminded of many political discussions with these wise men. But I am also reminded that many, many, years have passed since the scholars of ’38 walked on graduation day. Alas, the years have taken most of them away from us. No longer do we hear about the dinner-plate sized dahlias growing under Bill Heisler’s tutelage. I swear I can smell the peppers and onions that were grown and served at Joe Masselli’s house. We can’t forget the joy the cherry tomatoes brought Mac (Murdo) Dowds. If we listen closely we can hear the whoosh of the golf balls flying over the greens, the rhythm of tennis balls volleyed back and forth, and the background sound of baseball on the radio as they grab some supper somewhere else, somewhere other than this tangible earth.
Thankfully, I am honored to still have the opportunity to speak with Curtis Smith and Art Kingsbury, so I will share their news with you.
Curtis Smith has moved. While he is still in Rhode Island, he is now in the Tockwotton on the Waterfront and, by golly, he is just that. Curtis says his room has a lovely view of the Seekonk River. While it may be a bit fancy in style, he is doing his best to adjust. He has been dealing with congestive heart failure and, while it never goes away, he was in good spirits when we spoke. He has been very lucky, he says, with many visits from his children and added, “The grandchildren are very attentive to their grandfather.” Curtis also shared news that he became a great-grandfather, when his granddaughter adopted a little girl, and he is excited to meet her. He is still trying to find a congregation and a singing group to join. (We hope you find these groups, because we know how important they are to you.) He still reads and enjoys Wesleyan magazine.
It was in late March when Art Kingsbury and I caught up. He and Diane really enjoy having family nearby. They visit with those great-grandchildren frequently and are lucky enough to have four other great-grandchildren visit from the New England area. He’s in good shape, reporting that the leg was better now, so daily walks are back on the schedule.
Art did mention that he can’t understand how we can be living in a time that a person like Trump could be getting as far as he is in the election. Coming from someone who just celebrated his 98th birthday this past April I think this quote speaks volumes on the state of our nation. But we are not supposed to discuss politics, so on a final note, Diane is still enjoying raising her butterflies, releasing them into the world to do their work.
Here’s hoping everyone has a summer full of visits with friends and family. Until next time.
GRACE BENNETT
daughter of the late Walter Bennett ’38
8104 39th Avenue, S.W., Seattle, WA 98136
I wrote these notes in early May, the time of Beltaine, the ancient Celtic festival that marks the beginning of summer and all matters of fertility. You are reading these notes in early-to-mid August, the time of Lughnassa, the ancient Celtic festival that marks the beginning of harvest and the dying of summer into winter. Both festivals were observed with great bonfires and rituals of purification that sought bountiful crops, fruitful livestock, ample harvests, and good health during the bitter months of a cold earth. Well, Beltaine has evolved into May Day, and its sacrifices remain—if, indeed, the custom does remain—only in the hanging of May baskets. When I was young, we children made May baskets of wallpaper samples, or small berry baskets, or nut cups, or whatever container we could decorate with colored tissue paper and violets or pansies. Dandelions with tightly braided stems made handsome handles hanging our creations, which we filled with homemade fudge or stuffed dates, or even Necco wafers, when desperate. Hanging the baskets came at dusk. Each of us had targets: grandmother, favorite aunt, cookie-baking neighbor, but I recall that a winsome girl was my keenest excitement. I hung the basket on her front doorknob, or set it carefully on the top step. Now ring the bell or give a solid knock, and wait, poised for flight. Custom decreed that the hanger run and the hangee chase, catch him, and bestow a rewarding kiss. That was dandy if pursuer ran speedily while pursued, well, loped, but when where to hang the basket was determined by parental decree, I was ever an Olympic sprinter. None of this has much to do with class notes, but I am reminded of some pre-WWII Wesleyan “festivals”: idiotic freshmen fraternity quests; stupidly dangerous “guttering”; frosh-soph flag scraps. All these relics of immaturity long gone, I hope. But one festival I remember with affection is the interfraternity song contest that made for non-lethal competition in which the Crow House choirboys regularly prevailed. The sing has likely faded away along with some of the fraternities. I hope not, for such a mellow tradition deserves to linger, along with the May baskets. Slán go fóill
I received a very thick booklet of art work from Dave Richards, and very impressive art work it is. The subject matter is varied, ranging from private dwellings to churches to sailing vessels to landscapes and even to Christmas cards. All of it is in black and white, obviously copies of originals. The volume of work and its quality suggests that a good deal of Dave’s time is spent producing it.
In addition to his art work, Dave is apparently an author, as he states in his cover letter that he is “currently working on what will complete my Broadfield series of sea stories.” He has also written a collection of short stories, Pollen in the Wind, about families moving westward following our civil war years.
Dave lives in a retirement community, The Nottingham, in Jamesville, N.Y.
