Gentlemen of ’54: Thanks for prompt responses from eight stalwarts as we approach our 65th next year . . . Here’s what you told me: John Binswanger is doing OK, plus a lot of traveling—recently to Australia, the Bahamas, and Aspen. John’s company has been reorganized with a minority interest going to the sales staff. John’s been retired for nine years, but still goes into the office four days a week.

Bud Johnson and Lynn have three grandkids out of college, four still in, and one being teed up. Bud’s Navy pilot memoirs (unclassified version) were published in June. Their “reward” was a Baltic cruise to seven countries, then London.

Rod O’Connor writes that at 85 he’s finally stopped actively working and has given up his longstanding passion for golf—so as to be able to spend more time at their house in Aiken, S.C. Rod’s two daughters and four grandchildren are planning a major Thanksgiving fiesta there with 20 relatives from around the country.

Chuck Davis proudly reports that his granddaughter, Caroline, was a member of the U.S. Women’s World Junior Ultimate Frisbee Team that was undefeated in the championship games played in Waterloo, Ontario, in August. Caroline attends Dartmouth.

Ken Davenny has recently been through the flu, two types of pneumonia, and heart failure! His heart has been repaired, and Ken is now undergoing a lengthy rehab process, and, he writes, “I seem to be recovering well.” Go, Ken!

Jeff Lockhart’s two youngest granddaughters are at college in the Carolinas—one at Chapel Hill, the other at the College of Charleston. Both had mini vacations during Hurricane Florence.

Jules Schwaber and Evelyne, at this writing, are staying in Israel, in an apartment near two of their married sons and eight of their 10 grandchildren. Jules, who has been retired from medical practice since 2012, sends his best wishes to all his former classmates and their loved ones.

Lenny Stolba is still wandering around his refuge: 1.6 acres with seven structures, two horses, one pony, one dog, and a box turtle. His kids, grandkids, and one great-grandchild are all healthy. Len send cheers to all “WESU remainers.”

Finally, very sorry to report the passing of Bob Schnuer this summer.

Your scribe, Bob Carey, has been busy in Greenwich with volunteer work, which includes driving for Call-A-Ride as well as Meals-on-Wheels, and manning the phones at Community Answers. That’s it, guys. The 65th is practically upon us. Get ready!

Best to all,

BOB CAREY | popscarey@gmail.com
618 W. Lyon Farm Dr., Greenwich, CT 06831 | 203/532-1745

Response to our 65th Reunion continues. Sidney Alexander is disappointed to have missed, because he was not informed by mail. Unfortunately, I do not believe mail notices were sent: all was online, thereby missing some. Sid, a cardiologist, sees patients at the Lahey Clinic, teaches, and finds time for a little clinical research.

Clapham “Cope” Murray continues his acting career playing a senile old man in a wheelchair during the summer season. Cope lives with his son, his wife having passed away a few years ago.

In addition to spending time with his children, Eileen ’79 and Mike ’81, Jerry Patrick serves on two nonprofit boards and corresponds with Jim Waters ’52, who lives in Florida. Jerry planned to visit Cope in September followed by skippering bareboat a 44-foot sloop off the Maine coast. He is building an elaborate model of a 5th century B.C. Greek trireme used in the Persian War and he is also writing short stories.

George Anderson called, seeking a contact for Warren Eastman, our past class agent (which I do not have since he moved to Connecticut). George and his wife, Rue, of seven years, live in Savannah, Ga., as does Homer Eckerson, who sent me a message from Japan in August, where he was on a family vacation. After an aorta aneurysm four years ago, George has recovered sufficiently to shoot his age on the golf course—86. He finds water aerobics preferable to the gym.

Rev. Edward White checked in from D.C., stating he was fine, with a wife, five children, and 12 grandchildren—all doing well.

James Dutcher Griffis, a native of Troy, N.Y., a DKE, passed away July 6, 2018, in The Woodlands, Texas, where he had been living since his mobility decreased. He is survived by his son, four grandchildren, four great-grandchildren, and a sister.

Erik Sprague Taylor, born in Tientsin, China, a math major, and a Sigma Nu, died Nov. 27, 2017, in Denver, Colo. A long-term employee of the Colorado National Bank of Denver, he served as trust officer and head of the trust department. Active in the community he enjoyed hiking, backpacking, skiing, and especially his cabin in South Park. He is survived by his wife, Frances, three children, four grandchildren, a sister, and a brother.

Condolences to the families of Jim and Erik.

JOHN W. MILLER | Jwalmiller@aol.com
306 Autumn Court, Bartlesville, OK 74006 | 918/335-0081 

I had the pleasure of attending the 2018 Reunion weekend on June 26 with my wife, Barbara, hoping to enjoy an out-of-sync reunion with several of our classmates who indicated such a desire but they were no-shows so we had a pleasant time chatting with several representatives of the university at the post 50th Reunion lunch.

As is becoming usual, I have more sad news to report. Two of our classmates, Rev. Dr. Kenneth Warwick Taylor and William Ashley Morrill, died. Dwight Herrmann (my first roommate at Harriman Hall in 1949) wrote that Leslye, his wife of 56 years, passed away on May 30, leaving four daughters who were on watch with him. Leslye and Dwight attended our 65th Reunion in June 2017 and we extend our sincere condolences to Dwight and his family and the families of Ken and Bill.

Ken, 88, a leader in advancing LGBTQ rights within the United Church of Christ in Connecticut and nationally, passed away peacefully at Seabury hospice on Aug. 11, survived by Jo Anne, his wife of 66 years, along with his daughter, Janet, his sons David, Mark, Gregory, and Andrew and their families, including 11 grandchildren and one great-granddaughter, who were the joys of his life. Ken was born in 1929 at Women’s Lying-in Hospital in NYC, although he preferred to say he was born at Yankee Stadium. He married Jo Anne at the Wesleyan Chapel the day after graduation. He received a master of divinity degree from Virginia Seminary in 1957 followed by a doctorate of ministry, conferred by Hartford Seminary in 1978.

Bill, 88, died on July 25, at his home in Pennswood Village, Newtown, Pa., survived by his wife, Nancy Porter, and four daughters; Margaret, Carolyn, Elizabeth, and Janet, their spouses, seven grandchildren, and two great- grandchildren. After graduating from Wesleyan, Bill got his master’s in public administration in 1953 from the Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs, Syracuse University. He began his over 60-year career in public service in 1953, holding many influential positions. Bill was a true Renaissance man: wine enthusiast, accomplished cook, self-taught guitar player, author of illustrated travel journals, aspiring tennis player, impressive poet, singer of all Methodist hymns by number, and consummate workaholic.

More sad but uplifting news from Duncan Nelson, who included the following poem:

On hospice now, but no matter

Amidst whatever idle chatter

I might manage to have with you

I’m proud to be Class of ’52-

ln ‘48 a Harriman Haller:

If I had a dollar for each stair

I climbed I’d be a trillionaire,

Which I already am, having cast my lot

In with guys who helped me hit the jackpot

Of eight children and then the God’s plenty

Of grandchildren now numbering twenty

Upon whom the bard places reliance

On the ways they are using hard science

To bring about—and do so pro tem—

The much needed New Jerusalem!

Frank LaBella reported that he and Arlyne, both Middletowners, married on July 26, 1952, starting off at Vets Village during his MA studies at Wesleyan, and then Mudville (more barracks) at Emory in Atlanta, where he got his PhD. After various residences in Winnipeg, including a horse farm for 25 years, they are now in a senior residence. All his children—Jennifer, Michael, and Lisa, and granddaughter, Chloe—live in Winnipeg, which makes life very enjoyable. He is a professor emeritus at Manitoba University, still doing research and publishing.

Barbara and I spent an enjoyable two weeks in London, Paris, and cruising the Mediterranean, although (as a still practicing real estate attorney) she spent a lot of time working on two complicated transactions, despite the time change and difficult e-mail and phone connections.

My best wishes to all of you, and send me some news for the next edition!

Joseph N. Friedman  | jfriedman@regalnyc.com
400 East 56th Street, Apt. 28LM, New York, NY 10022 | 917/715-8881

Frank McCathran is living in a small subdivision in Germantown, Md., and he writes that one of his neighbors was originally from Uzbekistan.

Herb Lessow is doing well in retirement living in New York City.

Charlie Selig is enjoying a “wonderful lifestyle in Boca Raton, Fla. Truly one of the most beautiful spots in the country.”

Frank Hassell moved to his retirement home in Sarasota, Fla. He has become unable to travel, but his children and their families come to visit. At Wesleyan, he and his wife, Marjorie, and two sons had lived off-campus, sponsored by family and the G.I. Bill.

I have to report the death of Bill Steele in St. Louis. Until his final illness, he’d been very active, enjoying hiking, biking, and playing ping pong. He enjoyed kayaking, too. He never lost his sense of humor and ready smile. Following a memorial service, his ashes were scattered in the river he used to kayak.

David McMillan passed away late this spring, four days after the death of his wife, Margaret. He’d had a long and influential career in Delaware banking, serving as president and chief operating officer at the Bank of Delaware before his retirement. He was also the president of the YMCA of Delaware and held several high offices in the Episcopal church.

DAVID M. PHILIPS | davephilips69@hotmail.com
43 Cannon Street, Cranston, RI 02920-7620

Cliff Milner wrote, “Just reached 90 and am continually grateful for my good fortune with my good health. This despite my frequent visits to a wide variety of doctors! Keeping busy with many different things has been my secret. This is the third year I have taken a two-week cruise to somewhere. First, I did the Viking Cruise of the Danube and Rhine. Last year it was Norway and this June I hit my 50th state by cruising to Alaska. Back here at home, I am a volunteer at WXXI, our local PBS station helping at special events like last week’s open house or answering phones during fund drives. I get out to as many concerts (free ones!) as possible. I have a good friend with whom I share driving chores. That does remind me that my latest health annoyance is neuropathy, in which the feet become numb, which, in turn, makes me pay special attention to my driving!

“My wife, Lynn, passed away four years ago but I have my youngest son (56) living with me. As my daughter says, You can look after him and he can look after you! Good luck to all and stay out of those listings in the back pages of the alumni magazine.”

The Rev. Allen W. Scott died Aug. 20, 2018. After Wesleyan and Yale Divinity School he pastored his hometown church in East Lyme, Conn., and was a leader in the community. He is survived by his daughter, Margaret Watson, and sons MacKenzie, Alan, and Jonathan.

BUD DORSEY | margiedorsey5@gmail.com
121 Renegar Way #105, St. Simons Island, GA, 31522 | 912/638-5616

As far back as my memory takes me, I’ve wanted to be a poem. Barely a toddler, I was a blipping “Bad Sir Brian” for several tickly stanzas, and as a sturdy young couplet I knocked things off our mantelpiece. I grew apace to where, as a single quatrain, I met grave Alice and laughing Allegra, each saccharine enough to gag a goat, so I punched their lights out. By high school I was pretty much a ballad In the Yukon, but I sobered up enough to become a sonnet; alas, I couldn’t abide the heart-scalding decisions of abab, abba, 8-6, three 4s-plus-2 living, and so retreated to the sanctuary of becoming an elegy. That funereal life so fretted my natural inclinations that I burst from my cell with a limerickal yell to seek the company of a young man from Boston, another from Sparta, and their friend Titian, who seemed fixed on mixing rosematta. Briefly, then, I dallied in passionate uncertainty with Emily until she set me straight and sent me off to Wesleyan, where Frost and Snow gave me every day conversational skill and a permanent sense of the necessity ever to demonstrate good form.

War took me for nearly four years with the 10th Mountain Division, but I never found time to be any sort of poem except as a raggedy 90-pounds-of-rucksack chanty and a bit of R and R with Shapiro. Once back at Wesleyan, then grad school at Northwestern, and finally at the Royal Irish Academy I found my identity in the old world of the Celts: I turned out to be an epic. History of a people; pride in ancestry; desire to live in history; exhortations to followers; sustained majestic verse—all churning in me when I sang Achilles and Aeneas, when El Cid and Roland stood fast, when Cú Chullainn singlehandedly took on Maeve’s gang of cattle rustlers. I really came into my own when Neihardt needed me to go up the Missouri with friends Carpenter, Talbeau, and Fink, to crawl desperately with Hugh Glass, to voice Jed Smith’s wilderness gospel, and to mourn the murder of Crazy Horse and the tragic end of the Indian wars of protest. Yes, in this cultural dust storm we’re living in today, that’s what I am: an epic poem in a society that has no heroic’s mood.

Slán go fóill.

FRANCIS W. LOVETT | lovettfrancis@gmail.com

315 14th Street, Unit A, Windsor, CO 80550 | 907/460-9338