Tag: 1956

From Bob Calvin: “We have lost many friends recently and others are ill, all of which is very sad. On the positive side, Jane and I are chugging along. We’re happy that granddaughter Zoe will attend Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs this fall on a full scholarship. We do Zoom with Art von Au and Ronna, who seem to be doing well. I am smiling.” 

             Sandy Mendelson writes: “Irene and I still live in Bethesda, having just celebrated our 65th anniversary. Thankfully we’re in pretty good shape, able to take advantage of D.C.’s cultural resources and our lively synagogue. As the pandemic began, I retired after nearly 53 years in cardiology at MedStar Washington Hospital Center. I’m continuing my (remote) role as consultant in bioethics. On our last long international trip a year ago, we both got COVID in Jerusalem, a bit more of an adventure than we had expected. This summer we’ve been to Canada and to the Aspen Music Festival. Our three children, their wives, and our six grandkids are in various locations, in a variety of study or work, which adds pleasure and surprise to our attempts to keep up with them.”

             And David Fricke: “Beryl and I are doing well in our home in Silver Spring, Maryland. All visitors welcome!”

             As for the Chiens, Ann and I have had a fairly active summer. In May we attended the graduation of our one-and-only granddaughter, Jeannette, from the University of Vermont. Jeannette majored in Latin and (like our daughter Judith ’84) Classical Civilizations. She will return to UVM on a full scholarship to pursue a master’s degree. In June, our children (and granddaughter) took us to visit my 93-year-old big brother Alan Chien ’52, MAT ’54, who lives in Wisconsin. We hadn’t seen Al since the 2008 total eclipse. He’s lost a little height and has recently acquired a pacemaker, but he gets around quite well. A retired art teacher, he draws every day. In July, Ann and I drove to the Adirondacks for her 70th high school reunion. Three (of 29) classmates attended. And now (in August) we are off to our annual Chien family reunion in the Catskills. In September, we’ll rest.

             Incidentally, Dick Bauer’s email was hacked. Contact me if you want his new one. 

***

             After our last WesMag deadline, but in the month before its publication, our class suffered the loss of five classmates. Here are my thoughts.

             Whit Rusk was one of our best-ever feel-good stories: after a long struggle with cancer, he actually won! But sadly, cancer returned last year, and Whit succumbed this April. Gordy Krause spoke at his memorial service at the church in Haddonfield that was founded by Whit’s great-grandfather.  

             Whit was my sophomore roommate and despite our differences in height (6’4″ vs. 5’7″), sleeping habits (early to bed vs. night owl), and fandom (Philly vs. Big Apple), it worked. Whit had tried out for freshman football and baseball but didn’t play on the varsity. Instead, he and I were stalwart teammates on the Lodge’s intramural football, basketball, and softball squads. Whit developed an unfair reputation for clumsiness, but he was really a fine, under-appreciated athlete. Was he still growing into his 6’4″ frame? Our junior year, we split up. I roomed with Tom Reed ’57 and Whit teamed up with Henry George Hager III. Whit and Merc (HG is the chemical symbol for mercury) were a good match. Perhaps it was their similar heights. Or the fact that both were sons of alumni. Or was it the III at the ends of their names? Whatever it was, they clicked. Whit and I only saw each other once after graduation—a chance encounter on a street in Manhattan—though I later missed him one other time, at a Homecoming game on Adrus Field when he and his wife, Pat, were sitting in the visitors’ bleachers, rooting for their grandson, an (gasp!) Amherst Mammoth! (A list of Whit’s grandsons’ alma maters, by the way, reads like a who’s who of elite Eastern colleges. In no particular order: Bowdoin, Amherst, Tufts, Lafayette, and RPI!)

             But we stayed in touch for all these 67 years. So, goodbye, dear friend. Thanks for the memories.

             Dr. Donald Price died on May 5, 2023, at his home in Greenville, North Carolina. He is survived by his wife, Helen, of 67 years, three children—all physicians—and a number of grandchildren. Don grew up in Stamford, Connecticut, and came to Wesleyan with impressive athletic credentials. He fulfilled those expectations as a multiyear participant in two sports—basketball and baseball. Don was always friendly, always unassuming, always pleasant to be around. It was not beyond imagining that he might settle into that genial, comfortable jock life so often adopted by successful athletes, but instead he graduated as a dedicated Shakespearean scholar, thanks to the influence and enduring friendship of Fred Millet, Wesleyan’s iconic champion of the humanities. Professor Millet not only exposed Don to Shakespeare—which was to become his lifelong passion—but gave him a new vision of what his life could and ought to be. When Don graduated from Wesleyan, he had two potential paths: Shakespeare or medicine. Professor Millet helped Don to choose against his own field. Don would always have Shakespeare, but in medicine he might be able to make an even greater contribution to the well-being of his fellow inhabitants of this world—which he most certainly did. Dr. Donald Price became a tireless advocate for the treatment and examination of neuropathology and related conditions, such as Alzheimer’s disease. He conducted countless studies and wrote numerous papers, earning great respect and esteem as an expert in the field. To his peers, Donald Price was recognized as “a giant.”

             A few years back Don spoke at a Wesleyan Commencement weekend. He was the same guy I remembered, just more awesome. To me, Don Price was/is the quintessential Wesleyan grad.

             Jim Gramentine and I existed it different universes. He ventured far and wide from Western Reserve Academy in Akron, Ohio, to find Wesleyan. I was a legacy from neighboring New York State. A government major, Jim quickly became a campus-wide leader, while I hunkered down in the bowels of Judd Hall trying to make sense of Bartók’s string quartets. And, of course, he became an all-New England champion wrestler. The sport of wrestling had been unknown to me, but I was eventually drawn into that world when I roomed with Kent Davies ’57, who, along with his twin brother, George ’57, joined Jim in earning that distinction. After graduation, Jim took a government job, but soon realized that it was not his calling. He turned instead to education, serving as teacher, coach, administrator, and headmaster at schools in five different states. Ann and I befriended Jim and his wife Ray (née Sarah) in Jersey when they were based in Princeton. By the time we later visited them at their home, when they lived in a suburb of Milwaukee, I think I could safely say that our universes had merged and that we had become close friends. But I never learned whether Ray accompanied him on his annual pilgrimages to the national college wrestling championships in Iowa. This I do know: Jim’s very last act—on the day that he died—was to present a Mother’s Day orchid to Ray.

             Dick Irwin remembers: “I note with sorrow Jim’s passing. He and I were teammates through our junior year on the wrestling team, a period which coincided with Hank Elespuru’s tenure as coach. For reasons not clear to me, Hank insisted that Jim and I work out together on a daily basis. We made a poor match. Jim was the bigger, faster, and stronger of the two of us and I absorbed daily beatings. I did get the advantage of working out with the best. I am not sure how I helped Jim (although he did win the New England championship.)

             “In our opening meet freshman year, Jim started at 137. Halfway through the match he asked the referee for a short break, explaining ‘it’s my heart.’ Needless to say, the referee (and some of his teammates who were unaware of Jim’s non-life-threatening heart issue) were extremely upset. After hurried explanations, the match continued and Jim went on to an easy victory.

             “Jim was a natural as an educator. My standout memory of him is a person who cared about other people. His kindness and consideration for others ran deep.”

             And John Foster: “Jim was to me a class act, which can have many meanings, but to me, a strong, solid, quiet, sincere, and a friend I suspect to most he rubbed elbows with. Ray is a special person too. It was a lot of fun having her with him for a lot of our weekend bashes which Jim didn’t not shy from. He is one I would have very much liked to connect with after Wesleyan to deepen our relationship. He’s a man to remember fondly.”

             From my book:

THE BRIDGE AT BORDEAUX

             My Wesleyan classmate Jim Gramentine once mentioned that he was born on the very same day as Brigitte Bardot—adding that he had seen a recent photo of B.B. and wondered, now that they together had passed the four-score milestone, whether he might be catching up with her in the looks department. It reminded me of an incident on Ann’s and my tour around France in 2004. As our bus approached the city of Bordeaux our guide, Elisabeth, pointed out a local landmark. She claimed that on one tour when she identified it by calling out, “There’s the Bridge at Bordeaux,” some of her then touristes (mostly male) had been disappointed because they thought she was signaling to them that they would catch a glimpse of a certain famous French film star—which unfortunately they were not. I asked her: “If those folks want to see The Brigitte Bardot, shouldn’t they start looking at Brest?” She made me come to the front of the bus and repeat it for the group. It was well received. 

             As for Jim: Sorry, but you may still have a little way to go.—George Chien

             Gary Miller died on May 20. He left behind his wife, Margorie of 66 and a half years, four children, and five grandchildren. Gary was employed by DuPont for 35 years, which included extended overseas assignments in Iran and the Netherlands. He and Marge retired to Surf City, South Carolina, until recurring hurricanes chased them inland. They had a summer retreat on Sheepscot Lake in Maine. Retirement opened their door to extensive world travel, as if their years in Holland and Iran hadn’t been enough. Gary was inveterate tinkerer, a helpful neighbor, and a genial host. As Marge tells it, she met Gary on a blind date at Wesleyan. When she got home after that momentous date, she announced, “I have just met the man I’m going marry!” Which she did.

             Ken Spencer is probably best remembered as a member of the soccer and squash teams. After graduating, Ken signed up and thus became a proud Cold War veteran. Back in civilian life, he started and ran his own business in pension administration until he retired 40 years later. Ken was a dedicated family man. He had six children, and his second wife, Meredith, had three. They lived mostly in New Jersey, but he had long family ties to Vermont, where his ancestors had settled in 1768. He loved sharing his family stories to enthralled listeners. Ken was multitalented—a piano virtuoso, but also on the banjo or guitar to accompany his singing. And he was a poet, writing and publishing several books of verse.

Here is one:

The Three-Legged Cat

Once there was a young lad
with a baseball bat
a ball and hat
Then there was an old man
with a cane and hat
and a three-legged cat
And in between the lad and man
a jar of laughs and a jug of tears
and a basket full of torn up years

Ken Spencer was his own man. He will be missed.

Five friends. Good men, all.

Walter Ebmeyer writes: “A short note to assure you I am still alive. Now living in an ‘old folks’ home in Silver Spring, Maryland, just outside northwest Washington. Two wonderful children and six grands.” From our perspective, Walt, that’s not just news—it’s the best possible news.

More good news from Bob Bretscher: “I’m now in my very well-equipped retirement home at Presbyterian Village in Athens, Georgia. My phone number is unchanged. Naturally I miss sweet Ann. My warmest best to you all.”

Jim Gramentine puts a positive spin on not-so-great circumstances: “Was there a holiday season at the end of last year? I’m rather hazy about that but now, mid-February, I seem to be mostly out of the fog. The culprit was a rare E. coli infection in my left calf and knee. Two operations by different surgeons, with four incisions, quickly followed diagnosis. After a week in two hospitals and four in rehab, I talked my way into coming home. Since then, I have progressed from a wheelchair to a walker to a rollator. Still can’t walk, but that will come.” Jim and Ray have relocated from suburban Mequon to big-city Milwaukee—with a great view of Lake Michigan.

Overlapping reports from Dick Bauer and Jim Wagner.

From Dick: “I’ve been in touch with Jim Wagner, nudging him to contact my brother, Doug, who had just moved into Greenspring, a CCRC in Springfield, Virginia. Turns out they are near neighbors and have connected. Small world department.

“Recently I joined with one of our residents, a superb classical pianist, to do a concert in our main auditorium. I delved into the American Songbook, picked out nine songs on the theme of time, memory, and making the most of our twilight years. Among them were The Way We Were, Kisses Sweeter than Wine, and Here’s to Life. I can’t say it was Kennedy Center performance level, but the audience was great, and it was comforting to be able to make even a modest contribution to others’ flourishing.”

Now from Jim: “I finally met Doug Bauer. Doug just recently moved into the Greenspring senior living community here in Springfield, where my wife and I have lived the past three years.

“I recently gave part one of a talk on the history of weather forecasting to a group called the Science Forum here at Greenspring, one of over a hundred clubs and interest groups here. Part two is coming up at the end of March, where among other things, I will discuss chaos theory. This interesting subject, which explains why weather forecasts will never be perfect, was discovered by Ed Lorenz, one of my professors at MIT, while I was there studying meteorology after graduating from Wesleyan.

“On Valentine’s Day, my wife Betty and I participated in a wedding-vow-renewal ceremony along with several other couples who live here. After the ceremony, we were given a champagne and wedding-cake reception, followed by dancing, which all of us were still able to do (more or less)! Several of our children and grandchildren were also present and had lots of fun.”

John Foster writes: “Lila and I have been fortunate in many ways over our 60-plus years of marriage. The only unfortunate happening was the loss of our dear daughter at the age of 27 while traveling in Nepal. Perhaps the most fortunate was my averting a plunge into the depths of Alzheimer’s thanks to participating in a drug trial that overall had questionable benefits to most of my cohorts.

“We continue to be able to live in our home of 50-plus years in Marblehead. I am trying to stay fit enough to handle household chores by participating in an aqua exercise class at our excellent Y.

“We are again fortunate to have cultural opportunities nearby: a lecture series from a historic social club in next-door Salem; two small but worthy symphony orchestras are in the area. We recently heard an extraordinary and serendipitous concert with an outstanding young Japanese violinist who dazzled the audience in Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.

“Our best to you and all.”

Finally, from Bob Calvin: “I have been meaning to wish you a happy Chinese New Year of the Rabbit. Did you celebrate with moon cakes? I remember you used to take the ‘children’ into the city to see the parade and festivities. Jane and I visited some Chinese friends who recently moved here from Beijing for a delicious New Year’s meal of dumplings and exotic tea. Not much news at this end, which maybe is good.” 

To Bob: No moon cakes here. General Tso’s chicken and moo shu pork instead, with “the children,” their partners, and our one and only granddaughter, a UVM senior.

Paul Weston writes: “I came to the green, tree-lined Wesleyan campus from the windswept plains of Oklahoma in 1952. Graduated in the 1956 physics class of eight bright young men and went on to graduate work at University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. A friend from Wesleyan also came to Illinois, and introduced me to my future wife, Patricia, a grad student in chemistry. After 59 happy years together, she sadly succumbed to pancreatic cancer five years ago. Our granddaughter is just now starting a law career in Chicago.

“At U of I, I spent some years in a research group calling itself ‘The Biological Computer Laboratory,’ engaged in the then-new field of cybernetics. Among other things, it contributed to the body of theory underlying current artificial intelligence. Only now, with thousands of times more powerful technology, do we have working examples. (And recognition of the very real potential danger.)

“While a grad student in BCL I claimed my personal ‘15 minutes of fame.’ To show a machine capable of apparently intelligent human behavior, I designed and constructed an electronic device which instantly (well, a tiny fraction of a second) counted the number of objects in a two-dimensional field, regardless of size, shape, orientation, things inside of holes in other things, etc. It was shown on national TV, in a science magazine show hosted by Walter Cronkite.

“When Patricia and I retired from UI in 1998, we launched 20 great years of world travel, in ocean and river cruises, covering all the world’s oceans and continents, and many of its navigable rivers. This fulfilled Pat’s lifelong desire for travel, and I was a happy fellow traveler. The world’s great waterfalls, the dragon-tooth mountains of China, the spiritual aura of Paris’s Notre Dame, the sheer beauty of the Taj Mahal, the utter horror of Auschwitz, were our continued education.”

Our newest ’56 author is Peter Johnson. His book, published by Amazon/Kindle, is entitled Creating New Policy for the Caribbean Basin: The Story of Caribbean/Central America Action. It’s a substantial book—500 pages, including appendices, index, and testimonials—not exactly light reading. It will have some relevance to President Biden’s initiative in Central America. Now retired from the Foreign Service, Peter lives in Mazatlan, Mexico.     

From Dick Smith: “After graduating, I lived in a number of places as I received my medical and research training, including New York, New Jersey, Washington, D.C., Albany, and Maine. I am, of course, now retired after 35 years of medical/research work and another 20 years of eye research at The Jackson Laboratory in Bar Harbor, Maine. My wife Linda and I have been together for over 50 years and continue to live in Maine.”

Bob Calvin reminded me that the Linden Pond diaspora included Ronna and Art von Au, as well as Ginny and Dick Bauer, and also Bette and Alan Grosman.

Bob remembers: “I was best man at Alan’s wedding to Bette. Alan graduated Phi Beta Kappa at Wesleyan and went on to get an MA in political science from Yale, and a JD from the NYU Law School. Back in New Jersey, he joined the family law firm and was a leader in the practice of family law. He spoke many languages, especially Spanish, and was very active in the Cuban community. Another passion was playing the piano. One weekend when we were both living in Boston, we went to a backstage party after a Tanglewood concert. Alan decided to play some show tunes on the piano, and the performers sang along! Alan was a warm person who made friends easily. He will be missed.”

Writes Jim Jekel: “The main news from here (other than I am getting old and creaky) is that my beloved wife of 64 years, Jan, died of cancer in August. Our daughter has lived with us, so I get lots of help, but I am finding that downsizing is more difficult than anticipated.

“I roomed with Al Grosman one year (five of us in a suite at Sigma Nu), and he was a close friend.”

David J. (not W) Cox: “I have been widowed for the second time. Tamara (Compton) died on November 13 after five years of progressive liver failure ended by kidney disease. My three sons have helped me manage combined grief and practical problems. I am knocked down but otherwise in good health and will stay in our house in Leisure World, Maryland, for a while yet.”

Writes Mort Paterson: “My wife Susan, only 68 years young, is both my computer/cell phone techie and my travel agent. Last October went to France. Paris first: the Louvre and Musée d’Orsay, and a quick look at where I lived junior year abroad. Good small restaurants still. Saw a fine Cenerentola at L’Opéra. Then to Eze, a small medieval hill town near Nice, overlooking the Mediterranean. (The two together have been called the ‘Nice ‘n Eze’ trip.) Steep streets, no cars. Just managed to keep up with Susan, but not on the rocky 2-mile Nietzsche’s Path—seems he loved Eze, wrote some Zarathustra there—down to the sea. In all, a great trip, but travel seems harder these days. I am very lucky and thankful I could do the trip.”

From Bob Bretscher: “All is well with me and my three daughters’ families. However, normal aging suggests that I move into Presbyterian Village retirement community here in Athens sometime this coming February. Best wishes to all and to all a good 2023.”

Finally, from John Foster: “I’m gratefully above ground and managing the vicissitudes of our age; enjoying my wife, our house, aging in place, and fortunate to have a little help along the way including our two sons [who] are also living in Marblehead.

“Would enjoy corresponding with any interested class members: harboradv@aol.com.”