Volume Five – No. 2 March 2012

Volume Five – No. 2
March 2012
Scribe – Dave Halloran
Publishing – Bill French
Chairman – Harlan Fair
Treasurer – Dave Donovan
Reporting Staff – Entire Class
That best portion of a good man’s life, His nameless, unremembered, acts of kindness and of love”
Our Secretary and Alumni Magazine Editor, Dr. Mark Smoller, has made a collection of Donald’s
expressions from his many writings, has written about them, and written about Donald. As we approach the magnificient monument to our lives together, our 60th Reunion, and on the heels of the
Class’ extraordinary gift to the Dartmouth of the Future, the Class of 1953 Commons, your newsletter staff just felt it would be warming, yea inspiring to hear from a few tidbits of one of our Stars
of Forever, with the expressions of his heart. It is a heart that reaches out to the all of us in Spirit of
1953; yes, Don’s heart reaches out to the Universe itself.
Donald Carpenter Goss’ arrival in Hanover was preceded by a line of 86 relatives that began with
Josiah Carpenter, Class of 1787, and which continues today with his grandson Nathaniel Goss, who
will enter with the Class of 2016. So it was not unexpected that young Donald would be devoted to
this place and its people. His father and uncle preceded him to Hanover. They lit the original spark,
but it remained for Dartmouth itself to kindle spark and to capture Donald’s heart; Dartmouth did
not come up short.
“You’ve got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your grandfather was”
Donald entered our class a graduate of Phillips Andover Academy, and having been steeped in the
traditions of that place and reared in a loving, generous, spiritual home, was prepared to subsume
whatever Dartmouth could throw his way. He absorbed the Dartmouth mystique completely, and
young Donald would become as devoted an alum as there has ever been, one who was ever-exited
with loyalty, concern, and love for the College and all of its citizenry.
If you can imagine it, you can achieve it. If you can dream it, you can become it.
Dartmouth was to be an incubator for Donald, a place where he began to fulfill his potentials, not
only academically, but socially as well as spiritually. He was hooked as soon as he stepped onto the
campus, and in the process, began his career, his vocation and his many avocations. He
Class E-Addresses for News
Class Mail Address for News: Fax: 407-862-4261
[email protected] Dave Halloran-Newsletter/Website
Dave Halloran, 700 Spring Valley Road,
Altamonte Springs,Florida, 32714 -5820, or
Mark Smoller, 4 Schuyler Drive, Jericho,
New York, 11753-1912
[email protected] Mark Smoller-DAM and Newsletter
[email protected] Bill French-Newsletter Publishing
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Volume 5 Number 2 March 2012
nurtured his love for the English language through relationships with a variety of professors who saw in Donald the light of a gifted writer. That love for language remained
strong throughout his life, so strong in fact that he saw himself as a preserver and would
never under any circumstances succumb to the “crass, coarse electronic invader, the internet.” At Dartmouth, he took courses wherein he would ingest and absorb all the subtle
nuances of his native tongue and of his literary icons. He challenged his professors who,
in turn challenged him, and sent him off with a command of our language which he exercised and augmented through the years as he inspired his clients, their customers, as well
as his classmates until his passing.
We are going to have a little more of Donald in each letter, as admired and inspired
through the gentle touch of Mark’s literary acumen. We know you will enjoy that: it will
keep Donald’s spirit with us, always. For those of us tuned to the spiritual, we know that
he will enjoy staying in touch. Besides, that is what he requested of his electronic internet
successor, and, if obliging, said he could wear one of his shoes!
The Sixtieth Reunion, June 13 to 16, 2013 —
Y’all Come on Up, Y’ Hear!
Harlan Fair reports that the Memorial Service for our 60th Reunion, always a centerpiece
of any reunion, has already been organized!! “That is amazing” said I, and how did that
come to be. Harlan confessed that he had little to do with it but that, inasmuch as Don
Goss was always the heir apparent to be Chair of this event, that he organized that just
a few weeks before joining his Creator. “It was just a few weeks ago that he invited me
to his house where he presented me with a two page typewritten list of planning ideas.
He had an outline for the memorial service/ concert that follows his previous highly
successful and rewarding services for all our reunions; i.e. The Three Bells, The Lord’s
Prayer, Dartmouth Undying, Men of Dartmouth, Widor Tocatta and select songs by the
Dartmouth Aires. Don suggested Len Gochman as the MC and Chair for this momentous
event, and Len has already agreed. We therefore are in good hands along with John Kennedy, Ron Lazar and others that have supported the memorial service in the past. I have
talked to Joanie Whiting about her availability. Donald will have his imprint on our 60th
reunion, and is anybody surprised??
CLASS OF 1953 COLLEGE FUND and THE DONALD
CARPENTER GOSS DARTMOUTH COLLEGE FUND INITIATIVE
The following is an updated interim list of gifts for the Dartmouth College Fund received
by February 24th from our very generous classmates. The highlighted names are those
who have elected to be part of our presentation to the Goss family in honor of Don by
giving an amount that represents an increase over their last year’s gift. The starred names
are those who have elected to be Special Supporters of Don by increasing their gifts by
20% or more or who have returned as donors after an absence. The second interim list
is of our very generous widows and adopted classmates who have done likewise. There
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is still time to join this august group. We have until the end of June to register your new
or additional contribution to the college fund. Each gift will be eligible and added to the
presentation in honor of Don as outlined above.
Ralph Adams *
Raymond Alexander *
Byron Allen
Arthur Amick *
Paul Arenberg
Gerald Avanozian *
Abdul Bahrani
Lawrence Barnett
Philip Beekman *
Harry Bennett
Neil Bersch
Putnam Blodgett *
Richard Blum *
Edgar Boody
Herbert Borovsky
Daniel Boyd
Thomas Bradley
Donald Bremmer
Stephen Brown *
Nathan Burkan
Curtiss Bury *
Frederick Bush
Hubert Bush *
Richard Cahn *
Richard Calkins
John Camp *
Fred Carleton
Seth Carpenter *
James Cartmell *
Warren Cassidy *
John Cernius *
Frederick Chase *
Harry Cherry
Leo Clancey *
Richard Collins
Allen Collins *
Edward Condit
Richard Confair *
Paul Dillingham *
John Dodge
William Dolan
Thomas Dyal *
Paul Emery *
Frederick England *
Frederick Entwistle
Aaron Epstein *
Daniel Ernst
Robert Fahrenholz
Harlan Fair
Scribner Fauver
Richard Fleming *
David Florence *
David Folger *
Stuart Fordyce *
Robert Foster
Anthony Frank
Adolph Franz
William French *
J. William Friedman *
Henry Fry *
Laurence Garvin *
Frederick Geig *
Richard Giesser *
David Godchalk *
Richard H. Goodman *
Werner Graeve *
Edwin Grant
Richard Greene *
Peter Grenquist
Everett Haggett
Richard Hall
Jackson Hall
Dave Halloran *
Wayne Hansen
John Harris
Robert Heilman *
Mayo Johnson *
Gaylor Jones
Wayne Keller
Lawrence Kelly
John Kiernan
James Kiley
Stanley Kimmel *
William King *
Herbert Klagsbrun
Edmund Knapp *
John Koerner *
Richard Kuhn
Ronald Lazar *
Arthur Little *
Richard Loewenthal *
Robert Longabaugh *
Richard Mainzer *
Robert Malin
David Martin
Peter Mattoon *
Thomas McCrea *
John McGuire
Donald McMichael *
Edward Merritt *
Allan Miller
John Morris
George Nevers *
John Newton *
William Nichols
Frederic Niles *
Charles Noll*
Richard Nunley
Richard O’Connor *
George Passano *
John Patten *
Peter Patterson
Stephen Pearsall *
Donald Perkins *
Thomas Ritner *
Robert Robinson
Hilton Rosen
John Runyon *
David Salter
John Sargent
Ronald Scheman
Robert Scheuer
Rex Schirmer *
Emil Schnell
Brandon Schnorf
Arthur Schweich *
Kenneth Sewall
Gilbert Shapiro *
Bruce Sherman
Wade Sherwood
Walton Shim *
Grafton Sieber *
David Siegal
Juraj Slavik *
Russell Smale *
Herbert Solow *
Denny Speidel
Frederick Stephens *
Bernard Sudikoff *
John Thornley
Thomas Trager *
John VanHuyck *
John VanWagoner
William Vitalis
Walter VomLehn *
James Washburn
Edward Weltman
Warren Wentworth
Frederick Whittemore *
Thomas Wilson *
John Wortley *
Michael Zarin
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Russell Cook *
David Cost
George Cull *
John Cunningham *
Richard Davenport
Allen Davis *
Le Baron Dennis
Thomas Dewey *
John Dickason *
Collins Corner
Volume 5 Number 2 March 2012
Robert Henderson *
Ralph E. Heyman
George B. High
David Horlacher *
John Horne *
Sherman Horton
William Hutchison *
Alan Ives *
Douglas Perkins *
David Picker *
Robert Poor *
James Porath *
Benjamin Potter *
Timothy Reed *
Charles Reilly *
Dave Replogle
John Zimmermann *
Widows and Adopted
Lillian Goss
Joan Haigh
Linda Hering
Joan Markey *
Jane Springer *
Joseph Stevens
There’s been a little snow up
north, but for most of us - and
certainly here in Boston - it
has been the balmiest winter
I have ever known. I had the
pleasure of traveling with a
Dartmouth group to Cuba earlier in March and had a most
eye opening and interesting
experience. I was delighted to
find that classmate Tim Reed
and his wife Barbara, and also
Joan Haigh, widow of classmate George Haigh, were part
of the group. Does that qualify as a Cuban mini-reunion? Here is a photo of the four of
us in Revolution Square where Fidel delivers his occasional speeches.
Cuba was a great experience and Tim and I have some stories that we hope to share at some
point. In the meantime, here are a few photos of the automotive scene in Cuba. They are all
out of our undergraduate years I had a most enjoyable lunch this week with classmate Jack
Newton right here in Boston. Jack is currently our class Bartlett Tower Society chair having taken over those responsibilities from Ron Lazar when Ron moved on to head up our
Dartmouth College Fund. Jack is truly one of 1953’s most loyal and ardent workers and just
quietly does his job. He previously headed up our Bartlett Tower activities for over 25 years
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while also serving as Memorial Gift Chair as well
as a perennial Class Agent – a job he continues to
perform. We are fortunate to have him re-volunteer to head Bartlett Tower Society for our class.
In whatever spare time Jack finds, he is also well
known as the collector of a world class assortment
of books on the White Mountains and NH as well
as another collection on worldwide mountaineering and explorations. He has over 4,000 books on the former and over 5,000 books on the
latter as well as 4,000 duplicates. He currently is finding a home for this incredible collection at academic institutions as well as selling some choice pieces to international book collectors. His calling card identifies him as “The Lost Nation Bookman”.
While I am throwing out Kudos, we owe Fred Stephens a huge thank you. We all received a
copy of the well done video of the events at the dedication of The Class of 1953 Commons.
This was Fred’s idea and he recruited funding from several of our class members to make it
happen. Here are the folks that Fred contacted and urged their participation:
Phil Beekman
Tom Bloomer Dick Blum
Al Collins
Jack Crisp
Bob Henderson Bob Malin
Chuck Reilly David Replogle Bob Simpson
Fred Stephens
Fred Whittemore
Thanks to you Fred, and all of you who pitched in to create this wonderful reminder of
a great day for the Class of 1953. Homecoming — October 26–27, 2012:
A little different format this year for homecoming. This year we will play Harvard at a
night game in Hanover. The Friday evening events will be as usual with our gathering
at Zimmerman Lounge prior to and following the bonfire, the traditional parade of the
classes through the streets of Hanover, the speeches from Dartmouth hall and the neat and
tidy bonfire in the center of the green. Our bonfire was hardly that and here is a picture of
our less than tidy bonfire in 1949. Where did we collect the wood?? The exciting news is
that thanks to the aggressive planning of co-mini reunion chairs, Dave and Bonnie Siegal,
we will be having our class meeting in 1953 Commons at 10 AM Saturday morning, and
then a luncheon at 1 PM. A wonderful opportunity for those of you who have not seen
this wonderful new facility. What a delight to be able to use and meet in “our” building.
A special treat for all of us is that Martha Beattie, Dartmouth’s new
VP of Alumni Relations, will be on hand to speak with us during our
luncheon. Plan to be there – you will love what our class has done.
And while you are making your plans, here are the dates of the other
home games for this coming fall. The Siegals are hard at work putting together post-game receptions for each of them and will keep
you advised.
Sept 15 – Butler Sept 20 – Penn
Oct 13 – Sacred Heart Nov 10 – Brown
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Volume 5 Number 2 March 2012
The Donovan Ski Event – Rescheduled:
Once again Dave and Cynthia Donovan are graciously hosting the annual 1953 ski event
at their home in Branford, New Hampshire. As of this writing there are about 24 classmates, spouses and friends planning to attend the event with 6 or 7 skiing and the rest just
enjoying the camaraderie, the cocktails, the dinners and the collective lies. I had plans
to attend to enjoy all but the skiing but a rare New England snow storm on the night of
the event forced a postponement. Dave and Cynthia have rescheduled for March 8th and
hopefully we will get some pictures. I will miss the event as I plan to be in Florida at the
time and will stop by and say hello to the ’53 contingent at Harbor Ridge while there.
The Class of 1953 reaches out to our Widows:
Tom Bloomer and Nancy Johnson (widow of Bill Johnson) have sent a letter out to all 1953
widows urging them to keep us posted on how they would like to interact with the Class.
Widows enjoy the same Class membership and involvement in the Class as did their husbands and we would like to make it as easy, comfortable and inclusive as possible to continue that relationship. We often hear that a widow would like to attend a Class event, but are
unsure who else is going and who she would know. Thanks to Nancy Johnson’s input and
the responses from the survey, this is just one of the issues we will be addressing. We have
heard from about half of our widows and will be in touch once we have heard from more.
A slightly subtle reminder: Your Newsletters, your Dartmouth Alumni Magazines, your
Class activities and your connection with your Class and your College are solely supported by our Class dues. If you are not yet part of the solution, how about sitting down and
writing a check for $100 made out to Dartmouth 1953, to Ledyard National Bank, PO
Box 799, Hanover, NH 03755. We need your help to continue to do what we do for you.
And Now, You the Classmate are the Headline
Since September, this Class has had a continuing series of wonderful events that have highlighted our life as Dartmouth’s Greatest Class ever. The dedication of the Class of 1953
Commons in September, the celebration of Homecoming in October, the gratification for
the inspiration of Donald in November, and the organization of the Dartmouth College
Fund in December, all of these magnificient events have precluded the sharing of the news
of what really makes up the Class of 1953, and that is YOU, all of YOU. So here we go in
“fast and furious” forward to catch up on the news and views of the likes of youse!
Jack Tukey — Last year your’53 Out reporter failed you miserably when he forgot to
note that Jack, twice in his 79th year, shot his age on the golf course. This was duly certified by Gib Warren who attested to that accomplishment and that Jack bought the appropriate round of drinks at the Club, Sanibel I believe, TWICE. Let’s all show up at Jack’s
birthday round this year.
Wally Ashnault — Another “better late than never” report of a note from Tom Bloomer
in mid-2011 that Wally had just been acclaimed by the Penfield, New York, Chamber as
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“Citizen of the Year for 2010” Wally is practicing law in Penfield, a close-by suburb of
Rochester. Kudos to Wally.
Bert Melcher and Dick Fleming — through the “constant chatter” that is ongoing
amongst many members of the class, and to which I am privy to much, it came to our
attention that the fathers of these two great classmates, Bert
and Dick, were both pioneers in the seaplanes of Naval Aviation in the late teens and early ‘’20’s when the name of the
game was not “touch and go” but “splash and dash” Dave
Donovan, one of the splashers in the following generation,
take note. Here are some of the tidbits from a note from Bert
to Dick, and when Dick gets back to the Cape in the spring
[he is “wintering” in Harbour Ridge”], he will peel open his
memento box to send us information on his dad.
“Dick - I had written how my father would have loved the
“High Flight” poem Dave had sent out, and it would seem
that your father would also: our fathers were both WW I
Navy pilots at Pensacola. It was then I learned that your
dad and Dave’s dad
were both the Class of 1919. I have a book titled
“Flying Officers of the USN 1917-1919, and I
found him in the book and he is listed as Naval
Aviator #2191, Herbert Pace Fleming, Melrose
Mass. which would make him senior to my dad.
My Dad was Number 2367, certificate dated April
13, 1919. I sent two photos one of my Dad in front
of his flying boat and another of flying boats lined
up along a beach at the Naval Air Station in Florida
in what is now Miami Beach. Dad said he could
have bought land for $10 an acre but he could not justify that price for land that he did
not need. Oi Vey!
I also have an album of pictures that
Dad took at Pensacola. Further, a small
leather certificate wallet with a card
from the Federation Aeronautique
Internationale - Aero Club of America
with a picture of Dad in the cockpit
looking very cocky and certifying him
as ‘Hydroaeroplane Pilot Number 726”
dated October 15, 1919.
I wish I had more vivid memories, but
I cherish the mementos that I have and
I am proud that my father was patriotic,
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Volume 5 Number 2 March 2012
adventuresome and apparently with good skills. I was going to be in the Navy from my
childhood days and one of the biggest days in my life was when I got the NROTC scholarship. Without it, I would not have gone to Dartmouth. I became a Civil Engineer Corps
officer after Thayer School and stayed in the Reserve SeaBees until I made Captain. While
at Dartmouth I got two tickets to the Army-Navy football game through the Navy staff at
Dartmouth. Dad came east from Colorado and we saw the game; it was a thrilling day in his
life to see Navy win. Cheers, Bert.
And now notes from the script of our Illustrious Treasurer, Dick Fleming
Bert: Many thanks for your kindness in sending the pictures, and for your most interesting
letter and research! You are most thoughtful. Dad earned his Wings at Pensacola a little
more than a month before the War ended. I think that I remember the date as October 8,
1918. It is in his Log Books. That would be consistent with your Father’s Date and Number. I have 2 Log Books, somewhat duplicative; and some pictures of planes. Also I have
2 copies of what was essentially a Class Book for his Class in Pre-Flight School. That was
at MIT. The Students were given the Rating of Chief Quartermaster. Of course, it was also
just a few miles from his home in Melrose, MA. After Pensacola, my Father also spent
some time at NAS Miami, as did your Father. Marc Michener, one of the Naval Aviation
Pioneers and notable in WWII was the CO. He was a Lieutenant Commander, but apparently there were not enough Captains or Commanders who were Qualified Naval Aviators
to be the CO. After my Father was discharged he returned to Dartmouth, where he attended every other year for 5 years and Graduated in 3 years. Perseverance!
Sometime after he Graduated from Dartmouth
he and Carl Shumway,’11, rode Carl’s motorcycle to Reserve Training at Far Rockaway
- No high speed highways: US 1 through the
Cities in MA, RI and CT and through Harlem.
His Log Book is signed by LT. Walter Hinton, the Pilot of the first plane to fly across the
Atlantic (actually they taxied on the water for
part of the journey) - 8 years before Charles
Lindbergh. A connection here is that I know
one of Carl Shumway’s Daughters and Al Collins knows another.
Dick, our fathers must have known each other in Miami and may well have been in the
same squadron because Lt. Commander Marc Michener was well-known to my dad, who
closely followed Michener’s great career in WWII. Michener was on NC-1, one of the
planes that tried the Atlantic but did not make it as did the NC-4 with Lt. Hinton. The picture of my dad in front of his plane, the plane is an HS-1. Our fathers may well have been
at Pensacola at the same time as well.
Bert and Dick, for those of us afflicted with the incurable disease of the love of flying, I
cannot tell you how much we have enjoyed your remembrances of your dads, their time
in Naval Aviation, and those pictures, wow. I look forward to Dick’s picture when he
returns from “wintering.”
After Dartmouth, my path to Naval Aviation was through OCS “the 90 day blunder”
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school, and then on to Pensacola for flight
training. Dud Milliken, John Springer, Tom
Dixon, and I were in close classes and stayed
in touch though they went off to the Marine
Corps Aviation when we were all “winged,”
but stayed in touch. I went off to Carrier Aviation, back to Pensacola as an instructor, and
then back to sea. Last year, the 100th anniversary of Naval Aviation, many of us were invited
to Pensacola for a gala celebration, air show,
opening of the new wing of the museum, Blue Angel reception et al, and I found all seven
types I flew in my 10years of service, 6 active and 4 reserve. Highlight of the weekend,
after the Blues flew, was an Air Force F-15E flyby our stands, 300 feet and on the “verge
of the sound barrier” when directly in front of the stands, he pulled up 90 degrees, burners on, which activated every single car alarm system in the VIP parking lot right behind
our stands!!!!. We laughed all the way to Happy Hour. Here is a picture of “moi” by my
favorite of favorites, the Grumman F9F-6/8 Cougar in which I have over six hundred
hours of flight time with lots of “traps”. Even got them to put the 1953 Class Year on the
Sign. What a joy.
AND HERE IS WHERE
IT ALL BEGAN!!!!!!!
100 Years Ago, January,
in San Francisco,
when Eugene Ely invented
naval aviation.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .
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Volume 5 Number 2 March 2012
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
— John Gillespie Magee, Jr
During the desperate days of the Battle of Britain, hundreds of Americans crossed the
border into Canada to enlist with the Royal Canadian Air Force. Knowingly breaking the
law, but with the tacit approval of the then still officially neutral United States Government, they volunteered to fight the Nazis. John Gillespie Magee, Jr., was one such American. Magee was 18 years old when he entered flight training. Within the year, he was sent
to England and posted to the newly formed No 412 Fighter Squadron, RCAF. He flew the
Super marine Spitfire. Flying fighter sweeps over France and air defense over England
against the German Luftwaffe, he rose to the rank of Pilot Officer. On 3 September 1941,
Magee flew a high altitude (30,000 feet) test flight in a newer model of the Spitfire V.
As he orbited and climbed upward, he was struck with the inspiration of a poem — “To
touch the face of God.” Commonly called High Flight. Ronald Reagan, addressing NASA
employees following the tragic loss of the Challenger 7 crew on STS-51L, used the poem
in a well-remembered line: “We shall never forget them nor the last time we saw them, as
they prepared for their mission and waved good-bye and slipped the surly bonds of Earth
to touch the face of God.”
1953 Class Notes, May/June 2012 for the Alumni Magazine from
Mark Smoller
In a year when most of our classmates have achieved octogenarian status, the energy,
spirit and production of our Class remains high with a large number of us still actively
engaged in productive pursuits. For instance, the Honorable Peter Bridges reports, “In
October (2011) I had an interesting trip to the Republic of Georgia. I was invited to lecture at universities in Kutaisi and Tbilisi, after the Georgians learned that the officer from
the American embassy in Moscow who accompanied John Steinbeck to Georgia in 1963
was still on earth. I also discussed early contacts between Georgia and America, beginning with an American who visited Tbilisi in 1804, when Georgia had just lost its independence to Russia. Today, both government and people are keen on developing contacts
with us. My host had just come back from eight months at the University of California
at Santa Cruz. I also spent two days in the region of Svaneti, which features mountains
higher than the Alps and old towers, not to defend against invaders but because of blood
feuds. The road into Svaneti has been rebuilt and in hopes of attracting more tourists the
government is repairing the old towers and building new guest houses. I want to go back,
and do some hiking in Svaneti. Anybody interested?
With a year and one half to go before our 60th reunion, President Allen Collins has apPage 10
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pointed Harlan Fair chairman of the reunion committee Harlan is hard at work organizing the most exciting 60th reunion yet. Please make sure to save the dates: June 10
through June 13, 2013.
On the other hand, such longevity status brings with it the loss of classmates whom we
hold dear. We never become inured to this situation so it is with great sadness that I acknowledge the following classmates who have left us recently, and offer the sincere
condolences of the Class to their families. They are: Richard L. Core, Walter Rod
Jennings, Karl G. McGhee, Dudley R. Williams, Frank G. Willard, John E. Crisp,
Harvey W.F. Mason, Peter S. Spalding, Clifford H. Rusch, James A. Rose, Gilbert
S. Osborne, Frederick Chase Jr., and Chester F. Caswell, Jr. Additionally we just
learned from John Kennedy that two others have been deceased in preceding years
John Heintzelman 11/09/2008 and Roy Jacobsen 07/17/2007
Other days are very near us, as we sing here soft and low,
We can almost hear the voices of the boys of long ago.
They are scattered now, these brothers, up and down the world they roam
Some have gone to lands far distant, from the dear old college home
Some have crossed the silent river, they are looking down tonight
And the thought of these old brothers, makes our love now burn so bright.
A Tribute to Fred Chase by Dave Godschalk.
Our wonderful classmate Frederick Chase, Jr. Chase died suddenly on January 3, 2012 in
Waukegan, Illinois, where he had been living for the past eight years or so with his dear
friend, Lynne Atherton. Lynne and Fred had dated at the time of our graduation in 1953
and they had reconnected in recent years. Tom and Anna Bradley and I attended Fred’s
memorial service in Lake Forest on January 7. The Church of the Holy Spirit was filled
with parishioners who had come to know and value Fred, especially in his role as the environmental conscience and advocate for the church. In his remarks, the pastor said that
Fred was the “closest thing to a prophet” that the congregation had, due to his untiring
efforts to lead them to sustainability and green practices. This is especially remarkable
since Fred had only been involved with the church during relatively recent times.
Fred and I were closely connected at a number of times over the past half century. We
were both Phi Delts at Dartmouth. Following our military service after Dartmouth we
lived together in Gainesville, Florida, while he was in law school and I was in architecture school. He introduced me to my wife, Lallie, and was best man at our wedding. We
enjoyed sailing with him and spending weekends together at our stilt house in the Gulf
of Mexico. Over the years, we saw each other less frequently after I left Florida, but we
stayed in touch and visited each other in Florida and Vermont. Last year we all got together in Baltimore for a great mini-reunion with a group of Phi Delts : Fred and Lynne,
Lallie and me, Dick Blum and Harriet Warm, Mayo and Julie Johnson, and David Salter
and his friend, Christina Howe. We will miss Fred’s elan, his dedication to sustainability,
and his unwavering friendship.
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Volume 5 Number 2 March 2012
Thanks David, and from your’53 Out reporter who learned more about sustainability and
the preservation of God’s creation from Fred than anyone whom I have encountered, he
will always be a guiding friend whom I only came to know is recent years, an enduring
member of our CEZ group and leader of our years of discussions on Sustainability over
the cyber sphere. Bon Voyage Fred and will see you at the next stop.
John Kennedy and Owen Cote attend the Eddie Jeremiah celebration
John writes, The Athletic Department at Dartmouth decided to have a “celebration weekend” to honor late ice hockey coach Eddie Jeremiah, who was at Dartmouth for the years
1937 through 1967, and invited hockey players who had played for “Jerry” to come back
to Hanover to take part in the celebration. Even though I only played Freshman hockey, I
was invited to attend and I did. There were 40 of us including Jack Riley, Class of 1944,
92 years old and as spry as you could imagine. Jack was a Hockey All-American (as were
several others of the attendees), an Olympian and a member of the Hockey Hall-of-Fame
as was Coach Jeremiah. We were treated to several receptions and brunches at which
Athletic Director Sheehy and current hockey coach Bob Gaudet spoke, and two men’s
hockey games (we beat Brown 6-2 and lost to Yale 5-4). John’s wife was him for all the
events as well. During the second intermission of the Yale game, we were asked to line
up in Class order on the ice at one of the goal lines and were introduced individually by
class and name. Owen Cote was also there and it sent shivers up our spines as the capacity crowd stood and applauded as we were introduced. I was really humbled to be there
with so many real hockey stars.
From Our Writer Extraordinaire, Brock Brower, with a Preamble to
a Most Complimentary Review of the New Publication of His 1971
Best Seller Novel “The Late Great Creature.”
Through the wire weed of this forward, you’ll find one of the better reviews I’ve gotten in
four decades. I enclose same for the glimpse that Donelon gives of my Late Great Career, since turning 80 myself. I’m just now finishing up a short TV-doc-series book I’ve
written on the King James Bible (all that intro we got our freshman year from the future
Dartmouth Bible, remember?), and it should be out this year. You’ll recognize this as my
whistling in the dark to keep out of our class necrology, well-tended as the Siegal s are
keeping same. If I’m sounding wary, it’s because I realize how the blaring of one’s own
blown horn can sound.
But here’s more, yet. I’ve not been contributing to our 1953 funding of Dartmouth
because, like all writers toward the end of their careers, I’m constantly broke. My substitute gift has been my literary files to the Rauner Library, which are already invaluable for
their political coverage of the USA from 1952 until the most recent Romney, whose
father George I followed closely in 1968, until the late Bill Johnson — correctly —
forced him to quit the New Hampshire primary. I know what’s driving Mitt, and more
power to him. I may yet have my say on that just to round matters off.
Of course, I’m counting on other hopes that future calls will come for the odd visit to my Rauner
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files. I suspect they will grow in worth to the College over this next century, since they are one
steep record on well over half of the last century. But we’ll just have to let others wait and see. If
so, my papers will kick in nicely just after Budd Schulberg’s cache, and whatever Morton Kondracke leaves of his take--the two editors of the D who book-end me.
By the way, I totally sympathize with what you’ve written me about our military and
the grave, fatalistic pressure the services are under. And I speak as a former intelligence
member of Special Forces (tho’ admittedly in peace time, from those long years since
1957 until we finally have the tech to meet the doctrine we had worked out, way back
then). Only hindsight can make us proud. Please glean from the above whatever serves
you well, without my maudlin conceits. And great regards. Brock
Thank you Brock and here are parts of the review that is propelling the resurrection of
The Late Great Creature. The review in its entirety is being installed on our class website.
Go to the Homepage at “The Dartmouth College Class of 1953” for instructions to access.
Brock Brower’s The Late Great Creature
A Great American Novel Comes Back to Life After 40 Years
By Charles Donelan
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Books sometimes remind me of numbers — sure they’re great, but there are too many of
them! At The Santa Barbara Independent, the lifecycle of the typical volume submitted for
review begins and ends in the same place: the mailroom. Below, tight rows of mail slots are
crammed with announcements and cultural products; above, along a wide shelf at eye level,
the rejected books and CDs rest in forlorn piles, having been brought back for one last look
before they make their way into the permanent oblivion of donation or recycling. Sometimes, although not often — every few years sounds about right — a book, a CD, or a DVD
rises up out of the detritus of our in-house remainder bin and, at the last possible moment,
reasserts its claim on our editorial attention. In late November, deep in a post-Thanksgiving rut of early sunsets and late work hours, one such volume poked its head up out of the
pile and called to me. There, at the bottom of the front cover of a rather bizarre pulp-fiction–looking paperback, was the following testimonial from James Ellroy, one of my favorite contemporary authors. “Brock Brower,” Ellroy wrote, “created a brilliantly observed and
wholly synchronous work of art 40 years ago; now it is back to be savored and marveled
at anew.” The Late Great Creature, first published in 1971 and now reissued in paperback
by Overlook/Duckworth, purported to describe the making of a Roger Corman–style B
movie, and to deliver a chilling, verbally pyrotechnic portrait of a fictional movie actor, the
hugely talented and desperately weird horror star Simon Moro. Checking the back cover, I
learned that Joan Didion liked it. So did Dan Wakefield, the New York Times, and Playboy.
And there, in the last full sentence of the whole thing, was the clincher — “Brower lives in
Carpinteria, California.” This local angle on an oddball ’70s novel about horror movies
is what put The Late Great Creature in my briefcase, and what began my journey into
the multiple fascinating worlds of Brock Brower: novelist, journalist, raconteur, and
maybe the greatest rediscovered American novelist of the new century.
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Volume 5 Number 2 March 2012
Hollywood, Horror Movies, and the Lost Art of Long-Form Journalism
The author of The Late Great Creature turned out to be a man with impeccable credentials. A Dartmouth grad, Brower was born into New York media royalty. His father,
Charles H. Brower, became president of the legendary advertising company BBDO in
1957 and was known at the height of the Mad Men era as “Madison Avenue’s favorite
phrasemaker.” But it was in journalism that Charlie Brower’s son Brock distinguished
himself. Brower was one of the most sought-after long-form profile specialists in the
golden age of the New Journalism (up there with Tom Wolfe, Didion, and John Gregory
Dunne) and employed by the top magazines in America to interview presidents, celebrities, and other top newsmakers. This was a time when such writers were not only routinely accorded ample space — 8,000 words was a typical minimum length for a feature
— they were also actually paid well for it. Today’s print journalists beset by the erosion
of their audience and the acceleration of a Web-driven news cycle can only wistfully
imagine such halcyon days. In addition, Brower had gone on to become an innovative
writer and producer for television at a time when that medium was at its peak, helping to
create both the long-running newsmagazine 20/20 for ABC, and the classic 1980s educational science series 3-2-1 Contact for PBS.
But his book The Late Great Creature was clearly a very different affair. Yes, the narrator
of the first section, Warner Williams, is a journalist, and in many ways a dead ringer for
his creator, but what one encounters in the novel is not so much the high-flying world of
a prominent member of the national media as it is a dark and twisted update of the lunatic
universe of Edgar Allan Poe. Brower spent nearly a month on the set of Roger Corman’s
film version of Poe’s poem “The Raven,” a film that starred Vincent Price, Peter Lorre, and
Boris Karloff and featured a then-unknown actor named Jack Nicholson. He also populated
his fictionalization of that experience with recognizable figures, from literary agent Candida
Donadio to Esquire editor Harold Hayes and presidential candidate Richard Nixon.
Yoked to a sharp mind, powered by wide reading, and saturated with the acid-tinged psychedelia of the late ’60s, the prose of The Late Great Creature is unique. More knowingly
“inside” than Thomas Pynchon, hipper even than Wolfe, and as scandalously obscene in
places as the raunchiest Philip Roth, The Late Great Creature pulled me in like a sideshow barker and held me with the bony hand of a latter-day ancient mariner. Of all the
great novels about the dark side of Hollywood — from Nathanael West’s apocalyptic The
Day of the Locust and Budd Schulberg’s influential What Makes Sammy Run? to such
distinguished and more recent contributions as Robert Stone’s Children of Light, Bret
Easton Ellis’s Less Than Zero, Charlie Smith’s Chimney Rock, and Bruce Wagner’s I’m
Losing You trilogy — The Late Great Creature is perhaps the best written, unquestionably the most literary, and often the downright creepiest. Brower has a gift for calibrating
the proportions of horror, humor, historic detail, and pop surrealism in a way that makes
this unlikely potion work. The novel’s dazzling verbal surface bursts with shocking moments of significant action. As the hero — if you could call him that — Simon Moro
blends cynicism, ambition, and sheer perversity in an unforgettable way. When I asked
Overlook Press publisher Peter Mayer to explain how it was that he discovered the book
and what made him decide to rerelease it, he too expressed a kind of awe in the face of
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this indelible main character, writing that, “It’s a book that once read, has never been
forgotten by those who’ve picked it up. Brower’s character, the aging star Simon Moro,
is a tour de force, with his aspirations and his failures.” Mayer went on to say that it was
his own original reading of the book back when it came out in 1971 that was behind his
decision to publish it today, coupled with his belief that “every book is new to someone
who hasn’t read it. … [The Late Great Creature is] a great read for a wide public because
there’s so much movie lore embedded in the story. It tugs at the heart whilst we marvel as
readers. It deserves to be read, and to be rediscovered in America.”
The Creature’s Creator at Home
When I visited Brower in Carpinteria, he turned out to be a tall, handsome man with a
full head of white hair who had just celebrated his 80th birthday. Brower recollected the
fanfare that accompanied the original publication of his novel with a mixture of warmth
and humor. “The National Book Award nomination was the work of [literary critic] Leslie
Fiedler; he had the same fascination with freaks that I did,” he told me. “At the time, the
so-called industrial celebrity complex was already well underway. I came off my assignment to cover the making of Corman’s Raven convinced that I could write up the horror
movie genre as the key to this whole cultural phenomenon of unbridled narcissism that I
had been witnessing as a journalist in Hollywood and in Washington.” As for the thesis of
The Late Great Creature, Brower put it this way: “In our society, it doesn’t make any difference if you are a monster, as long as you’re an important monster.”
“I’m like a lot of writers who came of age in
the 1950s,” he said. “While we were all excited by the opportunities that came our way out
of the New Journalism, we still harbored this
idea that the one way to legitimize oneself as a
writer was to take the energy and techniques of
journalism and use them to write a great novel.
That’s what I tried to do with The Late Great
Creature — justify journalism by transforming
it into art.”
Toward the end of a delightful conversation
full of mutual recognitions and spirited cultural analysis, Brower led me to a shelf in his
study stocked with copies of a slim brown hardcover bearing the distinguished imprint
of Boston publisher David R. Godine. This was Blue Dog, Green River, the novel that
Brower published in 2005 at the age of 74. He inscribed it to me carefully, noting my
name, the date, and the fact that it was given to a “welcome visitor, after my 80th.” I took
it home and placed it alongside the other things in my stash of books I really want to read.
I finished Blue Dog, Green River last night. It’s totally different from The Late Great
Creature. The protagonist is a heroic mutt, and the story is one of courage and redemption amid the whitewater rapids and Native American spirits of the great rivers of the
American West. A deep reading of our collective dependence on water in this part of the
world, it’s also a great adventure story and as thrilling to read as any popular suspense
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Volume 5 Number 2 March 2012
novel. In the ninth decade of a long life dedicated to writing, and in the shadow of an era
that seems to promise the end of print’s long reign over the hearts and minds of thoughtful people, Brower, and the novels he has written, demonstrate that the lives of books,
like those of the people who write them, are as unpredictable and potentially grand as any
monster or spirit we can imagine.
Words from President Jim Wrights’ comments at the
Celebration of Donald’s Life
In 2010 Don published a book, “Thinking about Thoughts: Thoughts about Thinking.” It
is a delightful collection of aphorisms, wise advice, and observations about the irony and
humor of life. He noted in the introduction that since he had not done an English thesis
at Dartmouth, this would substitute for that and he empowered the readers with “You
are my final grader. I hope you like it.” We did, and the final thesis was followed a year
later by another final thesis. He ended this publication with what he called his “personal
credo”: “Ministrare Est Ministrari.” “To Serve is to be Served.” It suggests his strong
commitment to making a difference as its own reward. He surely made a difference and
he gave every indication throughout that he enjoyed it immensely. In his own personal
sketch in the Class of 1953 50th Reunion Book, Don wrote,
“Perhaps, before my time comes (or even after) someone, somewhere, by the grace of
almighty God, will say, ‘In a very small way and for a brief caring moment, he really was
‘the Man of La Mancha.” That is my quest. Hopefully, even at this late date, it is still a
possible dream.”
President Jim then said “I here do affirm that he was the Man of La Mancha. This man
fulfilled his quest. Don Goss was a man who reached, when his arms were weary, for
the unreachable star. It was an unselfish dream, a “fight for the right, without question
or pause.” He dreamed for a better world and was committed to do all he could to enable this. Today we can all confidently know that, as the lyrics promise, his heart will lie
peaceful and calm now, Dartmouth and the world is better due to his quest. We honor and
we thank a good man.
Bernie and Joanie Sudikoff sent the following “cartoon poem” which captures
our “growing up time” magnificently. They received it from an Israeli friend
who just loves America, and they want all of you to enjoy. See you next Letter,
Dave, El Scribo.
Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot,
Before the days of Dylan, or the dawn of Camelot.
There lived a race of innocents,
and they were you and me,
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For Ike was in the White House
in that land where we were born,
Where navels were for oranges,
and Peyton Place was porn.
We learned to gut a muffler,
we washed our hair at dawn,
We spread our crinolines
to dry in circles on the lawn...
We longed for love and romance, and waited for our Prince,
And Eddie Fisher married Liz, and no one’s seen him since.
We danced to ‘Little Darlin,’
and sang to ‘Stagger Lee’
And cried for Buddy Holly
in the Land That Made Me, Me.
Only girls wore earrings then, and 3 was one too many,
And only boys wore flat-top cuts, except for Jean McKinney.
And only in our wildest dreams
did we expect to see
A boy named George with Lipstick,
in the Land That Made Me, Me.
We fell for Frankie Avalon,
Annette was oh, so nice,
And when they made a movie,
they never made it twice.
We didn’t have a Star Trek Five,
or Psycho Two and Three,
Or Rocky-Rambo Twenty
in the Land That Made Me, Me.
Miss Kitty had a heart of gold,
and Chester had a limp,
And Reagan was a Democrat
whose co-star was a chimp.
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Volume 5 Number 2 March 2012
We had a Mr. Wizard, but not a Mr.T,
And Oprah couldn’t talk yet, in the Land That Made Me, Me.
We had our share of heroes,
we never thought they’d go,
At least not Bobby Darin,
or Marilyn Monroe.
For youth was still eternal, and life was yet to be,
And Elvis was forever in the Land That Made Me, Me.
We’d never seen the rock band
that was Grateful to be Dead,
And Airplanes weren’t named Jefferson,
and Zeppelins were not Led.
And Beatles lived in gardens then,
and Monkees lived in trees,
Madonna was Mary
in the Land That Made Me, Me.
We’d never heard of microwaves,
or telephones in cars,
And babies might be bottle-fed,
but they were not grown in jars.
And pumping iron got wrinkles out,
and ‘gay’ meant fancy-free,
And dorms were never co-ed
in the Land That Made Me, Me.
We hadn’t seen enough of jets
to talk about the lag,
And microchips were what were left
at the bottom of the bag.
And hardware was a box of nails,
and bytes came from a flea,
And rocket ships were fiction
in the Land That Made Me, Me.
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Buicks came with portholes,
and side shows came with freaks,
And bathing suits came big enough
to cover both your cheeks.
And Coke came just in bottles,
and skirts below the knee,
And Castro came to power
near the Land That Made Me, Me.
We had no Crest with fluoride,
we had no Hill Street Blues,
We had no patterned pantyhose
or Lipton herbal tea
Or prime-time ads for those dysfunctions
in the Land That Made Me, Me.
There were no golden arches,
no Perrier to chill,
And fish were not called Wanda,
and cats were not called Bill.
And middle-aged was 35 and old was fifty-three,
And ancient were our parents in the Land That Made Me, Me.
But all things have a season,
or so we’ve heard them say,
And now instead of Maybelline
we swear by Retin-A.
They send us invitations to join AARP,
We’ve come a long way, baby,
from the Land That Made Me, Me.
So now we face a brave new world
in slightly larger jeans,
And wonder why they’re using
smaller print in magazines..
And we tell our children’s children
of the way it used to be,
Long ago and far away in the Land That Made Me, Me.
If you didn’t grow up in the fifties, you missed the greatest time in history.
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1949
“A Touch of ’53
Homespun Class”
2011
“A Torch of Current
Out-Sourced Gas”