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Class of 1915 . Yale College
Thirty-Fifth Year Record
ALLEN COUNTY PUBLIC LIBRARY
3 1833 06726 4413
GC 974.602 N41TCG
HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF 1915 YALE COLLEGE
HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF 1915
YALE COLLEGE
Volume III . Thirty-Fifth Year Record
LUX ET VERITAS
Edited by Maurice R. Davie · Norman V. Donaldson Philip H. English · Elton S. Wayland With the Assistance of the Class Secretaries Bureau NEW HAVEN
1952
Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019
https://archive.org/details/historyofclassof00unse_0
CONTENTS
Foreword 7
To the Class of 1915, by Clarence W. Mendell
9
Class Poem
11
Ivy Ode
14
Class Reunions
17
Biographies
31
In Memoriam
252
IN MEMORIAM
CLASS OF 1915, YALE COLLEGE
THOMAS HILARY CORNELL died in the Bryn Mawr (Pa.) Hospital on July 18, 1957. He is survived by his wife, Truth Binns Cornell, who may be addressed at 349 Highland Lane, Haverford, Pa., two sons, Edward H. B., '45, and Thomas H. M., '54, a daughter, Mrs. Oskar H. Pedersen, and several grandchildren.
For the Class, ELTON S. WAYLAND, Secretary.
Waterbury Savings Bank,
Waterbury 20, Conn.
August 8, 1957.
FOREWORD
As the years glide by we tend to pay too little attention to the affairs of many men who were once our close associates. This book is published with the purpose of strengthening those bonds of esteem and under- standing, which made our years at Yale such an important period in our lives.
Your committee has worked diligently to make this volume com- plete. Where biographies are omitted, repeated requests for information have remained unanswered. To Miss Marion Phillips of the Yale Secre- tary's Office we express our deep obligation. Her willing assistance and valuable experience have guided our progress, and have overcome many obstacles. To our loyal friend, Professor Clarence W. Mendell, we extend our sincere appreciation for his letter of greetings to this once unruly Class.
The death of John Crosby Brown was a heavy blow to our Class. John, with Elton Wayland, accomplished important preliminary work to make this book possible. We, who were later elected to the com- mittee, have merely carried their plans to completion.
One member of our Class-Carroll Gowen Riggs-lost his life in World War II. Riggs, who joined the Regular Army after serving in the first World War, was made colonel in June, 1942. He was killed on December 18, 1942, when his plane, flying in bad weather, crashed into a mountain side in Australia. The War Department has named a permanent battery on the island of Oahu in Hawaii the Carroll G. Riggs Battery.
When you next return to New Haven, remember that your Class is permanently affiliated with Trumbull College. There you will be as- sured of a welcome and every possible courtesy.
Our special thanks go to the writers of many friendly letters offering suggestions and encouragement to this committee.
Yours cordially, PHILIP H. ENGLISH
Class Book Committee
Philip H. English, Chairman
*John Crosby Brown Maurice R. Davie Norman V. Donaldson
Elton S. Wayland
* deceased
7
To the Class of 1915:
YOUR distinguished Class Poet, the brilliant author of your Ivy Ode, and the scintillating historian of your Yale years, all of them, for the moment at least, mystics with a vision, held before you on a June day in 1915 the shimmer of a song, the sweet delusion of a dream, the romance that never was but always to be caught. And each of their several appeals, like Roland's brave blast, was shot through with a note of anguished fear. Each sensed with the poet's intuition, the threat in the air, the premonition of the storm.
We still lived on that June day in the confident world of the past. Our country, like our college, still breathed the boastful courage of a boy only beginning to feel his strength. Yours was the last class with whom I read Petronius and Euripides and Horace with the sense of permanence and security that made possible for us a leisurely sym- pathy with them, ignoring the storms and wreckage of the centuries and the continent that lay between. How soon the illusion was to be shattered, only your mystics guessed.
You have passed since then through two world wars and intervals of armed truce confused by noble experiments and redeeming catas- trophies. The country and the college are so changed in outward ap- pearance as to be unrecognizable and the bland confidence of the century's first decades seems now fantastically naive. Before you were fairly weaned from the breast of Mother Yale, you witnessed the end of an era.
But there is such a thing as the promise of the sunset. And I believe that you of 1915 have gallantly cherished that prophetic gleam.
Whether we are facing a brave new world or a new revolution you are in there serving your college, your country, and the world as each calls on you. As the last leaf upon the tree of that faculty which had such high hopes of you in 1915, hopes that you have not betrayed, my wish for you today is that you may either live to see some realization of the song, the dream, the romance, or if that be not granted, that you may go down fighting, assured that you have helped preserve them as a vision for our sons.
The promise of the sunset is the sanction of our faith in a new dawn which I for one believe is close upon us. And Yale, as of old, is ready for it with all the youthful vigor which has never yet failed her. We have a staunch young president, intelligent and fearless, an
9
idealist filled with practical energy, a worthy herald of the new day. We have (and here I speak as an emeritus, a voice from the past) the best faculty that Yale has ever had. We have a grand body of under- graduates, sound Yale men whatever the calamity mongers may tell you. You have no cause to blush for your college or to tremble for her future. The going may be hard, but that has never disheartened Yale in the past. Today it only strengthens her power and her will to hold her leadership in the new day that is upon us, the day of true freedom in a truly free world.
CLARENCE W. MENDELL
10
CLASS POEM As delivered on Class Day by Archibald MacLeish.
I
A year or two, and grey Euripides, And Horace and a Lydia or so, And Euclid and the brush of Angelo; Darwin on man, Vergilius on bees, The nose and dialogues of Socrates, Don Quixote, Hudibras and Trinculo, How worlds are spawned and how religions grow, All shall be shard of broken memories.
And there shall linger other, magic things- The fog that creeps in wanly from the sea, The rotten harbor smell, the mystery Of moonlit elms, the flash of pigeon wings, The sunny Green, the old-world peace that clings About the college yard where endlessly The dead go up and down. These things shall be Enchantment of our hearts' rememberings.
And these are more than memories of youth Which earth's four winds or pain shall blow away, These are youth's symbols of eternal truth, Symbols of dream and imagery and flame, Symbols of those same verities that play Bright through the crumbling gold of a great name.
II
The people of the earth go down, Each with his wealth of dream, To barter in the market town A star for a torch's gleam; To barter hope for certitude, And mysteries of love For passion's little interlude; And joy for the laugh thereof.
They sell their treasuries of dreams For dream's realities, Their wealth of fairy quinqueremes For ships of salter seas,
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Their gods for shapes of tortured stone, Their faith for shrines that fall, The unknown for the touched and known, Life at the living's call.
They barter songs for the throat that sings, Frail dawns for drowsing days, Eternal moods for brittle Things, Thrush notes for roundelays, The flame of thorn and eglantine For fallow labored lands, Tall lilies touched of Proserpine For lilies of fair hands.
They buy and pass no more that way, Their eyes forget the star, Forget the mysteries of May, Forget the dim and far; They build them tower and high wall To bolt against the Spring,
To shutter out the mavis' call, And heart's-remembering.
III
But Time, a taper guttering, Drops in a slow decay. And Youth, a white moth fluttering, Blows with the wind away. And walls and towers made of hands, And faith, and roundelay, And laughter, and red fallow lands, Pass like the withered spray.
And certitude grows rank with ease, And idols turn to mold, And passion's cup holds bitter lees, And pale, soft hands grow cold; All shimmering reality, The world that shines and seems, The earth, the mountains and the sea, Are shadows of old dreams.
IV
Yet when the splendor of the earth Is fallen into dust,
12
When plow and sword and fame and worth Are rotted with black rust, The Dream, still deathless, still unborn, Blows in the hearts of men, The star, the mystery, the morn, Bloom agelessly again.
Older than Time, with ages shod, The matins of a thrush;
Deeper than reverence of God, The Summer evening's hush. Than trampling death is grief more strong, Love than its avatars,
And echo of an echoed song Shall shake the eternal stars.
13
IVY ODE As delivered on Class Day by DuBose Murphy.
Nos laborantes socios amicos Atque ludentes iuvenes perannos Alma duxisti per iniqua mater Semper ad astra.
Cursus est nobis hodie peractus; Iam profecturi tibi consecramus,
Mater, hanc vitem teneram virentem, Atque precamer:
Floreat semper speciosa pulchra, Nosque dispersos aliis in oris Implicans ramis teneat fideles Mollibus in te,
Ut tuo ductu bene rem gerentes Gloriam nostram tibi conferamus; Simus et nos unanimes amici Omnibus annis.
TRANSLATION By John Carlisle Peet.
Mother most gracious, who has led Our footsteps in these passing years, Whose smiles unfailing cheer have shed Our pleasures round, whose tender fears Have urged our labors day by day; Mother, thy strength, towards endless truth, Hath turned this journey of our youth Where stars immortal light the way.
Now, at thy threshold here to-day, We pause one lingering moment more, The distance waits us, who shall say The road that Life spreads out before? Now set we forth, yet, ere we know The ways that lie beyond thy gate, This tender vine we consecrate, And bow in reverence as we go.
14
Be this our prayer, that it may grow Upward in beauty, wide and high, In all its clinging branches show Thy bonds that bind eternally; O mother, may its tendrils be Forever round our hearts, to hold Our love secure, though seas have rolled Between us, parting each from thee!
And may our later labors prove Full laden with all honors meet, That we may testify our love In laying glories at thy feet: Companions true, in smiles, in tears, Wher'er we go by sea or land. Still may we firm in friendship stand To meet the challenge of the years.
15
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CLASS REUNIONS Reprinted from Yale Alumni Magazine
FIFTEENTH-JUNE, 1930
THE one hundred and three members of the Class who returned for their Quindecennial were in absolute agreement on one point (strange paradox for the Class of 1915), namely, that it was by far the best reunion we have ever had. The lines of social cleavage, which in under- graduate days tended somewhat to divide the Class, seem now to have rusted away, so that the exchange of ideas-good, bad, or indifferent- flowed freely from every angle and in every direction, with a pulsing throb which beat far into the night. To aid and abet this pulsation the committee had provided a variety of non-blinding lubricants which were served by the smiling John Huggins in return for neat little tickets inscribed with the Class numerals. The temperate manner in which these tickets were used-except by the members of other visiting classes-justified Bud Truesdale's confidence that, for the most part, we know how to take care of ourselves. The confidence of Bud in the Class was reciprocated by our confidence and gratitude towards him for the quiet, imperturbed, and effective manner in which he directed the course of events, even to the selection of Norm Thompson as chairman of the next Reunion Committee.
Norm was one of the first to reach headquarters Saturday noon, hardly recognizable behind the gold-rimmed spectacles and his two hundred and forty pound silhouette. But the same Norman wit was there and left no doubt that fifteen years ago the Class voted cor- rectly, "once any hoo." Other early arrivals were Bill Jordan, Doc Randolph, Bud Truesdale, Dick Wheeler, and Dick English. Through Saturday afternoon others drifted in, signed the book, were given a room at headquarters or, more fortunately, in Lawrance Hall, and then relaxed. Tommy Kent, all the way from California, delivered himself of his views in pungent metaphor and with no uncertain emphasis, much to the delight of every one within earshot.
Saturday evening some went to the Dramat show, Galsworthy's "The Roof," but most of the Class stayed to welcome Doug Moore. Sunday morning found many new names on the book, and since it was a beautiful day, golf and tennis were in order, though some preferred to remain quietly at headquarters and watch John Huggins go through his calisthenics. In the afternoon Len Outhwaite, who had sailed up on his famous schooner yacht, "Kinkajou," with Jack Ely signed on
17
as mess boy, took a large group for a cruise on the Sound. After a swim and the clink of tall glasses, practically every one, including Dick Breed who nearly drowned trying to be a porpoise, felt almost perfect.
By five o'clock various groups started arriving at Dick English's summer cottage on Johnson's Point, where Dick had invited the Class. It was a grand party-a delicious supper on the lawn, with over sixty members already present. Certainly it was a fine spirit of hospitality which prompted Dick and Mrs. English to start the reunion on such a high note. Just as the last of the supper was disappearing there was a burst of claxon horns and up rolled the first Class costumes draped on the forms of Howard Beedy, John Hanes, Joe Brown, Tommy Tompkins, and Johnny Castles. Those who had doubted whether they would dare expose their advanced waistlines in the costumes which Bud had provided were quickly relieved by one look at Howard. No one could make a more startling showing than he did, but he didn't care. In fact, he liked it. Happy Hatch slyly suggested that all future costume measurements could be computed from this year's figures-by taking two inches off the chest, adding four to the waist, and eight to the seat. The committee took note. It was late before all was quiet on the western front, and he who would know the events of that first night must get the story from each and every man. We break no confidences in public print.
Monday morning, bright, but not so early, there was a general movement towards Pine Orchard. Charlie Wiman and Bud Wiser, both of whom had their yachts in the harbor, collected crews which rather overmanned the boats and sailed down. Others went in the Class bus or in the high-powered anti-Wall Street cars which were in constant evidence. The day at Pine Orchard needs no chronicle. Marty Shedden and Tish Paris went swimming without even changing their clothes, and Tish lost most of his money in the process; others played so-called golf and lost all of their money. It is said there was a baseball game with 1910, but John Reilly denied the report. Tommy Cornell and Ken Hull spoke to every one in the Class, but mumbled their words. Ham Hamblin had a good time.
And so the day wore on. The Class dinner was held in the same place to avoid unnecessary transportation-an excellent idea, so every one agreed. After dinner we enjoyed some excellent motion pictures of earlier reunions taken by John Hanes and a most interesting section of film showing part of Len Outhwaite's trip in the "Kinkajou." Again the evening settled down, and no man can tell what happened.
Tuesday morning came the Class picture and the committee steam-
18
roller. Norm Thompson was elected chairman for the next reunion with only one dissenting vote-his own. He didn't have a chance. Jack Ely nobly accepted election to act as Class Secretary for another term, and it was decided to collect dues of $15 a year. If these dues are collected, the next reunion should be free for every one who can get back.
The march to the Field, supported by a street car, was a success. On the Field, the Class made a fine showing. We were sadly limited in numbers, 1910 having many more back, but we marched with a splendid rhythm, inspired by Charlie Wiman, who led every band as it came past, thus making the longest hit of the afternoon. The rain which started as the game began, grew as the day wore on and foretold the end of reunion. But after the exciting Yale victory there was a final hilarious dinner at headquarters, when Bud presented Fred Meyer, of Cápiz, Philippine Islands, with the long-distance prize, a beautiful etching of the Harkness Tower by Louis Orr, and some one happily got Doug Moore started at the piano.
Late that night good-byes were said, and by Wednesday noon most of the Class had departed. It was a great gathering and a fine exper- ience. That our next reunion will be as successful is a foredrawn con- clusion, with Norm Thompson sitting at the wheel. The following members of the Class signed the register: Acheson, Alker, Arvidson, Baker, Beckert, Beedy, Bradley, Brantly, Breed, Brice, Brophy, H. H. Brown, J. C. Brown, J. R. Brown, Butler, Carter, Castles, E. W. Clarke, Coe, Coley, Conkling, Cornell, Crandall, Crocker, Dauch, Davenport, Davie, Deming, Denègre, Donaldson, Donnelly, Ely, Eng- lish, Gilman, Gross, Hamblin, Hanes, Hatch, Hazard, Herman, Hull, Hyatt, Johnston, Jordan, Jung, Kent, Klein, Knapp, Leete, Loomis, Macdonald, McGraw, McKee, Mali, Mallory, Martz, Mayo, Mettler, Meyer, Mills, Moore, A. Morse, H. T. Morse, Newberry, Norton, Osbourn, Outhwaite, Paris, Peet, Podoloff, Pumpelly, Rago, Randolph, Reilly, Rivers, Robb, Rodie, Royce, Sawyer, Seabury, Shedden, Sher- man, Shuman, Slocum, E. Smith, R. S. Smith, T. Smith, Stackpole, T. P. Swift, W. E. Swift, Thompson, Tompkins, Truesdale, Walker, Wallace, Weiss, Wheeler, Wilkinson, Wiman, Winston, Wiser, Woodman.
TWENTIETH-JUNE, 1935
FROM far and near the Class of 1915 began to assemble on Saturday afternoon, June 15, at our Class headquarters, the Beta Theta Pi
19
house, 206 York Street. Henry Wilkinson from Bermuda, Joe Brown from Arkansas, Doc Knapp from Texas, and Will Crocker from California were representative of those who traveled long distances to attend.
Soon we were moving into our living quarters in Davenport College, than which no more satisfying surroundings could well be imagined. Perfect Commencement weather marked all Saturday and Sunday and gave us an opportunity most welcome to many, to saunter among the quads and pleasances of the new Colleges and become acquainted with a Yale utterly different and infinitely more beautiful in outward aspect than the Yale which we had known as undergraduates.
Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday each brought new arrivals, and be- fore the reunion was over no less than 88 returning members of the Class had registered at headquarters. Those who were unable to come were not only greatly missed by their classmates, but themselves missed three days packed with interest and enjoyment.
By Sunday noon most of the arrivals had donned their locomotive engineer costumes, consisting of overalls, a blue shirt, an engineer's cap, and a red handkerchief, all of which was unanimously voted to be the best and most comfortable reunion costume we had ever had. Each classmate gallantly resolved instantly to recognize and call by the right first name each one of his fellow engineers.
However, a very few pardonable errors were made. Cy Wallace, for example, on casting his eye on the slender and stately form of Tom Cornell, rushed over with a beaming smile of welcome, to say, "Hello, Dean, old boy, it is perfectly grand to see you." Ed Burtt, on seeing Hick Slocum, is said to have remarked, "That man looks very familiar; I am certain I have seen him somewhere. I am just wondering where it could have been." And so it went.
But gradually old memories revived and by the time the Class started off for Len Outhwaite's and Dick English's party, the ice was pretty well broken.
On Sunday afternoon, by bus and motor, we foregathered at John- son's Point, where Dick English and Len Outhwaite acted as hosts to the Class for an afternoon of swimming and golfing followed by an outdoor supper. Thus far, the reunion had been comparatively quiet in nature, but from this point it turned distinctly "wet." Irked by some malfeasance of his erstwhile roommate, Tommy Cornell, Arch MacLeish espied the Outhwaite garden hose innocently coiled like a sleeping rattlesnake under the shade of an elm. It was the work of but a moment for Arch to get his deadly machine into full operation and to
20
direct its nozzle at the admirable target afforded by Tommy's rear. This would have been well enough had the flood ceased at that point, but the agile Cornell, bellowing with rage, flung himself upon MacLeish, forcing the nozzle of the hose down his throat. Meanwhile, the hose kept going, much to the consternation of several tables of diners directly in range who fled in confusion all over Lenny's stately lawn.
This was only the first of a similar series of floods. About 3:00 A.M. the following morning Joe Brown, pride of Arkansas, discovered flames bursting forth from under his engineer's cap and feeding upon the luxuriant hair beneath. What incendiary had perpetrated the foul act of placing lighted cigarette stubs in his cap was never discovered. Pitchers of ice water were immediately poured over Joe from top to toe, however, and thus Arkansas retained its leading citizen.
Following our Class dinner, a representative of another Class paid a visit to our quarters and, casting his eye on our distinguished speaker of the evening, asked in a loud tone, "Who is that tall guy with the little moustache?" "That is the former Undersecretary of the Treasury," the response was made in awed tones. "Oh, he is, is he?" said the visitor. "Well, believe me, I have plenty to tell that guy." In a trice he was engaged in earnest converse with Dean and Johnny Hanes, and, allud- ing to them as Sonny Boy Ache and Monkey Hanes, proceeded to ex- plain exactly how the country should be run. The verbal hose played over our two friends copiously and long, but due no doubt to their iron constitutions, they suffered no permanent ill effects.
To go back for a moment to the party at Johnson's Point, it broke up around 8:30 just as a marvelous red and orange shade Chinese lantern moon started to rise over the waters of the bay. It was a grand affair and warm appreciation was voiced to Dick and Len for making it possible.
All Monday, which again was a glorious day, although a bit on the warm side, was spent down by the shore at Pine Orchard, where swim- ming, golf, tennis, and a baseball game featured the occasion. The baseball game was played in the morning and found 1915 pitted against the Class of 1910 in a grueling contest which ultimately re- sulted in a victory for '10 by the score of 12 to 10. The original 1915 infield consisted of Reilly, pitcher; Stackpole, catcher; Everett Smith, 1st base; Ed Burtt, 2d base; Ray Gilman, shortstop; and Austin Smith, 3d base. Airtight work by these men backed up a sterling pitching exhibition by Reilly, who held the mighty maulers of 1910 to 20 hits, or one for each year since our graduation. This airtight pitching, how-
21
ever, was made possible in no small measure by the brilliant defense of the outfield, consisting of Caesar McGraw, Bill Bright, Sam Mills, Walker Swift, Val Bartlett, Ed Clarke, Ship Thomas, Harv Brown, and Pop Sawyer. Between them these men covered the ground in pheno- menal fashion and cut off many an opposing hit and run. On all sides the comment was heard, "What legs those old fellows have!"
The 1915 golfing contingent played havoc with the sod, if not with the course record. A fascinating new golf betting system, entitled "Bingle, Bangle, Bungle," was introduced by Pier Hazard (for full details apply to T. Pierrepont Hazard, Peace Dale, R.I.). The attitude of the players in general, however, was probably best illustrated by Jerry Jerome, who, being engaged in a seven-some with a nice bunch of guys, remarked, as they climbed to the 12th tee, "Gentle- men, I now suggest that all of us assume a recumbent position for one half hour before the next drive." Be that as it may, the well-stocked bar, wisely placed in the shadiest spot on the grounds, provided re- freshment for one and all and proved an effective influence against overexertion on any one's part. The weather held beautifully all day long, and it was not until we were assembled for the Class dinner that a spatter of rain on the roof betokened a change. Then it was too late to make any difference to any of us.
The food at this banquet, like all the rest of the food provided by our committee at headquarters, was of remarkable excellence. The feature was roast duck, and this only served to illustrate the remarkable resourcefulness and ingenuity under pressure of our Class committee. It seems that up to Sunday morning Messrs. Thompson and Donaldson had slightly underestimated the number of returning grads and, ac- cordingly, had failed to provide sufficient duck for the evening meal. They were two short. Nothing daunted, they repaired early to the Yale golf course, each armed with a bag full of balls and proceeded to aim their drives at the swans floating serenely in the waters of the "Swan Hole." Norm soon bagged a swan, and the two triumphantly returned to headquarters with sufficient roast on hand for all comers. There are some who would consider that to dispatch a swimming swan with a golf ball at a range of seventy yards indicates marksmanship of remark- able accuracy. No one who has frequently played the Yale course, however, with either Donaldson or Thompson, would notice anything unusual or out of the ordinary in that accomplishment.
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