Class Note 1980
Issue
May-June 2020
Ten:The math is easy for alums in classes that are multiples of 10. “How long since you graduated?” is a no-brainer for us ’80s. And when we ran around the bonfire at Homecoming, we didn’t bear the weight of wearing prime numbers on our class shirts like last spring’s graduating class. Ten is a strong and elegant number. As a kid growing up in New York, I admired Walt Frazier, the strong and elegant future Hall of Fame guard for the New York Knicks. “Clyde” wore No. 10 on his uniform and was known for his style and fashion sense. But Clyde’s trademark sideburns were easily surpassed by the muttonchops worn by classmates James Escher and James Fillmore. When I saw my face positioned next to theirs in our yearbook, I felt naked.
Twenty: We had front row seats at the 1980 presidential election, and going into New Hampshire’s first-in-the-nation primary, there were 20 active candidates. Back then, nobody cared about Iowa except Chuck Blades, Dave Kollmorgen, and Todd Pellett. Every presidential hopeful made multiple visits to Dartmouth and I made a point of meeting all of them—even surrogates such as serial-presidential-impersonator Martin Sheen. Times were simpler. The politicians weren’t surrounded by handlers and the media. You could walk right up to them. When their speeches ended, they had nowhere else to go. Jerry Brown and I sat for more than 30 minutes in Alumni Hall after the other three attendees left. I was tempted to ask “Gov. Moonbeam” about Linda Ronstadt but didn’t. Somebody lured a bored John Anderson into the basement of Bones Gate for a game of Wales Tales with Hans Morris, Jim Novo, and me. Earl Grossman and I played some beer pong with a feisty and competitive John Connelly.
Forty:Do I need to remind you that our 40th reunion is scheduled for June 18-21, two short months from now? Registration is open: Just Google “dartmouth reunions 2020” for information. Hundreds of your favorite people have already signed up. Rub elbows with a smoother Rob Rough! Say hi to Jonathan Bye! Preempt your friends from talking behind your back. Reunion co-chairs Cathy McGrath and Alex Frank will take it personally if you don’t show up. Don’t make them put a horse head in your bed.
Fifty: Remarkably, this class column is my 50th one. It is also my last. When I first started as class scribe, my son, Luke, who will enter high school this fall, hadn’t been born yet! Over the years, I’ve had the pleasure of collaborating with three gracious and talented classmates: Paul Elmlinger, Rob Daisley, and Wade Herring. And best of all, the role has kept me in contact with many of you. Thank you for the privilege. We will close with a final tribute, presented in limerick form.
There are so many stories to tell
Cause our lives are a bottomless well
Filled with consummate meaning
There is nothing worth screening!
One truth and two lies. Ain’t that swell?
—Frank Fesnak, 242 River Road, Gladwyne, PA 19035; (408) 859-9652; ffesnak@gmail.com; Wade Herring, P.O. Box 9848, Savannah, GA 31412; (912) 944-1639; wherring@huntermaclean.com; Rob Daisley, 3201 W. Knights Ave., Tampa, FL 33611; (813) 300-7954; robdaisley@me.com
Twenty: We had front row seats at the 1980 presidential election, and going into New Hampshire’s first-in-the-nation primary, there were 20 active candidates. Back then, nobody cared about Iowa except Chuck Blades, Dave Kollmorgen, and Todd Pellett. Every presidential hopeful made multiple visits to Dartmouth and I made a point of meeting all of them—even surrogates such as serial-presidential-impersonator Martin Sheen. Times were simpler. The politicians weren’t surrounded by handlers and the media. You could walk right up to them. When their speeches ended, they had nowhere else to go. Jerry Brown and I sat for more than 30 minutes in Alumni Hall after the other three attendees left. I was tempted to ask “Gov. Moonbeam” about Linda Ronstadt but didn’t. Somebody lured a bored John Anderson into the basement of Bones Gate for a game of Wales Tales with Hans Morris, Jim Novo, and me. Earl Grossman and I played some beer pong with a feisty and competitive John Connelly.
Forty:Do I need to remind you that our 40th reunion is scheduled for June 18-21, two short months from now? Registration is open: Just Google “dartmouth reunions 2020” for information. Hundreds of your favorite people have already signed up. Rub elbows with a smoother Rob Rough! Say hi to Jonathan Bye! Preempt your friends from talking behind your back. Reunion co-chairs Cathy McGrath and Alex Frank will take it personally if you don’t show up. Don’t make them put a horse head in your bed.
Fifty: Remarkably, this class column is my 50th one. It is also my last. When I first started as class scribe, my son, Luke, who will enter high school this fall, hadn’t been born yet! Over the years, I’ve had the pleasure of collaborating with three gracious and talented classmates: Paul Elmlinger, Rob Daisley, and Wade Herring. And best of all, the role has kept me in contact with many of you. Thank you for the privilege. We will close with a final tribute, presented in limerick form.
There are so many stories to tell
Cause our lives are a bottomless well
Filled with consummate meaning
There is nothing worth screening!
One truth and two lies. Ain’t that swell?
—Frank Fesnak, 242 River Road, Gladwyne, PA 19035; (408) 859-9652; ffesnak@gmail.com; Wade Herring, P.O. Box 9848, Savannah, GA 31412; (912) 944-1639; wherring@huntermaclean.com; Rob Daisley, 3201 W. Knights Ave., Tampa, FL 33611; (813) 300-7954; robdaisley@me.com