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Web Exclusives:
Under the Ivy July
2, 2003: This year's Reunions weekend brought rain, rain, and more rain, prompting director of alumni affairs Margaret Miller '80 to moan in an unguarded moment, "I should be fired," for bringing the wet stuff along with her to office. (She'll be happy to hear that one 25th reuner laughed it off, saying "it always rains.") The proud few celebrating their 70th reunion might have had a case of déjá vu — and agreed with our friend from the Class of 1978. On graduation weekend 1933, according to PAW, "As the leading classes reached Thompson Gate on Prospect Street, thunderclaps were shaking the heavens and buckets of water descended on the just and the unjust." The seniors, however, "kept their ranks unbroken to the very end," and with the storm finally clearing by late afternoon, the Tiger baseball team was able to get in its annual game against Yale (a 6-0 shutout by the Elis; perhaps rain would have been preferable). While the weekend was made unusually historic by the inauguration of 15th University president Harold Dodds, descriptions of the reunion celebration itself reverberate with familiarity. The Class of '78 — that's 1878 — marked its 55th, and "if heads were somewhat grayer and the pace somewhat slower that in the earlier periods, the trouble was not with the men but the years," wrote the class scribe. Two of the three surviving members of the Class of 1863 made their way back to Old Nassau to celebrate their 70th reunion, looking remarkably hale and hearty in a picture taken under their '63 banner. The rain put something of a damper on the Class of 1908's 25th, though not for classmate Deak Neff. According to Class Notes, Neff skipped the wet baseball game, instead making the rounds of sparsely attended reunions tents to regale the few participants with the story that Princeton was leading Yale, 5-4, on the strength of a Nubs Harlan home run. As the class secretary explains, his eager audience "did not know that Deak's mind was dwelling in a golden past. They did not know that Nubs's homer antedated their memory. So they welcomed the bearer of apparently good tidings, and they pressed upon the herald of joy their choicest vintages." A sweet scam for Mr. Neff. The Class of 1918 sported artists' smocks and berets as class costume, and the class's creativity was on display at its class dinner Saturday night, where honorary degrees were awarded to several classmates. Two New Jersey town mayors earned Ph. D.s (Doctorate of Political Hooey), while another went home with an LL.D. (Doctor of Ladies' Lingerie) — a fitting companion for his classmate who received a "well-earned Bachelor of Hearts." To judge from published reports, perhaps the merriest time was
had by the Class of 1916, celebrating 17 years out. At a class dinner
on Friday, after partaking of "as potent a brew as was ever
served at a civilized banquet under the name of punch," the
"survivors" heard from their class officers, including
class agent Pick Heintz, who "made a touching appeal for contributions.
He received some, but no money." On Saturday, "a sudden
rain storm momentarily disrupted the shock troops, but we reformed
(actually, not spiritually) and swam across the diamond to our seats
behind home plate. There was a ball game. Saturday evening again
produced song and wassail and a 1916 time was had by all. Pick Heintz
announced a healthy deficit, which makes it just perfect. And so
home and to bed" — warm and dry at last.
Jane Martin ’89 is PAW's former editor-in-chief. You can reach her at paw@princeton.edu
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