With the Fourth War Loan Drive due to end Feb. 15, the folks back home here in the village of Monticello have again hurdled their quota-this time $34,204-by a substantial margin. Figures released by the Green County Campaign Chairman as of Monday evening, Feb. 7th, credit Monticello with sales of $48,455, and when the final sales are added to this figure, the showing of the village should be even more commendable. First community in Green county to go "over the top" in the Third War Loan Drive, Monticello's performance in the current campaign is also noteworthy because the purchases were purely voluntary. No solicitors were sent out this time to canvass village residents. Even so, Monticello was the second community in the county to reach its quota, ranking next to New Glarus.
In the surrounding rural area-also as of Monday evening, Feb. 7-Mt Pleasant township had subscribed $15,832 of its $29,379 quota, while Washington township was credited with sales of $12,340.50 against a quota of $32,102.
That comments appearing in parenthesis throughout The Drizzle are the
personal observations of The Drizzler.
"LOOKA" HERE, FELLOWS, THE DOC'S DONE IT ONCE MORE-
A few Drizzles ago, that genial, scholarly gentleman of the Southwest Pacific, Capt. Harold (Doc) Youngreen, the erstwhile high-powered dispenser of refreshments and personality-plus at the Graf Chateau, tossed a big bombshell right smack in the middle of a Drizzle, the explosion of which showered a bunch of beautiful wisecracks upon such distinguished global gentlemen as C. J. (Jake the Joker) Dick, the Monticello trucking tycoon now the pride of Cardiff, Wales; Erwin James Kissling, the Yale Yodeler; Whitey Hill, well-known character builder and ping-pong coach, now known as "The Georgia Peach" (with The Drizzler's most humble apologies to Ty Cobb; P. Emil Voegeli, who is over in Scotland teaching the Scotchmen new tricks about economy; Louie (The Lonely Lover) Wyss, ex-glamour boy of the Grand Central Hotel but more recently acquiring new romantic prestige and acclaim as the "Dandy Dan" of Australian society; and "Bo" Woelffer, the Texas cowboy, who thinks that California is a mighty fine state and not just because of its oranges, either. After "Doc" had heaved this bombshell at his old cronies, he left us with this parting note: "I shall now retire to my bomb-proof shelter to await developments." The very next Drizzle brought forth some bursts of righteous retaliation from a number of the doctor's victims. Other issues of The Drizzle passed without even a peep from "Doc." The Drizzler began to worry. Had Doc fallen asleep in his shelter and was he still snoozing all these weeks, or did the door jam and he was unable to get out? Happily we were wrong. Because this week, from far out in the Southwest Pacific,
"Doc" fired another blast at his comrades in arms-no you're wrong there, Whitey-I mean firearms!
Just look at the way Capt. Youngreen pours it on in his latest exhibit of nimble literature:
"Dear Drizzle: I couldn't resist that salutation, Roz, honest. Now if I were a stinker like a certain fair-haired Lothario I know (Poor Whitey), I would add the "puss" to that. (Call me anything you want to , Doc, so long as you keep shootin' along these interesting letters.)
"Now, after that preparatory burst, I shall go back a bit. After the shelling I took in the November attack, I was left fairly dazed but not beaten. My rigorous army training brought me back full of fight-and I didn't say Budweiser. After getting my G-2 reports, however, I decided on a tactical withdrawal. And therein lies another tale, so please pardon a brief divergence from the main effort.
"I am now in the South Pacific after spending an un-Christmas-like Christmas on board boat. The ship was a very nice one and the meals were wonderful. All in all, the trip was enjoyable and uneventful. New Year's Eve was spent in a pup tent with about six inches of mud and water. A highly enjoyable evening! And of course all the garnishments necessary to a New Year's Eve were totally lacking. Aside from the water-of which there is an abundance-this is the driest spot I have yet encountered. After a great amount of work we have our area built up so that it is practically livable. We do our own laundry and some of my men have devised some ingenious washing machines. They will probably never put Maytag out of business, but they do the trick. We are wearing shorts now, except when evening comes when we have to cover up in deference to "Dame Anopheles." We have outdoor movies almost every night.
"I have been in constant conference with my staff working out our strategy and plan of attack. My immediate objective is a certain Hill which we have designated as Whitey, or the Lover of the Louisiana Lagoons. My intelligence reports that the objective is well-entrenched behind a formidable array of blondes, brunettes, and what have you. That is the question-what do you have, Whitey, that the rest of the army doesn't have. Possibly Roz has the answer! (Ask me something hard, Doc, ask me something hard. Why, Whitey's got everything-a pretty profile, poise, prestige, punctuality, pride, personality, but why go on. It's endless, I tell you, Doc, it's endless so I'm going to end it right here and save my breath.) Seriously, Roz, I wouldn't encourage him in these horrible puns. You can't tell what it might lead to. (Most likely to another blonde or brunette.)
"Another report I received tells me the Texas Rangers have oiled up their long rifles and are in pursuit of a certain Wolf. Imagine my surprise and consternation to learn that it is none other than that answer to a nurse's dream-"Wolf" Woelffer. I understand he was somewhat nonplussed one day while drilling the nurses when he gave the command. "About, Face!" and one little nurse asked, "What about my face?" But, cool and calculating as he is in the face of any emergency, the "Wolf" comes back with, "That will require a bit of home work." A neat bit of rapid thinking, I would say. It is easy to see he had his early tutelage under that master of mind-molding, H. Adolphus (you-should-have-seen-the-one-that-got-away) Becker.
"Have lost contact with a couple of worthy gentlemen-the title assumed by an act of Congress. One of them is P. Emil (Who's-got-the-Gavel) Voegeli, the former legal larcenist located at the Limburger Special Terminal. The last I heard he was wearing Scotch kilts. The other is the peer of the pool hall H. (Hoppe) Babler. I understand he was going to emerge from his igloo where he has been keeping his touch using an icicle for a cue and frozen codfish balls. You recall he became famous for his no-cushion, no-ball shot. (Say, Hoppe, way up there in the Aleutians: Are you going to stand for these cruel aspersions on your billiard ball wizardry-you, whose brilliance with the ivories has caused you to be nicknamed after none other than the great Willie himself? Why don't you go out and devour a good chunk of raw polar bear, then come back with a real sizzler at the doctor. I'm awaitin'.) Hoppe's running mate, Fritz Haldiman, is up to his usual tricks-training in the park-a.
"Well, Driz, old boy, I am running short of ammunition. Here's hoping
1944 will see a reunion of all the drips contributing to The Drizzle. In
the meantime, back to my coco-hut. I have a charming little room-mate-Louie,
my pet lizard. Cheerio, Youngreen"
Lt. Frederick Steinmann, chief paymaster at the Quartermaster's
Supply Depot in Chicago where he has been stationed for the past six or
seven months, leaves next week for Duke University where he will spend
a month taking special studies in accounting. . . Clarence Wittwer,
until his induction into the army some months ago employed in an office
position by American Airlines in Chicago, is a corporal, stationed at Brookley
Field, Mobile, Ala. "Swanny", as we used to call Clarence, played guard
on Monticello's 1926 district championship basketball team which also included
his brother, "Hoot," also in the army but just where we don't know-Marv
Babler, Colie Blum, Wilson Milbrandt, now a naval lieutenant
stationed in California, and Glenn Ripley, the local painter and
decorator. . . Major "Les" Weissmiller is now well established in
his position as executive officer of Deshon General Hospital at Butler,
Penn., 40 miles from Pittsburgh. Mrs. Weissmiller is in Madison
this week making final arrangements to move their household furnishings
to Butler where they were fortunate to find an apartment after a considerable
search without success. "Billy" Conn, the well-known Pittsburgh pugilist,
visited the hospital the other day and he and the Major had their pictures
taken together. I imagine that when William makes his next appearance in
the ring, he'll probably come up with a lot of new and fancy stuff that
"Les" tipped him off to. . . Louie Wyss of Australia and Fritz
Haldiman of the Aleutians are both sergeants now. . . Leonard Felts,
oldest son of Rev. A. R. Felts, formerly of Monticello, is serving
with the army overseas. Drizzle readers know, of course, that his brother,
Leo, is in the navy because Leo is one of our regular correspondents-we
have a letter from him for this issue. . . Roger Foster, son of
E. W. Foster, Port Washington, former local principal and coach,
is stationed at the army air base at Pueblo, Colo. "Rog" was Wisconsin's
leading pole vaulter during his last year at the state university and also
scored heavily in the broad jump. "Heine" Reese, the former Albany
newspaper magnate and for some years assistant at The Messenger office
here, is also at the Pueblo air base. . . "Ken" Kennedy, who has
held a position in the public information division of TVA at Knoxville
(Tenn.) since 1936, leaves the first of the week on his return there after
a ten-day visit at home. His father C. D. Kennedy, submitted to
a major operation in St. Clare hospital at Monroe last Saturday morning
and hoped to be able to return to his home here today. "Ken," who reigned
the Western Conference as quarter-mile champion while attending the University
of Wisconsin, from which he graduated in 1926-later to become national
quarter-mile title holder running under the colors of the Illinois Athletic
Club-relates this interesting little incident: When he received a letter
recently from his old high school and university classmate, Dr. "Ott"
Blum, stationed in the Southwest Pacific as a lieutenant in the navy,
"Ott" had this clever, indirect way of telling him just where he is located:
"I am on an island with a name which begins with the same letters as the
village north of Roswell's home town." Can you guess it? Awfully easy-almost
like tumbling off a log.
FROM THE PEN-'N'-PENCIL FRONT-
From Pfc. Orville Anderson, Co. G. 112th Infantry,
Somewhere in the British Isles: "Received my first copy of The Drizzle
some time ago. Sure was surprised to get it, as I am a New Glarus boy,
but thanks a lot, anyway, because I know a lot of Monticello fellows. I
am married to a girl from west of Monticello. Her dad's name is Conrad
Elmer and we were married by Rev. Achtemeier. As you said, the
subscription price to The Drizzle is an interesting letter, I'll try my
best. We've been over here for some time, stationed somewhere in the British
Isles-the land of hedges instead of fences, and two-wheeled carts drawn
by one horse. Very beautiful country and the people sure are friendly.
I've become acquainted with a few families in town, and whenever I go to
visit them, I have to have tea almost right away. Tea is a favorite drink
in this country. We are stationed only 20 minutes walk from town where
we can get beer and some times spirits. They have a good Y.M.C.A. and two
different places to go and rest, drink tea and eat tarts or cakes. Also
have two places for movies. We get plenty to eat and good, warm huts to
stay and sleep in-for which we should be thankful. Don't know if this letter
will pay my subscription to The Drizzle today. Each copy is more interesting
and dear to me. Thanks to you and the rest of the staff for the fine work
you are doing. Keep them coming! The Drizzle certainly makes one realize
what a fine job the rest of my buddies are doing. I am planning very strongly
on coming home in March. I'm surely looking forward to visiting all my
old friends in Monticello, but the big day will be when this is over and
we can all get together again. Being in a place like this really makes
a fellow realize what a wonderful place one has left behind. I'll never
forget the days we boys used to hang around the post office and argue about
baseball and Wisconsin's football and basketball games. This isn't much
of a letter, Roz, but I will write more next time. Will be waiting for
the next copy of The Drizzle. Wishing all the boys the best of luck, I
remain, Leo. (Yes, I remember those athletic arguments, too, Leo. Fun,
weren't they? In the meantime, I'll be looking for your next letter). .
. From Lt. Betty Jane Woelffer, 98th Evacuation Hospital,
APO 184, C/O PM, Los Angeles: "Received The Drizzle yesterday after a 35-mile
ride in a G.I. truck and it sure did brighten up my spirits. I do believe
our driver hit every bump in the road and there were plenty. I wish Uncle
Sam would cushion those seats, but I suppose the best way is to grin and
bear it. We are in maneuvers now and it seems all we do is pack and unpack.
All we have with us are our bed rolls and musette bags, so you see we just
get along with the bare necessities. At one time I would never have dreamed
that a hospital could be folded up and put on a truck, but it can. It is
a lot of heavy work, though. I am in surgery at the present time and like
it real well. We have a very good set-up-nothing elaborate, just convenient.
Our camp is now situated near the mountains and the sand dunes are just
a short way in front of us. Very beautiful, especially in the morning and
evening. Oh, Whitey, you should see that moon come over the mountain. Woo!
Woo! (Ah, after all these year's. The Drizzler has found out what makes
Whitey act so peculiar at times. He likes "moonshine.") Time to crash that
chow line so must rush off. Will be waiting to hear from you again. Sincerely,
B. J." . . From "Art" Babler, Sea 2/c, Class 38, Coast Guard Trng
Sta., 138 So. Virginia Ave., Atlantic City, N.J.: "Received the January
edition of The Drizzle a couple of days ago and enjoyed reading every word
of it. Even get a few new angles on my kid brother (Leon, who is
a navigator on a Flying Fortress and has already participated in many raids
over the European continent) over there in England through your publication.
Suppose I'll have to dig up a bicycle for myself now, too, seeing C. J.
is roaming around Wales on one of them. Can't let him get ahead of me.
How about it, Whitey? As you will notice from my new address, I am now
located in Atlantic City, N. J., where I expect to remain another four
or five months going to Radio Operator School. Really don't mind hitting
the books again after a several-years lay-off from them. We are living
in a hotel, which is situated one block off the famous Atlantic City "boardwalk."
Living conditions are good. From our "crow's nest" up here in the hotel,
we can look out over the ocean which is especially scenic this morning
because of the beautiful sun rise. Say, Roz, how are "Elm" Freitag
and "Walt" Haddinger doing back there? (They're coming along fine,
Art. Both of 'em are engulfed in a wave of prosperity and they're rapidly
acquiring the status of captains of capitalism.) So long for now and thanks
much for sending The Drizzle. Sincerely, Art." . . From "Boob" Kissling,
well-known both as "The Malted Milk Kid" and the idol of Yale university's
sorority row: "Dear Roz: I'd better write so I'm sure of getting that Drizzle.
I'm so used to it that I'd be lost if I didn't get it. The reason I haven't
written before is because they're really pouring it on this term. They're
trying to cut A.S.T.P. as much as possible and you know how they'll do
that. One of the fellows from another company just came over with his pay.
He got $102, all in ones and what a roll that makes. I wish I had it. Course
I'll go out and help him spend it-I hope. Right now some of the boys are
playing imaginary hockey, using the roll as a puck. Say, has Whitey received
his commission yet? I hope so. Then I'd like to get back in an outfit with
him. Course don't tell him that. ("Boob," I solemnly promise not to tell
Whitey, but he'll probably read it. Anyway, the poor guy's taken so much
"guying," he deserves at least a little break.) Well, Roz, I can't think
of any more to write so I'll close. Oh, yes, we play for the basketball
championship tomorrow afternoon. Be good, Boob." (Here's hopin' your eye
for the hoop was just as sharp as it used to be, Boob, and that your team
breezed through to the title by a comfortable margin.)
LET'S TAKE ANOTHER RAMBLE AT RANDOM-
Sgt. Wilbert Marty, tail gunner on a Flying fortress, who already
has numerous raids over Europe to his credit, says the medical officer
of his squadron, a captain, is a Lake Geneva boy. Some of these days soon,
Wilbert's going over to talk about "good old Wisconsin." . . Marine
Private Eddie Loeffel, who went into that branch of the service last
October with Joe Gmur, the former local razor and scissors sensation,
was sent into the Pacific area with his unit several weeks ago and is believed
by his parents to have taken part in the conquest of the Marshall Islands,
Joe is still in the states, stationed at the Marine base near San Diego
as barber in the post. Mrs. Gmur left here Saturday to spend several
weeks with him. . . Eddie Loeffel's brother, Pfc. Armin,
stationed at the army camp at Presidio near San Francisco, writes "Just
a line to tell you I am receiving The Drizzle and enjoy it very much. I
like my work. It is doing town duty in Frisco, working with the civilian
police. They sure keep a fellow busy. The weather isn't bad out here. A
little wet at times, but warm. Well, how's everybody in Monticello? Say
hello to them all. Must quit and hit the hay. Tomorrow is another work
day." . . "Bud" Wirth telephoned Saturday night from California,
informing his wife that he was graduating on the 7th from a
two-months course preparing him for office work, also that he expected
to be shipped out to sea shortly. Mrs. Wirth left Chicago Sunday
for the coast, due to arrive in Oakland on the 9th. . . Sgt.
Warren J. Murphy, famous as an authority on problems of the heart and
home while he was achieving equal renown as the culinary ace of the Midway,
that well-known mecca of local wind-jammers owned by J. Pierpont Lobbs,
president of the local Bank of Greece, is here on a 15-day furlough from
Camp Barkeley, Texas. Warren expects to be sent overseas at an early date.
Since his arrival home, he has undoubtedly gone into several confidential
huddles with his two old confederates, G. Clarke Zimmerman, Monticello
socialite, who dwells at 315 Aristocracy Knob in the Gold Coast District,
and G. Kooreman, the local waltz king. . Warren's sister, Pvt.
June Murphy, stationed with the WACs near Clovis, N.M., is also here.
. . An interesting visit with Cpl. Paulus A. Roth, Monroe, home
from Jan. 27 to Feb. 6 for his first furlough in 11 months. After leaving
Coyne Electrical School in Chicago, P. A. finished the Anti-Aircraft Fire
Control School at Camp Davis, M. C., then was assigned to the 509th
A. A. A. Gun Battalion at Camp Edwards, Mass., which is located right
out on the cape, 70 miles from Boston. He has charge of the maintenance
and servicing of fire control equipment for his battalion. These 120 mm.
anti-aircraft guns are really "big boys." Each gun, with its mount, weights
61,500 pounds, according to Paulus, and they are towed by 16-ton tractors.
The two component parts of the shells they fire weigh 100 pounds. . . Walter
Zentner, USN, writes that he recently wrote The Drizzler a letter,
but that it "was rejected for a word I happened to put in it. Which reminds
me to tell you that there is no such thing as a Private in the navy-only
secrets. My other letter was somewhat longer than this one, but you see
our sensor does not stop to cut part of it out-he just returns it and we
have to rewrite it. I'll try to write more some time later." (That's fine,
Walter, and we'll be looking for that letter.)
MORE NEWS FROM THE PEN-'N'-PENCIL FRONT-
From "Bob" Blumer, the bard of northern Ireland: "Just a few
lines to say hello. By the way, how's that Two-Gun-Totin' Sheriff by this
time? Tell him I said to write when he hasn't anything else to do. How's
Farmer Clark and the rest of the rural route kids-still whistling while
they work? Give my regards to the old Irish Chief, C. F. Jordan of
Jimtown. Tell him and Bill Blum to drop me a few lines one of these
days." . . From Pvt. Melvin H. Elmer, from Somewhere in the Southwest
Pacific: "I received my second copy of The Drizzle recently and I want
to send my appreciation and gratitude for it. A paper like The Drizzle
with news about our buddies is one of the things that can encourage us
boys in the service. I am looking forward to the day when I can return
and see all my old friends. By the grace of God and the strong right arm
of Uncle Sam, that day may come soon. Until then, best wishes for the continued
success of The Drizzle." . . From Pvt. Alvin Schmid, member of the
Marines and former local high school athletic enthusiast now also stationed
in the Southwest Pacific: "I'm getting used to the jungle climate now.
The heat doesn't bother me much any more. The natives here are real small.
They are about 5 feet 2 inches tall and weigh about 110 pounds. A few of
them can speak English. Some of the fruit is O.K. I saw the motion picture
"Song of the Island," and Betty Grable, who had one of the leading
roles in it, said that she'd rather have one of these islands out here
than 10% of the rest of the world. Well, she can have my 10% of the islands
for a ride to the states and I'd work like hell to pay for the trip. But
it isn't bad after all. We are still getting plenty to eat, but they could
learn a new way to prepare corn beef. I saw some of the members of Co.
K of Monroe. There isn't so many of the old boys left. I saw Harris
Germann, Nathan Ringhand, Clarance Gessler, Walter
Shield, and a Marty of New Glarus. Bob Amans was transferred
just before I met them. He's a second lieutenant now." . . From Frances
Voegeli Hoskins, who with her husband, Lt. Jack Hoskins, is
now living at West Palm Beach, Fla.: "Got your welcome Drizzle the other
day and it was sure good. They insist on trying to make Florida crackers
out of us, don't they? Only now we, too, think it is beautiful. Our trip
down was all down the east coast and this side of Florida is truly beautiful.
Palm Beach is just across the bridge so between the two towns we have everything.
Camp Murphy is 28 miles from here so we are doubly grateful for our car.
Jack drives out every morning and back every night. It surely seems grand
having him up and at it again. He feels perfect and looks better than ever.
(Drizzle readers will recall that Jack was seriously ill for a number of
months. Incidentally, Jack, it's swell to hear that you're feeling
so swell). He's on six months limited service, after which he will
have to be reclassified. Guess, I'll have to close for now Roz. Just wanted
to tell you that we appreciate The Drizzle so much. Regards to everyone
back home in Monticello. As ever, Fran and Jack." . . Ah, and look what
we have here! A nice letter from "Chet" Becker, the Monroe merchant
prince and golf wizard, now of Camp Phillips, Kans. Whereas "Doc" Youngreen,
the esteemed medico of the Southwest Pacific, was a bit bashful about the
manner in which he addressed The Drizzler, "Chet" steps boldly forth without
as much as wiggling an eyelash, just like this: "Dear Drizzlepusser: A
bit tardy I am in thanking you for The Drizzle, but I want you to know
I enjoy every bit of it. I've kept in pretty good contact with ol" Monticello
ever since school days when we used to tour up to "Monkeytown" to take
our usual thumping in track from Ken and How Kennedy, Les Weissmiller,
the Marty boys, Chip Babler, Susie Richards, and the
rest of you upstarts. By the way, what was your prof's name and what's
happened to him? (Earle Foster and he's on the physical education
staff at Port Washington high where's he's been for ten years or more.)
You certainly got The Drizzle here in a hurry. I just barely had time to
visit Monticello and check on the school teacher situation (How does the
situation look, Chet?-promising?), get back from furlough, and lo and behold,
The Drizzle was awaiting me. Quicker than a dun for a subscription. I'd
like to say a lot of noble and uplifting things about the army, but I'm
just another soldier doing a job. After wearing the fuzz off my chest for
eight months in the infantry, they finally discovered that supply work
was more up my alley so I'm storekeeping for Uncle Sam. Again, thanks a
million, keep up the good work, and regards to you and yours. Pvt. Becker.
(Swell hearing from you, "Chet!" Now, don't get out of the habit.)
To these Drizzle donors: Jack Steinmann, Walt Haddinger, Otto Babler,
Arthur Miller, L. R. Pease, Frederick Voegeli, Jacob Stauffer, O. D. Curtis,
J. W. Barlow, Dr. H. J. Horne, George Griffey, C. M. Stauffer, Mr. and
Mrs. Albert Marty, Mrs. C. F. Jordan, Mrs. Rose Roth, Mrs. Olin Mitmoen,
Mrs. J. P. Zweifel, Mrs. R. W. Nelson of Madison, Mrs. Thomas Brusveen,
and Klassy Milling Co.
It just occurs to The Drizzler that he never answered those questions
put to him by that distinguished citizen of Northern Ireland, "Bob"
Blumer, whom that famous song writer must have had in mind when he
wrote that great favorite, ":My Wild Irish Rose." Those questions concerning
the health and well-being of the "Two-Gun-Totin" Sheriff (Pat Schoonover),
Farmer F. Gilbert Clark, and C. F. Jordan, known in the more
aristocratic society circles as Sir Cecil Frederick Jordan. Well,
Bob, Pat's as deadly a shot as ever. Understand he's never missed a bull's
eye yet. Farmer Clark is engaged in a lofty research project which
he hopes will cause two blades of grass to grow where only one grew before,
and Sir Cecil Frederick devotes most of his spare time to his mink
interests when he isn't lounging in his study, browsing through the Shakespearean
literary classics. . . From far-away Iran comes word from Wendell (Windy)
Miller, the military policeman, that he enjoys The Drizzle very much
and also that all the boys in his outfit also read it. He says that the
weather is really swell there now, that for two months he's been on military
guard every night from 4 p.m. to 7:30 a.m. His brother, Gaylord,
USN, is now at sea, apparently in the Pacific. . . Tommy Brusveen's
in England, much impressed by the scenic beauties. . . Louie Ubert's
back at Camp Campbell (Ky.) after a furlough. Kenneth Pearson's
also at the same camp. . . Sgt. Debbie Moritz is expected to leave
for overseas soon. . . Pvt. Ted and Mrs. (Shirley Curtis) Butler
are here from Marianna (Fla.) . . Ted has a 15-day furlough, due back the
18th. He's stationed at the air field there. . . A few lines
from "Bob" Marty, who's doing such a fine job as editor of The Roll
Call, the newsy, attractive Monroe servicemen's publication published by
Lakeshire-Marty Co. Says Bob: "Just read your Jan. issue as "Doc" Cunningham
yanked a wisdom tooth. Very good!" I've always felt that "Bob" and
"Doc" were a couple of extremely capable gentlemen and now I absolutely
know it! Such versatility!! . . To "Al" Lauridsen, the Louisville
(Ky.) roofing magnate: Did you know that when you were here on your recent
visit after an 11-year absence, "Doc" Cunningham waited nearly two
hours to tell you about your old mutual pal? Harold Metcalf, still
on the Oak Park (Ill.) H.S. faculty, but he couldn't get in touch with
you. You were in F. Harold Kubly's "Inspiration Inn" at the time.
. . Whitey Hill was due to waft blithely into the hamlet yesterday
after completing his officer's training at Fort Benning, but haven't seen
him yet.
Another Drizzle drizzles into a drip. In the meantime, tons of good
luck to all of you! Until one month from today, Cheerio!