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!