Memories of the Rabbit

Tune ev'ry heart and ev'ry voice

Bid ev'ry care withdraw,

Let all with one accord rejoice

In praise of Old Nassau.

In praise of Old Nassau, my boys,

Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!

On the third and fourth floors of Patton Hall, on the campus of Princeton University, four studies, eight bedrooms and a bathroom had been combined into an undergraduate's idea of a comfortable duplex apartment. There, in the days when Harding was in the White House and F. Scott Fitzgerald chased his gin-filled grail, roomed nine Princetonians (Class of '22). One of them was a fellow always in a bustle about various campus activities (Daily Princetonian, Senior Council, etc.), and who had, in the words of one of his roommates, "a short, quick walk and a funny nose." For these characteristics he was nicknamed "Rabbit," and his roommates liked to draw pictures of rabbits (or parts of rabbits) on the wall. Rabbit is now better known as Adlai E. Stevenson, governor of Illinois and Democratic candidate for the presidency of the U.S.

The other eight roommates achieved various careers, none as eminent as Rabbit's.

John Tillotson Wainwright, who went into the U.S. foreign service, died a heroic death in 1930, trying to save two other swimmers in a raging sea.

Hunt Tilford Dickinson, of New York City and Locust Valley, L.I., whose principal occupation is to take care of his investments, told TIME he had nothing to say about his old roommate. But all of them remember Rabbit with affection. Although every one of them is now a Republican, one says flatly that he will vote for him, and some of the others are wavering.

Paul F. Griffin, of Wynnewood, Pa., went into "factory work and selling" after college, in 1940 got a law degree from Fordham, served with the Navy, later represented the Judge Advocate General's office on two Navy legal boards in Washington, and worked with the EGA in Germany. He is now executive secretary of the Armed Forces Regional Council of Pennsylvania and Delaware. Married, two children. Says he: "I know darned well the Rabbit was sincere when he said he didn't want the nomination."

H. Hamilton ("Monk") Hackney, of Cold Saturday Farm, near Baltimore, practiced law, served as chief judge of the Baltimore Juvenile Court, retired in 1943, and is now one of the most successful U.S. cattle breeders (Aberdeen-Angus). Hackney has a daughter and two sons, one son at Princeton ('53). He particularly remembers Stevenson's Hudson Super-Six roadster, which, to be kept in high gear, had to have someone sitting beside the driver to hold the gearshift. This need for a companion in his car, Hackney feels, may have helped Stevenson gain sixth place, in a field of 22, in the yearbook classification, "Thinks He Is the Biggest Fusser [i.e., Ladies' Man]." Hackney and Stevenson toured Spain in the summer of 1921, several times got into trouble when the locals mistook Stevenson's friendly remarks, delivered in faulty Spanish, for insults; after one such misunderstanding, the travelers were ejected from Burgos at bayonet point.

William Ellery Hale, of Pasadena, the son of famed Astronomer George Ellery Hale, who built Mount Wilson Observatory, has worked in an architect's firm, a brokerage house, a bank, is now assistant treasurer of the Thermador Electrical Manufacturing Co. Married, three sons (the oldest, Princeton '50). He recalls: "I was always messy and late sending my laundry . . . so I consistently borrowed underpants and starched shirts from Steve. He kept me well laundered for four years." Says Hale: "For the first time, I'm faced with the rather frightening possibility of voting for a Democratic

President. Stevenson's got the ability and the honesty. I just wish he weren't a Democrat."

Louis Winchester Jones, also of Pasadena, worked briefly in a brokerage firm and a bank, then started teaching English at CalTech, where he is now an associate professor, dean of admissions and registrar. Married, two sons. Jones recalls: "The Rabbit rushed thither and yon like a lost child, but dammit, he got things done . . . We kidded him because we others were a bunch of lazy guys sitting around on our duffs, and Stevenson was doing things . . . He took our kidding damn well, and in college you don't kid unless you like a guy . . . The Engineers have a slogan, 'Illegitimi Non Carborundum'* --Don't let the bastards wear you down--but in politics they do wear you down, as they wore down Steve's reluctance. I hope they don't wear him down any further." Despite his affection for Stevenson, he says: "Perhaps the time has come for a change of party."

William Ashton Tucker, of New York and Bozman, Md., started as a clerk with the J. Henry Schroder Banking Corp. in 1924, is now a vice president. Married, one daughter. He's not sure which way he will vote.

Douglas Ward, of Orange, N.J., went into real estate, then manufacturing (varnishes, synthetics). Married, three children. He recalls: "Stevenson was always messing around in club and class elections and liked to be in the center of things. We used to cry, 'You're as bad as your damn grandfather.' " Ward has decided to vote for Stevenson, has written Rabbit to that effect.

* By no means restricted to engineers, this tag has been popular in various forms with members of the R.A.F., the U.S. Navy (Non Illegitimi Carborundum), the Educational Division of the U.S. armed forces (Noli Illegitimi Carborundum) and the Harvard University Band (Illigitimum Non Carborundum). Thoroughly un-Ciceronian in all forms, it must be classed as illegitimate or Very Vulgar Latin.

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