Class News

Class of '64 Spring Golf Outing 5/11/12

[Webmaster's note: The following account of this annual outing was provided by Chris Getman. In view of the Class's high regard for Mr. Getman, fact-checking has been waived.]

The day broke bright and clear.  As a result rookie tournament chair, Neil Hoffmann, was summarily fired on the spot.  "This is an egregious violation of the Class of 1964's Golf by-laws," proclaimed Buck Wilson.  "I demand a recall."   Immediately a coalition board of John "Cyclone" Evans, and Tony "Hurricane" Lee was installed.

"I've never been so pissed off in all of my life," grumbled Jim Thompson, who had made the trek from Brooklyn, Connecticut. " What's the challenge of playing  when the weather is nice?  It's simply no fun."

"Agreed," chimed in Dave Lindsay. "I drove 130 miles for this?"  "I could have been outside, sitting on my deck, having a beer," growled Don Crabtree. "Instead I've got to be on a bleeping golf course?  Who are you guys trying to kid?"

"Calm down guys," responded the newly established junta of Lee and Evans.  "We promise to have things back to normal in the Fall."

The natives quieted down, but continued to grumble.  Lee, annoyed that Widdy's restaurant did not have a traditional bean-sprout salad muttered "I'm going to show those bastards," and ordered a double cheeseburger with fries and  onion rings.

Putzel then arose and made a proclamation.  "You guys all know that our class is on a campaign to honor every deceased classmate with a brick in  the Mory's courtyard.  We have 126 deceased classmates and to date have ordered 106 bricks, and have a small 'discretionary' fund of five or six more.  Today, we ask each of you to donate $25 to the Class Brick Fund for every lost ball you have.  The rule is that there can be no substitutions.  If you lose your ball and find another, you're still down one ball."  After picking Trippe up off the floor, ashen-faced to a man, the assembled warriors reluctantly submitted to Putzel' s ultimatum.

"I left my trust officer at home," a terrified Brin Ford, our Harvard interloper, murmured.  "I don't want to cause a run on the market on Monday."

Lee and Evans responded gently, "It's okay Brin, we'll give you until Thursday to come up with the money, so you can leak your portfolio into the market over a period of several days."

Once the rules had been established, the participants were faced with a very troubling dilemma. Was there anyone in the assemblage who was honest enough to keep track of the lost balls. This conundrum was particularly enhanced by the fact that there was a preponderance of lawyers in the group.

That said, once the obligatory "group photo" was taken with Getman's wide-angle camera, which miraculously worked for a change, the groups were formed and play began.

The first group of Putzel, Trippe, Lee and Padley, whom Lee, in his capacity as attendance chair for the fiftieth reunion, had unearthed in the witness-protection program, let fly, posting three lost balls at once, and the games began.

The next foursome consisted of Getman, Francis, who as class valedictorian was deemed honest enough to keep track of the lost balls, and McAlaney and McFarland, two lawyers by trade.  More on that later.

Next to go was the chagrined Hoffmann, perennial sandbagger, Bob Chester, just back from a six-month stint in Japan trying to protect hapless villagers from further damage from the tsunami, and Neil's son Peter, an artist, who was completely perplexed by all of the BS flying around him.

Following the Hoffmann trio was the group of Galvin, Evans, Thompson and Crabtree, not a lawyer, or at least an admitted one, amongst them. We were playing off of Galvin's stated 10 handicap. Given the composition of their group, their net score was automatically assumed to be honest along with their count of lost balls.

Finally, the team of Wilson, Ford, Lindsay and Capodilupo, the designated scorekeeper by dint of his distinguished career in business, hit the fairways.

On the third hole, something strange happened.  McFarland hit his tee shot into the pond.  Immediately one could see his Scottish DNA kick in as he sprinted back to his car.  "Go on without me," he yelled, "I'll be back as soon as possible."  It turns out that Alan, in fear of needing to contribute $25 to the Mory's brick fund, had a Scottish anxiety attack and went to a local marina, where he rented a scuba outfit for $165 in order to retrieve his  ball. He would rejoin us on the 13th tee, with the ball and thirteen others proudly in his possession. When he hit one into the water on 17, he was able to recover it in seconds.

McAlaney was having a particularly difficult time.  "I can't get used to being able to see where my ball is going," he griped.  "In the good old days, when you were hitting into a monsoon, once the ball disappeared into the tempest, you always knew it would be somewhere in the middle of the fairway and could invoke the 'leaf ball' rule.  These conditions suck."

With the exception of Trippe and McAlaney we all adjourned to Mory's where we were joined by Tom and Nancy Trowbridge along with Toddie Getman and Joy Ford, who enhanced the quality and tone of the room dramatically. The food was great as was the service, and a good time was had by all.

Then came the reckoning.  The team of Capodilupo, Lindsay, Ford and Wilson claimed to have shot a net 61.  As exhibit A , which will be forthcoming shortly, demonstrates, either Larry was an English major or he is a close relative of Bernie Madoff. Check it out for yourselves. The rules committee immediately disqualified them. The Evans, Galvin, Thompson and Crabtree group claimed a 68, but failed to turn in their scorecard.  Since there were no lawyers in the group, the 68 was allowed to stand. Likewise, the Lee, Trippe, Padley, Putzel team left without turning in their score. The word "embarrassed" was heard in sotto voce as they departed the premises.  It's assumed that they were worse than 68, but their net will remain a dark secret forever.  The two Hoffmanns and the Bagger showed a legitimate 71. How could one dispute the renderings of an artist, an architect, and a FEMA employee?

That left the ultimate determination of tournament champion to a showdown between group three's 68 and team two, whose scorecard read 75.  It seems that somewhere buried in the bylaws is a little-known provision that states "a team that shall consist of more than one lawyer shall, as compensation, be awarded three strokes." As McFarland and McAlaney were both deemed to be or have been practicing attorneys, three strokes were duly deducted from team two's gross.  The real kicker arose where, when trying to attribute scores during McFarland's hiatus, McAlaney, with true legal decorum, simply stated, "That's easy. We know he'd have parred every hole he missed."  When you factor in his handicap, that gives team two five strokes and a net 67. Who's going to argue with a practicing attorney?

On a sad note, Putzel was greeted on the 18th green by two plainclothes Federal security agents.  It seems that he was caught on the surveillance camera on the ninth tee, taking out a ball with Getman's face on it and firing it into the pond while screaming "Die, you sucker, die."  He was charged with one count of first-degree manslaughter and marched off in handcuffs.  The agents assured us that he'd be out in time to run our 50th reunion.

Once an honest accounting of the number of lost balls was determined and an audit was conducted by Price Waterhouse, it was determined that we'd have enough money to build a small mausoleum honoring our classmates in the Mory's courtyard.  Completion is expected by the spring of 2013. 

Those of you who haven't done so — and I noticed a foreclosure sign on Ford's house — can honor your obligation by sending a check to Mory's Preservation Inc. and mailing it to Getman at 31 Whitney Ave.  New Haven, Conn. 06510.

Thanks.