In the winter of 1943
the world was at war. I had just turned 17 so I was not in the Army as yet and
war was a distant “thing”. I was a freshman at Yale and just prior to turning
17 I played basketball on the Varsity team. My first 15 minutes of fame came
when I was the high scorer in a game vs. Columbia played in NYC before a gaggle
of friends and family. The New York papers carried the story in headlines.
Several weeks later as
I entered the team’s locker room for a practice session, “Red Rolfe” of NY
Yankee fame and my basketball coach smiled as he passed me a letter he had pinned
on the bulletin board. It was addressed to Earl Bronsteen at Yale Athletic Gym
and the envelope was pink.
I sat down and read
the contents. It was from a young girl named Jeanne Godolphin whose father happened to be Dean of
Princeton University. She wrote that all her friends were sending letters to G.I.’s
overseas but she thought she’d write to me instead, after having read of my
exploits in the newspapers. She asked if I’d like to meet. We arranged to
get-together under the clock in Grand Central Station on Saturday next.
I can’t recall what I
dreamed would transpire at that meeting which was initiated in such a daring
manner for those times.
I was a typically libidinous virgin - - - perhaps I envisioned the two of us
rushing towards one another, with a ray of sunlight streaming on her golden long
hair and then, as our bodies touched, lifting her off her feet in a wild
embrace and then…
Well, we found each
other and it’s safe to say that from the very first moment no sparks flew - - -
for either of us. I don’t remember what we chatted about. After putting her
back on the train for Princeton I headed back to New Haven - - - chaste and chastened.
After the war she married Steve Kurtz who became Dean of Phillips Exeter
Academy. They left three children.
I wonder if any of her
children or grandchildren knows of this “poor man’s” version of the old tearjerker
movie, “Brief Encounter” as if they, or anyone else, would give a damn.
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