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dated May 19, 1970:  "Tomorrow I complete 5.5 weeks of daily cobalt treatments at hospital. Side effects not good--can't sleep, eat or taste, I am still fighting."  That was typically Ed, battling right down to the wire. I'll never forget him. After his death, I corresponded briefly with one of his daughters and she promised to send me some of his accumulated "memorabilia" for reference in my writing but she never has. Probably she just hasn't gotten around yet to going through all his things.

Ken Cartwright, the Mechanical Engineer of the railroad and stationed in New Haven, almost always came long with Phil and Ed. Ken's forte was mechanical design and I think his subject of greatest excellence, was the steam locomotive. However, he was learned enough on the mechanical design of the electrics. As far as these switchers were concerned, the mechanical problems were minimal anyhow. Ken was New Englander all the way through. He had an accent you could cut with a knife. I think he hailed originally from New Hampshire and he had a good education, again maybe MIT.^[[*]] He was smart but basically lazy and far more interested in having a good time than participating heavily in the locomotive design. He was short and broad-shouldered, a trifle bowlegged, and he had a rolling, seamanlike gait, slow and very deliberate. He talked the same way. He could drink unlimited amounts of whisky without showing it. He had a huge line of stories which he collected on his many visits to vendors plants, something he obviously enjoyed. He liked to play golf and occasionally we'd get A. I. Totten, one of our older commercial men and one of the few prosperous enough to belong to Kahkwa, to take Ken out there for a round. But usually Ken would stick with the gang, licking his lips until the day's labor was over and we could go downtown and hole up in the City Club for a good old wassail bout followed eventually by dinner at the Den, where the food was excellent and plenty of it, served well in a cozy, attractive setting. For Ken, at least, I'm sure it had one drawback, however; they served nothing alcoholic. But Ken would reel off stories by the dozen, most of them excellent. His story specialty was telling French-Canadian ones and he had the accent down to a fine point of excellence which made them side-splitting. He was funny as a crutch very often and very pleasant to be with--but at the same time, you didn't fully respect him and wondered just how he held on to such a good job while exhibiting such little real dedication to it. I have a feeling that Ken's true love was the steam locomotive and when they faded out of the picture, he also began to fade. Baldwin Locomotive Works at Eddystone, Pennsylvania, being the New Haven's traditional supplier of steam, Ken had many friends there and I suspect he was unhappy to have to give up his trips to see them. I lost track of Ken gradually but believe he kept on with the New Haven at least until close to normal retirement age. I'm quite sure he has been dead now for a number of years.

^[[* MIT - 1912.]]