Scribbling Rivalry: Two Alumni Take One-upmanship to the Page

As the younger of two brothers, I know a little something about rivalry. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so amused to observe the development of a certain rivalry with a Princeton classmate over the years.

I met Henry Von Kohorn ’66 my first week at Princeton, 63 years ago, when we were assigned rooms on the same floor of the same entry of Dod Hall. Henry was from Greenwich, Connecticut, and the Hotchkiss School. I was from Floyds Knobs (no kidding), Indiana, and the local public high school.

We became friends and eventually roomed in the same Hamilton Hall suite. Unlike most college friendships, ours strengthened after graduation, even though Henry lives in Princeton, and I live in Indiana (but not Floyds Knobs). We keep in close touch — closer in fact, as the years go by, thanks to email and FaceTime.

At Princeton I hated writing and dreaded term papers and essays. I haven’t asked him, but I’ll bet Henry was the same. That’s why it’s so surprising that, starting around age 60 or so, we both began devoting significant leisure time to writing.

Henry is more disciplined in his writing than I am. He keeps a daily journal, has written three privately published books, and writes a detailed report on every Princeton football game (sad work last season).

I regularly contribute to two American Bar Association publications, and irregularly to a few others. Usually, my submissions are intended to be humorous.

But in a few areas, our writing interests coincide. That’s where a friendly but (until now) unspoken rivalry has arisen.

It started with entries to The New Yorker cartoon caption contest. I wasn’t conscious of a rivalry, but I did feel a sense of relief when I was the first to be named as one of three finalists. (I didn’t win.)

I began to suspect a rivalry when Henry actually won the contest, and The New Yorker published his name and caption for the world to see. My envy was made worse by a conviction that my own submission was superior.

I eventually won the contest. Fortuitously, it happened the month before our 50th reunion, enabling me to feign modesty as a few classmates offered congratulations.

As I said, it was Henry’s success, and my twinge of envy, that made me suspect a rivalry. It was my own, later win that confirmed it. There must be a rivalry. Otherwise, why do I remember the day Henry won as so gray and the day I won as so sunny?

Then there’s The New York Times. As bona fide grouchy old men, we share the habit of submitting letters to the editor, and we’re both surprisingly successful at seeing them in print.

One difference is that I also submit letters to the Times Book Review. Henry doesn’t. I don’t even know if he reads it. His typical acknowledgement of my letters is, “Meredith [his wife] saw your letter in the Book Review.”

When he added, “But those don’t count as much as letters to the editor, do they?” my suspicion was confirmed: He was keeping score!

Henry had an item in the Metropolitan Diary column of the Sunday Times. I’m not jealous. Really, I’m not. Not a bit. After all, Henry has an apartment in New York, and I don’t. If the Times had a Rust Belt Diary column, I’d be a shoo-in.

How close is our Times race? One Thursday last August, the Times published my letter to the editor. I was still accepting congratulations when the following Saturday’s Times featured a letter from — you guessed it — Henry! True to our individual styles, Henry’s was serious, mine was snarky.

The rivalry has even spilled over to this publication. I tried not to care about Henry’s two online pieces. But how could I ignore his Big Three bonfire essay in the September print issue, illustrated in living color? I couldn’t rest until I saw my own essay in print.

I have every confidence that once he sees this essay, Henry will respond with another of his own. Watch this space.