I got to know Dick well during the summer before our senior year.  While most of the paint ended up on the dorm room walls, some inexplicably showed up on us, as well. It wasn't latex, either.

I also recall that from time to time, Dick would take some of us through a back path to his step-dad Eli Baldwin's house. We then slipped over to the Dairy-Dine for some forbidden treat.

He was a tall, strong, gentle, quiet and well-liked fellow.  He was tragically killed when the 356 Porsche Spyder, which he and John Macomb's were driving, slid off a curve, dove into a deep ditch, slammed into a culvert and brutally crushed his chest. Dick lasted a few days in a comatose state. I recall thinking as we classmates were sitting through his funeral that there was a time horizon for us all, and we had just crossed the line , thus beginning of the trip. 

Paul Ashton.