Los Angeles Club
Exiled Hanoverians in this barren West had one busy summer slapping the backs of the visiting firemen from the college on the hill. While our vice-president in charge of keeping-track-of-visitors has failed to bring in any statistics, the fact remains that our weekly luncheons were frequented by double and treble the usual gang. The biggest day in the history of the group was a Tuesday in early Olympictime, when one hundred twenty of God's finest gentlemen clustered together and feasted on food and the gay banter of many wits.
Bill Cunningham (here to ballyhoo the greater Boston boys, no doubt), gave us a quiet, whimsical talk about his adventure at dear old S. M. U. and proved again that he is a raconteur of the first water. Sorry, Bill, we didn't mean to mention water. Coach Harry Hillman talked about the Olympic games and revealed many intimate confidences about some of the Dartmouth athletes. Earl Thomson '20 hurdler and orator brought a trio of one-time national champion hurdlers, which included Simpson, Itelley, and Murray.
A large section of the track team sauntered in to see us, and numerous undergraduates, all of whom were welcomed vigorously. We of the West essayed entertainment for the boys, and what with this and that and these, we hope they enjoyed their stay. And if the lads of the Big Green who live near Hanover don't think we all got a thrill in seeing so many of our comrades out hyar—well, they are in error and we say tsk, tsk to them. The visitors, both in short speeches and in informal conversation, apprised us of the latest dirt, deeds, and changes in the scheme of things at Dartmouth.
Our numbers are increasing in these parts. Graduation, and good sense, are swelling our ranks, and more of the fine real timber for the College are setting out to learn the facts of life. We have at least six laddies mushing up to the north this fall—Murdock Coe, Charles Dickinson, Kenneth Lieber, Robert Morris Jr., George Peck, and Seymour Shulberg. We hope they behave themselves and will from time to time say a few words about California.
Seven of those who are, at last, safe (?) in the wide, wide world belong within the boundaries set out by the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce—Paul Cook, John Davidson, John V. Eliot Jr., Morgan Hobart, Howard R. Newcomb Jr., Louis M. Richard Jr., and Sidney Carl Wright. We claim two in the senior class—Keating Coffey and Robert G. Sands; three juniors, David E. Bradley Jr., Stewart D. Brown, and Dana S. Redington; and five sophomores, F. Johnson Glavis, R. E. Lauterbach, Rudolph Pacht, Lewis S. Peck, and Lawrence G. Sommer. Not bad!
Ray Bennett '13 is now smashing the gavel around with much gusto and considerable finesse. He is planning some football luncheons that will make history, so we expect to have a continuation of our forty- and fifty-plate gatherings, which is as it should be, for we live only once after all—and quite enough, too.
The Club made a brilliant step forward a short time ago when they petitioned the undersigned to get up a monthly magazine. It may be said in all modesty that this rag, if we may call it that, will do more than any other one thing to keep the meetings exactly as they always were.
We were all out cheering for Mai Metcalf '32 at the Olympic games, and he certainly did a fine job of hurling, with that mob of mugs staring at him. Most of us would have dropped dead from sheer agitation. Mai, we are happy to say, has seen the light and will put up his pup tent here at Earth's End.
Warner Bentley of the faculty was in a couple of times and told us what was what in dramatics at Dartmouth. Warner had on a new suit. Pretty nice, Warner!
We send you, by these presents, a further invitation to come on out and have lunch some time. Any Tuesday, at the University Club . . . there are no real estate salesmen in the outfit.
Assistant Secretary.
