Class of 1919
The month has brought little in the way of news, which is quite as usual. We suppose a secretary who had all kinds of news coming in right along would find the job unexciting and entirely without spice. We find it more fun to make up the items, but about this time of year the old imagination loses its fire, and there we are.
One event did occur worthy of more than passing mention. C. O. Gale announces, as if it were a personal triumph, the birth of a son. He brags about his ability in rendering the Short Yell, and says he is having a pair of shin guards made for him and will have him out in the nets very soon now. When he gets so he can yell, "Take it away," and imitate a duck at the same time, young Paisley and J. C. Davis Jr. will come up and shoot pucks past him so fast he will remind everybody of his old man.
A week ago Sunday we were out for a neighborly game of bridge, and returning about 11:30 o'clock were informed by the maid that a man had called us from Washington and when told we were out had sworn softly for five minutes and hung up—name was McCrea. Later advices from Spider related how McCrea had eventually shown up in New York, where he had run afoul of some of our city boys. An attempt was made to do the visitor up brown, but it developed that some of the local talent folded up under the pressure, and that was that. Spider said that in the middle of each festivity McCrea would reach for a telephone to call up good old Jim. Later he would start talking of airplanes and Boston, but we never so much as heard from him. We presume he went on eventually to the Canners' Convention and more rowdyism and so back to the Coast.
Entirely dismayed at the lack of things to write about, we have decided to do something about it. We are going to Hanover for a few days and see if we can't get an inspiration. Maybe Cottie will have a new story about John Piane or John Poor. We'll check with Norton to see if all the banks holding 1919 funds are still open and solvent. McCarter no doubt has been doing something amusing. We'll take a few hops off the ski jump and write it up, just to remind all you boys who have been posing as ski experts how the story should be told. And we'll bring you a word of cheer from Jim Campion and Hugh Crowell.
Secretary, 87 State St., Framingham Center, Mass.
