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Yale Club Silliness

Armavirumque chimes in with some sad news of the Yale Club, which has some of the greatest facilities of any private club in the City, conveniently located next to Grand Central. (Although this would’ve been more convenient in the days when long-distance trains ran into Grand Central).

Anyway, James Panero can do the talking:

One of the advantages of a Dartmouth degree is that you have the option of slumming it at the famous Yale Club of New York City (the same reciprocity goes, by the way, to graduates from the University of Virginia, and others). The Yale Club prides itself on operating one of the largest private clubhouses in the world. Its 22-storey building, a New York landmark, was designed by James Gamble Rogers and completed in 1914. A bit of color: close readers of Scott Fitzgerald will remember that the old Yalie Nick Carraway begins his tale of Gatsby in the this club’s library.

Well, like Gatsby, the recent history of this Club has been tragic. Wedding parties, business meetings, and conferences now invade every nook of the clubhouse. Good luck finding a quiet afternoon the library. The Grill Room has recently been stripped of its smoky, hunting-lodge feel. And now, in the past two weeks, an even graver injury has befallen the clubhouse. In order to make the second-floor lounge more convertible to conferences and weddings, the old lounge furniture, long newspaper table, and rugs have been replaced with seconds from a Holiday Inn–with lighting by way of Versace. And what of the castoffs? Sold at auction for pennies.

At Dartmouth, there is an expression, not often heeded, but nonetheless forcefully expressed: “lest the old traditions fail.”

Listen up, Eli. Case in point, an email I received from a friend today:

I ended my membership at the Yale Club after they hired a decorator to schlock up the beautiful James Gamble Rogers rooms, so I am now clubless. I may join the Columbia Club just to have a bathroom in midtown.

When your clubhouse no longer makes for a suitable privy, you know things are bad.

I seem to recall that St Andrews grads are allowed to join the Yale Club, thus I mourn for its partial deterioration. Nonetheless, presumably the Club isn’t run from the top-down but accountable to its members. They need to start a reactionary front to seize the reins of power.

Perhaps there ought to be a St Andrews University Club. Small and comfortable, owing to the comparitive scarcity of St Andreans in the metropolitan area. A library modeled on the King James Library, a dining hall modeled on Parliament Hall, a ballroom based on Younger Hall, and of course a smaller version of St Salvator’s Chapel (clubs ought to have chapels, after all). And rather than stick it in the Clubland of the 40’s, why not Fifth Avenue on the Park, or maybe Riverside Drive if we’re willing to brave the West Side. Bah, fantasy.

Published at 10:09 am on Sunday 7 November 2004. Categories: New York.
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