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:
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:
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.