The sweet selected few
James B. Burke
One of Don McLean's interests while he and Martha lived in Summit New Jersey, was his membership in the Monday Night Club. This was an is a group of about twenty self-perpetuating Summit men who met on the last Monday evenings of October through May with a gap in December because of Christmas. The club was organized in 1882 and has never missed season during the intervening one hundred and four years. Because of its small numbers, the Club is not discussed publicly, so the general ignorance in the community as to his existence is comparable to the purity of ivory soap, 99.44%!
The members meet at their respective homes under a schedule prepared by the Secretary. Each evening includes a black tie dinner preceded by a cocktail hour of modest length. After dinner the members in attendance, generally sixteen or seventeen, assemble for the reading of the minutes. This item of business having been dispatched, the meeting proceeds to the raison d'ĂȘtre of the evening, the reading of his paper by the distinguished member on a subject of his choice - hopefully not over 30 minutes in length. Then, after a break for whistle-wetting the members reassembled for a short comment by each on the essayist’s efforts.
The wife of the host has the burden of planning and preparing the dinner. The husband selects the wines and is the gracious host, giving the impression that the dinner is no trouble at all - as it is not, in fact, for him. At the appointed hour, or, to be on the safe side, say thirty minutes earlier, the hard-working wife makes herself scarce for the evening. If she retired to her, or hopefully their, bedroom with the thought of putting herself to sleep with the TV, it must be turned down so low that she can hardly hear it in order that is not disturb distinguished company.
Equal opportunity of the sexes has never been a provision of the governing charter by-laws, or the traditions and practice of the club. The members have had and still have a secret smugness in their intellectual masculinity and could happily recite the jingle of Oliver Goldsmith:
“You are the sweet selected few,
Let all the rest be damned.
There's room enough in Hell for you,
We can’t have heaven crammed."
In fact, this would be more appropriate than the Pledge of Allegiance with which some meetings have been open. The writer’s late wife used to refer to the group as “precious as hell." But one cannot ignore over one hundred years of vital life. Lately in the nature of a "good conduct" medal, the club has established the custom of bang-up dinners in honor of the loved and perhaps unfairly burdened spouses, thus bringing them within the compass of Goldsmiths “sweet selected few.” It seems to help.
At one meeting, the wife of the house, wishing to hear the paper, put on a dressing gown and lay down on the second floor landing. She was so comfortable for the SAS so dull that she went sound asleep. Suddenly she became conscious that there was a guest on the stairs one step from the landing. It was evidently in need of what they now deceased Harvard Law school professor of real property called an"easement by necessity" Friends when he explained to the Cambridge police his post-subway delay at 1 AM in the Harvard Square.) With the instinctive understanding of a suddenly alerted a sleeping cat, She said: "down the hall, third door to the left," and went back to her sleep.
Donald McLean was an able and busy lawyer with far from parochial interests. The titles of his essays reflected his concern with worldwide problems, their possible solution, and the consequent improvement of society. His comments following the reading of other papers we're of uniform acumen and grace, with a good scattering of dry wit. One realized in the intimacy of the small group that here was a man and friend who would leave his mark for the betterment of all that he touched.
James B Burke is a former Secretary of the Monday Night Club of Summit. A graduate of Harvard Law school was a partner in a New York City law firm for over fifty years.
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