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THE LAMPS December<br />
it was decided to let the Committee of Convention meet, connive,<br />
add to their number and convene again. For weeks they met<br />
at luncheon—talking.<br />
They were not a Club; they had no exchequer. Their sole<br />
function as a Committee was to call the next meeting and make<br />
it good enough to be followed by another, until some day somebody<br />
might arise and move that "we have an election."<br />
Two monthly dinners were held, each with some sort of talkfest<br />
to discover a common ground. At one of these, after J.<br />
Humfrey Anger had played historically on a spinet, there was<br />
a debate on "What this club should be called."<br />
One of the earliest suggestions had been "Palms"—from the<br />
initial letters of the five arts. The Chairman argued for "Lamps."<br />
Grier contended for Arts and Letters. Carried with no minute to<br />
record it.<br />
In those days, C. W. Jefferys was Secretary. But the business<br />
was all of getting together; there were no accounts to pass<br />
and no archives to record except those which the Chairman<br />
jotted down on the backs of old envelopes from memory and<br />
afterwards transcribed for the old book of records now in a<br />
state of obsolescence in the Club Library—q.v.<br />
In the fall of 1908 the omnium gatherum happened again in<br />
McConkey's buffet to dine and to hear W. A. Langton talk on<br />
Gothic. John A. Ewan, genial jibist of The Globe, and J. T.<br />
Clark, of The Star, argued on how to get room for a bed in a<br />
builder's bedroom. In November the itinerants held the first<br />
election in the bohemian precincts of McConkey's Palm Room.<br />
W. A. Langton was elected President; E. Wyly Grier vice; the<br />
writer of this Secretary-Treasurer. For executive see the Club<br />
panels now in the office.<br />
At last ,we were a Club, with a name and a set of officials:<br />
as yet no bank account, no membership fees, no treasurer per<br />
se, no official minutes worth a dam, everything Homeric—and<br />
quite obviously no constitution. O tempora, O mores! Above<br />
all we had no—home, not even Langton's prophesied "garret."<br />
In January, 1909, eighty men sat at dinner in Grier's studio.<br />
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