St Ignatius College - Ignatian Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

Page 9 text:

CONTENTS QT! Fight 'em Harvard QStoryD The Dreamer CVersej - Parent or State? The Mirror CVerseD - The Derelict CVerseD - Sunset CVerseJ - - Rough Weather CVerseD - - George Washington and Patriotism - Easy Money CStoryD - - - The Babe CVerseD Night Law School - - The Rose of Don Pablo CVerseD Dick Rights His W1'0Dg QSt0ryj A Pledge CVerseD - - Editorial - - In Memoriam Alumni - - Law School Notes University Notes Athletics - - High School Notes High School Athletics

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Fight 'Em Harvard Edzrfzrcl D. Kcil, '25 AD you happened to stroll into the llniversity t'lub of New York one bright morning in early spring, you could not but have noticed a tall, strong, impec- cably tailored and exquisitely groomed young man engaged in the arduous occupation of blowing great. gusts of heavy Turkish tobacco smoke towards the massive ceiling, for he was the only occupant of the room. The gentleman is J. Bentley Partmour, of New York and Tuxedo. J. Bentley's great- great grand-daddy happened to visit. America long before Pro- hibition was thought of and, with the aid of a few bottles of poor rum possessed himself of enough property on old Man- hattan lsland to keep his descendents, J. Bentley among the number. from starving, and to leave a comfortable sum over for jumps to Deauville, Miami, and Coronado. Outside of these annual excursions, J. Bentley's life was taken up in buying and wearing clothes and experimenting in various brands of Oriental tobacco. But J. Bentley, like all men, great or small, who view the ahairs of this vale of tears with too much complacency, was destined to be Fatels little play-toy, precisely at the time that he was basking in its sweetest smile. ldly he gazed out into the teeming street. He watched the tlitting forms of stenographers as they hurried Eilong-If and the little, bent men, with washed-out complexions-clerks. Partmour guessed they were-and thanking God that he, J. Bentley, was not one of them, with a feeling of infinite su- periority he reclined in his chair and sent. a long, languorous trail of smoke ceilingward. Hello, Partmour-glad to see you I Partmour slightly turned his head, a little petulant at having his restful self-congratulations so rudely disturbed.