History: a study of the club archives

“A personal recollection from Peter Harzem”

Good history is a collection of personal memories. One interesting aspect of looking at the history of our club is in seeing the changes that have occurred in the practices and activities of our meetings since our foundation. By way of example I mention just one practice that is now—mercifully—extinct. At the time I joined our club in 1986, at each meeting we sang a song. We were accompanied on the piano by a member, although it was never clear who accompanied whom if anyone did, and we excelled at singing in rather scary discord. But we enjoyed it because just for a moment or two we let our proverbial hair down and heartily laughed at ourselves. But, let me hastily get off that subject in case someone gets in into his or her head to revive the custom.

The relatively recent period in history which I wish to recount is when H.C. Morgan, our—and everyone else’s—dear friend and I carried on a feud that lasted several weeks. H.C. was a past president of our club—in fact, it was he who inducted me to membership. Some years later H.C. chaired our attendance committee and decided to improve the club’s attendance record. To that end, he organized the membership into a number of groups, each with a leader whose duty it was to urge his members to attend meetings. The groups were to compete as to which will have the best at attendance over a number of months, and the leader of the winning group would receive a prize. Each week H.C. would show an overhead graph following the progress of the groups. The graphs were hand-drawn by H.C. with wobbly, heavy black lines. No one would consider them esthetically pleasing.

So, one day I raised my hand, stood up, and told a little (tall) tale. "A few years ago, when I was a university student," I said (at which groans, ho-ho’s were heard) "I was daringly ambitious. So I wrote a research paper and submitted it to one of the most prestigious scientific journals. My accompanying figures were just like the ones that H.C. shows us every week." There was a pause. Then with a sigh I added "they rejected it"’ There was a roar of laughter.

Next week H.C. came to the rostrum and showed an overhead. It was a page in Japanese. Somewhere in the middle there was my name. "This," he said, "‘is an example of the kind of papers he writes. No wonder they keep getting rejected"’ The following week I brought a crooked ruler and presented it to H.C. to aid his graphs. This sort of exchange went on for a while and then our past member, Pete Pepinsky, got into the act. As it happened my group had won the attendance competition—due, I must admit, to no special effort on my part—and had been presented (by H.C. no less!) a token for dinner for two at our conference hotel. Meanwhile Pete had discovered that my own attendance record left much to be desired and demanded that I return it. I found many reasons why that would not be right, and besides, I said, it would threaten my marriage since I had already arranged to take my wife to dinner.

Our club goes through periods of some merriment alternating with rather more somber periods. All this breaks what might otherwise become monotonous and adds to the enjoyment of our meetings. It gives one more reason to appreciate our club—certainly for me, and no doubt for others too.

We lost H.C. some years ago. He was a great friend. Just before his passing he had been planning a trip to Wales to research his roots, and since I knew Wales quite well I was to assist him. He did not make it. But the next time I was in Wales I had his name printed in Gothic letters on a small piece of parchment, and I placed it in an ancient dovecot on the isle of Anglesey.

Report of the History Committee for November 2005