Jesters and Majors
Both are at the Club bar swapping outrageous stories. No fact checks allowed.
Imagine if you received an invite for a black-tie dinner party addressed from a Major Joseph Swartz, Esq. If you’re a reader of this publication, your first question would probably be: will this be occurring at The Army Navy Club? Your second: is this some old fart who's going to bore me with details of an exaggerated military operation?
Joseph, to answer the latter, is never boring. Our years-long friendship, which began with me landscaping his yard for pocket money in high school, has been filled with laughter and adventure. Our most recent adventure was sharing part of a 2,500-mile road trip together with Sophia, a 1973 Buick Electra, that included spending a night at Duluth’s Kitchi Gammi Club and an unsuccessful attempt at geese hunting.
As to the former, there’s a strong chance that you would be asked to arrive at the Army Navy Club where Joey has been a member for over a decade. In this issue, he shares how a night at Cloud Nine, a now-closed gay bar in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, in the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” era led to his membership.
In the April Fools spirit, Ishaan Jajodia writes that clubs are for jesters, pranksters, and wisecracks. And as always, there’s Dispatches from Clubland and Ishaan brings it to you for this week. —LR
Please be sure to forward this Clubland issue, brought to subscribers by Double Dot Squash, with everyone who will love it. You’ll be our favorites if they subscribe here.
Clubs are for Jesters
By: Ishaan Jajodia
This April Fool’s Day, go to your club bartender and put your club jester’s first drink on your tab. Write him a thank you note on tissue paper borrowed from the bar because this is the least you can do for your club jester. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone, and what better an occasion to celebrate the joy of your clublife, the club jester, than April Fool’s?
To continue reading this article, please click here.
From Cloud Nine to Clubland
By: Joseph Swartz
My first visit to the Army and Navy Club was for brunch with LTC Henry Thomas IV, his partner Kevin, and a group of Virginia Military Institute cadets in 2008. The Club’s exclusivity tempered by the democratic tradition of military service made for love at first sight.
Hank and I had met that previous summer through Deuntay – a six-foot tall, Black man with zero percent body fat and a max bench press of 350 pounds – who I was enamored with on the dance floor at Cloud Nine Restaurant, a popular gay bar and dance club in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, where my family was vacationing.
Deuntay, a cadet at the Virginia Military Institute, was staying with Hank and Kevin for the weekend as many other gay and lesbian cadets had done during the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell era. Hank was among the founders of a Virginia Military Institute gay and lesbian alumni network that provided a safe space for then-closeted cadets enrolled at VMI.
To continue reading this article for free, please click here.
Dispatches from Clubland
Everyone has been a source of comic relief at some point in Clubland. Like a gentleman, I’ll roast myself to a solid medium-rare before diving into the transgressions of others.
While staying in Boston at the Union Club, I extended an invitation to a guest without mention of the dress code which prohibits anything besides dress shoes. The guest, a prominent scholar of Edmund Burke, arrived in sneakers without my notice before we settled at the bar.
Moments later, I was handed a card informing me of my role in the infraction which left me with the embarrassing task of telling said scholar that he must return in dress shoes. Thankfully, his hotel was just around the corner and generous libations ensued upon our return.
Then, there’s the usual sources of embarrassment. A friend wrote to me that after writing a Clubland article on where not to use your phone, I proceeded to push the boundaries of said rules … wantonly. There are pitfalls to being the purveyor of your news: I am, after all, a flawed club rat. Mea culpa, dare I say.
Many a club rat has found themselves in the proverbial doghouse upon returning home to their spouses and partners after nights of revelry. We should be thankful that many clubs have rooms to stay overnight: might as well have a modicum of comfort whilst in exile.
Michael Shane Neal, portrait artist extraordinaire and member of The Players and the National Arts Club, shared a glimpse of his life as a part-time resident of the National Arts Club. Neal recounts he had thrown his name into a hat for a chance to live in the Club’s storied apartments and take studio space housed in the former mansion of former New York governor Samuel J. Tilden. While his part-time residence is certainly posh, Neal was the only person who signed up for the raffle. It’s bad form to do this alone, however. You always rope in unsuspecting fellow members even if there’s no doubt that Neal deserves the accolade.
Club squash tournament season is upon us. We’d love to hear about your tournaments and how you’ve fared. Remember: the goal is to get out there and play—and then consume more calories in beer than you’ve burnt on court.
From the professional squash world, the Optasia Championship at the Wimbledon Club, England featured Juan Camilo Vargas, represented by Double Dot Squash, who played former world #13, Nicolas Mueller, of Switzerland, in the first round.
The result was a stunning victory for Vargas in five games, giving a much needed boost in his rankings. Vargas, however, succumbed the next day to Mostafa Asal, currently the top-ranked squash player in the world. We congratulate Vargas on his victory, and wish him the very best for this week’s Manchester Open, where Vargas receives a bye in the first round, and is now the eighth seed. Chin-chin! —IJ
Thank you for reading Clubland. Our next issue will be Tuesday, April 8 at 3pm.
