After our prolonged vacation, we again break out the cobwebbed pen and dip it in the inks of time. So much has happened that we could almost write a history on the subject of Kelvin "Kewpie" O'Donnell alone. For instance, Kirby G. (for Gerkin) Pickle spent his last confederate dollar taking a gal home in a taxi, Napoleon "Tommy" Thomas received a picture from a Texas belle (pronounced "bell") who calls herself "the body." The Count be Wright learned how to swim (dog paddle), Rudy Trummer had a date, S.C. won the Rose Bowl.
Our nomination for the Hit Parade this week goes to the I J. Fox Coat song-- ah, true melody is displayed in this little ditty. Our hope of the week is for no morning exercises--wishful thinking.
Almost ancient now is the proposal to keep a juke box in Cowie. A spot survey showed a 100 percent willingness to "chip in" in order to keep Cowie filled with the strains of swing that greeted us on that one day. Wish someone could start the ball rolling. . . hint.
The weather is not all that is bitter in Boston. A case of mistaken identity found a well-placed blow thrust at the chin of innocent by-stander Ron Holain, and Ohio's own is nursing a morning after chin. "Next time I'll pick a fight," quock our hero as he regained his feet. The oldest man in the world, M. C. Smith, originally dubbed "Smitty" by his 69-year-old brother, had a joyous ranchy (spelled "rancid") week end in the company of many Chase Hall stalwarts including Dave Staff and Milcap's one man gang, Bill Stark. It was diminutive Staff, incidentally, who put his five foot, three inch frame in roommate James E. Smith's six foot, four inch coat over the never-to-be-forgotten, Christmas leave. Anybody want to buy a home in California