The New York herald. [volume] (New York, N.Y.) 1920-1924, 1922-09-10
The Story of Chimmie Fadden

York Hotel was being wrecked bought a
truck load of solid wooden window shut
tiers with which he paneled the room:
from the warehouses of house wreckers
he bought artistic salvage from the
wrecked houses of Knickerbocker families,
and designed and had built wall benches
and dining tables. Presently we had
quaint, artistic and comfortable home.
Besides Gibson we had from Packs staff
Henry Leon Wilson, now novelist; Henry
C. Bunner. poet and essayist; Frank
Hutchins, artist, and r. K. Munkittrick.
poet; from THE SUN, George Mallon and
Albert Lee; and / recall among other early
members Paul Potter, then dramatizing
"Trilby;" Robert w. Chambers, novelist;
Alfred Quentin Collins, portrait painter,
and James L. Ford. literary and dramatic
critic.
For two or three years the club pros
pered The cocktail hour-msy one even
mention such thing now?-was interest
ing and no one more helped to make it so
than Poet Bunner. A child or the dumb
est citizen of Main Street could tell at a
glance that he was poet. An actor play
ing the part of poet made up to look
like Bunner would need no identifying line
on a program. But Burners enthusiasm
was-pugilism! John L. Sullivan, then in
the glory of his ring triumphs, always met
Bunner when he came to New York, and
Bunner, delicate in frame and features, his
poets eyes afiame with excitement would
walk up Broadway arm in arm with the
proud and mighty John L., discussing fine
points of footwork, blocking and knockout
blows We used to spell each other try
ing to make Bunner talk of the poets. He
would listen to our earnest efforts politely
and then tell us precisely what happened,
and why, at the previous nights principal
prize fight.
Silence Was Golden.
A lasting friendship made at that time
was with Mr.. Gibson, now art director of
the Cosmopolitan Magazine. He is tact
turn usually, though he talks we'll and wit
tily when he cares to. But our friendship
began, 1 think, when he discovered that,
while l can be garrulous with the garru-
lous, / know the luxury of silent compan-
ionship. One Saturday Gibson and
lunched together at the Cloister in agree
able silence until / suggested a great adj
ventura trip to Coney Island He
agreed by nod. and as we started off Jim
Ford exclaimed, There they go, the jolly
chatterboxesi Not a word to each other
until dinner time" / am not sure that
either of us spoke until we were dining at
Manhattan Beach. But 1t was an agree
able party.
| must return to the club Some idle
rich heard that it was an evenings relief
from boredom to dine at the Cloister and
through invitations from our few non-pro-
fessional members they came-and wrote
"F'inis" on the clubs walls There were
members who thought it a fine thing to
there were more members who, when this
infliction befell. began to walk a block or
two to the Brevoort House or around the
corner to Martins for dinner. An active
and urgent minority had its way, as is not
uncommonly the case. We were too far
down town, they urged; we should have a
bigger, better house in the Forties, more
convenient for lady diners. The move was
made. / never saw even the outside of
the new club house. as Mrs. Townsend and
/ were in Europe when the uptown move
took place, and upon our return, hearing
doleful tales of the triumph of the Philis-
tines we dined either at our hotel. the
Brevoort, or at Cherriere's, South Wash
ington Square. where rare old, crusty vim
ordinaire,' as Arthur McEwen named that
popular vintage, was but 40 cents a demi
and the sauce in which the snails We're