THE following sketch of the one time Wooden Spoon was prepared for "The Bachelor of Arts." That periodical having suspended publication before the accepted sketch could be printed in its pages, a distinguished Yale graduate, much interested in the subject, earnestly suggested that the article—perhaps with some additions—appear by itself as a record, in convenient form of a once noted class institution peculiar to Yale in this country; in its best days, more widely talked of than any class institution or custom in vogue at an American College. This gentleman offered to be one in a small group of Yale men to provide for the publication of the little monograph herewith presented as a result of this co-operation promptly and gladly given.

It is believed that but little of marked importance is lacking in the earlier history of the Spoon furnished; it was gleaned from graduates of different years of that earlier period, from old "Yale Lits," and from "Four Years at Yale," (1871).

The One-Time Wooden Spoon At Yale.

This monograph aims to fairly portray from the writer's personal knowledge a prominent and unique College custom in its palmy days, and to sketch, as a result of some research, its origin, rise and downfall.

Various presentations, tradition says, took place in the time of the old commons; a jack-knife was given to the homeliest, a cane to the handsomest; a *wooden spoon* to the one who ate the most, etc. Yet the idea of the Spoon Presentation in its later form seems to have been wholly independent of this tradition. It was started at Yale by Henry T. Blake, of '48, and was a prominent feature at an entertainment burlesquing Junior Exhibition. Mr. Blake, however, evidently derived the suggestion of awarding a wooden spoon to the lowest colloquy man from the practice prevailing at Cambridge University, England, of nicknaming the Junior Optime, or last man on the honor list, "the Wooden Spoon." The significance of the nickname appears in the reiterated "stale and perennial re-

5

mark" of the *hoi polloi* at Cambridge that "Wranglers are born, with Gold Spoons in their mouths, Senior Optimes with Silver, Junior Optimes with *Wooden* and the *hoi polloi* with leaden ones."

The earliest Spoon Presentation was held "secretly—for fear of the faculty"—in the Masonic Temple, still standing at the corner of Court and Orange Streets. Doorkeepers, made up as Indians to avoid recognition, allowed none to enter except those wanted. Within the hall when the due time arrived, the President, a non-appointment man, seated on the stage with "his associate professors," arose and called the audience to order with "Silentiam (in place of *musicam*) audeamus," afterwards addressing the band with "*Musica Cantetur.*" On the program came a Latin (comic) Salutatory, burlesque orations, dissertations, poems, disputes and colloquies; the presiding officer himself making the speech of presentation, responded to, of course, by the recipient of the spoon. During the evening, personal hits at the faculty and Junior Exhibition speakers were numerous. "The College Glee Club furnished music," and "high appointment

6

men, not members of the Committee, took part in the exercises.” For the Committee (Cochle laureati) at first was mostly made up from non-appointment men, who were themselves called “Cochle laureati.” For two years only, 1847 and 1849, these exhibitions were held in the Temple, “no spoons being presented in 1848 and 1850.”

As there had been some things not commendable in these first two exhibitions, it was decided to reform the exhibition wherein needed, admitting by special invitation the faculty and ladies. A writer, in the Yale “Lit,” refers somewhat proudly to the audience gathered at the next entertainment, in 1851, at the new public amusement place of the city. “Brewster’s Hall, long before the appointed hour, was filled by those sharing in the limited number of tickets issued; among them, by special invitation, members of the College faculty, many from their families, some three hundred ladies from in and out of town, while the Academic Students generally, their friends in the Theological and Law Schools and a few prominent citizens filled up the audience.” There is a glowing description of the Spoon: “At the appointed hour, there was

7

placed upon the stand before the Chairman's seat in face
of the assembly, the wonder of the night, the center of
attraction, the famous wooden spoon; a noble spoon of
the best black walnut—near three feet long and finely
carved, with a grape vine, entwined about its handle and
a tempting bunch of grapes, etc.” “Upon the reverse
was the celebrated Motto * * * ‘Dum vivimus Vi-
vamus,’ and in a silver plate was cut the name of him who
was to bear the trophy, Henry C. Blakesley of the class of
’52.” It is, perhaps, worth noting, that the lowest man
on the Junior appointment list having in this instance
declined the spoon, the Colloquy appointees made a choice
from their own number.

The exhibition of 1851 was of much importance in the
history of the Spoon, being the first one on the long list
of twenty public entertainments; fairly inaugurating the
Spoon as a prominent class institution at Yale. In this same
year, 1851, the little gold badges of the committee appeared
and the program first bore the steel plate emblem of the
Cochs, "Insigne Cochleaureatorum," a decidedly artistic
device, an illustration of which is here given:

8

The humorous exaggeration above the higher Junior
exhibition honors of the lowest colloquy appointment is
pictorially shown in the upper right-hand quarter of the
device, where a "high-stand" man is outweighed by a
Spoon, and also in the lower left-hand quarter, where
the same supposed unfortunate emerges from the small
end of a horn. Opposite, the well-known Phi Beta Kappa
 badge is seen *bottom side up*. The humor in these repre-
sentations lost its point after the foundation idea of the
Spoon underwent a total change. Yet the original design
continued to adorn the programs of future exhibitions,
and, on occasion, lithographed in colors, formed the title
page of the "Wooden Spoon Lanciers."

In reading an account of a certain "colloquy" at one of
these earlier exhibitions, more than one Yale graduate
will be reminded of his first, and somewhat turbulent
entrance into New Haven. In "The Gobblers Gobbled"
depicted on the stage, two ardent electioneerers for their
respective societies button-hole and ply, a wondering
"sub-fresh" with alluring statistics, and various honied
arguments, at times fiercely interrupting each other, until

11

the bewildered youth finally “pledges” to one of the champions, whose victory, however, proves to be fleeting, as the “candidate” fails to get into college.

The “March by the Tibicine Band,” opening the exhibition in ’51, was one of those “sells” that formed a feature of subsequent entertainments; the Tibicines, with silent instruments over their left shoulders, *marching* to the sole accompaniment of a big bass drum through the hall to their places on the stage.

The Spoon exhibition was held in Brewster’s Hall till 1861, when the entertainment was transferred to the new very spacious “Music Hall” on Crown Street. Occurring in the Brewster’s Hall decade of the Spoon’s history, there is briefly noted here the formation of “The Society of the Cochleaureati” in 1854, the adoption of the Coch’s Wooden Spoons in 1856, and the first use of the “opening load”— though not in its later form—in ’57. More will be said of these matters elsewhere.

In the latter part of this decade, a most significant change relating to the Spoon took place, viz.: the change to its bestowal on “the most popular man in the Junior

12

Class.” After making considerable effort to determine the exact year of the change, the writer is uncertain whether it occurred in the class of ’57 or of ’58, and he doubts whether the transition at first was complete to the comprehensive ground for awarding the Spoon during its last decade. It is clear that in the class of ’56, it was still given to the lowest colloquy man, that in the class of ’58, it was not given to the lowest nor to any colloquy appointee, but to a very popular man whose stand was below the appointment list. A gentleman of high position in this city, writing of the selection of his classmate as ’58’s Spoon recipient, says: “I do not think he could have been chosen if he had been a high honor man, and infer our choice was limited to one who was popular and at the same time had not a high stand.”

Whether or not members of ’59 and ’60 much regarded this limitation in awarding the Spoon, ’61 certainly bestowed it on the most popular man in the Junior Class, without reference to his standing in scholarship. This was the later ground.

A glance now at changes affecting the Spoon Committee

13

that had in charge the yearly exhibition and whose
members were called cochle laureati (from cochlear and
aureatus), commonly abbreviated to "cochs." At first, as
already stated, the cochs were mostly chosen from non-
appointment men; then, all but high-appointment men
were eligible for election; later, scholarship was not seri-
ously considered, and the nine most popular men of the
Junior class were chosen. As to mode of selecting the
"cochs;" in the Spoon's earlier history, the Yale "Lit"
editors appointed "a responsible Junior to call a meeting
of his class for election of a Spoon Committee of nine
members—three from each division." Later, the nine
were chosen from the class at large. In 1854, the Spoon
Committee became "The Society of the Cochleaureati," a
genuine secret society, and for half a dozen years its
members elected eight successors, these each year select-
ing the ninth man. The eight of '61, however, having
chosen two men—making ten Cochs in all—60's Com-
mittee referred the matter to the Junior class members,
who elected the same ten men. At the request of '61's
Coch Society, the class of '62 chose the Committee, but,

14

trouble ensuing, finally the exhibition managers, eleven,
that year, were appointed by the Society of '61. In 1862,
the Junior class elected their Cochs at a meeting called
and presided over by the Spoon-man of the year before; a
practice kept up ever afterwards. The nine Committee-
men, it should be noted, were now chosen on the same
broad ground as was the Spoon-man.

The foregoing sketch of the Spoon has brought down
its history into the first of the four years when the writer
was a student at Yale.

What constituted in this period, "the most popular
man of his class?" He was the thoroughly "good fellow"
and true gentleman combined, with some talent, some
ability above the ordinary that gave him added attractive-
ness. This description, it is believed, will fitly apply to
the Spoon-man of '63, '64, '65 and '66 respectively. The
first—later chosen class poet—had marked literary talent
that subsequently found a fitting field in the career of an
accomplished professor of English Literature, and, inci-
dentally, of author. '64's Spoon-man was a good speaker
and pleasing writer—elected a Yale "Lit" editor—though

15

the implied accomplishments seem to have been largely
laid aside afterwards in the pursuit of a very prominent
business career in New York City. The Spoon-man of '65
had a reserved rich humor, that, undimmed by the cares
of life, still glowed with old-time radiance when the law-
yer had turned globe-trotter. The last had a remark-
able all-around good judgment, that doubtless afterwards
contributed in part to his promotion to the Supreme
Court Bench, and to his nomination, several years since,
for Chief Judge of the highest Court of New York State.
Was not the then prevailing ideal of a Spoon-man high
and worthy? Was it strange that the "Ligneum Cochlear"
was regarded by many as the highest elective honor of
College?

As the Spoon, with all its accessories is dead, never to
rise again, and as the secrets of "The Society of the
Cochle laureati" were wholesome ones, and moreover, have
now been "out" for many years—though as sometimes
met with not free from inaccuracies—there can be no
objection to a correct record of them here. The nine men
chosen by the Junior class were initiated by the last year's

16

Committee; the initiation taking place at evening in the dining room of a prominent New Haven hotel or at the noted Savin Rock hostelry, and its largest feature was— to quote from the printed menu ornamented with a pictured spoon—the "Supper for Eighteen." There was a jolly social time, spirited singing of the Coch's adopted song, that touching little story of the "Springfield Mountains" youth, jokes and sundry information about the "Coch meetings," etc., etc. Before the affair was over, any Society documents in possession of the old became the temporary property of the new Committee. Small gold spoons, near an inch and a half long, generally worn on the vest lapel, were the badge of initiation into and membership of the Society; the old Committee retaining, but no longer wearing theirs.

As soon as practicable, each newly initiated "Coch" provided himself with a carved black walnut spoon, oil-finished, about three and a half feet long, bearing his initials cut in relief on the handle; this spoon was hung conspicuously in his room, and usually remained there during his stay in College. Occasionally these spoons were taken to

17

a "Coch meeting," when, upon an accidental intrusion by an outsider, each of the nine sprang to his feet, grasping a spoon, and gave the intruder a righteously indig-nant look, almost enough of itself to *bowl* him from the room.

The "Coch meetings" were held every week or two in the evening at different member's rooms in turn, their chief object being the preparation of the Annual Exhibi-tion. After the business of the evening, came a "spread," furnished by the "coch" in whose room we met; some-times a pretty modest, sometimes a rather elaborate affair, for a number of our Committee-men did not have long purses, and common sense ruled in the matter.

With what peculiar pleasure—in which with some a touch of romantic feeling mingled—nearby roomers, and, after the warm June evenings with open windows came, late strollers on the campus heard the Coch's adopted song ringing out as the midnight doxology for their meet-ing! And what mellow voices blended in the song;—that of Arthur Barrows, afterwards precentor many years at Dr. Hall's church, this city,—of versatile Harry Brown,

18

of great-hearted Tod Ford, and the unforgettable deep bass of jovial John Hicks, from "Woostah, Mass !"

At an early meeting a President of the Committee was chosen and from the nine the Spoon-man by ballot, the Cochs being guided in the choice of the latter by the sentiment of the class. The distribution of the respective "parts" for the coming Presentation constituted the chief, and at times, burdensome secret of the Society. Who was to have this? Who, that? the pumpers wanted to know.

Usually, at the opening of the Summer term, the various "productions," assigned before, were handed in, subject to the Committee's approval. There were some business details regarding the Exhibition yet to be attended to, and, when the parts were learned, places to be designated for rehearsal. The dramatic effusions were generally rehearsed in "Linonia Hall," single pieces there, or in some other suitable place. As the time for the presentation drew near, the unoffending woods of Westville echoed the attempted eloquence of at least two Committee-spouters.

19

But the writer recalls no "discipline" of that prepara-
tory period equal to the perplexing and prolonged cogita-
tions over the "opening load." Day succeeded day with
two young Committee-men (one, the Spoon-man), in their
after-supper rambles vainly trying to "get it." The diffi-
culty was, with the changes already rung, to find a new
load, capable of the needed terse statement. Finally,
there was great joy over "The Inbred Gentleman." A
number of big four-sided loaves of bread should be piled
on each other—not showing the "matching" to the
audience—and in the hollowed-out interior of this giant,
composite loaf, with a liberal breathing-hole at the back,
should crouch the Spoon-man, to be dug out by his eight
confrères. But no baker's oven with a mouth large
enough to admit one of the loaves could be found in New
Haven. Sorrowful fact! Joy, however, returned when
some one's suggestion was found practicable of a big basin-
shaped wire frame covered with pasteboard, painted by a
scenic artist, the whole affair very well representing a
huge "basin loaf." Of course, breathing facilities for
the temporary occupant were not overlooked.

20

Regarding the choice of Spoon Committee-men, the aim in those days to have enough of them specially suited for exhibition work to secure a genuinely successful entertainment may have sometimes excluded from a cochship nomination a man, perhaps have excluded from nominations several men, *just as popular* as those who with the added qualification were chosen for the places.

A certain phase of college life seems worth considering here in its relation to the spoon. Athletics, in any form, until the Summer of '65 (or possibly of '64), though by no means neglected at Yale, had never aroused the strong and continuing general interest of later years. During a good part of the four years we are especially speaking of, there was one important restriction on boat-racing passed by the Yale Corporation in 1860, under which Yale and Harvard did not meet to row. " There was an interval of four years before the University races were inaugurated." With Yale, triumphant in the first of these, her interest in aquatics greatly grew; with her victory in '65 that interest became "strong" and "general," and has so continued. Some funny things, by

21

the way, had been truthfully alleged of the "Yale
Navy." Though, of course, it included the good boating
men, a very popular fellow, who it is believed, never sat
in a boat while in college, was elected "First Captain of
the Fleet," while Glyuna's and Varuna's ample club lists
contained more than a sprinkling of incorrigible young
land-lubbers. Foot-ball, with its old style games on the
State-House Green, was a thing of the past; base-ball yet
to become a leading college sport in the fall of '65 when
the first university nine was organized. Briefly, the class
of '65 left Yale at about the dawn of modern college ath-
letics. Some probably had construed the noted university
struggle in '64 as a sign of its approach.

The Spoon Exhibition, like the coming athletics, fur-
nished the several classes a common, broad college inter-
est outside the curriculum, and it was very attractive to
many non-collegiates, though not to as many as have
been the great inter-collegiate contests of later years.
The evening's program offered the large invited audience
much pleasing entertainment. Music was plentiful. The
idea of wit and humor pervading the early burlesques on

22

Junior Exhibition still dominated most of the spoken "parts," with the old-time personal "hits" largely replaced by other wit, much of it intelligible to "outsiders" present. No trace of coarseness was allowed. The main idea of the two "addresses" had a decidedly popular interest.

But to the Exhibition in more detail. It was held in June, the Tuesday evening before "Presentation Day." The "Cochs'" steel-engraved invitations each year were noticeable for the fanciful sketch at the top, adroitly introducing the Cochlear and class number; on '64's invitations were engraved nine Cupids, each armed with a spoon in a merry chase on a cloud; the device of '66 (whose spoon-man was a well-known oar) represented dolphins drawing a beautiful shell which the occupant steered with a spoon. The sketch of the invitations reappeared on the admission tickets, of one color for ladies and another for gentlemen. From the outside of the evening's program the "Insigne Cochleaureatorum" with its mottoes boldly confronted one.

The audience at the Exhibition—in the period under notice—"was the largest and most brilliant that assembled

23

in New Haven,” crowding Music Hall estimated to hold twenty-five hundred or three thousand persons. Many had unsuccessfully applied for invitations. The strong force of students present probably did not exceed, if it equaled, eight hundred, including those from the professional schools; scattered members of the Faculty, prominent citizens, local society and fashion leaders were in the audience; a goodly number of well-educated people no longer young yet fond of merriment, and a representation of students’ young-men friends from outside the college. But the marked feature of the audience—giving it briliancy—was the large number of young ladies. Most of these acknowledged a greater or less interest in some Yale student or in that article variously multiplied. Many the evening before had graced the promenade concert, under management of the Spoon Committee. This attractive feminine array—conversant with many features of student life—by no means came from New Haven alone; New York, Brooklyn, Hartford and other places combined to largely contribute.

The program included the “Opening Load,” Latin Sal-

24

utatory, a "High" and a "Philosophical Oration," several
"Colloquies" and the Presentation and Reception Ad-
dresses, with plentiful music throughout.

The instrumental music was furnished by the famous
7th or 22nd Regiment Band of New York, whose five or
six selections naturally varied between those suited
to the sentiment or mirth of the evening, for the
exhibition was a combination of both. The College Glee
Club sang from the stage the two or three songs written
for the occasion, the Latin "adapted" song and the closing
"Gaudeamus." The original songs were generally of a
sentimental character. They chiefly chanted the glories
of the Spoon, with its symbolic meaning. They extolled
its hero. As a Class, these songs possessed marked
poetic merit. A verse of one from '64's program is given
here:

"Sweet as tolls the silver-voiced vesper,
Bright as burned the imprisoned fires of Hesper,
Gleam the jewels on our Wooden Spoon.
Honor, friendship, truth and high endeavor
Twine the heart-flowers in one gay festoon,
And wreathe, Oh wreathe! Oh wreathe
With memory's garlands that shall bloom forever,
Wreathe the glorious Wooden Spoon!"

25

Of the two "addresses of sentiment" the Reception Speech was naturally a modest, appreciative recognition of the honor bestowed. The Presentation Address was a longer, and, oratorically, more ambitious effort, delivered by a pleasing and forceful speaker. Of these addresses, none probably was more apt and eloquent than the one at '63's exhibition in which L. T. Chamberlain, future winner of the Deforest Medal and class valedictorian, voiced his appreciation of the refined good-fellowship symbolized by the Spoon.

The trophy presented in those days, like that given in '51, had elaborately carved ornamentation, varying somewhat in detail in different years. A silver plate was set in the handle of each spoon, recording its presentation, with the date, the name of recipient and of the class conferring the honor. Each spoon had a handsome case, lined with velvet or plush. The trophy itself was either of black walnut or rosewood, and there was some variation in the length of the spoons. That given by '66 was of black walnut and about thirty-two inches long, while '65's—of rosewood—was somewhat shorter. In the accompany-

26

ing illustration of the Spoon given to Charles F. Brown by
'66, on the shield-shaped plate near the end of the handle
was cut the "Insigne Cochleaureatorum."

Coming now to the "Opening Load" of the humorous
exercises—"load" in student parlance then meaning a
joke or pun, as in '65's "*Inbred* Gentleman"—the big drop-
curtain went up, disclosing on the stage a huge bread loaf
or other conspicuous device. Presently, eight "Cochs,"
arrayed in dress suits appeared, and with their walnut
spoons released from the device their confrere, looking
joyous, now the indisputable Spoon-man, though generally,
long before, this result had been forseen, because of a
manifest class sentiment determining the Committee's
choice. In '63's "opening load," "The Bursting Shell," the
Spoon "Coch" was liberated from an immense egg as the
chief "Coch" of another Committee having "The Peacock"
for its "load," was shelled out of a giant peapod; jovial and
unconventional ways of introducing the hero of the night!

The "Latin (really English-Latin) Salutatory" aimed
to put the greeted audience in a thoroughly merry mood
by such a use of the subordinated Latin in the bi-lingual

29

effort as would heighten, with a large part of the listeners,
the effect of the numerous "hits" in the address; while
the auditors, unfamiliar with Latin, would be amused by
the odd-sounding combination and probably comprehend
some of the "hits"—mainly, by the way, impersonal.
The aim, with the speech spiritedly delivered, as it usually
was, happily succeeded.

The "High Oration" was not an oration at all, but a
"Sell." Thus, in "The Martyrs of the Revolution," the
audience saw on the stage the *revolution* of the wheel used
for drafting at the Provost Marshal's office. The *Martyrs*
were the unlucky ones whose names were drawn; the
names announced to the audience belonging severally to
a prominent tutor and sundry students, already actually
drafted in New Haven.

"The Subtaneous Cuncussion of Particles Calorigenous," and "The Tesselated Peculiarities of Sublumary Particles" illustrate the subjects of the Philosophical Ora-tions; the orator, with a learned and earnest air, develop-ing the subject in a style, corresponding with the pecu-liarly elaborated title.

30

The interspersed "colloquies," usually three in number, treated humorously some phase of College life, or travestied some classical theme; more often in the latter case, burlesquing a Greek play already read in the class room. 64's Committee presented an amusing "Perversion of Alcestes of Euripides," with its prominent character, "Mein Herr Kules, a German Deity;" that of '66 gave its excellent "Tragedy of Electra." The burlesque on Virginius ("Virginia"), with its doughty "Rum-uns," etc., offered at '65's exhibition, was, it is fair to say, but little inferior to John Brougham's then popular travesty. It revealed a marked literary felicity, a characteristic afterwards of the various lectures, addresses and poems of genial, gifted Harry Armitt Brown, whose death in '76, soon after the noted Valley Forge oration, is yet so widely lamented. In the colloquies portraying College life were treated such topics as "Letters Home," "Forensic Disputations" and "Freshman Prize Debate." Sometimes one of the so-billed colloquies turned out to be a "sell," like the High Oration.

The average merit of the productions of the four suc-

31

Class of 1863, G. C. S. SOUTHWORTH.

“ 1864, M. C. D. BOKDEN.

“ 1865, GEORGE TOD FORD.

“ 1866, CHARLES F. BROWN.

“ 1867, JAMES MONROE ALLEN.

“ 1868, COBURN D. BERRY.

“ 1869, JOHN C. ENO.

“ 1870, HENRY AUGUSTUS CLEVELAND.

“ 1871, ROBERT B. LEA.

Even a brief history of the Spoon would be very in-
complete without at least an outline of its relation to
“College politics.” In some years a “coalition” was
formed between the three Junior societies, or between
two of them and the neutrals, to secure a division between
the coalescing parties of the year’s honors—the “Coch-
ships” and Yale “Lit” Editorships. In his day, so far as
the writer could judge, the societies expressed in nomi-
nations their careful, deliberate choice. Plotting or elec-
tioneering for the honor by a society member would have
much impaired the chances of, probably have prevented

33

his nomination to a Cochship. The neutrals, too, naturally selected their best material for their allotment. Yet in the Spoon's history it has sometimes happened that a considerable minority in a class has shown marked dissatisfaction at the election, under a coalition, of one or two of the Committee-men. The compact, with its fixed distribution of honors, sometimes did not permit the choice of a widely popular man for perhaps one or two of the Cochships. These less popular nominees, however, were well liked in their societies, known there to be "good fellows," and very often possessed decided qualifications for Spoon-committee work. It is not believed that in the writer's day, any considerable feeling resulting from one of these fast-bound compacts lasted very long, yet many saw that they were likely at times to cause storms that would not grow milder, but otherwise, as time went on; that these coalitions menaced the Spoon's future.

The last exhibition was held in 1870. In that year, '71, at a coalition meeting including DKE, Psi U men and neutrals—the whole class except Alpha Delta Phi men—

34

chose the nine Cochs, but at a subsequent meeting
the coalition was repudiated by the parties who had
formed it, '70's Spoon-committee concurring in that
course, and all the Cochs chosen before except two,
were re-elected. But there had been much feeling
developed. That there was still lacking that large
bestowal of good will once awarded the Spoon as an insti-
tution is shown by the fact that comparatively little inter-
est was taken that year in the work of the exhibition.
The disaffection existing was more than that of certain
men over the defeat of their friends. It was a wider
spread feeling, after the battle was over, that the Spoon
(in its modern idea), founded on manly good-fellowship
and maintained in its better days by general good will,
had become in later years too often the occasion for un-
pleasant strife. Even in '69 everything had not been as
smooth as could be wished. The College community was
getting weary of these wrangles—these storms breaking
out at times—the last probably the fiercest of all.

There was a weakening of the institution in another
way. Of late the Cochships had come to be much regarded

35

in relation to the Senior year of their winners. A good
fellow, even if well fitted for taking part in a Spoon enter-
tainment, who already had some prize or honor, which it
was thought would commend, or help in commending him
to a Senior society's consideration, was not generally put
on the Committee. In other words, more of the Cochs
than formerly were chosen for popularity alone uncom-
bined with any marked ability to aid in furnishing an in-
teresting exhibition. Yet the longer the Spoon Enter-
tainments were kept up along the lines associated with its
past glories and successes, the greater the need for this
special ability in its managers. Getting a first-class new
"opening load," one of the most taking features of the
program, became more difficult each succeeding year. Of
the prominent phases of modern college life, those more
easily burlesqued had been travestied in recent years in
the hearing of many who would attend the coming
exhibition. To treat entertainingly appropriate modern
subjects hitherto unused required very considerable
skill.

A third great cause indirect and diverting in its opera-

36

tion—had in late years helped on the decadence of the
Spoon. Athletics, with their up-to-date appliances and
developments and stimulating victories, had grown to be
the most absorbing diversion in student life at Yale,
drawing away, in a measure, the interest in old class
customs.

Viewing, then, all the conditions cited, it was practic-
ally a foregone conclusion that '72 would vote—as it
did—to discontinue the Spoon. Its day was over; its time
had come to cease to exist.

It should be added that throughout the political storms
of its closing year, there was never any doubt as to whom
the Spoon should go. Its recipient was the genuine
choice of his class, as, the writer has no reason to doubt,
were all his predecessors the choice of their respective
classes.

In a retrospect now over the intervening years, nearly
every Yale man who knew the Spoon in its declining days
doubtless dwells in recollection far more on the jollity
than the defects of the later time. For many of us, whose
stay at Yale came earlier, fond memories of the merry

37

Spoon will long survive. To quote from a song of the palmy period:

"When old Time has marked us with a furrowed brow,
And our step is laggard and our locks are grey,
Dim our eyes and feeble grown our words and slow,
Bright will live the memory of this day.
Dear shall be its songs and mirth and pleasure,
Dear shall be each laughing jovial measure,
Dear the thoughts that cling round this treasure,
And the hero of the Wooden Spoon."

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