Circling the Square

In the bowels of the Harvard Union, where the clattering of plates and the jangling of silver can be heard but faintly, the addicts of the ivory ball gather round the Green Table, follow the clicking white cue-ball in its geometrical course. There, in the cozy twilight, they howl and argue and relax. When their backs cluster too thickly around the play, they turn and shout for help. They cry for the arbiter of this musky underworld, and from behind the counter a grey old man, watching with cold, steel-blue eyes, rises slowly and shows the boys. And once old Ben shows the boys, he may be seen casually running off five hundred at straight rail.

Ben knows his business. He has sat at his counter for more than twenty years, watching many generations of Harvard men come and go. And he has seen palmier days. Once he had some claim to celebrity. Then the Hub, down in Boston, was his stamping ground, and he played in all the local tournaments. For one reason or another he never did go into the nationals, yet he has squared off with the best of them in exhibition matches. Hoppe, Schaeffer, and Adijohn--he recalls them all, when "they were pretty good, but still had a lot to learn."

In that, Ben's played quite a lot of exhibition billiards in his time. He used to sort of tour New England; and many an exclusive club, the Somerset and the Tennis and Racquets among them, claimed him as an instructor.

Things changed with the War. And people no longer jammed a smoke-filled room to watch the balk-line wizards. So Ben came to Harvard.

He'll tell you, if you ask, that he likes it here. Considering the amount of time the boys have to spend on studies, pool and billiards are a lot more popular in the Union than they are outside. Billiards, of course, is the nicer game. The shots are much cleaner, and it doesn't have that back-room atmosphere.

Ben thinks that the idea back of a pool and a billiard room is pretty sound. Naturally studies and exams come first, but with a little application any fellow should be able to loosen up his wrist and hit a dead-center ball. Besides, it's good relaxation.

Things are coming back, too. Why, just look at the publicity given to the recent triumphs of Willie Hoppe, whom Ben considers the greatest all-around player. The trouble is people misunderstand the game. It's all a matter of getting the fundamentals.

Yes, he guesses he has started a good many off on the right foot. And he likes the idea. He's still pretty spry, you know.