Here I had been trying all evening to “put on the dog” with Frank Chance of Cub fame next to me, Julian Eltinge, world renowned actor, to my right, Dick Ferris, best known privateer in the public eye in front of me, not to mention such luminaries as Bill Essick, Wade Killifer, Larry McGraw and Jack Milligan all around. Then there was “Shine” Scott doing the honors back of the “near” beer bar, and “Shine” is well known to every ball player on the Pacific Coast. Oh, by the way, I certainly cannot overlook the immortal Tod Sloan. Either I followed Tod or he followed me because it was my good fortune to drink Manhattans with him in the Sunset Inn at Tia Juana and near beer near here. Now, readers, to tell the truth, it’s quite trying to write about this wonderful party while the writer has a perfectly good Scotch highball on the desk beside him. (Here goes another “Happy Day.”) One must, as one says, review one’s bunk to see where one’s left off. Talk about Southern hospitality, well, give me the Coast. Anyway, I never made the speech. How could I after Eltinge had brought tears of joy to members of this famous gathering? Like the lowly backward shyster of pedigreed bull that I am, I failed to carry out the principles of my “deah” old friend Volstead. (This effort calls for one Scotch heeball.) So I walked upon the brewery stage. And when I made my bow I’ll tell you one thing which every ball player and umpire of Southern California will verify. The stein of near beer was clutched fondly in my sturdy right hand. It was a rotten speech—in fact, no speech at all. My Los Angeles physician had prescribed that I take “one tablespoonful in milk every hour.” The milkman and my watch both went hay-wire. But I had a good time—an elegant time and awakened next day with fond remembrances of the morning after the night before. * * * * * There are still a few rumbling in San Francisco regarding Arbuckle and his now famous party. The stories they tell are wonderful to listen to by way of teaching us farmers what strange means certain persons have devised to get a kick out of life. For instance, as my friend Barney Google would say, take this little “roomer”: Two of the numerous members of the party decided to entertain their guests—the party was “dragging” as it were. The form of entertainment provided so I am told, was the kind few of us number among our accomplishments. Somehow or other, we have never gotten over that old-fashioned idea that certain ceremonies listed in the regular catalog or otherwise, are not for an audience. Rather, they are for occasions dedicated solely to the gods and ourselves.