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THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON (1560-1582)
James Crichton was born in Scotland in 1560, son of Robert, the Lord Advocate of Scotland, and Elizabeth Stewart of the House of Beith. He received a B.A. at age 14 from St. Andrews and an M.A. one year later. He was slain in Mantua at the age of 22.
Aldus Manutius, the grandson of the Venetian printer, dedicated his edition of Cicero's Paradoxia to Crichton: "You have attained before your 21st year the knowledge of ten languages, of many dialects, of all sciences; and you have coupled the studies of swordsmanship, of jumping, of riding, and of all gymnastic exercises with such alertness of disposition, such humanity, mildness and easiness of temper that nothing could be more amiable or admirable."
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A HISTORY OF THE CRICHTON CLUB
1919-2000
As the Crichton Club prepares to enter the 21st Century it seems appropriate to look back once again at its beginning and the people who were instrumental in its formation.
Following World War I there was a great increase in travel to the United States by foreign celebrities, many of them on lecture tours. The Head Mistress of the Columbus School for Girls, Miss Grace Latimer Jones (later to become Mrs. Charles F. W. McClure) was one of the first to realize the benefits and pleasure the Columbus community could reap from hosting these interesting individuals. In May of 1919, Miss Jones attended a meeting of the Present Day Club at the home of Mrs. Hiram Bronson, at which time she discussed the possible need for a proper forum which would afford Columbusites an opportunity to meet and hear such visitors. The members of the Present Day Club enthusiastically endorsed this suggestion and voted to pursue the possibilities of such an organization.
The Present Day Club called upon the Monday Art Club and the Review Club to appoint three members each to discuss with three members of the Present Day Club the development of such a forum. Present Day was founded in 1896 with a membership of fifteen women who explored the leading questions of the day. The men's literary Review Club was founded one year later, in l897, followed by the formation by nineteen women of the Monday Art Club in l905.
According to the records in the archives of the Ohio Historical Association, the representatives of the three organizations met in November of 1919 and decided to form a lecture club "for the purpose of bringing to Columbus, and entertaining, distinguished men and women, particularly foreigners, whom the people of Columbus would probably not otherwise have the opportunity of seeing and meeting."
The organizers composed a list of possible members, sent out invitations, and requested a reply within a week. They hoped that possibly 200 people would seek membership. Within a few days 400 people had joined and the decision was made to limit the membership to 500. Due to the demand by relatives and friends, however, the club expanded to 600 and eventually 700 with a waiting list. The dues were to be $5.00 a year for four meetings with a lecture, reception, supper, and dancing to a live orchestra.
The name for the club was suggested by Mrs. Henry L. Gilbert, who thought the life of the Scotsman James Crichton (1560-1582) reflected the goals of this fledgling organization. The new members were informed by mail of the name that had been selected as well as the following explanation: "James Crichton, styled the Admirable Crichton, was a scholar and adventurer celebrated for his extraordinary accomplishments and attainments in the languages, arts and sciences."
Mrs. John Myers Taylor (daughter of Governor James Campbell) was elected the first president of the Board, Miss Grace Latimer Jones secretary, and Mr. Walter H. Martin treasurer. The organization was to be a lecture club but "the content of the lecture was not to be as important as the personality of the lecturer." The lecture was to be the excuse for a pleasant social gathering of friends and colleagues for an evening of conversation, supper and dancing. The distinguished guest did not have to make a presentation if he did not wish, but only one guest has refused to perform (Angna Enters in 1928 over a dispute regarding advance payment). The format agreed upon was to hold four meetings a year beginning with January and ending in June. The meetings were to be held at the Deshler Hotel with a sit-down dinner and dancing following the lecture.
The Crichton Club was formally launched on January 12, 1920 with the British author, founder of the Birmingham Repertory Theatre, and chronicler of plays Mr. John Drinkwater, who presented "Abraham Lincoln." Two speakers -- Stephen Graham and Hugh Walpole -- and a Russian folk singer -- Nina Tarasova -- rounded out the year. The distinguished guests were introduced by the Honorable Daniel H. Sowers and not by the newly elected president, Mrs. Taylor. At this time, and for several years following, a prominent male member of the Board introduced the speakers; the Club's female president presided at the Board meetings.
The organizers were well pleased with the results of their planning and decided to go forward with arrangements for a second year. A constitution was drawn up and sent to the members with a list of the Charter Members. A call for membership renewals went out; the returns were overwhelming and included numerous suggestions of others who would be glad to join. Membership cards were made strictly non-transferable "to preserve the social character of the Club." Members were able to purchase tickets for out-of-town guests twice a year. It was estimated that between three-quarters and four-fifths of the members attended each event.
During the second year, the Board appointed a paid secretary-treasurer "since their work had become so onerous," whose salary would not exceed $150.00 a year. Later, in the mid-1980s, it was decided to divide the position between two people and to discontinue the salary, which by then was $300 a year.
In 1922 a leather-bound autograph book was purchased for dignitaries' signatures and comments. Although John Drinkwater, Hugh Walpole, G. K. Chesterton, and William Beebe were among those who appeared before the Club prior to the purchase of the book, all of their signatures have been secured. The Club is probably indebted to a traveling Board member or past president for these signatures! All the past presidents have felt a keen sense of responsibility for the care of this very special book and always make sure their speakers "sign in" before leaving town.
After two successful years, the Board decided to ask the membership for an increase in dues of $1.00 per year for a "sinking fund." The membership turned down the proposal.
The minutes of 1932 proudly announce that "the Crichton Club continues to show its ability to ride out the present storm." The Board was hesitant to raise dues at that time in light of the economic situation, and instead reduced the number of programs from four to three, with dancing after only two. The minutes continue with the good news that "the Deshler was persuaded to enter into a somewhat more favorable contract. This contract provided that one dollar per plate would be charged only for suppers actually served plus $50.00 for the use of the ballroom."
In 1940 the constitution was revised to allow for an increase of dues to no more than $7.00 a year. The membership agreed to a $1.00 increase in l940, and in 1951 the $7.00 limit was reached. Needless to say, the constitution has been revised over the years and the dues are now $50.00 a year.
During World War II there was a dearth of speakers and unpredictable revenue, which led the Board to consider whether or not the Club should disband or suspend meetings for the time being. The president, Mrs. Stanley Johnson, asked for the opinion of Board members. Mr. Samuel Prescott Bush (grandfather of President George Bush) stated that "the Crichton Club is unique in character and an outstanding organization in the city, and although I recognize the serious handicaps of trying to maintain the quality of past meetings, I should hate to see the Club suspend for even a brief space of time." His feeling was shared by others and the Club decided to weather the storm. Until the end of the war, supper was served only after the final meeting of the year. During these lean years, the question of doing without the meal became a topic for discussion but was quickly dismissed due to the consensus that it would be a mistake to dispense with such an important part of the program.
A one-year Leave of Absence had been inaugurated four years after the founding, but it really came into play during the war when gas was rationed and members outside Franklin County found it difficult to attend. Any members either in the armed forces or performing government service were given unlimited leaves of absence, and refunds if they had paid their dues. Included in the program announcements beginning in the fall of 1942 was this notice: "The Crichton Club will welcome as guests of members all men who serve in the armed forces." Presumably they would have also welcomed all women who served in the armed forces.
At the end of the war in 1945, the three meetings a year continued with the possibility of having a fourth. Dancing and supper were reinstituted. Servicemen were returning and the membership roles grew to over 600. The decision was made not to accept any new members. From time to time there were discussions by the Board concerning the development of a junior membership for those under 35 but no action was ever taken. Gradually membership began to decline and the Board made no effort to increase it but preferred to see it settle into the original plan of 500 members. Membership was always constrained in part by the size of the meeting place. In the early years, just as today, there were concerns for keeping a balance in membership: young, middle-aged, and old; men and women; town and gown. The secretary in 1923 summed it all up this way: "Upon consideration the members must agree that the election of new members is a perplexing and sometimes an harassing matter."
As tastes, prices, and social customs changed, the sit-down dinners and buffets with lobster Newburg at one end of the table and chicken à la king at the other were abandoned, as eventually were the dances. Dancing with a full orchestra had become a tradition and was popular with some members, but others felt it did not fit the "tone" of the evening. Piano music replaced the orchestra in 1960, and the following year an area of the corridor was set aside for those who still yearned to dance. Dancing gradually faded away.
In 1952, the Crichton Club made its first break with the Deshler by holding two of its three meetings at the Athletic Club. This was to be the last year for the Deshler because of scheduling problems. To the disappointment of many and the distress of others the Crichton Club began its move east down Broad Street, first to the Seneca Hotel and eventually on to the Columbus Gallery of Fine Arts (now The Columbus Museum of Art). At about this same time, 1957, a dinner in honor of the speaker with members of the Board, their spouses, and a few guests was introduced. Originally the dinners were held at private clubs but later the entire evening -- dinner, lecture, and reception -- was held at the Museum.
The secretary's minutes of 1923-24 indicate that many of the plusses and some of the minuses still exist 80 years later. The following colorful account of the Club's first five years is worth repeating. "So far as the Secretary knows, there has never been any personal unpleasantness among the members regarding any Club matter that has arisen during the five years. The Directors have often felt very proud and happy in the appreciation that has come from various members, who state that the membership gets a very large return for its dues..... With this opinion the members of the Board of Directors themselves concur. There have been times, however, when life has not been made so happy for the members of the Executive Board. They have sometimes received resignations from those who have been grieved and incensed at the poor quality of the lectures...... Some have felt that the lectures were very dull, and that there should be more entertainments of an amusing nature. Others have protested against the musical programs saying that the musical organizations of the city gave them all the music they cared to hear..... Some have felt it very foolish to wear evening dress at the meetings, and have reported that some members who wished to wear hats had been driven from the Club by the fine clothes of those present at the meetings; while others say the opportunity to wear evening dress has come to them only since the Crichton Club was organized. To all these criticisms, favorable and unfavorable, the members of the Board have listened; but since the membership of the Club has not fallen off, and since the waiting list never grows less, they conclude that the amount of satisfaction felt by the members is on the whole greater than the amount of dissatisfaction they experience in the meetings. They are even inclined to believe that the pleasure some of the members get out of what is impolitely called 'kicking' is worth to them the price of admission."
Dedicated Board members and officers kept the Club afloat through the Depression and World War II, managing with very little change to keep its major purpose "to bring together four evenings in the year men and women of all ages, and many interests, who could share in the pleasure of seeing a man or woman of accomplishment and distinction."
Crichton Club in many ways is a family affair and there are many like President Ann Follansbee Wright who remem-bers her parents, Austin and Elizabeth McElroy, dressed in evening clothes, going off to the Deshler-Wallick to hear famous people lecture and then to enjoy a buffet supper and dancing. Although the buffet supper and dancing are long since gone, the evening is still black tie, famous people continue to mount the dais, and by tradition, the president is still a woman.
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RECORDS AND RECOLLECTIONS
Recollections of past presidents and club archival records preserved at the Ohio Historical Society provide a rich review of some of the 273 personalities the Club has been privileged to host over the years. In retrospect, each president is certain her speakers were the best, but the following highlights from the past 80 years prove that not only were there many pleasant and amusing moments, there was a smattering of aggravations and frustrations mixed in.
Since the beginning of the club, the dress of both speak-ers and members has been a topic for discussion. The tradition of black tie for members has been reviewed by the Board and secret ballots have even been taken at Board meetings to see if it should be discontinued. The Board has always voted to continue. A few years ago when a new member inquired of her sponsor if it would be acceptable to wear a tuxedo pant suit, she was advised against it. That evening, the archeologist Iris Love was the speaker and she appeared in gold lamé knickers.
Terence Hanbury White spoke to the Club in 1963 and recalled his visit in his book America At Last: "We dressed for dinner, I am glad to say, and everything was civilized and pleasant and as warmhearted as ever....The critical standard of the club was higher than what I usually have to face." White loved being in James Thurber's hometown and couldn't believe that the dam really broke. Few will forget the handsome ap-pearance of the tall, elegant White in a full-length cape. Twenty years later White's sartorial splendor was equaled by the Scottish kilt of James Trefil. The Club also had its share of nonconformists. Emil Ludwig surprised the press at his news conference when he appeared barefoot and in pajamas. Ar-thur Schlesinger, Jr. (as remembered by former President Ka-tie McClure) "chose to go out on the town with a local cousin, arriving late at the Board dinner....when he did breeze in, he sidled into his seat in his trench coat -- no tuxedo beneath -- and instead of getting into stride with the meal, ordered a Scotch and water." President Louise McCulloch also remembers picking up one of her speakers whose tan trousers were visible under his raincoat. He never commented on his attire nor was he asked about it. One of the more staid Board members wanted to know if he had been told it was black tie -- he had.
All the finery could at times be the cause of disappointment. Mrs. Herman Hoster always regretted missing a chance to dance with J. B. Priestly at the spring 1931 meeting because she feared someone might step on the long chiffon train of the black beaded gown she had recently purchased in Paris at Lanvin.
The membership always seemed to be interested in speakers from abroad, especially those with titles. When such an eminence was announced, a great rush for guest tickets and renewing of memberships ensued. The Grand Duke Alexander of Russia drew an audience of 520, which set an all-time record in 1929. The enthusiasm for the booking of Lord Harlech forty years later led the Board to defy the fire laws and stack folding chairs outside the doors of the auditorium. Much to the relief of the president, Gilly Ludden, they were not needed.
Margot Asquith's appearance in 1922 prompted the issuing of 50 guest tickets, a waiting list, and the following firm note to an offending member: "Mr. and Mrs. ....are notified by the President and the Directors of the Crichton Club that in bringing to the meeting of February 18 a guest for whom a card of admission had repeatedly been refused, they have, in the opinion of the Board, overstepped the courtesies permitted to members of Crichton Club, and are requested in future to observe the rules and regulations announced by the Directors, in order that the Club may be conducted in a regular and orderly manner."
The second appearance before the Crichton Club in l930 of the renowned Admiral Richard Byrd is well documented by the secretary's report: "Admiral Byrd's lecture provided an opportunity for the Club to do a generous and public-spirited thing for Columbus, which involved a departure from our customary procedure. Because it was felt that the experience of hearing Admiral Byrd should be shared with a larger group, the meeting was held in Memorial Hall. Each member was given one guest ticket. The remainder of the seats were sold for the nominal sum of one dollar in order to encourage the natural interest of young people in the Byrd expedition. Every seat in Memorial Hall was sold and we were able to sell, in addition, about fifty standing-room tickets." Byrd's manager was annoyed that only one dollar was charged for what he considered a three-dollar event!
Professor Auguste Piccard's visit came at the time of the bank holidays in 1933 and it was felt "it would be in better taste to have only a lecture without refreshments." The meeting was held in Mees Hall and each member was allowed to bring a guest. Professor Piccard had two requests: no one was to smoke, and his identical twin brother was to share the stage with him. After the lecture, no one was certain as to which Piccard they had heard! In the case of the former prime minister of France, Pierre Mendès-France, the members knew whom they had heard, but were not sure what they had heard, owing to his very strong accent combined with a bad head cold.
There are always a few guest speakers who avail themselves very freely of Crichton Club hospitality. Elizabeth Rose Williams, the club's president in 1960, was amused to discover the eminent theologian Paul Tillich's "Chuchillian capacity for brandy". The brandy did not prevent him from delivering a very profound and inspiring talk.
In 1923 Lord Birkenhead, one of England's finest legal minds, absorbed too much Crichton hospitality en route to the lecture platform. Governor James Campbell, who was to introduce the distinguished jurist, was urged to extend his introduction to allow the speaker a little time to recover. The governor launched into a lengthy discussion of British-American relations throughout the nineteenth century, while his daughter, Mrs. John Myers Taylor, the first president of the club, unaware of the situation, sat in the audience quietly pulling to bits her feathered fan. When the governor finally yielded the platform, Lord Birkenhead, still appearing a bit befuddled, proceeded to answer the governor point by point.
Kathryn Wright wrote in her minutes of 1928 that it was "a year of considerable trials and perplexities for the directors of the Crichton Club." Ray Chapman Andrews and Angna Enters were two of her "trials" that year. Andrews broke his contract at the last moment but luckily could be replaced by Cornelia Otis Skinner. The dancer and pantomimist Angna Enters refused to perform without being paid in advance; she spent the evening in her dressing room, while the members enjoyed an evening of dancing.
The pantomimist Cilli Wang forwarded a long list of properties that needed to be constructed for her performance. The Board worked diligently to get everything ready for her, only to have her decide on arrival that she would build her own. The exhausted Board forgave all as they watched her transform herself into a flower on stage.
In 1950, President Katie McClure had her "trial" with the visit of the Sitwells. "On the occasion of the Sitwells, they had been met at Union Station by Joe Platt [husband of Margaret Platt, president 1948-50] and taken to their rooms at the Deshler-Wallick Hotel. It had been established in advance that they did not want to be guests at our traditional dinner, but Joe had presumably explained that the lecture would take place at 8:30 in the Deshler ballroom. They didn't appear, and frantic calls to their room went unanswered. A search of the busy Deshler lobby by an energetic Board member disclosed our guests sitting in regal, but lonely, splendor on two decorative lobby chairs -- Dame Edith in a theatrically medieval costume. Thus the reading of the Sitwell poetry -- heavy going at best and in an uncompromising British accent -- began about a half-hour late. Unfortunately, Dame Edith and Sir Osbert had decreed that their reading would be interrupted by a ten-minute intermission, and this arrangement proved disastrous. Many of the audience took the welcome opportunity to go home, and Board members had a difficult time cajoling others back to the ballroom for the remainder of the ponderous program."
There have been several temporarily missing speakers besides the Sitwells during these eight decades. Molly Caren Fisher who served three terms as president recalls the missing Henry Kissinger: "My husband, John Caren and I went to the Deshler Hotel, wearing full evening dress at 5:30 p.m. to escort Dr. Kissinger to the Columbus Club for dinner. Mr. Caren double parked at Broad and High Streets while I went in to locate Dr. Kissinger. Nowhere was he to be found. I inquired if he were registered in the hotel; indeed, he was registered. We called his room; no answer. After about twenty minutes he appeared, having been stuck in an elevator which was stalled between floors."
Alfred Kazin and his problems of getting to Columbus are also recalled by Mrs. Fisher: "About 2:00 p.m. of the day of his lecture, he called from La Guardia where he was already on a plane that had engine trouble. He said he would be late. At intervals he called all afternoon, finally running out of quarters, and asked if he might reverse the charges. I gladly accepted the charges. My last call from him was just before I left the house to go to the Columbus Club, where we were to have dinner. His last call came during dinner at the Club, saying his plane should take off after awhile. We had dinner, and then drove to the art museum -- without a speaker. Everyone assembled in the auditorium and I learned that the plane was due at Port Columbus in half an hour. I came out on the stage and told the eagerly waiting audience that this was the night every Crichton Club president had been waiting for -- the night when she had no speaker. However, my husband was at that moment on the way to the airport. So Bill Young, then Director of the Museum, turned on all the lights in the upper galleries, and invited us to go up and view a new exhibition which had just been hung. We accepted his invitation, and I had to face a barrage of questions as to when Mr. Kazin might arrive. In due course this very tired speaker wearing a rumpled pink shirt appeared, and greeted me with open arms, because by now we were old friends. He made a superb speech, which brought down the house, and was well worth the wait."
The President of Oberlin College, S. Frederick Starr, had no trouble getting to Columbus, but his luggage did. The dinner guests were very surprised to see him in a ski sweater. His suitcase was delivered in time for him to change for the lecture.
Molly Morris also recalls the very late arrival of Admiral Elmo Zumwalt and his wife. She persuaded a reluctant but gracious professor from Ohio State University to serve as a last-minute substitute, but just as the program was about to begin, the Admiral entered the auditorium. After his talk the Admiral was surprised and pleased to discover his first questioner to be a fellow admiral and good friend. A long and pleasant reunion followed at the Morris home that evening.
Cartoonist Bill Mauldin arrived late and had to borrow both tie and suspenders before going on to enrapture the audience with his quick sketches of world leaders and his famous wartime duo, Willie and Joe.
Although Sinclair Lewis and Frank Lloyd Wright were not really "trials" they did seem to enjoy tweaking their audience with insults. Lewis proclaimed the audience to be a bunch of "stuffed shirts" and then charmed a group of male members into late-night drinks at one of the favorite masculine retreats in town. Wright could not keep from making disparaging remarks about Columbus architecture and annoyed people with the flippancy with which he answered young listeners' serious questions. He did redeem himself a bit by showing his weakness for the lobster Newburg served at the buffet dinner.
And then there were those who could do no wrong. The members were enthralled with John Gielgud's "Evening of Shakespeare", Margaret Webster's excerpts from Shaw, and the gracious Madam Pandit who sent back saris for Miss Williams and Mrs. Wright. Everyone expected a very outspoken Margaret Mead but, in fact, she endeared herself to both men and women -- unlike another speaker, a nutritionist who believed that everyone should eat grass. Dr. Dixie Lee Ray won the admiration of many when it was discovered she had eschewed the usual bureaucratic Washington lifestyle for a motor home with her two dogs and books.
Strobe Talbott's visit could not have been better timed -- his book Deadly Gambits had just been featured in the New York Times Book Review Section and had won the Times annual best book award. President Ann Follansbee Wright carried the book to the airport as identification. He had not seen the review and did not know about the prize. Ann had great fun introducing him that evening and announcing his great honor.
The winter of the 75th anniversary year was one of the most severe in Ohio history. The city was encased in ice on February 8, 1994 and Mayor Greg Lashutka urged residents to stay home. Almost one-hundred Crichton Club members disobeyed the Mayor and ventured out to hear Anna Kisselgoff, dance critic for the New York Times, deliver a lecture on "The Arts in the 21st Century."
From the mid-nineties, the themes closing out the 20th Century were dominated by social and political issues, with a few topics on the arts and sciences woven in. Three speakers referred to the 21st Century in the titles of their lectures, and comparatively new terms such as Internet, multi-culturalism, multi-dimensional, terrorism, and psychodrama were introduced into the Crichton Club lexicon. The Club's continuing vitality was fittingly shown when the last lecture of the millennium, Stephen Jay Gould's talk on Charles Darwin, drew the largest crowd of recent years.
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