D.K.E. piano was not silent

Colby Bicentennial Seal 1864-1913

Jan. 31, 1902

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The club rooms of the D.K.E. fraternity on College Avenue, last Friday evening, were the scene of a very pleasant assemblage. The Dekes of the active chapter tendered a smoker to the alumni members of the fraternity residing in the city.

The rooms were brilliantly lighted; a bright fire was crackling in the fireplace, while Deke designs and escutcheons were in evidence on all sides, from rugs on the floor and pillows in every nook of window-seat and sofas. In one corner stood a table holding a large punch bowl surrounded by drinking glasses, and on the mantel were cigars with appurtenances for smoking them, of which everyone was expected to partake, whether he had ever smoked before or not. And as early as half-past seven all of the active members were collected.

The alumni brothers began to arrive soon after this. The younger men sparked no pains to see that the guests of the evening were well waited upon, and the punch and cigars did not fail to meet their appointed office. There was nothing in the least formal or constrained, everyone was at his ease, and did his best to insure that both he himself and those about him should have a good time.

As the light, billowy clouds rose more and more thickly towards the ceiling, brothers young and old moved freely from room to room and gathered here and there in ever changing groups for conversation. The center of each group was usually some alumni surrounded by his interested listeners.

The piano was not long silent, and soon several of the more musically inclined of the brothers gathered about it rendering at first some of the late popular songs, but these were later followed by some of the Fraternity songs in which all voices joined. When the air of Phi Marching Song was begun, the brothers of this active chapter joined in lock step Indian File and tramped slowly back and forth around chairs and tables and out through the hall. Some time after ten many of the older and some of the younger members felt obliged to leave. Those who remained, however, gathered about the hearth in the south parlor and, in the gleam of the dying member, stories, old and new, were bandied.–The Colby Echo