TRADITION!

Being a member of the golden age club is not all bad!   I remember the wonderful era of baseball (Ebbets Field, the Polo Grounds, Yankee Stadium) where the heroes of the game rode the crowded subways and buses with the ‘rank and file’ — no limos, chauffeurs, private cars, bodyguards, or million dollar contracts. They were just ordinary people who shared the love of the game with the fans.

That sentimental reflection spans the early days of bridge as well.  The game was smaller, the attendance was less, the cost of travel was a pittance by comparison to today’s escalated costs and the directors were a breed of their own.  Everyone knew everyone else.  The camaraderie was out of sight.  It was just one big happy family.

The directors’ names were household words — Al Sobel, Harry Goldwater, Phil Merry, Paul Marks, Jerry Machlin and some others I am sure I have overlooked.   The tradition of such characters earned them popular acclaim and respect — much in the manner of  two current directors — Sol Weinstein and Chris Patrias — who usually seem to be in command at the highest levels.

For several decades, a standout favorite in my hometown of  Philadelphia was Maury Braunstein (whose wild bow ties were his trademark).  Everyone adored Maury (and his popular wife Marian who was also a director).  Maury directed predominantly on the National level but, when available, presided over most of our tournaments — booked in advance by popular demand.  He had a darling personality and I remember his oft-quoted response when someone asked him about the importance of the game to the players.  ”You’d be surprised!  To some of these people, it’s a matter of life and death .. or even more serious.”

In 1997 I vividly remember Marian inviting Norman and me to Maury’s Surprise 83rd Birthday being held in upper New York State and apologizing if it were an imposition.  Imposition? No way!  We were honored.  Norman and Maury were great friends for many years — and we tried our damnedest but couldn’t pull it off.  We were even more saddened when we learned Maury died later that year and we never made it to the big bash.

Below was our poetic message of regrets:

SORRY, MAURY!!!

We tried our very best — you see
To fly up — to Schenectady

There was no problem — getting there
(From Philly — we’d catch — U. S. Air)

But getting back — we had a plight
There was for us — no return flight

The evening aircraft — had a crowd
And standing up — is not allowed

So all our efforts — went in vain
They could not ship us back — by plane

Please be assured — we went all out
Our hearts were in it — have no doubt

We planned to show up — with no fuss
But  “a number” — they did on us

Though in the flesh — we couldn’t swing it
We’re thankful for — this modern trinket

So to Maury — and — his charming queen
Our love is sent …  by Fax Machine!

Fondly,

Judy and Norman Kay