Off on a Spree, Singing From Here to Eternity

It’s a frosty Monday night outside, and every table is filled with elegantly clad patrons, sipping second cocktails and nibbling appetizers in anticipation in the cozy, golden-lamped, mahogany-paneled walls of Mory’s.

At exactly 6:40 p.m., maitre d’ Wayne Nuhn bolts into the Main Room, leading 14 young men singing a rousing Russian army drinking song that fills the two-story house. Perfect multiple harmonies come forth as if from a single voice.

After the last note fades, one singer briefly greets the customers. Then a cheer goes up as Tommy McKearny, the revered Irish waiter of 22 years, places before the chorus two silver, double-handled loving cups filled to the brim with cakes of ice floating in tangy champagne-based potations. The men pass the cups from hand to hand and mouth to mouth as patrons applaud.

These are the Whiffenpoofs, descendants of the original songsters “off on a spree and damned from here to eternity,” who still sing for their supper and cups as generations of Whiffs have done every Monday night since the turn of the century.

Throughout the evening, between dinner courses, they erupt in lively tunes, traveling from table to table and to party rooms upstairs, serenading and quaffing free cups earned from appreciative customers.

This year, the Whiffs are scheduled for a world tour from South America to the Far East and Europe in addition to appearances at the White House and on Broadway. It’s common for several members of the group to “unenroll” from Yale University for the long tour.

This self-perpetuating group numbers 14--all seniors, all male, tapped in their junior years by the senior Whiffs for one year’s duty. Many have gone on to entertainment careers.

Last month, 300 of 750 living Whiffs met at Mory’s to celebrate their 90th anniversary. They have cut 50 albums, have entertained in more than 40 countries and are the oldest men’s a cappella group in the world.

Singer and business manager Chris Gentile says, “Our tour’s a grand one-year experience that anyone privileged to be a Whiff never forgets.” In 1978, James Yent gave up captaincy of the varsity basketball team to become a Whiffenpoof. Yent, class of ‘79, explained, “I can play basketball any time, but I can be a Whiffenpoof only once.”

Mory’s hallowed halls are in a building that dates to the War of 1812. The ground floor is divided into three dining rooms, a kitchen, and two offices, one of which doubles as a taproom. There are five private dining rooms upstairs and a library where books and memorabilia about Yale and Mory’s fill the shelves. In all, the house can accommodate about 200 people.

Walls are covered with pictures of Yale sports teams, varsity captains, historic documents and mementos of campus life.

Rickety Chairs and Ghosts From the Past

In the dining areas, students, alumni and faculty sit side by side on rickety bistro chairs and in booths. Worn tables are covered with carved initials of famous Yalies, including Cole Porter, Rudy Vallee, Monte Wooley, Vincent Price, Calvin Trillin, Benjamin Spock, William Wrigley and Paul Mellon.

Some of the carved old table tops have been retired from service and mounted on the walls. From the ceiling of one dining room hang oars once pulled by victorious Yale crewmen.

At evening’s end, the Whiffs return to the Main Room. After quaffing more cups and tasting the traditional Indian Pudding at their long table, they stand and sing their signature score, “The Whiffenpoof Song,” leaving many eyes damp. The ritual hasn’t changed in nearly a century.

Passage of time remains irrelevant at Mory’s, which has the same genteel air of the 19th century English alehouse in which it began. Forever there will be the original table offerings of rarebits, Baker’s soup, fried sardines, broiled calf’s liver and Mory’s Mud Pie on the menu, though it’s now much broader.

Stresses Radley Daly, vice president of the Mory’s Assn.: “The honor-bound mission of Mory’s house committee forever remains, ‘Keep Mory’s Mory’s.’ ”

It all began in 1861 when newlyweds Frank Moriarty, a British-born railway mechanic, and Jane Moriarty opened a neighborhood alehouse. One afternoon, thirsty Yale oarsmen returning from crew practice in New Haven Harbor happened upon this humble oasis. Almost immediately, the stop at Mory’s became the most important exercise in the crew’s training regimen. Yale men came for conversation, the brown ale in pewter mugs, and Jane Moriarty’s popular rarebits.

After Frank’s death in 1876, Jane Moriarty would prepare the specialties of the house--Welsh rarebit (melted cheese with beer batter over toast), eggs on toast, grilled sardines and golden bucks (a Welsh rarebit with poached egg on top)--then sit in her rocking chair knitting at the back of the bar.

She died in 1885 and sole proprietorship fell to popular waiter Edward G. Oakley.

He launched the tradition of Mory’s cups and extended a $20 line of credit to all undergraduates. He served a full round of drinks on the house whenever a student paid his bill. Of course, students preparing to pay up would spread the word to their classmates.

After Oakley died, an enterprising German immigrant named Louis Linder took over the lease. Linder renamed the place Mory’s in honor of the founders.

He loved music and encouraged Yale singing groups to come and entertain for free cups. One of them, the popular University Quartet, began appearing every Monday night.

With typical undergraduate Ivy League fancy, Denton “Goat” Fowler, ‘09, suggested the group call itself the “Whiffenpoofs,” after a mythical animal in a then-current Victor Herbert Broadway musical “Little Nemo.” The authorship of the group’s signature “Whiffenpoof Song,” which has become Yale’s anthem, remains a mystery.

In February 1909, the Whiffs drew up a constitution and declared themselves a corporate body “dedicated to eating, drinking and good fellowship.” (Their song became nationally known when Vallee recorded it in 1936.)

Association Formed to Keep It Alive

When Linder’s ailing health threatened to close the landmark in 1896, students and alumni rallied to found Mory’s Assn., a private nonprofit group that would give the Yale shrine everlasting life.

In 1912, the association bought the federal house that the club now calls home and moved much of the furniture, fixtures and memorabilia from the old location.

The management of Mory’s is now vested in a 16-member board of governors (four of whom serve as officers) elected by the membership to rotating three-year terms. The board oversees the running of the club, dedicating itself to preserving all of Mory’s traditions.

Board secretary Cheever Tyler has described Mory’s as a place where “the traditions of this college are encapsulated. . . . When you bring people here, they’re immersed in what Yale means.”

Until 1972, it was possible for Yale undergraduates (except freshmen), sponsored by a member, to pay $18 for a lifetime membership. Mory’s cardholders now number more than 18,000, making it the largest private club in the world. It now costs $100 a year.

Daly says the biggest difference between Mory’s of today and Mory’s of Linder’s time is the dwindling presence of undergraduates. They seem to prefer pizza and fast food, and are put off by Mory’s pricey menu and requirement that men wear jackets and ties after 5 p.m.

The dress code is relaxed on nights of football, basketball and hockey games. Nevertheless, the motto of board President Herbert Emanuelson, ‘51, remains: “If you’re going to keep Mory’s Mory’s, you’ve got to have a jacket and tie.”