Then, there are the social beings who spend most of their time in the society of girls. They are the “spoonoids” of the Corps. After dinner they flock en masse either to the visitors’ seats or to the hotel where mothers, sisters, sweethearts, friends and friends’ friends gather around admiringly. It must not be imagined that all “spoonoids” are alike. There are the virulent kind who are never in camp during “release from quarters,” who are never seen on the athletic field except in a dress coat. They are always rushing some girl, first one, then another, and are of the genus that are never quite on time for any formation. They come running into camp at the last minute, breathless and excited, and are peevish if everyone doesn’t turn in and help them into their belts for parade. Then there is the more moderate “spoonoid,” the unobtrusive sort, who, when he goes walking with a girl, dons his comfortable gray shirt and white trousers, and sets forth carrying a few deceptive golf sticks. Lastly, there is the timid kind who sneaks into his dress coat and tries to slip out of camp without being seen by his fellows. He really wants to go out but he is a little ashamed of his desire, and he doesn’t want the other chaps to know anything about it. Besides, the chorus of “ahs-s-s-s-s-s!” from all the tents along the line terrify him.
West Point, however, is indebted to these social beings for the touch of romance and glamour that they give to the summer life. Their bright uniforms and the gay dresses of their partners (and the still gayer parasols) are seen everywhere on Flirtation Walk, on the balcony back of Cullum Hall, on the Plain, and chiefly at the visitors’ seats, and their youth and enthusiasm add a distinct charm to the social life.
But the real amusements and pleasures of summer camp come after supper. Thrice weekly small hops are held from eight to ten o’clock and on the other three nights open-air concerts are given by the band.
The hops are the most popular and enjoyed of all the pleasures. The Yearlings have an opportunity of showing how much they profited by their dancing lessons of the previous summer and they flock to Cullum Hall in droves. On hop nights the camp is practically deserted. Some few men who do not care for dancing, and another small group who pose as women haters, remain in the limits visiting one another or reading. The new plebes, of course, are in their tents, silently working upon their equipment. Commencing at seven-thirty, however, a stream of upper-classmen begins passing the guard tents, signing out for the hop, bound first for the hotel or for some officers’ quarters where charming young partners await them. As soon as darkness falls the couples set forth for the dance. As they emerge out of the obscurity of the Plain into the brilliant light that pours out of the main entrance of the hall they appear for all the world like a lot of summer insects drawn to a bright electric bulb.
It is a charming picture that the cadets in their uniforms and the girls in their pretty dresses make as they gather in Cullum Hall for the dances. It recalls all of the stories of beauty and chivalry that poets have so often idealized. As I watch them today, their youth tempts my imagination and it runs away, but as a matter of truth the reality is not quite so ideal.
The cadets, even the most imaginative, see things more clearly and recognize that some of the girls that come to the hops were not the subject of the poet’s thought when he wrote his odes to beauty. There are all sorts of girls. There are young girls, and some not so young; pretty girls and homely ones; vivacious girls and inanimate ones; intelligent girls and dull ones; and occasionally some few attend the dances who are so little favored with feminine charms that for years the cadets have called them “L. P.’s.” These damsels are usually the friends of friends, or maybe, the friends of friends of friends—very distant as you see, and the poor cadet is called upon to pay off his friend’s social debt. He does it well, too, for the dances are all by card so that every girl has her partners arranged beforehand, and she leaves the ball having experienced the intoxication of a great belle.
The cadets have no little fun over these girls, and if by any chance they know them ahead of time they make an attempt to ensnare one of their classmates, saying:
“Say, Jim, there is a peach of a femme coming up for the next dance, will you ‘drag’ her for me?”
He elaborates upon her charms with the deceit of an experienced politician until accommodating Jim accepts.
Most men, however, are wily about these unknown friends’ friends, but occasionally they are caught. I know one cadet who was asked to take such a girl to a hop. He replied that he would not do so himself but that he would find some other cadet. With true Irish persuasiveness and unexampled Blarney he prevailed upon a classmate. When the latter was making out the card of the supposedly beautiful girl (but in reality a true L. P.) his first thought was to offer some dances to the promoter of the young lady. The arch-plotter, however, innocently replied: