The Tarrytown shortstop distinguished himself both in the field and at bat. He had made his third hit, had stolen second, then third, when a voice came from the bleachers.
"Say!" it implored. "Go steal a watch somewhere, can't you? We need you on our side."
Our journey up the river had been marked with a good deal of that playful ribaldry that usually goes with an excursion of eighty males away from their daily environment, but homeward bound we were a quiet, thoughtful party. We had entertained sixteen hundred convicts and they had repaid us well.
On Sunday, May 23, 1926, The Lambs journeyed further up the river to another institution of rigorous discipline, West Point, and broke two traditions, one for West Point and one for The Lambs.
Brigadier General Merch B. Stewart, Superintendent of the Military Academy, is a Lamb, and we were his guests. Some three hundred Lambs with friends and families made the trip by special train. It is no ordinary feat in railroading to lose half an hour between Hoboken and West Point, but the West Shore achieved it, leading Julius Tannen to recite a
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