The O.G.---Exotic Liqueurs, Beer of Every Description

Foaming steins that never empty and plaintive ballads that never end may remind some of the ETO, but they remind thousands more of the four glorious years they drifted through their Alma Mater. It was Smokey Joe's at Pennsylvania and Zinck's at Cornell and at Harvard, well, don't send your boy to Harvard warned the dying mother because there's no place to go. He can sing with the Glee Club and drink wherever the stools are softest; but because of a Cambridge ruling forbidding tavern singing, he can't do both at once.

This regulation saddens the people who run the Oxford Grille because they believe in sentimental and sudsey songs. A cheery spot, just off the Square and "known from coast to coast," the O.G. did have a violin and piano until 1942; but some always complained because the music never changed. A Community Singing License was refused about the same time, and so spontaneous music left the Grille, and a juke box took over.

But this musical strangulation didn't hamper the O.G.'s popularity. If it wasn't famed for singing, it had always held a reputation for its unquenchable jumbo and before the war, Houses would compete to chug-a-lug the fastest. Holding ten regular beer glasses, the jumbo provided a nightly chance to manipulate the esophagus against a stop-watch, and the takers were many. The present record is 2 min. 3 sec. and the contest is still open; but the jumbo is as big as ever. Interest has slackened a bit now the required deposit is up to $5 but the College thirst for beer hasn't diminished. Wartime dissatisfaction with 3.2 sent veterans skipping back to the O.G. and to the jumbo they dreamed of overseas.

World Renown

Along with the jumbo, they talked of the surrounding dark-panelled walls and the many-colored candle-holders; and soon the O.G. was known round the world. Patrons would swear it outdated Harvard Hall and few were doubted; but actually the Grille hit the Square in 1939, moving up from a North Cambridge location. Harvard men found it right away and Cambridge Summer Theatre stars began to go over after the shows, leaving tips on the tables and their pictures over the bar. Proud of its exotic liqueur collection from 52 countries, the prewar O.G. would guarantee a free drink of any brand not found in stock. Although this service has since been stopped, the beer drinker has not been neglected, and the O.G. has all kinds; bock, stout, and a varity in Cambridge, porter in bottles. Porter, by the way, is a weak stout, and is as satisfying to the beer drinker as a gut course is to the gentleman-C man.

Sandwiches Too

Yet beer isn't everything and before eight the O.G. wears tablecloths and sports menus and silverware. Lunch and dinner are on the card, as well as a collegiate sandwich assortment, named after Radcliffe, M.I.T. and other nearby schools. Although the tagging is arbitrary, it may not seem so to M.I.T. students who dislike cole slaw, for cole slaw bulks large in the Tech sandwich. It sells well, nevertheless, and all together the O.G. dispenses more food than drink and considers itself more a dining room than an ivy-covered beer hall. But to the sentimental or the thirsty, the O.G. still stands for the best things in life; and even though they mustn't sing, they keep coming back.