Fly Club. Situated on the abundant front lawn of Lowell House. Site of the annual Fly Club garden party. Also, the club of FDR, who revisited while president and caused the mayor of Boston to get clocked by the Fly steward as he was trying to follow FDR in.

The Delphic. Also known as The Gas. Because J. P. Morgan built it after he couldn’t get into a final club and sat there all alone, with gaslights burning, to make it seem that people were having a great time inside. Subsequently, generations did. A block away from Mt. Auburn Street.

Spee Club on Mt. Auburn. Where a garrulous steward reported he frequently found Jack and Bobby dressed to the nines in tuxedoes from the waist up and nothing from the waist down.

Phoenix SK Club. You don’t belong if you don’t know what SK stands for. Half a block from the Fly. A world away from Zuckerberg, who couldn’t get in and made it up out of whole cloth for his silly movie.

Owl Club. Home of Grottlesex jocks and the best turkey sandwiches ever. Also Teddy. Who had to abjure his membership.

Fox Club. All done. Some sort of sex scandal. Never actually knew a member. But I did break in, as I did most of the others.

The AD Club. Invisible on Commonwealth Ave. many millions of dollars behind them. Harvard doesn’t want a fight with them. Or the even larger financial interests they command.

Porcellian Club. Opposite the Porcellian Gate of Harvard Yard. So rich and powerful they can bring the university to its knees if they choose. Let’s see how they choose. And they will remain invisible throughout. Broke into their fifth floor on an Easter Sunday. They’ve been shadowing me ever since. Just saying.

Final clubs do lunch. The Hasty Pudding does dinner. Been Co-Ed for 40 years. Also transgender. Male rockettes have been a staple for a hundred years. I have seen there Gloria Steinem, Jack Lemmon, Julia Child, Jimmy Stewart, and WTF. They will survive.