As the late summer dusk stooped to enfold the arid campus of New York university, Manhattan, one evening last week, a band struck up. The slow movement of the brasses and drums and the grandiose melancholy of the horns contributed a poetic languor to the cool beginning of the evening. But no languor possessed the many listeners. They whispered to each other, took excited notes, whistled snatches of tune. They were playing a game.
Edwin Franko Goldman, conductor of the famed Goldman Band, had offered prizes—one silver, two bronze medals—to go to the...
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