Boys’ Club for Life : Friendship Network Established in 1924 Has Withstood the Tests of Time

It is part old boys’ network, part family outside of family. For more than 67 years, members of the Artisan Coterie have been part of each other’s lives.

Established in 1924 by 12 students at Manual Arts High School, the club’s sole purpose, as its stationery proclaims, is “perpetuating friendship.”

“We were originally known as the Pretzel Benders,” explains Norris Henderson, 84, a retired credit union manager who now lives in Leisure World Laguna Hills. “But we decided to get a little classier so we changed our name to Artisan Coterie. We liked artisan because it refers to those who work in the industrial arts, and coterie because it refers to a close association.”

These men have assembled in restaurants, clubs, and in each other’s homes every second and fourth Tuesday for 65 years. Only lately have they begun to meet just once a month.

“Who’s the oldest one here?” shouts Red Williams, 86, a retired furniture sales manager who also lives in Leisure World. All 15 club members gathered in a home in Hermosa Beach seem excited to see one another. They shake hands and pound each other enthusiastically on the back. Everyone is talking at once.

“I’m the oldest,” someone shouts back. “I’m the one in ‘The Last Supper’--third from the left. I’m the one asking for separate checks.”

Watching these men joking with one another, retelling the stories over lunch is like watching a room full of teen-age boys who, much to their astonishment, have suddenly and mysteriously acquired aging bodies.

What has prompted these men to set aside time to see each other for the past 65 years? “We’re each other’s memory,” explains Henderson. “We help each other remember.”

What they remember is a Southern California others can only imagine: a beach city sparsely dotted with modest beach cottages, a rural Palos Verdes where--at midnight--Coterie initiates careened down its steep hills in children’s wagons.

“Every winter the Artisan Coterie would have its annual stag weekend at Mt. Baldy,” recalls Henderson. “Even after we were married, this was the one event just for us. We’d rent a cabin up there and just have a good time.

“We used to run around naked in the snow,” he adds, smiling slyly.

There were also trying times. The members’ vow “to perpetuate true and lasting friendship” was brought to its first test during the Depression. Many lost jobs or were forced to quit school. Four club members moved into Herb Simon’s 86-year-old mother’s--”Mom Simon’s”-- home in Los Angeles. One member, a practicing osteopath, financed another club member through medical school. Recalls Simon, “We held our meetings at the Pig ‘n’ Whistle Cafe on Wilshire and Hauser because they offered us a private room and dinner for 50 cents.”

But World War II seems to have been the event that bonded these men (the club, at its peak, boasted more than 60 members; 19 are alive today). During the war, 17 members were in the armed forces. Those who remained home took it upon themselves to be responsible for the service men’s families. To keep everyone in touch, Henderson began writing a monthly bulletin for Coterie members and their families.

“The war cemented our relationship,” Henderson said. “Everyone would write letters, send them to me, and I’d bundle them up with the latest bulletin and send it off to wherever the Coterie member was stationed. It was an important time; we started thinking that we might be getting older. Once you begin to realize that, you also understand how precious friendship is.”

All the Coterie members returned from the war. But times were tough at home. One member, Los Angeles resident Roy Ackerman, began suffering from crippling arthritis in the late 1930s. The club decided to raise money for treatment. Someone donated a radio and the group raffled tickets for it. Another member pledged four Rose Bowl tickets and the Coterie sold 1,000 raffle tickets for those.

“We’d all invite football fans to come over to our homes on Saturday to listen to games on the radio, then we’d put the bite on them to buy tickets,” recalls Simon. “Pretty sneaky, but it worked.”

As Ackerman’s health grew worse, the members’ commitment grew stronger. One engineered and built beds and walkers to make Ackerman more comfortable. The club also paid for his telephone so he could call friends regularly.

Artisan Coterie members looked after him until he died in 1960. Ackerman had been bedridden for 23 years.

When another member’s business was near bankruptcy, the Coterie bailed him out.

“No one knows who gave what--we kept no record,” Henderson said. “We would’ve done it for anyone.”

In fact, they found each other jobs, and hired members when they could and kept each other employed during rough times. Artisan Coterie members include an attorney, athletic director, banker, baker, doctor, educator, FBI employee, finance executive, foundry owner, geologist, oil executive, minister, mortician, contractor and U.S. government road administrator. Today, the Coterie boasts no less than seven millionaires.

A fine and very old bottle of brandy waits to be consumed by the last surviving member of the Artisan Coterie. It is unlikely that will happen any time soon.

“I had a Coterie member stand up for me at my wedding,” Henderson said. “I had a Coterie member deliver my first child, build my first house, and give me my first job. And when I die, a Coterie member will bury me.”