Having learned that the august, brilliant meals for a lifetime Junto will soon be shuttering, as of September, I wanted to put voice to the many who would express what I say here, had they the time and opportunity:

Junto. This 40-year iconic Big Apple institution, dedicated to inquiry and finance, science, happenstance, fibonacci extensions and the ground-breaking principles advanced by Ayn Rand, has been an important– no, fantastic– part of the NYC landscape on the first Thursday of every month for a glorious and intoxicating run.

The news that it is coming to a close really caught us by surprise, and was devastating in a way few clubby closings or shifts of societal venue or the like has ever done.

We have made friends, associations and long-term allegiances. We have learned about department stores and Pythagorean beauty. We have laughed and absorbed. The unique quality of monthly junto intellectual soirees have distinguished themselves by lively "yet respectful" discussions and debate from a vast spectrum of attendees expert in everything to be imagined. Vic's pointed call-outs have enlivened and sparked talks that might in other venues have threatened to become too abstruse or potentially ethereal. Clever and pertinent questions put speakers straying back onto the straight and not-narrow.

We have discussed adventurers and BBQ, Japanese operas and peek-a-boo

Junto. We have had street-people in from the cold showcasing their wits despite their reduced circumstances. We have had impressive visitors from other climes, disciplines and countries. (Even our computer maven, taciturn and rarely seen brother, surprising no one more than I.)

We have had sopranos and tenors. Pianists and punctilios. Hedge pros and physicians; magazine nerds and investment terns. We have had ecdysiasts and Reason-ists. We have seen Aubrey from pudgy pup to a wise pre-teen verging-phenomenon slated for great things. We've had the occasional ex-wives and spanky never-were-ex or any-sort-of beaux.

Junto. We have exchanged triumphs and marvelous memes. We have celebrated Ayn Rand's birthday every year when the winter's breath is most frosty on our windowpanes. We have rejoiced in the rich feasts of intellect shared by Victor. We have come in swelter and in rain. Through boom times and busts. Pullbacks and bears, bull runs and the more indecisive creatures of the feral forest of finance.

Junto. Victor has sponsored all this, month after month, year after year. Domiciled in the gracious and gently curling edges of the piquant and historic General society of Mechanics and Tradesman of the City of NY on West 44th Street, opposite the Harvard Club.

We have eagerly pored through the monthly newsletters of graphic artist Iris, who worked closely with the remarkable doyenne herself, Ms. Ayn Rand.

Junto. Looking at all this expanse of mind and matter, scholarly egos and grey-cell clatter, the best of New York (and that is spectacular, all would agree), we would most humbly but seriously wish to plead for clemency– for reversal of this unwonted terminal sentence.


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