The Founder
ActiveHe simply is, in the way that load-bearing walls simply are.
He was there at the beginning. He is here now. The arithmetic of that is left as an exercise for the reader.
The Record
He does not hold a title in the conventional sense. The Founder simply is, in the way that load-bearing walls simply are — the structure depends on them whether or not you can see them. He attends every gathering and has never once arrived second. Members who have been with the Club for decades still straighten slightly when he enters a room, and none of them will admit it, and all of them will do it again.
He has declined to disclose his age on the grounds that "precision in such matters invites unpleasant conversation." He has, on three occasions, been present at the deaths of heads of state. In each case he was listed in no official capacity. In each case, those present reported that he seemed unsurprised.
He has written a memoir. He refuses to publish it. He says it would be "unkind to some, redundant for others, and actionable for a number I won't specify." Several governments have made quiet inquiries about the manuscript. His response to all of them has been the same: a handwritten note containing a single sentence that recipients have declined to reproduce.
He drinks from a particular glass. It has accompanied him to every gathering for longer than any current member can verify. No one has asked what it's made of. The Doctor, during his active tenure, was specifically instructed not to find out. That instruction stands in his absence.
The Old Fashioned
As it was always meant to be