Special People Deserve Special Treatment

 

I remember, one crisp fall morning, going with my dad to the row of houses that led down from the Froeberg Hall Parking lot.

I think it was for some sort of a newspaper recycling thing, but what stuck with me was the cool Fall air, the leaves falling from the trees and the neat little houses that were occupied by faculty and staff. It might have been the late ‘60s of early ‘70s, but it gave me a sense of what the school must have been like during it’s heyday…when there was still a lot of promise on the campus.

Down from these houses, there was a vacant lot. A few years later, I would play there with some of the other campus brats, among the weeds, trash and an old garage that was hidden away in the vegetation.

The lot was taken away when the college needed new housing for the students, but cash-flow was low. Instead, they decided install ‘temporary’ housing instead, while the money was raised for a permanent building. The vacant lot was cleared, along with a few of the faculty houses, concrete pads were poured and a parking lot was paved.

Then, one summer afternoon, I watched as several pre-fab modular homes were trucked down Springdale Avenue, and onto the campus, where they were deposited onto the pads, hooked up to water and electric, and suddenly, the college had townhouses!

These ‘temporary’ houses were left in place for about 20 years…and many became unofficial Fraternity and Sorority house, as they were taken over by the Greek organizations on campus.

By the time I started college at Upsala, in the 1980’s, the constant abuse by college students, and lack of maintenance had left the townhouses in rough shape.  Some of the floors and walls would move in ways they were not designed to, the plumbing was often bad, leading to stopped-up toilets, and one house that had a geyser in the front yard every time someone flushed!

They were not much to look at, but they had a/c and made great party houses. I spent a lot of time there during my freshman year, and eventually wound up falling in with a bunch of guys from Alpha Phi Omega (Nu Chapter). The Gods were fun, but mostly football players, the Owls had non-football jocks, but were pretty nice guys, but I felt I fit better with the guys from APO, as I was not a jock, and often felt slightly out of place at a party…except when I was with them. They also liked to party a lot, this too appealed to me!

APO’s townhouse (#16) was very lived-in! The carpet was so soaked with spilled beer and a few other things, that will remain unidentified, that the house’s cat looked like he was moon-walking whenever he was trying make his way across the living room! It was not the kind of place you would want to walk around barefoot!

And this would be our headquarters for one of the most intense weeks of my life: Hell Week!

Due to lack of sleep and way too much indulgence in drugs and alcohol (something I no longer do), I don’t have a clear memory of that week, but I do remember that it was late April of 1982, and I remember gathering at the townhouse on that first morning. The older brothers gave us beers (those of us who were of legal age of course), and had us line-up to assign “Big Brothers” who would mentor us throughout the week, given our pledge names (mine was QueeQuee: somehow it was a variation on my last name, I hated it at first, but now…I still kind of hate it), and then they gave us the bricks that we would carry around our necks all week. They had us spray-paint they gold and write the letters of the frat on the brick in blue paint: ΑΦΩ for Alpha Phi Omega!

Each day of the week began with a saying, the theme for each day, which we had to memorize, such as “Special people deserve special treatment”, “Chemical warfare is serious business” or “There’s a Hinkley behind every Bush”. And we also had to memorize the Chapter’s history, learn the Greek alphabet, and sing marching songs as we paraded across the campus, always with the banner leading the way, with the stern warning that it was never to touch the ground!

We ran lots of laps, did lots of push-ups and sit-ups. If it weren’t for the alcohol, I probably would have come out of the week in great shape, instead, I was a delirious wreck.

As it was spring, the weather was capricious, but we were promised “It always rains during Hell Week”. True to this promise, while we had some warm and sunny days we also had a few rainy and cold days and nights. Although we would have welcomed some rain for the ‘Ice-cream Party’, when we were marched onto the football field at night, and covered with left-overs from the cafeteria (I have to admit that I helped with this, as I was working in the caf that year, and had connections…however, this also allowed me to hide the ‘punishment’ cinder block on the loading dock, where the older brothers didn’t have access to it), but it was still cold that night…so that was fun, to make our way back to the dorms, in the cold, while dripping with sludge!

With all that rain, there was a lot of mud, that we were asked to roll in, this and the ‘Ice-cream Party’ were part of the reason why we were referred to (affectionately) as ‘Pigs’, another reason was because we ate garbage (onions, garlic, something called Jerusalem Apples, and Gefilte Fish). We were also pelted with eggs, made drink down raw eggs and asked to eat ‘gold fish’ (really just peach slices).

Note that I had to throw away a lot of my clothes when that week was over.

Among the many adventures we had during the week, was when we did ‘Secret Service’. This was when we got dressed (in suits if possible), wore dark sunglasses, and escorted the President’s (of the frat) car to the Student Center, where the cafeteria was located. We flanked the car as it moved slowly down Prospect Street (annoying many drivers), once it was parked, we cleared the way for the President and escorted him up to lunch, ensuring that no one got near him!

It was fun, even though we then had to get food for the older brothers, and then stand by to clear away their plates…but this is something we did for every meal during Hell Week, so it was not that bad!

Of course, there was a lot of drinking…looking back now, I realize that not everyone was as enthusiastic about this activity as I was. This over indulgence and lack of sleep took its toll on me, as I fell asleep in more than one class, using my brick as a pillow and drooling all over my desk! Looking back now, I probably should have had all that Jack Daniels before deciding to head to class!!

There are better memories…like climbing up on the roof of Old Main, to see the lights of New York City, hanging out with one of the older brothers, as night turned to day for the third time in a row without sleep. He brought me outside, told me to look up at the sky, and said “Look, that is yesterday, there is tomorrow…and this, is right now!” as he pointed straight up where I could see the stars fading as the light of the new day crept in.

There was also kindness, as my frat Big Brother would buy us some time to get sleep before a class, some extra food, or send us on an errand that gave us a break! He and the other brothers would also give us advice that helped make the week easier.

We also got to take a few road trips during the week, as the pledges were blindfolded and dropped off at some undisclosed location and had to find their way home. I kind of remember hearing a story (though it could be apocryphal) of some guys who were dropped off in the dead of night, were very drunk and wound up passing out on a soft, green lawn, only to be awoken in the morning by a NJ State Trooper, seeing as they had passed out on the lawn of the barracks. I only have a vague recollection of my first drop off, but remember that it wasn’t too far away, nor was it too hard to get home. The big drop-off would come at the end of the week….

Although glad to be coming to the end of our trial, we were also anxious, as knew that the last day of Hell Week was going to be tough, and there was still a chance we would not make the cut.

Along with getting good and drunk during the day, and doing more PT, when evening came, we were gathered together for one of our last challenges. We were sent on an obstacle course all over the campus. I was fine with most of it, like running up and down the stairs, sprinting across the lawn, more push-ups and sit-ups, but the part that almost stopped me was doing pull-ups, which I have always had trouble with due to my bad shoulders.

As I was struggling to pull myself up, one of my pledge classmates, ran up behind me and helped me finish the task! I was grateful, but surprised, as this was a guy who never seemed to think much of me…but that did not matter, as we were all in this together, and we all helped each other out as much as we could!

Once we finished the obstacle course, there was one more thing that we had to do before we became full members of the frat, and that was the final drop-off!

Once more filled with liquor and other substances, exhausted from little sleep and lots of exercise, most of us nodded off as soon as we got into the cars that were to take us away. I remember stopping for gas once, because one of the older brothers had a really cool ’69 Chevelle, but it only got about 8 miles to the gallon!

As I remember it, our final stop was deep in the NJ Pine Barrens, a desolate area of Southern New Jersey, with sandy soil and scrub pines, and filled of legends about strange creatures (The Jersey Devil), packs of wild dogs, and strange inbred families, who were very big on privacy!

The Pine Barrens have a network of sandy roads, that are only really suitable for four-wheel drive or off-road vehicles. The owner of the Chevelle was not enthusiastic about taking his car very far down these roads, so he pulled over only a few yards in, and the rest of us (I think) loaded onto the other cars and were driven in as far as those drivers were willing to go…after one of them got stuck and we had to push it out, and that’s where we were left, in the middle of the night!

We stood there in the starlight watching the taillights fade into the pines, leaving us with the sound of the woods: insects, birds, wind through the pines, the distant sound of dogs barking, and other noises we could not identify. Some of the guys were smoking, a few were still finishing up their beers, then, after a few minutes of uncertainty, one of our crew suggested we start walking (probably saying something like “Let’s go, assholes!”) and we began to walk down the sandy road, following the tracks of the cars toward the pavement.

We walked in silence at first, not wanting to draw too much attention to ourselves, because we weren’t sure where we were, or who was around, and it seemed like the thing to do, while walking through the woods late at night.

After a while, we wound up back at the pavement, but unsure which way to go; fortunately, a few of the other pledges lived in South Jersey, and knew the area, and they assured us that if we were to turn left and follow the road, we would eventually come to a small general store. They assured us that further down the road, we’d find a small, country store, which held the promise of food, coffee, bathrooms (instead of the woods), and a pay-phone, we could call for rides home!

As we trudged along, we began to sober up, and we began to talk more…though we still kept it quiet, as we were occasionally passing locked gates and overgrown driveways. Barking dogs could be heard from the beyond the screen of pines, and as we continued on towards dawn, I started to hear the sound of people waking up, screen-doors banging shut, garbage cans being rattled, coughs and the occasional hawk of early morning spit (oh await, that was from me).

I remember looking up to see the stars fade and thought of how I was looking at the start of another new day! As it got lighter, a ground fog moved in, making our walk even more creepy, and adding to my already delirious, hung-over exhaustion! At this point, I was basically walking on auto-pilot, just moving forward one step at a time.

Finally, as the fog was lifting, the small store came into sight! “Buzby’s!” someone announced, reading the sign, at last we were out of the woods, and back in civilization (sort of)! Although I was excited, and really wanted to, I was too tired to run…which was just as well, because when we arrived at the store, it was closed! It was around 6am on a Saturday, and according to the sign, we would have to wait for about an hour until it opened!

I did not mind waiting, as it just felt good to sit down on the edge of the store’s porch and rest. I was joined on the porch by a few of the other guys, some sat on the grass, and others milled around the parking lot, smoking, chatting and drinking beer they had stashed away. While the phone was outside on the porch, it was decided it was too early to call for help.

When the store finally opened, I pulled out the $20.00 I had hidden in my sneaker (as my frat big brother advised to do) and went inside to get buttered rolls and juice (I think…I was pretty out of it at this point). As it was after 7am, the local guys got on the payphone to call for rides, and before long, we had been picked up and on our way home.

The ride home is really just a vague memory of driving down a two-lane road through the Pine Barrens, I think we stopped to eat, and then we hit the Garden State to head back to campus.

I do remember finally getting back to the APO townhouse, and being welcomed as a new brother of Alpha Phi Omega (Nu chapter), with some beers, a few tokes, and handshakes. I sat there on the old sofa, in a room with sticky carpets that stunk of old beer…and thought about how where I was sitting was once a vacant lot, and the houses that were no longer there.

Today, the college is gone, and once again there are houses where the townhouses once stood proudly.

Early in Hell Week, as we were marching across campus, one of my pledge brothers said something like, “This week will remain a black stain on my memory of Spring 1982!” That may be true, but it was also a lot of fun…especially when it was over! We were never forced to do anything we really didn’t want to do, and were never hurt, even the verbal abuse was not serious, and we knew it was all part of the process.

That week in April of 1982 has stayed with me after all these years, even though there are big parts that I don’t remember very well…I am glad I did it, and I became part of a strong group of guys who did more than just party: we also held blood drives, volunteered with the Special Olympics, and did some other service projects during the years. Most importantly, just like during the obstacle course at the end of the week, being part of the frat taught me many lessons on how to work together, back each other up, and accept each other, even if we did not always get along.

So, this is for my frat brothers, though some of us may have grown distant over the years, we will always be connected by the simple fact that we all ran laps, ate eggs, rolled in the mud, and were proud to have been called ‘Pigs’!