Verse I

NOW DO YOU REMEMBER??

I remember I once touted myself as "fastest gun on Bellflower," then would bemoan the fact that once you're known as the fastest gun on Bellflower, you have every two-bit kid on campus gunning for you. . . . Well, that dries me up for now. [From the Net Police: "fastest gun on Bellflower"? "dries me up"? Ahem . . . we'll have to watch such overt sexual innuendoes, Harry. ;-) ]

Anyone who was in the fraternity when we got our "new" house on Bellflower would have to remember our TGFONH (thank God for our new house) party that we Alpha Delts threw. It started early in the afternoon and Dean Cramer, John Schoff Millis (president of the University) and Dean Griffin stopped in to wish us well. Fortunately, they left early and then the party really got started. I think that everyone on Fraternity Row stopped in. We had three full kegs of beer to start. Anyway, Marcia King (campus queen, etc.) stopped in also and started playing our old upright piano, which at that time was in the dining room. We didn't have a piano bench or stool, so she sat on one of the dining room chairs that was donated by Don Miller's mom and dad. They had leather seats. Marcia played the piano for probably two hours--maybe more. It was a warm September day and was very hot inside, especially with all of the people who were there.

Marcia was wearing a felt or velvet dress . . . blue as I recall, and when she finished playing the piano and got out of the chair, the impression of her fanny had been sweated/pressed into the leather with patches of lint from her blue felt (or velvet) dress. From that day forward, that chair was preserved as the "Marcia King" chair and we irreverently, and perhaps lustily, would remember Marcia King whenever we would look at that impression of her butt in blue felt (or velvet).

That party, by the way, was also the start of regular TGIF parties on campus that had stopped for one reason or another.

P.S.: Do you remember "Red Rydie" verses now, Joe?

Joe Ryan borrowed red wagons from little boys all over his neighborhood. (Joe Szabo contributed his childhood wagon, which it turned out, was not red, but rather a little white wagon. There was some discussion in later weeks as to what detrimental effect the possession of a white wagon instead of a red one might have had on poor Joe Szabo's formative years.)

A big part of the float construction was building those blue pyramids for the blue streak. Joe Ryan had procured a load of wood sticks for them. What he should have brought in addition to the lumber was blue oilcloth to stretch over the wooden forms. What he brought by mistake was cheesecloth, and it was white instead of blue. One problem with cheesecloth is that it was really too flimsy for our purpose and had to be applied in layers. One problem with white cheesecloth is that it needed to be died blue.

We always built homecoming decorations at the last minute. In this case, it meant Joe Szabo dying cheesecloth sheets in hot water in the fraternity house kitchen in the middle of the night and bringing them out into the cold October weather to the rest of us trying to stretch them over the wooden frames.

How did we do in the homecoming parade? Well, we didn't win any prizes. I actually never really saw our float, or any others. It was discovered near the end of the construction that every third wagon required a driver for stability. I was so drafted. I spent the Homecoming parade crouched in a little red wagon (or maybe white) with a blue pyramid over me. Stability was greatly undermined by Joe Ryan's concept that the steerers wind from side to side to further create the illusion of a blue streak. Onlookers afterwards were of the opinion that this produced more of a blue snake effect.

Somehow, we didn't tip over in the parade, but afterwards, in the rush to get out of there, we did tip over. It was then and there, standing on a semi-dark Wade Park Avenue, in a line of overturned wagons--a fraternity brother by every third wagon--that it finally ended.

I still don't know what the playing of Hound Dog and other Elvis Presley tunes at full blast had to do with another Homecoming. Who was the A.D.Phi chairman that year?

As I was led to believe, yes you [Joe Ryan], spilled the beans--I'm not sure to whom.

The best part of having the Phi Gam Owl was calling them everyday and saying on the phone (long before caller ID) "Hoooo, Hoooo, Hoooo's got the owl?" They really got pissed at that.

A Story of Don Miller's Lack of Musical Taste: In the spring of 1960, they changed the rules for "IFC Singout." Large fraternities could continue to compete singing in choirs, but now, small fraternities could produce "quartets" for a separate trophy. For that contest, Peter Sprague (bass), Doug Winter (alto), John Kleinholz (tenor) and Jim Deibel (lead) comprised the "Alpha Delt" contestant. We sang one fraternity song that I can't remember and the "Penthouse Serenade."

Amazingly, we won the trophy. Peter Sprague carried it around proudly. That night, Don Miller visited the house and since we were all there, the Alpha Delta Phi quartet sang him a song . . . the one we really wanted to sing for the IFC Singout, but didn't have the guts. Imagine this song, in beautiful four-part harmony:

When we completed this beautiful song, Don Miller just shook his head and left without saying a word. Obviously, he wasn't a music lover!

Also Joe, I know how sensitive and demure you are, but really, you needn't censure any of the material.

And please, in no way would I now or ever censure what you wrote. It was great. I simply had to censor certain words that might lose us the right to use the nice A.D.Phi graphics that we are permitted to use, in accordance with fraternity rules as stated on their official website.

As regards the ditty you sang to Don Miller about some rooster who had it's head chopped off when some guy was born, and then dripped blood throughout the poor man's life . . . well, I didn't see any problems with that song, other than its obvious violent theme. Maybe you and Jim Deibel can show me where I could remove a couple of "dadada"s in the "Azores" song. Just resend it with a minimum of carefully placed "dadada"s and let's see if it can be resurrected as something recognizable. Is that possible?

Eventually, someone donated a baby grand piano to us. On Bellflower, we had two pianos sort of back-to-back on opposite sides of a wall. The baby grand was dedicated to serious things (like me writing my piano sonatas), and the upright was for funning around.

The upright was much revised by Jim Deibel. He put thumb tacks on the hammers to give it a honky-tonk sound. It was a player piano that ran on pumped-up air pressure, but it didn't work because the hoses were old and wouldn't hold the pressure. That didn't stop Jim Deibel. He hooked up our vacuum cleaner to it and made it play some piano rolls we had. It sounded pretty good over the roar of the vacuum cleaner--sort of the effect they get with bag pipes, I suppose.

One other personal use for it came about when I had a case of dandruff. On some mornings when I had an especially itchy scalp, I would go over my hair with the vacuum cleaner. I remember one morning when Bob Novak and Bill Hartley caught me at the foot of the back steps so occupied. There was a brief discussion as to whether I should wash my hair more often and whether too much washing could rot one's hair. None of that was resolved.

I remember a different job that I think Joe Ryan and I did one Saturday. The window in one bedroom was broken. (How that could happen in a frat house, I can't imagine!) Anyway, we went to our favorite hardware store in Little Italy and bought a pane of glass. It was the right size to start with but in our processing it lost a corner of glass. We put it in anyway and filled the hole with putty. (Dan Ehlert didn't care for its final appearance.)

Also, I don't remember the piano sitting out on the street . . . maybe while I was in Hell Week.

By the way, the music to "The Elements" (from the Periodic table) was written by the famous Irish composer, Sir Arthur Sullivan. Now you know two Irish classical composers, Harry. Also, how did you ever manage to continue to listen to TL after he sang, "We Will All Go Together When We Go!"? He was pretty hard on physicists, wasn't he? Then again, I went on in math even after he sang "New Math" (very irreverent) on a much later recording, as I recall. Either Paul Meiland or Doug Winter--believe it or not--had the original of that one, or one like it about mathematics, but that was after I was at Dr. Baracelli's. Somewhere in my stacks of unpacked boxes, I have some more recently purchased (like maybe five years ago) cassette tapes or CDs of most of Tom Lehrer's songs--one more incentive to finally start getting my apartment in order after a full year in it. I started with 175 large boxes and have about 50 still unopened. Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night is worse than walking through a minefield--and I remember what that was like from when I was in Vietnam in that cemetery south of Tan Son Nhut and . . but that's for another forum, isn't it?

Do you remember one of my nicknames during those crazy years . . . "Shtoynfeltt"? It was pronounced the way I just spelled it too, but with a definite Yiddish accent. You guys were good at accents. Anyway, that nickname came from my grandfather's name "Sternfield" (he deliberately added the "i" to make it look less Jewish when he converted to Catholicism), and once one of the A. D. Phi brothers got wind of his name, well . . . you know the Alpha Delts! If you recall, I usually borrowed his car (a fairly nice looking black 1950 Ford sedan) when I went on special dates and such.

Well, the ironic thing is that that (the name "Sternfeld") turned out to be my actual birth name, but I didn't know it until the US Government told me I had an undeclared "alias" when I was getting some sort of high clearance and didn't include that name on my papers. I always knew I had Jewish blood from my mother's side of the family, but just assumed I was Irish from my "dad." Not so. I was originally "Baby Sternfeld" and then "Joe Sternfeld" until I was a few years old when my real mother married, and then she and my step-father, whom I had always thought was my real father, adopted me. My mother nearly had a fit when I confronted her with the information I had unwittingly uncovered. For whatever reason, the "i" was left off my birth certificate, so I was "Sternfeld" and one of the few uncircumcised Jews in Detroit at the time--and probably the only uncircumcised Jew in the Hudson Chapter in the late 50s. Sad to say, I always tried to hide the "Jewish side" of my family while going through high school and such (we all surely knew my grandfather's heritage, but my mother always told all of us that it would be better not to ever mention it) and simply considered myself to be of Irish heritage.

But now I want to know why I never had either the money or the talent that so often seems to go with a Jewish heritage. Probably the circumcision thing . . .

"Are you certain about that?" Sidney asked. "I will check again, good customer" the waiter said, and disappeared again into the kitchen.

Sidney said to Jim, "You know, you Gentiles might buy that, but I can't really believe there are no Jews in China. Our twelve tribes have scattered throughout the world."

But when the waiter returned, he had the same short answer: "Good customer, no Chinese Jews!" "Are you really certain of that?" Sidney argued. I just can't believe there are no Chinese Jews!"

"Good customer, I ask everyone in the kitchen" the waiter said, looking pretty tired of the whole matter, "We have prune Jews, Tomato Jews, Orange Jews . . . even Lime Jews . . . but no one ever hear of Chinese Jews!"

[Here, Don must have used both a Chinese accent and one--and maybe even two, depending upon how the first joke went--Jewish accents interchangeably. But, like Harry, I almost have to believe it was Don who said the joke--accents and all--because I remember the joke so well fifty years later. And by the way, the use of "Jim" and "Sid" as the names of the two fellows sitting in the restaurant were not necessarily the names given to them back in 1958 by Don--if indeed they even had names. I was just having a little politically uncorrect fun in 1999. My apologies to both Jim and Sid--and to Chinese waiters worldwide . . . if there even are any Chinese waiters anymore. The Chinese restaurants here in Seattle have only waitresses, and they are largely Hispanics.]

But just the same, let me let loose with my last . . . and favorite one: (This one not from Don Miller, admittedly, but from one of my Jewish friends in the USAF--so it's not aimed at any race or nationality--but one who was generally less than tolerant of certain folks, especially the NCOs and Koreans with whom we worked.) Most of my really favorite "Jewish Jokes" were told to me by my Jewish "comrades" in the Air Force--particularly the fighter pilots. This one goes something like this:

A Jewish father was really bothered because his son left the "Faith," and so he went to see his Rabbi about his son. "I brought him up as a good Jew, gave him the very best bar mitzvah and sent him to a good Jewish school . . . then just last month he told me that he decided to become a Christian. Oh Rabbi, where did I mess up?"

"Funny you should come to me," replied the Rabbi. "I too brought my boy up to be a good Jew, put him through a good expensive Jewish university, and then, just like your son, he suddenly decided to become a Christian."

"Well, what did you do then," asked the distraught father.

"I turned to God for the answer" replied the Rabbi. "And? . . ." asked the father.

God said, "Funny you should come to me . . ."

Okay, okay . . . is that enough? I promise . . . no more from me!

Within only one week, Dave Uscheek came in slightly high (he had drunk only one fifth up to that point) and he ripped off the liquor cabinet doors, locks and all, to get to the liquor. We should have done it Steve's way.

After the affair, Doug Winter, Russ Egolf, Tom Ryan and Bill Hartley all went for a walk and knocked on the door of the Phi Sigma Delta house (large Jewish fraternity). They were having a party and there were beautiful high school girls, dressed to kill, all over the place. We asked to use their bathroom. Foolishly, they let us. I vividly remember four guys, four streams--all coming from different angles. I think that about 75% of the collective piss hit the toilet.

Let me know if you want to hear some anyway. I call them my Jake and Sarah collection--plus there is Jake's business partner, Morris!!

But leave "Harry's Place" much the way it is, with us brothers getting together to share some laughs -- but that's just one brother's input.

And oh yes, I received a note from Larry Yax in response to the letter and print-out of "Harry's Place" (in black and white) that I mailed out, and he's promised to get active with what we're doing and mail in some vignettes of his own. He has been up to his nose working for the United Way Campaign in his city. Word has it that he's now a red-neck in the Deep South, so watch out for some of his jokes! [Larry: That wasn't serious, you know. I can't even slightly imagine you as a "red neck."]

Song Three was brought in by Steve North. I don't know if he composed it, but he did introduce it to us all. It is sung to the tune of "finiculee-finicula:

And you might notice I left in your very politically uncorrect use of the word, "fairy" in one of the songs, above. It just happens that I have several friends who are gay and, although that negative reference was pretty common in the 1950's, it is quite hurtful to folks today--and we surely don't know who among the fellowship might be gay. No, I'm not, and furthermore, my religious beliefs are that homosexual activity is an abomination to boot -- but I also believe we should try not to hurt anyone with our words or actions unless that is a necessary deterrent from them hurting us or others.

That said, we must come up with a solution about these songs and other material that could be offensive to some of the fellowship.

I have it! (Actually, I had it before I wrote, "I have it!")

Here's what we'll do . . . I will start a special site for all of our unedited bawdy songs and other . . . uhhh . . . unchaste . . . or possibly offensive materials that might best not be added to our "regular" site. We could call it "Doug's and Jim's Special Place" (or any title you send to me), and I will use your Mindspring address (or Jim's AOL address) as its contact point. For the time, you can't use both addresses because we can only have one contact email address per site until we/you straighten out the rules with Tripod--or any other free website host.

Anyway, if it's all right with both you and Jim, I'll put it up within the week, if you tell me which email address to use. I will include links to the new site immediately after (or just before) each and every song in Harry's Place within which I feel obliged to use ". . . dadada . . ."s. That includes the original Red Rydie verses that I already have stripped of all words that might offend anyone.

That way, only persons who wish to be offended (or titillated) need ever see them. . . . and more important, the overall A.D.Phi site and/or Harry's Place will be safe from being ripped down by the net police or whoever monitors the use of A.D.Phi's letters and symbols.

Your call! Just say the word and let me know which email address to use and I'll have it up this coming weekend. I'll send both you and Jim the "owner's" password of course, should either of you get nervous and want to delete some words, lines or (hopefully) whole songs. I'd be willing to bet that Harry himself would be delighted for such material to suddenly stop appearing in "Harry's Place," but rather be on some nondescript site of its own.

But whatever, neither your full names (nor anyone else’s) will appear anywhere on the new site--only first names, as appropriate—that is, NONE of the other brothers' full names would ever be on the "unedited" site, of course. Those names will remain—as appropriate--on the other A.D.Phi pages currently connected to my website--and ultimately to Alpha Delta Phi's own website--which will continue to have only the standard "heavily edited songs" but with easy-to-find links (right with the songs--either just below the song's title or at the end of each song) to the site with the unedited songs (Jim's and Doug's Special Page" or whatever you tell me to call it). Also, let me know what colors you want, etc.--scribbling on brown paper bags sounds good to me--as well as any other flourishes you may want.

What do you think?

In the meanwhile, while you and Jim think about this and maybe other possible "solutions,", I'll place . . dadada . . .s in the songs you submitted, as necessary.

Oh yes, Doug (and Jim) : In answer to your offer of .wav files, by all means! I'd suggest you either get Tom Lehrer (he'd probably do it) or disguise your voices, such as they may be.

But with the spanking new site I'm suggesting, we'd have plenty of room for four or five megabytes of .wav files. That's a pretty heavy duty audio format--even with some compression--but I have done it (I have at least one and maybe two short .wav's on my home site; for example, the hamster-dance song with the giggling melody lines is not a midi file, but an honest-to-goodness .wav file).

Don't send them to me by email though; it would be best to record them onto floppies--if they'd fit--or CD-ROMs before uploading them to the new site. Among other things, Hotmail has a one Mbyte limitation and surely--I wouldn't want them emailed to SAFECO.

Were you serious, Doug? Can you sing too?

All that said, I don't want my commentary to sound prudish or angry--even in the slightest. I simply think we should be prudent and try to keep the Hudson Chapter Alumni site a place where the entire fellowship feels welcome. I am guilty too, obviously, having included an ethnic joke or two above, so this is as much aimed at myself as anyone. I think we can leave the above material and our discussion of it all in Harry's Place as a testimony to the "learning process" in this endeavor and simply go forward from here--whichever direction that may be!

Comments? Better yet, what about some light stories again, like when you were rushed. What was that about my Producer's Milk truck, Doug?

The one about the Jewish businessmen and their party for their gentile employees is scatological. I would contribute that to the second site. The one about the two black guys arguing over who is the blackest is ethnic (and also scatological). I don't know if it should go on the other site either. We have ethnic jokes, we have black jokes between white people and I am sure there are white jokes between black people. These are things you tell with a group of people standing around that you know. I don't know what is proper when you go "public" on the net. [Referring to this vignette, Harry concluded . . .] - Post [of this] what you want. [Ed. Note: Posted verbatim]

I went to Rhodes High School. I had a friend, Bill, who liked to cut school fairly often. One of those "free days" he decided to go see Parma High. (Why one would cut school and go to another, I don't know. It would seem like courting "Double Jeapardy.") Anyway, while he was roaming the halls of Parma High during a class period, he came across two guys carrying a locker down the hall and laughing like Hell. Bill told us about this. He thought they did some pretty cool things at Parma High.

(Actually, I don't think Bill used the word "cool," but that's what he meant. "Cool" has come back in time for my daughter, Kathy, to use it--like it was "cool" that I decided to marry Sylvia and the picture of me being thrown in Wade park Lagoon is "cool," etc. But I am digressing to pad a short story, so I will stop at that.)

A couple of years later, I pledged A.D.Phi along with Joe Szabo, recently having graduated from Parma High School. Naturally, I kidded him about what Bill saw there. Joe's eyes lit up and he said, "That was me and Bob Purpura!"

So that's the story, except to note that Bob Purpura had pledged along with Joe and me. Purpura had, by this time, depledged A.D.Phi and pledged the Phi Gams, so we'll say no more about him.

As sports writer for the Hi-Spot at Parma, I wrote a little poem for the sports pages. Our Football coach had the name, Bob Brugge, and his team lost almost every game. Also our cross-country team was really Hund-scheizze that year. And the basketball season was to open with a game against West Tech. Anyway, I wrote the following:

That poem cost me my locker, which was strewn on a gravel track around the football field, and a couple of serious bruises to my face when I confronted a couple members of the football team. (I wasn't smart even then.) Thanks for ratting on Joe Szabo, good friend and informant, Harry Kautz; that "locker incident" has been a mystery for more than 45 years.

And by the way, the above poem, in no way, competes with Jim Deibel's "Amore." That was great!! -- And the unedited version will be up soon on something called, "uneditedADPhi.tripod.com." I'm working the details now. The bigger problem is getting a "Premier Membership" for the Hudson Chapter that will have 22 MBytes allocated to it for the pictures and such.

When LaVada was pregnant, as her last name was "Fountain", Harry Kautz also took it upon himself (with my assistance) to help name the new baby. I would say: "How about "Soda" or "Drinking" or "Bubbly". Harry said, no...then he went up to LaVada and told her the she should name her baby "Three Coins in the..." She did not appreciate it.

Also, thanks again for informing on Joe Szabo -- he might have maintained that horrid secret for another 45 years, the rat! Carrying my locker out to the gravel running track -- whatta fiend! One never knows the evil that lurks in the hearts of seemingly benign sweet people, eh?

Take care and keep the good memories coming, Harry. You were one of the very few on that wonderful video that Doug Winter made for us (Christ Koconis, Bob Novak and Ray Jablonski being a couple or so of the others) who hasn't changed an iota. How do you do it?

Thanks for the compliment about not changing. I got married a second time in 1997. (That's Sylvia.) We make each other quite happy. That helps my outlook on life I guess.

I think I mentioned earlier that the red wagon story comes out of an autobiography I wrote for my children. That probably got me into the state of remembering things from the past.

Thank you for making all this communication possible. You sure have not changed. I feel we have developed a meeting of minds that is very valuable to me.

And now, yes, it's coming through . . . the faint recollection of my conversation with Elaine Monroe pertaining to Phi gams and owls and . . . omigod! It might indeed have been me who . . . uhhh . . . (to use your words) "spilt the beans." (I was infatuated with her at the time, so I have a teenie-weenie excuse, didn't I?) But I'm still almost sure that she was at a party at our fraternity house during which she heard it first . . . from someone else who was probably loaded at the time, and that's how the subject came up later in the print shop. She was simply verifying what she had heard. Yes . . . yes . . . the memory is strengthening on that affair now . . . yes, indeed!

At least I didn't hide someone's locker on him and then keep my mouth shut for 45 years like some brother-in-law I can think of . . . and I'd never lead a group of fraternity brothers repetitiously singing, "We come" . . . over and over again. It's a wonder we weren't thrown out of school for such an obscene display. Revolting! (Thanks, Oreon, for spilling the beans on that one!)

There was a folding machine I imitated as "ca-puta, ca-puta". It reminded me of the name of a cute little Italian girl who worked there. She was Carol Caputo I think.

There was also an Afro-American girl whom the others called "Corny". Her name was really Connie. I remember at one time putting a ruler down the front of her blouse and whipping it around a little bit. She didn't seem to mind, but then Miss Coine, the boss, told me we shouldn't upset Corny because she had some problems. So I never did that again.

Then there was Francis Fennie. She worked in the addressograph with Mrs Gargulo(sp?). She is hard to describe. Guys were of the opinion that she wasn't too bad looking from the neck down. Francis had a speech impediment that made her hard to understand.

The second of these was Dan Conky who had a 'suped-up' 57 Chevy that he raced around the eastside all night. He would go to Wade Drug on breaks with us. He made out with one of the waitresses there. He made a date with her and didn't show up. He stayed away from Wade Drug and he wanted me to tell her he had been in a terrible accident. But I didn't do that.

Frances Fenley was an (at that time) older singer woman [Ed. Note: For the rest of us, Jim, what exactly is a "singer woman"? See #143 below; the word is "single."] who had a speech impediment. Also, no one could accuse her of being very attractive. She used to work on the Addressograph Graphotyper and always had cotton in her ears but managed, despite all the racket she made on the Graphotyper, to hear everyones' conversations and would from time to time come out and invite herself into the conversations.

"Corny," whose given name was Coranell Warner was indeed a black lady and had a multiplicity of problems. 1) she wore too much perfume...you could smell her coming up Bellflower; and 2) she didn't particularly like most white people. She, along with Louise Morris (who was another black lady who secretly was taking courses to become a teacher and the year I graduated, she, in fact, did become a teacher) were probably the best multilith operators in the place.

My memories of Miss Coine (Clareconsuelo Coine) were always that she was larger than life, being about six and one-half feet tall and wearing wedgies. When my father was in Huron Road Hospital sometime before he died, Miss Coine was the receptionist at the visitor counter, and I was amazed that she was only about 5 feet tall and extremely diminutive. Funny how perceptions are eh?

Oh well...another item bursting to light from long forgotten memories.

I have 23 cats and kittens (fuzzies). Eight are in the house; the other fifteen are outside with access to a heated garage where they are fed. The garage door is blocked open about five inches for them to enter and leave for protection and/or relieving themselves. Most all of them have been named. I wait one year before naming them due to the premature death caused by feline infectious peritonitis. Most all of them are cuddly critters (long-hair tigers). I’ve spent thousands of dollars trying to save them from various disasters, and in most cases the results were favorable.

Regarding enjoyable experiences, the epitome of them was based upon the quality of membership at the frat house. Every single member with whom I [. . . Dave Uscheek] interfaced was a pleasure in their own way. Whatever experiences I relay are only secondary in pleasure and importance.

Nevertheless, I’ve included a couple of hilarious remembrances that are hopefully entertaining.

I thought I was going to be expelled, but he was kind enough to imply that he had inadvertently turned his volume control too high during the initial startup.

After collecting two or three in a milk bottle, we decided to have some additional fun. Someone poured them into a bucket with some ammonia. After one of them staggered out, Nick Romito jumped and landed dead-center on one. I laughed so hard, I had to check my pants.

After continuing to collect such mice, we occasionally put our collection in a milk bottle which ended up hanging on a kitchen wall. After one such occasion, Cynthia, our cook, was never to be seen again.

Oh well, I guess that I’d better let you all get back to normality. I hope that all who read this are as well as can be expected.

Yup well, “poop-aahhhhh” . . . Pigovich Upchuk, the Turd

All five have lived in three countries and have passports, would you believe. Petrovich mentioned "thousands of dollars." Well, I have never put it all together, from vets to trans-oceanic plane rides, but it adds up -- so I guess I'm not one to say what constitutes foolish expenditures for animals. Lady Schwarzkopf not only has no claws, for instance, but has no teeth either--not a one! That was an expensive proposition some years ago (in Saudi Arabia not long after Gulf Storm) when she was discovered to have a rare gum disease that had infested every one of her then remaining teeth. I picked her up about a year before the war as a full-grown cat in an alley not far from where a lot of scuds landed and she had been an alley cat in a pretty awful area for some time. That was likely when she picked up the infection and it festered beneath the teeth without my noticing. She was great company on those nights that the Scuds were raining down on us and our Patriot SAMs were . . . well, using fuel and providing interesting test data for my computer models. Well, that's not exactly a memory from Bellflower or E. 117th Street, but you now have a better picture of just how far some of us have come in forty years. Any more cat stories out there? What have others of you been doing over the past four decades?

The next big encounter was living at Baracelli's. You may remember she had a dog named "Lampo". Lampo means lightning in Italian. Poor old Lampo didn't have much lightning left and at first he didn't bother my breathing much. Then Mrs. Petriconi (sp) got a cat. (Funny how she spells her name with an "sp" at the end.) The cat really got to me. So Mrs. Baracelli made her get rid of the cat. (I noticed then that Lampo bothered me too but Baracelli was not about to get rid of him).

In later years it developed more into asthma. Of course, I got tested at the Clinic and went through desensitizing shots for years. They really helped some. I can now visit people with cats or dogs and only get temporarily uncomfortable.

So that's the sad story of me & cats.

Actually I've had a hard time coming up with strictly chapter related stories and I think it's primarily due the the fact that I didn't live in the house and I always had a part time job during school.

Before I begin, has anyone identified my date in the IFC picture? I absolutely don't have a clue and its driving me crazy trying to remember who she is.

Whatever pictures I might have had of the chapter I'm afraid are gone. I went through all of my old photos and couldn't come up with one. The only ones I still have from those days were pictures taken at Joe Ryan's parents home and those are mostly of Mary Lou.

Anyway, here"s a couple of memories . . .

That's all for now guys. Happy Thanksgiving!! . . . R. Stanley

But seriously, I only copy and paste all email and carefully transcribe snail-mail so as not to lose the flavor that the "author" intended. As for those free passes, yes, that's true . . . but -- I had heard that the other movie was better and thought I'd share my knowledge with my brothers -- free of charge! I was always doing little things like that for the good of the brotherhood.

It's kind of like printing warning labels on Gangsta Rap CD's. Then, if someone goes ahead and is still offended, . . . dadada . . . 'em.

What do you think? . . . Oreon (Protect the First Amendement!)

As for the audio portion, I think that's almost impossible within any of the megabyte limitations imposed upon "free" sites. If we bought a commercial site, we could possibly do what you suggest, but the intent was to keep this entire enterprise free. Audio files of voices (lyrics are the whole point of this discussion) range from a Megabyte to a Megabyte and a half for only 50-60 seconds. That's why all of the music you hear on any of the "Old Man Joe" pages are Midi files (almost no .Wav files) that do no more than repeat simple melodies with simple frequencies--usually a single musical instrument with no harmonics. It might be better to record and distribute the songs much like you (Doug) distributed the reunion videotape. I, for one, would be glad to pay my share for such a tape or CD. What do the rest of you think?

I only witnessed one experience of "fart lighting" at the Fraternity House on Bellflower. Apparently, the year after I left it became a major sport. What I saw, and vividly remember, is that one of our brothers laid down on the couch, fully clothed, and another brother flicked a zippo, and presto: A flame that lasted abut 1/2 second flared brightly. It was about 10 inches wide, and about 8 inches high. It was flat, like a personal fan, and the 10 inch portion was in line with the brother's body length. The base of the flame was about 2 inches above the brother's ass, as I assume the gas was all in the open, before it ignited.

Now for the identity of the brother: If not for the fact that I know Bob Novak graduated from Western Reserve University, I would have assumed that we went to Syracuse...as he is definitly an "Orangeman".

But whatever, Harry Kautz continues . . .

Section 3.7 is difficult. If we could suddenly tear off the top half of the earth would the underlying core, being exposed to more "space", behave much different from what conventional physics assumes?

I am thinking also about hadrons being fundamentally different from other particles.

He can do what he wants with neutrinos. I've never liked them.

I am not rejecting this work, just telling you my first impressions. I think it was in the Feynmann lectures that he raises other theories to explain the null ether experiments. He accepts relativity because it seems the simplest. I guess that's what physics always does, accept the simplest model.

I don't think I can get NASA to redo the Morkelson Melee (or whatever) until our rockets start to approach relative velocities. We're not too close yet. I actually did the Michelson-Morley twice in WRU physics labs. Once, (I think with Paul Meiland) we did it with radio waves. On that occasion we found an ether drift. What with the nature of the equipment and the fact that we were mere students, they wouldn't let us publish. Our professor, a Joe Weinberg had a vested interest in relativity, namely a limerick:

At U. of Minnesota I got into solid state physics. This led, at NASA, to working with silicon solar cells and eventually solid ionic conductors. After that, a Weinberg course on wave theory got me into ultrasonics which is my final resting place. I might have gotten into theorizing on relativety et al except that I was working with a fellow named Joe Singer and we were big on puns and music. Joe got me into the late Beethoven quartets and sonatas. Joe passed away recently and left me much of his record collection. It's a nice rememberance of someone who influenced me a lot. But not in relativity.

But I digress.

As you probably recall from the courses we were force-fed at WRU, when elements in blowing flatus are lighted with a Zippo lighter, they are excited. Thus, as they move from one energy level to another, they emit photons of light. Of course, these photons have different colors--depending upon the particular elements and their discrete energy levels. Each element in the Periodic Table [Ref. Tom Lehrer's song, The Elements," sung to a tune written by the great semi-Irish (right, Harry Kautz?) composer Sir Arthur Sullivan--see some of the Vignettes above; in particular, Vignette #88] has its own set of levels, so to speak, and thus will have its own color.

Potassium produces blue and Sodium produces orange, to focus on the colors observed by Doug Winter and others at Alpha Delta Phi during their seminal Second Millennium wind-blowing experiments.

Generally, as people age, they have to reduce their intake of common salt (sodium chloride) and typically increase their intake of potassium chloride--some do this simply to reduce cramps at night, such as I do. Clearly, this would affect the gases produced in the stomach and intestines, and thus, be reflected in the flames produced when such gases are emitted (breaking wind, so to speak) and then lighted with a Zippo lighter.

I suggest that Doug Winter solicit Bob Novak in order to repeat the experiment conducted 39 years ago. This could be accomplished when Oreon visits his sister in Cleveland in a week or so. I predict that the gases emitted will be blue. Any takers?

P S: Note that the Potassium outer shell electron is bound with less energy than its counterpart in sodium. That's because there is an extra shell of inner electrons between it and the nucleus--same charge but extra distance.

It may be necessary to call n the services of Christ Koconis, Ray Jablonski and/or Al Hauser to perform minor surgery on Bob Novak to test the gases while still in a native state in Bob’s stomach and intestines. This will probably require Brenda Novak’s signed approval, but that should be uncomplicated. She has undoubtedly been wondering herself whether Bob’s truly an “Orangeman,” as suggested by Doug Winter in his preliminary findings.

Recognizing that this might take some time (getting the appropriate doctors present, approvals signed, etc.), I look forward to the seminal Third Millennium Winter-Novak Flatus-hue Experiment to be the highlight of our next reunion. Perhaps Mary Lou Szabo (nee Ryan) will again attend and adjudicate any disagreements relative to the color(s) of the flame emitted. Does anyone own a Zippo lighter?

And by the way, I too forget the exact color of the flame, and for the same reason as Harry Kautz gave above vis-a-vis the Al Hauser "experiment." And that's why the Winter-Novak Experiment is still regarded as the seminal Experimental Physics Experiment of the Second Millennium--and why a repeat of that experiment is so important.

Although Jon's first name is spelled without ah "h", I might have the last name spelled incorrectly. What ever became of Jon Dworkin?

And of even more importance, how did we ever let Doug Winter redirect Harry's Place into the realm of experimental physics? First Harry Kautz brings up politics (something about Adlai Stevenson, as I recall), then Doug Winter gets us off and running in Experimental Physics. What next? Classical music? Renaissance architecture?

What came of it was an enlarged version of my paper which served Joe in a subsequent literary meeting and in some course he was taking. Well, you know lawyers. I am glad you mentioned Jon Dworkin. I was trying to remember his name about a week ago. I have since this year a son-in-law named Jon. He is nothing like Dworkin. Jon Dworkin was hard to like for reasons that are hard to explain. He was really a very gentle kindly fellow but still hard to like. My son-in-law is (thank heaven) easy to like. He has a bachelor’s in astronomy. (If anyone knows of a job in astronomy let me know. He is presently at Border's)

At the time we knew Jon Dworkin he got in trouble with his grandmother because she caught him in the shower with a girl friend. I met a tall redhead through Jon Dworkin. (I'm pretty sure she was not the same as the shower girl.) I had a couple of dates with the red head and then she was going out of town for about three months. In those days you didn't wait three months. But then there was Sally Stearns. She was one of the Lake Erie college girls from Painesville. She was from Rumsford, Maine. We wrote to each other for a summer. Maybe too bad it ended. Her father was a rich papermill owner who polluted the streams of Maine. I could probably have overlooked the pollution for a rich father-in-law.

The only other topic is the millennium. I believe that the new millennium and the 21st century both begin on Jan. 1, 2001. My son-in-law does too. At least he tells me he does, and that's what matters.

But we still don't know how Jon Dworkin ever managed to become part of the Alpha Delta Phi legacy . . . or whatever became of him. Was he a friend of Joe Szabo's? And how did a big-mouthed slob like Jon Dworkin ever get a girl into a shower with him. She must have been fully dressed. Then again, if we can conduct wind-breaking (and lighting) experiments/contests with our trousers on, maybe we can do other things fully clothed too. Oh God, stop me! Jon Dworkin wasn't even an Alpha Delt; no way he could do what we could do, right?

I picked this off the website as one man’s view of what he thought the “Quantum Edge of Now” might look like. Is that what you had in mind, Jim? But one way or the other, Jim Deibel, thanks for opening up cosmology as a new topic of discussion, and asking that age-old question, “what is beyond the borders of astronomy?” And incidentally, to see the picture at the right in all its glory, you have to go to windspirit.com/rycroft/qnow.html. And gang, you'll also read a pithy little aphorism on that webpage relating to going to the edge of the universe--or as Jim Deibel more poetically phrased it in Vignette #175 (and I paraphrase freely), "astronomy's borders." It goes, "When you go there, you're here."

If people hadn’t asked questions like,

“Will boats possibly not fall off the edge of the earth?” (Christopher Columbus)
“Is the closest distance between two points possibly not a straight line?” (Albert Einstein)
“Is the earth possibly not at the center of the universe?” (Copernicus)
“Do persons ‘never cross over’ to a new color of flatus flame?” (Douglas Oreon Winter)

Still I truly apologize for the Ugly Man Contest--I had honestly forgotten that incident until Jim Deibel wrote his story, above--and I still deny ever having "popped" Jim--or anyone--during those, my adolescent days. For one thing, I was too much of a yellow-bellied chicken to "pop" anyone, including Mrs. Baraccelli, Cynthia or Dottie Stetz. Two things characterized my adolescence I think, and they were (1) fear and (2) insecurity to the max. A lot of my activities in those crazy days can be attributed to those mental blocks, I believe.

And if anyone of you can explain superstrings to me in plain English, I would be eternally grateful. I have read a lot of material on the subject and understand zippo -- like for nothing. It's worse than trying to understand Steven Hawking without sub-titles, and I am a great admirer of anyone who can overcome all that he has overcome, believe me. Just what is a superstring anyway?

But one memory I came up with in our conversation was the time that our math professor in complex variables (I said it was professor Ernie Leach; Paul said it was Professor John Dettman (sp?)) tried to "get" Don Knuth on the mid-term. For those of you who might not know who Don Knuth is, he's maybe the foremost expert in the world on computer algorithms and their mathematical underpinnings, and has been writing the seminal (that word again!) series on the broader aspect of computer algorithms for the past 35 years--maybe four in the series thus far. He's also a bona fide genius. Anyway, at that time, he was an undergraduate senior at Case Tech. Well, the professor (Ernie Leach or John Dettman) managed to slam dunk Don Knuth and he (Knuth) received only a 68 on the exam. My memory is that four of the five problems on the exam were unsolved propositions and the professor was simply looking at how we approached the problems--not for solutions. I could leave it to your imagination to guess Paul's and my grades, but sufficeth to say that mine was equal to the number of players (but both sides, mind you) in a baseball game. I believe Paul did better than I did, but not by much. Fortunately, the professor let up on us before the final exam and, in fact, Don Knuth received his master's degree along with his bachelor's degree--a complete surprise to him, and the first time ever done in the history of Case Tech.

I saw Don at a convention some years later and was surprised he even remembered a klutz like me, but he did, and even remembered teaching me how to program in binary for one of the two computers at Case Tech, an older one that required programmers to literally "walk into it" via a catwalk on the second floor of the building--a building that was (essentially) the computer.

Anyway, Paul said to say "Hi!" to you all and that he sure wished he could have made it to the reunion. The ninety minutes that I was on the phone with him tonight went by like ten, but let me tell you, if he is able to get some of his memories onto paper, this site will double in size. Let's pray that he's up and about quickly.

If Jim Deibelor someone else remembers it differently, please edit.

Now that I'm thinking about it though, it may have been one bottle per line of song...at any rate, Don Miller worked for the Reserve Tribune and had the song published in the next issue.

As an aside, four years later, after one of the Greek Week rehearsals (or maybe even one of the shows), we (Alpha Delts) and a bunch of Phi Gams that were in the show sang it in front of Guilford House to the Guilford Girls. Sadly, none of the girls threw down their bras or panties (perhaps happily so). The fact that the Fijis even knew it was a testament to its universal appeal to the struggling students.

Clearly, we needed a poet lauteate among us, but alas, we were a bunch of drunks and ne'er-do-wells, so what could we have expected, right?

Thus, "pillis."

Xaipe, Yippee, etc.

:)

But "pillis"? We are a literary society as well as a national fraternity. I had at least expected you guys to somehow work in such well-known personages as Doby Gillis, Bruce Willis or John Foster Dillis, but then our non-member literary master, Jon Dworkin wasn't around to help. He was busy lying on a lab table at NASA letting Harry Kautz test his new high precision air pulse profiler on his bare . . . uhhh . . . dadada.

And by the way, Harry, congratulations on being named one of R&D Magazine's Top 100 for this year. I, for one, am damned impressed! And that's serious!!!

Having Albert Einstein as man of the century is fine with me. If they had said man of the millennium I would have to think about it. Do you remember the disc jockey, Bill Randle? He is on the radio around here these days. He says he is going to have a program this weekend on the greatest hits of the millennium. I doubt it. Anyway, as far as greatest anyone of the century or millennium, we ought to wait until the end of next year to see who might show up.

What a spectacular building that is...I don't know if you know the history of the house, but it replaced one designed by one of F. L. Wright's school, which burned down in '32, and was rebuilt during the depression...sort of suggests the level of alumni support they must have had at such a time in our economic history. It is a bitch to heat in the winter, and explains to me the denuding of Europe by barons warming their schlosses!

What worries me most about myself (seriously) as the minutes tick away until tomorrow night is that I think I actually "want" something horrid to happen in my deepest of deep desires/thoughts. Is that normal?

Nothing big, mind you, maybe something like a small earthquake causing California to slide into the Pacific Ocean--causing global oceans to rise and for Florida (382 feet from its lowest to highest point--flattest state in the Union) to go under. Here in Seattle, our wimpy mayor called off the big get-together at the Space Needle, so all we have to hope for is maybe a sarin attack over Bill Gates' mansion. It will be my luck to win the Washington State lottery this week and have it invalidated by some stupid two-digit date for this week's drawing.

But whatever, I wish you all the very best for the Holiday-Season-about-over and for the Third Millennium to be the Alpha Delta Phi Hudson Chapter's finest. See ya!

Vignettes above the first row of flashing lights were written in the Second Millennium -- Those beneath the second row of flashing lights (below) are those written in the Third Millennium

Would the appropriate officer from among the Hudson Chapter Alpha Delts please select someone to remind me to separate the Third Millennium vignettes from the Fourth Millennium's in a similar manner when the time comes?

Of course, in deference to the US Naval Observatory and Harry Kautz, we shall similarly recognize January 1, 2001 -- but with an asterisk.

It reminds me that I have another date to keep in 2076. In the early 1970s a fellow worker, John Evans, and I invented a candy, mint chocolate covered peanuts, we called it "The United States Goobermint", claimed it was "good as gold", and got a patent. We planned to market it for the bicentennial in 1976, but we dragged our heels too long. John retired and the last I saw him we promised to try again for the tricentennial. Well, that's not a fraternity vignette, but it shows I am nearly as optimistic a planner as Joe is.

(from Jim) I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8 year-old [translated: Alpha Delta Phi pledge] again. I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four-star restaurant. I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make a sidewalk with rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them. I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summers day. I want to return to a time when life was simple. When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset. I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good.

I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again. I want to live simple again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones. I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow. So . . . here's my checkbook and my car-keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood. And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, cause. . . . Tag You're it!

Anon.

This, many moons before Viagra.

And by the way, I believe that Paul Meiland got Blaine's name right on the phone, but after 48 hours from the time he called . . . well, my memory has a fast decay rate too. And also, my memory of Blaine is that he was about five years older than me, but I guess not if those dates in Jim's vignette above are correct. Now, I can't even remember what it was that Paul passed on about Blaine. :-(

(from Jim) Just in case you weren't feeling too old today, this will certainly change things. Each year the staff at Beloit College in Wisconsin puts together a list to try to give the faculty a sense of the mindset of this year's incoming freshmen. Here is this year's list:

• The people who are starting college this fall across the nation were born in 1982.
• They have no meaningful recollection of the Reagan Era and probably did not know he had ever been shot.
• They were prepubescent when the Persian Gulf War was waged.
• Black Monday 1987 is as significant to them as the Great Depression.
• There has been only one Pope.
• They were 11 when the Soviet Union broke apart and do not remember the Cold War.
• They have never feared a nuclear war.
• They are too young to remember the space shuttle blowing up.
• Tianamen Square means nothing to them.
• Their lifetime has always included AIDS.
• Bottle caps have always been screw off and plastic.
• Atari predates them, as do vinyl albums. The expression "you sound like a broken record" means nothing to them.
• They have never owned a record player.
• They have likely never played Pac Man and have never heard of Pong.
• They may have never heard of an 8-track. The Compact Disc was introduced when they were 1 year old.
• As far as they know, stamps have always cost about 33 cents.
• They have always had an answering machine.
• Most have never seen a TV set with only 13 channels, do not even know what UHF or VHF means, nor have they seen a black-and-white TV.
• They have always had cable.
• There has always been VCRs, but they have no idea what BETA is.
• They cannot fathom not having a remote control.
• They were born the year that Walkmen were introduced by Sony.
• Roller-skating has always meant inline for them.
• Jay Leno has always been on the Tonight Show.
• They have no idea when or why Jordache jeans were cool.
• Popcorn has always been cooked in the microwave.
• They have never seen Larry Bird play.
• They never took a swim and thought about Jaws.
• The Vietnam War is as ancient history to them as WWI, WWII and the Civil War.
• They have no idea that Americans were ever held hostage in Iran.
• They can't imagine what hard contact lenses are.
• They don't know who Mork was or where he was from.
• They never heard: "Where's the beef?", "I'd walked a mile for a Camel", or "de plane!, de plane!"
• They do not care who shot J.R. and have no idea who J.R. is.
• The Titanic was found? They thought we always knew where it was.
• Michael Jackson has always been white.
• Kansas, Chicago, Boston, America, and Alabama are places, not groups.
• McDonald's never came in Styrofoam containers.
• There has always been MTV.
• They don't have a clue how to use a typewriter.

No hard feelings, mind you.

Anyway, would one of you do Harry's Place the favor of providing a list of our old nicknames? What we need are the nicknames that were floating about in our time (forty years ago--so only do your best), in some cases, many more than one per Alpha Delt. The list itself will probably rearrange our neurons so as to bring to mind additional "memories of the way things were . . ."

Jim Deibel: why don't you kick the list off? Anyone who could remember Doobie Clark's unusual middle name--and that his first name was "Reuben"--ought to get the list off and running in good style.

In later years, there was "Tiny" Wenger, Twenty Beer Ed (Proctor), Chubby [Steve] North, Petrovich (Dave Uscheek), Zeke Zychowski (Zachary), Beaky Jablonski, Anal John (real name Emil John Kleinholz), my brother Mike [Deibel]was called "Little Pecker" or sometimes LP, while I was away fighting Germans, so when I got back, mine became BP or Big Pecker. [ed. note: really!)] Then there was Miklos (Bob) Molnar, "Dutch" (Bob) Schultz, "Bozo" (Tom) Jacklitch, Dan TomkowskiTom Dankowski). I guess that's all I can remember now...I bet Doug Winter can give you more since many times he was the author of them.

Maybe Jim Deibel could get a list started that covers all of those already in Harry’s Place—for example, what are some of Sid Perzy’s that Jim mentioned were already in one or more Vignettes, but that I don't recall seeing? I can only think of one that actually might be too (whew!) raunchy for Harry's Place, but surely don’t remember Sid’s other nickname(s) other than that we used to greet him with “Oy Sidney!” in the same way I was greeted by Don Miller and Jim Deibel (after, ahem, he was a brother) with “Oy Shtoynfeldt!”

Anyway with such a numbered list to reference, we could then discuss/write how such nicknames came to be with reference to the number in Jim’s list. The list might begin:

1. Joe Szabo – Jazzbo
2. Jim Deibel – Dribble-dribble [not necessary to explain all nicknames, right?]
3. Al Houser – Sloppy Al
4. Bob Novak -- R. Stanley Snowflake -- later shortened to just "Snowflake," then changed to "nofuck"
5. etc.

When the list is put up, it will simply be put in as a Vignette "started by" Jim, so that Jim won't get the blame for some of the more raunchy ones--probably the ones that originated between Doug Winter's ears. Right? ;-) I'll add names and nicknames to the list as they come in.

Go, Jim, Go!!

1. Reuben Dubois Clark -- "Doobie"
2. Douglas Oreon Winter -- "Oreon"; "Douglas Oreon Pick" (see below)
3. Maureen Boudreau -- "Shitless" (see below)
4. Bob Schultz -- "Dutch"
5. Bob Molnar -- "Miklos"
6. Mike Deibel -- "Little Pecker"
7. Jim Deibel -- "Big Pecker" [ed note: Hmmm . . . I'll believe it when I see it!]; also, "Dribble" or "Dibble"; also (I guess) "Heinrich Schnibble"; also "Lennie" (see below)
8. Ray Jablonski -- "Beaky"
9. Robert (Bob) Stanley Novak -- "R. Stanley Snowflake"; later shortened to "Snowflake" and ultimately changed to "Nofuk"
10. Steve North -- "Chubby"
11. Don Wayne Miller -- "A. Wayne Shydecker" (??? this one doesn't quite sound right); "Mouse"
12. Tom Jacklitch -- "Bozo"
13. Norm Heyman (sp?) -- "Noooorm!" (with hand gestures as described in #231 below); also (apparently self-inflicted--see below) "Kappa-Iota-Kappa-Epsilon" whose acronym is a racial slur (see #231 below)
14. Thomas (Tom) Leo Ryan -- "T-Leo" (see below)
15. Zeke Zychowski -- "Zachary" (wasn't there a "John" in here somewhere?)
16. Emil John Leinholz -- "Anal John"
17. Dave Wenger -- "Tiny"
18. Larry Yax -- "Yaques" (see below); "Yackity-yackity Yax" (see below)
19. Joseph (Joe) Andrew Szabo -- "Jazzbo"; also "the Schnozz"; also "Proboscus" (sp?)
20. Joe Szabo's father (see below) -- "the Chief"
21. Joe Szabo's youngest two sisters (see below) -- "The Moppits"
22. Joe Szabo's car (All of these from Harry!) -- "the Dodgemobile"
23. Al Hauser -- Sloppy Al; also "Al Babes" or "Al Babes Hauser babes"; also (see below) "Willie"
24. Joseph (Joe) Thomas Ryan -- "Pinky"; changed to "Pinkus"; changed to "Penis"; also, "Shtoynfeldt"; also Joe T. Bone (easiest to remember your own); also "Ryanocerous" (see below)
25. Mary Lou Ryan (now Mary Lou Szabo) -- "Lou-bird"
26. Dan Tomkowski -- "Tom Dankowski" (huh?)
27. Russel Neal Egolf -- Don Miller would say "Yee Gods!" when Russ would come in the door, but Russ had another nickname dealing with his last name only that I completely forget. Later, self-inflicted (see below): "Jackoff"
28. Paul Robert Meiland -- "Paulter" (the "ter" was pronounced like "tear" as in tearing paper) -- no known derivation!
29. Ed Proctor -- "Twenty-Beer Ed"
30. Harold Eugene Kautz -- "Hairy Couch"; later changed to "Hairy Crotch"; also "King of sin and vice"; also (see below) "Kautzkoff"; "H. Eugene Ka-Nauptz" (see below)
31. Simon Peter -- "Saint" (see below)
32. Harry's car -- (see below) "the Bruise"; also "the Kautzmobile"
33. Dan Ehlert -- "Big Dan"; also "Ubiquitous" (see below); also "Dan Smellfart" (see below)
34. Asa Shiverick -- "Shriveldick" (as in "Hey Shriveldick!")
35. Christ Koconis -- Doug came up with something like "Clitoris Kyphosis," but I wouldn't bet my life on the second name ... We also came up with something like "Gogroanis" or "Grogonis," but memory fails me. [Jim Deibel (see below) believes that his Greek name for a Roman toga party (???) was "Koconis." -- only in our chapter would that be possible!]
36. Nick Romito -- (He had a beaut, but I forget it!) -- "Caw Caw"; also "Bruno" (see below)
37. Dave Uscheek -- "Petrovich"; also "Ivan"
38. Jim Herbert -- "Herbert the Pervert" (see below -- but no known derivation IN SPADES!)
39. Jim Valentine -- ??? (with a name like "Valentine," we should have had a filed day -- Oreon?)
40. Jim Beveredge -- ??? (with a name like "Beveredge," we should have had a firld day --- Oreon?)
41. Sid Perzy -- "Oy Sidney"; also "Sick Pussy" -- pronounced "Zeek Poozzie"( As I recall, Doug had a grosser version of this one--and I had the good sense to both forget it and to never to use it directly to Sid. What was it, Doug? I really do forget!); also "inSIDious" (see below)
42. Jon Dworkin -- "Grub"
43. Tom Neff -- "Elmer"; shortened to "Elm"; also "Snuff";
44. Dottie Stetz -- "Snuff Box"
45. Domenic Federico -- "Howdy Doody" (see below)

Me? I'm pulling for John McCain, having worked for his father before I went to Nam a lifetime ago -- and believing that if he has only 50% of his father's savvy (and balls), which he surely seems to, he'd be one helluva president. (Are politics allowed in Harry's Place? If I'm outta place, please let me know and I'll can it.)

Nicknames: I remember Don Miller calling Al Hauser, "Willie". I remember Russ Egolf chiding us that we didn't come up with more nicknames on "Egolf" which he said was really fertile ground for it. He wasn't about to give us a lot of help, but he mentioned the obvious "Jackoff". My spell check just encountered Egolf and wanted to replace it with "Ego". (That might have been a good one for Russ in those days.) Now that you mention it I remember Joe Szabo did have his own set of names for us. I think he called me "Kautzkoff". I think I remember Russ using that. I had a friend at work who called me that too. When he encountered me he would say "Kautzkoff!", and I would turn my head to one side and cough. Otherwise with Szabo I remember he used nicknames for his own family. His father was always "The Chief". He had a sister Sally and two younger ones that he referred to as "The moppits". And then there was the Chief's Dodge that he would borrow. That was "The Dodgemobile". Come to think of it, my car, which everyone else called "the Bruise", Joe called "the Kautzmobile".So there is a beginning.

[ed. Note: all of the above has been duly noted and the above list has been so updated.]

Yes, it counts down properly to Y3K^* (Y3.001k -- see below -- in accordance with NASA (Harry Kautz's) and the US Naval Observatory's specifications. If you sit and watch this page at exactly midnight (your own time wherever you are!), you might actually see it refresh and the number will decrement by one. I suppose only Harry will actually check it out at midnight, but thought you'd like to know.

Unfortunately, Javascript is executed on the server as Harry's Place (the webpage) is being loaded, so you would see that phenomenon only if your page were to happen to be refreshed from the server for some other unrelated reason. But you can always visit the page just before and then just after midnight and see the "phenomenon." But again, that's only for Harry. The rest of you need only record the number and check on its change on a different day.

What did we do on Bellflower for fun before Jay Leno, Y2K, the Internet and that occasional opportunity to slip a tube of Super Glue in place of the tube of Preparation H of one of the others in our respective retirement communities?

Now isn't that strange? I just remembered (and updated the list above) Joe Szabo's "Latin" (I think) nickname: "Proboscus"! -- with a big (sp?)! Was that one of Doug Winter's concoctions? Hmmm . . . whatever made me think of that, I wonder?

I did make a quick check of the number but I am not as precise as you and/or the Naval Observatory. I know that the first approximation to number of days in a year is 365, the second approximation is 365.25, and the third is 365.24. Beyond that I don't know. I was expecting 2000 to not have a "leap day". I thought they did that to "00" years to satisfy the third approximation. But maybe this is the fourth approximation kicking in.

You could, ofcourse, also calculate the number of days to Y4.001k, Y5.001k etc. out to Y1.000001M and beyond to the year the earth loses enough potential energy to fall into the sun. But that is depressing. Right now I am content with anticipating the big celebration at Y2.001k.

No new new nicknames from me yet. But I will continue giving it my attention.

Is it true that NASA is covering up a discovery of a white cross over the gravesite of some aliens on the moon back during the Apollo flights. Last week's Weekly World News made mention of it and the disclosure had "Harry Kautz" written all over it. It even included a photograph that it said was secretly taken from one of NASA's archives. Was it you, Harry, who slipped the picture and story to the WWN? Were the remains humanoid? Were there any other Alpha Delts involved? Is this in any way related to the theft of cat cadavers by Larry Yax in the early 60s? Were the remains feline? You can tell us, Harry; we can keep a secret.

But I wouldn't do such a thing to a brother anyway, so the whole thing is academic. But thanks for asking.

Because I [Oreon] am unsure of this, I am copying Larry to validate. Hi Larry: Shlofenzee with any machens lately? (I obviously don't know the German spellings.)

Forgive me, I hate baby pictures. [ed. note: Just among us Alpha Delts, I have a confession to make, Jim. I hate baby pictures too. Between you and me, they all look alike. When they're tiny, they're red and wrinkly; when they're toddlers, they're covered with drool and worse; when they're finally walking, they're terrors! And they're almost never quiet! But mostly, I simply get bored as Hell having to pour over pictures of someone else's baby pictures in a seemingly endless album or website. Shhhh!]

Anyway, I have decided that I just might vote Republican if Alan Keyes manages to get the Republican nomination. Listening to John McCain the other night convinced me that he is a "big government Democrat" in Republican clothes. He is the antithesis (sp?) of his father, despite having certainly paid a huge price for America while languishing in a North Korean POW camp. I too am amazed that large cities seem to run relatively smoothly, but having the local government in charge (basically) of the visible aspects of "life in the big city" probably explains that.

Is an Alpha Delt running for President? And oh yes, how does the second sentence in your Vignette above (Jim Deibel) end. Wasn't a phrase or something dropped in the transmission? Gilligan pushed for and got "what"?

It was a dark and dreary Monday afternoon as Doug Winter and I trudged back to the fraternity house. We felt the pending doom of tomorrow as one would a shroud being placed over one's head. The lab exam for Dr. Quiring's anatomy class is in the morning. The exam will consist of identifying parts of a cat which I hope I shall never see again. The problem, of course, was we had cut too many labs and somehow relegated studying for this exam to a wonderful south island party the fraternity had on Saturday night. I know we had a marvelous time because we went from Saturday night until Monday morning. There was no Sunday that weekend.

Half of our course grade depended on passing the lab exams. Doug Winter and I knew our fate was pending in the wind that evening. We had to do something, and it had to be remarkably clever and ingenious. We had to get our hands on a cat. Now, there was a huge sign posted in the anatomy lab where they kept the specimens cool, "Taking Lab Specimens From This Room Will Result In Severe Disciplinary Action If Not Suspension From the University." Doug was slightly more laid back that I was and intended to let fate ride its course. I was not so sublime. I had a plan! I always carried my books and sundry objects in a beat-up. large, brown satchel. I took it and quickly walked back to Adelbert Road to the biology building, went upstairs to the lab and, to my good fortune, there was a class in it. One more live body would not be noticed. I entered the room and spotted the lab instructor off in a corner doing what lab instructors by nature do in corners. [ed note: no comment on what is meant by "doing what lab instructors by nature do in corners" -- choke!] I quickly went into the specimen room, opened the drawer which held our cat and which due to rigor mortis was stretched out with both legs forward and behind. How could I get a three-and-a-half foot cat into a 20-inch satchel? "Ah!" I thought. Dismantle the cat! That was easier said than done, but I quickly broke all four legs and folded each one together, reducing the size such that I could rather quickly squeeze it into my satchel. Nonchalantly walking out of the specimen room, I noticed the lab instructor still reading Mad magazine. I scurried out the door, down the steps, and back to the fraternity house.

I said, "Doug, we have it made," and he looked at me curiously. I said, "Look!" I opened my satchel, letting out enough formaldehyde to mummify all fraternity brothers present as well as one dead cat. An hour later, I placed the cat on newspapers on the coffee table in the living room along with manuals on cat anatomy. Doug made a big bowl of popcorn which we also placed on the table next to said cat. For the next many hours, we repeatedly identified a mass of spaghetti-like veins, arteries, nerves, etc., as well as various organs large and small whose unique functions have long since faded from memory. Needless to say, we had cat particles everywhere, much to the chagrin of our poor fraternity brothers whose comments are not worthy of this epistle.

We stayed up half the night. I got a headache from the formaldehyde. Doug was smeared on the ceiling. The next morning, I squeezed cat remains back into my satchel and departed off to the lab where the test would begin at 8. I sneaked the cat back into the drawer into the specimen room and proceeded to take my place, waiting for the distribution of the exam. Unfortunately, I forgot that my satchel, now empty, still carried the fragrant odor of formaldehyde. I quickly took it into the men's room and dumped it into the wastebasket, hoping to retrieve it later (which I ultimately did). Doug and I both passed the exam--not exactly with flying colors. I don't know what letter grade comes after "F," but we passed it.

One interesting occurrence happened the following week in the lab. We were still finishing our dissection of our cat when I noticed standing beside me was Dr. Quiring. I looked up. He looked down. He had a slightly puzzled look on his face as he looked at my cat with the lower portion of its legs broken and dangling like a broken clothespin. I thought he was going to ask how I had achieved that anatomical configuration. I thought I was dead. I said nothing but proceeded with my dissection. I saw him pass me by, gut gave me one last glance. And that, dear friends, is why to this day I love dogs.

Just wondering . . .

By the way, Doug; you did take the pictures from the ceiling as was suggested by Larry, didn't you? Larry never came right out and gave you the credits for the colorful photography.

First, I have to admit that what Larry Yax wrote was in the highest literary traditions of our august society and thus, I applogize for my unkind remarks (made in jest, of course) above. It truly belongs in Harry's Place, the High Holy Tabernacle of Literary Pursuits of the Hudson Chapter of the Alpha Delta Phi.

That said, I have a memory to relate: Larry's story reminds me of those terrible days when Al, Christ and I were taking vertibrate anatomy and would come into the frat house reeking with formaldehyde. Al took most of the brunt of the teasing (maybe because the name "Al" gets the emphasis in "Formaldehyde!) but there wasn't a way you could tell which of us smelled more or worse than the other two. If anything, my memory of Al's clothes and cleanliness put him at least a couple of steps above me. As regards that awful final that Larry so well described, I think Christ Koconis and Al Hauser both got A's at the end in VA, but I'm almost sure I got a low B or even maybe a C. I hated that class worse than death itself. Surely they aren't still using formaldehyde on cadavers, are they? Harry Kautz: Did they use anything like formaldehyde on those alien cadavers in Roswell, New Mexico? Surely not!

But aside from that, unlike Larry Yax, I have five kitties today whom I would die for. But I promise you all that I will never ever post their pictures--nor nor will I post all of my grandchildren's pictures--at least not in Harry's Place, Jim.

Please forgive me for double-dipping in these vignettes following Larry's great (very well-written) story, but I felt I had to say "I'm sorry!" for my unkind remarks above.

Tom Neff, Mike Deibel, and I have occasionally referred to Dan Ehlert as "Dan "Smellfart". Not very imaginative, or creative, but Hell...we were only teenagers.

You want me to address that "face" on Mars. There is no official NASA version that interests me. There are things whispered in the halls. People generally assume it was made in the likeness of humans. Actually, the rumor is that humans were made in the likeness of that "face". It was all supposed to have started long ago in a galaxy far away. (Don't they always?) There were these "beings" having a party. They designed the silliest looking creature they could. While being quite advanced in space travel they were not very advanced in holding their liquor, so they brow beat one of their lesser numbers to go to some planet and create a race of these silly looking creatures. ("Brow beat is not technically correct since they didn't have eyebrows).

He found a planet, built a model, and FAX'ed a photo home. The leaders allowed as it was a good likeness to what they wanted but they balked at creating such silly things on a red planet. (Red was a holy color for them). So they made him go to another planet. Being low on fuel, he moved to a nearby planet, did his dirty work, and left. But I don't think he made it home. But, being a lesser number in their culture he was not missed. So you see there has been a good bit of whispering in the halls. Maybe you shouldn't pay any attention to it.

PS: What makes you (Joe R) sure Elvis Presley did not descend on Grace Mansion on January 1?

No comment on John McCain trouncing Dubya in New Hampshire. Being it's Ground Hog's Day, I feel it would be sacriligious to bring up politics on one of A.D.Phi's High Holy Days.

But I can ask if Domenic Federico, Jack DiCillo, Nino Arsina or Frank Koss had nicknames, can't I?

And who, among you, knows the name of the very last Hudson Alpha Delt to be initiated? And when did this happen and how did he (the last Hudson Alpha Delt) "fellowship" after the doors were finally closed on one of the great chapters of American history?

The next trivia question is: who were the Hudson Chapter Presidents for the period 1955-1961 (or so)? I couldn't even place one in the correct semester or year, but recall a couple of persons like Joe Szabo (when?), Jim Deibel (when?) and Don Miller (when?). The only certainty was that Mrs Beverly, the Phi Gam owl nor I was ever even nominated. Does anyone want to try a shot at composing a list for Harry's Place?

And while one of you is at it -- how did we go about the process of election? Seriously! Was it a secret ballot with the names of the nominees on the ballots, or was it something simple like a raise of hands? I truly can't recall so simple a thing as that. I guess it's called Alzheimer's Disease. I think we announced that we had a winner by causing white smoke to come from the chimney of the frat house, but am even unsure of that detail. Help!!

And Doug: I'm still waiting for your Producer's milk truck story (when you were rushed). That story had a particular super-hero in it--and that probably explains my desire to see it in Harry's Place. ;-)

We shall start no millennium before its time. [ed. note: . . . so speaketh Harry Kautz, the Hudson Chapter Keeper of the Millennia!]

Last evening, Paul Robert Meiland and I, who managed to shoot a full hour and a half on the telephone, discussed one of Harry’s office-mates at NASA—some guy named Richard Hoagland who seems preoccupied with that sort of possibility--and with the number 19.5, according to Paul. It may be that a correction Factor of 10^{— 0.0000000195} should be applied to all estimates of Millennia kickoffs for the next 19.5 millennia. Harry: Who is this guy, Richard Hoagland anyway?? Paul Robert Meiland seemed to think that he (RH) was pretty well-known, but I must admit to having never heard of him. Is he a close associate of yours? And while I’m at it, was NASA involved in the crash of Egypt Air 990? My favorite Newspaper, Weekly World News seems to think so, although I can only read bits and pieces as I’m standing in line at the grocery store. It certainly appears that the Weekly World News is a conduit for NASA leaks. What do you think? Hmmm . . . would your answer to that question constitute a leak? But then we are all "brothers in the bonds," right?

Ten ta-the minus, is it 7 zeros before the 195?, is a very small number. So maybe we have just overlooked him. It may be that he is the alien in our midst.The only known aliens we seem to be "in cahoots" with are the Russians and the Chinese. We seem to have to give up on things like aircraft de-icing research to finance the Russian mistakes.

As for the Chinese, well, you have seen my unnatural fascination with the abacus. My daughter gave me one for Christmas. I find, unlike computers, you have to think when you use it. I hear Chinese children must learn to use the abacus, unlike our children who are taught to push buttons. It doesn't sound good for us.

Our plight reminds me of the rich Jewish grandmother who would spend her summers at a resort in the Catskills, (with the other rich Jewish grandmothers). A big event was the day her new grandson was to visit her. When the big moment came she and the other ladies were in rockers on the porch. The big limo pulled up, the chauffeur got out, brought the baby out lying on a silk pillow and brought it to the grandmother. All the ladies gathered around and were admiring, while the grandmother was so proud. One of them said, "Can he walk yet?" She said, "Thank God he'll never have to."

So maybe we're so rich our children will never have to think.

Boy am I grouchy this morning. I better send this off before the hackers send it the way of Amazon.com etc

Still do...they either have Bill Clinton buffaloed (sp?) or he's a traitor...I could accept either explanation.

I also learned that Richard C. Hoagland is a "former NASA official" whatever that means. I'm still checking on his possible affiliations with Alpha Delta Phi. And in that same vein, I think I know why Harry Kautz had that name change back in the late 50s. If you add the letters in the name, "Harold Eugene Crouch," you get "666." [ed. note: I quickly made a one-letter editorial in Harry's name change for reasons of National Security. See nickname list above somewhere.]

And here I was chasing around after the number "19.5"! Bigger fish are in the sea.

Harry assured me (off-line) that he wasn’t offended, so I can feel comfortable with this next “memory.” Actually, the fact that "666" is called "the Sign of the Beast" by some reminded me of it.

I think it began in the living room or somewhere like the living room in the Bellflower fraternity house. After one of the parties, we were all sitting with our dates in the dark when one of them cried out “You beast!” Now I couldn’t say for sure that it was Dorothy Murzyn’s voice, but that was the way the story went, and poor Harry Kautz was called “the Beast” for what seemed like weeks afterwards. Do you remember that one, Harry?

That can’t be as bad as what I was called after bringing Kathy Stankovich -- also known as “Kathy Stink” – to the frat house for a party one time, and forever being reminded to carry air spray whenever I brought her around. Now, that was mean! The temporary nicknames (mine and hers) were meaner. Interestingly, I met Kathy through the same high-schooler who introduced me to my ultimate wife, Flo Mrazik (now Ryan) about a year later. Hmmm . . . [ed. note: You may notice that Harry's name is underlined here and about Harry's Place. Just turn on your speakers, then click on Harry's full name, and you will see that I have added additional honor and grace to our Keeper of the Millennia.]

In other matters: I remember that Don Miller would say he was confused by the song title: "Red Sails in the Sunset". He said he didn't know if that meant there was this boat with red sails that was seen in the sunset - or - there was this guy named "Red" who was going to set sail at sunset. I would say "yah, I know how you feel. there is this other song, and I never remember whether its title is "Just a Little Bit North of South Carolina" - or - "Just a Little Bit South of North Carolina." (And do you know, to this day I can't keep that straight.)

Chelsea Clinton rolls her eyes, looks at all of them, and says, "I could throw all three of you out the window and make 250 million people happy."

[ed note: Okay, okay . . . which of you nasty guys did that? Remember--no spam is permitted in Harry's Place! Besides, this might be construed to be political by some of the brethren. Right, Harry? apoligies to all. But then, it is the Presidents Day Weekend, right?]

But whatever . . . to get this thing recharged, I have a number of topics that cry out for Vignettes:

1. Hell Week (your own) – most memorable experience during HW would do.
2. Being “rushed” – your very first impression(s) of Alpha Delta Phi
3. Music at the frat house – was Tschaikovsky really preferred over The Beastie Boys, the Beatles or Madonna? Was anyone in the Frat House ever interested in any of the German composers—if there were any?
4. What are some of the stories behind the nicknames we now have accumulated? We have some, and maybe that’s about all we really know. How in hell did Jim Deibel ever get the name “big pecker”? And was Mike Deibel’s . . . uhhh . . forget it.
5. How many hours per week did Douglas Oreon Winter put into creating nicknames?
6. How exactly did the Hudson Chapter (as an active chapter) meet its demise?
7. Did George Szell (Hungarian, according to Brother Joseph Andrew Szabo), the Cleveland Orchestra’s composer in those days, ever make it to becoming the lead drummer for the Rolling Stones or did he just fade away into obscurity? What did happen to him anyway?
8. Just how badly did Kathy Stink stink?
9. I personally would like to see a really serious and nicely written obit on Don Miller, one that highlighted his contributions to the chapter. He was one of the very few persons whom I believe put his heart and soul into the Chapter and helped it have the revival from which we all benefited.
10. Didn’t we have a sort of “mascot” in the form of a fictitious name who represented the chapter, or perhaps the entire A.D.Phi?
11. What about your most memorable class at WRU? It might be one that you flunked or dropped out of—for me, it was a “D”—although I surely dropped and subsequently failed more than one—or maybe one you excelled at.
12. What was our most notable athletic achievement? (Different ones of you might have different answers on this one.)

Well that’s a dozen ideas. Surely, you guys can come up with something. I’ll send this to my Hudson Chapter email distribution list also, so don’t be upset at getting the same list twice. Let’s go, guys! We can easily hit 500 Vignettes, IMHO. Those of you in Cleveland can take the list to your monthly meeting down at “the Tables Down at Maurie’s,” and create questions of your own too—with answers! Jim Deibel: Just as Harry is the keeper of the Millennia, you should be named Hudson High Holy Keeper of Memorabilia. Just as we go to Harry when we're missing a millennium or so, we can come to you for a memory refresh.

XAIPE!

Russ Egolf, Joe Szabo, and I went through hell week together. I remember Egolf and I washing walls in a bedroom with Don Miller overseeing us. Don's way was to sit out in the hall reading a book, and I suspect, hoping he wouldn't hear us goofing off. He said he expected to hear us working.

Russ and I were, of course, tired and hungry. I devised a plan to lay down next to the wall and slide a wet cloth back and forth along the wall to sound like work. Russ broke into laughter at the site of me. That brought Don Miller into see what was up. When he saw me he started to laugh too. But he pulled himself together and tried to act serious.

Well there you are.

Is that the kind of stuff you want, Brother Joe?

XAIPE, James "Arvid" Brady Cornell '67

But one way or the other, I am glad that Jim Brady (whose daughter is, for me, a most beautiful daughter-in-law) added his two cents' worth, if for no other reason than to prove to us that not every single one of the Cornell Alpha Delts was gay--as we were led to believe. Yes, most of them were Democrats, as I recall from my visit there during the Convention, and I understand they taught Latin, Greek, French and other strange foreign languages there, although I personally think we were better prepared for the world having been forced to learn "Murray Hill Street Talk," Remedial Arithmetic and Rocky Colavito's batting average.

But all the kidding aside, we welcome anything you, Jim Brady, or others than Hudson Alpha Delts have to add to this--if for no other reason than to point up the differences between and among the various chapters. We at the Hudson Chapter (typically) had pledge classes of fewer than a half dozen, for example.

At the E. 117 house it was Don Miller's portable phonograph. He may have brought it downstairs for parties but mostly I remember it upstairs blasting out from his room in the mornings. Russ Egolf and I recalled it at the august 99 reunion. Every morning while we were getting up he treated us to "The Oranges of Jaffe" for lord, I don't know how many months. But it did wake us up.

Al Hauser was a big Jazz fan. I remember bringing in my "Lullaby of Birdland" by George Shearing and the Ray Charles Singers. (Not to be confused with Ray Charles, the singer). Al and I allowed as George Shearing was the greatest in jazz.

(I still have that old 78 rpm MGM Shearing. I don't much throw out old records. I like to put them on tape for listening in the car. But now I digress).

On Bellflower it was Doug Winter's hi fi. (Pre stereo, I think). It was a great improvement. It was hi fi, after all, and it was situated in the living room next to the fireplace for several years. It served us well for many parties etc.

You asked about the Beastie Boys. Well they weren't around then. It was more likely Frank Sinatra with Nelson Riddle. I remember that great album from "High Society" with Bing Crosby, Louie Armstrong, etc.

Tchaikovsky? I remember conducting his Fifth symphony and many other things in front of Doug Winter's speaker. Most brothers will probably want to forget that.

Music always has lots of memories attached to it. Maybe other people will think of things.

Harry: Why were there no great classical German or Sudanese composers?

But seriously, we're still waiting for Jim Deibel and/or Doug Winter to fill in all of the missing middle names from Vignette #214, above.

Also seriously, wasn't a brother or two in the process of writing his or their own symphony at one point? Probably Harry Kautz and someone else, but my memory fails me on this one. That's one thing that those of us from Cleveland (home to such musical giants as George Szell and Rocky Colavito) had that the brothers from the Eastern chapters like Cornell never had -- a real understanding and appreciation for music. I think Jon Dworkin may have been one of the original Beastie Boys--and didn't you suggest he had pledged--or started to pledge--at Cornell sometime before you met him, Jim D.? And what was the relationship or nickname (if any) that we had concocted between Don Miller and Frank Sinatra, aside from ther fact that Frank could sing? I think we had given Don a nickname like "Frank" or "Blue Eyes" at one point, but I will defer to Doug Winter for confirmation on that. [Incidentally, I got bopped off while putting this Vignette onto Harry's Place--did someone get a strange half-written Vignette?]

I was living in Springfield, Ohio at the time and Don (living in the southern California area) was planning to come to our place during the long Thanksgiving weekend. I called him the week before to review plans, etc., etc., the next evening I got a call from my mother saying that Don was dead and to get more information to call Carl Cobb. (Carl B. Cobb Hudson ‘49).

Mrs. Miller had called Carl to tell him about Don’s death...Carl was a close friend of Don and the Miller family...Carl told me as much as he was able to get out of Mrs. Miller and so I called the Millers and talked with Don’s mother and younger brother, Jim.

Apparently, as the story goes, Don was out the night before (the night of the day we spoke) drinking with some of his buddies. In typical Milleresque style he felt he was too drunk to drive so he took a cab home. Evidently he had been having a tough time sleeping and so was using a prescription to get sleep. He went into his apartment, took a sleeping pill, and as Carl explained to me, the kind of medicine he was taking was terrible to mix with alcohol. Apparently the very nature of the medicine was such that due to the alcohol mix, one could forget that a pill was taken and you might take two or three without being aware that you were taking two or three.

Anyway, they found him the next day dead in the middle of his apartment. The coroner in Los Angeles County called it a suicide, but there was no note, and Jim Miller said that Don had partially packed, had already gotten his airplane ticket and was almost ready to roll.

My conversation with Don the day before he died was really upbeat and he was looking forward to coming out to our house. Neither Jim nor Mrs. Miller believed it was suicide, but was an accidental overdose. The Los Angeles coroner was probably just eager to get the paperwork off his desk and the easy way out without any prolonged investigation was to declare his death a suicide.

For what its worth I don’t believe it was a suicide either. He was too upbeat and normal when I talked with him and none of his previous letters (or tapes...we used to tape letters to each other) showed any sign of depression or whatever it is that would lead one to destroy himself.

What is the most notable sporting achievement by A.D. Phi? Two stand out in my mind. (1) When we beat Pi Kappa Alpha in basketball 104 to 6 or some such outrageous score . . . it was over 100 at any rate. (2) The other memorable sporting achievement was in later years when the IFC put us on probation and would not let us participate in any school functions. We established a volleyball team called the (surprise, surprise) A. D. P. Club and proceeded to win the championship . . . beating even the Delts and the Phi Gams and all the other "Big" houses. The sport was not as scripted as it is today, but we played well as a team and went on to win big. There was some moaning from the Fraternities because they accused the ADP Club of being the Alpha Delts. But since we paid our money and followed the rules it was one of those "tough shit" moments for the big houses.

[ed. note: Yes, yes, I recall well your first-mentioned achievement when we beat Pi Kappa Alpha by more than 100 points. But don’t you think you should tell "the rest of the story" -- as Paul Harvey used to say. Another vignette is needed here, Jim Deibel, to finally spill the beans to the rest of the world—in particular, the sad Pi Kappa Alpha boys who never knew what hit them—and the meager half dozen or so folks who come to Harry’s Place, some of whom surely don't know the ugly details. Again though, that fellow who lived in our frat house--the one whose first name was "Don"--comes to mind. Also, possibly Blain Kohler (sp?). Either Blain or Don was the one who found most of the players, no? Can you put the entire story together, Jim; although I was very much "involved"--especially relating to the money--I really can't pull the details together in my mind.]

On the night of the party about eleven people, including Chuck Goldstein, showed up. Jack and I were there along with Dan McMahon. Chuck and some of his buddies left the not-so-lively party very early(around 8:30). The balance of us, about six or seven as I recall, were just sitting around, farting, drinking beer and belching . . . you know--the natural things we do when we’re having a rip roaring ball! About 9:30 or so we all ran out of gas and since it was a small bunch of seniors who had probably never even met one another before and were running out of cheery conversation, we decided to leave.

The Italian American Club bouncer or host or whatever you want to call him said, “Hey fellas, take-a youselves some beer witchyu...it’s part of the party.” Who were we to argue with a heavy set, heavy jowled swarthy man with a nasty looking bump by his left armpit?

Soooo, we all took about six cases of beer each and went about our merry ways.

Two weeks later, Chuck got a bill from the IAB Club for an outrageous amount of money...in the neighborhood of $450-500 as I recall, and if you all recall, back then, that was a pretty healthy neighborhood. Chuck refused to authorize payment.

Next thing I know...probably a week later, Jack gives me a call rather panic stricken. You see, Jack’s father was a bookie on Murray Hill and of course was probably well associated with the IAB Club. Anyway, Jack says that two goons stopped by their house because they had recognized Jack at the party and they wanted to get a little financial matter straightened out. Since it was at that point pretty serious, I called Chuck up and asked that he authorize payment.

He of course said “fuck you,” or some such appropriate exclamation. I explained about the goons and that I had given them his name so they could talk with him. I also explained that they were not the typical bill collectors (unless you called the bill collectors on Murray Hill typical) and that they might hurt him.

To shorten a rather lengthy tale, Chuck paid the bill. He also had his fraternity brother, who was editor of the “Lux” yearbook, remove Dan McMahon’s and Jim Deibel’s names from the 1961 Officers section of the year book.

The 1961 yearbook does not list a Senior Class Vice President (me) or Senior Class Treasurer (Dan).

Oh well.

[ed. note: But now we Alpha Delts know. Congratulations, Jim! I’m only glad that they finally authorized payment for the beer.]

As Alpha Delta Phi's High Holy Keeper of the Millennia, you might at least give us a head's up on something with the power of "500,000 hydrogen bombs" (quoted directly) that will be here in January 2022. Please explain!

People are always jumping the gun on these sorts of things. After all, didn't we have movies and TV programs promising space odyssey's etc in 1999? 2001? When I was a wee lad I read Buck Rogers "in the 25th century", (or was it Duck Dogers "in the 24 1/2 century"?), anyway, there was an episode when he and his sidekicks discovered the wreck of the first moon landing in (get this) 1948!

Oh brother, what happened in 1948? 1999? What's gonna happen in 2001? I don't think so.

From "Back to the Future part II" we see that people will have flying cars in 2022, not dirty big asteroids.

As for Pope John Paul and Billy Graham not being Alpha Delts, its not because they didn't try. Indeed, They may each have turned to the cloth after being denied the chance to wear the Star and Crescent. Sort of "The Student Prince" story.

(That last paragraph is just conjecture of course. All I know for sure is that our beloved pledge master Bruce Jordan once told us that George Washington Carver had been black balled. I learned everything I ever needed to know in life from my pledge master.)

In a recent vignette I referred to Doug Winter's hi fi. He had built that from a kit. The first time I heard it, it was in his room at his family's home on Pearl Road. I brought over my Bartok "Concerto for Orchestra" and something else, and we listened to them. I decided then I wanted a hi fi system. I remember Doug Winter going with me down to Olson's Electronics on Euclid to buy a system. I remember I started to take a number and stand in line when Doug laughed and said "If you're buying a whole hi fi system you don't have to wait in line!" He was right of course.

As you may remember, I met Maureen Boudreau through you [Joe Ryan]. I had two or three dates with her in the late summer of '57, and early in '58 (my sophomore year). Harry Kautz lived in the fraternity house then, as did I. I got a call from Maureen that she and LaRue Adams (her next door neighborand girlfriend) were riding out on the Rapid Transit to visit me at the fraternity house on a weeknight, as they were curious to see it. I was enthused, and I took a bath in the "big john" (remember, acres of linoleum) and was finishing dressing while I was talking to Harry.

I remember telling Harry that I thought Maureen was so sweet, dainty, and pure that the idea of her taking a shit was unthinkable to me. Certainly such a lovely girl wouldn't do such a thing.

Obviously, I was putting Harry on, but he was taken aback. He didn't quite know what to say. Harry left the updtairs bedroom when the doorbell rang, and he went down and played butler.

He left the two girls standing in the vestibule (remember how cold it always was?), came upstairs, and announced to me: "Shitless is here!"

1. The pledges outnumbered the actives, and immaturity and irresponsiblity reigned.
2. The university called in the lease on the house (Judge Ubell's old place) on Bellflower, and the guys had no place to go.
3. The Alumni didn't give a shit.

St. Peter is now a little annoyed. He says "It took me three months to find a priest up here to marry you! Do you realize how long it will take me to find a lawyer?" [ed. note: I think "Saint" Peter's first name was Simon, as in Simon Peter. Did Simon have a middle name? By what nickname did we call him back then, or was "Saint" generally accepted? Did the Hudson Chapter have a zeroeth pledge class? You raise more questions than you answer sometimes, Harry!     ;-)]

I was H. Eugene Kautz, but that was soon changed to my nickname: H. Eugene Ka-Nauptz. That was soon sang as the first line to a song "H.Eugene Ka-Nauptz". Others were so fitted to the first line of that song such as: "Yackety-yackety Yax", or "Douglas Oreon Pick". [Pick?, hmm, I wonder where that came from?] We also used it on Print Shop people such as "Clare Consuelo Coine" - whose full name fit that song just right. [ed note: Well, we picked up Don Miller's middle name in that, and that was one that Paul Meiland and I were struggling with. We came up with "Lee" as Don's middle name and were pretty far off, it seems.]

Keep in mind that I was out-of-country (Europe and the Middle East) for eighteen years prior to coming to Seattle and am really “out of it” as regards politics, movies of the 80s and 90s, modern rock music, whatever . . . essentially anything that happened during those eighteen years. I’m still getting used to the message-taking machine on my telephone and (totally unnecessary—and scary) airbags stuffed somewhere in the steering column of my car.

Well anyway, the message I sent out got some interesting replies. First, and surprisingly so, I received five (count ’em!) replies! It appears that Heston’s speech struck a chord. And even more surprisingly, five out of five of you guys are essentially conservative Libertarian. Adding me in makes that six out of six. Is that coincidence, or is there something about Alpha Delta Phi Hudson Chapter’s experiences that makes this so? My understanding is that the percentage of Libertarians in the general population is quite low--less than 5%, I'm told.

But even so, not all of you voted and the vote came down to two to two (a tie) and it seemed on that basis—and good common sense (thank you , Jim)—that it best not to post the speech, nor your replies—unless you so desire for me to do so—and so inform me. [Later: We now have six responses, plus one of you sent a clarification of your feelings on the issue of adding Heston's speech to Harry's Place. It's now 4 - 2 against sullying Harry's Place with lengthy and unnecessary political chatter.] Harry's Place is saved! Thank you for your interest and fear not about any of your comments being posted here or anywhere.

Rather, if you send me an email saying that it’s all right, I will set up a separate page with both Heston’s speech and your commentary—rather long itself in most cases, and provide a link to that page in some obscure spot in Harry’s Place—maybe a “hidden” link that I can inform you all of via email. Of course, I won't even post anything you might write--or have written in the past few days--in that place unless you specifically tell me it's all right.

That way, Harry’s Place is kept as abstemious and pure as the Brother after whom it was named, and yet, we can exchange (apparently similar) views on the state of the country, politics, the Democratic party’s insane (proposed) gun laws and . . . which one of you referred to "Khomeinist Christianity" in reference to those holier-than-thou folks who have taken over the Republican Party?

So what do you think? A hidden link is the proposal. It would link to a text page consisting of our chat--as always, referenced only by first name--on the various subjects raised in Heston’s speech, plus any other related (or unrelated) issues not appropriate for placement upon the hallowed ground upon which Harry’s Place stands. Your call. (Oh yes, let me know whether I can post your replies in Harry’s Place or elsewhere.) Needless to say, the Heston speech will be the first "item" on the page.

But certainly a subject that does fit both the intent and established content of Harry's Place is the answer to the question: What in our Hudson Chapter experiences do you guys think might have driven us into so "radical" a political bent as Libertarianism?

Its nice to see a rather lucid (for the most part) and correct usage of English. Twenty years from now it may be Esperanto, or perhaps even Spanish the way things are going, but for the time being, its nice to read proper English even if we throw in a "fuck" once in a while. [Ed. note: That's right! I find reading these Vignettes a pleasure for the reasons mentioned by Jim Deibel as much as for the memories they evoke. This will be reposted in "Rant and Rave" when I get the chance. Ought to evoke a rant or two, eh?]

XAIPE Brothers!

Okay, okay . . . we’ve had our Spring Break from Harry’s Place. It’s now time to get back to work and dig around between the ears trying to find answers to the questions below—and submitting them for inclusion upon the High Holy Alter of Hudson Chapter Alpha Delts everywhere.

I quote (from a previous email as well as from Vignette 252 on Harry’s Place):

But whatever . . . to get this thing recharged, I have a number of topics that cry out for Vignettes:

1. Hell Week (your own) – most memorable experience during HW would do.

2. Being “rushed” – your very first impression(s) of Alpha Delta Phi

3. Music at the frat house – was Tschaikovsky really preferred over The Beastie Boys, the Beatles or Madonna? Was anyone in the Frat House ever interested in any of the German composers—if there were any?

4. What are some of the stories behind the nicknames we now have accumulated? We have some, and maybe that’s about all we really know. How in hell did Jim Deibel ever get the name “big pecker”? And was Mike Deibel’s . . . uhhh . . forget it.

5. How many hours per week did Douglas Oreon Winter put into creating nicknames?

6. How exactly did the Hudson Chapter (as an active chapter) meet its demise?

7. Did George Szell (Hungarian, according to Brother Joseph Andrew Szabo), the Cleveland Orchestra’s composer in those days, ever make it to becoming the lead drummer for the Rolling Stones or did he just fade away into obscurity? What did happen to him anyway?

8. Just how badly did Kathy Stink stink?

9. I personally would like to see a really serious and nicely written obit on Don Miller, one that highlighted his contributions to the chapter. He was one of the very few persons whom I believe put his heart and soul into the Chapter and helped it have the revival from which we all benefited.

10. Didn’t we have a sort of “mascot” in the form of a fictitious name who represented the chapter, or perhaps the entire A.D.Phi?

11. What about your most memorable class at WRU? It might be one that you flunked or dropped out of—for me, it was a “D”—although I surely dropped and subsequently failed more than one—or maybe one you excelled at.

12. What was our most notable athletic achievement? (Different ones of you might have different answers on this one.)

Well that’s a dozen ideas."

To start, you might take a peek at the beginning we have of nicknames in Vignette # 214. Not only are they in error in many cases, but they are woefully incomplete.

But other questions come to mind too.

For example:

1. Who, among the brothers, ever made it inside Guilford Hall?
2. Who were our illustrious “leaders” (Presidents and Vice-presidents) during those marvelous years?
3. What exactly was the effect of the lead in the paint on all of us over the years?
4. What exactly became of “Barracelli’s House”? (rumors of a restaurant, for example, but no details other than that)
5. Did any of you take any videotapes of any of our shenanigans during those, our formative years? I’d dearly like to remember what Kathy Stink looked like back then. I only remember that she was blonde and . . . well, you know.
6. Were we all Democrats and flaming liberals back then? Heavens to Betsy!

Well, that’s as good as I can do at this moment, but you might also tell something about yourselves today and through the years. Numbers of children and grandchildren come to mind. What kind or “work” were you engaged in over the years, etc.? You can leave out the numbers of arrests, prostate operations and contested divorces, if you like. I will!

Anyway, to use Harry Kautz’s words, six more questions have been nailed to the church door.

In the bonds

[I think she was hired during my tenure as steward. Not a happy memory for me. I lost track of the bills and ultimately bankrupted the steward's account. At one business meeting Dan Ehlert recalled an earlier steward who had much the same experience. Dan said that steward insisted on being steward the next year and managed to straighten out affairs. I suppose that was meant as a hint to me. I chose to ignore it. I left it to Joe Szabo to take over the job. He did indeed straighten out the steward affairs. With much sarcasm I might add.]

But this is about the cook. The first day she took one look at us and said she was bringing in her daughter the next day. The purpose was, I'm sure, to find her a college boy friend and hopefully a rich husband. The next day I am afraid I must report the lass was, alas, totally ignored. She wasn't really bad looking, but she was very shy. The cook really was annoyed at us. I don't remember if she remained for the Joe Szabo rebuilding period. I know she was hard to deal with after that.

My tenure was also the time Al Hauser was renting an infrared oven and selling hot sandwiches. In desperation, for a period of time I was buying Al's sandwiches to serve at lunch.

So you see, what with the cook's daughter and Al Hauser's infrared oven, I didn't have it all that easy.

An aside:

Do you realize that we have had more conversations (albeit in writing) in the 8 months or so since the "reunion" than we had the whole time we were in college? How's that for trivia?

I think this exchange belongs in Harry's Place, but not unless you say, "okay!"

That last Vignette is only included because it brings up a question. Were you in the Marine Corps, Jim? I'm embarrassed to say that I don't know. I'm also mildly embarrassed that I spent my time in Nam primarily in the basement of the Headquarters Building at Tan Son Nhut Air base or in the bars downtown doing things that we don't talk about in Harry's Place. (I guarantee that I was well out of harm's way!)

I was always very, very impressed by the Marine Corps, but knew that I wasn't anything like the kind of men that I would meet on Le Loi Street when they would get a rare couple of days out of the bush. They were real men--and America is what it is thanks to guys like them. This probably belongs in "Rants and Raves," but it seems to me that America has forgotten men like those whom the marines epitomize.

"Don't ask, don't tell!" Sheesh!

Sorry, but I got carried away. By the way, who is "Mr. Dumbjohn"?

Uh oh! It occurs to me that I may have just offended some among you who may be gay, and I certainly didn't intent that! Just click on "Harry" below to go to "Rant and Rave" where I will attempt to clarify what I just keyed in.

[Ed. Note: having spent nearly the past decade (ending in October, 1998) in the Middle East, I enjoyed this politically incorrect story by Harry Kautz and decided to shove it here--accessible to "Rant and Rave"--but located in the homey atmosphere of Harry's Place.]

(from Harry) There was this man walking down a street at night in Belfast, North Ireland. As he passed a dark alley an arm came out and pulled him in. A knife was held at his throat and a voice said: "What are ye, Protestant or Catholic?!!"

Knowing that his life depended on his answer he thought a minute and then said: "I'm Jewish!".

The voice said: "Ah, sure in I'm the luckiest Arab in all of Belfast!"

Harry Kautz's story about how he conducted symphonies in front of Doug Winter's hi-fi -- and now works with high-tech electronics at NASA brings up a question: What would one call such a person?

.

.

.

.

.

.

Why, a "semiconductor," of course!     ;)

I think I've finally caught up on all the items on Harry's Place and here are a few responses your can add:

1. As of April, 1957 chapter officers were Don Miller, President, Harry Kautz, Vice-President, Jim Deibel, Treasurer, Bob Novak, Recording Secretary, Joe Ryan, Corresponding Secretary.
2. I have absolutely no recollection where the nickname "snowflake" came from. I totally recollect where my other nickname came from!
3. The only thing I can remember about the music played in the house was an album called "Halls of Ivy" with a choral group singing all the popular college songs.
4. John Whitehorn. John and I were the last two to go through hell week at the old house. On the afternoon of the last day , someone came upstairs to tell John that he should go home that they got a call that his grandmother had died. I'll never forget John charging into the room where I was cleaning the floor and shouting in an ecstatic voice "My grandmother died, I can go home!" That night Dan Ehlert came to tell me that hell week was over. He took me up to a Big Boy restaurant and I remember eating two Big Boy sandwiches I was so hungry. I don't think Whitehorn was ever inducted but I don't remember why. I don't think John's grades were too good and he may have not returned in the Fall. We used to call him "Horny John Whitehorn" and sometimes "White Johnhorn".
5. Who is Ed Proctor?

I'll try and come up with something for the Rant & Rave page soon.

[Ed. Note: Passed by email to Oreon and myself but of concern to us all, I know. Certainly my prayers are with Dave and his family right now. Did Dave graduate before the chapter went inactive?]     (from Jim) A bit of a sad not at our last dinner (Thursday, April 20) when we found out that Dave Wenger developed a brain tumor, and had been in a coma for a couple of weeks at Cleveland Clinic. There was a biopsy performed and the results were supposed to be in yesterday. He has been transferred to a "holding" hospital in Akron pending the outcome of the biopsy. It has already been determined to be inoperable, and depending on whether or not it is malignant will determine the course of treatment, if any, that will be performed. I will try and keep you current. Al Leonetti is the closest to Dave and that's where my information comes from.

Happy Easter.

[Ed. Note: This is being posted on 3 May 2000 soon after arriving by email from Oreon.]   Some of you may know about the information I am sending, some may not. I've taken this "broadcast" approach to inform you about two brothers, who were both at the reunion lst August, that are not currently doing very well:

1. Those of you in Cleveland may know about Dave Wenger (Hudson '64) who is currently parlyzed with an inoperable brain tumor. Jim and Mike Deibel are visiting him in the hospital as I write this, and I [Oreon] will update you on this when I know more.

2. Those of you from the "older generation" of Alpha Delts probably know Steve North (Hudson '61) better. I talked to Steve last night to tell him about Dave Wenger, and he informed me that his cancer has returned, and he is currently undergoing a stiff round of chemotherapy and steriod treatments.

(from Joe R)   My prayers are added to those of the rest of you for both Dave and Steve. I'll wait a couple of days before calling Steve whom I remember as one nutty and fun guy. I met Dave at the reunion--or so I'm told--which I have to add because it seemed as though I really "knew" him from somewhere back then. Neat guy! I'm one of those strange old-fashioned folks who truly believes in miracles and will ask my concept of God to get onto the case right away.

[Ed. note: This was a follow-up some confusion relative to an alert sent out by Harry Kautz regarding some sort of Klingon Virus that was being sent through the mails in large blue envelopes. It was either that or another alert wherein an HIV virus was somehow loaded into hypodermic needles where the needles were taped to the handles of gas pumps in Ohio.] (from Harry) All this Klingon stuff. Well, I got that Forwarded warning from my step granddaughter who also works here at NASA Glenn RC. (Sweet young thing, but imagine, I have a step granddaughter who works where I do. You'd think I was getting old or something.)

Of course she had had this warning forwarded to her. (These virus warnings are spreading like viruses.) About an hour after sending me this she forwarded to me another notice that said that this thing is all "probably" a joke. Well, when I first got the original notice it seemed like maybe someone was too panicked. But I figured what the heck, I might as well panic everyone I know too.

When I read the second notice I thought it was less convincing than the first. So now I am more worried about the first than I was before. Does any of this make sense?

Your encounter with the woman student in the bad mood was probably a big surprise. [Ed. note: referencing a student of mine who leaped up and stormed out of the classroom stating that she had better things to do!] But I suppose when we get as old as we are, we get to see everything. Getting older and seeing all these things is the better alternative as I am sure you realize.

At the recent A D Phi dinner they had asked me to bring some NASA secrets but unfortunately I lost them on the way over. (Not easy to do since the restaurant, the "100th Bomb Group" is practically across the street from NASA.) They must have fallen out on Brook Park Road. I hope they got ground up under car tires. I'd hate for them to fall into enemy hands. (Of course with Bill Clinton doing all this traveling it's hard to know just what enemy hands are). The "100th Bomb Group" , as you might guess, has a WW II atmosphere with cannons, jeeps, a neat P 51 Mustang, and Vera Lynn singing "White Cliffs of Dover", and stuff like that. I had the C-rations and two glasses of liberated wine. Let me know if the Klingons make it to Seattle. I sent them in that direction. I can't find out on Frazier because that's all reruns now.

If you haven't already been informed, Dave Wenger died yesterday and will be buried Friday. I know that Bob and Joe didn't go to school with him, but did meet him at the reunion.

The subject line means "of course" you can publish my last bulletin. I really don't have anything more from the last dinner at this time except - did you know that Mike Deibel is an artist, and that a painting of his, a B-17 bomber in flight, hangs in the 100th Bomb Group restaurant? Well it does. Jim Deibel pointed it out to me when we went in. It is really quite good.

I shoved a load of spam into the Rant and Rave Page to follow up on some recent emails between Jim Deibel and me. But so as to legitimately use a Vignette Number, one memory that I do have about both the house on E 117th Street and the place on Blowfarter: When I had to use the toilet, I seldom had to flush twice like I've had to do regularly since returning to America eighteen months ago. Couldn't you guys have at least protected the toilets from the hands of the bureaucrats while I was off doing my . . . uhhhh . . . my thing? A measly 1.6 gallons simply doesn't hack it guys.

Correction to vignette #252: It wasn't "Kathy Stink", it was "Sandy Stink". Her name was Sandy Moyes. Don Ralph introduced her to the frat. She was absolutely gorgeous! She had reddish hair in a twist, was tall and stately, and a face like Helen of Troy. She was a ticket agent for Air Canada, and her name "Sandy Stink" came from her European bathing habits. I only went out with her once, and I remember how the smell didn't matter at all. I think she was first generation American.

Another dynamite girl was "Virginia Kennick" or "Jinx". Mike Deibel remembers her well from the print shop. I took her to an IFC dance, and she was dancing in a very uninhibited way. She stopped the show. Tom Neff used to refer to "when she got her machinery moving". She was really stacked, fun, pretty, with blond hair cut like the (early) Barbra Streisand look.

You're right! Douglas Oreon Winter's memory even challenges Jim Deibel's. It always challenged mine. The name, Kathy Stink is another crossed memory of mine. I remembered so well how much Kathy Stankovich stunk that I changed "Sandy Stink" to "Kathy Stink" in my deranged memories of times past. Of course, I can only guess why Kathy Stankovich stunk so much, especially in the back seat of my old Ford sedan. And thanks, Oreon, for bringing up the John Rocker story. My views on what I think of how the media and the Boston Braves treated him are on the Rant and Rave page.

I have some sad news to pass along. I talked with Doug Winter this evening. I hadn't heard from him for a while and he informed me that his cancer (he had colon cancer a few years back) had apparently spread to his liver. At the time of his original operation, they thought he was free and clear but such was not the case.

On a happier note, he remarried Elaine and she is helping him to go through this time and it looks like the project he has worked upon for so many years has come to fruition.

He said the doctors said he had anywhere from nine months to nine years. He is going through chemotherapy now and is spending his time partly in Knoxville (where Elaine lives) and the cancer center in Atlanta where he gets his treatments.

[Lest we forget . . .]

Today, April 26, marks the 175th anniversary of the ceremony in the village of Hudson, Ohio where the trustees of the newly chartered Western Reserve College laid the cornerstone of the college's first building.

The first of a series of events celebrating the 175th anniversary will take place on Saturday, April 28 with the running of the Hudson Relay. The Hudson Relay is the longest standing tradition at CWRU having been established in 1911.  For more information about the race and it's history click here: 

      CWRU Web Page

Among other events to be held will be a tour this fall of the campus of Western Reserve Academy, the institution which now occupies the original site of Western Reserve College, examining buildings that were part of Western Reserve College.

I hope you will join in celebrating this milestone in university history.

[Ed. Note: Missing will be the second frat fouse from the corner on Bellflower Road.]

Last night we had our monthly Alpha Delt dinner at a restaurant on the lakefront downtown. Doug Winter was in town for his Parma high school reunion and we ended up with 12 at the dinner. Doug had promised a surprise at the restaurant and who walks in with him but "Petrovich" himself, Dave Uscheek, who most of us hadn't seen in over 40 years. We had a great time dredging up some old memories with Tom Neff, Nick Romito, Jim Deibel, Harry Kautz along with the other guys. During the meal Doug called Steve North and passed the phone around so we could talk to Steve. One of the things we remembered was the time you and I visited Steve at his home in Teaneck, NJ. I didn't remember much about the trip except we stayed at his house and he took us into Manhatten and we ended up at some German restaurant. Do you [Joe R.] remember the trip anymore? [Ed. Note: Nope, not a whole lot. But I love German food even today.]

A lot of Mondays this year Deibel, Romito , Zychowski and I [R. Stanley N.] have been playing golf around the area. We call it the Alpha Delta Phi Golf Team, Senior Division!