College fraternities: from pranks to public service
A reporter returns to his college fraternity to find knee-slapping reminiscing and what-were-we-thinking introspection.
from the June 26, 2007 edition
Page 2 of 3
This week, the recollections are coming from some 400 Fiji alumni (including me), who have returned to this Mayberry-quaint southern Ohio town for four days of barbecues, breakfasts, and banquets. Members representing every one of the 50 years are donning purple and white Fiji caps, signing up for golf and tennis – and meeting classmates many have not seen in decades.
The house itself, a classic colonial with Greek columns and a portico, crowns a hill above the university and below the town. It draws a symbolic demarcation line between the rigors of academia and what little escape from it there is in Oxford, a village of book and retail stores, pizzerias and bakeries, clubs and theaters.
Inside, the house looks remarkably as it did 30 years ago. Rooms are wallpapered with posters of girls and rock bands. Mounds of clothes clutter the corners. The accouterments are standard-issue college guy – black lights and lava lamps, with the occasional organic chemistry book lying about, conspicuously.
Yet it's apparent how different things are, too. A recent Fiji pledge class served alcohol during a formal pledge function. That would have been de rigueur in our day. Today it brings the gendarmes. Just two weeks before the reunion, national Fiji officials announced they were closing the undergraduate chapter of the fraternity on campus indefinitely for "hazing and drinking violations."
Outside on the lawn, where alumni nibble ribs and reminisce amiably, the change in attitudes is evident as well – though induced, in this case, by middle age and maturity.
"It was fantastic to see everyone and strike up conversations and relive memories as if 35 years had not really passed," says Jerry Hornung, 1975, a lawyer in Cleveland. "What troubled me most about the weekend was observing the collateral damage of underage drinking. As we all raised our glasses throughout the weekend as adults, I could not help but wonder how our behavior over time affects students younger than we are."
That turns out to be a common theme over the weekend: what-were-we-thinking introspection, coupled with knee-slapping delight over old stories. One group is doubled over in laughter recalling the practice of "fig leafing" – wrapping a fellow frat brother in a blanket, carting him across campus, and releasing him, nude, to find his way back.
"They let me out by Harrison Hall – about a quarter mile from the house, and I had to run the entire way up slant walk with everybody watching," recalls one 1974 graduate.
Despite such antics, it's striking how many of the alums have gone on to hold serious establishment jobs. There are lawyers and Wall Streeters, doctors and professors, dentists and spies.
RSS feed
