Memories of Misspent Youth

REMINISCENCES FROM 2000

Here is the original barrage of emails from 2000. I’ve edited out the headers and junk, but none of the disgusting details. If you scroll waaaaayyyy down (or, faster, click here), you'll find the latest batch from 2002-05. RJ

I'm experimenting with my e-mail list. I've sent some of this to some of you already, but I'm trying my address list and I'm hoping to get some replies to pass on. Some of my stories won't be familiar to younger guys and others the oldtimers won't recognize. I am sorry to report that Tim Moody has told me that his brother Mike, a Trees Center veteran, passed away from cancer three years ago. The Big Whip in the sky must have needed him for the permanent dorm job we all get.

Do you remember

Royal Oaks-Dixieland Band

Sunday afternoons watching football

Star Trek, Mission Impossible, Laugh-In

the Rose Bowl season

The Regulator

Roaring 20's parties

all-day bridge games

George van Hasselt (and what Dingee said to him)

serenades by Mike Halbrook and Fred Holmes

Jerry Tillett's barroom painting on his wall

John Fisher's rendition of "horse shit' at dorm meetings

midnight fire alarms (some of these come from Mike Thomson)

Dick Cook and silver nitrate

Send me some stories. Make me cry.

Larry Clunie

Here are a few more you can pass along:

-borasses (or however the hell you spell it), viz., placing tube of toothpaste under a door and stomping on it; shaving cream worked well, too. Far too many to recount with the "pass through" phone boxes

-"funny fone calls" to ROTC instructors

-ROTC (that would make anyone cry)

-7.30 a.m. labs on Saturday

-that chap in Upper Linden (forgotten who) who had about 20 pipes and smoked them all one night in rotation

-Walt Lamble's famous adjective "shitful". I still use it to this day; thanks, Walt.

-Speaking of George van Hasselt, you may also recall John Ward, the 300-pounder in Lower Linden, who was George's arch-rival in opera knowledge (at least George bathed)

-Also speaking of van Hasselt, do you remember what happened to Bill after he made his remark in the lounge?

-Ted Malak's hats and after-dinner naps

-ordering breaded tenderloin sandwiches and root beer in those conical cardboard containers from A & W

-how we never won the Little 500 but made a valiant effort

-how, unbelievably, we did win the campus quiz bowl (or whatever it was called), coming from behind in the last match to trounce the nerds from Wright Quad

-Al Mackler

-Ron Freeman's pithy comment: "blow it out your ass"

-drinking quart bottles of Schlitz on a dark road north of campus

-the time when Dave Stahl and Rich Balmer (I think) went to a pit cave and didn't come back for 2 days (rain soaked their ropes and they couldn't get out)

-the beautiful girls from Pine (just kidding)

-when frat rats wore penny loafers, white levis, dark blue sweaters and no socks!

-the superb coffee in the dorm (made from Michigan coffee beans)

-the even more superb coffee from the machine in the ground-floor lounge of Ballantine

-Randy Beisler

-when the McDonald's first opened south of city centre (with hamburgers priced at 15 cents)

-Sunday dinners at the Big Boy on the square

-the beatnik coffee shop south of Third Street

-lunches at the Chatterbox on 3rd

-Jim Retherford, scourge of administrators everywhere

-Peter, Paul and Mary on campus

-the three members of the W.E.B Dubois Club (or was it one?)

-the triumph of Guy Loftman in student government elections

-actually subscribing to the "Daily Stupid"

-buttering up Alice Duncan for more money

-Bill Dailey's bottle of pure alcohol, kept in his desk drawer in case of "medical emergencies"

-near beer (or better, Idris ginger beer, which we got on 10th)

- Foster Quad radio and our own Mike Comer, who had a programme, "A Taste of Honey"; yes, it was that bad. Mike was a super guy, but Herb Alpert?!

-how Bob Spurgeon put his laundry in a box and walked for blocks to do it on Sundays because it was a few cents cheaper somewhere else (he also ate breakfast cereal for Sunday dinner)

-listening to the Mothers of Invention with V.R. and Ian and Sylvia with Jetmore (but not listening to Herb Alpert with Comer).

-putting on our cheap suits and attending free philharmonic concerts at the auditorium

-actually paying money to hear the "Four Seasons" perform at the auditorium; most of their patter was gay jokes, as I recall. Probably why we don't hear too much from Frankie and the boys anymore.

You paid a lot more attention to Spurgeon than seems healthy. What happened to Dingee after he made the "oven" remark to George? That was one of the few all-nighters I took part in, but I don't remember what followed. I remember that everyone fooled around until about midnight, of

course, and that Dingee's wit was having an off-night. Everyone was cutting on everyone else until George walked in and then, like it was planned, everyone turned on him. if he had a comeback, I was too busy cringing to notice.

I don't remember Al Mackler.

I remember Comer's radio program.( What else would I have been doing on a Friday or Saturday night?) I think he played a different verson of "A Taste of Honey" every time he was on, which still doesn't excuse his bad taste.

Somewhere I still have a piece of note paper we used in the Quiz Bowl that has the score on it. I don't remember what it was, but I think it was brutal. I got of every other trophy I ever got for anything (mostly softball), but I'm keeping that one. And I still don,t know what a forensic

science major is.

Keep remembering. I've got more.

A couple of borasses to add to your list.

Jetmore registering some poor girl during the first telephone class registration attempted at IU. His phone was just one different from the registrar's number and he got lots of calls. He finally registered one himself.

I did not Thomson was pulling the fire alarms at Briscoe. I remember that Jetmore called the fire department and told that it was real. They found no humor in that borass.

Remember when there was a fire in the girls tower at Briscoe, the fire department came but could not get any pressure. All the guys stood in their lounges yelling to the firemen to "piss on it"

What about over-under full moons to lovely ladies of Briscoe 6&7

What about the Birdman of McNutt and the 5000 man pantry raid.

My son is freshman at IU. I don't think they use the word borass anymore. Too bad because it was the term used when my mother was at IU in the 30's. Today they superslingshots that will shoot waterballoons and snow balls 2-300 feet. The damage we could done with those.

I still have a tape somewhere I made of the Birdman letting loose with a looooong call one April evening. Know anyone at IU who might be interested in adding some productions values for some sort of archival use?

I swooned with nostalgia (or was it the Scotch) as I read the Remembrance Of Things Past.

I also recall that "borass" (Jarrellondian spelling accepted), could describe any long and meandering conversation on the meaning of life, sex, drugs, rock n' roll , etc., carried on by any group of AHAYHEH's in the lounge, Union, KIVA, Reg, or Royal Oaks. In other words, a "borass" could, and sometimes did, concern discussion of the latest "borass" (during which

the name of Cook was assured taken in vain).

I would also like to come to the defense of Doctor Ronald Freeman. I was shocked, I repeat shocked, that anyone could imagine such an epitaph as "blow it out your ass" emanating from the lips of a such a distinguished member of the staff of a major US university. I cringe at the thought of any of Doctor Freeman's students ever reading such slander. Having roomed with Doctor

Freeman for several years, I can attest to the fact that he rarely, if ever, issued an imperative that contain but one, quite mild, vulgarity such as "ass". Having been on the receiving end of this demand by Doctor Freeman on numerous occasions, I can verify that the verbiage was always a much more creative "blow it out your fucking ass." Let the record, now stand corrected!

To all who have expressed their doubts about my ability to properly maintain the treasured Upper Linden sign, I can assure you that it remains in its hermetically sealed container in the garage (right behind the lawn fertilizer). It shall be delivered at the appointed time to the appointed

place--count on it.

I vote on Dick Cook and the silver nitrate as the best borass of all. I know there is at least aone AHEYWAH who would disagree.

What to call me? You have a lot of choices. When I was a youngster I was called Tadziu (that's a diminutive form of Thaddeus in Polish, sorta of like Tad or Taddy). So I was Tadziu until I got to highschool. Then one nite my family decided that I was getting to old for Tadziu so they spent about 30 minutes discussing the various names I could be called and decided on 'Ted". ( In the 1950's the 14 year old youngest male in a family of 6 didn't have much say. Democracy and Politically Correct attitudes had not made its' appearance!!). So everybody started Calvin me Ted whenever they needed something done. Which was a lot of the time---"Ted take the garbage

out--Ted wash the floors-- Ted do my homework-- Ted wash the car-- Ted rake the leaves. Ted shovel that 4 tons of coal into the basement. Ted go throw rocks at the neighbors house". I felt like Cinderella without any hope of a fairy Godmother.). So I was Ted throughout highschool. So when I went to college, Bill Dingee was there who knew me as Ted so what chance did I have. Even if I tried to make a change to 'Thaddeus or Thad or Loverboy", Dingee would of cut me to the quick with "Hey Pollack, getting snotty!" ( or should I say snouty considering the size of my nose). So college it was Ted. I had hopes for medical school but than Dave Jetmore et al went to medical school with me and I was again oppressed with Ted for 4 more years. Finally when I went to my Internship and residency I made the change to Thaddeus. Actually, I should say I TRIED because now that I graduated medical school, everyone called me "Doc" , or "Dr. Malak". Yet here again I was plagued because everyone had a problem of correctly pronouncing Dr. Malak and usually said "Dr. Maaalox" (despite my entreaties that Malak rhymed with Pollack). So whatever you waant is fine with me, I answer to anything. But Thaddeus is fine.

So Bud isn't Bud anymore. He's Walter----are you kidding me ? Whist did his wife say she called him? Oh, by the way, you still haven't paid me back the $5 dollars I lent you one

nite in the "Ol regulator". So I figure that after 30 years with compounding interest and the fact that I would have invested those $5 in Microsoft stock, you owe me $387,894. You can send the check to me in any of the above names including "Big Bucs' Malak".

Talk to you soon.

First of all IT is spelled boress and pronounced bore-ass. There was an article in the IU Alumni Magazine several years ago which chronicled ITS storied history. I bet they could find it in the archives for you.

Wil (as he is known now) Siders is still the Prosecutor. His home address

is RR3 Box 2991,Peru, IN 46970.

I do not have an e-mail address for him. His son Joseph is a sophomore at IU. He was Valedictorian of PHS in 1999. His daughter Joan is also 1st in her class and will probably attend IU next year.

Lots of memories of sports trivia before it had a name (muscles on his muscles - Big Klu, before anyone else had a clue!!. .."did you see that?"-B.D. ..watching Alcindor vs. Big "E" on our little B&W TV in the lounge. How many games did Bob Feller win anyway? (284. NOT 300) The Guy

with the New Hampshire Boys State T-Shirt in "Residence Scholar dorm" Artist Wendel Fields before he was famous. He painted the picture you mentioned in Tillet's room. Pretty Boo, Cheek and Carr, the Weight Lifter. Rory O'Bryan got a Dear John letter from his fiancee so we offered to pull him out of the shower some night dry him off and dress him to "UNDO" being tossed in the shower,( or was it the Jordan River?) with his clothes on when he got engaged. The guy with the pompidor,( Tom Meador's roommate I Think,) and the "turn-table" stereo, or was it a hi-fi? Our South Bend Central connection, Greg Jackson and Phil Skinner, plus Don Hicks and

Nelson Warden. Halls of Residence Libraries and the $1.10 / hour we were glad to get. Thursday night Pizza at Ricardo's, all you could eat for $1.25 !! I wonder why it went out of business? How about Pancho's Villa? Moenkhaus - when the SAE's moved in across the Jordan after a fire,

" There goes the neighborhood!" Mark Dorfman and Lynn (ethnomusicology) the RA's at Briscoe. VB's and Alco-hall.

Two Words: ROSE BOWL*

* Largest civilian air-lift in history up to that time.

Anyone remember a guy named Herman ??? who lived in Upper Linden? His nickname was "Rainbow". There is an interesting story involving a curious injury to a vital part that led to the nickname given to Herman by his roommate. I can't remember the roommate's name either (Buzz?), but he was from Jeffersonville. Scott Lyons and I roomed next to them. The walls were

so thin in Upper Linden that we overheard Herman's vivid description of the loss of his virginity, the raucous laughter of his roommate, and the coining of the nickname. Herman was very much involved with the first campaign of Congressman Lee Hamilton.

[It was Herman Stine and Buz Jacobs – RJ]

Only some English prof or math teacher would think it made sense to spell something one way and pronounce it another. Only "boreass" makes sense to me as the official Ahayweh pronunciation. We certainly were experts at doing it.

I still remember:

-Cherry Blend and cherry vodka

-Bob Spurgeon

-changing his clothes behind the closet door

-making 3 or 4 guys fall over by throwing a "hell" or a "damn" into the conversation (after he got older and more worldly).He said he was just doing it "for effect". It worked.

-taking swimming in P.E.-fully nude. (Bob Spurgeon was in my class.) Mike Retherford said he could attest to the fact that girls took swimming in the nude, also.

-the highly efficient Health Center.Merrill Emerick had some kind of problem with his male organs and went to the Health Center. He said they asked him if he had had sex recently and he said ,"no", and they asked him if he was sure.

-the keg party my senior year. One of the regulars I worked with at Willkie Dining Hall let us use his house way out north of town. (I think it was used for Klan functions.) We wound around about 10 miles through the country and luckily made all the right turns and got everybody there and back home. The next day we went back to clean up and Rodger Smith took a wrong turn coming home and cut off about 9 miles from the way we had been going. My one clear memory of the party is Howard Draut getting off to a fast start on the keg and before anyone else had hardly started, he was vomiting. I can still see his Cheshire cat smile with barf coming out through it.

- Wayne De Armon's and Dave Jetmore's laughs.

---I just used my spellcheck on this and some other things I've sent. For Jetmore it suggests dieter, for Draut-drat, for Sciara-scar, for Emerick-emetic and for Malak-malice.

More to follow soon. Please send me your contributions and any more e-mail addresses you can add to my list.

A few suitable blasts from the past:

Jim Saltzman's roommate (can't remember his name - he was "older" with a full beard and - importantly - had been married before) telling the story of his wife's "plate job"

Going caving:

Sullivan's Cave with its "backbreaker" passage and "Berdangi's" (sp?) hole. me, Chase, and Sciara (or was it Jetmore?) going to WV, VA, KY, and TN on a caving trip with (Bob?) Beaman. I probably have his (your - if Mr. Clunie forwards this to you or someone who remembers you and knows your address) name wrong since another Bob Beaman is a well-known jumper. Mr. Beaman used the fronts of the cars behind us to keep his stickshift car from rolling

backwards.

the names of some of those caves like "New Castle Murder Hole"--

remember Dale Chase and his brother Dan "Dead Dan'l." Dale introduced a bunch of people to the world of caving.

One of the prettiest areas we visited was the Germany Valley area of WV. A couple of years ago I went through there again and was disappointed to see that all the caves were boarded up with "no trespassing" signs, fences. Made me think of the lost chances to explore sights possibly unseen by any beforehand (without going to the polar regions).

About three or four years ago my wife and I went camping in southern IN. I overheard some 20-something kids using the word Boreass. I was shocked. I thought we had more or less coined the word in the early 60's. (I knew it originated in the southern part of the state since the guys with the southern accents were the first to use it but I thought it was a passing fad) it was interesting to learn that it goes back to the 30's.

Thaddeus' jazz records

Jack's heavily Italian-influenced record collection (remember the exquisite walnut-oiled speakers, the Fisher amplifier which still used the purer vacuum tubes rather than those nasty semiconductors to process the sound - and taping a coin to the tonearm to make it stop skipping?)

Who was the guy who played the Big Daddy Don Garlits dragrace record. He came up with such immortal phrases as (for a bad hand at cards) a "gazornoplatz"

[I actually thought about editing this page to move the reference to the"plate job" from being the first thing I blurted out.]

Looking forward to seeing you again this summer.

I continue to be baffled by this parade of names and anecdotes to which I can in no way relate. i have an idea which would cause you to do some extra work but might be helpful to the rest of us. Could we ask people to list the years they were AHAYWEHs so that we had some way of knowing if, indeed, we should know these folks.

For my information: I was in Trees, Foster and Briscoe, encompassing Fall 1963 to spring, 1966.

Thanks for sending all this information. I think it is fascinating, even though I am having trouble processing a lot of it. By the way, I have no idea where I got this notion, but I thought "borass" was spelled "boress" by some just to make it an acceptable word to print in things like the IU

Alumni Association article which was mentioned.

Another word we threw around a lot in the 60's which is not used the same way now was "pimp." To pimp someone had nothing to do with procuring a sexual partner, it just implied hassling or giving somebody a hard time.

Was Rick Myers the name of the guy who twirled for the Marching 100? He was Rich Bolin's roommate in Upper Linden, and we were friends, but the name has slippled out of this overused but underdeveloped brain.

I wasn't able to take the trip to WV. Had to go home for some reason now forgotten. Do recall the deep remorse in having missed all the fun as the stories of previously unseen wonders flowed for weeks after Bill's return. (Even applying the 50% Dingee-Discount- BS-Factor, it must have been a fantastic trip.)

The guy who loved Big Daddy Don Garlits was Duffy (Bob actually lived in Lower Linden). When he discovered that Bill and I had a halfway decent stereo system, he asked if he could bring a record to listen to at a cranked-up volume. No problem--perhaps a little RnR, jazz, classic?

Nope--screaming dragstrip railjob sounds "played" by that virtuoso of the 600hp engine, Don Garlitis. The first volume "10" setting almost blew the walls out--couldn't hear a thing for a week (which made sleeping through another boring anthropology lecture in Ballentine 101 much easier). Duffy suggested that these melodious "tunes" were significantly under appreciated

by the general student body and that we should "do our part" to broaden their musical horizons. So, we opened the windows and placed the speakers facing outward. Worked the volume slowly up to "10". Drew a small group of connoisseurs and numerous "fingers". The whole affair ended with the arrival of the campus police--something about a noise-nuisance violation.

To this day, I use Duffy's "gazornoplatz" (and yes, Walt Lambert's "shitful"). How else could anyone ever properly describe a "shitful gazornoplatz"???

It was me on that caving trip with Bill Dingee and Dale Chase--Jack Sciara couldn't go for some reason. It was in WVa and Va; Chase had all the scariest pit caves mapped out in advance, and we rappeled into them all. I can't remember the name of the guy we met in Virginia (but it wasn't Bob Beaman). Dale left the country during the VietNam days; he spent the night with me in

my Indy apt. when I was a med student. It must have been around 1968. He lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia.

Yes, Larry, I do remember you. Of course I remember Jack and Bud and Bill and Jim Dickman and a lot of the other guys whose names crop up, but I just don't recall the stories. Perhaps I just spent too much time in the School of Music to get involved enough in AHAYWEH folklore.

I'm not sure what was related at the last reunion about Mike Halbrook, but he and I (along with Don Lauer having gone to school together from Kindergarten through college) kept in contact until his death. He was a practicing psychologist, along with his second wife, Bernadette, who was a psychiatrist. They broght their little girl to our high school 30^th reunion. She was just a year old. He was killed shortly thereafter in New Orleans, where they lived, sitting in a parked car which was hit from behind by a hit-and-run driver whom they never caught.

Keep feeding my brain cells; my years in Trees and Briscoe were wonderful ones; I love hearing about them.

Further to Dave's and Walt's messages, Dale Chase went to Toronto in the early spring of '68 and lived in the "bohemian" section just north of the city centre. I joined him there for a few days until I had digs of my own; a month later, we began rooming together. On weekends, we'd go off on his motorcycle to explore the surrounding countryside. At the end of summer, we both got married; he one week, me the next, with each other as witnesses, at the local Unitarian church (whose minister was from New Albany, Indiana, and charged us nothing for his services). For the next few years, Dale introduced all my University of Toronto friends to hiking, snowshoeing and

death-defying canoe trips (too scary and tedious to mention -- sound familiar?). The last I saw him (several years ago now), he was living, with his second wife, halfway up Vancouver Island, had a sailboat, grew pot (natch! how many of us bought green garbage bags of the stuff from him at IU?). He may still be there. Haven't seen "dead Dan'l" since he and his girlfriend joined us for New Year's in 1968 in Toronto. I've been to Blue Springs a couple of times in the past 5 years (took Ken Leland down last time), but the staff there no longer remember Dan'l or Jim Richards. But some of you will still remember the "dry entrance" (which is now closed).

Sad irony about Mike Halbrook. He used to sing and play with Fred Holmes; they were the Ahayweh folk singers of the day. And both died in car crashes.

If you have a copy of the 1965 "Arbutus," on page 97 you will find a picture of Trees' entry in the IU Sing that year (small group winners), doing "The Idle Poor", which I think came from Oliver (didn't go, sorry!). You'll see Walt, Larry and I think, Mike (Walt would remember).

Rich Jarrell

Speaking of Mike Halbrook, do you remember the time that he went to the IU clinic because he had an infection - a penile discharge - and the doctor there told him he either had gonorrhea or the flu? The doctor was named Poolitsan (sp?) and she was about 90 years old. That Poolitsan family owned a lot of the local real estate.

The messages I have been getting are unbelievable. They bring back many wonderful memories. I thought I might through in a few more names that people may remember. Doug Tipple, Geology major, pipe smoker and folk singer. Howard Marcum, Math major quiet genius. There are some people that I remember but can't remember their names. Astronomy/English Major from

Evansville Indiana. Two brothers from Vernon Indiana. Do you remember any of the girls from Trees Center and the fun we had in the woods with them near Linden Hall? I remember a Hayride with some of these girls. I also remember a group os us driving to Florida for spring break and meeting some of the girls. We ended up with about 15 people sleeping in one hotel room.

That was interesting.

I'm disappointed not to be getting more stories from the younger guys. Help me remember more Briscoe stories. I've got some more:

-Ed Cheek with a drawer full of brand new white socks he wouldn't wear.

-the almost total absence of franchise restaurants in Bloomington. I remember the A&W and an Arby's and maybe a Bonanza my senior year. I don't remember the Frisch's Jarrell mentioned. There certainly were no pizza franchise places. Pizzaria and Swing-in are the two pizza places I remember.

-road trips to the football games at Illinois, Michigan, Michigan State and the big one to the Rose Bowl

-Mike Retherford with big tears in his eyes when we beat Purdue and got to go the Rose Bowl. We were up high on the alumni side of the stadium because we were last to get tickets. When was the last time that happened?

-Don Hicks getting the come on from a dancer at a semi-stonie bar downtown. She gave him her room number at the Poplars, but he said he never went to see her. I think her name was Candy.

-Luke Morgan raiding a hearts game that had a whole lot of pennies at stake.

-having to yell "showers" when you flushed the john to keep someone from getting scalded

-"Gore, I lied" (Dave Jetmore quote)

-Roberto Nodal's response to Dingee's asking him "Are you getting any, Roberto?"

-I remember getting thrown in the tub for saying I had been in a room with some guy who had convinced a girl at Briscoe to stand in the window and take off her clothes (while a bunch of us watched through a telescope.) I don't think I knew the guy, but I think I remember Dingee was in the room but doing nothing to defend me when Mike Retherford and a bunch of others called me a "lyin' fucker" and threw me in the tub. That lie was true.

-Does anyone else remember Ralph Farmer? I vaguely remembered the guy when I saw that he had been cut up and stuck in the trunk of a car which was found in Wisconsin about 1970 or 1971. He would have been at Briscoe and a Residence Scholar in 1966 or 1967.

- Jarrell and Ron Freeman trying to convince some stonies (at Rod's 400 Club?) that Ron was an Indian prince and trying to pass off his German as Sanskrit.

I CAN'T BELIEVE THE NUMBER OF E-MAILS YOU'VE BEEN GETTING. I'M RETIRED,BUT THESE GUYS HAVE WAY TOO MUCH TIME ON THEIR HANDS.

I AGREE WITH WALT LAMBLE. I CAN'T REMEMBER HALF THE STORIES BEING RELATED. I THOUGHT MY ALZEIMERS MUST BE AT AN ADVANCED STAGE.

AS FAR AS TED "POLE-LOCK " MALAK, MY FIRST WIFE CALLS ME ASSHOLE. MY SECOND CALLS ME WALT. BUD SEEMED OUT OF PLACE IN THE BUSINESS WORLD. I REMEMBER ALL THE CARD GAMES-BRIDGE, HEARTS AND PINOCHLE. I ALSO REMEMBER CROWDING AROUND A B/W TV IN MY ROOM TO WATCH BATMAN AND CLUNIE SCHEDULING HIS CLASSES AROUND JEOPARDY.

I'M CURRENTLY IN FLORIDA ATTENDING BASEBALL SPRING TRAINING. IF ANYONE IS IN FLORIDA IN MARCH,CALL ME AT 813-659-3285 AND WE CAN GO TO A GAME. I'M IN PLANT CITY WHICH IS HALFWAY BETWEEN TAMPA AND ORLANDO.THAT'S ALL FOR NOW.

My son hired a geologist to take some test borings for gravel deposits on a farm last winter--to my surprise, the geologist knew Dan Chase and Jim Richards; I think they both are geologists now.

Richards, Chase, and I found a wild cave in the spring of 66 and set out to map it; Dale had a crude-ass compass and a hundred foot tape (no shit).

He would make sightings on my carbide light and then we measured it--it ended

up being two and a half miles of passage. We called the cave Canto V11--I had been reading Dante's Inferno at the time and this portion was where all the heretics were kept. I even have a map of the cave around here somewhere (or maybe my first wife has it).

I haven't been back to Blue Springs since that time. I remember it was the first time I saw blind cave fish and crayfish.

My last memory of Mike Holbrook was someone talked him into doing a 6 man lift. Remember that? You laid down on the floor and guys would lay on your arms and legs and you would try to lift them--and when you couldn't someone would cover your ass with shaving cream before letting you up? Mike was a good and gentle guy--I am sorry he's gone.

Hey Bud, Do you remember all thos pinochle games on Sunday? The dorm didn't serve an evening meal on Sunday, so we would buy meat, cheese, and bread and make sandwiches in the dorm.

We would smuggle in beer--I remember going with Bill and Jack to get the beer; it was in those little squat bottles. Three bottles would fit down each arm of your coat, but someone would

have to open the dorm door for you or the bottles would fall out.

Those were good times in Dingee and Sciara's room drinking beer.

Another well-used Jetmoreism: "you're such a kid!" "I'll be dipped in owl shit"

Dave (since I know this will get forwarded to you) - did you achieve your lifetime ambition to be a "rounder"?

Further to Larry's lament about the lack of fast food, here is a compendium of Food and Drink at Old IU.

During my first year of existence, I was evidently very colicky. The doctor told my mother she was starving me; I've obviously been compensating ever since, which is why I recall food and drink in Bloomington more than Larry does. Here is a trip down memory lane...

Where we drank:

-Well, Dave J. and friends obviously drank in their rooms. The rest of us were too moral and drove into the country.

-Nick's (what more can I say?). I was so pleased to get a free beer on my 21st birthday, despite having drunk there for three years.

-The Reg. Older Ahaywehs will remember the Kirkwood location; younger ones the new location (I think it's a real estate office now, sigh). Everyone will remember "dark frosties" and burger baskets with chips and pickles.

-The Starlight.Very grungy but a good place to dance. A V.R. hangout.

-The Royal Oaks. Dixieland and "Jimmy Cool" (Ron F. take note)

-Rod's 400 Club (what were we thinking, Ron?)

-Fran's Lounge. Nice quiet place up north. When Alice and I broke up, I took Ken Leland along so I could get seriously drunk. At the end of the night, HE was seriously drunk, I was maudlin and I took him home.

-For a brief time, there was also a place south of the square that had an old chap playing ragtime on a piano with thumbtacks on the hammers. One night I was there and at the next table some nerd was playing "air piano" while his date looked like dying of boredom and I thought "what am I doing here?"

Where we ate:

-snack bars, of course, in Trees, then Foster became the snacking centre of record. Food entirely forgettable in both locations.

-The Commons every day, and the Kiva on weekends when we were feeling "bohemian"

-the Tudor Room for Sunday buffet when we had brass in pocket.

-the IMU cafeteria, after you sold some textbooks to eat.

-the dorm, of course. All the milk you could drink. On Saturdays, you could eat all the burgers, pork BBQ sandwiches and sloppy joes you could down. Any other day, one meat (except Randy Beisler could have all he wanted). Around Christmas one year, they served cornish hens (BIG DEAL), and Mike Retherford and I and a few others were "dining" and watching a table of

girls nearby; one had her legs spread rather far apart, and we were happily shooting some beaver until one of her friends figured out all the stares.

-The Gables. Super club sandwiches and the large photo of the IU football team from 1926 or something (probably the only one that ever won a whole season). Long since gone, but has now been reincarnated; not too bad for Bloomington. They still have the photo.

-The Chatterbox on 3rd. Food was lousy but Fred Holmes worked there and you could always chat with him.

-Pizza. Yes, there was (and still is) the Pizzeria. There was also, for a short time, a place almost next to the Von Lee, the Old Towne, which served a fabulous pizza. Another spot on 3rd, just east of Jordan, did subs with a tomato sauce, heated in foil. When you eat at Subway, it makes you cry.

-McDonalds and Arby's, rather late in our careers. The fast food joint of choice for cavers was the Big Wheel at the north end. A & W for takeout, of course. There must have been a chinese takeout in Bloomington, but if there was, I don't know about it.

-Big Boy on the square; it later became Sully's Oaken Bucket.

-Spudnuts donuts on Kirkwood

-There was also a place (forgotten the name) on 3rd at the bypass – later became a Red Lobster – which claimed to be patterned after some place in Hollywood.

-When you were really feeling flush (and had transport), off you went to the Nashville House in Nashville for the fried biscuits and apple butter.

-I had 6 messages this morning. It was obviously a typical big Ahayweh Friday night. (I was carousing at March Madness at my kids' elementary school.)

-Does a plate job involve false teeth?

-I was not lamenting the lack of fast food restaurants. I think it is criminal to have a Taco Bell and a McDonald's on Kirkwood. And where in the hell did you get the money to eat at all of those places?

.Larry Clunie

-I remember getting thrown in the tub for saying I had been in a room with some guy who had convinced a girl at Briscoe to stand in the window and take off her clothes (while a bunch of us watched through a telescope.) I don't think I knew the guy, but I think I remember Dingee

was in the room but doing nothing to defend me when Mike Retherford and a bunch of others called me a "lyin' fucker" and threw me in the tub. That lie was true.

You were telling the truth, Larry. I was in that room also fighting for telescope time. We used to keep a sharp eye on the girl's dorm. I remember when my parents finally visited in the spring of '66 (probably parent's day or something), my mother inquired about the binoculars on the windowsill of the room I shared with Ron Freeman; I told her I was taking a birdwatching class.

More memories:

Remember how the men and women were kept totally separated in the dorms? I was amazed when I took my oldest son to college--we had unloaded his shit and I was taking a leak in the bathroom when a coed walked past me to use one of the stalls! In those days (olden times) the girls had to be back at the dorm at a certain time (midnight?) and the men had to leave. I remember dating girl from Briscoe (Shirley something) and standing there with a hundred other couples---making out (remember that term) up until the last minute; then they were all sent up the elevators (while we headed for the showers).

The Briscoe quiz bowl team--it was me, Jarrell, and (who else, Rich?) When we appeared John Pont was the quizmaster. We were up against some sorority and got our asses waxed. (Jeez, maybe I should have left that memory buried).

My roommate Ron Freeman. He could nap in 11 seconds--always laid on his back with one arm across his eyes. He taught me how to split paper matches so they lasted longer (and other important shit).

Who was the guy who was a physics major and kind of the resident science genius who was rumored to have flunked freshman English composition 5 times?

Who was the guy who had to go to the infirmary after a date because of a tight foreskin? I remember him getting mad as hell because his roommate told everyone that he got so excited picking the girl up he got his dick caught in the car door.

Modesty prevents me from telling how the next year's quiz bowl team did. I have a serious question. I looked up an old girl friend's name on the IU alumni page and it listed her as deceased. Does anyone know how to find some information on the internet about the circumstances of a person's death? I hadn't talked to her in 25 years, but I wasn't ready for her to be dead yet.

No one has mentioned the road trips we made in 67 to the IU away football games. Who was it who bare-assed mooned the old women out the back window of my 63 VW on I-69? How about the trip to Illinois when I think it was Thomson or Stahl had made some homemade hard cider for trip and someone got seriously ill in the car.

When I took Aaron to visit IU before his senior year in high school, we stopped at Briscoe. Even though it wasn't open, a maintenance guy who worked there since it first opened took us up to the room that Mike and I shared. He remembered the Resident Scholarship program. Maybe because of all the damage we did with the new invention of superballs. The phone boxes no longer exist in the walls. So much for progress. There is still a resident scholarship program in what used to be GRC. It is now open to students from out of state.

I remember that we used to have really good intramural teams, basketball, flag football, and softball.

Tears almost came to my eyes when read your quote of Jetmore's "Gore, I lied." I remember rolling on the floor in laughter when he first said it with an absolutely straight face. I think Gore thought he was going to join a group for Sunday dinner or something and they left without him. Didn't David Stahl and Mike Thomson get caught in a cave one night during a heavy rain and have to spend the night?

If I remember correctly being thrown in the tub did not have to be for a serious crime. It still seems to be the appropriate punishment for lying about naked co-ed. The Jordan River was used for much more important events.

Also tell Walter Lambert that he studied too hard and that is why he does not remember the stories. I seems to me that he caught me and my girlfiend trying to discover carnal pleasures in the Briscoe lounge after Sunday breakfast. We were just having dessert.

I am proud to say that my son is maintaining our valued traditions. He and several friends have already been chased but not caught for launching water balloons at passing patrol cars. Campus cops now carry guns. Now that is scary!

You've got the team right . Dick was my roommate, but he was hard to talk to. I saw him in Indianapolis several years ago. He is a librarian-historian in Vincennes. The alumni listing was no help except that it had her birthday. She joined a sorority, which was a good clue that we were a mismatch, and my next step is to check with them. Keep the messages coming.

HAS ANYONE HEARD FROM MY FORMER ROOMMATE-MARVIN OGLE? HE WOULD HAVE GRADUATED IN 1965.

I USED TO COME TO SPRING TRAINING HOPING TO LAND MARGE AS MY SECOND WIFE BUT ALAS SHE SOLD THE TEAM. NOW ITS JUST FOR THE BASEBALL.

I think IU was trying out an early version of Computer Date Match on Bud. His roommate when I got to Upper Linden was Marvin Ogle. I remember his shrine to Marilyn Monroe and his liking to go out drinking with his high school sister. To a freshman, Marv was kind of scary. Only later did I learn that Bud had requested him for a roommate the second year. At Briscoe they matched him with a a prospective medical-missionary with a bunch of alarm clocks and four years worth of credits that wouldn't transfer from a Christian college in Kentucky.

IU's alumni page lists a Marvin Eugene Ogle, Jr., who lives in Carmel, has some kind of medical degree from the 1970's and works at IUPUI. That didn't sound like our Marv.

Yep, I remember the Illinois game and the hard cider. We brewed the stuff for a week in the fridge in the lounge. A couple of bottles exploded; what a mess. The deal was everyone had to drink a glass full for every point scored. IU did well that day and everyone was blitzed (and hung over the next day). Can't remember who got sick on way home but that was a mess too.

I'm sure the mooning was another result of the cider.

A few questions or thoughts that have popped into my mind:

Does anyone know anything about my rroommate, George Hart? Good guy.

There was a very young man who was with us that first year in Briscoe. He graduated from high school at age 16, and I think may have been only 16 when he started school. Can't remember a name. He was in San Francisco working as a nurse with AIDS patients the last I heard.

Harry Midema--heck of a sax player.

Whoever wrote the comment that Mike (Halbrook) was a gentle guy, thanks. He would have been very pleased that someone thought of him that way. You are right.

Mike (Retherford) I have absolutely no memory of interrupting a tryst between you and your lady in the Briscoe lounge. Of course, I don't remember coining the word "shitful" either.

Don Lauer's UL roommate who took off during finals week to go visit his girl friend in Holland, Michigan. He wasn't with us long, as i recall.

The guy who lived right across the hall from Don Lauer who was paralyzed in a swimming accident, I believe at the quarries. Anyone know the story on him since the accident?

I remember a party at Briscoe where we decorated the lounge like a speakeasy. The theme was probably the 30's or prohibition or gangsters. Or something like that. I remember it as a good time, but as is common with me and notalgia, I can't remember much else.

I remember a week-long euchre/bridge marathon during my Briscoe year.

Well, that's a lot of nothing, but it was all floating around in my mind. Whoever said I didn't remember much because I was studying all the time has forgotten at least one set of facts.

All of these Ahayweh messages flying back and forth have been very enjoyable. Thank you for being the conduit for them. I was not part of the Upper Linden crowd so many of the name mentioned I do not know. However, I do know a lot of the Briscoe crowd and am looking forward to hearing from some of them.

I remember you, Larry, mooning a car load of us on a Los Angeles freeway during the Rose Bowl road trip. It was broad daylight and I have the picture to prove it.

I remember helping Bud Wiseman celebrate a special occasion (was it an engagement?) by assisting in the tubbing process. He ran into me literally late that night while trying to make a break for it. Said something about he would "have gotten away if I hadn't filled the whole

damn hallway" or something like that. I just held on to him and yelled for the rest of the guys to come and get him.

I remember a dripping wet Ron Price standing nude on the bed in front of the window in his room, his newly casted arm wrapped in plastic, demanding to have his stolen towel returned to him. He only calmed down when we reminded him that the curtains were open and that the girls

across the way must be getting an eyeful. We assured him that his bright red hair and arm cast would not make him easily identified by the young ladies the next day.

I remember Wally studying in the restroom because the light was better.

I remember some great water fights between the 6th and 7th floors and borrowing fans to help dry out the carpet.

I remember a group of us stacking empty beer cans up in front of Luke Morgan's door in the middle of the night and then calling him on the phone to respond to a dorm emergency.

I remember helping George Hart close down the Royal Oaks on more than one occasion after being awakened from a sound sleep and asked to accompany him.

I remember Courtney Lamb always being a sharp dresser and always having a girl friend. I also remember "pennying" him in his room on more than one occasion.

I remember assisting in the education of the two students from Saudi Arabia on the seventh floor. They learned that the toilet seats were to sit on not stand on and that their prayer rugs used as a wall decoration got them a lot less grief than actually using them for prayer. It seems like Retherford and Thompson were active in this educational project.

I remember miniature golf tournaments in the hallways. Borrowing light fixtures from the hallways on other floors at 3:00 AM when ours would get broken during frisbie contests.

I remember Luke Morgan busting Jack Johnson in the room for drinking.

I remember someone cooking spaghetti in an army helmet on Sunday nights. Who was that?

I remember Dick Cook going up and down the halls saying "Follow me, men!" because the toll on second lieutenants in Viet Nam was so high he was afraid he would only get to say it once.

I remember Nelson Warden (sp?) going around reciting his Bible verse of the day. Most of us were not very encouraging of this practice. He also came up with "Semper ubi sub ubi." The very rough translation is always wear underwear. I have no idea of the spelling since I never

took Latin.

I remember Jim Stoneburner going around yelling "Go Bama." He also took some heat about the Hoosier Hundred performances.

I remember that watching Star Trek required the boys and girls to watch it in the own lounges and then go out on dates since the common lounges were not large enough for them to watch it together.

And I remember that you were not alone, Larry, in getting back to the dorm each day to watch Jeopardy. It seems like there were a lot of guys there most days.

And I am still waiting to inherit the vast Anheiser-Busch holdings as predicted by Tom P. Who was it that was to become a Trappist monk?

Well there are a few memories of the Briscoe years of 1966-1968. There have to more of you guys out there from this era. Let's hear from you guys.

These two guys out in the woods hunting come across a hole in the ground. It's about three feet across, but it's so deep that they can't see the bottom, so they drop a rock into it, but there's no sound. So they drop a BIG rock; and still no sound. So they go looking for something larger.

They find a railroad tie, they haul it over to the hole and they heave it in; and it disappears; and there's no sound ! And suddenly a goat comes running up, about sixty miles an hour, and the

goat dives head-first into the hole. And there's still no sound. Nothing. So suddenly a farmer appears in the woods and he says, "Hey. You fellas seen my goat around here?" And they say, "Well, there was a goat just ran by real fast and dove in this hole here." "Na-a-ah," said the farmer, "That wasn't my goat. My goat was tied to a railroad tie."

That was apropos of nothing in particular. I just felt like retelling it.

I've been enjoying the nostalgia which has been passed along; and I was pleased to see from Richard Jarrell's message Re food and drink in Bloomington that at least another of the younger Ahayweh's besides Larry remembers me. (To Richard I say: "May Motown never fade from our

collective memories. Viva la N.B.B. " )

I lived for a year in Briscoe after we were split into Briscoe and Foster, having been liberated / banished -- your choice -- from Trees Center. Then the psycho-physical animal needs of a twenty-year-old overrode the need for further fiscal frugality and I moved into town. (The girl who made this seem to me so necessary, by the way, is still an acquaintance of mine. Well into my second marriage and third 'love of my life' , and two children later, we still keep in touch... --There are a good many stories there; the overwhelming majority of them happy.) Joey- the-Gore lived in the apartment next door one summer. That was the summer I read the Hobbit, and of course couldn't stop there. In keeping with the ambiance of the neighborhood I parked my '66 Mustang in the front yard. We called it "Little Kentucky ." The old house converted into three apartments, that is. Not the car.

And speaking of rednecks ( No, I do not mean that Joe was or is a redneck -- I mean that 'speaking of Kentucky', where I later lived for five years or so. You are following this, aren't you?) , does anyone remember my roommate freshman year? David Herring, from Goshen, IN.

I remember around October of 1963 being awakened sometime between midnight and two in the morning. I was asleep in the top bunk {Remember Upper Linden Hall? According to Ahayweh teachings at the time, the Trees Center dorms were erected to serve as officers'-in-training quarters during the Second World War II (as Homer Simpson would say). Some of them remained single rooms when they were converted to regular student dorms, but those which were on the second floor of Linden Hall were, with few exceptions, doubles. With little more than enough room for both of the occupants to stand up at the same time, each room contained bunk beds, one closet, two desks, and one chest of drawers. This left little room for extra belongings of the students, but that was OK. We didn't have all that many belongings. Our room did have a picnic type cooler, however, from which my roommate, I later found out, would sell beer to selected fellow students on warm spring Saturdays. Also a hookah (used only for tobacco -- Although it was 1963 it was not yet "the Sixties" in our dorm) and a hi-fi, as they were then called.} and I was awakened by the loud pounding of a Motown bass and the voices of Martha and the Vandellas. Too loud for that time of night and the cardboard-thin walls of Linden Hall. I expected at any moment the people below would be pounding on the ceiling -- the universal

signal to shut the hell up. As I blinked the sleep out of my eyes I noticed there was an extra person in the room. I don't remember the name of Dave's high school buddy who had dropped in,

but I remember he looked like the kind of guy that our mothers told us not to hang around with. He slapped a cold Strohs into my hand and said "Get up. Nobody can sleep through this racket." That was my first beer ever. I guess one of the advantages of a corner room (northwest corner, from whence we could occasionally get interesting views -- generally silhouettes on the shades -- from whatever was the women's dorm just below us and across the street) is that there is only one other adjoining room on that floor and one below to be easily bothered. Anyway, no one interrupted the reunion party. After a couple of beers David and his friend went out and I went back to sleep.

David was a scoundrel and an **#%^&@* ( isn't it fitting that he went to law school and I lost track of him?), but he was a good influence on my young sheltered self. He taught me that prescription sunglasses were somehow cooler than regular glasses, and that if you wore them to ROTC drills they couldn't tell you to "Take off your sunglasses, Cadet !" He introduced me to some women who, while maybe not Miss IU candidates, would let you touch any part of their body you wanted, as long as you could go all night without laughing out loud at anything they said that they didn't mean to be funny. And among other things, he taught me the fine art of the bore-ass. (This term was so universally used in those days that it even appeared from time to time in the Indiana Daily Student; only they always delicately spelled it boress.) One favorite borass in Trees was the ringing phone trick. We had phones in our rooms hanging on the wall just inside the door. They were, of course, all heavy black plastic. Someone discovered that if you

unscrewed the mouthpiece of someone's phone and removed the microphone inside -- this could be done easily; it would just drop out into your hand -- you could partially disable the phone. You could then go back to your own room and call the unsuspecting person and, when he picked up the phone and said "hello" it would just keep on ringing. He could hang it up and it would keep ringing. There was no way to stop it from continuing to ring until the person who had placed the call hung up.

Weren't we just the cutest? Sometimes the trick would be embellished by using some of your ROTC black shoe polish to smear on the guy's earpiece before making the call.

Another typical bore-ass was to put some water in a wastebasket (a handy bucket substitute) and then dump it under someone's door. The doors in Trees Center, like the interior doors of mobile homes, didn't quite go all the way to the floor. I remember one time my roommate did this to another English major, David Saltzman I think it was. (Please forgive me, Mr. Saltzman, if I am falsely accusing you.) David S, if that's who it was, got so pissed off because so much water was used (also, this was the latest in an escalating series of boresses) that he poured lighter fluid under our door and then lit the damn stuff. Can you imagine that ? ... living in a tinderbox? Somehow the fire was put out and, once again, I don't think anyone got punished. We tried to keep the authorities out of things in those days. Pre-litigious times they were. Ah, well.

We marched in demonstrations for equal rights. We stole dishes and silverware from the cafeteria to furnish a friend's apartment. ( My Mom still has a white plate with a red circle around the edge and the IU symbol in red. ) We cheered for the Hoosiers of Branch McCraken (I think that was his name) in what was called the New Fieldhouse, not to be confused with the Old Fieldhouse connected to the HPER building (pronounced hyper building) or today's basketball hall (the future Bobby Knight Memorial Hall?). We cooked occasional Sunday evening meals of canned spaghetti or chicken soup in our room over a contraband hotplate.We cried, many of us, later that year when JFK died. The Old Oaken Bucket game was postponed a week. And, of course, we somehow still found time to study.

All in all, those were some pretty good times.

The guy who lived right across the hall from Don Lauer who was paralyzed in a swimming accident, I believe at the quarries. Anyone know the story on him since the accident?

This was "Zulu," whose first name was Darrell (can't remember his last name, but I think it started with a "Z"). His roommate was also named Darrel (Rose), and both were chemistry majors. It's one of the really tragic stories from AHAYWEH days. Zulu was actually paralyzed when he jumped into a shallow lake attempting to save someone who was faking a drowning. He

recovered the use of his arms to the point that he could type by holding pencils in each hand and letting them fall on the keys. Zulu eventually became very depressed and committed suicide.

Incidentally, I found that Darrell Rose lives in Planfield by searching the IU Alumni Association Online Directory. It's free.

http://www.indiana.edu/~alumni/alumninetwork/

Tell Walter that I remember the speakeasy party in Briscoe. I think someone borrowed some wood grain alcohol from the chemistry department and we mixed it in a bathtub of juices. If this is true, that could explain why Walt does not remember much else about the party.

This a lot of fun except when it makes me depressed. Thanks to Gary Wiggins, I started finding old acquaintances on the IU web page and learned that my first real girlfriend died of cancer two years ago. I can still remember Retherford telling me she didn't seem like an Ahayweh's girlfriend and knowing he was right, the prick.

Thanks to V.R., I have some brighter memories of Upper Linden. Thirty-plus years later it is fun to say,"I wish I could have spent more time there", but I don't remember thinking that at the time. (like the guy I heard about 1985 say,"Now I kind of wish I could have gone to Vietnam.") I remember how secure we were behind locked doors in Upper Linden even though anyone could open anyone else's door by jiggling their key a little bit, and I remember hearing from some expert (Cook maybe) that if the place caught fire and the sprinklers failed, it would burn down in 4 1/2 minutes but if they worked it would take 7 minutes. I also remember being awakened the night after Cook put silver nitrate in J.C.'s (Harry Miedema's) after shave and going down to the john and seeing Cook being held down while a bunch of guys were trying to decide what J.C. should do to him. I think Glen Harris was suggesting shaving half his head (with the flattop) or maybe pour silver nitrate on him. Cook had the trapped-animal look in his eyes, but nothing happened. Also, I can still hear V.R. psyching up for a date with Sherry by singing Beatle songs. I thought you sang pretty well, V.R. He was probably in his underwear, as we usually were, which reminds me of another story. I sauntered up to the 7th floor from my exile on the 5th floor one Sunday afternoon in the usual attire- skivvies- when Jim Stoneburner dragged me into his room, saying,"Get out of the hall, dumbass. It's parents day." He loaned me some white Levis and I sneaked back to my room.

I have a couple beaver memories, too. I remember that Jack Sciara had the room with the best view the semester we were at Foster and that when Jack told people that Dingee had pulled an all-nighter shooting beaver with a pair of binoculars, no one seemed to question his veracity. I also remember the Homecoming Variety show when Bob Hope told some dull joke about "a Stutz-Bearcat with a live beaver on the front" and got a roar from the crowd. You could se his eyes light up from the stands at the football stadium and about the next five jokes had something about beaver in the punch line. I don't think he knew why he was getting laughs, but he knew how to keep getting them.

I have lots of memories of going to the Indiana, the Princess and the Von Lee Theatres.Some of my all-time favorites come from those years and I think the college audiences made them more enjoyable. I still associate movies like Goldfinger, Those Magnificient Men in Their Flying Machines, Dr. Zhivago, In Like Flint (a sneak preview) and The Blue Max with Bloomington. Von Lee movies were unusual, like A Man and a Woman, The Graduate, Lord of the Flies, and the documentary that had the woman from Lapland castrating the reindeer with her teeth (Mondo Pazzo?).

Other random memories;

-Jarrell's godawful Bob Dylan records on which he ruined beautiful Peter, Paul, and Mary songs. I later became a convert and bought all his records and then bought them again on CD

-the first time I ever saw marijuana ('67 or '68). Thomson and I had been to the bars and he suggested going to the former parsonage Jarrell (of course) and Gore were renting on Allen Street. They very cautiously took us to the basement and removed a block from the wall and pulled out a bag of some kind of weed. I think the beer-drinkers hustled out of there when we found out what it was. V.R. is right about the 60's getting to us late. Ron Freeman and I later lived in that same parsonage. I think that was the summer after he took the Bible literature class, which reminds me of another story which has to be true because Jarrell told it. Ron and probably Rich and/or Jack were "studying" in the Union (how could you study there?) when some noisy little kid came by and Ron told him ,"Shut up kid before I ram this f****** Bible up your a**". (Ron's wife may read this.) That was the summer I roomed with Bill Gogel and one weekend when he went home to Dale, Jarrell heard a news report that a Bill Gogel had drowned in southern Indiana. Gogel was surprised on Monday when Jarrell saw him and turned white. It turned out to be Gogel's cousin.

Very random memories:

-"chew male pouch" stenciled on sidewalks

-drinking Mai Tais in Tiki mugs

-stealing green beanies

-the Gaiety (was that the one in Cincinnati or the one in Louisville, Bud?)

-what guys were doing for $.25 at the Manhattan Club in Tijuana

-the house in Los Angeles on the street that didn't exist

-Lynn (ethnomusicology) Hueneman(?) telling me I should be living " life of the mind" after Retherford and I broke another of those light globes Dailey was referring to playing Frisbee in the hall. How come he didn't say that to Retherford?

-strange people: my first roommate and Retherford's buddy, Lane Carnes; Mike Durham, the non-Ahayweh swimmer from Chicago; Thomson's roommate with the knife who didn't appreciate being a part of the 7th floor's first ever triple-crotch.(Once again, Retherford got me into trouble and I remember Mike Halbrook talking the guy out of coming after us, which we deserved)

I spent my sophomore year on the non-Ahayweh 5th floor and I remember virtually no stories and none of the guys who lived there. They stayed in their rooms and, I presume, studied to get their 2.3 accums.

I still marvel at what a unique collection of guys I got to spend four years with.

I never could stand on my head and I wasn't going to repeat the story about Stroud since I can't get him to respond and, in case he's bearing some old grudge, I didn't want to do anthing that might antagonize him further, like telling who learned from the mental patient about this house in LA where we were going to stay free but it didn't exist when we got there.

You have one of the great Ahayweh minds and I second everything you say about it. Every time I think I've remembered it all someone reminds me more people and stories. Probably because we lived at different ends of Upper Linden, we knew some different people. Also, second semester I went to Shea and you went to McNuttsucks, although it wasn't known as that yet. I barely remember some of those guys. Nils is the only one of them I can remember making it to Briscoe

the next year. Here are some others who fell by the way: Harry Miedema- Walt Lamble says he was a good musician. Mostly I remember him as J.C.'s roommate and Cook's intended silver nitrate victim

-Gordon Fife and Gary Kersten- They were good guys, but were in a different clique by the end of our freshman year.

-Steve Burress- He and Wiseman and I played Acquire a lot the semester I flunked off the program. (My whole freshman year came down to 7 divided by 3-my accum). He had a memorable laugh almost in a league with De Armon and Jetmore.

-Herman Stine-The penis in the car door story may have been a lie, but it was certainly imaginative.

-Todd Curless-my first roommate's next roommate and Daily Student photographer. Someone (probably Steve Burress) told me Todd and Lane Carnes would pile newspapers, pizza cartons, full ash trays, clothes, candy wrappers, record albums and unimportant stuff on their beds at McNutt and, at the end of the day, lift their bedspreads and dump everything on the floor and start all over again the next day without picking anything up. He said the stench was unbearable, and that was when they had the door closed. I roomed with Saltzman at Shea and learned to be neater and take care of things except when I put out a cigarette in the wastebasket and left and Jim came back and found it (the wastebasket, only) on fire.

It's been great hearing things long lost in the pre-Alzheimer's mind. I think back, though, to my own group (class of '68) and how much attrition we had; don't know if that was true of all years. We seemed to be a large group in September 64 (maybe 25 or 30?). Some we lost fairly quickly.

Remember John Hamilton Kimble? Tall, kind of hillbilly chap from Mitchell or somewhere down that way; sweet guy but couldn't hack it. Think he went back to his girlfriend. ALVIA Laine Charnes? What can I say? Recall Kent Maybaum? Curly-headed freak from Gary; his claims to fame were having icthyosis (you can look it up, but don't) and a girl back home name Clelia

Grazia Girgenti (how do I remember this shit?). Gary Lee Bradburn, of course. Nils Nordell, very quiet. Little Alan Husted, from Goshen, I recall.

Some scurried off to other units (me, for one, one semester I was bounced for low grades!). In the following class, Mike Comer ended up marrying his sweetheart from across the quad and disappeared. No one has mentioned Eugene MacDonald. He did graduate but I don't think with the Ahaywehs. Tony Madeley, from Indy, who lived across from Joey-the-Gore and me in McNutt.

He, Stahl, I and several others drove up north in the spring of '65 to see the horrendous tornado damage. There was also a black chap next door to us in McNutt who had a terrific stereo system. By 1968, I think very few of us were still in Briscoe (I was in GRC, having finished in 3 years); Gore was out in town by then. Once did a head count; think maybe 8 or 10 finally graduated. Larry would know for the '64 crowd. Was that typical of the other years?

"Zulu" was really Billy Darrell McDaniels. He was a gifted chemistry major and nonconformist--a big strong guy that could throw a 40-50 yard jump pass in intramural AHAYWEH football. He was to room with me the fall after the accident. Wayne DeArmond(sp?) and I visited him that fall

at home (some small southern Indiana coal mining town?) Wasn't it Rich Bollen(sp?) that mentioned at our last reunion that Zulu had gone back and completed law school?

By the way where is Rich in all this emailorrhea? And what about some of the other "individuals" that made upper Linden unique e.g. David Strohmeier(sp?), Jim Sandlin, Brother Dave Mitchell (went to seminary I believe), Glenn Harris, and Wayne DeArmond? Hedinger might know some of

these. They were approx. his vintage.

You guys have started telling stories quite early. You may peak long before the reunion ever happens. Surely no one would actually stoop to fabricating tales to perpetuate the dialogue!

Kent Maybaum was my roommate in Upper Linden Sept. 64. He did not return for second semester. Yes he had ithyosis, but I did not think that that was his claim to fame. Does anyone remember why he moved out before flunking out? I do. Pretty disgusting even by my lack of moral standards.

I am pretty certain that the Lane Carnes good house keeping award story is correct. I think I was whip in McNutt that semester and then in Briscoe one year. It seems like Rich Jarrell and Gore might have had a room close to Carnes.

Someone should get Stroud's email. I am still looking for the house in Torrence, CA. Come on guys tell the truth, PS was not the only one who went upstairs in Tiajuana, was he?

I always remembered that Bill Stone went home after the first semester of 1966-67 and never came back (to IU). It must have actually happened sometime during the second semester since I cannot remember having another roommate my freshman year (in Briscoe 723). In fact about all I remember that year was eating, working, studying and even sleeping when time permitted. I remember having to study a lot longer than most to stay on the program (I guess the Good Lord gave my brother Mike most of the brains in our family). I had some strange idea back then that I had a right to study in my room, so Bill tended to party elsewhere. Guys like Jerry Funkhouser,

Garvin Lamb, Mike Yates, Ron Price and Bill Dailey probably knew him better than I did. I never heard from/about Bill since.

I roomed with Dan Enneking from Batesville my sophomore year in Briscoe (6^th floor?). Did we go from two floors in Briscoe in 1966-67 to one floor in 67-68? Dan spent most of his time studying and working at the other bookstore on 3rd St. for some relative who I remember as a playboy that was always partying with the young college girls he employed. Dan & I both ran

off the summer of 1968 and married our high school sweethearts. I came back my jr. & sr. years to live in one of those beautiful spacious green trailers just behind Briscoe. The only connection I had with the Residence Scholarship program after that was working in the Halls of Residence

Libraries until I graduated in 1970.

I always wondered why my brother took up pipe smoking while in Trees Center. Now you guys have me wondering what he was smoking in those pipes? Several years ago I ran across an old AHAYWEH friend of Mike's who was teaching school in Lyons, IN. His first name is Jack and I'm not sure if he is receiving these e-mails. What other Jack(s) do you remember?

Thanks for the memories,

I heard many of these same lies in 1966 about former Ahayweh that I never met.

What ever happened to Bill Stone who was Tim Moody's roommate their freshman year? Has Tim mentioned him?

My e-mail has slowed down; surely we can't be out of stories. Why did Kent Maybaum leave school? I remember that Thomson and I never even discussed getting together another quiz bowl team. You were the man and you weren't on the program any more. Does Leland have an e-mail address?Any word from Gore? I haven't heard from Stahl, either.

Larry Clunie

Larry - since I get these emails at work, I don't have time to always read and comment so I've started printing them out and taking them home. There have been so many great memories; I wanted to respond with a few random thoughts (no particular order):

* First, I don't know if you or Jarrell should get the award as the greatest Ahayweh mind. You are both unbelievable historians, and we all ought to be thankful for that. It would take me many reunions to get where you both are.

* Second, I'm amazed where all of us seem to have ended up - mostly still alive, establishment professionals (educators, doctors, lawyers, sports stars) and mostly on at least a second marriage it seems. Wonder why that it?

* I haven't caved (spelunking I think it was called) since IU, but there are many great experiences there including the look of pure fear in Mike Retherford's eyes one night when he got wedged in a narrow passage as I was shining my carbide light back for him. We later found out he was a little claustrophobic. I remember a number of great cave stories including several high suspense trips when it would rain and those caves quickly flooded preventing an easy exit. Again, Ahaywehs seem to dodge bullets that others don't.

* That one Rose Bowl season was great. All those road trips to conference games, especially the one to Illinois. Took me a week to ferment that cider. I remember searching the countryside for unpasteurized cider since we knew it would cook up better. As I remember a couple of those cider

containers exploded during the fermentation in the lounge refrigerator. I also recall several commode-hugging hangovers after that game from this brew. The agreement was that everyone would chug a glass of the cider following an IU score, and the team seemed to score a lot that day. It was sunny & warmer which accelerated things also I'm sure. I also remember getting run out of East Lansing stadium when we stopped MSU.

* Sunday evening meals were also always an event. The one chance to "eat out". I don't think anyone mentioned the buckets of the Colonel's chicken we consumed around those endless card games so there was at least one fast-food place in Bloomington those days. What about Lums and the schooner of Ballentine beer and steamed hot dogs. I particularly recall getting dressed to go to the Tudor Room with its Gothic décor. I also remember Jarrell afterwards buying Player cigarettes from the Union store; it was an aristocratic thing. I even think we smoked cigars (cheap ones)

sometimes after dinner years before it became so fashionable for guys to do that.

* Weekends were also great thanks to Bill & Jack who would supply us the beer. Despite Jarrell's run down of all the great watering holes, there was many a Saturday afternoon spent in our rooms in Briscoe drinking smuggled beer and analyzing the world. I think we got it right more often than not though given how things seem to have turned out for our group.

* My fondest memory of the Foster was the snack bar and the great Washington cherry ice cream cones on a warm afternoon or the Green River fountain drinks. On the food front, I always liked those pork BBQ sandwiches and sloppy joes, or maybe it was just the fact that it was all you could eat and I was so damn hungry. Keeping track of all the beaver you could shoot

was another Briscoe Ahayweh dining room tradition as was all that birdwatching from darken rooms on the upper floors of that hi-rise dorm. You could always tell when you walked into someone's room at night and the lights were out and the curtains were open. As you noted though Larry, I don't know where we got that money to eat out in all those 5 star eateries. Does anyone remember that grocery deli over by GRC just off the railroad tracks? They had the best sandwiches & kosher pickles, and I never got lost since I could walk the tracks back to Briscoe. There was also a drugstore over there where we bought our copies of Playboy each month and pipe tobacco

(remember Cherry Blend) when pipe smoking became the rage.

* Is Wiseman really the backup centerfielder for the Reds? Major League Baseball is one of our clients (I now run a law office in DC) and I will have my managing partner put in a word for him with the Commish (Bud Selig) or the owners we deal with quite often. That probably won't help with the coach though particularly when I have to start recounting how, when, where, etc. about my relationship with Bud.

* I too realized how much times had changed when I moved my youngest daughter into her first dorm 10 years ago. Not only were dorms mixed, floors were mixed. Times they were a changing. They had no idea all the fun they missed. Ties on doors that had to be left cracked so the RA could see in. The one-foot on the floor rule if you were sitting on your bed (there was only one chair in those rooms). Since hormones seem to drive young men perhaps that is why we became so politically active in those years in leading the fight for reform in the dorms. I even remember being the subject of an editorial in the Indianapolis Star about the "leftist student

revolution" going on at Briscoe when I was student governor that year. Given how conservative I seem to have turned out, that editor would never believe it. Does anyone remember the election campaign we waged that year? TheAhayweh's quickly put their stamp on that new quad. I still have the ceremonial gavel I got in my "nostalgia room" at home.

* Speaking of trophies, Rich and Larry do you still have your Quiz Bowl silver statue? I can read mine right now - "Campus Quiz Bowl Champions 1967." That was great fun. All that watching Jeopardy paid off didn't it? I bet you guys watch "I Want to be a Millionaire" or "Greed" and get all the questions right. You also probably have several versions of Trivial Pursuit in your closet. Did any one ever hold up our winning tradition?

* There were so many great borasses particularly from our time in Upper Linden - the endlessly ringing phone, black shoe polish on the ear piece, 6 man lifts that resulted in shaving cream filled underwear, blind sit-ups where you got crotched or kissed ass. Perhaps one of my favorites though was the "hand in the water bucket" trick. It went like this. You found a very sound sleeper; I think everyone was. When they hung their hand over the bed particularly the upper bunks in Trees, you would bring a pail of warm water in and ease their hand into the pail. If the borass work as intended, the guy would piss the bed and everyone would howl like hell. The

greatest borass lesson of all though may have been how it taught us to deal with big vs. little issues in life.

* There were also a lot of great Trees Center stories. Being close to the Jordan River and Kinsey Hollow were certainly location assets. I am not sure what the burn down time was but I know it was not much. It's surprising our lighter fluid tricks didn't bring on a disaster. My great Upper Linden story though was the annual lecture we got at a dorm meeting every year about the need to flush the toilets, as we were no longer saving the stuff. Who gave the speech any way? He was so serious, which made the punchline delivery so great!

* There have been so many good Briscoe accounts given. I didn't remember much about Foster except the snack bar and puking cherry vodka one night & swearing I saw real cherries bouncing around in it the next morning. That was during Little 500 weekend. I do remember the two Saudis though. I think they were princes and how they reacted the first time they saw snow.

We told them the yellow patches were best to eat. Little did we know, they are probably running the country now and would have us beheaded if they knew the truth. The Roaring 20s party was a great event. I remember scouring Indy trying to find old clothes and bar items to buy and decorate with. We hit the mother load when we found that Catholic charity with all those old double-breasted suits. We cleaned them out and brought a carload back that day. The decorations were great. We even bricked up the doors to the lounge to make it look like a speakeasy. What ironies. We wore homeless clothes before they became common place. We used gangster rap before it was ever sung. Just goes to show how far ahead of our times we were even though the

60s were late getting to us.

* Another great Briscoe memory was those weekend football games on the field between the dorm and Greek row. We never bothered with touch or flag; we played tackle without pads. It is a wonder we didn't kill someone given the difference in size between the participants. I do remember one day though when a runner (was it Rodger Smith) leaving the field bloodied and with what later turned out to be a broken limb? He ended up going to the Infirmary (what a place) as I recall.

* The story about Bob Hope and beaver during the Little 500 show is so true. I was on the Little 500 Variety Show student-organizing committee that year and was back stage at the football field when Hope came off. He looked at me and said, "what the hell is all this beaver stuff about any way?" He did not have a clue what he was talking about but knew he was getting laughs.

* Larry, like you, Dylan is now one of my favorites. Has Jarrell dropped him? What about all that other great music of the times - the Byrds, Jefferson Airplane (and Gracie Slick), Simon & Garfunkel, the Box Tops at the Little 500 Extravaganza and Nancy Sinatra and those boots. I still have many of those albums in a box in the basement. Then there were those all night trips to Louisville and the Gaiety Theater. I don't think the strippers cared for us too much. Sometimes we were the main audience and would make terribly crude comments about the performers especially the red head with the heart-shaped pubic haircut. I can remember sleeping on the trip home either from exhaustion or alcohol depletion.

* If someone is counting, I'm one of those 64 starters at Trees who made it to graduation in 68 at Briscoe. My big regret is that day in June was the last time I saw many of these great guys and characters that all seem to have become the leading citizens of their communities today. A

couple of you came to my ill fated first wedding in Clinton. I somehow managed to track my roomie and close friend Mike Retherford down in Plattsburg, NY of all places a few years ago (that's another story). Mike are you still the school superintendent there or have you moved, I can't

tell from your email address?

Larry you have done a superb job of keeping us all in touch and keeping the Ahayweh story alive. I plan to make it to a reunion one of these days. This year probably won't be it due to my last daughter's wedding, which will likely break me, and a family medical situation that will restrict travel. It is nice to see that such a forward-looking group as the Ahayweh's has made it on-line now to the Internet generation. It does make story telling a lot easier than in the days you had to write history down or pass it along by telling someone about it. I look forward to the daily emails and stimulation to a work weary old brain. Keep the stories coming and as you remarked it is truly a treasure to have spent four years with such a unique collection of guys.

Tom Pytynia has a great Ahayweh mind, too, and he has hardly been heard from. I know who the guy was who barfed the cider on the way home from the Illinois game because he did it on the headliner (ceiling?) of my '59 Ford.

Maybe Tom remembers.

It was great to hear from Mike Thomson after all these years, as he does not show up in Bloomington (HINT).

In Briscoe, Mike had a roomie named Paul something (fill in the blank, Mike). He was in awe of his "superiors" and we called him Thomson's batman; you will all recall that Mike was a ROTC major!

Ah, Mike's triumph in the Briscoe elections. I was his campaign manager and we did up a photo of him with my guitar to show what a artistic fellow he was. It worked (Al Gore, take note).

I gave up on Dylan with "Nashville Skyline." Bloody hillbilly! I admit I am not very nostalgic about music; that was then, and this is now. As our two sons are both rock musicians, we have to keep abreast whether we like it or not.

Several of us attended Mike Retherford's marriage; the night before, a bunch of us slept out under the stars at Buckner's Cave. Call that a stag? Mike T's I didn't attend, but in the fall of '67, he and Sally, Mike R. and Laura and Alice and I went to Mike's place in Clinton for the Little Italy

Festival. At one point, I asked Mike where we might go to park, as they say, and he gave me instructions for some quiet place in the country. Knowing his evil ways, I turned right when he said left, and we were undisturbed, as "bushwacking" was a great sport then (in Canada, that means

cutting a trail with skis or snowshoes, just to show you how unsexed your northern neighbours are). I still have the official Little Italy Cookbook I bought there, full of recipes and pictures of little old Italian ladies; all dead now, for sure.

The marriage thing is interesting. Some married rather later (Clunie, Stahl, Dingee, Freeman). Some probably not at all (Bobby Spurgeon, but that is only surmise). A few of us, probably utterly lacking in enterprise, have carried on for zillions of years (Gore, Leland, Sciara, me).

Many reports suggest we were all alcoholics. Most of us liked a bender now and then, but couldn't afford too much. I had quite forgotten Lum's (they had Tuborg!). Later, several of us got into cheap jug wines; my favourite was "Rhine Wine" (if it came from the Rhine, I'm the king of Siam). Cheap, nasty and did the trick. And yes, I smoked Players and also Gauloises,

sometimes with a mouthpiece. Not just aristocratic, but pretentious. My future wife had seen me about campus a year earlier and thought I must be evil, with the long black coat and the wellington boots. Christ, I was only a history major!

Rich - thanx for filling in some more of those void memory cells created early in life by burning the candle at both ends. The qualities of professorialship (is that a word?) fit your great Ahayweh mind well. So does the professor still have the swagger of the long-coated, boot-shoed, Player-smoking history major?

-My Paul roomie was Paul Stroud I believe from Indianapolis Broadmoor HS. BTW, that ROTC thing turned into a 28 year tenured job I finally left in 1995 before taking an easy job.

-As for campaign managers, you were a great one. Al Gore could certainly use your acumen in the next few months.

-I am glad you have retained the Little Italy Cookbook, but do you ever use it?

Keep the memories coming guys.

The Paul I remember being Thomson's roommate was, I think, Paul Page. He was the one with the knife.

I was at the sleep out for Retherford and at the Little Italy Festival (stag). I always wondered why we couldn't find Jarrell when we tried to bushwhack him, but now I know: he outsmarted Thomson.

Rich mentioned those of us who married late, those who probably didn't and those who married for a zillion years, but he didn't list those who have married repeatedly. You know who you are.

Thanks for reminding me of Lum's (beer-soaked hotdogs) and pretentious cigarettes. I'm pretty sure there are a lot more "cool" things that could be refiled under "pretentious" in retrospect if I (we) can just make myself go there.

I heard "Hey, Paula" on the radio the other day and, as I usually do, I remembered having a serious debate with Bud Wiseman (my freshman year, I hope) about who would be around longer, Paul and Paula or Jack Jones. Who won?

Walt Lamble wants more Trees Center stories.

I,M TRYING TO REMEMBER MORE OF THE FRESHMEN THAT ENTERED THE PROGRAM WITH ME IN 1963. IN ADDITION TO LAMBLE,DINGEE,SCIARE,HEFLICK AND LAUER, I REMEMBER A GUY NAMED BOB SUDDITH WHO ROOMED NEXT DOOR TO ME WITH HOWARD MARCUM. ALSO A GUY NAMED RICHIE RITZ FROM COLUMBUS WHO,S CLAIM TO FAME WAS HIS METHOD FOR SHARING PIZZA(WHO ATE THE FASTEST GOT THE MOST) HE ENTERED A MENTAL FACILITY OUR SOPHOMORE YEAR BUT DID RETURN. ALSO WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO COOK'S ROOMMATE JOE LONG. I DON'T REMEMBER HEARING FROM HIM. ALSO DURING MY FRESHMAN YEAR OUR GROUP TOOK A HAYRIDE IN BROWN COUNTY PARK. ONE OF THE WAGONS BROKE LOOSE FROM THE TRACTOR AND ROLLED BACK DOWN THE HILL. SEVERAL WERE INJURED BUT ONE FRESHMAN NAMED ED SOMETHING FROM THE REGION SUSTAINED A BROKEN LEG. DOES ANYONE ELSE REMEMBER THIS? THE WAS ALSO A FELLOW NAMED NORRIS IN OUR CLASS. FAMILIAR TO ANYONE? RICH BAUMER ROOMMATE BOB MEYER , THE DRUM MAJOR WAS ALSO PART OF THAT CLASS. GEORGE HART WAS A MEMBER OF THAT CLASS AND WAS AT THE LAST REUNION BUT AS I RECALL HIS HEALTH WAS BAD. ANYONE HEARD FROM GEORGE?

I ALSO RECALL THAT OUR INTRAMURAL TEAMS WERE COMPETITIVE ON CAMPUS. FRANKLY A SURPRISE TO ME BASED ON THE FACT WE WERE ALL "SCHOLARS". I HAD TO ASSOCIATE WITH CLUNIE BECAUSE WE WERE BOTH FROM PLAINFIELD.

Richie Ritz is a high school teacher of French in Bloomington.

Address: 4327 E. Beacon Ct., Bloomington Phone: 812-339-5277

Whatever happened to David Allen and his roommate (an older guy, Don ???, who had been in the service)? Both were journalism majors.

P.S. By the way, the straight scoop on Herman Stine's penile problem is that

in his first attempt at copulation with his virgin girlfriend, his very tight foreskin (he was uncircumcised) slipped back over the glans of his penis, having the same effect as if a rubber band had been placed there. The "caught-my-dork-in-the-car-door" story was just a cover-up. Herman had to have surgery on the injured implement, but within a short period of time, the battered engine, even in its injured state, found itself aroused to the point of bursting the stitches. The same buxom lass was apparently responsible this time. Herman told his mother that he was wrestling with the girl's brother, and he got kicked in the genitals. You had to be on the other side of the thin wall in Trees Center to fully appreciate the story. I lived next door with Scott Lyons and overheard the conversation between Herman and his roommate, Buzz Jacobs. Poor Herman was just seeking Buzz's advice on whether he should go to the health center, so he showed him the

injured appendage. Because of the full spectrum of colors on Herman's tool, Buzz christened Herman "Rainbow." Thus, he became an Upper Linden legend.

Do you remember the wars between the sixth and seventh floors where they would sneak onto the other floor and try to take hostages to be tubbed on the home floor?

Do you remember Paul, Roger, and you standing on your heads in the middle of the highway on the Rose Bowl Road trip?

Do you remember swimming in the pool in San Padro in 50 degree weather during that same road trip simply because it was California and supposed to be warm?

Do you remember PS going upstairs with one of the "dancers" at the Manhatten Club and not finding it to be an "upstanding" experience.

I don't even know some of you guys. How young are you guys? The only one on the list older than me is Jim Dickman, except possibly Gary Wiggins. What year did you graduate, Gary? Jim retired a while back as reputedly the best math teacher ever to grace the halls of New Albany High School, so you can add him to your list of retirees, Larry, although I am sure he has found something else to do by now.

I didn't get in on the beginning of this chat group (although Ahaywehs wouldn't "chat," they would "boreass"), and Larry sent me only a selection of the old e-mails, so I don't know exactly who asked what first, but Gary Wiggins or Walter Lamble or somebody asked about Zulu. After Zulu's accident he spent a long while in treatment, probably in Indianapolis, and then his dad took him home lying in the back of a station wagon. Zulu wanted to stop and see the Ahaywehs. This was no later than 1964 because we hadn't left Trees Center yet. I remember the station wagon being parked in that little parking area behind the Arbutus, and lots of Ahaywehs and other Trees

Centerites being gathered around to greet Zulu, although the only ones I can specifically remember being there are Glenn Harris and his girlfriend Susan.

So eventually I graduated in 1966 and my wife Ellen and I went off to Uganda as Peace Corps volunteers, and when we returned I taught school to avoid (you all remember the very important distinction between "avoid" and "evade") the draft until I turned 26 and was no longer draftable under the rules of the day. I then entered law school at Bloomington in the 1970-71 school year, and on one of my first days there I met Zulu in the hallway. He was in a wheelchair, but had some kind of device where he could take notes. I think he was probably 2 years ahead of me. He graduated and got a job with the IRS in California (can you imagine Zulu working for the IRS, and how would you like to be audited by Zulu), and also founded some kind of an organization for spine injured people out there. Then I read in the IU Alumni Magazine or maybe some law school publication that he had died. One of the e-mails said he committed suicide; I wasn't aware of that; of course the IU Alumni Magazine wouldn't mention it; I thought he just died of complications from his injury; although if he did commit suicide that would be even more tragic.

So far I haven't read any e-mails that mentioned the draft. The only time I remember ever watching TV during my Ahayweh years was to watch the draft lottery, where I drew the lucky number 7.

Walter Lamble asked about George Hart. George was at the last reunion, but you didn't show up to talk to him (or me, I want to talk to you about Annie), Walter. I have his address, but I am not going to give it to you so you will have to show up this year to talk to him.

George also joined the Peace Corps and went to Brazil, where he married another volunteer. When I got back to law school, George was in graduate school. They had a brand new baby; at the last reunion George told me that baby was then 27 years old, older than I was when I was an Ahayweh.

One of the things I remember about George is that when he played bridge, and would get very tired about 2:00 a.m., and would want to know what time it was, he would say "what's trump," and likewise when he wanted to know what was trump, he would say "what time is it?" This eventually happened so regularly that everyone knew he meant the opposite.

Also in those days ROTC was a graduation requirement. One day, late in the year, George read the headline in the Daily Student that ROTC was no longer required, so George quit going to ROTC class, only to have to repeat the entire class. If he had read the article he would have learned that the rule change applied only starting with the next years freshman class.

Someone mentioned "Herman," who was nicknamed "Rainbow" by his roommate "Buzz." That was Herman Stine, who was from Campbellsburg. The last I heard he was in the school of archeology. He told me the story related by the previous writer, which of course got dragged out over several days because Herman did not tell the exact truth the first time. But what I remember

equally well was the Sunday evening that several of us were eating in Herman's room (remember, we were on our own for Sunday dinner?), when Herman very deliberately and carefully pealed an orange, and when he had finally removed the last piece of peal, he absentmindedly tossed the orange over his shoulder into the waste basket and popped the last piece of peal into his mouth.

His roommate was George "Buzz" Jacobs. The next year Buzz joined a fraternity. Do you know of any other Ahayweh who ever joined a fraternity? At least, a social one? Buzz eventually got drafted, went to Viet Nam, and got napalmed. He has some serious scars on his abdomen. He later went to law school and became the Judge of the Clark Superior Court No. 2 for many years, where he was the only Republican officeholder in a heavily Democratic County.The Democrat commissioners put his courtroom in the old IU regional campus building in Jeffersonville, far removed from the other courts in the courthouse, but at least he didn't have to handle criminal cases because he was also far removed from the jail and they didn't want to transport the prisoners. He "retired" from being a judge, and went into private practice.He also ran in the New York (or was it Boston) marathon.

Someone mentioned Scott Lyons. One summer he got a job driving something like a Rawlings route. He came to New Albany and looked up my sophomore year (his freshman year) roommate, Bob Myers. They had given Scott an old panel truck to drive on his route, and it had only a driver's seat, so Bob put a wooden crate in it to sit on and they came to my house. We caroused around, and Scott had some little expense account, so he was going to stay in a cheap motel and call us the next day. He never called so Bob and I went around looking for him the next night, but we never found him. When we got back to school we asked him what happened to him, and he told us that he ran into Buzz Jacobs and they spent the weekend drinking and chasing women. I'm sure he was just bragging; truck probably broke down.

Bob Myers trains Ford employees in small engine repairs and travels quite a lot. His brother David "Red" Myers was a freshman when I was a senior at Briscoe. Red became an actor and is often at Derby Dinner Playhouse in Clarksville. He had some parts on a national "soap" and also some parts in a major TV drama that I can't think of the name of. Their mother Lucille became a lifelong friend of my wife because they both worked at the same library and also went to the same church.

Bob came to see who my new roommate would be at the start of my junior year. The new roommate wasn't there yet, but his name was on the door: Eskil Nils Nordell. In one of the great predictions of all times, Bob said this guy is going to come in and immediately put a bust of Beethoven right in the middle of this dresser; and sure enough Nils came in and put a bust of Beethoven right in the middle of the dresser. Bob put a turtleneck dickie on it and it stayed there all year. But Nils turned out to be a great guy. And strong! We once tried to play some prank on him and four guys couldn't pull him out of his bed. Has anyone heard from him?

And Everett Hager? He is an old New Albany boy I haven't heard from since those days. Very quiet and studious but a first class human being.

And I see Bob Hedinger's name on the list. I go through Ferdinand (sorry I can't type it with the appropriate accent) every once in a while, Bob. Bob would always walk around Upper Linden with his entire ROTC uniform on, except the pants, which he would put on the last minute, so they wouldn't get wrinkled before he got to the parade ground. But he saved me some demerits one time by letting me use his freshly Brassoed insignia. Bob, Marcella married some German Ph.D. named Hans and lives in St. Johns, Newfoundland (your wife isn't going to read this is she? Oops, too late!).

Hope I didn't offend anyone. I am looking forward to seeing you in June.

I remember a story about a guy who barfed some poisonous cider all over the inside of the Ford but fro the life of me I cannot remember his name. Perhaps by the June meeting I will remember. Also by June I hope to read all of these e-mails.

I remember damming up that sewer they called the Jordan river, and then having rope pulls to drag people through it.I remember sending girls into Boo Bruns room during the Roaring Twenties

parties to watch him turn red. I remember the "dancers" in Mexico on our Rosebowl trip making him turn even redder. By the way, Boo finally got married at about 45 years old. I guess he held out long enough. I actually remember lots of things, more later.

It's really great to hear from a fellow AHAYWEH after all of these years. I can still picture you running out for a pass in a touch football game, Larry. I'm sure when we meet again we'll confirm that neither of us has changed a bit (Ha Ha).

I've often thought about asking the Alumni Association to sponsor a Residence Scholar Reunion, so I was delighted to learn that it was already being done. How did you find me? Until about a month ago the Alumni Association had pegged me as a 1971 alum (when I FINALLY graduated at IUPUI). But the last time I spoke to them I asked if they could also link me to 1967.

As luck would have it, I'm going to a fundraisers' conference at Purdue the week following the Nick's Reunion, so I think I ought to be able to make it.

After grad school at Purdue, I began a career in public relations and fund raising which took me to Purdue, Skidmore, Ithaca College and Mary Washington College. I finally left the collegiate ranks when I joined the National 4-H Council in Washington as Chief Development Officer about a year ago.

I'm living, as you know, in Fredericksburg, VA (a 1 1/2 hour commute from DC). I have two kids age 14 and 8, so I don't figure to retire anytime soon. I also have a daughter from a previous marriage and a granddaughter in Indianapolis.

I'm really looking forward to seeing the old AHAYWEH crew again. (I don't know what else I retained from my college education, but I still remember all of the bawdy songs.) You mentioned Jack Sciarra and Bud Wiseman in your earlier letter. How about Gary Wiggins and Bob Godfrey? Will they be there?

There are several others I'd like to see, but I'm having a little trouble capturing all of the names right now.

I won't be able to confirm until we get a little closer to June 24, but I'm really optimistic that I'll make it.

Best regards,

According to the OSU web site, Howard Marcum can be reached at marcum@math.ohio-state.edu

I haven't tried it but I do know that he is still working in Newark. I think he was at the last reunion, so you probably have his regular address, but if not, it's: 654 Caanterbury Ct., Newark, OH 43055.

Do you know that most dorms don't even have the food lines as we knew them anymore? Some do, but most have "food courts" where you can get fast food. McDonalds is in Reed; Dunkin Donuts is in Wright Quad; Pizza Hut is in several places and Burger King has taken over the Commons. It was all part of a move some years ago to get people back into the dorms. The

occupancy rate was pretty low. I believe it is higher now.

Glad to get your letter and sorry not to have replied earlier.As you see I do have email so please put me on your list. I'm not sure yet that I will be able to attend this year's reunion but I hope to do so.

I think my son may enroll as a freshman at IU this fall (at least I am trying to convince him) and if so I look forward to seeing Bloomington more often than just Ahayweh reunions. Maybe I'll even attend an athletic event.

Others may be retired but I don't see myself doing that for quite some time. Yes, my hair is gray and thinning on top but I try not to let it bother me. Professionally I have moved up to full professor rank at Ohio State, have enjoyed frequent opportunities to travel and have kept active in the research and publishing game. Not all that shabby I sometimes tell myself. Those wild times at Upper Linden must be in part responsible. They seem such a short time ago.

With best regards,

I have received a couple of letters from you concerning Ahayweh events. The latest letter was forwarded to me from my old address in Tucson, AZ. Frankly, I don't recall ever hearing of Ahayweh. I graduated with a BS in geology in 1965. Do you have the wrong person or is my memory slipping even more than I think?

Best wishes,

If anyone has any stories that can refresh Doug's memory about his days in Upper Linden, please pass them along to him.

Here's the best I can remember about those guys;

James Francis Saltzman:

-c.56 years old

-graduated from IU in 1966 with degree in Literature

- originally from Chesterton, IN

-joined the Air Force after college

- short and has red hair

Wayne De Armon

-age 57

-graduated from IU in 1965

-got a master's degree in business from Michigan State or Michigan

-originally from Evansville

-probably lived in Atlanta at one time

James Robert (Bob) Rossman

-age 54

-degree in Recreation (HPER) from IU in 1968

-originally from Evansville

-lived in Texas about 10 years ago but was moving, maybe to Illinois

I may be able to come up with a little more on Rossman if I can find the letter he sent me, but that's probably the best I can do on the other two. I'll forward this message to the others and if anyone knows more, let us know.

Here is some information that may be of use for web pages. I believe it to be accurate by and large but would appreciate corrections.

Best regards,

Howard Marcum

Upper Linden, West End, 1963-64

Room 201--Dan Davis, Glenn Harris

Room 202--David Beale

Room 203--JC Harl, George Hart

Room 204--Scott Lyons, Doug Tipple

Room 205--Roger Hamilton, Dick Herring

Room 206--Bob Hedinger, Richie Ritz

Room 207--Richard Cook, Joe Long

Room 208--Howard Marcum, Bob Suddith

Room 209--Marvin Ogle, Bud Wiseman

Room 210--Bill Dingee, Jack Sciarra

Room 211--Mike Moody, Rick Shaftstal

Room 212--Merrill Emerick, Jim Salzman

Room 213--Gordon Bainbridge, Jim Dickman

Room 214--Ed George, Ashley Hastings

Room 215--Joe Althoff

{There were some single rooms, as indicated.}

To the best of my recollection the configuration of rooms

was something like the following:

204 | 205 | 206 | 207 | 208 | 209 | 210 | 211 | 212 |

(corridor)

203 | 202 | 201 | | | | 215 | 214 | 213 |

| |

| |

Foster Quad, Spring Semester, 1965

Roommate pairings {I don't have the room numbers;

again there were some single rooms. Also some

omissions probably. I've tried to work my way down

the building from north to south.}

{Wayne DeArmon} {Marc Trumbo}

{Ed George, Don Mosier} {Merrill Emerick, Don Lauer}

{Howard Marcum, Paul Rose} {Marvin Ogle, Bud Wiseman}

{George Van Hasselt, Kent Maybaum} {Larry Clunie, Jim Saltzman}

{Dave Kruse, Derald Kruse} {Ron Freeman, Wilbur Siders}

{Doug Tipple, John Wojtowicz} {JC Harl, Harry Miedema}

{Rich Bolin, Nils Nordell} {Larry Brock, VR Heflick}

{Art Page, Gordon Fife} {George Hart, Walter Lamble}

{Richard Cook, Joe Long}

{Glenn Harris, Bob Hedinger}

{Dick Herring, Darrell Rose}

{Dave Allen, Don Snider} {Gary Wiggins, Herman Stine}

{Jim Dickman, Tony Kupferer} {Tom Dolan, Bill Herring}

{Frank Gentry, Mike Thomson} {Dave Meyer, Hal Meyers}

{Fred Holmes, Mike Halbrook}

{Bill Dingee, Ted Malak}

I have a story I have never committed to print concerning Mike Halbrook. I can't say I was a great fan or friend of Halbrook, but I lived around him several years. When I was in summer school in '72 or '73, I had a Social Studies workshop class in which the prof had a different speaker in each. One day he told us that the next day he would have two guys in from Gay Liberation. Gays were still pretty much still in the closet and most of us were high school teachers who were either conservative to begin with or becoming that way and were rather nervous about the day's class. As class started, three people who were not in the class came in and, after doing a double- take, I realized that one of them was Halbrook. I'm sure I got a picture of Halbrook walking down the hall in his underwear, which was common among us, with his hand down the front of them, which was less common. My prejudices tended to run more against Republicans and fraternity guys, but I got some strange thoughts and questions in the few seconds before the prof introduced Mike and the others as educational psychologists who were just there to observe.(I had some questions about Halbrook as an educational psychologist, too). Unlike what may have briefly crossed my mind, on those warm evenings in front of Briscoe when everyone had their windows open and he was out front singing at the top of his lungs, he really was serenading the girls and just disturbing the rest of us. I would enjoy having the chance to tell him this personally.

First, a re-introduction. I’m the other David Meyer (with no red hair and no terminal "s"). I arrived at Trees Center in September 1963 from the smallest senior class in Indiana if not the smallest high school only to discover that my roommate was Bob Godfrey whose brother Bill was a BMOC. More of that later. (Jack, where is Bob in or near Pittsburgh?)

I missed the reunion, but I have an excuse sort of. Actually, I follow in the tradition established at IU: Never hand in a paper early or on time. At the time of the reunion, I was stuck somewhere in endnote 30 or so and finally sent out my tome to Chile on the 27th after weeks of agony. No, I’m not a professor; if I was, the paper would not be evoking memories of the College of Arts and Sciences and term papers. (My less than infrequent dream is that I get this call from the Registrar and am told there has been a terrible mistake. The voice says I still need six credit hours to graduate and until I complete the hours, my IU degrees are revoked. He ends by saying something like, "Have a nice day.")

I've enjoyed all of the e mail stories and at great risk, I will speak of two friends, Fred Holmes and Mike Halbrook, who are not here to celebrate the 4th or reply in kind . I say "friends" but that was not a word we used back then. I remember Mike for lots of reasons, not the least of which was all the quarters he borrowed (with no interest and no maturity date) in order to buy cigarettes Marlboros or L&Ms; I’m not sure (I’m allowed senior moments now), but I do see Mike in a white T shirt walking down the corridor of Upper Linden toward my room with a flip top box of cigarettes either in hand or secure in his sleeve. Mike just never seemed to have the right change for the cigarette machine and he never wanted to (or did, as far I as know) ever break the new $20 bill he was always carrying around. After we moved to Briscoe from Foster, this meant a change of venue for the nearest beer. Did we walk to Fran’s(?) or drive in Mike’s new car? What I do remember is that Mike could sing better than Fred could play the guitar. After a few or more beers and perhaps closing the bar, Mike would lead us in "Lloyd George Knew My Father" from the Briscoe parking lot at midnight or so. For those of you who have forgotten the lyrics, how could I forget these immortal lines: "Lloyd George knew my Father, Father knew Lloyd George, Lloyd George knew my Father, Father knew Lloyd George." I also remember Mike the student. I was the librarian at Foster which had it perks not the least of which were up close views of some the clothed objects of our not inconsiderable supply of binoculars. One evening Mike came over to the library to work on a philosophy paper. He asked me to read what he had written and while I had to deal with Plato either before or after Mike, I was out of my league. But the real philosophy would be the gatherings in one of our rooms. Yes, Mike you were a friend.

When we moved from Trees to Foster Quad, Bob Godfrey did not move with us and my new roommate was Harold ("Hal") Wayne Myers (who when I last checked was practicing law in Fort Wayne). In Shea, Mike and Fred were next door so we shared the phone in the wall with them. Hal would give Fred a hard time in an Ahayweh appropriate style. Fred did not believe in the ritual of daily showers and Hal reminded him of that on more than one occasion. Also, as Fred practiced his guitar playing, the Ahayweh reviews of his performances were less than supportive except for one notable exception: Hal and I would actually request that Fred play one song for us through the hole in the wall: To this day, when I think of Fred who I worked with my senior year I hear "Sloop John B." How many times we asked Fred to play for us I’m not sure, but I still sing the lyrics to myself ("So hoist up the John B's sail, See how the mainsail sets, Call for the Captain ashore, Let me go home, let me go home") Yes, Fred you were a friend.

So today I’m going to drink a beer or two and think of Mike and Fred and maybe even some of you other Ahaywehs worth remembering which shouldn’t be too difficult or time consuming. (I guess that’s mild as compared to what we used to say to each other, but I didn’t want anyone to think I’ve gone soft). I wonder if I can find Colt 45 or PBR and even though cigarettes are part of my past, right now I’m like to smoke just one when thinking of two Ahaywehs who were indeed friends to many of us.

I checked on black Ahayweh t-shirts; ordering a total of 50, we can get them for about $8 apiece. I'm not planning on ordering until the next reunion.

Here are the words to the fight song as I remember them:

We're Captain Frank's Ahaywehs,

We're swabbies of the urn,

We're dirty sons of bitches

Who'd rather fuck than learn.

O, roly-poly tickle my hole-y

Up her slimy slue.

Drag your nuts across her guts,

You're part of the Ahayweh crew.

Rock and roll-a

Pig's asshole-a

Somebody shit

In my Victrola.

Wham bam,

Thank you, ma'am

Lizard shit.

I don't know how to spell "slue", although I'm pretty sure I understand the concept, and I'm not sure about "drag your nuts..." I remember a Doug Clark and the Hot Nuts song with either that line or "drag your balls across the hall". I think we may have neglected the fight song some when we were at Briscoe, and I wonder if it made it to Moenkhaus, although I know Don Hicks lived there and he remembers it. I'll be happy to hear any corrections if I got it wrong.

I had a few Ahayweh flashbacks over Thanksgiving.

I talked to some Purdue people about the Rose Bowl. They said tickets are $125 each; I distinctly remember taking $120 for my entire trip back in the old days and that covered it, even when our free place to stay didn't come through. I was at my father-in-law's house and had run out of toilet paper and didn't know where to find more when the advice of (future M.D.) Ted Malak came back to me. "You just have to shit clean."And finally, I had an e-mail from Dick Cook saying they're too busy counting votes in Florida to laugh at jokes. I took that to mean that Cook is involved in the re-count. Sleep well.

I remember that, too. I think the third line was "eat a bag of shit" and the sixth was "suck your mother's tit". Where would we be today if we remembered what we were supposed to be studying as well as we do the off the wall stuff?

I seem to partly remember another ending chant to the fight song that

(partially) went something like this:

Rat shit;

Bat shit;

da duh da duh da (fill in the words if you can remember them);

Cock sucker;

Mother fucker;

Eat a bag of shit!

Yea!

Rah!

Fuck!

I may be dead wrong that this was part of the fight song, but I'm pretty sure I didn't learn it in church...

I'm sure I join many others in expressing gratitude that you're tending the AHAYWEH flock. What a bunch of black sheep! But it was great to see them all again and relive old memories--some of which I'd been trying to forget. Was I really as crude and aimless as I remember myself being? Don't answer that!

I particularly enjoyed seeing my old roommate, Gary Wiggins. And with Sciara, Dingy and Bolin in the crowd, I managed to catch up with many of my old pals.

Sometime ago I received e-mails from you and several others. I thought I had saved them, but I can't locate them now for the life of me. Can you send me whatever e-mail address roster you have and include me in your e-mail distributions? I'd love to stay in touch with those who attended the reunion and others who are still in the loop.

I return to Indy with some regularity and might be able to stop in to say hello to those who are nearby.

Many thanks,

REMINISCENCES FROM 2002-04

I had hoped to make the reunion this year, but unfortunately, I have to travel to Indy on business around August 5 and could not change the date to coincide with the reunion. Two trips back to Indiana this summer are just not possible. In the meantime, work takes me on a short, but long distance, trip to Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan -- returning the week before the reunion (Deo volente).

Larry, sorry but I can't make it to the reunion this year. The very next weekend Gayle and I are hosting my family reunion up at Bass Lake. She has threatened all manner of punishments, banishments, & withholdings if my fanny is anywhere but getting ready for our own thundering herd. There will be upwards of 60 beer-drinking, bible thumping, cussing, prissy, boring, and stimulating conversationalist Smiths, Daniels, Bowmans, Schultzs, etc. Man, its starting to sound like an Ahayweh reunion!!

If you can get Terre Haute TV where you live, check out my son on Channel 2, WTWO on Saturday & Sunday Sports, 6 & 11. Might need a tower or rabbit ears, as they are not on Indy cable.