Phi Sig Ep

Phi Sig Ep

          In the fall of 1971, those of us on the second floor, north wing of University Halls #4 had an unusually strong degree of camaraderie.  We were not close at all to those people on the south wing and only connected to those on the west wing via the Resident Advisor Greg and his perfect blonde girlfriend, Louise.  The RA on our wing was Wiley and while we didn’t know his girlfriend’s name we do recall the closed-door chants of “Stop it, Wiley, stop it” followed by lots of giggling. I could write a whole story on those facts alone but to avoid total distraction will only tell one.  Louise preferred the ease of using the single communal bathroom on the floor (designed as men only) so one day while brushing my teeth at the long row of sinks, I saw Louise come in in Greg’s bathrobe.  She went to the shower bay behind me, which gave me a perfect view in the long mirror.  She proceeded to take off the bathrobe and get into the shower, pausing ever so alluringly, to test the water temperature.  My world changed forever.  Within minutes the word was out, and the entire floor was joining me to brush their teeth, dental hygiene being the priority that it was.  Such are the memories of freshman year dorm living.

          Those freshman year lessons included Rob’s keeping his sweaters in plastic bags for neatness, Henry walking on Rob’s pillow for anti-neatness.  Jocks Ben and Bill adopting John as their Irish mascot and getting him to be the goalie for hall hockey every day and John wallowing in the friendly abuse.  Cliff trying to live with Craig and his tennis team superiority complex while Craig tried to disguise the semen stains on the floor all around his bed.  Frank and Chuck rabble rousing for McGovern/Shriver. And who can forget Gary introducing us to the Missa Louba African folk opera while we were trying to listen to the latest Bread album.  Through all of that, we bonded and fully seventeen of us went off to pledge Phi Sigma Epsilon fraternity at 40 Ridgewood Road rather than otherwise figure out where we would live next year.  It was Hal Trinkoff (currently a prominent neurologist in Connecticut) in his messy and pimpled but avuncular manner, that rushed us into a timid gaggle of innocent freshman, to pledge his fraternity.

          The only one of the “gang” as it were, that did not decide to join Phi Sig Ep and declined the offer, was Mike.  Mike was a wiry and hilariously funny guy who could get you laughing just by looking at you.  Funny thing is that even now Colonel Dr. Michael Parkinson has that same effect on me and he has only gotten wirier with age.  Mike joined Phi Gamma Delta (a.k.a. Fiji), where the spring purple passion toga/Tonga party was legendary on the Cornell campus. We couldn’t really blame him since Phi Sig Ep was way across the gorge and way down the list of social status standing.  At least we that went the Phi Sig Ep route got to keep Debbie as Mike preferred to travel light and we all liked to imagine that Debbie liked us almost as much as she liked Mike.

          To some of us, Phi Sig Ep was a calling.  To some it was a dormitory of convenience.  To some it was a mindless following of the crowd for absence of direction otherwise.  The house at 40 Ridgewood Road had a certain anti-bellum mansion look about it (almost exactly like that house in the Tom Hanks / Shelly Long classic The Money Pit).  Inside it was much grittier with original rooms that were shades of their prior niceness and a new, cheaply-constructed, three-story wing that was upstate-institutional at best.  The parties consisted of a keg of beer, a few bottles of liquor and five ripped open bags of potato chips.  The rush events always had some special moment like Lew Orphanos (the nuclear physicist who ran the roller coaster at Rye Playland and now advises the Defense Department, presumably on things nuclear) wearing a hand-made sign around his neck declaring him to be a deaf/mute who could read lips…so speak slowly and clearly.  There was the scientific study that the members who watched the most Star Trek reruns had the highest grade-point averages (Ken Levy, Jeff Cerzonski, etc.).  Meanwhile, Dave Auerbach was lending his black-box telephone analog tone generator to whomever wanted to call London Dial-a-Disc for free (or at the rate of a call to the Aurora Inn).  And there were the Lawtons.  That would be Steve and his parents from somewhere in upstate, who would come up to the house with tools and proceed to repair everything that needed fixing, with Jim Firtch and Doug Holcomb helping and advising.

          While all of that was going on, Peter Joseph was in his basement lair making up songs about the fraternity.  The only one I recall was one that went something like, “We’ve got ‘em all, from Kurt Shellack to Peter Stahl….” I always admired someone who could be a part of a group, laugh about his involvement, work harder than you can imagine to not pay his monthly house bills and still leave you feeling like he was a mainstay of the place.  I’m still not sure how he pulled that off.  I also don’t know how I got dragooned into being the House Steward during sophomore year, responsible for planning and preparing/serving the meals.  Who chooses to do that?  Service is one thing but slicing an institutional roast beef is an entirely different matter. Whatever low respect I had for food before that, it got lower afterwards.

          I got the Phi Sigma Epsilon Greek letters encrusted on the garnet in my silver Cornell Class of 1975 ring.  That ring has sat in my jewelry box next to my first and second wedding rings for many years.  Unlike my gold bands, the Cornell silver ring has developed a level of oxidized patina that makes it look like Ezra himself must have worn it.  Phi Sig Ep rarely comes into my consciousness any more.  The Cornell chapter passed into history many years ago and the 40 Ridgewood mansion is now a sorority, so no one communicates from the parent ship at this point.  I recall getting a letter about ten years after graduation asking if I wanted to pledge the fraternity that had absorbed Phi Sig Ep at the national level.  Hmmm?  No, I think not.  Phi Sig Ep was one of those waypoints in the path that served its purpose and almost immediately ceased to have any purpose other than as a repository of a few fun memories (most of which I have disgorged herein).  I will gather with those old pals a few more times at reunions and then the episode will be lost forever like the Universal Studios burned tapes. C’est la vie.