Editor’s Note: Many thanks to Jerry Frost ’48 for sharing memories of his time at Sigma Nu, and his wonderful donation of $25,000 to the windows renovation project.
Yes, World War II did come to Cornell and Gamma Theta. I (and I presume thousands of others across the country) was allowed to enlist in the Navy and graduate from high school in three years. Thus, my high school class of ’45 graduated on a Monday night in 1944. The following Friday afternoon I was marching up the hill to Sage Hall to be issued uniforms, shoes, and bedding. Arms full, I was directed to my dorm, which carried the strange name: Llenroc. (I later learned that these fancy digs had been the home of Cornell’s first president and the word was Cornell spelled backwards.) All fraternity houses, as well as other facilities across campus, had been requisitioned by the Navy as housing for the V-12 Naval Officer trainees.
As we were officially in the Navy, we were in uniform at all times. Campus swarmed with sailors dressed in “whites” and those funny hats in summer, “blues” and a knitted watch cap in cold weather. Reveille at 6:00 a.m.; muster (roll call) for breakfast at 8:00 a.m.; inspection and lunch at 12:30 p.m., muster for dinner at 6:00 p.m., in our room at 8:00 p.m. and lights out at 10:00 p.m. Saturday afternoons were reserved for drill. All meals were served in dining halls (temporary buildings long since removed) situated below the Baker halls. Someone was on fire watch in all dorms 24/7. Heaven help you if you had a quiz the morning after you stood a 2:00–4:00 a.m. watch at a remote building.
Owen “O.J.” Black was one of my three new roommates at Llenroc. It was O.J. who introduced me to Sigma Nu. I am told that during the war years, the chapter, significantly reduced in size and, burdened by restrictive military schedules, was able to hold only a few sporadic meetings in a building downtown. I pledged in the spring of 1946 and moved into the house that fall. Preston “Hack” Hackley, general factotum, had been retained by the Navy to maintain the building, so if you will excuse me, everything at Willard Way was “shipshape.” The carpets, furniture, pool table, and dining tables were returned from storage and were unharmed.
Fraternity life seemed normal. We studied in our rooms, slept in the loft, and were served excellent meals in the dining room. Chapter meetings were according to protocol. I bought the candy store under the stairs. Bad debts were not a problem. There were many more students on campus, particularly women, which previously had been in short supply, and guys in sailor suits were missing.
Three-day house parties took place three times a year, a long enough period to permit “imports” from off-campus. Hack maintained a strict requirement that women slept on the third floor and no men above the second. Barton Hall was the scene of the Saturday night dance. Big bands were the rage at that time: Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey, Vaughn Monroe, and Johnny Long. Vaughn was primarily known for his rendition of “Racing with the Moon” (“high above the midnight sky”). A Johnny Long special was “The White Star of Sigma Nu” (the bright star of Sigma Nu). Three bands rotated continuously throughout the night, and we could relax on furniture from the house that had been moved to curtained-off spaces surrounding the dance floor. These were magical events in my memory. However, after spending three whole days with the same girl, I never saw fit to date her again.
Rush was in springtime as I recall. The stunts of the time included ice hockey on the dining room tile floor, bob for apples in a pail of water, then immediately search for a quarter in a pan of flour, followed by brothers in the window above attempting to drop the contents of a raw egg into the open mouths of the pledges below. GIs who had returned to campus from the horrors of war in Europe or the Pacific rightfully did not appreciate this humiliation from youths who had not served. I regret my part in these events.
It has been good to reminisce. I treasure my two years at 230 Willard Way.
Fraternally,
Jerry Frost BCE ’48
jerryfrost10@comcast.net