The Record of John Arnton Cagle
This day was a very good example of how the summer has progressed. It is a slow, monotonous summer. The days are uneventful for the most part, of the sort you would read about in the opening chapter of a William Faulkner novel--before things really start to happen! It has been like this before the conclusion of the spring semester.
I bad set my alarm clock for seven-thirty, as I had to be at work by nine. Too tired to begin the day, angered at the awful ringing clock, I had set the contraption ahead to eight o'clock. Yes, a half hour's sleep would do the trick. It didn't, so I set it for another half hour--dangerously close to the fail-safe time of fifteen to nine. By this time Jeff Matz--my roommate at the fraternity house--had gotten up. He was good enough to cut the ringing off so as it would not disturb my sleep. At precisely twenty to nine, I got up--dressed--washed and groomed--into my car--and was on my damn way to work.
In the shoe business the back to school rush is supposed to happen about the end of August or the first of September. It hasn't. The shoe store was about as busy as a mortuary after Resurrection Day. All we did was move stock and put shoes away. I am beginning to think that after five years I am not liking selling shoes anymore.
After work I came back to the house. I did nothing.
I went with Bob Paul to White Front to get some things for the house. We did--and some popping corn, too. We got back and popped the corn. It was very good. I put some "music to eat popcorn by" on the stereo and we went to it. After this we shot a game of pool in the party room.
Like I said: a slow, monotonous summer. I will be glad when classes resume.
Jeff Matz showed me a sheet of "Maxims for Fraternity Leadership" which Spencer De Zube and Mark von Hoetzendorff brought back from the Sigma Alpha Epsilon Leadership School. He pointed out one of them in particular: "Influence is the effluence of affluence." This may be interpreted in many ways. To me, a man will not be influencing by boasting falsely. This fools nobody. True influence will naturally "issue forth" from one's "abundant supply of thoughts, words, riches, wealth, and so forth." In other words, his natural character and bearing of a gentleman, intelligence, and actual accomplishments will make--or break--him.
My fraternity, Pi Kappa Tau, has been working for a long while on a nationalization program. Now, at long last, we are petitioning . But the work is just beginning.
At the Province Chi convention we did not get the unanimous approval we had hoped for. This is a sort of challenge. My Fraternity is the best local in the world and I have very confidence that we are as good or better as 90% of the chapters in existence today. Our task is not to mope and bow our heads, but to push forward in the culmination of a dream--a national charter from in our halls.
The national convention will be held in Atlanta, Georgia, in June of 1965. This is our target. I am going back myself with Jim York. We'll take my parents Volkswagen.
Yesterday the IFC rush brochures from the printer arrives. Ken Graves from and I edited it; I think we both did an excellent job with it, and I am quite proud of it.
SEPTEMBER TWO: A Wednesday
It is very late at night, about two thirty. I am thoroughly tired.
Bob Fowlie, Jeff Matz, and I just finished several hours of tedious godforsaken work on letters we are mailing out to incoming male students. It is exhausting work,
Bob said, "When we get pledges, every damn one of them had better come up to me personally and tell me how much he appreciated the letter he got from us--or I'll ding every last one of them!"
This is the kind of work that makes you realize the meaning of "Fraternity: the Magnificent Obsession." I wouldn't do what we just did for anyone at any cost.
Well, good night.
SEPTEMBER THREE: A Thursday
I did not work again today. The new shopping centers are really killing business.
Ralph Muzzillo and Vance Meyer come over tonight. It was good to see them. They seem very embittered over how inconsiderate everyone was to them we they had their apartment. I really don't blame them.
Jeff Matz went to Laguna Beach to our fraternity beach house. It sounds like a great affair--24 hours a day.
I am going to drive down with Chuck Monico Saturday night.
SEPTEMBER SEVEN: A Monday: Known as Labor Day
I lie in bed. My legs and feet and shoulders are red from what is commonly known as a "sunburn." I am really in bad shape, but like George "Weggie" Weghorst is fond of saying, "A skin red from sunburn is better than a skin with no color at all." George ought to know, as he burns three to four times a week.
As mentioned prior to this entry, has a beach house at Laguna. This is well and good I went to Laguna last Saturday evening.
Let me best as possible recount some of the highlights of our adventure.
Saturday about six-thirty o'clock. I drive to Jim Anselmino's house. He is in need of a ride. As Chuck and I are going to drive to Laguna anyway, we will take Jim with us.
Jim has this very nice pad overlooking the beautiful San Fernando Valley. He has this winding road which is designed to discourage guests. Stout of heart I made my way up there.
Carol Lenke--Jim s fiancé--was there. (I had missed dinner by ten minutes. Damn!) It was good to see Carol again. She just got out of Long Beach State. She will teach at Reseda Elementary. Carol says, "They want me to teach U. S. History to the Mississippi, whatever that means. I guess I'll have to read up on it. I flunked U. S. History 11 when I was a freshman."
Carol and Jim just returned from a (platonic) tour of Europe. They had a very good time.
In Italy, they stopped to see one of Jim's aunts. She thought they were married and tried to give them a room together. It took Jim fifteen minutes to straighten things out. Jim spent the night on a huge double bed by himself and Carol slept with Jim's aunt. This is an obvious case of Jim winning the war and losing the peace.
Jim packed his clothes, swimsuit, and bottle of Jim Beam bourbon--and we were on our merry way.
Saturday about seven-thirty o'clock. We make it to Chuck Monico's apartment. It is very uneventful. We switch cars and start on the voyage to Laguna.
Saturday about seven-forty-flve o'clock. Chuck discovers he is out of cigarettes. This is tragic, so we stop at a market. There I buy a hot dog. This girl is Jewish, but she lets me off without paying tax. Then we head off to Laguna.
Saturday about eight-fifty. We are in the hills of Laguna searching for the house. Jim knows the way. We come to this hill that is so steep that it shouldn't happen to anybody. We barely make it over the hill. Eventually we arrive at the house.
Everyone is taking off. I had heard that there were some pretty wild parties there. There were--until Saturday night. Ed Hansen arrives on Friday night....
Friday night about ten-thirty o'clock. Ed is saying there are a lot of girls but they are mostly under eighteen and most about sixteen. "We ought to get rid of them." But how do they do this? They are having a good time and do not want to leave. So the brothers start to sing the Pi Kap Raiders. [A very dirty song with explicit lyrics.] The girls decide it is about time to leave. Ed and Steve stand at the door to give each one a farewell goose. The place is vacant of broads in two minutes.
Saturday where we left off. We understand why there are no girls around.
So we decide to go with Jeff, Steve, Ed, Jim, Dave, and Jerry to this swinging place where they have good beer and a great band Only you have to be twenty-one, I discover. So we get Jeff to get us a few quarts of beer and Chuck and I head back for the Laguna house.
Saturday 2 few hours later, back at the bar. Karen and Shiela are two girls, Karen is one of Jeff Matz's girlfriends and Shiela is a friend of Karen's. They both accompanied the group to this place.
Shiela is left alone for a while. Two guys come along to try to pick her up. Dave Smith comes to the rescue.
"Who's he?" one of the guys want to know. "Your husband?"
"No," Shiela says non-chalantly. "We're just sort of shacking up together."
So much for this episode.
Back to Chuck and I. We're on our way to the house. All the while looking for some girls to pick up. There were none to be had--literally and figuratively.
We finally got there.
Now let me say I am one kid who does not like beer, so, using Anselmino's suggestion, I decide to flavor it with a little bourbon--something Chuck kept calling "boilermakers." There is only about five fingers in this bottle of Jim Beam that Anselmino brought us. I pour about three of them into a glass and fill the rest up with Budweiser beer.
Chuck and I go out on the porch to read comic books. This drink I made took hold fast. Soon we are singing Pi Kap Raiders in grand style. Chuck tells me he wants to pledge . This makes me happy because he is a good friend.
Rick Turton, who was on the porch with us, leaves, accidentally locking us out, We don't find this out until later.
The door is locked. I am convinced-having just read one of Superman's adventures and finished my drink--that I can jump off the second story porch and come to our rescue. Chuck, a sensible fellow, decides to stop me and does.
We finally get in. I pour the rest of the Jim Beam into the Bud bottle and I drink it. I fall upon the sofa and drift away into Never-Never Land.
Vague I am aware of being undressed in a bed--Jeff Matz lifting me up--vomiting-the bathroom--walking about the room-- "Get me the pan! "--Jeff telling me, "You'll thank me in the morning. . . ."--then sleep again
I am convinced it was all a bad dream.
Sunday at nine. Chuck is about to leave. "Where are you going?" I ask. "To church," says Chuck. "Oh, what the hell," says 1; "I'm going with you."
At church. The mass goes along smoothly. There is a mart in it when bells are chimed three times. Chuck grabs his head and says, "Those bells! " We almost laugh.
The priest in his sermon tells about these termites in the church and beetles in the convent. He lets everyone know he means bugs and not the singing Beatles from England.
Just before the communion, where the priest mixes the water and wine, I say to Chuck, "Watch what happens from here on out. He's mixing beer and Jim Beam."
I was wrong and thing went along smoothly. It was over and we went back.
Sunday at one o'clock. We are at the beach. A game of volleyball--the sun--the swimming-g--more sun--a trip to the "blow hole" where divers are carried through a hole in the rocks by the current--the sun--a walk through Laguna--the sun--and I get sunburned.
Sunday at four o'clock. Chuck and I decide to leave, We drive a way and Chuck needs some more cigarettes. We stop at a store and load up on food. We drive ten miles and are on the highway in the middle of nowhere and Chuck discovers he forgot his cigarettes. So we finally find another store twenty minutes later and get some.
Sunday at eight o'clock. I am back at the fraternity house. I have several fond memories--and this goddam sunburn.
Monday about ten o'clock. I lie on my bed wondering what to do with myself. Today I devoted myself entirely to reading, as I could not do much else due to my sunburned body. The tops of my feet are blistered so that I cannot even put on shoes.
I started off by tackling the History of SAE. It was very interesting. From there I searched through my library and came upon a Tarzan book, Tarzan's Quest. It, too, was very good.
Now the minutes tick away and I think I will go to sleep.
SEPTEMBER TWENTY-NINE: Tuesday.
Much time has passed--classes have begun--studies--rush--a few bids extended,
We have 23 pledges as of today. More to come.
Back to Saturday night: I was going out with Pat Gregs. I'd forgotten to tell her when I'd pick her up. I was late. She thought I was going to stand her up.
When I got there, she was in pajamas. We discussed it. We were going to go after all.
She said, "Well, please excuse me while I slip into something more uncomfortable."
OCTOBER EIGHT: A Thursday
A lot has happened since the last entry:
We now have 32 pledges. I think we did exceptionally well.
Monday night IFC put Zeta Beta Tau on strict social probation. They are not taking it too well. But they deserved the punishment they received
Classes are rolling right along.... Getting harder as days go by.
Paul Stewart was fired from the shoe store, leaving just me.
It's about this girl. Her name is Jackie Donaldson I am very much taken by her. I resolve that before much time doth pass, I must take her out.
THOUGHTS:
1. When the going gets tough, the tough get going.
2. Ye shall reap what thy have sown.
There was a great big housing scare. The D.A.'s office evicted a few houses due to improper zoning; he said everyone must go.
Upon checking we found that we are on O.K. zoning--not ideal but permissible for fraternity housing. The two fraternities which received eviction notices petitioned and now they have indefinite extensions on their notices.
Things are looking up.
We have going to have an exchange with AXD on Friday, the theme being:
International
I am going to make some wings, put on a sombrero, and go as a
Spanish fly
My little brother will be Asher Fuchs.
OCTOBER THIRTEEN: Tuesday
I have come to the conclusion that Asher Fuchs is a screw-up! However, he is a very funny screw-up.
Well, the kid's honking on. Got dates for next two weekends lined up very well. I made a date with Jackie for the Long Beach-SFVSC Football Game and the Joint with after.
Then there's Marsha Moore, a nice little Alpha Omega. We'll see about this Friday.
Saturday it's another Marsha. I got confused.
Classes are getting tough. Harder and harder to BS my way through papers.
Well, back to the study room.
We have changed the concept of the Senior Prom. Now to be a Varsity Drag.
OCTOBER TWENTY. Tuesday- The San Diego Adventure
A rather remarkable incident occurred last Friday when we went down to the Sea World Spectacular: Summer's Almost Ended. [Aside about Marsha Moore, my date: Marsha is a very sweet, innocent girl. She is the Audrey Hepburn type of kid.)
Anyway, it was after twelve and we were hungry. There was nothing to eat at the Sea World Spectacular and none of us had eaten since lunch. We thought we would grab a bite to eat before making the long trip home.
We found this place called Kennedys, so Norm pulled his car in the lot and the four of us got out of it and went into the restaurant.
Surprisingly, it was really nice. There was a three-piece jazz combo and a small dance floor.
We danced a while and ordered dinner. It arrived and was mediocre.
When we had almost finished, the band played a fanfare and introduced Miss Jenny Lee. She came out to do a singing-dance routine.
I made some humorous wise-crack about her: she's going to take it off
Marsha gets really embarrassed. Poor kid.
So this Jenny Lee is doing her act. What happens? She actually does start taking it off.
Marsha now is really dying.
Jenny continues. Before the final disrobing, she says, "Now isn't this better than TV?"
Say la vee, as they say in France, freely translated and spelled.
This was what you might call the perfect end to a perfect evening.
We had a showdown on the A.S. Executive Board today with regard to California's ballot Proposition 14--dealing with discrimination in housing.
Bud Bergquist and I introduced a resolution to the effect that it is not the domain of the Executive Board to consider a controversial, political, and moral question such as Proposition 14.
We did this because Nancy Murry was submitting a resolution to have the Board endorse Proposition 14.
There was a big hassle involving parliamentary procedure. We had to suspend the Order of the Day to consider the question. This required a 2/3 vote, which Ron Fiesch and Bob Swaim (who was chairing the meeting) quickly pointed out.
But we got out 2/3 vote--considered the question, had it amended, and finally push through out resolution.
An interesting incident occurred:
Bob Swaim was chairing the meeting. He was against our resolution, so he passed the gave to Mike Silver, who was in favor of it.
What did Mike do at this crucial time when one vote could make the difference? He passed the gavel to Fred Lawson, who was in opposition to the motion.
It is significant that the chair does not have a vote.
OCTOBER TWENTY-TWO: Thursday
Well, I got blasted in the Open Voice by Swaim: "It's innocuous only in the sense that the term sounds evil."
Bud and I wrote a severely satirical reply. Things should jump when it is published.
So ends the journal