The Beanie is probably the first memory a Kent State alumnus recalls in later years, at least it is for those who matriculated in 1953. Each Frosh wore a cap of blue and gold, with a small brim, to all classes and events for a time that seemed like forever but was probably only a few weeks. The one restriction in the activities for a Freshman, which may have lasted for the entire year and, perhaps, for what seemed like the rest of his academic life at the institution, is that he could not step on the University seal beneath Prentice Gate, the main pedestrian entrance to the campus.
The next recollection for all students, and visitors, too, was the Hill, itself. The buildings for the major liberal arts composed the crown for the hilltop, with the Admin building at its center. All of the structures were covered with classical ivy, which burned red in the fall along with the trees covering the hillside down to Rockwell Library. I, myself, burned up piles of calories as I crossed the campus between classes, plowing through leaves in autumn, snow and slush in winter, and squads of squirrels and chipmunks in spring and summer. Did I really step on one of those chipmunks as it scrambled across the stairs leading from one level of the campus to another? Certain memories say I may have, but I was never really sure.
As intended, freshman year at Kent was a transition from my life in Niles, from a life of uncertainty to a life of a different uncertainty, but one which was much more fun to experience. The classes were not any more difficult than in high school; however, the faculty was more knowledgeable about the subjects they taught, and wittier in their presentations than those I once endured at McKinley. Fellow students were more competitive now than they had been before; they also were more friendly and social than they had been in my previous life. Not knowing the failings of others in the past, they were open to new relationships. This was true even for those who continued with me from McKinley to KSU.
George Davies was a very pleasant carryover from the past, although we saw less of one another at Kent. Bob Wick lived in Stopher Hall but on a different corridor, which made it seem more like residing on other planets. Our conversations in the dorm lounges were far between, but, when they occurred, were as deep as those we had enjoyed in high school. Martha Smith also attended Kent, but our classes and lives never overlapped. Diane Lapolla also was enrolled at Kent; we dated a few times, mainly if she could not find someone else to accompany her to an on-campus dance. The four of them (George, Bob, Mart, and Dee) went back to Niles more often than I did. We continued our friendships but traveled different paths.
Dorm life was a salvation for me. It provided me with a ready-made group of potential friends, even buddies. I enjoyed my time between classes, playing card games, such as Hearts, or engaging in long sessions of Monopoly. We all had the opportunity to make fake money, even if the real stuff was not readily available to most of us who came from working, middle class backgrounds in northeastern Ohio. The modest income I needed for daily existence came from my working on the desk at Stopher Hall, as well as from being a chem-lab assistant during the daytime, when I mixed reagents for class experiments and helped monitor what other students might be doing and prevent them from blowing up the lab.
A personal transition occurring for me was my hair style. In high school I had a lot of it, arranged in massive waves piled high in a pompadour shape. Indeed, my high school yearbook photograph is now an outrageous hoot! It was toward the end of my freshman year that I finally opted for a crewcut. The short, scalp-showing result was ultimately accepted by my mother. My friends and I did not take as long to conclude that the difference it made in my appearance was an improvement; I was now a “college man” and did not stand out in a crowd of them. I had finally transitioned from Niles McKinley High School to Kent State University. I had also transitioned from a non-social life to one with many friends, an even more magnificent transition.