Thursday, the final night. There were no games tonight, we were allowed to study. The Actives decided to go downtown to drink. At midnight we were herded, once more, into the officers’ bedroom on the second floor to wait. No Active was to enter under any circumstances, unless he was Gindlesberger, Lange, or Bob Owen. The house was quiet; we could continue studying but were forbidden to sleep. I tried to read some psych but couldn’t concentrate. A few Actives tried to get in but couldn’t. Bob Patterson sounded drunk. The pledges made a pool of a nickel each for the first one to go down. Ed Burley collected the money at 12:55 a.m. Shortly afterwards we heard some yelling from the basement. At 1:23 a.m., Jack Gordan was called. I was next.
Bob Owen took me into the hall. He told me to hold tightly to my paddle and not let anyone take it. The actives were drunk and liable to try anything. I descended the stairs slowly, expecting at any moment a fight. The living room was dark. The lights in the trophy case sparkled on the gold. Before the fireplace was a card table with the ΔΥ candle. A knee-rest of some sort was in front of it. I knelt.
Nic LaLumia, our recently elected President, in a blue bathrobe and slippers appeared and sounded like a priest in a Confessional as he told me tonight was the first part of the ceremony. Downstairs they were waiting to interview me for the last time. He had no control over them. He would remain up here. He then draped a blanket over me and instructed me to hold out my paddle at arm’s length and not lose it if an Active tried to knock it from my hands.
Owen blind-folded me and led me through the music room and down to the basement meeting room. He gave words of encouragement and instructions. I knocked on the door of the meeting room. “Who is it?” the Chapter boomed. “Pledge Camerino.” “What do you want?” they demanded. I then began my entrance song, the song which several times in the last week almost made me de-pledge. Knowing I could not carry any tune, the Actives spared me (and themselves); they admitted me before I finished. I was led over what must have been folding chairs to a table. The blindfold came off; I faced a hot-white lamp with my eyes still closed. Third degree commenced.
As I knelt there, pledge-master Dan Patridge asked me questions. The red behind my lids was strangely comforting. A voice on my right, Jerry Lange, helped with the answers, even though I knew them. On my left were Phil Miracle and Bob Patterson whispering wrong answers and telling me not to take this crap but walk out now. I smiled at the situation of the good and bad angles. I didn’t even mind the hot candlewax being dripped on the back of my hands. I withstood the slaps on the paddle.
And then Patterson’s, “Damn it, Camerino, I don’t want you!” Drunkenly he began a tirade against me. What could I do for DU? The others tried to shout him down but failed. “Camerino, you haven’t shown me nothing. Get out of here. Pass the box; I want a vote.”
It was decided a vote could be called. The box was passed. I was told to reach in. A “black ball” was actually a cube. I found a cube! Shaking, I told Jerry. The Chapter exploded at me and Patterson. Al Dalcher then read the rules. Bob was in his right. I was blackballed right out of DU and by Patterson, the last one I’d expect to do that.
I got up and as I stumbled over the chairs to the door, I heard Bob in a drunken, mocking monotone sing, “I ex-pledge Camerino, desire to leave.” I don’t think I cried then. Not until Owen offered me congratulations! Nic learned of the blackballing and offered his apologies. He said I was still welcomed to visit the House; Patterson was graduating. I said I had no hard feelings about the fraternity or even Patterson, but I wouldn’t be back. I had to give him the pledge pin.
And there was Stillwell. Even he looked sad, and now I’d never get to know him. Someone called my big brother. Dick got my books and we left. Corny perhaps, but the last thing I said was, “Hail Dikiaia.”
Dick and I went out to the car. But his was too far back in the parking lot, so he returned to the house to get someone else’s keys. I stayed on the porch.
He came back and said Nic wanted me in the Chapter room for a minute. When I entered, there was Bob Patterson and the rest of the Chapter. I groaned an “Oh, no” and fell into Bob’s arms. It had been a prank, another waxed string! I was now a Brother. The Actives, all of whom were quite sober, hurried off to get the next victim, Ken Kalish. I slumped down, peeled the hardened candle wax from my hands and talked to Nic and brothers Burley and Gordan.
But shortly I saw Kalish do the same thing I had done. My Big Brother and I then went out for coffee and donuts. We returned for the other interrogations. Of the twelve, ten cracked. Only Imrie and Angle didn’t. Vinciguerra, who had exhibited stomach trouble at the time, didn’t go through anything but third degree. Needless to say, I cut my eight, nine and ten o’clock classes that morning.