Allegheny College at that time was a well-known regional liberal arts college. It attracted students from a broad area, but mostly stretching from Buffalo, NY to Cleveland, OH, to Pittsburgh, PA, biggest emphasis on the latter. Accordingly, often the very best students from this three state nexus chose Allegheny because of its reputation as a quality small liberal arts institution. I loved the place, even though I was thoroughly intimidated by typically smarter classmates. The Dean of Students during orientation noted to our assembled class that the person sitting on my left and on my right would very likely not be graduating from this premier institution four years hence. He had to be talking about me and not about my neighbors. Yes, I know that's an old saw but at seventeen I believed him unquestioningly because I actually had a valedictorian sitting on either side of me at the time. Earlier he had asked the valedictorians and salutatorians to raise their hands...
And there were other equally defined dimensions to Allegheny College during that era. For instance there was one's social standing and acceptability, at least campus-wise, and they could be verified by the fraternity or sorority with which one eventually affiliated. Being taken into the fold, of course, was beyond an individual's ability to control. The dreaded blackball was a stark reality back then.
I ended up as a Theta Chi, initially second on my ideal list. Theta Chi at that time was, more or less, affectionately known as the "United Nations on the Hill." Rare for that day, we actively accepted African Americans, Jews, and sundry other nationalities. Secretly, our hidden purpose was to win the annual Inter-fraternity trophy and to be hot items with the coeds in our sister sorority and beyond. We recruited a motley crew and we were likewise a party house. Accordingly, we had high school football standouts, swim team stars, even table tennis champions. I think I was chosen because of my ability to break 80 on the golf course. Our table tennis champion was Ken Yee, teen champion of Beijing, China. Our president was an African-American named Jimmy Wilson, a local football legend. He was smooth as silk. My little brothers were fast-talking Freddie from Bolivia and Mo Fiorina, currently a Senior Fellow at the Hoover Institution.
Allegheny's Theta Chi Class of '65 had many athletically-talented individuals. Rich Ream, for instance, was a remarkable tennis player. His serve was low and booming. Gaping Gilbert Gray from nearby Titusville was a four year, multiple letter recipient in football, wrestling, and track & field. Bob Lerch was an Ohio all-state champion in wrestling. Academically, we had Petey Rose, history honors student; Dave Flieger, honors pre-med; Marty Mancuso, honors math; Lerch, honors English; Ron D'Ascenzo, honors political science and pre-law, and several others. Our class ended up with doctors, lawyers and quite a few Indian chiefs. And, likewise, we had Dennis McFadden, creative writer par excellence.
McFadden hailed from Brookville, PA, east of Meadville near the Allegheny National Forest. As it turns out, in the long run it was Dennis who became my intellectual hero, and he offered athletic talent in baseball. Back then he wrote "dark" poetry. That hasn't changed much...
Like me, Dennis was an English major. He, however, concentrated on creative writing while I concentrated on the history of English Drama and Literature. With those kinds of majors it was rare to think about having any kind of future whatsoever.
After nearly 50 years Dennis and I are still buddies. Dennis has intangible qualities that I admire -- sticktoitiveness and a rigorous writing schedule. I frankly gave up on any dreams of literary glory long ago, although I happily became a college teacher and administrator with writing and editing responsibilities. Dennis, on the other hand, persisted, continuing to write serious stuff. I don't want to hit on him too much, but he is a gifted writer, and the subject of this particular blog.
This past week, he sent me a copy of his latest historical novel, 472 pages of a haunting, riveting mystery set in the vicinity of Hart's Grove in the year 1857. I found it masterful in several categories. It needs to be rushed into publication as quickly as possible. Start looking for Old Grimes is Dead in about a year's time. Well worth the read.
I just wanted you to know and to be aware. Old Grimes will grab you and you won't want to put it down. At least that's what happened to me.
Enough for now. Oh, and just in case you hadn't heard, Big Mountain Jesus is staying right where he is. A deal was struck with the U.S. Forest Service. I don't suppose it would have happened without me. :-)
Carry on,
Paul in Potsdam
http://www2.potsdam.edu/loucksap/
http://loucksap/smugmug.com
http://madstop68.blogspot.com
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