Tugging Freshmen

We approach the season when people are scrambling to ready for school. Memories of early college experiences make brief amusement in our lives.

When I (first) attended Fort Hays State -then- College in the mid-1960s, I was part of a routine freshman humiliation - the Freshman-Sophomore tug-of-war. A friend from another town I had known over the years through scouting and DeMolay was a mover and shaker, and he brought me on as part of what today might be called his "posse." We ramped up a campaign for him as freshman class president, which had student senate positions and other perks to hand out. An election was held the first weeks of classes, and my friend won handily among people who barely knew each other

By tradition, on Homecoming morning, a sophomore team and a freshman team face off in a tug-of-war across a Big Creek tributary that ran through campus. It was hardly the magnitude of the modern day tug-of-war between LeClaire, Iowa, and Port Byron, Illinois, residents across the Mississippi River, but it was a festive humbling of last year's high school seniors. The creek was a 15-foot-wide water course through the campus and countryside, often nearly dry but flowing gently in fall - mostly about 2 feet deep with a very muddy bottom you'd sink half-way to your knees

My friend, as class president, and I put together a team of fellow freshmen we had gotten to know from towns in the region through scouting, church retreats and various high school activities. Six guys in all. Calculating traction and weight, I wasn't the best choice, but it was more about rewarding supporters than winning the tug-of-war

[{1910 East Oregon State tug of war.]

All excited about doing this, we strategized on what to wear and the best for traction. It all had a very festive feel and we were festive as you could be at 10:00 AM. I remember that I wore shorts, T-shirt and boots, because the creek bank was dense mud. On Homecoming Saturday morning we gathered early as the crowd was beginning to show up for the 10:00 event. It was a bright, clear October day with temperature in the 60s. We stood around on our side of the bank, shivering a little in morning chill, excited in anticipation. The rope had been laid across the stream.

At 10:00, five guys came over the embankment. They were all business, in their jeans and white T's and boots. They said nothing, walked over to the rope, picked it up, and waited for the signal. I think they wore shades, didn't talk or high-five or greet anybody. On our side, we picked up the rope, too, and dug our feet into the muddy embankment.

The signal was given. The guys on the other bank, counted out "One, Two, Three!" and hauled our freshman butts, in our gaudy shorts and random T's and tennis shoes, right into the water. We dug our heels into the mud and slid right in. Then they dropped the rope, turned around and walked away, the epitome of cool. We stood up and staggered through the mud back to the bank, slopping mud off our elbows and butts, to the very happy jeers of the crowd.

As school life transpired, I never participated in campus politics and my friend and I drifted apart. But that tug of war was a fun introduction to campus life.