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Stories, as we all know, are the life of Omega Mu, and they keep alive our Omega Mu spirit each time we see each other, and there is nothing wrong with feeling nostalgic and then saying to yourself: “Did I really say and do these interesting things while living in the house; did all those events occur in the RAM, and did I really look like that during my years in The Castle?” And the beautiful thing is that these events did occur, and you did look like that. The Castle has graced the ground of 79 College Avenue for generations of Omega Mu brothers, and our binding stories were framed within the distinctive walls of The Castle. The stories are delightful, poignant and filled with warm memories. Your stories provide a clear, significant lens in appreciating our long history; second, they provide a broad generational spectrum of our brotherhood and our shared home. That is the power of authentic storytelling, not shallow prattle. Anyway, to be clear, please send me more of your stories. Each story helps each of us to appreciate and love, in new yet familiar ways, our Omega Mu brotherhood and The Castle. Thank you. Fraternally, Chip Chapman, ‘82 Perge! First Story |
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“Vietnam revisited:
It’s a long way from the Ia Drang Valley in Vietnam in 1965 to the Falmouth Cinema
in 2002, both in distance and in time. Yet the film We Were Soldiers bridged both of those distances for a few Maine men yesterday and as a witness to something extraordinary I am compelled to report on it. I accompanied my old friend to the movie, knowing that as a career soldier he had spent two tours in Vietnam. While he had never talked much about it he loaned me the book on which the movie was based. On the inside back cover he listed many of the men he knew who were in the book and in the battle of the Ia Drang Valley. He told me he gave up listing people after a while.
The movie features Lt. Gen. (then Lt. Colonel) Harold Moore who wrote the book on which the movie is based. In the books prologue he noted; “Many of our countrymen came to hate the war we fought. Those who hated it the most the professionally sensitive were not, in the end, sensitive enough to differentiate between the war and the soldiers who had been ordered to fight it. They hated us as well, and we went to ground in the cross fire, as we had learned in the jungles.” At the end of the movie I exited the theater with my friend, both of us sad and in tears for what we had just seen. My friend wept for the loss of his friends, many of whom he had trained with and had seen off to Vietnam while he went on to Advanced Infantry Officer training at Ft. Benning. I wept for the sadness of it all and for the sense of guilt that these young men died while I stayed home. And in the small corridor outside the theater my friend was approached by another Vietnam vet, and then another, telling where they were and when. None knew the other, but they reached out for each other spontaneously and with a shared understanding of what they had just seen. And in a moment it was over and I watched as one got in his car with the Purple Heart plate on it and drive quietly away.
And as I watched my friend continue to struggle with his emotions I felt some healing begin. It has been a long, long time and these brave men had never had their stories told as young, scared men fighting to live just one more day.”
It’s a long way from the Ia Drang Valley in Vietnam in 1965 to the Falmouth Cinema
in 2002, both in distance and in time. Yet the film We Were Soldiers bridged both of those distances for a few Maine men yesterday and as a witness to something extraordinary I am compelled to report on it. I accompanied my old friend to the movie, knowing that as a career soldier he had spent two tours in Vietnam. While he had never talked much about it he loaned me the book on which the movie was based. On the inside back cover he listed many of the men he knew who were in the book and in the battle of the Ia Drang Valley. He told me he gave up listing people after a while.
The movie features Lt. Gen. (then Lt. Colonel) Harold Moore who wrote the book on which the movie is based. In the books prologue he noted; “Many of our countrymen came to hate the war we fought. Those who hated it the most the professionally sensitive were not, in the end, sensitive enough to differentiate between the war and the soldiers who had been ordered to fight it. They hated us as well, and we went to ground in the cross fire, as we had learned in the jungles.” At the end of the movie I exited the theater with my friend, both of us sad and in tears for what we had just seen. My friend wept for the loss of his friends, many of whom he had trained with and had seen off to Vietnam while he went on to Advanced Infantry Officer training at Ft. Benning. I wept for the sadness of it all and for the sense of guilt that these young men died while I stayed home. And in the small corridor outside the theater my friend was approached by another Vietnam vet, and then another, telling where they were and when. None knew the other, but they reached out for each other spontaneously and with a shared understanding of what they had just seen. And in a moment it was over and I watched as one got in his car with the Purple Heart plate on it and drive quietly away.
And as I watched my friend continue to struggle with his emotions I felt some healing begin. It has been a long, long time and these brave men had never had their stories told as young, scared men fighting to live just one more day.”
Second Story
1960’s
 | “We were zobies in the middle of Hell Week ..... Down in the basement .... most of us were scared shitless...... Standing all in a line eating white bread from each others armpits .... Rodger Watson (USMC) was in line with us, fresh out of the military .... Big as a house ....6 ft 5 ...all muscle .......Then the brothers came out with their paddles ..... (that as tradition requires ....we had made for them ) any way.... The paddles being waved ...the screaming unbearable .... and there is Rodger standing up straight and laughing at all of them .................They left him alone that night! Smart move!” |
Third Story
1960’s
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“This year marks the 50th anniversary of many of us becoming pledges at the castle (How many of us really thought we would live this long?)....... a time of love and Hate "1968 remains arguably on of the historic years in modern American history"... North Korea captures the Pueblo, The Tet offensive, highest monthly casualty toll in Vietnam to date (543), RFK enters presidential race, My Lai, MLK marches in Memphis.... MLK dies in Memphis..... Riots in Boston, Chicago, Newark, Kansas City, Washington ..... 46 dead, ....And we were just getting started: Ceiling raised for number of troops in Vietnam .... 541,000 in August, June 5th. California Primary night...Robert F. Kennedy assassinated in San Francisco, The Democratic National convention starring Abbie Hoffman, Nixon nominated.....George Wallace is running for President..... Black Power salute at Olympic Games. (sound familiar) , Apollo 7 launches ..163 revolutions around earth.....Apollo 8 launches .... "first humans around moon' Nixon wins ..... Turn in your draft card .... Unemployment rare drops to 3.3 %. ( War is good for the economy!)......AND Finally!!!! Fiji Pledges introduced to The Purple Jesus.........And lived through it!”
Fourth Story
1970’s
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“How kind of the Lambda Chi's to recall that snowball epic. Fijis did indeed initiate that running battle by attacking Phi Mu, which used to be across College Ave. After being caught off guard, the Phi Mu's needed to vent, so we joined forces to attack ATO - a slaughter, I might add. Some ATO's joined us and we proceeded up College Ave. picking off targets as we went. One memorable moment for me came as we paused to catch our breath across the street from Phi Eta and Jim Chaplin, pitching ace for the Black Bears baseball team was challenged to chuck one of his best at Stoddard Hall, a dorm about 40 yards away. Jimmy packed a ball, wound up, and followed through with a beautiful stride. There was a hushed pause as the crowd watched the building, the only sound the falling snow.”
Fifth Story
1970’s
Winthrop C. Libby University of Maine President 1969-1973 “In those days it was customary for national fraternities' visiting field secretaries to visit with the University President. At the time it was Winthrop C. Libby., and the field Secretary was Barry Mees, a great guy and fresh out of a Canadian university. He had all the positivity and enthusiasm of a new puppy under the Christmas tree. I was utilized as the house "fixer" for campus issues. If something outrageous happened to the brotherhood, he always said, "Find McLean, get him up, put a tie on him and tell him to find the person who can make this go away." Recognizing that Field Secretary / University President in the same room dynamic had all the potential to be a lot like open gas valve / match in the same room, I was delegated by John to escort Barry to the meeting. Libby, a great guy, and about as dry a Mainer as you could find, looked an awful lot like Abe Lincoln with a shave.
When we walked into his office his six foot six or so lanky frame was slouched in one chair with one of his feet up on another chair and his hands were high-steepled in front of his non-smiling mouth. He managed to move just enough to shake hands with Barry, without rising.
Barry was filled with positivity and new-guy enthusiasm.The conversation, to the best of my memory went as follows:
Barry, "Hi President Libby it is a real honor to be visiting the U of Maine and its very historic chapter of Phi Gamma Delta. I am Barry Mees, Field Secretary for Phi Gamma Delta. I am a recent graduate of (I forget which school, but I believe it was the University of Western Ontario). So what do you think of Phi Gamma Delta at U Maine? Barry was as animated and leaning forward as Libby was leaning back and unresponsive in a manner that would do the Sphinx proud.
Libby, (through steepled hands and with no sign of warmth) "Well. Mistah Mees (pregnant pause)....... "That is a COMPLICATED question".......... pregnant pause as Barry leaned forward in positive anticipation)..........."On one hand, Mistah Mees".......... pregnant pause as Barry leans even more forward and Libby slumps even more backward........ as individuals, they ahhh the most TALENTED group of people I have ever seen on this campus…”
When we walked into his office his six foot six or so lanky frame was slouched in one chair with one of his feet up on another chair and his hands were high-steepled in front of his non-smiling mouth. He managed to move just enough to shake hands with Barry, without rising.
Barry was filled with positivity and new-guy enthusiasm.The conversation, to the best of my memory went as follows:
Barry, "Hi President Libby it is a real honor to be visiting the U of Maine and its very historic chapter of Phi Gamma Delta. I am Barry Mees, Field Secretary for Phi Gamma Delta. I am a recent graduate of (I forget which school, but I believe it was the University of Western Ontario). So what do you think of Phi Gamma Delta at U Maine? Barry was as animated and leaning forward as Libby was leaning back and unresponsive in a manner that would do the Sphinx proud.
Libby, (through steepled hands and with no sign of warmth) "Well. Mistah Mees (pregnant pause)....... "That is a COMPLICATED question".......... pregnant pause as Barry leaned forward in positive anticipation)..........."On one hand, Mistah Mees".......... pregnant pause as Barry leans even more forward and Libby slumps even more backward........ as individuals, they ahhh the most TALENTED group of people I have ever seen on this campus…”
Sixth Story
1970’s
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The Great Baker Island Fire
“Getting everyone and everything from the ferry to the shore was quite a feat because there was no pier and everything had to be shuttled from the ferry to the rocky shore of the island via the motor launch on the ferry. It took many trips and I think several folks ended up in the ocean but it was a sunny day and no one died. All the food and all the beer made it too. We spent the day cooking, eating, drinking, exploring, and farting around. We made driftwood fires over which we grilled the steaks, and set the metal tubs filled with seawater, seaweed, clams, lobsters, and
ears of corn in the husks. Tapped kegs and drained them quickly, too. It was an awesome day. I recall lying on my back in the sun with my head in my date’s lap, while she scooped the tamale out of a cooked lobster with her finger and placed it gently in my mouth.
When it came time to go, it was getting to be dusk and we were sun-baked and groggy with food and beer. We managed to reload all of our gear and debris, not drop our dates into the ocean, and get back on the ferry. As we motored back to Bar Harbor and the school buses, it was getting dark. We were motoring west, toward the setting sun, but there was this strange glow in the darkening sky behind us. Our fires were not completely extinguished and had flared up and spread to the woods on the island. We heard over the ferry’s radio that a fire suppression crew was heading out to the island to put out the fire.”
“Getting everyone and everything from the ferry to the shore was quite a feat because there was no pier and everything had to be shuttled from the ferry to the rocky shore of the island via the motor launch on the ferry. It took many trips and I think several folks ended up in the ocean but it was a sunny day and no one died. All the food and all the beer made it too. We spent the day cooking, eating, drinking, exploring, and farting around. We made driftwood fires over which we grilled the steaks, and set the metal tubs filled with seawater, seaweed, clams, lobsters, and
ears of corn in the husks. Tapped kegs and drained them quickly, too. It was an awesome day. I recall lying on my back in the sun with my head in my date’s lap, while she scooped the tamale out of a cooked lobster with her finger and placed it gently in my mouth.
When it came time to go, it was getting to be dusk and we were sun-baked and groggy with food and beer. We managed to reload all of our gear and debris, not drop our dates into the ocean, and get back on the ferry. As we motored back to Bar Harbor and the school buses, it was getting dark. We were motoring west, toward the setting sun, but there was this strange glow in the darkening sky behind us. Our fires were not completely extinguished and had flared up and spread to the woods on the island. We heard over the ferry’s radio that a fire suppression crew was heading out to the island to put out the fire.”
Seventh Story
1980’s
“My pledge brothers, Dennis Mulherin, Steve Swan, Dave Rushton, and I were planning a "bag" of epic proportions in the Spring of 1980. We were going to kidnap the president of the Fraternity, Buddy Cote, and spirit him to a location known only to us. We had informed our pledge brothers of this act in order for them to be prepared for the inevitable fallout from the brothers, once word got out of our success.
We carefully scouted out Buddy's activities for that Friday and decided the place to take him was the Student Union. We positioned ourselves such that when he got to a particular location, we could take him with the least amount of commotion. We were literally about to rush him, when another brother came out of nowhere and they stopped to talk. Chance foiled us.
Seconds later, Dave came rushing upstairs. Peter Berg had just entered the bookstore. Not allowing chance to deny us of a prize, we raced to the entrance of the bookstore and tried mightily to look innocent.
Peter came out of the bookstore and we overwhelmed him in a rush right out of the door to the rear parking lot. I don't think Pete knew what was happening until we starting stuffing him into the rear of Steve's Corolla. He begged us to let him go. He had a field geology prelim test the next day for a critical grade he required. We could have cared less.”
We carefully scouted out Buddy's activities for that Friday and decided the place to take him was the Student Union. We positioned ourselves such that when he got to a particular location, we could take him with the least amount of commotion. We were literally about to rush him, when another brother came out of nowhere and they stopped to talk. Chance foiled us.
Seconds later, Dave came rushing upstairs. Peter Berg had just entered the bookstore. Not allowing chance to deny us of a prize, we raced to the entrance of the bookstore and tried mightily to look innocent.
Peter came out of the bookstore and we overwhelmed him in a rush right out of the door to the rear parking lot. I don't think Pete knew what was happening until we starting stuffing him into the rear of Steve's Corolla. He begged us to let him go. He had a field geology prelim test the next day for a critical grade he required. We could have cared less.”
Eighth Story
1980’s
“In any case, that October the house was going to throw a Halloween party and somehow a few of us got it in our minds that a giant pumpkin would be an appropriate decoration. The pumpkin may have been meant for the foyer table where brothers on ‘door duty’ during a party checked names of invited and paid guests. For big party events, non-Fijis were expected to sign into our guest book that had Mary Ann McCarty as perpetual first signatory as well as some elaborate sketch from our resident artist, Jimmy (‘Boo-Boo’) Faucet.
A few nights before the big Halloween party a group us piled into cars and went up Stillwater Avenue hunting for a pumpkin to bag. I remember Sean ‘Father’ Flathers, Richard ‘Buckwheat’ Banks and Joe ‘Mama’ Colluci were involved but there were a few others for sure. Sean had his pickup truck.
We passed up several candidate pumpkins until eventually we came up to a house on the right-hand side with a long drive way and there under a light on the porch was a pumpkin about three feet high. A couple of us ran up the drive way to grab it while others readied the pickup tailgate. But that plan was not happening so easily - this thing was a monster - and it took everybody to lumber it down the driveway and into the truck. Laughing our asses off we made it back to the house and delivered the pumpkin to Boo-Boo for carving. He did an amazing job getting it ready for the party - especially considering that at the time there was no such thing as a tracing template. We all thought it was great.”
A few nights before the big Halloween party a group us piled into cars and went up Stillwater Avenue hunting for a pumpkin to bag. I remember Sean ‘Father’ Flathers, Richard ‘Buckwheat’ Banks and Joe ‘Mama’ Colluci were involved but there were a few others for sure. Sean had his pickup truck.
We passed up several candidate pumpkins until eventually we came up to a house on the right-hand side with a long drive way and there under a light on the porch was a pumpkin about three feet high. A couple of us ran up the drive way to grab it while others readied the pickup tailgate. But that plan was not happening so easily - this thing was a monster - and it took everybody to lumber it down the driveway and into the truck. Laughing our asses off we made it back to the house and delivered the pumpkin to Boo-Boo for carving. He did an amazing job getting it ready for the party - especially considering that at the time there was no such thing as a tracing template. We all thought it was great.”
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