Wabash College - Class of 1991

Along with the rollout of next season's football schedule comes great news. For those of you wanting to watch Wabash home games this fall but you just can't make it to campus, you can do so from the comfort of your den. An outfit out of Noblesville called Hometown Television (who taped and aired the Wittenberg game last year) will be broadcasting all Wabash home games (except the Bell) live over the Internet. They have a Web site all set up called littlegiants.tv, so check it out.

The Bell game's at Wabash this year (with a wild rumor that ESPN's College Gameday just might be broadcasting from campus), so that means make your plans now for the...

Official Class of '91 Tailgate Party
somewhere behind Lil' Giant's Stadium
(look for the big red tent and banner)
November 15, 2008

The U.S. Supreme Court ruled 6-3 yesterday in the case of Crawford v. Marion County Election Board, upholding Indiana's Voter ID law. Wabash classmate Tom Fisher argued the case for the State in January and Wabash contemporary Todd Rokita was named as a defendant in the suit.

Writing the main opinion, Justice John Paul Stevens stated:

The law’s universally applicable requirements are eminently reasonable because the burden of acquiring, possessing, and showing a free photo identification is not a significant increase over the usual voting burdens, and the State’s stated interests are sufficient to sustain that minimal burden.

For more on the story, check out accounts by the Washington Post (free registration required), the New York Times, and NPR's All Things Considered.

Ten two-letter words. That's what Coach Rob Johnson tells his student-athletes.

The Indianapolis Association of Wabash Men hosted an admissions reception last fall, and Coach Johnson keynoted. You couldn't ask for a better example of the teaching that takes place at Wabash. As I heard him make the crowd intone those words, I was reminded that Coach Johnson took the time to talk to me when I was but a nervous high school senior in their shoes. It didn't matter that I was a swimmer and not a runner, he took the time to talk to me. I often talk about how my decision to come to Wabash wasn't an automatic one. A sum of factors convinced me to attend, and Coach Johnson was one of them.

I can only imagine the impact he's had on those he's coached for 37 years.

From the looks of it, his retirement party was one hell of a shindig. And that should follow. He's been a steady, guiding force in the lives of countless Wabash men. If you've ever had occasion to coach--little league, soccer, sales reps--you'd do wise to follow Coach J's style. You could tell that he was touched when the College named the indoor track after him.

Time's like these make you relish Wabash for the truly special place it is.

Last week, Tom Runge posted an interesting item on the Alumni Affairs blog. Seems those Dannies who "really don't get into the rivalry that much" are doing just that! Check out their alumni giving page!

We can beat Wabash, but not without you.

Annual giving rates tell the score of alumni loyalty to their colleges. Last year, DePauw and Wabash tied with 37 percent alumni participation in the Annual Fund.

Your gift, regardless of the amount, will help DePauw break the tie. Just like a Blackstock Stadium sign inquires of DePauw athletes, “What have you done to beat Wabash today?”

We can beat Wabash (again), but not without you. Participate in the DePauw Annual Fund today with a gift of any amount.

Repugnant!

They even had the gall to put the video of that last-second kick that won last year's Bell game.

I had to ask whether the Dannies were comparing apples to apples. I mean, leave it to the Dannies to split hairs by bragging about "winning the Bell" more times. True, they have won the actual bell since it was introduced as the series trophy in 1932 by a tally of 36-34-6. But in fact, Wabash leads the all-time series by just one game 53-52-9!

Our Annual Giving Office tells me that "DePauw follows the same gift counting and donor counting best practices that Wabash follows. So their 37% should include the same groups ours includes (alumni, non-grads, widows, and honorary). Last year DePauw had 26,743 active alumni, and last year Wabash had 10,614 active (solicitable) alumni."

They also tell me, "In comparison to their challenge, as of last Friday (4/4), Wabash needs 1,448 alumni donors to reach 40% alumni participation. You will notice on DePauw's website they need 3,567 alumni to reach 39% alumni participation."

As for the Class of 1991, 58 of 263 classmates have given $20,110 for this fiscal year (as of March 31). You can find the most up-to-date list here.

So in the great wisdom of Bugs Bunny (and Groucho Marx), "Of course, you know this means war."

Periodically, we give you great reasons to give to Wabash, most of them involving the direct benefits to our students. But this time, we'd like to give you an added incentive: to spite the Dannies! Unlike the Bell Game, you're not a mere spectator. You have a roll in beating the Dannies. Each and every gift counts toward this moral victory over those Cosmopolitan-with-a-straw-and-umbrella-sipping elitist preppy snobs.

So how 'bout that Wabash Always Fights spirit?

You can make a gift to Wabash in one of three easy ways:

• By phone: 877-743-4545

• On the web: www.wabash.edu/alumni/egift

• By mail: Wabash Annual Fund, PO Box 352, Crawfordsville, IN 47933 (Checks payable to Wabash College.)

David Stone offers "a nice piece from a professor at William and Mary that makes a good defense of liberal arts colleges, appropriate for Wabash." It's from the Newport News (Va. ) Daily Press. Feel free to discuss...

W & M remains true to mission

April 10, 2008

When I think of the College of William and Mary, a phrase comes to mind. It is taken from the King James Version of the Bible, and it reads "Be not like unto the Nations." The phrase is appropriate, for in the years when William and Mary was a church school, its students and faculty attended daily prayers in the chapel. And for readings from Scripture, they used the King James Version of the Bible.

But the magnificent KJV contained mistranslations. And so where the Hebrew Bible warns steadily against emulating the Gentiles, the KJV translated the word Gentiles as "the Nations."

"Be not like unto the Nations" — in the KJV, that's the overriding warning. It's a warning to Israelites to shun not only the worship but also the morals of the Nations surrounding them. Those pagan gods of the Nations: Marduk, Dagon, Mot, Anat, Ashtoreth, Molech, Beelzebub, Baal — if you were an Israelite, you did not follow their ways. Because to do so didn't keep the True Faith.

And we at William and Mary, I think, have somewhat of a parallel mandate. Against all odds — the loss of British endowment, the loss of state support, the moving of the capital, a malarial environment, wartime destruction, closure during Reconstruction, revival as a teachers' college, consistent low funding, and a Canaanite host of other problems — William and Mary has risen to become one of the leading small universities in the nation.

Yet we still face the temptations and allures of the Nations. And in 2008 these "Nations" are not the Canaanites or the Romans or the Greeks with their licentious gods, but rather — as I would see it — the pattern established at the large universities of this Nation. State universities and large private universities — they who at one time educated undergraduates so well: in recent decades many — well, most — have become huge universities where research and work with graduate students is emphasized over classroom teaching and work with the school's undergraduates.

For me, at least, it is hard to name a genuinely good state university where undergraduates come first. I could propose one name: St. Mary's College in Maryland. I could propose another — the College of William and Mary in Virginia.

Surely there are others, but most seem to be niche schools established for specialized study of a field. The simple, the hard truth is that in most states if we want our children to be taught by professors, taught in small classes, graded by professors, guided by professors and known by professors during college and in later life, and if we want them to go to a school that isn't large, then we must send them to the expensive private liberal-arts colleges.

And I have never thought that was just. I think every state should have at least one public-supported school where undergraduates can receive an education equivalent to that offered at the Williamses, Davidsons and Pomonas of our nation — and not simply in the state schools' elite honors colleges, but rather across the board in their curriculum.

But the splendid thing is that at William and Mary, we've maintained that undergraduate liberal arts and sciences tradition. Our graduate and professional schools are important, but we continue to see our primary responsibility as undergraduate education. We've not, that is — at least not yet — become like unto the Nations. But it has not been easy. At all state institutions, the pressures to grow in size, and to gain a national reputation through size and through sheer mass, and through athletics, and through graduate programs, are relentless. There's a steady drumbeat calling campuses to join the Nations.

And at some point, William and Mary may do that or be obliged by external forces to do that. And if we do, that will mean embracing Marduk — the steady expansion of the undergraduate body. And Dagon — large classes. And Mot — anonymous classes. And Anat — classes graded by graduate students. And Ashtoreth — classes taught by graduate students. And Molech — the human sacrifice of undergraduates while at college. And Beelzebub — big-time, expensive athletics, with coaches paid four times as much as the university's president. And Baal — the whole thing put together. Boy, oh boy, I hope that never happens here in Williamsburg. ...

As for me, I came to this historic college many years ago. After military service as a draftee and after many years of graduate study, I was running on empty. Only a few people in this auditorium know how empty. But William and Mary took me in. It gave me self-respect, which graduate students can pretty well lose. It gave me paychecks every two weeks — remarkable. It gave me hard-working, earnest, intelligent students — year after year among the best in the nation. And it allowed me to call myself a William and Mary professor, which I've always been proud to do. So it's been a splendid 42 1/2 years. I've worked for a place I can believe in.

David Holmes is the Walter G. Mason Professor of Religious Studies at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg. He gave this address on Charter Day on receiving the Thomas Jefferson Award for significant service to the college.

Copyright © 2008, Newport News, Va., Daily Press

Here's the tail end of my Chapel Talk, where I profile three Wabash alumni. Comments?

It Seems to Me That there’s no blueprint for being a successful alumnus.

To illustrate this, I’ll talk about three Wabash men from three different eras.

One of those seniors at that breakfast in 1963 where Dean Rogge spoke was John Strickland. Mr. Strickland—as I knew him—taught American Lit at Franklin Community High School, where I attended. He was a big, broad, bearded man—he reminded me of a walrus—who also served as the weight coach. He was quiet and soft-spoken, which made him intimidating until you got to know him. Then you found out that he had a wicked, dry sense of humor. Although I was a swimmer and weight training was not part of the regimen as it is now, I flocked to the weight room between seasons. If he caught you sitting and relaxing after a set, Mr. Strickland would chide, “Stand up! This isn’t a coffee shop.” When the school remodeled some of its athletic facilities, he would not permit mirrors in the new weight room. An architect asked, “Don’t they need the mirrors to check out their form while they lift.” He scoffed, “That’s what spotters are for. I don’t want them preening.”

In class, he was an outstanding teacher. As I found out later, John’s teaching method was influenced by his favorite Wabash teacher, Burt Stern. It wasn’t until I was in Dr. Stern’s office my freshman year that I discovered John Strickland went to Wabash. Here, he was a Delt who played football until suffering an injury. I would later discover that Mr. Strickland painted tremendous oils and played jazz. He is a true Renaissance man and exemplifies the broad level of interest that the liberal arts fosters.

•••

About a year or so ago, I received an e-mail from Michele Tatar in the Alumni Office. I’m a class agent, and she was updating me on classmates the College has lost track of. “I don’t have any address or telephone number for David Ricke,” she reported. “Do you have an e-mail address?” I responded. She answered, “Yes.” “That’s all you need,” I said.

Dave Ricke, or “Tricky” as he came to be known, was the middle child of a lower middle class family in Muncie, Indiana. He played football for Muncie Northside, now a Middle School. Initially, he didn’t want to go to college—none of his family had. He didn’t want to join a fraternity. But he came to Wabash, pledged Phi Delt, and played football. Somewhere around our sophomore year, I saw a change in Dave. I think it was a philosophy class, and all of a sudden, I saw this light turn on. He started reading texts outside of class, he developed a true thirst for knowledge.

After graduation, we both went to Europe. After a few weeks, I returned to the States, but Dave continued to travel. Dave has been all over the world. He’s been to Antarctica three times, Greenland three times. I have prayer flags he brought to me from Tibet. I’ve visited him in Arizona, Washington State, and Hawaii. He got married and recently had a kid in Alaska. He’s read way more books than I have. And right now, I have no idea where he is. But he’s always an e-mail away.

•••

One of the first alumni I met as a newly green-potted Phi Delt pledge was Major General Earl “Punk” Johnson, class of 1938. It was the first home football game, and General Johnson was up on campus for the Class Agent Forum. We found him outside the house, petting the big dog he donated and told us the story of ol’ Ben, also a St. Bernard, that was in the house when he was in school. The brothers had named that dog General in honor of its donor, a man who flew B-29s for the Army Air Corps during WWII. He also served in the Air Force during the Korean War and the Vietnam War.

To illustrate how much this man exemplifies courage, wisdom, and quiet dignity, I can relate a story of one of the last trips to his hometown of Crawfordsville in November 2001. Unfortunately, it was to escort Peggy, his dear wife of many years, from Orlando to her final resting place. General Johnson recalls that during visiting hours at the funeral home, he ducked into the side room to watch snippets of the Monon Bell Game. He says that he popped in just in time to see Jake Knott hurl a prayer from his 48 yard line with 2.7 seconds left on the clock to Ryan Short on the 5 which was tipped backward into the waiting arms of Curt Casper in the end zone to win the Bell 27-21. Yeah, it was that game. The next morning, he walked into the Phi Delt house. Not a soul was awake, but there amid the debris of a massive celebration, on the raised living room, was the Monon Bell with General, the St. Bernard, curled up beside it. At the conclusion of the worst week of my life, he observed, I got to see something truly inspiring.

On Commencement Weekend next month, Wabash will bestow General Johnson an honorary degree. It will be the first time he will have seen the new Phi Delt house. I can’t wait to see him again.

•••

I’ll end with a sentiment that we tacked on the masthead of the Bachelor for one issue when I was co-editor. During an argument before the Supreme Court, Daniel Webster said of his alma mater Dartmouth. “It is, sir, as I have said, a small college. And yet there are those who love it.” It seems to me that there are multitudes of us who could say the same for our alma mater.

Thank you and Wabash Always Fights.

Here's the second part of my talk where I discuss the Co-ed Study and Chapel Sing.

It Seems to Me That an unexamined tradition is not worth following.

As someone who was a student here when we last considered “The Coed Question,” I have to say that I am very glad we did it. I’m extremely glad we did it. Of course, I wasn’t at the time. But I noticed that it forced this college to think critically about itself.

Regardless of the motivations of the Wettack administration, at the time I found the structure of the study to be quite sound. Thirteen subcommittees researched and reported on all aspects of Wabash and made recommendations based on how the college could improve itself on two tracks: as a single-sex and as a coeducational institution. To my recollection, tradition was not a criterion.

Now, I know my talking about coeducation is like stepping on the proverbial third-rail, but bear with me. The decision to remain all-male at that period was very “audacious” to say the least. We were portrayed by The New York Times as stubborn backward hicks stuck in the ’50s. The few years immediately after were hard for faculty especially and difficult for the campus. But, eventually, good things started to happen.

Classmates of mine recall that when we were high school students in the mid-80s, we received recruitment brochures from Wabash where the description of Wabash as a college for men was buried in the text. They remind me also that the photos misleadingly depicted women as well as men!

After the decision, Wabash’s admissions literature suddenly got assertive “Guts Brain Spirit Strength Wabash” was emblazoned on its cover and the slogan “It won’t be easy. It will be worth it” challenged those boys willing to try something different. Applications grew steadily.

During the mid-’90s, the college started harnessing the power of its alumni. While alumni have long referred prospectives to Wabash, the notion of organized and active alumni recruiting really took root at this time. Regional alumni clubs started to take hold. There are some 44 or so such clubs in 20 states, the District of Columbia, and Europe currently.

WABASH Day, a national day of service, was created to encourage alumni to give back to their communities. Monon Bell Telecast parties exploded. Last November, there were about 60 of them all across the country. The College consolidated its reunions into the Big Bash and began holding them in June, bringing record numbers of alumni to campus.

I argue that much of what’s going right with Wabash now has a lot to do with this institution finding and asserting its identity. But this search can never be complete. Wabash, like us, will continue to have to adjust to the times.

You know the expression: “If you do something at Wabash more than once, they call it a tradition.” I like to add an adjunct to that, “But traditions are often like the children’s party entertainment, The Telephone Game” where you sit in a circle and whisper a message to the person next to you. Like the message, the tradition can often mutate, in some cases becoming unrecognizable from its original meaning. If we steadfastly stick to the parameters of the medium, we often lose the message.

OK, a story. For alumni, this Chapel is almost sacred. Mostly because, unlike every other building on campus, it doesn’t change. The only new additions from my days here are the portraits of three Wabash presidents that now look down upon us. The Chapel evokes memories, for me, of being the last class President Lew Salter rang in, of watching bebop great Dizzy Gillespie perform roughly a year before his death. I’ve seen two weddings here and three presidential inaugurations. I’ve seen Jon Pactor ’71 speak at each of your ringing in ceremonies. Last year, I was humbled to be inducted as an honorary member of Sphinx Club on this very stage.

But most of all, for me, the Chapel evokes memories of Chapel Sing. My freshman year, Chapel Sing was deep in the stages of its devolution. It better resembled the old greased pole fight than the “Sing” that generations of alumni had performed. Here we were, my fraternity brothers and I, joined in a phalanx of interlocked elbows. Yelling as loud as we could, we lost our voices in about two minutes all the while fighting the other scrums of fraternity pledges. While this was going on Sphinx Club members tried to force crackers coated with Tabasco in our mouths.

Now, I’m tall, I swam varsity for Wabash, and I’m no wilting flower. Still the proximity and the constant exhalation took its toll after 45 minutes or so of screaming. After a while, someone came over and told us that we were done. At that moment when our tight-knit group started to separate, my eyes rolled into the back of my head, my knees buckled, and I hit the pavement. There I was splayed out on the Chapel steps, unable to open my eyes and unable to move. After a time, I felt this slapping against my cheek. My eyes fluttered and slowly opened. There, standing above me, was an upperclassman’s face telling me, “Hugh, STOP SINGING THE SCHOOL SONG!”

Now, this is when you find out how small a campus this is. Everyone, knew I had passed out at Chapel Sing. When I trudged on deck for practice that afternoon, I was still a little dazed from the experience. I fully expected to do some light deck work or fill water bottles for the team, but Coach Pebworth made me swim the whole practice. I now know how to swim with my eyes closed.

Now that makes an excellent story. And I know that I risk being considered a hypocrite for saying this, but I would not wish my experience on any single current Wabash student. Going to the hospital with stitches or a broken arm or shredded vocal chords or passing out may be a rite of passage for a Navy Seal exercise, but, sorry, we ain’t the Navy Seals. The point of Chapel Sing is for every freshman to learn the school song. We’ve gotten away from the value of the tradition. The details of how its passed on don’t matter. What matters is that every freshman learn the school song. Yes, it’s just that simple. But many times, stubbornness supersedes sense.

You may not know this, but over the course of this decade, new traditions have sprouted: The Celebration of Student Research, The Mission Statement—its fairly new, and I’m amazed how quickly everyone in the Wabash community has embraced it--Immersion Learning and Externships, singing Old Wabash to the crowd at the conclusion of our sporting events. I think every team does it now. We didn’t use to, and it’s great.

So when I found out my Chapel Talk would be taking place during the week of Pan Hel, I didn't expect much turnout from the student body. I was pleasantly surprised. Dr. Placher even showed up. Rather than post one long entry, I'll make it bite-size and post in three parts. Here's the first. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapel Talk by Hugh Vandivier
Thursday, April 3, 2008

Good morning, Wabash. I want to thank the Sphinx Club for inviting me to speak today. I have to confess that I actually inadvertently asked for this gig. I was on deck at a swim meet this past season, and at some point when I was talking to Kyle O’Keefe or John Kasey, I said, “You know, I could give a Chapel Talk.” Me and my big mouth. Of course, when I accepted the invitation, I was under the impression that all speeches received a standing ovation. Thanks to the editors of the Bachelor for being the wet blanket.

To be honest, I have been a little reticent about giving this talk because firstly, I feel, as usual, I have a lot I would like to impart to you. My father was fond of attributing a quote to Napoleon, “When I realize my opportunities, I marvel at my moderation.” It’s kind of a family motto. And in these days of Google, I have yet to actually find confirmation that Napoleon Bonaparte did in fact say it.

Secondly, though I stand here at what some may deem a lectern and many others a pulpit, I intend neither to lecture nor preach. I wish simply to convey some of my observations in the great spirit of sharing and learning that this campus so successfully embraces.

The title of my speech hearkens a long-forgotten interim tradition that once replaced the Chapel Talks we have now. You see, of all the traditions at Wabash, I have yet to partake in an actual Chapel Talk until now. When I was in school, we didn’t have Chapel—mandatory or otherwise. But through the decades, this time has always been here. This break on Tuesday and Thursday after morning classes, like some vestigial tail. For a while though, we had a series called “It Seems to Me That…” I don’t remember who put it on, but it was held in good old Center 216. Anyone could sign up and use that time to speak on anything they wished. And when they advertised it on campus in the old Daily Announcements or on fliers, it would read, “It seems to me that,” says Wally Wabash, “that –and you’d have the topic of your talk. The titles were often provocative to ensure a crowd.

SO in the spirit of this interim tradition, I’d like to divvy this Chapel Talk into a few “It Seems to Me Thats.”

It Seems to Me That your generation lacks leadership, direction, and engagement.

If you think I’m talking about you guys, you’re only partially right. I dare say similar generalizations have been hurled at almost every generation to attend Wabash. Let me read you the lede of a Time magazine article:

They have trouble making decisions. They would rather hike in the Himalayas than climb a corporate ladder. They have few heroes, no anthems, no style to call their own. They crave entertainment, but their attention span is as short as one zap of a TV dial. They hate yuppies, hippies and druggies. They postpone marriage because they dread divorce. They sneer at Range Rovers, Rolexes and red suspenders. What they hold dear are family life, local activism, national parks, penny loafers and mountain bikes. They possess only a hazy sense of their own identity but a monumental preoccupation with all the problems the preceding generation will leave for them to fix.

The cover story was dated July 16, 1990, and was talking about Generation X. It’s a good lesson for those of us alumni whose memories become clearer of all the great and positive things we did but become ever so fuzzy in the stupid, moronic, and risky stunts we pulled. And herein lies the true generation gap that hinders communications between you, the students, and your alumni.

For us, the admonition was set forth by Dean Ben Rogge in his senior breakfast address on June 8, 1963. Titled “How To Be A Good Alumnus” and excerpted on the Alumni portion of the Wabash Web site, Dean Rogge warns us:

Do not "demand that this college remain always what you will come to think it was when you were here. Your Wabash College existed for only one brief four-year period, a period that is now closing."

Do not demand that the college seek out for admission only what you may conceive to be the typical or real Wabash man. On the contrary, you should demand of your Alma Mater that no typical Wabash man can be identified."

Do not demand that the College's faculty be of one type and one point of view… You should demand that the college always remain true to the words of John Stuart Mill which are now hung on the wall of your President’s office “that there is always hope when men are forced to listen to both sides of a question."

For you students, please recognize that as students of Wabash, we as alumni have high expectations of you. You are Wabash men, and that means something. Deep down, we all know that there’s this interplay between the two archetypes that seem to battle for the soul of every Wabash student. Instead of the angelic cherub and the devilish imp popping up on each shoulder as in so many Tom & Jerry or Bugs Bunny cartoons of my youth, it’s the battle between the Gentleman and the Caveman.

Lest you think me a saint, believe me when I say that boorish behavior was well practiced by Wabash men of my era. One good example: The Homecoming game against Franklin College my junior year was going to be a battle. The Grizzlies had an all-American passer named Reese Mann; we had future hall-of-fame passer Brett Butler. The joke went that with both teams’ passing attacks, we’d have to start the game at 10 in the morning just to get it over by sundown. Now, my dad was a Franklin alum, and at the time, my brother was attending Franklin and my mom was working there. They came up for the game, and as we entered Little Giant Stadium, we were greeted with a sign on the press box which read “The only thing Grizzly about Franklin is their women.”

One of the best things I learned here was to own up and take responsibility for my actions. I think it’s a quality that helps Wabash men excel in the cover-your-rear, It’s-not-my-fault business world. Though it’s not explicit, it’s built into the Gentleman’s Rule.

I keep hearing from students concerns that others on campus don’t abide by the Gentleman’s Rule. It’s easy to see why when composites and fraternity artifacts disappear off walls or when the senior public art project, the Critical Arch, is destroyed after a concert.

In this era, where we are embarked on a great conversation of how much freedom we should be willing to sacrifice for greater security, recognize how lucky you are to be given such responsibility. The fact that so many of you are concerned about it is good. It’s a start. I would challenge you, as a student body, to go further.

On the swim team, the guys abide by two rules, roughly stated: help yourself get faster and help your teammates get faster. On campus, I would extol the same. Be a gentleman, and encourage your classmates to act as gentlemen.

I’ll give another swim team example. When I swam here, the legendary Gail Pebworth coached us. To date, she remains the only woman to be inducted into the Wabash Athletics Hall of Fame. Those of you that I coach are sick of me saying it, but during my four years here, we lost the Bell all four times, but we never lost to DePauw once in a swim meet. Yes, they had good teams, and we swam them about five times a year in dual meets, invitationals, big meets, and Nationals. Coach Pebworth led by expectation, and she commanded our respect, although sometimes a bit begrudgingly.

Sometime after I graduated, the team began this cheer. It comprises nothing but cusswords, a stream of profanity yelled really loudly to be almost incomprehensible. The guys would perform this cheer in the men’s locker room (out of earshot of Coach Pebworth) and then file out on deck to sing Old Wabash. They were being both Cavemen and Gentlemen, but in the appropriate place. Even though Coach Pebworth has retired, the guys still do the cheer.