Butler University - Carillon / Drift Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

Page 13 text:

Falling into line in the passing parade of memories are the faculty ... as diversified in appearance and personality as the classes they taught. Behind desks and before blackboards we thought of them as animated text books. Over coffee and under blue football skies we knew them as people. We polished their apple, cribbed their tests, slept through their lectures, cut their classes, and laughed when we got away with it. Yet we respected them. For eventually we realized that our tricks weren ' t so new and clever. They had been used by thousands of students in hundreds of schools, and were known by actual practice to the very profs we sought to deceive. We saw most of our profs three times a week, and listened to them for one-hundred and fifty minutes of eternity. But there were times when the bell rang long before we expected it . . . during exams, and during some of those lectures that departed from the usual dreary, dry, dogmatic discourse. And always we ' ll remember the faculty in caps and gowns on class day.

Page 15 text:

To the dismay of many bald-headed vets and married men who were attending school to get an education, Butler did have its tradi- tions. Dusty shoes and burr trimmed pants walked side by side along the paths that border the canal. The old bridge not far from Sweeney Chapel creaked in its rusty age as couple after couple peered over its edge at their image in the water below, just as they had since Butler moved to Fairview. The traditional Phi Delt-Sigma Chi chariot race was accompanied as usual by a traditional victory for the Phi Delts; and the lovely queens, chosen from each of the houses, displayed their charm as the traditional trophy was awarded. One custom that will not soon be forgotten, at least by the transgressors, is the tradition of Senior Walk. More than once, volumes of ice cold water have cascaded onto the heads of egotistical under-classmen who feel that the sanctity of Senior Walk should also be known to them. The Iron Key helped main- tain an old rivalry between our school and Wabash, and, as the key would indicate, old Alma Mater did all right. The coeds in their jeans (tight), and the eds in their yellow cords (dirty); the rhinie pots that the freshmen failed to earn the right to discard, the Butler Bulldog . . . could we forget these?