Columbia University College of Pharmacy - Apothekan Yearbook (New York, NY)

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When I was a lad, eating seemed a normal process to me, and all I thought about was the enjoyment of the food. After taking zoology with Mortimorlie ' s uncle, strange things happened to me. I could feel the salivary juices wetting the food as it was pushed down; I could feel the food sloshing around in my stomach . . . there goes pepsin; or was it trypsin? To complicate my mental state, I was asked to dissect cats. Yes, mother, real dead cats. We were asked to display what we knew on practical exams and on little tests of our ability. ' Don ' t twist that shaft, Doc ' After finishing our mutilation of the cats and dumping them into the garbage can in the rear, except for those left on the Brighton Beach Express during the rush hour, we had to show the other side of our characters by learning the finer things in life; namely Nature. But ? we all knew the orange, anyway we thought we did, until practical time came. Dangerous Frank James gave tests that were harder than doing the Sunday Times crossword puzzle even though they were only ten minute quizzes. What did all those dots on the page mean? ' The of the only when occurs. ' After finish- ing my first year here. I decided I would do better next year because I got THE CLUE. Waal, pardners, gather closer while I tell you of our adventures during the second year. We were no longer greenhorns, jest ornery and hankering for trouble. We were in such a hurry to get to the north range that those who drove had car races along Broadway. Those that had no cars shared cabs at 35 pesos apiece, and when we got there, what did we do? We played hockey with a milk carton. Anyway, I remember the boys who cut out of physics lab and the other boys who answered for them. Why, I knew at least six men who were known by three different names in the various physics labs. Then there were the problem classes held on the first floor and the mad scramble out the window. Once, on the way out of a class, Daddy Lee stealthily removed the doorknob and every one was locked in until he relented and inserted the doorknob and let us out. Well, 1 reckon we all had a ball up on the North Range, but back home we really had it good. There was Slick Joe the Dude who tried to teach us Arithmetic. What a riot that was! ' Eddie Kaplan, will you tell me how many grains in a gram? ' What? I dunno. I thought they was the same ' . Then out from nowhere came Wee Willie the Kid, A youthful gunslinger with that cute smile saying, ' Your desk is dirty ' . Then there was the syrup group. These tumbleweeds used too much cotton in the percolators and waited for weeks on end for the syrup to pass through. Wee Willie shot all his victims in the same place and they all went out to Colorado to recuperate in the salubrious climate. Last but not least we met the Great White Father . . . Long Sam the Lone Wolf, whose biting tongue could hurt more than a bullwhip. ' I reckon I ' ll teach you wranglers a little sense of .responsibility ... 60 official assays for tomorrow, and I ' ll be on Broadway at high noon if anyone is interested. ' Gunhappy Sam even overshot his ■ -7, ■I I ■

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It was cold that night in September ' 95 as the boys were sitting around the camp- fire trying to keep warm and telling of their adventures of the day. In the distance the coyotes were howling at the full moon. The boys had been on the trail since June and longed once more to be in the warm atmosphere of the ranch .house. Each man was telling those stories that were closest to his heart. Then, out of the black of night, hoof beats were heard echoing from the purple hills. The hoof beats came closer and closer until they stopped just outside the camp Up walked an old sourdough bent over by the years that were carved into him. We welcomed him and asked him to come over to our campfire and have a bite to eat. It was not difficult for him to be coaxed into talking either, for he had driven the last 100 miles alone, and was longing for companionship. In between mouthfuls of hash and beans he told us about his youth back East. Waal, I was eighteen yars old when, back in ' 51, I entered CUCP. Just as I entered the door, I heard the 8:50 bell ring. Quick like a jackrabbit I hustled down the un- familiar steps to the locker room, and once down there I came upon a great labyrinth. After circling the place for five minutes, I found my locker. Throwing my saddle in, I started on a almost endless trek to the fifth floor. On the fifth floor I walked into the C.C. course conducted by Tricky Dick Heffner. I learned that two big fat books were required for the course. The introductions proved to be very interesting. When Tricky Dick got tired of lecturing, he would ask one of his learned students to take over for a spell. Mr. Woogin always volunteered and, by the way, who is the man on the mountain? After the 9:50 bell I mosied out into the hall almost to be trampled down by a stampede of wild horses, or, now as I recollect, they must have been seniors. Cringing against the wall, I waited for them to pass and then calmly walked down to room 45, where the English class had begun. To pass tests, I found out, one had to have friends in the first section, who took the tests, and gave you the answers. But the ' Smarter Students ' bought the book from which the tests were taken. After standing around for a half hour to buy a container of milk and leaning up against the wall to eat my lunch because there weren ' t any seats, I proceeded to the larger lecture hall. As soon as the bell rang, Ma Bailey announced that we were two weeks behind in our work and that there would be a test next week. It turned out that there were tests every week, and on the days that no tests were assigned, little five minute quizzes were given. Seats were divied out according to your average. The higher your seat number the higher was your average. How come Shelly Gordon was sitting in seat 505? Bomance bloomed in this class, as two unknown lovers sent notes on the attendance sheet. But it seemed that after a while a triangle developed and it soon turned into a class affair.

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endpoint on his first determination, but he was truly one of the great leaders of the West. Sam ' s unforgettable advice to some of us is still uncontestably the greatest. ' Why don ' t you just give up and open a dry goods store? ' Oh well, thank God we didn ' t have to . . . In September ' 53 we were still sitting tall in the saddle. However, some of the boys dropped along the wayside to start their lives anew. This was the year of danger and peril. Explosions and fires were not uncommon — in fact each able bodied man was assigned to the fire extinguishing squad. Terror lurked in every corner ... of the Chemistry lab. Before one went up to room 61 it was advisable to see Gaylord Hellerbach on insurance rates. Even in Chemistry lecture, as endless formulas and reactions were being scribbled on the board, men shook in terror, afraid of receiving a threatening note from the Grey Ramus or the Sundance Kid ... to band against these outlaws, Marshall Rubin asked for volunteers for the Vigilante Committee. Barn dances and town meetings were held with the sole function of banning these two desperados. But as the formulas got more confusing and the lectures turned into dribbles, the desperados left for different stompin ' grounds, along with Frank Berger, our dearly departed friend. Down on the ground floor of the ranch house, there was mystery behind a door marked 10. In there dwelt a man known as Slick Joe the Dude. One look from Joe and boys melted like Cocoa Butter. But as the prescriptions were being knocked out, this wrangler changed from a hard desperado to an all right hombre. Much of what we know today we owe to him. We learned everything from how Eskimos build igloos in Greenland, to how to apologize to a sawbones when calling him — hoping you ' re not bothering him when he has such a busy schedule. Everything in this lab had to do with technique. Practicals were given ad lib. Armed with USP and NF we were asked to compound concoctions with one hand on the telephone ready to call the doc to ask for permission to DTD or change an overdose or to tell him that you spotted an incompatibility and dispense the Rx correctly. The doctor was kept awfully busy. Overseers were constantly walking around ready with red pencil to spot wrong techniques and ask ' How many IT you make ' ... ' I made one suppository too many — what should I do with it? ' . . . The old prospector, Mortimorlie ' s uncle was reintroduced to us in Physiology. All with educated fingers were eligible for this course. Fingers could produce all sorts of stimuli; contraction and relaxation, tetanus, clonus. The death rate of frogs was enlarged 100 fold, in fact, they were being pithed so fast that an emergency was declared. Not having completely worn our fingers to the bone, Wee Willie was back for a return performance. This course was very stimulating, or so it was to Blackjack Lou Stone who had enough energy to bring Remington to school every day. Crystal