Knox College - Gale Yearbook (Galesburg, IL)

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Seniors AT GOOD OLD SIWASH GEORGE FITCH

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KNOX COLLEGE The Senior Class One bright September day in 1931 two seniors stood at the doorway of Old Main. They were discussing the freshman class which had just entered the school. “Tl tell vou, Si,’ said one. “‘This here now gang of freshies is perhaps the most illustrious aggregation ever to enter the portals of Old Siwash.” The other shifted his wad to his other cheek, and spat dexterously at a sophomore. Said he, “By cracky, Emmett, I do believe you're right. There seems to be something congenital- ly genteel about them. In short, I predict a great future for them.” And he was right. Little did that unknown prophet realize how neatly, con- cisely, and epigrammatically he had summed up the situation. In fact, “congeni- tally genteel” isn’t the half of it. And what we didn’t already know we picked up easily. In fact, we soon learned to pick up anything that wasn’t kept behind the es Sree counters. But that came later. By the middle of our first semester we had learned that it was not considered au fait to push the profs and girls off the sidewalk, and by the time we were sewed into our winter underwear we had successfully mastered the more intricate social graces, including the buck-and-wing, the mazurka, and the tortilla. Between cokes we went to classes, and by means of hard work, diligent study, and earnest tubing we managed to fool the profs into letting us get by. Rushing came and went, and the more gullible of us were signed up by the fraternities and sororities. What a thrill! Frat men at Old Siwash! The next two years were noteworthy. During these two years the football team lost sixteen straight games, running the total to nineteen. In Whiting Hall there was a fire one night which threatened to assume the size, ferocity, and ravag- ing power of an electric light bulb. Each panic-stricken girl applied fresh lipstick, powder and rouge, grabbed her cigarettes and dance programs, and waited for a big, brawny fireman to come and carry her out. At the close of our junior year the renovation of Old Main was completed, and plans were well under way for the Centennial. Then came our senior year. The football team lost eight more games and gained national prominence as its losing streak approached, and finally tied, the national record of twenty-seven straight losses. McLemore, Pegler and others discovered Knox, and dwelt upon her remarkable record. Old Siwash was headline copy in any paper in the country. In the Theater, “Of Thee I Sing” was presented, this being the first amateur performance of the Broadway stage hit. The basketball team won its second successive Midwest Conference basketball title. The debate team raged unchecked through all opposition, and the parties were noisier than ever. There were more pins hung than in any preceding calendar year. Yes, we more than lived up to that forgotten senior’s augering. We were just a bunch of diamonds in the rough, and now, as we leave, in all our blinding glory and beauty, Old Siwash is i ndeed left in the hole. Our only handicap is—we hate ourselves. cS) ws