University of Toronto Engineering Society - Skule Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

Page 25 text:

Audiences were treated to a myriad of bizarre scenes and characters: martians, Fred Mertz the fairy godmother, a disco, test-tube babies, the Nutcracker Sweat, Middle-East Side Story, lovable genetic mutants, and a whole slew of assorted Hollywood characters. Sold-out houses were reliably enthusiastic every night (once rambunctiously so) and when it ultimately ended, Skule Nite 8T0 had become the success that everyone thought it would be. After all, why should this year be any different? The legend continues. 21 Onstage photos by Mike Garamszeghy

Page 27 text:

THE WRECK OF THE SIR SANFORD FLEMING The legend lives on from King’s College on down, Of the briquette they call Sandford Fleming. The place, it is said, became one of the dead, When Room 126 was a’flaming. With computers in store, several thousand times more Students’ names and their marks could be kept there. The maintenance crew was a bone to be chewed, For not once had a janitor swept there . The place was a sty, and the home of Eng Sci, Which somehow avoided the fire checks. As old buildings go, it was older than most, It was older than even the Annex. In spite of cold spells, it was hotter than Hell, Though the temperature soon would get higher. And later that night, when the fire bells rang out, Could it be that the place was on fire? The smoke and the flames made a tattletale sign, As the cruel wind gave fuel to the tinder. And everyone knew that an Update was due, And Sir Sandord would soon be a cinder. But the warnings came late, and this sealed the fate Of the biggest of all Eng Sci smokers. The firemen they came and they prayed for some rain, They thought it the work of some jokers. . . When two o’clock came, many men were on hand, In an effort to save all the tape reels. By 3:30 A. M. the whole roof had caved in, And eight men were hurt in the ordeal. Then Galbraith wired in, she had water coming in And the basement was practically swimming. And later that day, all anybody would say, ‘See the wreck of the Sir Sandford Fleming?’ Does anyone know where the love of God goes, When the flames turn the theses to powder? The fireman say it would still have decayed In five years if the flames hadn’t got her. Well, it might have decayed if it hadn’t burned down, But it surely did take on some water. And all that remained was the sign with the name, And even that was starting to totter. The damages rise, while Sir Sandford dies, And the EUT goes underwater. Oh, estimates soar, ten million and more, The 370 just missed being solder. But classes did go, as the engineers know, As if the blaze never had started. And the people did stare at the shell standing there, Remains of an era departed. In old Simcoe Hall, in the Council they said, ‘We’ll just start to rebuild us another. If something remains, and it can be reclaimed, It will carry the name of its father.’ The legend lives on from King’s College on down, Of the briquette they called Sandford Fleming, The place, it was said, became one of the dead When Room 126 was a ’flaming. 23