Short Stories and Tall Tales: My First Senior Class Party (The Citadel)

One of the first time knobs (freshman) got to leave The Citadel campus was for our first Senior Class Party. The senior classes have traditionally thrown off campus parties on Saturday after the formal balls held Friday nights. Southern debutantes flock to Charleston for the Homecoming, Ring Hop, Parents Day and other formal dances that were held on Fridays. Saturday the party would move off campus to a location with less discipline. In my day our favorite location was the Folly Beach Pier. The name fit.

The Senior Class always threw a great party. Attendance was highly encouraged. Ticket sales funded the event. We had some really great bands. Most parties had two. Typically there would be a rock band and a beach band. They would play alternating sets. We had many bands that went on to great success such as The Showmen (predecessor of the Chairmen of the Board) and Sha Na Na. Bowser stole the beer I laid on the front of the stage. I must have been holding it for a friend.

We got to leave campus so that we could attend. The Commandant even allowed curfew to be an hour later. Freshman and Sophomores had to be in an hour before the upper class men. An additional unofficial privilege allowed was that we could wear civvies at the party. I went stag. There had not been an opportunity to explore the area for the local girls. One of my classmates from the Charleston area had his car parked off campus which several us planned to use to get to Folly Beach. Once we arrived we changed into our civilian party clothes and joined the frivolity.

We enjoyed our brief freedom with enthusiasm. Typically these parties were BYOC. (Bring your own cooler). When the time to leave approached somehow my classmates had disappeared. Getting a ride would not be a problem but my missing uniform was a crisis. I sought out my squad sergeant whom I affectionately called Mr. Matthews for advice.

He was a junior and was allowed to return to campus wearing what we called a blazer uniform. It consisted of a blue blazer, white shirt, Citadel tie and grey pants. He also had the uniform in which he left campus which he offered for my use.Wearing a sergeant uniform to return to campus didn't seem to be a great idea but it was vastly superior to trying to return to the barracks in civilian clothes.

I had my ride drop me off behind the Padgett-Thomas Barracks. Mr. Matthews was a smaller man than I. His pants were two inches short and lacked three inches closing in the front. His dress blouse lacked more than four inches in the chest and the sleeves were short. His hat looked comical sitting on the back of my head. I was a sight with junior and sergeant stripes on my sleeve. My only hope of survival was to develop the swagger of a junior. The juniors and seniors would not return for another hour. My hope was to pull off one great bluff. I planned to stroll in the front gate and walk across the quadrangle. I hoped I would look like a slightly disheveled junior returning a little early. Freshman year you run while bracing within the open areas of the barracks. You don't earn the right to walk on the quadrangle until second semester of your sophomore year. If I could fool the corporal of the guard and the other sophomores hanging around the galleries I might just make it to my room and live.

As I turned the corner to walk to the front sally port I saw an Air Force Major approaching. I rendered a very proper hand salute and kept walking. Then I heard that terrifying word, "halt". He returned and looked me over with a very stern expression gracing his face. Then he smiled and asked me if I was a knob. I answered affirmatively. Knobs have a haircut that makes you resemble a door knob and thus the name. I was so glad this alumni officer was a spiritual man. He said, "May God have mercy on your soul. Carry on."

As I passed by the Corporal of the Guard I gave him a grunt to acknowledge his existence. He had questions in his eyes but lacked the courage to question an upperclassman. I cocked Matthew's cap further back on my head, opened the blouse further, and shoved my hands in the pockets. With a blend of swagger and a fained element of stagger I began my trip across the quadrangle. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a row of sophomores lining the rail of the H Company third floor balcony.

They didn't recognize this strolling junior and walked down to the stairwell and caught me when I reached the third floor. They had figured that a junior after partying a little strong had returned to the wrong barracks. I heard, "Barker" and a string of other comments deleted by the author. The committee of sophomore's were unsure of what to do with me. Finally one made a comment relating to my anatomy and sent me to my room. The crisis was over but the Class of 75 always held me in a slightly higher regard.