Growing Up Then and Now

Everybody has to leave!

My junior year in college I was lucky enough to take a course that included a trip to London, Paris, Rome and Malta with kids from a half-dozen midwestern schools.  Round trip plane fare, three weeks of hotel rooms and meals, plus college credits, all for under $1,000 (1971 dollars).   Made a bunch of new friends, including a small town Iowa guy who was the quarterback of the Luther College football team.   In Paris he and I went out-on-the-town looking for some action (a bar with single girls).  We headed to the only place we’d heard about, the Moulin Rouge.  Most of the bars had some guy in front saying “Girls, Girls, Girls, Come Right In,” but it all seemed too red-lightish to me and I said to my friend, “Let’s find some other part of town with real girls.”

A football QB in Paris

After having no success in any part of town, he convinced me to return to the Moulin Rouge.  It was well past midnite.  There was still one guy hawking in front of an establishment, and no cover charge, so we went in.  Sure enough as soon as we sat down at the bar, two pretty girls sidled up to us.  “Whiis-keey for meee?” they asked sounding more French than English.  Sure we said, but when the bartender said that’ll be 45 francs each (like $50 in today’s money), I knew we’d been taken.  But lo and behold, we were invited down some stairs into a private room with a dance floor, soft music, low lights, and plush red couches.  Okay, I thought, maybe this will be worth it.  Then my quarterback friend, Bill, whispered to me, “They want us to buy them a bottle of wine.”

“Are you kidding?!” I said, “Do you know how much a bottle of wine will cost??!!”

“I don’t care,” he said, “I’m doing it.”  A couple minutes later he was signing over every one of his Traveler’s Checks to the bar.  Okay, I thought, this should be fun.

But no sooner had we popped the cork, then one of the bouncer guys came down and said in perfectly good English, “Closing time – everybody has to leave.”  Now Bill was a pretty big guy, but this guy was bigger – and he had reinforcements, so despite our protestations, we were back out on the street with no girls and Bill with no money.  He was super-pissed.  We waited for awhile to see if anyone else came out or in, but no sign of life.  Then, from across the street, maybe 40 yards down, to my surprise and awe Bill heaved this perfect spiral of a rock right through their plate glass window — and I outran him to our hotel.

No virus found in this message.
Checked by AVG – www.avg.com
Version: 2013.0.3462 / Virus Database: 3658/6909 – Release Date: 12/10/13

By 1971 you could expect that most of the incoming freshmen class either regularly smoked dope or was open to trying it come the first Friday night someone else had some.  That was the reason the Blazers gave me for offering me the job.  They wanted someone who knew how to have fun – in moderation – and also maintain a decent GPA, someone who could relate to modern ways of having fun and be a good role model.  (Apparently they knew a little more about me than I thought was generally known – but this was probably because Head Resident Mr. Blazer’s sister, Barb, was one of those first and only dates I previously mentioned with whom I maintained a platonic relationship all through college.)

Showing my charges how to study and have fun

At any rate, I took my job seriously, and was able to keep it – even after the Dean arrived back in St. Paul and was livid at the Blazer’s decision.  I was already in the room, the freshmen had started moving-in, and so it was done deal.  The Blazers explained to the Dean that they thought I was the perfect choice to help this incoming group of freshmen actually do some studying.

After three weeks of being the perfect RA, making friends with my charges, dropping little tidbits about how to study enough not to flunk out, and not flipping-out when they all got stoned down in Tom’s room before heading off to the Moody Blues Concert,  I even tolerated Tom’s girlfriend Lisa spending the weekend after checking if it was okay with Tom’s roommate Gordy.  (It was – Gordy was sleeping down the hall in Harvey’s room because Harvey’s roommate had gone back home for the weekend.)  So things were good, and just about everybody seemed to like being at Hamline.

A month in, I figured it was time to let them know that I also smoked dope.  So that Friday night I got down the big bong pipe from my top shelf (that Huey had made me in pottery class), didn’t put the towel underneath the door – so the distinct smell of marijuana would escape into the hallway – and waited for the first one of my charges to knock and ask for a toke . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited.  No one came so I smoked another huge bowl to make sure the smell was out there.  No one ever knocked.

After about a half hour I decided to see what was up.  I opened the door and there they all were in the TV room across from my room, wide-eyed and exclaiming what an incredible last half hour it had been:

Gordy’s wallet had been stolen and so he called the cops.  Gordy’s room was down at the end of the hall and mine was the first one at the top of the stairs.  The cops arrived and had to walk right past my door.  They paused.  One lifted a hand as if to knock; the other waved his hand as if to say “Come on, let’s do what we came here to do.”  And that’s how it was in 1971.  The cops took down the info they needed to write a theft report, leaving just a minute before, and didn’t even pause on their way out the dormitory to deal with a college kid smoking pot.

P.S.  I am proud to say all my charges made it through freshman year and some went on to become famous contributors to making the world a better place.