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Mid-September, 1958: The temperature was in the high eighty's as the Class of 1962 entered the sleepy town of Blacksburg, VA, with our parents or siblings in tow to help us unpack and begin our college experience at VPI — not VPI & SU, not “Vaw” Tech, just VPI. Those of us in Band Company moved into our dorm rooms in East Eggleston and made our way to the VPI Tailor Shop to acquire those wonderful “all-season” uniforms — 100% heavy wool. We were lulled into a blissful state by President Newman who invited us to his home above the Duck Pond for ice cream. What a wonderful, friendly place! They even gave us a book on Social Customs and Courtesies (table manners, good grooming, etc.), and a Cadet Supplement, which gave helpful hints on making our bed, arranging our closet, saluting, etc. This book stated that the term “rat” had not been used since 1935. We would be called “Mister!” Obviously we would be shown respect! We were in control and ready for college and the Corps of Cadets!
Then, we were left with a void in our lives as our parents, our siblings, or our hometown friends departed. But, no void for long! That was quickly filled by the returning upperclassmen, especially the helpful members of the sophomore class. They made us very aware that we were not just members of the regimental band, we were Highty Tighties (albeit lower than whale sh*t, which is at the bottom of the sea). Our cohesiveness as a class was shaped by their guiding hands during the next three quarters. We proudly wore the white citation cord! Elsewhere on this web site, we will share some of the events that shaped our lives during that time.
Most of our time was spent in class, on the practice field, or in our rooms as we soon discovered that there was little for “rats” to do in the rare idle time we had. Even a quick scurry down the hall to the head risked the potential of a demerit for gazing or failing to speak to a superior. However, we managed to have our fair share of adventures, a few even having been recorded for historical purposes.
Other than the Lyric Theater, the only other entertainment was a bowling alley, just outside the five-mile limit which could not be reached without a pass. Eating out consisted of one pizza parlor, a greasy-spoon diner, or the Squires Hall snack bar. The last resort was the Mess Hall, full of those dreaded upper classmen that made the dining experience a chore, not to mention trying to force down the delicious food, itself. Remember how they served grits and cream-of-wheat out of the same container — the difference being whether you put butter and pepper on them or milk! Remember how they faked us out by crushing a real egg shell into the powdered scrambled eggs! Remember that dogs sometimes wandered into the mess hall, but refused to eat food scraps tossed to them. Once there was a dog fight in the mess hall and the Administration put their foot down! When the dogs disappeared, we had mystery meat for a week! Is that why we shouted, “Last call to growley, Sir”?
Are those last stories true, or myth? A missing dog named Growley was already a myth in our time. But, our collective as well as individual memories of that era seem to be dimming. Thus, some of what is found on this web site may be true or may be myth. It is not our intent to lie as we still cherish the Honor Code. But, we cannot help it if we create a myth or two in recording our stories! Better to confirm what a classmate says than admit to a senior moment. As Mark Twain once wrote, “Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please.” Without a doubt, our most famous memory is no myth, the presidential inaugural parade of 1961. Blackburg had no paved roads wide enough to simulate marching on a street the width of Pennsylvania Ave. Yet we made it happen! We helped make JFK's inaugural, a “three-peat” for the Highty Tighties.
Times have changed! Arguably, we were part of the last grand era of the Corps. VPI consisted of a bit over 5000 students, about half in the Corps. At times, the Highty Tighties could field an impressive 12 by 12 block formation. Shortly after we left Tech, ROTC became totally optional and the Corps declined drastically in size as the school and civilian student population grew rapidly. We called our roommates “old-ladies,” not the gender-less, but now politically correct term “buds.” Of course, females were not allowed in the dorms, much less in the band. We were the band at VPI, not just one of the bands. We performed our half-time shows in old Miles Stadium, not the monstrous Lane Stadium. Our arch rival in Southern Conference sports was the Keydets of VMI, not the Wahoo's of Virginia, who were just another game. Our mascot was the Fighting Gobbler, not the Hokie Bird. Our teams wore the orange and maroon, not white and orange (like U. of Tennessee or Clemson). Our pep band performed for basketball in the confines of the War Memorial Gym until near the end of our Tech years. Most high schools of today play in better and larger facilities than we did. Would we have wanted it any other way, however! But there were regrets. Our class was unique in that we were the only class of those immediately before and after us that never lived in the legendary Band Company dorm — Lane Hall.
It has been said that the only constant into today's world is change. Many of us have had more than one career since leaving Tech, some of which did not even exist upon graduation. Our careers span the disciplines of engineering, computer science, business/finance, education, agriculture, the ministry, and the military. Two constants remain, however. We of the Band Company Class of 1962 were, are, and shall always be Highty Tighty! And, we are still Mighty! (Although, some may suggest mighty old!)
We hope that classmates, and others as well, enjoy this Class of 62 Highty Tighty web site! Feel free to email the webmaster if you find errors or omissions.
Classmates: please use the Message Board or Newsletter capability of this web site to stay in touch and share your memories and achievements. Our goal is for this web site to remain an ever-changing reflection on both our VPI experiences and our current lives.
— kdc, 2002 |