BANNISTER GIVES HICKS A SURPRISE PARTY
"We have come to the close of our college days.
Golden campus years soon must end;
From Bannister we shall go our ways--
And friend shall part from friend!
On our Alma Mater now we gaze,
And our eyes are filled with tears;
For we've come to the close of our college days,
And the end of our campus years!"
Mr. Thomas Haviland Hicks, Sr., Bannister, '92; Yale, '96, and Pittsburgh
millionaire "Steel King," stood at the window of Thomas Haviland Hicks,
Jr.'s, room, his arm across the shoulders of that sunny-souled Senior, his
only son and heir. Father and son stood, gazing down at the campus. On the
Gym steps was a group of Seniors, singing songs of old Bannister, songs
tinged with sadness. Up to Hicks' windows, on the warm June: night, drifted
the 1916 Class Ode, to the beautiful tune, "A Perfect Day." Over before the
Science Hall, a crowd of joyous alumni laughed over narratives of their
campus escapades. Happy undergraduates, skylarking on the campus,
celebrated the end of study, and gazed with some awe at the Seniors, in cap
and gown, suddenly transformed into strange beings, instead of old comrades
and college-mates.
"'The close of our college days, and the end of our campus years--!'"
quoted Mr. Hicks, a mist before his eyes as he gazed at the scene. "In a
few days, Thomas, comes the final parting from old Bannister--I know it
will be hard, for _I_ had to leave the dear old college, and also Yale. But
you have made a splendid record in your studies, you have been one of
the most popular fellows here, and--you have vastly pleased your Dad, by
winning your B in the high-jump."
T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.'s, last study-sprint was at an end, the final Exams.
of his Senior year had been passed with what is usually termed flying
colors; and to the whole-souled delight of the lovable youth, he and little
Theophilus Opperdyke, the Human Encyclopedia, had, as Hicks chastely
phrased it, "run a dead heat for the Valedictory!" So close had their
final averages been that the Faculty, after much consideration, decided to
announce at the Commencement exercises that the two Seniors had tied for
the highest collegiate honors, and everyone was satisfied with the verdict.
So, now it was all ended; the four years of study, athletics, campus
escapades, dormitory skylarking--the golden years of college life, were
about to end for 1919. Commencement would officially start on the morrow,
but tonight, in the Auditorium, would be held the annual Athletic
Association meeting, when those happy athletes who had won their B during
the year would have it presented, before the assembled collegians, by
one-time gridiron, track, and diamond heroes of old Bannister.
And--the ecstatic Hicks would have his track B, his white letter, won in
the high-jump, thanks to Caesar Napoleon's assistance, awarded him by his
beloved Dad, the greatest all-round athlete that ever wore the Gold and
Green! Mr. Thomas Haviland Hicks, Sr., _en route_ to New Haven and Yale in
his private car, "Vulcan," had reached town that day, together with other
members of Bannister College, Class of '92. They, as did all the old
grads., promptly renewed past memories and associations by riding up to
College Hill in Dan Flannagan's jitney-bus--a youthful, hilarious crowd of
alumni. Former students, alumni, parents of graduating Seniors, friends,
sweethearts--every train would bring its quota. The campus would again
throb and pulsate with that perennial quickening--Commencement. Three days
of reunions, Class Day exercises, banquets, and other events, then the
final exercises, and--T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., would be an alumnus!
"It's like Theophilus told Thor, last fall, Dad," said the serious Hicks.
"You know what Shakespeare said: 'This thou perceivest, which makes thy
love more strong; To love that well which thou must leave ere long.' Now
that I soon shall leave old Bannister, I--I wish I had studied more, had
done bigger things for my Alma Mater! And for you, Dad, too; I've won a B,
but perhaps, had I trained and exercised more, I might have annexed another
letter--still; hello, what's Butch hollering--?"
Big Butch Brewster, his pachydermic frame draped in his gown, and his
mortar-board cap on his head, for the Seniors were required to wear their
regalia during Commencement week, was bellowing through a megaphone, as he
stood on the steps of Bannister Hall, and Mr. Hicks, with his cheerful son,
listened:
"Everybody--Seniors, Undergrads., Alumni--in the Auditorium at eight sharp!
We are going to give Mr. Hicks and T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., a surprise
party--don't miss the fun!"
"Now, just what does Butch mean, Dad?" queried the bewildered Senior.
"Something is in the wind. For two days, the fellows have had a secret
from me--they whisper and plot, and when _I_ approach, loudly talk of
athletics, or Commencement! Say, Butch--_Butch_--I ain't a-comin' tonight,
unless you explain the mystery."
"Oh, yes, you be, old sport!" roared Butch, from the campus, employing the
megaphone, "or you don't get your letter! Say, Hicks, one sweetly solemn
thought attacks me--old Bannister is puzzling _you_ with a mystery, instead
of vice versa, as is usually the case."
"Well, Thomas," said Mr. Hicks, his face lighted by a humorous, kindly
smile, as he heard the storm of good-natured jeers at Hicks, Jr., that
greeted Butch Brewster's fling, "I'll stroll downtown, and see if any of
my old comrades came on the night express. I'll see you at the Athletic
Association meeting, for I believe I am to hand you the B. I can't imagine
what this 'surprise party' is, but I don't suppose it will harm us. It will
surely be a happy moment, son, when I present you with the athletic letter
you worked so hard to win."
When T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.'s, beloved Dad had gone, his firm stride
echoing down the corridor, that blithesome, irrepressible collegian, whom
old Bannister had come to love as a generous, sunny-souled youth, stood
again by the window, gazing out at the campus. Now, for the first time, he
fully realized what a sad occasion a college Commencement really is--to
those who must go forth from their Alma Mater forever. With almost the
force of a staggering blow, Hicks suddenly saw how it would hurt to leave
the well-loved campus and halls of old Bannister, to go from those comrades
of his golden years. In a day or so, he must part from good Butch, Pudge,
Beef, Ichabod, Monty, Roddy, Cherub, loyal little Theophilus and all his
classmates of '19, as well as from his firm friends of the undergraduates.
It would be the parting from the youths of his class that would cost him
the greatest regret. Four years they had lived together the care-free
campus life. From Freshmen to Seniors they had grown and developed
together, and had striven for 1919 and old Bannister, while a love for
their Alma Mater had steadily possessed their hearts. And now soon they
must sing, "Vale, Alma Mater!" and go from the campus and corridors, as
Jack Merritt, Heavy Hughes, Biff McCabe, and many others had done before
them.
Of course, they would return to old Bannister. There would be alumni
banquets at mid-year and Commencement, with glad class reunions each year.
They would come back for the big games of the football or baseball season.
But it would never be the same. The glad, care-free, golden years of
college life come but once, and they could never live them, as of old.
"Caesar's Ghost!" ejaculated T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., making a dive for his
beloved banjo, as he awakened to the startling fact that for some time he
had been intensely serious. "This will never, never do. I must maintain my
blithesome buoyancy to the end, and entertain old Bannister with my musical
ability. Here goes."
Assuming a striking pose, _à la_ troubadour, at the open window, T.
Haviland Hicks, Jr., a somewhat paradoxical figure, his splinter-structure
enshrouded in the gown, the cap on his classic head, this regalia symbolic
of dignity, and the torturesome banjo in his grasp, twanged a ragtime
accompaniment, and to the bewilderment of the old Grads on the campus, as
well as the wrath of 1919, he roared in his fog-horn voice:
"Oh, I love for to live in the country!
And I love for to live on the farm!
I love for to wander in the grass-green fields--
Oh, a country life has the charm!
I love for to wander in the garden--
Down by the old haystack;
Where the pretty little chickens go 'Kick-Kack-Kackle!'
And the little docks go 'Quack! Quack!'"
From the Seniors on the Gym steps, their dignified song rudely shattered by
this rollicking saenger-fest, came a storm of protests; to the unbounded
delight of the alumni, watching the scene with interest, shouts, jeers,
whistles, and cat-calls greeted Hicks' minstrelsy:
"Tear off his cap and gown--he's a disgrace to '19!"
"Shades of Schumann-Heink--give that calf more rope!"
"Ye gods--how long must we endure--that?"
"Hicks, a Senior--nobody home--can that noise!"
"Shoot him at sunrise! Where's his Senior dignity?"
Big Butch Brewster, referring to his watch, bellowed through the megaphone
that it was nearly eight o'clock, and loudly suggested that they forcibly
terminate Hicks' saengerfest, and spare the town police force a riot call
to the campus, by transporting the pestiferous youth to the Auditorium,
for his "surprise party." His idea finding favor, he, with Beef and Pudge,
somewhat hampered by their gowns, lumbered up the stairway of Bannister,
and down the third-floor corridor to the offending Hicks' boudoir, followed
by a yelling, surging crowd of Seniors and underclassmen. They invaded the
graceless youth's room, much to the pretended alarm of that torturesome
collegian, who believed that the entire student-body of old Bannister had
foregathered to wreak vengeance on his devoted head.
"_Mercy_! Have a heart, fellows!" plead T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., helpless in
the clutches of Butch, Beef, and Pudge, "I won't never do it no more, no
time! Say, this is too much--much too much--too much much too much--I,
Oh--_help--aid--succor--relief--assistance--"_
"To the Auditorium with the wretch!" boomed Butch; and the splinter-youth
was borne aloft, on his broad shoulders, assisted by Beef McNaughton. They
transported the grinning Hicks down the corridor, while fifty noisy youths,
howling, "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!" tramped after them. Downstairs
and across the campus the hilarious procession marched, and into the
Auditorium, where the students and alumni were gathering for the awarding
of the athletic B. A thunderous shout went up, as T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.,
was carried to the stage and deposited in a chair.
"_Hicks! Hicks! Hicks_! We've got a surprise for--_Hicks_!"
"Now, just what have I did to deserve all these?" grinned that
happy-go-lucky youth, puzzled, nevertheless. "Well, time will tell, so all
I can do is to possess my soul with impatience; old Bannister has a mystery
for me, this trip!"
In fifteen minutes, the Athletic Association meeting opened. On the stage,
beside its officers, were those athletes, including T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.,
who were to receive that coveted reward--their B, together with a number of
one-time famous Bannister gridiron, track, basketball, and diamond stars.
Each youth was to receive his monogram from some ex-athlete who once wore
the Gold and Green, and Hicks' beloved Dad--Bannister's greatest hero--was
to present his son with the letter.
There were speeches; the Athletic Association's President explained the
annual meeting, former Bannister students and athletic idols told of past
triumphs on Bannister Field; the football Championship banner, and the
baseball pennant were flaunted proudly, and each team-captain of the year
was called upon to talk. Mr. Thomas Haviland Hicks, Sr., a great favorite
on the campus, delivered a ringing speech, an appeal to the undergraduates
for clean living, and honorable sportsmanship, and then:
"We now come to the awarding of the athletic B," stated the President. "The
Secretary will call first the name of the athlete, and then the alumnus who
will present him with the letter. In the name of the Athletic Association
of old Bannister, I congratulate those fellows who are now to be rewarded
for their loyalty to their Alma Mater!"
Thrilled, T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., watched his comrades, as they responded
to their names, and had the greatest glory, the B, placed in their hands by
past Bannister athletic heroes. Butch, Beef, Roddy, Monty, Ichabod, Biff,
Hefty, Tug, Buster, Deacon Radford, Cherub, Don, Skeet, Thor, who had
won the hammer-throw. These, and many others, having earned the award by
playing in three-fourths of a season's games on the eleven or the nine, or
by winning a first place in some track event, stepped forward, and were
rewarded. Some, as good Butch, had gained their B many times, but the fact
that this was their last letter, made the occasion a sad one. Every name
was called but that of T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., and that perturbed youth
wondered at the omission, when the President spoke:
"The last name," he said, smiling, "is that of Thomas Haviland Hicks, Jr.,
and we are glad to have his father present the letter to his son, as Mr.
Thomas Haviland Hicks, Sr., is with us. However, we Bannister fellows have
prepared a surprise party for our lovable comrade, and I beg your patience
awhile, as I explain."
Graphically, Dad Pendleton described the wonderful all-round athletic
record made by Mr. Thomas Haviland Hicks, Sr., while at old Bannister, and
sketched briefly but vividly his phenomenal record at Yale; he told of
Mr. Hicks' great ambition, for his only son, Thomas, to follow in his
footsteps--to be a star athlete, and shatter the marks made by his Dad.
Then he reminded the Bannister students of T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.'s,
athletic fiascos, hilarious and otherwise, of three years. He explained how
that cheery youth, grinning good-humoredly at his comrades' jeers, had been
in earnest, striving to realize his father's ambition. As the spellbound
collegians and grads. listened, Dad chronicled Hicks' dogged persistence,
and how he finally, in his Senior year, won his track B in the high-jump.
Then he described the biggest game of the past football season, the contest
that brought the Championship to old Bannister. The youths and alumni heard
how T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., made a great sacrifice, for the greater goal;
how, after training faithfully in secret for a year, hoping sometime to win
a game for his Alma Mater, he cheerfully sacrificed his chance to tie the
score by a drop-kick, and became the pivotal part of a fake-kick play that
won for the Gold and Green.
"I have left Hicks' name until last," said Dad, with a smile, "because
tonight we have a surprise party for our sunny comrade, and for his Dad. In
the past, the eligibility rule, as regards the football and baseball B, has
been--an athlete must play on the 'Varsity in three-fourths of the season's
games. But, just before the Hamilton game, last fall, the Advisory Board of
the Athletic Association amended this rule.
"We decided to submit to the required two-thirds majority vote of the
students this plan, inasmuch as many athletes, toiling and sacrificing all
season for their college, never get to win their letter, yet deserve
that reward for their loyalty, we suggested that Bannister imitate the
universities. Anyone sent into the Yale-Harvard game, you know, wins his
H or Y. If one team is safely ahead, a lot of scrubs are run into the
scrimmage, to give them their letter. Therefore, we--the Advisory
Board--made this rule: 'Any athlete taking part, for any period of time
whatsoever, in the Ballard football or baseball game as a regular member of
the first team shall be eligible for his Gold or Green B. This rule, upon
approval of the students, to be effective from September 25!'
"Now," continued the Athletic Association President, "we decided to keep
this new ruling a secret until the present, for this reason: Many good
football and baseball players, not making the first teams, lack the loyalty
to stick on the scrubs, and others, not as brilliant, but with more
college spirit, give their best until the season's end. We knew that if we
announced this rule last fall, several slackers, who had quit the squad,
would come out again, just on the hope of getting sent into the Ballard
game, for their B. This would not be fair to those who loyally stuck to the
scrubs. So we did not announce the rule until the year closed, and then a
practically unanimous vote of the students made the rule effective from
September 25. So--all athletes who took part in the Ballard football game,
last fall, for any period of time whatsoever, are eligible for the gold B,
and the same, as regards the green letter, applies to the Ballard baseball
game this spring."
T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., gasped. Slowly, the glorious truth dawned on the
happy-go-lucky Senior--he had been sent into the Bannister-Ballard football
game; the crucial and deciding play had turned on him, hence he had won his
gold letter! And thanks to his brilliant "mismanaging" of the nine, losing
shortstop Skeet Wigglesworth and the substitutes, he had played the entire
nine innings of the Ballard-Bannister baseball contest, and, therefore,
was eligible for his green B. In a dazed condition, he heard Dad Pendleton
saying:
"You remember how T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., was sent into the Ballard
game, and how the fake-play fooled Ballard, who believed he would try
a drop-kick? Well, knowing Hicks to be eligible for his football B, we
planned a surprise party. The Advisory Board kept the new rule a secret,
and not until this week was it voted on. Then, the required two-thirds
majority made it effective from last September--we managed to have Hicks
absent from the voting, and the fellows helped us with our surprise! So
instead of Mr. Thomas Haviland Hicks, Sr., presenting his son with one
B, that for track work, we are glad to hand him _three_ letters, one for
football, one for baseball, and one for track, to give our own T. Haviland
Hicks, Jr. And, let me add, he can accept them with a clear conscience, for
when the rule was made by the Advisory Board, we had no idea that Hicks
would ever be eligible in football or baseball."
A moment of silence, and then undergraduates and alumni, thrilled at Dad
Pendleton's announcement, arose in a body, and howled for T. Haviland
Hicks, Jr., and his beloved Dad. Mr. Hicks, unable to speak, silently
placed the three monograms, gold, green, and white, in his son's hands, and
placed his own on the shoulders of that sunny-souled Senior, who for once
in his heedless career could not say a word!
"What's the matter with Hicks?" Big Butch Brewster roared, and a terrific
response sounded:
"He's all right! Hicks! Hicks! Hicks!"
For ten minutes pandemonium reigned. Then, regardless of the fact that, in
order to surprise Mr. Hicks and his son, other athletes, eligible under the
new rule, had yet to be presented with their B, the howling youths swarmed
on the stage, hoisted the grinning T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., and his happy
Dad to their shoulders, and started a wild parade around the campus and the
Quadrangle, singing:
"Here's to our own Hicks--drink it down! Drink it down! Here's to our own
Hicks--drink it down! Drink it down! Here's to our own Hicks--When he
starts a thing, he sticks--Drink it down--drink it down--down! Down!
Down!"
T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., aloft on the shoulders of his behemoth class-mate,
Butch Brewster, was deliriously happy. The surprise party of his campus
comrades was a wonderful one, and he could scarcely realize that he had
actually, by the Athletic Association ruling, won his three B's! How glad
his beloved Dad, was, too. He had not expected this bewildering happiness.
He had been so joyous, when his sort earned the track letter, but to
have him leave old Bannister, with a B for three sports--it was almost
unbelievable! And, as Dad had said--there had been no thought of Hicks when
the Advisory Board made the rule, so Hicks had no reason to suppose it was
done just to award him his letter.
Then, Hicks remembered that rash vow, made at the end of his Freshman year,
a vow uttered with absolutely no other thought than a desire to torment
Butch Brewster, "Before I graduate from old Bannister, I shall have won
my B in three branches of sport!" Never, not even for a moment, had the
happy-go-lucky youth believed that his wild prophecy would be fulfilled,
though he had pretended to be confident to tease his loyal comrades; but
now, at the very end of his campus days, just before he graduated, his
prediction had come true! So the sunny Senior, who four years before had
made his rash vow, saw its realization, and suddenly thrilled with the
knowledge that he had a golden opportunity to make Butch indignant.
"Oh, I say, Butch," he drawled, nonchalantly, leaning down to talk in
Butch's ear, "do you recall that day, at the close of our Freshman year,
when I vowed to win my B in three branches of sport, ere I bade farewell to
old Bannister?"
"No, you don't get away with that!" exploded Butch Brewster, indignantly,
lowering his tantalizing classmate to terra firma. "Here, Beef, Pudge,
catch this wretch; he intends to swagger and say--"
But he was too late, for T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., dodging from his grasp,
imitated the celebrated Charley Chaplin strut, and satiated his fun-loving
soul. After waiting for three years, the irrepressible youth realized an
ambition he had never imagined would be fulfilled.
"Oh, just leave it to Hicks!" quoth he, gladsomely. "I told you I'd win
my three B's, Butch, old top, and--_ow_!--unhand me, you villain, you
_hurt_!"