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Thank You, Sir, May I Have Another?

By Daniel Balserak | Tuesday, October 19, 2004

I admit my ignorance right off the bat—I have only the faintest inkling of what the rush process here at Dartmouth is like. At Zeta Psi, my fraternity, rush is held wholly outside of—and prior to—the College-sanctioned process, and with all the formality and decorum of the proverbial fox in the hen-house. But now that I read John Fitzgerald's 1962 treatise, A Complete Guide to College Fraternity Rushing and Pledging, I know all about rush, and would be really good at rushing and pledging were I to go through it again somehow.

For instance, at Dartmouth our system is an example of "deferred rush," meaning that even the sweetest guys on campus must wait until their sophomore year to rush a fraternity, house, rig, boom-boom lodge, &c. This is, of course, in stark contrast to 'open rush,' in which bids are shoveled onto vulnerable freshmen before they even set foot on campus. Mr. Fitzgerald relates an anecdote of a common practice during open rush in which fraternity members board a college-bound train a few stops before campus and have their letters pinned on a freshman sprig by the time he arrives at the station. For fairly obvious reasons, however, open rush is being replaced by systems more akin to the progressive approach we take at Dear Old Dartmouth.

As all most likely noticed, fraternity rush took place just this past weekend. The minorities who rushed and sank or did not sink a bid at one of our hallowed fraternities may have had some apprehension about how their, ahem, "disadvantaged" religious or ethnic background would affect their chances of acceptance at their preferred respective fraternities. This concern is sadly justified. "It can be said without qualification," Mr. Fitzgerald writes, "that the American College Fraternities practice, almost universally, systematic, formalized discrimination on the basis of race, ethnic origin, and religion." In 1953, Phi Delta Theta (to which our Phi Delta Alpha formerly belonged) suspended its William and Amherst chapters for pledging "non-aryans" in blatant disregard of their constitution's stipulation that all brothers be endowed with "full aryan blood." Beyond the system's failure to integrate blacks, fraternities frequently discriminate against Jews, Catholics, students of Southern European descent, and foreigners in general. This is in addition, of course, to the "taboo against orientals."

One should not embark on rush in the first place without a reasonable familiarity with the terminology common to the process. Although Dartmouth may use the abbreviation "GDI" (God-Damn Independent) as a term for an unaffiliated student, throughout the rest of the country the more popular slang is "barbarian," which I find superior in its divisive quality. At rush parties, desirable rushes may find themselves locked in scintillating conversation with "riggers," the smooth-talkers of the fraternity whose designated job during rush is to woo the fraternity's top picks. When push comes to shove, a lucky rush might be taken upstairs to the "Hotbox," where several riggers bombard him with their best hard sells in an attempt to procure a commitment to pledge. And when pledge term starts, the fledgling frat boys might know the upperclassman in charge of their pledge activities as "Scut-master" (the pledges themselves being the "scut").

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. How does one convince a roomful of strangers to be his brothers? Unfortunately for Dartmouth students, rush demands the sort of small talk and interpersonal relations that our pong-based social system actively discourages. What is worse, to pick up on the subtle signals and clues necessary to a well-executed rush, Mr. Fitzgerald insists that sobriety is a must: "On every campus, a few men, to 'relax,' or to 'set themselves up,' have a few drinks before rushing. To arrive having had this kind of 'relaxation' or 'setting up' is utter madness." Utter madness!

What, then, is a sober and stammering rush to do? Mr. Fitzgerald goes on to offer tips about how today's aspiring fraternity man can survive the pressure of rush with grace and aplomb. For example, one ought to find time to read the newspaper each day. He will thus be armed with a command of current events that will serve him well in forced conversation at rush parties. When asked their opinion on the situation in Vietnam, too many unprepared rushes must make the embarrassing admission that they haven't had time to keep up on their newspaper reading. There are few things more contemptible in the Greek system than a man who is not up on current events.

Even before rush begins, in fact, the freshman who already knows which fraternity he wants to pledge can start to get a leg up on the field. A sure-fire way to do this is to ask an acquaintance who is an alumnus of the fraternity to write a letter to the fraternity's rush committee recommending the boy as promising material. As Mr. Fitzgerald states is the case in virtually all aspects of rush, however, restraint is the key. One ought not to have letters of recommendation sent to more than one or two fraternities, lest word get around that the young man is an "eager-beaver"—certainly a turn-off. Even more fatal to one's rush efforts is to have said letter written by a high school teacher, a dean, or a woman, any of which would be, as Mr. Fitzgerald puts it, "sure death." Ideal candidates to write the letter are male, and preferably politically or financially prominent. An industrialist, for example, would be swell.

Mr. Fitzgerald offers helpful tips on nearly every aspect of one's comportment during rush. There may be a time and a place for everything, he says, but rush is not the place for a lot of those things. Nonconformity, for example. A new-wave hair-do, whatever its aesthetic merits, will most likely do the rush more harm than good. Nor is rush an appropriate stage for one to exercise his innovative sense of fashion. A cardinal rule of dress during rush is to take a conservative approach—stay away from recent fads, such as "wearing loud vests with somber suits." Even a sense of humor can be a liability: a bad joke will do damage incomparable to the cheers elicited by a good one. It is more advisable to play it safe and not take the risk. Despite these measures taken not to be too noticeable, it is also good practice to stand alone—resist the temptation to visit fraternities with the same group of rushes, as it entails the risk of being associated or grouped with less desirable candidates. Any hope to get a bid by the quality of one's company is usually in vain.

After one's charm and je ne sais quoi land him a bid at his top choice, there is, of course, an arduous period of servitude and degradation to endure before initiation. This is known as "pledging," and at the very least usually requires categorical memorization of the trivia and history of the fraternity and its brothers. While the practice of paddling is discussed and dismissed along with most pledge activities as mostly harmless, Mr. Fitzgerald strangely makes no mention of the forms of hazing prevalent here at Dartmouth (although he may have made hidden reference to some in his description of fraternities as places of "irregular sexual activity"). Mr. Fitzgerald also kindly reassures the reader that whatever he is made to eat while blindfolded is probably not what the brothers say it is.

Available for check-out at Baker Library (call number: LJ34.F5), A Complete Guide to College Fraternity Rushing and Pledging is really an entirely unhelpful guide to rushing and pledging at Dartmouth, partly because our fraternities differ significantly from the national norm, but more because it is forty-two years old. Its irrelevance, however, is made up for by the unintentional humor of its provincial attitudes and archaic language, along with notes written on it in pencil by some nervous freshman decades ago. Reading it, one feels as if Smith girls still visited for Winter Carnival, and as if traditions did not fail. In its humble way, it is a charming reminder of days long gone.