Confessions of a 'Frat Rat'

 

Of all things, why would I join a college fraternity?

 

I was never in clubs, not the Boy Scouts, not even the Chess Club. But at UC Berkeley, with 20,000 students, I joined one because I was lonely.

 

The Daily Californian college newspaper wasn’t enough.  It was also a little radical for my taste: we went on strike when the student government tried to control us. Revolutionary songs were sung at our parties. Some writers were arrested at a wild demonstration at the San Francisco City Hall two years before the famous Free Speech movement of 1964.

 

So when I pledged Sigma Pi fraternity, I became an outcast at the newspaper. You’re wearing white socks and getting a short haircut? You have become a frat rat? You have given in to the establishment!  You are a traitor! My mom wasn’t keen on it either: room and board was more expensive than at the student co-op. And I quit my paying student newspaper job.

 

It wasn’t as hard to get into the fraternity as I thought. After being rejected by two cooler societies, I was accepted at one that had fallen on hard times and was accepting just about any boy who could pay the rent.

 

Rather than getting caught up in radicalism, the group practiced sheer foolishness. Hazing? Yes. I was sworn to secrecy. If I told you what we did, I would have to kill you! At one point I was the chief hazer. And drinking? OMG! Embarrassing. I can see why universities are trying to crack down now.

 

So what does a shy, reluctant party goer do? Well, he becomes president. My pledge-mates were considered too immature by the older guys, so they handed the job to this grizzled old 19-year-old who used to be in the enemy camp.

 

What does being president entail? Well, being kidnapped twice by new pledges, dumped in the wilds of the Berkeley Hills wearing a gunny sack for pants. Once the police made me get a taxi. Another time I knocked on someone’s door and called up fraternity brothers to come and get me.

 

And then were the responsibilities: Like talking my roommate, the house manager, out of tossing the belongings of a slow-paying renter out on the street. Or answering an angry letter from the national chapter president after a pledge threw up all over a visiting representative’s clothes. I may not be a leader, but I can write great letters to get us out of trouble.

 

Do I regret this phase? Well, no. My people skills were definitely improved. I made friends. I escaped with a college degree. And I wasn’t lonely!