The alumni newsletter of Antioch College Fall 2004
The alumni newsletter of Antioch College Fall 2004
In the Spring 2004 issue of the Antiochian, we called for alumni to submit accounts of their favorite pranks. The response was overwhelming. We are printing here for your amusement the pranks which we received the most accounts of. Thanks to all who participated.
Disclaimer: It has proven nearly impossible to discover the precise details of these incidents, so they may not be depicted exactly as they occurred. Feel free to write to alumni@antioch-college.edu with clarifications or corrections.
Correction: It has come to our attention that the legend of the Great Auk originated in the 1950s, not the 1960s.
During the planning of a student union in 1949, a group of students opposed to the plan purchased an old ivy-covered outhouse from a local farmer and placed it on the Mound late one night. There was a sign attached to it proclaiming it the new student union, and more signs advertising the new facility were posted all around campus. The outhouse was then used as a voting booth on the initiative for the student union, which failed. A local troop of Girl Scouts later claimed the outhouse for its original use.
John Hoke ’50 was infamous during his time at Antioch. Among the pranks attributed to him are: an incident in which he let hundreds of turtles loose on campus and advertised that he had lost a pet turtle, then re-released the turtles which were returned to him; broadcasting wolf howls at night from a tower of Main Building, for weeks on end; and releasing 1000 moths in Kelly Hall during a late night movie, which in the dark room appeared as huge winged silhouettes on the movie screen.
There were at least two attempts to retaliate against Hoke’s pranks. One night, a group of students stole the tires and rims from his car and hid them around campus. Although he was able to get wheels on his car again before the next morning, one of his “recovered” wheels turned out to belong to the Yellow Springs Chief of Police. Another retaliation was a bit of psychological warfare initiated while he was off campus on his last co-op. He “accidentally” received a flyer in the mail asking for ideas for pranks to play against him as “graduation presents.” To add to his anxiety, when he returned to campus the same Chief of Police whose wheel he had taken warned him of a kidnapping plot against him. There was no such plot, but word has it that Hoke didn’t sleep in the same bed twice until after graduation.
There were apparently many pranks involving automobiles. We received several accounts, including the following from Mike Kittross ’51:
The Director of Glen Helen in 1947 was so inordinately proud of his new jeep (a rare commodity immediately after World War II) that it seemed only fitting that we put it on display. It wound up on the second floor landing in the Science Building next to the big globe, missing the rotor arm from the distributor cap (for those who have only known automobiles with electronic ignition: you had to have a rotor arm in order to operate the vehicle). The Glen Helen Director was incensed and went storming over to the office of President Algo Henderson. Henderson listened, then opened his desk to pull out a yellow writing pad—on the top of which rested the rotor arm. He burst into laughter, and that was the end of that.
This account is from Marjorie Dole ’46:
During the 40s, a railroad track ran between Corey Street and the Glen. On the Glen side was an old brick kiln with a flat roof. One day a freight train happened to stop right next to the kiln. Serendipitously, there was a ramp up to an open freight car stopped in front of the kiln. Someone got hold of Doc Adams’ car keys (Doc was Chairman of the Chemistry Department) and drove his car up the ramp, through the freight car and onto the kiln. A while later, the freight train left and Doc’s car was stranded on top of the kiln.
Yet another account, which we received from multiple sources, claims that a Volkswagen belonging to Clarence Leuba, Professor of Psychology, somehow made its way onto the stage in Kelly Hall in time for the opening of the curtains at an assembly.
Finally, the following was received from Joan Horn ’56:
It was my senior year at Antioch - maybe in the fall of '55 or spring of '56. I was Walter Anderson's assistant for the year. Andy's office was then in the left hand tower room behind the Kelly Hall stage. I had a tiny car called a King Midget. The car was so small, and bright yellow, powered by a lawnmower engine, that it simply invited something to be tried. One morning I woke up and looked out the window and discovered the King Midget was gone. I called the police to report it. They laughed at me and said it was no doubt a practical joke. I wasn't amused, counting on it for honest-to-goodness transportation. However, I took my bike and went to work. Upon entering the auditorium, I noticed a strange large bulge in the velvet curtain that hung at the back of the stage and through which I had to go to get to Andy' office. On pulling back the curtain, I discovered my King Midget. Adding insult to injury, I got a call pretty quickly from Lillian Pillard, in charge of housing, etc. She told me I was responsible for getting the car off the stage within the next six hours or the Maintenance Dept. would do it and charge me for their labor.
Special thanks to John Michael Kittross ’51, David Goodwin ’54, Ed Granai ’54, Jan Winans ’56, Nancy Harvey ’59, and Jean Sanford “Sandy” Replinger.