Prankstering in Berkeley circa 1967
In 1966, I joined a fraternity during my first year at the University of California (Berkeley). My brother was in the fraternity, and it seemed like the logical thing to do. Fraternity members were known as “Greeks.” And we were all “brothers.” I knew nothing about anything that first year.
After you “pledge” to join the fraternity, you then, after a few months (either one quarter or one semester) of being in this lowly class, you go through “Hell Week” where you and your fellow pledges have to pass through all sorts of weird tests and physical feats. Afterwards, if you managed to survive the week, you become a “brother.” The below event occurred shortly after we became “brothers.” It was the winter quarter—the second quarter of our first academic year.
One thing we Greek brothers liked to do was have a good time, and if this meant creating misery for some poor unknown soul who happened to be in the way, well—so be it.
Our fraternity house was three floors tall, and above the highest floor was a stairway to a flat roof, which turned out to be a very convenient place to drink beer, listen to music, and generally cavort about while shouting insults to those who happen to have the bad fortune to walk by on the sidewalk in front of the house at the time. It was three stories lower than us and was also far enough away to save our ass if someone didn’t quite take it in good humor.
One sunny afternoon, after our studying and classes had ended, three of us were sitting on this roof doing exactly what I have just described, that is, behaving like young pranksters and looking for something to do. My good friend John, who always seemed like the truly serious beer drinker of the group, had the good idea to get some water balloons and start tossing them at the brothers who came home from class, or whatever they were doing, while we were on the roof enjoying ourselves.
The first one who came by, the one known in the house as “Fox”—who was much older than us first-year brothers—had the misfortune of being our first target. Of course, water balloons aren’t really a dangerous flying object, but up three floors they can surely be something to reckon with. We hid behind the wall parapet as he approached the house from the street, carrying his books and wearing the appropriate Greek attire of levis, white shirt and “penny loafers.”
When he came into range, we all three stood up and lobbed as many balloons as we could grab in his direction, which must have been, if I can remember correctly, at least eight or ten of those suckers. They all came crashing down around him in a great volley like huge raindrops, not one of which, thank God, was a direct hit. Nevertheless, we managed to totally soak his shiny penny loafers and his levis from the knees down. Of course, he also managed to drop all his books and papers, which, by the way, ended up being in a scattered mess stretching all around him, as he came to an abrupt halt in shock. As he looked up at us, we ducked behind the parapet wall in hopes of not being caught in this dastardly act, although we all knew that it would be easy for him to discover who the guilty ones really were.
We also knew—especially because we were now true brothers, all three of us, and no longer merely pledges—that a good prank was actually well-respected among the Greeks and that our stature among the others would actually improve, barring any really unfortunate consequences. In other words, a good prank, without really hurting anyone, was deserving of great admiration.
As we stuck our heads over the wall to look back down, hoping not to be to be noticed, we heard the slamming of the front door and knew that “Fox” was well on his way to running up the stairs, in hopes of catching us in the act which was just described. We noticed, as we looked down at the wet sidewalk where our weapons had made contact, that his papers and books were still scattered about. He obviously must have been so pissed that he left the whole mess in a rage and was on his way to give us a raft of real shit.
We three, laughing hysterically of course, looked at each other with a slight amount of terror, quickly jumped into our lounge chairs, picked up our beers in one hand, and in the other hand quickly grabbed and opened our textbooks, which, by the way, were actually there for studying, as all these rooftop gatherings began when one brother decided he would wander up there and study in the sunshine, and as soon as two more would join him, with the same scholarly intention, there would be three of us, and that constituted grounds for a party.
Meanwhile, “Fox” was madly running up the stairway to admonish us for soaking his penny loafers, and we knew that any second the door would slam open, and he would be standing there yelling at us, and that’s exactly what happened, except, by the time he did so, we were calmly reading our books as though we had no idea of what he was talking about.
“Okay, who are the assholes who think this is funny?” He looked at us, obviously quite perturbed, and for a moment there, as we looked up, we thought maybe we had gone a little too far, but, as we saw him standing there, completely soaked from the knees down, we all, trying to maintain straight faces, broke out in uncontrollable laughter. This, by good luck, prompted “Fox” to do the same, and we all, especially us three villains, began to roll on the ground in merriment.
“Fox” forgave us for any ill we caused him, but he did make us help pick up his books and papers, and I swear that he treated us with a little more respect after that, but not from fear, but from the knowledge that he now knew we were capable of serious prankstering. One thing I did notice changed in him, and that was that every time he walked up the sidewalk to the front door he stopped, momentarily, almost unconsciously, and looked up. This even happened when I was walking right next to him.
