Pranks: a history of Kenyon's deviants

As finals approach, it's difficult to recall those days when the majority of Kenyon students weren't hunched over textbooks in the library or busily finishing papers in the wee hours of the morning. Kenyon's alumni, however, remember their own glory days spent not in the library, but rabblerousing, scheming and generally creating ruckus. With such a creative and passionate student body, Kenyon has seen its fair share of pranks. Some of the escapades, like the popular repainting of the Beta rock, have no higher aim than simple jest, but others address serious issues of concern among the student body.

Church Rebellion

Richard Rubin '62, now a member of the Board of Trustees, fondly recalls his own role in a 1962 campaign against Kenyon's mandatory chapel requirement. "It was something of a 'cause célébre' at the time," Rubin said. "It struck many of us as a burden that was not justified. One should have the right to elect where they wish to worship."

At the time, with no faith-based organizations like Hillel in place, Rubin and his classmates had no choice in the matter. Each Sunday they would dutifully listen, or, as Rubin noted, "sort-of listen," to the sermon at the Church of the Holy Spirit. Still, many students elected to sit at the top, playing chess or finishing assignments.

Rubin, then the editor-in-chief of The Kenyon Collegian, gathered his editorial staff to discuss the requirement. "It was an infringement on our First Amendment rights," Rubin said. "We discussed it and concluded we would take a stand. It felt like the right thing to do, and we felt strongly enough about it that we wanted to write about it."

The Collegian's stand on the issue quickly raised eyebrows, causing "quite a stir" around the campus. "We took it on as something we wanted to do-a kind of mini-crusade," Rubin said.

At that time, the campus had a much closer affiliation with the Church; Bexley Hall was still the location of a seminary. "There was a very strong consciousness, given the roots of the school and its foundation by Bishop Philander Chase. There was an institutional interest in collaboration with the Church," Rubin said. "It was political orthodoxy."

Until Rubin and his staff composed the editorial, the requirement had never been held up to examination. "We didn't boycott," Rubin said. "It just germinated as an idea that took on credibility."

Amidst the controversy, several members of a fraternity took it upon themselves to vocalize student opinion in a visual way. The boys brought enough flour to the Church of the Holy Spirit to fill the pipes in the organ so that when the first chord of the opening hymn was played, what flowed forth was not blessings, but flour.

"I am duty-bound not to reveal under the vow of confidentiality the perpetrator of the dastardly deed," Rubin said. "The statement was clearly understood by the administration as being an act of protest."

When President F. Edward Lund questioned Rubin, asking if he had had anything to do with the prank, he gave him an honest answer. He said no. Within a short amount of time, the Board of Trustees met and voted to rescind the requirement. Rubin received a letter from the Bishop who sat on the Board, who, while not sanctioning the conduct of the perpetrator, understood "that the requirement could violate what many students perceive[d] to be their rights."

"I believe I spared many students many hours of lost sleep," Rubin said. "Generations of Kenyon students after us became more alert in class. They've not been deprived of observing whatever religious precepts they follow."

"I don't think it retarded our fundraising abilities, judging by how well we're doing now," Rubin said, noting his current position on the Board of Trustees. "Looking back, I would have taken the very same view I took, even today."

The idea of the flour in the church pipes was not entirely original, however. According to College Historian and Keeper of Kenyoniana Tom Stamp '73, an alumnus named Tom Sawyer '39 went in with some friends and poured flour in the organs to the same effect described, and as a result, chapel was canceled for the day. This prank, however, had fewer ambitions than the one Rubin describes. "It was just a prank to get out of chapel," Stamp said.

Furniture Fire

More recent Kenyon alumni will remember the "Spring Riot," an annual springtime event that continued well into the '90s and began before women entered the College in 1970. "There [would be] a big fire where Middle Path and the Leonard [Hall] and Hanna [Residence Hall] paths connect," Stamp said. "If the participation became overly enthusiastic, furniture would be added to the bonfire. The event probably stopped because students were putting furniture on the fire more than they should, actually. It stopped being just broken furniture and became a little rowdier."

Stamp especially remembers the Spring Riot of 1970, the first one during which women were present on campus. "The men marched to McBride, where all the women were living, and there was a standoff between the Kenyon men and Dean Doris Crozier, who drove over and parked in the driveway when she heard what was happening. She stood there in her nightgown to be the bulwark against the Kenyon men as they laid siege to the women of McBride."

Pranks of Yore

Pranks can be traced as far back as the nineteenth century. One involved Edwin Stanton, who would eventually become the U.S. Secretary of War after leaving Kenyon in 1833. As a student, Stanton stole Philander Chase's favorite horse, Cincinnatus, and rode off to a rendezvous with a young lady. Stamp quotes Kenyon historian George Franklin Smythe, who said "the wrath of the bishop was dissipated by the engaging frankness with which [Stanton] confessed his crime."

There is no shortage of pranks in Kenyon's history. When bed checks were still compulsory, a favorite student prank was to put a pig under the covers. Students also started a yearly caper in which they would steal the clapper of the bell in the steeple of Old Kenyon. "This was a rather dangerous affair, so much so that the clapper was removed for safekeeping and only reinstalled for special occasions," Stamp said.