College Years

In April of 1960, at the age of 17, my father was accepted to three colleges: Vanderbilt, Davidson and the College of William and Mary. Much like I would do 29 years later, he chose William and Mary for the simple reason that it was free. By offering him a full scholarship, Dad would not create an undue hardship on his parents or himself. Still, Grandmother would need to work just to pay for non-tuition related expenses. Despite having no higher education herself, she was determined that her son would succeed their legacy and ascend to the college ranks.

Grandmother never knew, or at least never let on that she knew, that Dad was gay. Not having a series of girlfriends in high school is easy enough to chalk up to teenage angst. By Dad's own reckoning, he was a bit of a nerd, and most mothers are relieved when a boy's propensity is more for books that smutty magazines. She was tall for a woman, with high cheek bones, hazel eyes, and a clear white complexion. Her hair was set in a 1940's style: long bangs rolled up over the top of her head and hair cascading down the sides.

Grandmother wrote poetry and read with enthusiasm. This was hardly something that would have endeared her to her husband, but it made a connection with Dad. With frequency he would borrow from her collection. One of the first books was "The Alabama," the story of Captain Semes and the Confederate commerce raider of that name. She had untapped intelligence like most people do that read voraciously.

Dad would end up staying at William and Mary for two years. It refined his academic skills and sparked an intense interest in history. He grew to question his professors, and he developed a Darwinian view of humanity. History to Dad was best symbolized by the struggle between the Home Sapien and the Neanderthal. In order to make profound progress, humanity often must make what would appear at the time to be horrifying actions. Just as the Homo Sapien wiped out the Neanderthal through extermination, the Americans dropped the atomic bomb to usher in the age of Pax Americana. The path to progress is never pretty.

For those readers who might be upset by this realpolitik view of human history, one must ask what the alternatives would have been. What would the world look like today had Columbus sailed back to Spain and said to Queen Isabella "I found a new world, but it is already inhabited so we should look for something else." We know the answer, and the question of whether it was worth the 25 million lives or so is unfair to ask because there is little choice in these matters. It is the way humanity has been programmed.

In addition to an appreciation for history, William and Mary also introduced Dad to the fine arts. He saw many movies at the local theater, something not near as common in his childhood. Igmar Berman's "Seventh Seal" and Stanley Kramer's "Inherit the Wind" and "Judgment at Nuremberg" had a lasting impact, but one play would forever standout in his memory. On a trip to New York City with his debate team, Dad saw Lee Cobb in Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman." He was struck not just by the crestfallen Willy Loman, but by how much this man reminded Dad of his own father. Both were horrible businessmen, both were traveling salesman, both were pathetic figures.

Although Dad's academic performance at William and Mary was impeccable, he was nevertheless miserable. He constantly felt like a redneck from a lesser Southern state, that being Florida. To be fair, and readers in Virginia should agree, there still is a caste system of Southern states. In retrospect, Dad would admit that some of this might have been his own doing. Dad wore horn-rimmed glasses, often called birth control devices in the military, and he had a red scar in the center of his forehead - the result of a botched attempt by one of his father's masonic friends to remove a mole.

His clothes were also somewhat ridiculous. His parents had bought him white short sleeved shirts that sported an open collar. These shirts would turn hard as a 2x4 after starching in the college laundry. He would also wear a narrow tie, wool pants, and an omnipresent pair of white Ked sneakers. Dad struggled to fit into the system and was not accepted to any of the male fraternities. This experience would later lead to an almost obsessive distaste with polyester and anything else sold at Kmart.

So at the end of his Sophomore year in 1962, Dad transferred to a real party school - Florida State. There he pledged to Phi Kappa Tau and became a brother in the winter of his junior year. As a senior the frat unanimously elected him to Pledge Master and was approached to run for President. This was quite a turnaround for someone that had not even made it into the fraternity system at William and Mary.

To what did he attribute this startling change? For one thing before going to Florida State he took his sizable earnings from his summer job and purchased a new wardrobe. At Mass Brothers and some other exclusive stores in Tampa he bought long sleeved, button down 100% cotton Gant dress shirts, all of which were in a pale color with the exception of black and navy blue ones. He also bought several tater shall shirts and crew neck sweaters in tasteful browns and grays, a brown and charcoal gray herring-bone tweed blazer, and several pair of khaki trousers. His belt was a cordovan style, and he chose to also rid himself of the Ked sneakers in favor of gun loafers and Gold Cup socks that matched the colors of his shirts. Lastly, he bought several pair of Levi jeans in which he sat for what seemed like unending hours in a tub of hot water so that the jeans would fade and shrink to become form-fitting.

So much for the adage that clothes don't make a man. Since the beginning of time what you wear has mattered if only for your own ego. My Dad's confidence soared, and with it so did his social success. He had shed his nerd baggage, and from that point forth he resolved that he would settle for nothing less than the finest clothes, food, wine and liquor that money could buy.

In the fall of 1964, at the age of 22, Florida State held "Rush Week," a proud tradition that somehow American higher education thinks is still critical to the molding of its men. In Rush, all pledging freshman are paraded before the fraternity brothers in a series of parties. The frat brothers then select the ones whom their Fraternity will offer a pledge ship. During this time Dad would meet someone who would become a lifelong friend, and someone I would also encounter when I was deciding my own college fate.

One night while in the House's parlor talking to a few Rushes, Dad grew bored with the conversation and excused himself to go downstairs for a drink. Steve Marshall, the House's barkeep, pured him a rum and Coke. The band in the adjoining room was playing loud rock music, so he stepped onto the patio in the cool and importantly quiet air.

As he stepped out he noticed a somewhat dashing figure of a man standing by the red cedar fence that surrounded the patio. He was dressed virtually the same as Dad with a pale yellow Gant shirt, khaki trousers, a cordovan belt and wee guns with yellow Gold Cup socks. He was shorter than Dad, with blond hair that was cut with bangs Caesar style. Thin and lanky, he could not have weighed more than 120 pounds.

This was Hank Gersons, a new pledge from Atlanta who would later serve in Vietnam in the infantry and go on to become a Lieutenant Colonel in the US Army. Dad and Hank quickly became friends and later roommates. He was Dad's fraternal Little Brother, and as such Dad would make it his responsibility to ensure that Hank succeeded in the university. He could do little help with mathematics, but Dad could certainly help with English. Ignoring the honor code, Dad wrote Hank's book reports and essays. He figured this was the best he could do to at least ensure Hank received one 'A.' He succeeded, and Hank would go on to proudly serve his country.

Having to take some extra classes that did not transfer from William and Mary, Dad would graduate in the Spring of 1965 at the age of 24. Staying an extra semester met no objection with Dad. These were some of the brighter times for him. He would earn himself a 3.2 GPA and would matriculate to the University of Florida College of Law in the summer of 1965.