In early 1963 I was a seventeen year old senior looking forward to avoiding being drafted into the Army. The "Conflict" in Vietnam was never far from the mind. Actually, I had planned to go to college all along, and there was a college deferment.

College was never a question for me. My father was of the generation that came back from World War II with the conviction that live would be better for his children than it had been for them. I don’t remember even discussing it at all. I went to high school in the College Preparatory program and it was just expected by everyone that college would be the path that I would follow.

Here it was, senior year. My grades had always been good enough, but girls, my friends, and fun had always ruled my world. I was unusual in that I had the ability to do well on tests with a minimum of study. This had permitted me to spend most of my time in extracurricular activities.. I hung out with a group of kids who lead the school in everything except sports. We spent all our time together to the point of when one of the girls had a baby-sitting job, her boyfriend would be there to help. Yes, we were all paired up, from about the tenth grade on. We had weekly parties where we danced to Elvis, The Temptations, The Imperials and all the other groups of the time. We did the Monkey, the Swim, and the Shag, but the most popular dances were the Stroll and close dancing. Close dancing was little more than hugging while standing and swaying to the music..

There were periodic optional assemblies for seniors that would allow you to skip classes as long as you sat through the program. One of these was by recruiters from the various services. I attended in order to skip a class I wasn’t very interested in. As usual, I didn’t really pay attention to what was going on, but I did catch the fact that the Navy guys were running some test that was supposed to be a lot like the College Board tests that were coming up. Since my grades were only acceptable, I knew that I would have to score well on the SAT and I figured that this might be a good chance to practice. I signed up for the test and picked up a handout on when and where it would be.

Without much thought I showed up and took the test. I didn’t think any more about it and went about my life, taking the SAT and applying to and visiting colleges. Then one day a letter came to report the results of this test. I had done fairly well, in fact, it said I qualified for a four year scholarship at one of 52 universities spread across the country. The scholarship included tuition, all books and lab fees and paid a stipend of $50 per month. Upon graduation I would be commissioned as an Ensign in the regular Navy. This meant that while I would be going to NROTC, which normally results in a reserve commission, I would be commissioned as if I had gone to the Naval Academy

This seemed too good to be true. My father had never discussed how I was going to afford going to school. I had spent my summers Life Guarding on Cape Cod and hadn’t saved any money. My father had recently given up his job as a traveling salesman for an abrasives company to work full time as a general contractor building homes on the Cape. I’m sure he figured on building enough houses to keep me in school. I’m sure this letter was a great load off his back. I had three sisters coming along behind me, and he planned on sending them all to college too.

The price I would have to pay for this scholarship would be four years of active duty followed by two in the reserves. That compared favorably with being drafted and spending a couple of years as an enlisted man, probably including one year in Vietnam and then spending time in the reserves. There were a few more details. I would have to major in a science or engineering field. I could not be or get married until graduation and if I were to flunk out, or violate the guidance in any way I would be required to serve my time as an enlisted sailor. I would have to give part of my summers to practical training. The big deal was that there were only 52 schools that had this program.

I had planned on an engineering field, so that was no problem. I didn’t feel the marriage thing was a problem. I always broke up with my girl for the summer anyway. If I didn’t graduate I would be subject to the draft and I would rather be a sailor than an infantry soldier.

The 52 schools were a problem, I had not applied to any of them, time was getting late and I had to get into a school that also had room in their ROTC program. I made application at a few that looked good to me and hoped for the best. As I said, my grades weren’t the best, but I did have good scores on the SAT and with the scholarship I figured I had a shot. As it turned out MIT didn’t think they wanted to deal with me, but Tufts and Iowa State both had room for me. I rather felt that Tufts was too close to home. I would probably be spending as much time at home as at school, so I chose the adventure of trying far off Ames Iowa.

With that in my pocket I "struggled" through my senior year of high school. I took my sweetheart to her junior prom, to my senior prom with late dinner in China Town in Boston then a drive to the Cape for sunrise. At the end of the year it was a glorious goodbye to friends I had spent so much of the last three years with and promises to see them again whenever I came home for vacations. Then it was off to the cape for a summer in the sun as lifeguard on a beach with no other guards.

This would be my final full summer on the Cape. I was going to enjoy it. My mother, sisters, and I had been summering on the cape since 1950 with my father joining us on weekends and vacations. I first became a guard when I was 15. I was always big and was always in a class where kids were a year older than I so it wasn’t hard to pass myself off as a 16 year old at 15. We were hired by the Town of Falmouth and meet each morning at the main beach for briefings on policy and conditions. All I had to do that first year is have my mother drop me off a few blocks from the beach, then after the meeting I would hitch a ride with another guard to my assigned beach.

Falmouth is a large town made up of many villages in the southwest corner of Cape Cod. The most prominent village is Wood’s Hole, where the Marine Institute is located. We had beaches along the south side on (Martha’s) Vineyard Sound and on the West Side of town along Buzzard’s bay. I spent my first couple of years on large beaches on the Sound that I had grown up on. This year I was assigned to a new beach on the Buzzards Bay side. It was a small beach that had not been guarded in previous years but was now getting enough people to warrant a guard. The Parking lot was unpaved and behind the dune line and like most beaches on the cape was all pure sand with a nice gradual sloping bottom. There were occasional well-rounded boulders, but otherwise no particular hazards. Nor was there any lifeguard station. It was up to me to bring all the necessary supplies with me each day. I would spend my summer analyzing the swimming patterns and make recommendations for building a site during the off season. There was no phone so I would depend on ohers to call in troubles if any occured.

My mother had an old car I could use. A 1958 Lincoln Continental convertible. It was black with a white softtop, a glass rear window which slid down behind the back seat as the roof opened and red and white leather seats. This was a chick magnet to the nth degree. Each day as we let the meeting at Surf Beach all the guards would stop at a special coffee shop for coffee and donuts before heading out to our assigned beaches. I never had problems getting a full load of guards to go to the shop. When I left the shop to go to my lonely assignment, I was rarely alone. Much of the day, for the first couple of weeks, there were only one or two swimmers on the beach and after setting up my rescue torpedo I had very little to do other than stay awake. I soon learned that by driving the car up the well packed back side of one of the dunes I could sit in my car listen to the radio and survey the entire beach. Portable rdios of the day were large, used six to twelve D cells and didn't last very long. After a couple of weeks my friends started coming to my beach to spend time. Soon the word spread that this was now a public beach and was protected by the town. More and more people started coming to the beach and it turned out that the area I had chosen for a preliminary guard station was the population center of the visitors. Unfortunately, I got to spend less and less time in the car and more and more time on active watch. At least I no longer had trouble staying awake. By the end of the summer I had determined where the Guard station should be and that next year they would need two guards.

Towards the end of the summer my parents and I flew out for orientation in Ames. We found a nice campus and generally agreed that it was a good choice. We did, however, find that my application for housing had come too late and that housing in the dormitory system would be out of the question. I would have to either find an apartment off campus or join a fraternity. I was assured that there was plenty of housing available and since living would be my only expense my parents gave me the final decision as to what I would do. We found that the Greek Society would be running a rush week the week before school commenced for freshmen.

I made arrangements leave my job with the assurance that I could return and work as a Guard around my summer cruise schedule. Mom and Dad drove me to Logan Airport where I boarded a 707 with my two suitcases carrying everything I was taking to college with me. I made a plane change at O’Hare to a much smaller plane that flew into Des Moines. Where I picked up my luggage and started off for Ames. I soon found a ride as far as the highway that went north to Ames where they dropped my baggage and me off.

While standing along side of the highway miles away from the campus at which I had no living arrangements in the hot Iowa sunshine my seventeen year old mind started to question some of the decisions I had made. I had only been outside of New England for a few trips to Montreal with my father and to Washington DC for a week with my Aunt and Uncle. Here I was, having flown half way across the country, having fought the crowds at Chicago, alone on the side of the road, not knowing where I would sleep that night I realized I should have planned a bit better.

Standing there with my sport-coat over my shoulder, my bags at my feet I must have looked a bit pathetic. There wasn’t a whole lot of traffic and the first pickup to come along let me throw my bags in the back and ride up front. It was obvious where I was going, but beyond the campus, I couldn’t give him much guidance. He was kind enough to deliver me to what he knew to be a dormitory area. It turned out to be the women’s dorms, but at least it was on campus.

Once I figured out where I was I remembered enough from my orientation visit to find my way to Fraternity Row. As I approached I was spotted by some guys who quickly grabbed my bags and helped me into one of the houses. In a matter of minutes I had a place to stay for the night.

During rush week no one was permitted to make a bid (offer for you to join their fraternity). I was given the freedom to sleep wherever I wanted and I went to rush parties at many houses. One of the iteresting aspects of living in a fraternaty house in Iowa was the sleeping arrangements. Everyone had rooms that varied from one to four brothers but all slept in a single room. Due to a strange fire Law there had to be a certain number of square feet of open window for each person sleeping in a room. This ment that the beds were in an unheated room where the windows were open year round. At the end of the week I received bids from three houses. I chose Theta Delta Chi because they guys (it was strictly male in those days) seemed most like the people I hung out with in high school. They were more interested in the academic than party side of life. They had pointed out their house grade point average without being asked but didn’t shy away from the parties on weekends.

My college days had started. I had a free ride. My parents were only responsible for housing and food. I had a place to live. I had found some people I could relate to a thousand miles from home. My Dad would pay for the food and living costs and even pickup the Fraternity costs. I would get to keep the big $50 per month Navy check for my own use. 1963 was turning out pretty well for me.