YO-HO-HO AND A BOTTLE OF RYE

I sailed off to college and found some rough seas. My shipmates discovered I had no stomach for their grog. This story describes my first attempt to "down the hatch." 02/26/2016

YO-HO-HO AND A BOTTLE OF RYE

In May 1945, not yet eighteen, while attending a fraternity college party, I had my first encounter with alcohol. At the time, you had to be twenty one to purchase or consume alcohol in New Jersey which helps explain my abstinence.

Most of my fraternity brothers were sailors, enrolled in the V-12 program. They decided to have an end-of-semester party, and invited me to attend and bring a date, specifically a bottle of Four Roses rye whiskey. Soon after we made the scene, the sailors filled a punch bowl with my bottle of rye, another of rum, and for good measure, one of scotch. To sweeten the taste, they added a quart or two of ice cream. When the brew had come to a proper level of potency, someone commanded a girl to remove her shoe and used it to ladle out portions for all to sip. This concoction did not kill upon contact, although it made a valiant effort. It did not take long for me to “heave-ho.” This established a pattern. Thereafter, I could never eat ice cream and drink hard liquor without becoming sick.

My induction notice arrived, ironically, on August 6, the day we bombed Hiroshima. Shortly afterwards, Japan surrendered. The country went wild with happiness. To celebrate VJ day, I invited three friends to join me at the empty fraternity house where we drank whiskey out of a loving cup. Even without ice cream, it made me sick as a dog.            

We had won the war, but peace almost killed me.  

Mu Chapter, Chi Phi Fraternity, side yard.

Mu Chapter, Chi Phi Fraternity, front entrance.

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