I joined a fraternity at the University of Maine, Alpha Gamma Rho, a social/professional fraternity. Almost all the guys were studying life sciences or agriculture. Forestry, Wildlife, Biology, Ag Science, Botany, Soil Science, Biochem and a few in Engineering. We were a fairly nerdy bunch. We were a band of brothers. We studied hard. And we played hard.
Most of us lived at the fraternity house at 135 College Ave on fraternity row. And, as with all social systems involving young college age men, there was a pecking order. We competed with other jock fraternities in intra-fraternity sports and held our own, never the top of the pile, never the bottom.
They ridiculed us by calling us Alpha Grab -A- Hoe. The Co-eds dated us, but we were not the Preppies. We were the farmers. We were hunters and fishermen. And we could not have cared less. Except when it came to the Snow Sculpture competition.
Every year all the fraternities competed during Winter Carnival in a snow sculpture contest. ARP ruled. For a decade. No one could beat us. And they knew it. Our skills were so refined that we were once invited to participate in an international snow sculpture competition in Quebec City. At any rate...
It was the winter of 1971-72. There was not much snow that year, but it didn't deter us. Once the plan and the theme had been agreed upon, we threw ourselves into the effort. Plywood forms were constructed and crews of young men collected snow in pickup trucks from the steam plant parking lot. We filled the forms, wet down the snow and stomped it into slush. The sub zero weather did not deter our efforts, but did freeze the slush into carvable blocks.
Next came the artistry. We stripped the forms and began the sculpting with care and pride. The theme that year had to do with a proposed budget cut to University funding by the state legislature. We crafted a locomotive labeled Rising Costs running down the tracks toward Snidely Whiplash (the Maine Legislature) and a poor maiden (the University System) tied to the tracks. The Headline read " IS THIS A LOCO-MOTIVE?" It was a clever and politically astute sculpture and we were sure our winning streak would continue. Until one cold night before the judging...
We heard them before we saw them. A mob of drunk fraternity men were marching down College Avenue towards our house. They had decided to destroy our sculpture before the judging. The mob was loud and unruly and looking for a fight.
The young men in the house swarmed onto the front lawn to face the scoundrels. There were many more of them than there was of us. The frat rat leaders were screaming at their drunken followers to destroy the sculpture. And the mob edged closer.
Suddenly there was a loud report. All eyes turned up to the roof of the porch over our front door. Brother Guy stood on top of the roof with his 12 gauge shotgun in hand. He racked a shell into the chamber and stood calmly waiting for someone to make a move.
Now, Guy was a volatile guy. He was a true blue brother, but he experienced, shall we say, extremes in his emotional landscape. So we were all scared as shit. We knew that the first person who attacked the snow sculpture would probably be shot. We were sure of it. And, as it turns out, so were the frat rats.
They heaped verbal abuse on us as they retreated back up the Avenue. They were not able to do what they had intended to do. Not without bloodshed.
No one spoke about the incident, not on campus, not in the house. It was too fraught with danger, too irresponsible, to illegal to pull a shotgun on a drunken mob. But the message was clear. Don't mess with the farmers. Cause they will shoot your ass.
GRABBERS!
