There's No Place Like Home Away from Home

For most of my Wheaton years I lived in dorms. As a freshman I was in Fischer Hall of course. In those days all freshmen were. It was a big impersonal Bauhaus of brick and glass. In spite of that I made many life-long friends and vivid memories there.

My second year was in a first floor, corner room at McManis Hall. This wonderful, long-in-the-tooth building was like a smelly old shoe that you just can’t bring yourself to discard—dumpy but comfortable. It was here that the YB of the SC and I forged our friendship, cried over lost love and grew to manhood accompanied by David Bowie and Steely Dan. Our window opened on the quad and many a friend would poke his or her head in to say “Hi” on the way to the dining hall.

Part of a year I lived with a group of upper classmen in a little suburb north of Wheaton called Carol Stream in a derelict one level rambler across from the Jewell-Osco and adjacent to the Theosophical Society. It had a pool. Since I was the low man on the totem pole I had a room in the basement. It was partitioned off with unfinished plywood and it flooded from time to time but it was quiet and I could come and go as I pleased. With my bed up on blocks the occasional damp was little more than a nuisance. I had a pool! My mother visited me that year. I could tell by the expression on her face that she was not impressed by the pool.

One summer I decided to stay at school and take classes. I worked at a Victoria Station as a bus boy in a nearby town. This was a very popular restaurant chain in the 70’s that unfortunately went bankrupt. I lived in an ugly, high-density apartment complex in Carol Stream. It was here that I became acquainted with the Shilohman (not known by that name then). I’m quite sure he disapproved of me; possibly because of the women I kept bringing to the apartment to watch late-night TV. We are fast friends now but at the time I didn’t care much what he thought. I figured that any guy who needed an explanation that he had his morning “shower, (bleep) and shave” routine in the wrong order had much bigger problems than a wayward roommate. On second thought I think that was our other roommate, Rick. He was kind of confused. Some years after graduation Rick sent a letter to the Wheaton Alumni Association claiming he was deceased.

None of these can compare to my senior year accommodations. The YB invited me to be his roomie again after a long hiatus. I’m certain he missed me, having fallen in with an eclectic band of scoundrels in a place called Washington House. I was only there during the fall and winter quarters because I graduated early and returned home in the spring. But it was a magical place. On the corner of Washington and College Ave, this run-down, two story wood-frame house became the center of my universe. It was directly across from Front Campus so we could walk to class. It had a yard, shade trees and plenty of parking in back. But most of all there was YB (“Moon” in those days) and Lower and Reeser and Veen and a devious chemist named JT who almost got me kicked out of school. We had a runt of a dog named Earl. Reeser would take Earl to class where he was treated as a celebrity. Earl did not like anyone with a swarthy complexion which got awkward when an African-American boyfriend came calling on the girl upstairs. Moon and I had a basement room with a gas firebox. We would turn up the heat just to watch the flames. In the morning we were thankful not to have asphyxiated during the night.

We furnished the place with some very nice things from French House. We heard that French House was to be demolished so we showed up one night before Building & Grounds could clean it out. We naturally thought that all the furniture should stay together. Strangely, no one noticed us carrying all those over-stuffed couches and chairs across campus.

It was here in Washington House that we played ELO at the highest volume ever recorded on a home stereo system in Dupage County.

It was here in this marvelous house after studying all night for a Shakespeare test that I had a dream entirely in Middle English.

It was Washington House where I took refuge after participating in one of the most successful and infamous pranks in Wheaton College history.

It was here, observing Lower dye his mustache, that I learned the meaning of the word vanity.

It was to Washington House where my soon-to-be-bride and my freshman younger brother would come to find out if the reason for my absence from chapel was asphyxiation.

And finally, because of Washington House I was, at last, able to attain the lofty status of BMOC. This was the obvious stature of anyone living in such a wonderful place. Sadly, Washington House was torn down to make room for an annex building of College Church. It will live forever in my memory as the best home away from home.