The Story

What We Carry With Us

Jun. 7, 2008 | By Jonna Knappenberger, co-Editor in Chief

This article is the first in a weekly DSJ summer series of opinions pieces, the "Tribe Vibe," probing the most important aspects of the Tribe and our Williamsburg campus.

�"Well, according to my fellows, if you got engaged while you were at William and Mary, supposedly the young man involved was supposed to be tossed into the Crim Dell by his friends.”

That’s my dad, from the class of ’79, telling the family saga… again.

From what I know, life at the College was pretty regular for him. He went to class, lived in a dorm and could recite a list of Tribe traditions and myths like any true William and Mary student.

His story of being tossed into the Crim Dell is infamous in my family and told with relish. My dad had told his friends about his engagement while standing on the bridge. At the time, the water was iced over, so there was no throwing, but they purportedly kept telling him they would ensure the tradition was carried out.

�"In the meantime - once the ice thawed - some of my geek scientist friends very thoughtfully took measurements on the depth of the water from the bridge,” he says. �"A good thing, too, because a foot or two underneath the surface from the bridge there are refrigerators and bikes and stuff.”

So, supposedly they decided to throw him in from the other side.

A week before the wedding, they lured him to Millington Hall and roasted him. At the height of the roast, they tied him to his chair, carried him out to the Dell and tossed him in.

�"They kindly removed the rope just before they threw me in,” the story goes. He adds, �"I never knew why this was a tradition or what the tradition was exactly, but just that it had to be done, damn it.”

Traditions like these are a rite of passage. They’re unavoidable and, in my opinion, help build Tribe pride more than football, basketball and Sam Sadler combined.

Convocation is usually a student’s first taste of tradition. I remember gathering in the Wren courtyard (the Sunken Garden side) and putting on my shiny new ’09 button. I pondered the older students standing behind the fence, watching. True, we were taking a walk through the Wren, but was it really a spectacle worth watching?

Moments later, the chorus of the alma mater was drifting up through the gate behind me, following me into the Wren, and I understood.

Convocation is a special experience. I could not feel half-hearted about William and Mary after that.

There are other traditions, of course.

The most famous is undoubtedly the �"triathlon,” with three parts that should ideally be completed consecutively and perhaps while not completely sober.

First, one (hypothetically) jumps the wall at the governor’s palace in Colonial Williamsburg. This isn’t quite the feat it sounds like, as the wall is quite short in some places. The criminal-student then runs through the maze of bushes in the garden and gets out before the headlights of the roving CW police car appear over the wall.

Next, the student sheds his or her clothes to streak the length of the Sunken Garden. Be sure to bring a trustworthy friend to watch over discarded clothing. The more shy you are about your birthday suit, the better the friend you should bring.

Finally, the last leg of the journey is a dip in the Crim Dell - still in the nude, of course. Common sense says this might be a more comfortable task in the warm months, though I’ve heard that the numbing chill of winter allows a sort of communion between the mind and the stars.

Other traditions include the Yule Log ceremony in December, when Santa (in his day job, the president of the College) makes a guest appearance and the VP of Student Affairs reads, �"’Twas the Night Before Finals.”

And of course, there’s the unforgettable �"Blowout” at the end of each semester. Blowout (not endorsed by the administration) is the magical last day of classes, when some students choose to imbibe alcohol before class in celebration. This leads, of course, to rumors, stories and memories etched indelibly into the minds of peers and professors alike.

Some traditions cross the boundary into the realm of myth.

Many involve ghosts. The expert who led my orientation ghost tour told us that ghosts of successfully suicidal students haunt the upstairs of Tucker Hall - I have yet to see one. Back in the day, my dad spread rumors that ghosts roamed throughout Washington Hall. Like me, he was skeptical.

�"My friends and I speculated that the only thing dangerous about Washington Hall was the oversized cockroaches.”

Like me - like most people, it seems - my dad didn’t know anything about secret societies on campus.

Back in 2004, The DSJ published an article about secret societies . From all accounts, it seems like there are many secret societies at the College. The most extensive list I could piece together includes: the Sevens, the Bishop James Madison Society, the Flat Hat Club, the 13s, the Alphas, the Wren Society, the W Society, the Phi Society, the Society and The Gale.

Supposedly, the Flat Hat Club started in 1750 and may or may not have survived the Revolutionary War.

The secret societies are not official student organizations at the College. They reportedly focus on random acts of kindness and intrigue. Some bitter students feel left out, but others seem satisfied that the anonymous kindness is genuine. The groups have left flowers, umbrellas, cards and signs of recognition around campus.

Some societies reportedly reveal members’ identities at commencement by having them wear special insignia.

One unforgettable society is Phi Beta Kappa, started secretly in 1776 by five William and Mary students. Eventually, the secrecy dimmed because of anti-Masonic concerns around the country.

We do indeed have some special myths and traditions at William and Mary. But more important than any of them, in and of themselves, is what we carry away as participants. If a tradition - like my walk through the Wren - can burrow into me, I can carry that day with me and remember feeling like one part of a larger whole.


Jonna Knappenberger is co-Editor in Chief of The DSJ and an opinions contributor. Her views do not necessarily represent those of the entire staff.