In the fall of 1948, I met several returning veterans at Stanford. They had been drafted and then came back, on the GI Bill, to finish their interrupted educations. They were serious students, but entirely indifferent to petty rules. They were housed, if married, in Menlo Park at what had been a military hospital and later became the Stanford Research Institute, and, if single, in Encina Hall along with us freshmen.
Each evening from about 6 o'clock to 10, they would drink their beer and toss the empties out of the window to crash land in the bullpens—basement-level pits designed to let light into the building.
The corporation yard tired of sending a man to clean up the mess each morning. It was announced that there would be a $5 fine each time they had to send someone. The Encina Council, dominated by veterans, promptly computed the days left in the quarter, multiplied by five and sent a check to the corp yard.
DAN DEVOR, ’51, MA ’56, pictured above as a freshman, lives in Oakhurst, Calif.
