Interesting Greek History

[Conqueror]

I thought this was an interesting excerpt by an Omega on his experience in greekdom during the early 1900's at Wiley College.

"The greatest event of the school year, he told us, was the annual homecoming game. This year, the Wiley Wildcats would play the vaunted Tuskegee football team, and "Pops" Long had promised him that Wiley would be victorious. That announcement drew scattered applause, but President Dogan had not finished. The way to improve the homecoming spirit, he declared, was to have the Greek letter organizations elect the homecoming queen this year. Rather than having an ordinary election as we had done in the past, this time the Alphas and their sister Greek letter organization, the AKA's, should put up a candidate and the Omegas and their sister group, the Deltas, put up a candidate, and the other fraternities and sororities either field candidates of their own or back one of those chosen by the two major groups. Such a procedure, our president assured us, would add a lot of class to the homecoming event.

The Alphas, Omegas, AKA's, and Deltas rocked the auditorium with applause. Rotten food in the dining hall was eclipsed by dreams of the banquet feting the queen each fraternity was certain it would elect. Where there had been unity before, there was now bitter Greek letter rivalry that split the campus open. My frat brothers and I met with the Deltas and selected our nominee. The Alphas and AKA's did the same. The Kappas joined us. The Sigmas joined the other camp. There were Zetas and the non‑Greeks to be courted. We were certain that we had the majority, as the campaign moved into high gear.

So intense was the rivalry, that very little else happened on the Wiley campus during those weeks. On election day, tempers were hot. There was at least one fight in the men's dormitory between an Alpha and an Omega.

When the votes were counted, we discovered that the Alphas had stuffed the ballot box. They had done it badly, for there were more ballots cast than there were people eligible to vote. Hence, a new election had to be held. Walking down the sidewalk in front of the administration building the next morning, I looked up to see Hamilton Boswell, my debate colleague, who was president of the Alphas, coming toward me.

"That dirty son of a bitch," I said to myself. "I'm not even going to speak to him."

As we passed, each of us looked away and said nothing. We had gone less than ten paces, when we both stopped, turned around, laughed, walked back, embraced, and said, "What kind of stupidity is this?" I don't know who said it first.

I said, "Ham, let's go to the Wildcat Inn and talk."

Together, we walked in silence to the shack. Boswell and I decided to resign from our respective fraternities and start an anti‑Greek association on campus with the objective of removing fraternities and sororities from Wiley. How could blacks ever unite against the common enemy of racism when they were victims of such fratricidal insanity as that fostered by the fraternities and sororities at Wiley?

He and I promised each other that on the following day each of us would call an emergency meeting of his organization at 7:00 P.M. At those simultaneous meetings in different locations, both of us would turn in his fraternity pin and resign in writing from the presidency and from membership in the organization. At ten o'clock, he would come to my house, and there we would plan our joint attack on the Greek letter organizations, hoping to force them to come together to fight us.

At seven o'clock the next evening, the Wiley College chapter of Omega Psi Phi met for an emergency session. I read to my bewildered frat brothers my formal resignation from the office of president and membership, removed my pin, and gave it to the secretary. I informed them that Hamilton Boswell was at that very minute doing the same thing. Never in my life have I seen such a shocked group of young men. Mouths were wide open in the stony silence of disbelief. I asked the vice‑basileus to take the chair and I sat on another one, which I pulled to the front of the room so as to answer any questions. There were no questions, only harangue. "But, Farmer, you can't do this! Once an Omega, always an Omega."

"You can't leave us."

"Nothing like this has ever happened before to the Omegas."

"Boswell won't do it. Wait and see. He'll double‑cross you."

The meeting broke up without having officially adjourned. At home I waited anxiously for ten o'clock, wondering if indeed Boswell had kept the covenant. He arrived at ten‑fifteen.

Our plan was simple. We would announce in a mimeographed leaflet the action that each of us had taken and would herald the formation of the Anti‑Greek Association. The leaflet would invite members of the Greek organizations and non‑Greeks to join us in this struggle for black unity. The leaflet would also challenge the Greek letter organizations to select two of their members to meet us in a public debate on campus on the topic "Resolved that Greek letter organizations are an asset to the black struggle for equality." (Needless to say, they did not accept because Boswell and I were the varsity debate team. It would be like the first‑string football players inviting the Greeks to select eleven from their ranks to fight it out with them on the gridiron. It was a cheapshot offer.)

Each day, the Anti‑Greek Association announced a new proposition, which would be boldly printed on the bulletin board in front of the administration building in the center of campus. The first proposition was; "Greek letter organizations are uneconomical for minorities." Other propositions were: "Greek letter organizations are divisive, rather than unifying"; "Greek letter organizations are elitist"; "Greek letter organizations show contempt for the masses."

The campus was in an uproar. Boswell and I were drawn closer together, for in the perception of most, we had suddenly grown horns and forked tails. Only the non‑Greeks sympathized with us and congratulated us on our actions.

The more despised we became, the greater was my exhilaration. This was my first experience at tilting at windmills of social fashion, and I loved it. The acrimonious words hurled in my direction sounded good to me, for I knew I was right.

Everyone assumed that Tolson, the campus radical, was behind all this, so he meticulously stayed out of it and withheld all comment. When harangued by other faculty members or students about the stand Boswell and I had taken, he merely said, "I don't think my debaters need any help from me in defending their position," and turned and walked away.

My father said he thought we were courageous and right, but we should have called it the Non‑Greek Association instead of the Anti‑Greek Association.

Dr. Dogan summoned Boswell and me to his office. He sat behind a large, ornate mahogany desk in what was easily the most luxurious room on campus. There were sculptures and paintings, velvet drapes, an oriental rug, and artifacts from all over the world.

His jaws were clenched as we entered. He removed his glasses, revealing eyes serene with authority. The sun coming through the window behind him bounced off his bald head and danced with rainbow colors on the large diamond ring on his left hand.

"Mr. Farmer, Mr. Boswell, what is this I hear about some so‑called Anti‑Greek Association on the Wiley Campus?" His mouth hardly opened.

We sank deeply into two overstuffed leather chairs and explained the rationale and purpose of our actions.

"Kick the Greeks off campus?" His mouth was opening now, and his slight lisp was less noticeable. "You can't kick the Greeks off campus. Greek letter organizations add a lot of class to Wiley College. If anybody is thrown off this campus, it'll be you."

He whirled in his swivel chair and looked out the window, showing us his back and the gray hairs that, unable to grow on his head, had retreated to the soft brown flesh at the back of his neck. When he turned back to us a minute later, his face had softened.

"Forget what I just said about throwing you off the campus. I didn't mean that. You're both good students and fine young men, and we're all proud of you. I'm sure this whole thing's going to be worked out somehow."

The somehow proved to be the most astonishing sequence of events imaginable. The executive committees of the Omegas, Deltas, Alphas, and AKA's met together and agreed on a plan that was subsequently approved by their respective memberships. The plan was simple and precise. I wondered if Dr. Dogan had suggested it. There would be not one reigning monarch, but two: a homecoming queen and a May Day queen. There would be no loser; each candidate would win. The ballots asked students to vote for one of the two candidates for one queenship, and the second for the other; or, if preferred, write in a candidate for each royal throne.

For the rest of the year, the fraternities and sororities met together frequently, and the Anti‑Greek Association, having served its purpose, faded away. It was rumored, though never confirmed, that Boswell had revoked his resignation from his frat, but I never rejoined mine."