A REAL ONE-LINER

I'm at an age where one reminisces a lot, or younger family ask about things back in "the dark ages". when I was young. My wife reminded me of a beauty, one of the classic put-downs of my salad days.

I graduated from prep school, The Hill School in Pottstown PA, in June of 1945 just as World War II was over in Europe and, two months later, would be over in the Pacific as well. The war was still on in June of '45, so I figured I would accelerate and start in college right away that summer and have some credits under my belt before I was drafted in the Army. (As fate would have it, the war ended in August, and I didn't go into the Army until Korea time in 1950.) I was accepted at Princeton, In the meantime, my prep school roommate and staunch friend took the summer off, and then in the regular fall term entered Princeton. He was the one who had talked me into attending Princeton: I had been accepted also at Harvard, but Bob talked me into being with him.

Bob and I had come out of the strict almost monastic milieu of prep schools, in these days modeled on the British "public" schools system where discipline and austerity were supposed to be character-building. Personally, I think they only succeeded in making us hornier and ready to raise hell. I made it to my Junior year at Princeton before they caught up with me and kicked me out, saying I should go home and mature a bit and then they would reconsider my readmittance if I showed the proper maturity and contrition. Before they nailed me, however, Bob, who always was smarter than I, goofed off and got kicked out after his first term.

We got the news just prior to our going home for spring vacation. We huddled together and came up with a brilliant strategy where Bob would deliver an impassioned speech in defense of his record, promising to mend his ways if given a second chance. We wrote the speech together; he practiced delivering this speech while I watched critically. Finally the big day arrived, and he got an interview with the Dean of the college, Francis R.B. Godolphin, whose nickname, for obvious ironic reasons, was "Smiley".

Bob appeared at Dean Godolphin's office, filled with fire and zeal, ready to launch into his passionate defense. He entered the Dean's office and fired his opening salvo: "Dean Godolphin, I know I've made a bad mistake". The dean never changed from his stern and stoic visage and quickly replied' "Bad? Heh-heh, fatal!"

Bob's speech flew out the window, and he left the office totally crestfallen and mumbling to himself.

You have to give Smiley Godolphin credit---what a one-liner put-down!

P.S. I went on to graduate from Hamilton College and got low honor grades. Bob went on to Brown (he was from Providence RI and his family had connections) and graduated SUMMA CUM LAUDE, then got his Masters and Phd. in Psychology from Harvard and at one time taught at Cambridge in England. He died twenty years ago tragically of a brain tumor.