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Continuing the Chronicle of Nu Beta, with additional content:

The 1939-40 cabinet consisted of Eugene Maupai, W. Donald Davison, Kenneth Mehrhof, E. Wallace Van Winkle and Robert Bunnell. During this time Brother Jacob Lipman, '98, Dean of the College of Agriculture, passed ad Astra. Jake, as he was affectionately called, had been a faculty member of the original Scarlet Club, and was initiated at the time of the installation of the Chapter in 1918. He was a Fiji to the core, and source of great inspiration and wise counsel to the House. His three sons, Edward, Daniel and Leonard, had followed him into Phi Gamma Delta, and Ed was Purple Legionnaire at the time of his father's passing. His funeral was held at Kirkpatrick Chapel.

Despite the looming great conflict, many successful house parties were held during the year. THe Ladies Auxiliary held card parties, teas and buffet suppers to raise funds to buy important 'doo-dads' to decorate the Chapter House and make it more homey. Vince Kramer endowed the Chapter with a very fine trophy that year, to be given annually to that Brother who excelled in intramural sports. His involvement would stretch for decades into the future.

1940 saw the bestowal of full Chapter brotherhood on Donald F. 'Scotty' Cameron, the culmination of his growing ever closer to the Chapter. He was a Union College Fiji, class of 1924, who came to Rutgers in 1929 as an instructor in English. He was Purple Legionnaire in 1930-38. Scotty went on to become University Librarian in 1945. He wrote the Introduction to the Chronicle of Nu Beta, reproduced here. In Spring 1940, the cabinet became C. Jack Van Winkle, Herbert Newton, Charles Fansworth, Herbert Potter, and John Huntly.

When the Fall semester of 1941 opened, the Second World War was beginning to make itself felt on campus. In the first few weeks, the Chapter set a precedent by voluntarily cooperating with the New Brunswick Air Raid Warden's Society in the capacity of spotters on the 12 to 4 A.M. shift. The cabinet of 1941-42 was John Huntly, Robert Bleeker, Robert Ainslie, Robert Christensen and John WIlliams. President Huntly was drafted into the Armed Forces in 1942; his tenure was filled by Clifford Pangburn Jr., who was then elected to a full term in his own right. Cliff was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the infantry, and he and his buddy Huntly were both to later make the ultimate sacrifice during the invasion of Normandy in June 1944 which was to prove such a pivotal battle in the defeat of the European dictators.

The House became inactive in June 1943 for the duration of the War, reflecting the national mobilization which the Nazi, Fascist and Japanese militarist threat occasioned. This was an era of privation and sacrifice, with ration cards, 'Victory Gardens', 'Tin Drives', 'Rubber Drives', 'Steel Drives' (when the consumer goods sacrificed to the smelters were still made of steel), War Bonds, and much more. Women sacrificed their silk stockings to parachute production, and in clever compensation drew lines down their calves to pretend to be wearing stockings. There were multiple demands on the nation, with many families sharing the ultimate sacrifice of a family member. It was this sacrifice that properly earned this generation, in Tom Brokaw's formulation, "The Greatest Generation".

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Here is an excerpt from the Rutgers Oral History Archives (reprinted with permission), of an interview with Harry S. Evans, '47, providing some wonderful detail of another era through his personal account:

"[E]very few months, we would have a fraternity house party where the dates would move into the fraternity house and the men would move out and there'd be one father and mother of one of the ... brothers, would stay at the house for, I would say, a little chaperoning, naturally, and the girls would all move in. ... we would have dancing that evening and dinner and everything else, everything happening at the fraternity house. ...

Then, World War II came along and we had the announcement that those who would enlist would be guaranteed to be able to finish their semester. So, the entire cotton-picking fraternity went down … to the gymnasium, where they were registering, and we all lined up and all enlisted in the Army, and then, that was that, and we … went on with our lives and we had one of these big weekend parties, with Emelie there and everything else like that, and, suddenly, the phone rings. One of the brothers, his mother or father called to say he had gotten a notice that he had to report to Fort Dix on such-and-such a date. "Wow, you know, gee whiz, kid, feel sorry for you," [laughter] but, then, another phone call, another brother, then, another phone call, another brother, another phone call, another brother, a phone call for me. … We were to report to Fort Dix. Rutgers lived up to its promise. I was in the Army by February of 1942, but my credits were carried over for the entire semester and I received marks of the same mark that I got in the first semester. They gave me [that] for the second semester, so, I had full credit. I can't quarrel with Rutgers; they did their end. I didn't think much of the Army. [laughter] "

This is from an interview with Robert MacPherson, '42:

Well, I got through Rutgers, basically, with "1"s and "2"s in any journalism course, and "3"s in the rest of it. I failed trigonometry once and had to take that over, which, of course, being a young man, interested me not one bit, [laughter] and there is a story about one of the professors, … we may be jumping a little ahead here, but, when the war broke out in December of '41, in January of '42, the Army, or the government, or something, created a bunch of … airplane spotting locations, where you picked up the phone and said, "There's an airplane up there," and somebody did something. At any rate, the Phi Gamma Delta fraternity volunteered to man the midnight to dawn shift, and, unfortunately, I was put in charge of that, and, as you may expect, there was a lot of extra shifts that I did. I also had an eight AM American history class with Professor Peter Charanis, I think it was, something like that, … which saw me very, very little, and so, when it came to graduation, which was in early May of that year, I went around to see Professor Charanis, and I laid it on the line, … and I told him exactly what I was doing. I said, "I deserve to fail the course, I admit it. If you fail me, I don't graduate. I'm going in the service in two months, let's strike a bargain. Give me a "4," and I get my degree and get out of here, and we'll forget it." God bless the man, he did. [laughter]

Yet another great personal account, with some rich detail about one of the most famous Nu Betas, Vince Kramer, from a man who was a roommate of his, Herbert Newton, '41.
'KP' stands for 'Kurt Piehler' below:

KP: How did you end up rooming with Vince Kramer?

HN: There was a fellow from Bordentown, by the name of Tom Wylie, who graduated a couple of years before me, and Tom was a member of Phi Gamma Delta, but he didn't live in the house. He had a room on the third floor in a boarding house next door. I was with Tom one particular day and we went next door to the Phi Gamma Delta house and that was my initial contact with Phi Gamma Delta. That was my initial contact with fraternities, and that was my initial contact with Vince Kramer. He was there on this occasion and so Tom Wylie said, "Hey, Vince is coming in, why don't you come in?" and so forth and so and so, so that is how the whole thing started. So Vince and I matriculated the same year here and went into the house. He was the only person that I knew, that I had met, and so forth, and we just teamed up and decided to become roommates, that's all. It worked out great.

KP: We have interviewed Vince Kramer and his interview lasted about six hours. Do you have any recollections about him?

HN: I think, rather than to answer that question in the light of a college student, I would rather answer it in this way. After the war was over, and others in our class have talked about this from time-to-time, Vince really surprised us, in the manner in which he had become worldly. He had learned so much, particularly about history, and even until this day, he will tell you all about the Russians, the Germans, the political aspect of Nazism or Communism, and so forth. You ask him, "Why did such and such happen as far as," take like the Bosnia war over there? You ask him questions about the ethnic groups over there, and so forth, and he will tell you. Not only give you an answer, but he will tell you the political aspect behind it. He is well-mannered and he went all through as a career officer in the Marine Corps, but that enabled him to go to service schools like the General Officers' School. To be in the infantry in the Army, it would be like Fort Benning, in the Infantry School, and so forth. He is very, very knowledgeable.

KP: And he had not been that interested in history before?

HN: No, I never saw anything that would indicate such.

KP: When I interviewed him, he knew a lot of history. You could tell.

HN: We even kid today, something will come up, and he will make some answer, or some remark, or something like that, and I will say, "You didn't learn that in Rutgers."

KP: You really thought that he was changed by the war.

HN: Oh, yes. Everybody will say the same thing. He has mellowed. He is more serious, though always a great kidder and still funny. He changed, he really did. Maybe we all did, I don't know. You don't see yourself as somebody else does.

Here is a link to application form for Vince Kramer scholarship.

This is from a later graduate of the forties, whose graduation was delayed, as was many others's graduation, by 'matriculation' into the armed forces. This is from an interview with D. Robert Mojo, '49. 'KP' stands for 'Kurt Piehler' below:

KP:  When war was declared, you were waiting for your number to be called.  You figured that you would be drafted at twenty-one.

RM:  Yes, yes.  I was at Rutgers, and, of course, some had left, or were in the process of leaving, and then, I was called up.  I joined a fraternity, Phi Gamma Delta, became a Fiji, and ... some of the upper classmen were in the process of leaving when I joined the fraternity, and, incidentally, fraternity life, in my experience, was one of the greatest things that ever happened to me.  ... It prepared me for the Army, in a sense, and I made friends that I have to this day.  When we go East, we get together with fraternity couples that we got to know then, and it was just a marvelous experience.

KP:  How long were you there the first time?

RM:  One semester, and then, of course, when I returned, after the war, we picked up where we left off.  Our house had been rented to another group, and they had a fire, and the house was destroyed, and so, when we returned, we had no house.  We met in ... a dorm for a while, and then, rented a house, 15 Union Street, and then, eventually, bought another house, which is, I think, still there now, on 78 Easton Avenue.  I think it's 78.  I'm not sure of that, either.  [laughter]

KP:  Did anyone from your high school go directly into the service?  Was there a rush to enlist in West Orange?

RM:  There probably was.

KP:  However, among your friends, you all intended to go to college first.

RM:  Yes.  ... As I say, we had no idea we were going to even be in the service, and then, all of a sudden, when the age limit came down, then, we were drafted.

KP:  Your favorite professor at Rutgers was Donald Cameron.  How did you get to know him?

RM:  He was a Phi Gam, and so, that's how I'd gotten to know him.  ... He was a very, very good fraternity man, as well as a wonderful person, and he eventually became the chief librarian, and he taught English.  I had him in basic freshmen English, and I'll never forget the first time that we were assigned a book report, and [it was] one of the few times in my life when I didn't prepare for a book report.  It was supposed to be an oral book report and I thought, "Well, I probably won't be called, because my last name is M, and it'll take him a while to get there, you know, and I'll get ready for it tonight, and, ... by the next class, ... I'll be ready."  Well, sure enough, he called on me and I stood up.  I gave the name of the book and the author, and then, became speechless, and he looked at me, and he said, "Mojo, sit down," [laughter] and I can still remember the feeling of utter despair, and that was the last time in my college career that I wasn't prepared for an assignment.  [laughter]

The privations and horror of the war understandably caused a significant reordering of priorities on the part of returning veterans, as recounted by Carl Woodward, Jr.:

[A]fter the war, World War II, Rutgers just mushroomed. I mean, all of these veterans came back and they were all over town here, going to school and really studying. My fraternity, Phi Gamma Delta, [had been] always on the borderline of whether you're going to be on pro[bation] because you're poor scholastically, or whether you're into some mischief or something when I was in school. When they came back, the first graduating class after the war we had eight Phi Beta Kappas. [laughter] And that's the difference. These guys were older. ... They had a goal in mind. They were going to get it. And, of course, it was the federal money, the GI Bill, that was helping to subsidize that. It was a great thing. Really. Put these kids ... through college after they went through what they did ... in the war.

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Speech by H. Kenneth Fish at Norris Pig Dinner 2011:
I pledged Phi Gamma Delta in the Fall of 1941, just before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. The times were different then.

My Class of 1945 had 500 students. Rutgers had less than 2000 students. Attending chapel was compusory then, on Sundays and once during the week. One could get excused from Sunday chapel. There were 19 active fraternities on campus, each of which made an enormous contribution to the quality of life on campus. We were one of the largest, with 50 or more brothers and pledges.

The fraternity house was then located at 586 George Street, and very convenient to the quad where most of the pledges lived. I was in Hegeman 2 along with several other pledges. Quite a few more were living in Hegeman 4. A fierce but friendly rivalry developed between these two houses.

Back in 1941 no woman, not even my Mother, was allowed in the dormitory except on Sunday afternoons. Women were allowed in the fraternity house in the common rooms, that is the two living rooms and the dining room, which were on the first floor. On party weeekends, such as the weekend of the Junior Prom, women took over the house but then the brothers and pledges were not allowed above the first floor. On those weekends some artful brothers were seen taking mattresses to the basement for their own comfort, and I believe, pleasure.

At 586 George and after the end of World War II at 15 Union Street, the brothers had rooms in the house for study and dressing but all of them slept in a common sleeping room located on the third floor at 586 and on the sleeping porch at 15 Union. No women were allowed in those rooms and no alarm clocks were allowed either. Pledges had the duty to wake the brothers up at the time they wanted to be awakened, whether it was 6 AM or 10 AM.

The brothers who lived at 586 George had breakfast in the house; most pledges did not. Nearly everyone had lunch and dinner at the house. The meals were, as I recall, rather good. We had a married couple, Apple and Ralph Jackson, as cook and chief housekeeper living with us and they were much respected and loved. I suspect that we didn't pay them what they were worth. They left shortly after the US entered the war and had a son shortly afterwards. I believ they returned a few years after the war and after the fraternity had taken up residence at 78 Easton Avenue.

I loved dinnertime at the fraternity, except when I was called on to sing a Rutgers or Fiji song. I am not blessed with a good voice, and can rarely sing on key, and I think some of the brothers exploited my weakness for their own entertainment. When called on to recite some piece of history of the fraternity, I did quite well. We wore ties and jackets to dinner and were required to watch our manners. Once every two weeks or so a faculty member was invited to dine with us and if you were asked to sit at the table where he sat, you were expected to enter into engaging and relevant conversation. Not always an easy thing for young freshmen to do but good experience for life after college.

Pledges and indeed brothers were encouraged to participate in sports or other extra-curricular activities at the college. During the years I was on campus, many Fijis were in the Glee Club, which meant that the singing after dinner was really a treat. Since I was not an athlete, I was encouraged to try out for basketball manager. Of course, I got the job along with two others, for the senior manager was a Phi Gam. My job was to referee scrimmages of the squad and on the nights of games to purchase grapefruit and cut them up so that the players could suck on them during the game to quench their thirst. I also kep time with a manager form the opposting team. I must say that during the game againsts Princeton in 1942 I was tempted to stop the clock so that Rutgers would have time to score a few more points. But I didn't. Brother Bob Bunnell was on that team. We had a fair year, but basketball wasn't played at the fast pace it is today.

After Pearl Harbor, many of the brothers and pledges volunteered as night air wardens at the Raritan Arsenal.

Our fraternity had over 50 members when we started the academic year in September of 1942, but the brothers soon began to be drafted and in early 1943 over half of the brothers were in the service.

I left in April, before the school year had ended. The only good thing about being drafted at that time was that I didn't have to take final exams, yet received full credit for my courses, but not the grades I had hoped for. Have you ever heard of ASTP, the acronym for Army Special Training Program? As students were being drafted and were leaving campus, GIs were arriving to study special subjects, principally math and languages. The program meant employment for the faculty too.

As you may know Phi Gamma Delta suspended operations during the war years 1944 and 1945. The alumni rented the house to the Sammies and the house burned down in a tragic fire, so when the Phi Gam veterans returned after the war, we had no house. Through the good offices of the college we found 15 Union Street and were able to rent it for a reasonable amount, and we were back in business. The house was considerably smaller than the one on George Street, and could only hold about 15 of us. It had no kitchen and most of us took our meals at the university dining hall. I think it only had two bathrooms, so most of us relied on the facilities at the gym for our showers. In the European Theater during the war we would be lucky if we had a shower once a week, so I don't remember it being a problem for most of us.

We had a great group of brothers and were successful in pledging a particularly fine group of men, many of them veterans of course. All were serious about finishing their education as quickly as possible and getting on with their lives. The college operated on an accelerated schedule. I graduated in September 1947 and actually entered law school before my graduation.

But we were serious about enjoying the social side of college as well and we had many happy times together. We were damn proud to be Fijis. It was an exciting time to be on campus. The war was over and all of us felt lucky to have survived. We cared about each other and worked well together as a fraternity. Those were truly happy days, some of the happiest of my life, and I am sure the other brothers felt the same way as I when I say that.

As an example of the happy times we shared:
George Coombe and Bill Huber, who graduated in January of 1947, entered Harvard Law School in the January class. I joined them in September. Rutgers football team played Harvard that year in Boston, and the whole fraternity drove up to Boston for the game, camping out at the YMCA, as well as in George and Bill's room and in my room. Two brothers slept on the floor of my room. Rutgers won. To celebrate we all went to Scollay Square, a place where every sailor arriving in Boston spent quite a bit of time and money. We saw Sally O'Keefe twirl her tassles from every point on her body.

Further evidence that Phi Gamma Delta is not for college days alone:
Many brothers from the classes of the war years come together every Fall for a tailgate party and a football game, the Fiji flag flying high overhead. The Fiji spirit runs high in the classes of the 40's. One year over 20 of us with spouses showed up for the Miami game, with many staying to the bitter end, and we paid a visit to the new house at the time.

We were the lucky ones. Some of our brightest and best were not so lucky.

John Huntley, Class of 1942, was killed in action in France on July 12, 1944, shortly after D-Day. John was President the year I pledged.

Ellis Millard, a happy-go-lucky guy with a big smile that was sure to brighten your day, served in the Air Force, [ed: at that time a branch of the Army] and was killed in action in the Aleutians [Alaska] on December 6, 1944.

Cliff Pangburn, a prince of a guy, President during my Sophomore year, was killed in France on June 23, 1944, 17 days after D-Day. He was awarded the Bronze Star for bravery under enemy fire.

James Mettler, my roommate in my Sophomore year, was killed in action in France on August 6, 1944. Jim was an engineering student and studied late into every night long after I had turned in. Jim could do 20 or so one-handed pushups, by the way. He was a farmer's son, and one of the most honest persons I have ever known.

These are the guys every one of you here tonight would have been pround to call 'Brother'.

Thanks to David Farkouh for sharing this with us.

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Continuing the Chronicle of Nu Beta:

In the Fall of 1944, the Nu Beta Board of Trustees was asked to rent the House to Sigma Alpha Mu, who were determined to remain active through the war. The Sammies had recently sold their house, and hoped to rent until they could purchase or build a replacement. Although the Board was not keen on renting the House, they relented, and moved most of the interior pieces, chapter files and ritual objects into storage.

In October 1945, tragedy struck, as a fire, apparently caused by a defective flue, burned half the house to the ground, at a loss of three lives. Thanks to adequate insurance, a new house was not out of reach. Thus ended the era of 586 George Street.

As a stop-gap, starting in Summer 1946, a house at 15 Union Street was leased; despite its inadequate size, it served for three academic years.

Upon resumption of relatively normal activities in Fall 1946, the older members of the Board of Trustees, including Bill Feitner, Howard Huber, Henry Van Mater, Mike Higgins, and Ad Schell, decided it was time for the younger alumni to take over management of the Chapter property. Schell was persuaded to remain on the board for continuity's sake, along with treasurer Yarnell Kuhlthau. Scotty Cameron became President of the reorganized group, and was succeeded eventually by Bob Steifel, Dick Marshall, Bob Christensen, John Winant, Bill Heinl and Fred Hock.

A memorial plaque was placed in the Green Room of the House in November 1946 to commemorate those Brothers who died in that World War. Their names are: John Mutch, '28, Richard Hartman, '30, Louis Bauer, '42, John Huntley, '42, A. Frederick Bauer, '43, E. Clifford Pangburn, Jr. '43, Ellis Millard, '43, James Mettler, '45, and Henry Hale, '45. With the spirit of those men enriching their hearts, the brothers of Nu Beta once again opened the portals of the Fiji house, and the Chapter became active for the 1946-47 school year.

Robert Aubrey, chosen as temporary president by the Brothers who met in a dorm room in the Quad earlier, was succeeded by the first regularly elected postwar cabinet: Kenneth Fish, Forrest Briggs, Leo Schwoerer, Martin Borsak, and Donald Colville. Since the House did not have adequate kitchen facilities, food was transported nightly from the University Commons. The Stewards supplied ancillary elements of the meals, such as appetizer, bread, butter, beverage and dessert. This determined spirit transformed this makeshift fare into a worthy fraternal cuisine through the manifest unity of purpose and joy at resumption of a semblance of a normal life after the rigors of the war years. Inadequate though the rented house might be, the application of hard work transformed the space into a more worthy house; the interior was completely renovated, with the basement becoming a combination dining hall and rec room. It was then that the never-to-be-forgotten arrangement of 'Jungle Town' first resounded within the Chapter walls, with Ralston Coslett directing the singing group to a triumph in the Brett Song Contest. Edward Shaw, Henry Koehler, Donald Colville, Robert Mojo and Robert Ross were elected to serve the next year.

On the sports front, Ernie and David Turp, along with Jack Kearton, were stalwarts on the soccer field. Robert Lyman and Mal McLaren represented us on the gridiron, and Andy Kmetzo was on the lacrosse team. Turp was later named to the All Eastern Soccer team, and went to the Olympic tryouts in Philadelphia. Andy Dundon was a member of the Glee Club, Student Council, and helped Fiji to a second consecutive Brett Song Contest triumph.

The Chapter won the Coon Plaque for 1947-48, which is awarded to the undergraduate chapter that has produced the best chapter publication for the preceding academic year. It was the gift of Owen L. Coon (Northwestern 1915) in 1932.

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