Wrestling the Doyle Owl

One or two days after the nasty eyebrow incident way back in '84 was the Convocation ceremony. I'm still not quite sure what convocation is all about but I attended this first one and enjoyed seeing the professors in all their finery smiling; some magic words may have been spoken in latin.

Strolling up the hill from the auditorium/gym/pool complex, I smelled sweeter common's fair. Thinking that after a quick scrounge I'd guard my desk in the library, I noticed a disturbance in front of me.

I believe the pickup truck was red, likely driven by an anarchist or worse, as in the bed of the truck were several excited students. I edged nearer and saw that these good ole boys had been sitting on a Doyle Owl, or at least a very good facsimile thereof.

Yes holy crapola, there in the bed of the truck was, there... there in the back the truck, literally laying in the bed of the truck, there, there was a chunk of concrete. I learned later when I tried to lift it, it was massive, heavy and resisted shifting bitterly. But I knew the drill, it had to be done, doyle owl at first convocation: Big, Big Big!

I ran into the commons and looked for someone to help but having skipped the orientation backpacking trip to be with my best girl back home I was at a disadvantage. I didn't know a single person in the common. With another turn of the head I saw a friendly looking and largish young student, perhaps he looked at me curiously. No doubt pink with craze, I approached him with a plea to help hoist and heist the owl. What owl? It took some explanation and convincing but Andy, son of a visiting Chemistry Professor believed in the end.

How to move this heavy beast? To help me in my first couple weeks my family had loaned me their 1976 Chevret Chevette hatchback. The sturdy car was parked near the library. I sprinted over, drove among the throng and soon had positioned the get away vehicle close enough to the owl, which was miraculously still lying there in the bed of the red pickup, attracting more and more attention.

Andy and I broke out of the car and our ernest in making for the owl got the pickup driver revving up his engine. Real loud. As Andy and I attacked the weighted mass, thankfully it had 8 inches of rebar exuding from the bottom, the pickup truck started to drive away! This joker didn't think I was a qualified keeper, being new on campus already I was facing my first college discrimination.. OK he was driving slowly. But certainly fast enough to make us sweat double as Andy and I grabbed the iron bar and owl head, rolled it to the back of the bed. The speed of the situations were getting real dangerous before we finally levered the monster out onto the ground where it met with a shower of sparks and finally rolled to a stop.

Wrestling it back and into the hatch was only a long harsh strain, soon we were speeding away up Woodstock and down 39th to my offcampus digs. I shared a flat, well actually a basement apartment, with a sword weilder and above us lived women who had women only parties of heavy footed dancers. I thought they may have been lesbians because I never was invited upstairs to dance.

I had the rock in my closet for a few days. One memorable night a trio of Ladd girls donned blindfolds and were escorted to the shrine to witness. I had visions: me and then mayor Bud Clarke posing together was one. Such fun could not go on very long. Soon I believe it was Chris of Quest was informed of the owls roost. Soon he and many cross canyon minions arrived in a mob and carried off the thing over my uninjured housemate's body. It was heavy I am sure.

Where lurks the Owl?