Friday morning proved to be interesting. First of all, at their walk over to the campus gym that morning, Curtis asked Bryce if he would mind working at the door that evening, checking identifications and collecting fees from non-members, from seven to nine.
“No, I don’t mind, but as I recall from last year, this is usually a task assigned to pledges. What’s up?” Bryce asked.
“We had a meeting of the officers yesterday evening,” Curtis replied. “We decided that we would deny admission to Campbell and both the Lomaxes on the grounds that they have been disruptive in previous parties. That will be the official reason, anyway. The real reason is that we’re convinced that they’re responsible for the attack on Damon last year, and on Peter Boyington this year, and probably for some of the violence at the clash on the quad on Wednesday. We don’t want the party disrupted by people like that. You know them. You won’t be afraid or intimidated by them, and they’re most likely to show up during that two hour span.”
“I appreciate the confidence, Curtis, but what if they get violent? I wouldn’t put it past them,” Bryce asked.
“We talked about that,” Curtis told him. “Kurt will be available right there at the door the entire two hours, and will have at least one other person with him, and others on his staff on stand-by as needed.” Kurt was the rather imposing football player who was also Sergeant-at-Arms of Sigma Alpha Tau.
“Okay. With that kind of support, things should be safe enough,” Bryce agreed. “I’ll be glad to help out. And I completely agree with the decision. The only reason any of them could have for attending an SAT party now that they’ve been definitely rejected is to make trouble.”
But that was only the first of the interesting items to surface on that Friday. After his workout, Bryce returned to the apartment at the Caldwell House, and woke Damon as usual. While Damon was fixing breakfast, and Bryce was changing clothes in preparation for the usual day on campus, his phone sounded. It was only about 8:20, so he wondered who would be calling at that hour. Answering, he found that it was Annette Rimbault.
“Sorry to disturb you so early, Bryce, but I know you go to the gym and get back a little after eight, so I figured it was safe enough,” she apologized.
“Not a problem, Annette. What’s up?”
“I followed through on those interviews you recommended yesterday. I think I have a really great story here. The Herald wants to publish it on Saturday, but I’d like for you to preview it with me, just to make sure I got things right. Just about everyone I talked to said you were the one to kind of check me, especially Felicity Gaines. She’s really high on you, you know,” Annette related.
“Actually, I knew Felicity and I got along quite well, and we most often agree, but that’s all,” Bryce declared.
“Well, call it what you like. How about it? Will you go over my article with me? My editor wants it this afternoon, so he can check it out with the paper attorney.” Annette snickered. “I think he would actually like it if the paper got sued, but he can’t say that.”
“Well, I’m no lawyer. My dad is, and Damon is pre-law, but I can’t guarantee either that you won’t get sued, or that you will,” Bryce commented.
“I just want you to check my facts. You seem to know as much as anyone about what’s going on,” she insisted.
“Okay. I’m free from eleven to two. What’s a good time for you?” Bryce gave in.
“I’m free at noon,” Annette said.
“Damon and I usually have lunch in the Union, either in the cafeteria or in the food court in the basement,” Bryce said. “What’s your pleasure?”
“Would you mind getting something at the food court and eating in the Courier offices? There would be less distraction, and less chance of someone overhearing what we discuss.”
“I thought the Courier was told to keep hands off this story,” Bryce replied.
“True,” Annette admitted, “but as a staff member I still have access there, and no one will bother us. Most of the staff are also ticked off at being told to bury the story anyway.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you there a little after noon,” Bryce agreed.
Over breakfast, Bryce told Damon what was going on, and invited him to accompany him. After all, it was the attack on Damon a year ago which was sort of the background to all this. Damon agreed to meet Bryce at the food court at noon, and then go along to the campus paper office, as long as no one objected.
When Bryce got to Dumesnil Hall for his French class, Dr. Anjot waylaid him, calling him into his office before class. This was a third interesting thing, and it was not quite nine in the morning.
“Mr. Winslow, I have been asked to deliver a message to you,” the Professor informed him. “There was a called meeting of the Faculty Senate yesterday evening, and actions were taken which I believe will be of interest to you. In any case, Dr. Dickinson, who serves as the Senate Secretary, would like to see you at your earliest convenience today.”
“I’m surprised that anything done at the Faculty Senate meeting would involve me, but I’ll surely be willing to see Dr. Dickinson. He’s my academic advisor, and I have his class at two o’clock,” Bryce replied.
“Yes, he mentioned that, but I think he’d like to see you earlier if at all possible,” Dr. Anjot said. “If you wish, you may use my phone to call him now and make an appointment.”
“Thank you. I will,” a wondering Bryce replied. He used the phone on Dr. Anjot’s desk to dial the number for Dr. Dickinson’s office. It was answered immediately.
“Ah, Mr. Winslow!” Dr. Dickinson proclaimed. “I see my colleague was able to catch you before class. Good. Good. I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you. Would you be willing to meet me some time this morning?”
“I am about to go into Dr. Anjot’s class, and I have Dr. Drake’s class next period, but I am free after eleven,” Bryce reported.
“Good. That fits my schedule admirably. Please come by my office at eleven,” Dr. Dickinson requested.
“Certainly, Sir,” Bryce agreed.
As a result of that conversation, or rather those two conversations, Bryce was unable to give his full attention to the material covered in class. He could hardly help but wonder what was going on, and how he was involved in it. To further perplex him, when he arrived at his English class, Dr. Drake called him aside.
“Have you spoken with Dr. Dickinson this morning?” she asked.
“Yes. I spoke with him an hour ago, and I have an appointment with him after this class,” Bryce replied.
“Good. I believe you will make an excellent bridge,” Dr. Drake commented.
“Bridge?” Bryce asked.
“Spanning from one group to another,” she replied, without elucidating the situation much.
But then she was ready to begin class. Bryce got no further illumination until he made his way to Filson Hall and the offices of Dr. Dickinson shortly after eleven. Knocking, he received the usual invitation. “Enter.”
“Ah, Mr. Winslow. Thank you for stopping by,” Dr. Dickinson said.
“Yes, Sir. You wanted to see me?” Bryce wondered.
“Indeed. Yes, indeed. As you may know,” the Professor explained, “I hold the office of Secretary to the Faculty Senate. There was a called meeting yesterday evening. Quite a number of us are disturbed, greatly disturbed, by the actions taken by the Administration with respect to the demonstrations Wednesday afternoon. While we do not have complete information, those actions seem entirely one-sided.”
“I completely agree with that assessment, Professor,” Bryce declared. “But what do you want me too do about it?”
“We need additional information, and the Administration is more than usually reluctant to impart any. Were you present during the events of Wednesday?” Dr. Dickinson asked.
“Yes, Sir. I was there as an observer, not as a participant, but from shortly after eleven until nearly twelve-thirty I was on the quad,” Bryce confirmed.
Dr. Dickinson removed a small recording device from his desk as he made his request. “If you would, please tell me what your assessment of the situation is. I have noted at SAT meetings that you are a careful observer, so your observations might materially help the Senate determine what action to take. And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to record your narration.”
“I appreciate your assessment of my abilities. I’m sure I missed some things, but I have no objection to you recording what I have to say,” Bryce agreed.
Once the recorder was operating, Bryce began his story. “As you will recall from the Sigma Alpha Tau meeting on Tuesday, we resolved that the fraternity would take no corporate action, and each brother was free to participate or not. You may not be aware that I am also a member of the LGBT Club on campus. In fact, I hold the same office you do with the Faculty Senate. I am the Secretary. No sooner had the SAT meeting broken up than I received a call from Felicity Gaines, who is the LGBT President, calling a meeting of the Executive Committee of the Club. She was upset that Josh Young, who is Vice-President, was publicizing his demonstration as an LGBT event when no action had been taken by either the whole Club or the Ex-Com. It was a heated meeting, but the majority voted to do more or less the same thing as the fraternity. The LGBT Club would not sponsor the demonstrations, but also expressed concern for Peter Boyington.
I don’t know whether you are familiar with Peter Boyington, Professor Dickinson. I met him early in the semester, and have only a limited acquaintance with him, but when I heard of the attack on him, I visited him in the hospital. At that time, Peter was a gay person very much in the closet as far as his family was concerned. His mother came to the hospital to look after him, and I met her last Sunday. While I am sympathetic, of course, I could not help but wonder why Peter had been chosen as the object of what was clearly an anti-gay attack. I am not at liberty to reveal everything Peter told me, but there is no doubt that the attack was indeed a hate crime, directed at the victim because he is gay. But Peter is not obviously gay. There is nothing about him which would tell the casual observer that he is gay. Moreover, he has held no position in the LGBT Club, and had made no public statements which would identify him as in any way a spokesman or symbol for gays. He is a first semester freshman, and not widely known on campus.
“Now, I know I have not even arrived at Wednesday, but you will see why I think all this background important, I think. Peter was very upset when he found out that Josh Young was announcing publically that he was attacked because he is gay, but we can leave Peter for now, and turn to Josh and the campus demonstrations. Josh Young represents what one might call the activist wing of the LGBT element on campus. He is impatient with delays when he sees discrimination. I do not believe his approach is the most effective, but I do not question his dedication. He is genuinely concerned, not just a trouble maker for its own sake, or to attract attention to himself. I know this is interpretation, but you asked for my observations. On Tuesday, Josh held a rally, naming Peter as a gay person attacked solely because of his sexual orientation. He believes, as do I, that the Administration is … well, I won’t say protecting the guilty, but perhaps not pursuing the investigation as diligently as possible, because the fathers of the prime suspects have made substantial donations to the University Development Fund. If you will think back to one of the opening fraternity meetings of the year, you will recall that this information was shared with the SAT brothers, and is by no means confined to a few on campus.
“Tactically, Josh made a serious mistake when he announced on Tuesday that he was calling for an occupation of the office of the Vice-President for Student Affairs on Wednesday at noon. That gave others almost a full day to prepare a counter-move. On Wednesday, Josh again addressed the crowds on the quad. From my observation, I would estimate that there were twice as many people there to see what was going to happen as there were active demonstrators. At noon, Josh led those who were willing towards Dinklemore Hall. I would guess about a hundred persons.
“Just as this group approached Dinklemore, a second group emerged from between that building and the School of Business building. As you know, the two are fairly close, so that second group could gather between them without attracting much attention. The demonstrators were ordinary students, dressed like you would find in the cafeteria, or in a classroom, but this second group looked like some kind of para-military group from the way they were dressed. There were fewer of them, but they also seemed better organized. The second group inserted itself between the demonstrators and the main entrance to Dinklemore.
“For a few minutes, it looked like a stand-off, but them someone in the second group yelled, ‘Death to queers!’ I was close enough to hear the words, even though I was on the sidelines as an observer. This, I think, establishes the motive the attackers had for their actions. The attackers had various weapons, mostly clubs of some sort, but I saw a few chains as well. The demonstrators had nothing like that. They were intending to occupy an office, not fight anyone. Consequently, in only a short time the demonstrators were routed, with most driven off, but about a dozen lying on the ground nursing wounds. Most of the wounds were blows to the head, which left the recipient disoriented, hence the bodies on the ground. I understand that only a few required more than first aid treatment.
“This is what I personally observed. May I continue with some follow-up?” Bryce asked Dr. Dickinson.
“Your narrative has been most enlightening. Please continue,” the Professor invited him.
“As you know, Professor, there was an earlier dispute between the Vice-President for Student Affairs and Sigma Alpha Tau fraternity over the request of two students who had been expelled last year, for readmission. Those students were McKinnon Campbell and Bickford Lomax. After they were refused readmission, they and Buckminster Lomax, brother of Bick, applied for admission as new pledges. I was on a fraternity committee to screen the applications, and so noticed these three. All three applications were rejected. At the subsequent fraternity party, these three students appeared, and caused a minor fracas, so I definitely noticed them. Now, after the clash on Wednesday, in addition to the dozen or so demonstrators who were sprawled on the ground, I noticed one of the attackers. He was sitting, holding his head and moaning. I walked up to him and asked why his group had attacked the demonstrators. Although he refused to answer, I noted that he was wearing a fatigue shirt, with the name Lomax over the breast pocket. It was then that I recognized him as Buck Lomax, the brother of the man expelled from the fraternity last year, and who had been rejected for admission this year. I drew the attention of a campus security person to Mr. Lomax as the only member of the attacking group still around. I will not say more about this security officer, as I understand he has been told not to release information.
“Over the past two days, I visited the only demonstrator who had to be hospitalized. That is Josh Young. He related that he seemed to be a special object of attack. Those attacking him always seemed to gang up, at least two at a time. But he noted that he was told something to the effect that ‘we got you this time.’ That made no sense to Josh, nor to me when I first heard it.
“However, I have since learned of a blog on the internet called ‘Aryans Forever.’ The most recent post was clearly written by someone who was among the attackers on Wednesday, and he, too, used the same phrase about Josh. ‘We got him this time.’ I thought about that a lot, and am convinced, although I cannot prove it, that the people who attacked Peter Boyington early Sunday morning are among those who attacked the demonstrators on Wednesday. They never intended to attack Peter, but for some reason got him confused with Josh, who was the object of attack all along. That makes a lot more sense. Josh is an outspoken advocate for gay rights. He is known across campus. He has been around for several years, and is now a senior.
“This is my conclusion, but I invite you to interview Josh and check out the blog, and I think you’ll agree. That’s about all, unless you want me to go into what I believe are connections to the attack on Damon last year,” Bryce concluded.
“Admirably related, Mr. Winslow. I believe you have stated what you saw yourself, and what you deduced from it, quite clearly, and it helps to elucidate several points the Faculty Senate were questioning yesterday evening. If we want that extra information, I will certainly be back in touch, but I have a noon class to attend to now,” Professor Dickinson said.
“Oh, one final comment before you turn off the recorder,” Bryce insisted. “At the LGBT Club meeting Wednesday evening, Vice-President Burnett insisted that the demonstrators were attacking Dinklemore Hall, and so designated them attackers, while he called the other group defenders. There may be some confusion about these terms in various statements.”
“I’ll certainly bear that in mind,” Dr. Dickinson said.
Leaving Filson Hall, Bryce made his way to the food court on the lower level of the Union, where he found Damon a few minutes after noon. They grabbed a few items, then made their way up two flights to the offices of the student newspaper.
As they entered, they encountered a student whose picture appeared in each issue with his regular sports column. He grinned. “You guys the ones looking for Annette?”
“Yeah. We’re to meet her here about this time,” Bryce said.
“In there,” the student said, pointing to a side office. “She’d been pacing around like someone poured itching powder in her drawers. Do something to calm her down.”
Bryce laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
Bryce and Damon entered the side office, where Annette Rimbault immediate jumped up as though startled.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Bryce apologized, although he was not sure for what.
“It’s me. I’m nervous as hell. This thing is big, and it keeps growing. You told me about Bob Balducci in the Business Office, and, like I said, I interviewed him yesterday. But this morning I got a call from him. Of course, I can’t use his name, but he told me there had been two big checks received there for the University Development Fund with today’s mail! Today’s mail! And guess who they’re from! There is one from a certain Bruce Campbell of Lynchburg, Virginia with the same home address as a certain McKinnon Campbell known to all us of, and the other, even bigger check, is from Mr. Terry Lomax from right here in Clifton.”
“This is great information, Annette,” Bryce declared. “It sure increases the circumstantial evidence against the guys we know and love. Their fathers obviously think they need additional support with the Administration.”
“Here,” Annette said, shoving a sheaf of papers at Bryce. “This is what I’ve written for the Herald. I can’t cover every aspect of this thing, but my editor downtown said if the response is what he thinks it will be, there would be follow up articles.” She was clearly greatly excited, seeing herself as the embattled investigative reporter.
While Annette resumed her pacing, Bryce and Damon sat at the desk and went over the article while they ate the lunch they brought with them. Bryce grabbed a red pen from the desk, and began making marks on the pages, which caused Annette to pace more furiously. Then Bryce wrote a few sentences, with an arrow indicating where he thought they should be inserted. Damon pointed out a couple of things, leading to more red marks. After nearly twenty-five minutes, Bryce handed the article back to Annette.
“I’ve made a few corrections, and one very serious one,” he said.
“What? What?” Annette demanded.
“This magnificent specimen of American manhood you see standing … well, actually sitting … before you is named Damon – D A M O N – not Damian,” Bryce proclaimed as Damon preened.
Annette apologized, but was obviously more interested in seeing what else Bryce had written on her article. Most of it was spelling and punctuation, with a few changes in word choice. However, the few lines Bryce had inserted mentioned the presence of Buck Lomax as an injured student following the clash, identified by his fatigue shirt. Annette looked up.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really,” Bryce confirmed. “I saw it myself, and so did Damon, although you see here I used the passive voice … ‘was identified’ … without mentioning my name. I think it’s time to force the pace a bit.”
“This is absolutely scorching hot!” Annette proclaimed. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it. And I’ll make certain I get Damon’s name right there at the beginning, when I mention the attack last year.”
“You’d better if you want any future cooperation from us,” Damon kidded.
But then, Damon had to get to his Spanish class, and Annette had to retype her article and get it downtown to her editor. Bryce had an hour free, for the first time since the day began.
Thinking to relax by attacking something totally different, he retreated to the library, where he used his laptop computer to attempt to discover the origins of Benjamin Watson of Cleveland, Ohio, born about 1818, the earliest of Damon’s ancestors documented thus far. He got nowhere, and had encountered similar difficulties on previous attempts, and so he gave up trying to do it himself, especially with so many distractions there on campus. He noted the address of the Greater Cleveland Genealogical Society, and wrote to them, asking for a recommendation of a competent researcher to do the work for him. He knew that such groups were not well endowed, and so included a generous donation with his enquiry. By this time, it was about time for his Medieval England class, so Bryce set off to encounter Dr. Dickinson once again.