Cary A unit friends celebrate 45th annual reunion
Ask any Cary Quad resident circa 1974, “Who was the biggest jerk who walked the halls?” and you were likely to hear the same answer: Chuck Harville (P’76, DP’89). It was a mantle he didn’t mind. It can be fun to be the instigator. In those days, orientation programs were less structured, and as leader of A unit orientation, it fell to Harville to assimilate the frosh.
“The purpose of orientation was to encourage bonding among the guys through the mutual hatred of someone, and the target of that hatred was me,” Harville says. “My role was akin to that of a drill sergeant.”
Harville and his fellow Cary Club leader Mark Real (A’78) held fake fights, throwing soft punches in a carefully staged exhibition of good vs. evil. Their routine was so pat, the pair could have had careers in the WWE.
“He would get on all fours crawling around, and I would pretend to kick him in the belly,” Real says. “I would be hailed as a hero. I kind of liked it.”
Whispers of mischief, shenanigans, or tomfoolery floating around the halls could usually be traced back to Harville. His no-holds-barred personality earned him the nickname the Duke of Discretion among his friends from Cary A unit. He’s the type of charismatic guy who’s galvanized by surrounding himself with others, by performing for an audience. It’s no wonder, then, that Harville found himself feeling a bit lonely during the summer of 1974 when his close-knit group at Cary disbanded as friends headed home for summer break.
The gang in the 1970s.
“I had to stay in West Lafayette over the summer to maintain in-state residency, so I got a job working in the pharmacy making $2.20 an hour,” Harville says. “I was living in a house with two roommates — 314 W. Stadium — and they were going home over Fourth of July weekend, so I invited everyone back for a summer party.”
He wrote a letter, copied it at the pharmacy building, and dropped the envelopes in the mail, hoping people would show up. About 15 people arrived to spend the weekend drinking, joking, and sleeping on the floor.
“If we had any pictures from that first summer party, we couldn’t show them to you. It was pretty disgusting,” says Greg Griffith (LA’77). “For some of the guys who were there, that was their only summer party.”
But for Griffith, Harville, and Real, the summer party of 1974 was their first of 45 — and counting. Mary Ann (Kiesler) Horn (HHS’77, MS M’91), is close behind. The group’s sole original female member, she was there the second year, making sure no one got into too much trouble. Her mothering tendencies earned her the nickname Ma.
Early parties resembled that first year, thrown by whomever was still in school. Sometimes girlfriends would show up. Then wives started getting dragged along. Linda (Mattingly) Griffith (HHS’78, MS EDU’90) has attended 40. “I wasn’t invited until after our wedding,” she says. Before long, it developed into a full-fledged multi-day family affair, held at campgrounds or hosted at someone’s home. As children married, summer party might revolve around the wedding.
“We didn’t really know if it was going to go past the 15th year,” Griffith says. “If you had asked us at the very first one, if we would still be doing this 45 years later, I’m not sure anyone would think so.”
Many in the group have gone to great lengths to attend. John Brennan (AAE’76) came from Germany where he was stationed with the air force. David Klinstiver (CE’76, MS CE’87) flew in from Saudi Arabia where he was working for the US Corps of Engineers. Tom Pietryga (ECE’78) reckons he’s racked up about 925,000 frequent-flier miles traveling to summer parties from Texas, New York, and California. No matter how far they travel, or how many years it’s been, they all pick up right where they left off, as if no time has passed.
“There are stories that have been told every year for 40 years. It becomes part of summer party lore,” Griffith says. “In a way, for a few hours on a Saturday night, you relive your college experience.”
Retold over the decades, these memories have morphed into legends, as the best stories often do. Who can forget the year Real won the Nude Olympics? He and three other students lapped Spitzer Court for more than an hour in single-digit temperatures before the event was declared a tie. Or Terry Keefer’s (EnE’76) 21st birthday at Riehle Brothers Tavern? A flaming shot of 151 rum enveloped his face. It set fire to the peanut shells on the table. They were definitely thrown out of the bar. And Keefer woke up in the morning with singed eyebrows and a lip sticking out to here. “Terry always was accident prone,” Griffith says.
Anytime somebody turned 21, he was hauled down to the Levee and thrown into the Wabash River. “My birthday is in February,” Griffith says. “So they had to break the ice. A car stopped to check on me; they thought we were disposing a body or something.”
That tradition lived on at the annual summer party where marriage engagements were recognized in the same fashion, although the mighty Wabash was substituted with the nearest swimming pool. These are the tamer tales. “There are some stories that cannot be told under any circumstances,” Harville says.
Summer Party 15, held in 1988.
Another story that will be retold for years? Summer party 45, when Harville sunk a hole-in-one on No. 7 of the Ackerman-Allen Course. For a group whose banter revolves around one-upmanship, that fluke occurrence will earn bragging rights for a long time to come. Athleticism has always been central to the group. As students, they dominated intramural sports. For many years, scrappy two-on-two basketball tournaments were a main event. “That got intense,” Harville says.
Now, most of the wives no longer attend, and the group spends four days or so playing golf courses around West Lafayette. They still stay up into the wee hours of the morning trading stories. Throughout the year, they keep in touch via a group text that sees a lot of action during Boilermaker football and basketball games.
“What started as just a group of guys drinking together has evolved into a deep connection with one another’s lives,” Griffith says. “It’s more than just a group of grads getting together. We’ve relied on these friendships to get us through the lowest points in our lives.”
Over the years, the brotherhood has become a family; summer party, a pilgrimage.
“Being with these characters, it’s some of the best entertainment I get during the year,” Real says. “It’s an enjoyable weekend to be around a bunch of guys you love and want to hold on to.”
As for Harville? He hopes summer party never ends.
“I made them promise that when I die, it’ll keep going,” Harville says. “As we start to pass away, it will become a memorial. When we lose members of our family, we’ll want to gather and talk about the ones who are no longer here with us. I don’t think it will ever end.”
This story appeared in the Fall 2018 issue of Purdue Alumnus magazine.
