Intoduction to SLU Grad School

Although my grades in general were not great, in my last two years they were definitely on the ascent, especially in geography and geology, which were my major and minor respectively. I mostly earned As with an occasional B. I had gotten to know all the profs and think they liked having me in class because I was the type of student who asked lots of questions, including some that occasionally were insightful.

Toward the end of senior year I inquired around about the possibility of going to grad school at SLU to get a Master’s degree and explored the possibility of applying for a teaching assistantship. To my surprise, the reaction was uniformly positive.

Based on my desires and the faculty encouragement, I applied for the assistantship and also wrote a long paper for my senior thesis about recent cutting edge discoveries in the newly established field of plate tectonics. Quite honestly it was the best research paper I had ever written. And I knew it. To make a long story short, I was awarded the grad assistantship and placed second in the contest for the best senior paper. A couple years later, over more than a few beers with Bert McCarthy, he told me that the faculty had voted 7-1 for my paper as the best in the senior class. But Professor Conoyer, the departmental chairman, had overruled them, saying that it wasn’t fair for me to get the assistantship and the $500 prize for best senior paper. The other faculty had strongly disagreed, arguing it was a matter of which paper was of the highest quality. But in the end Conoyer made a unilateral decision. He was, after all, chairman and his one vote counted for more than all seven others. As a result, the best paper award went to Joe F., one of Conoyer’s pets, a nice guy but a huge brown-noser.

On the afternoon of the late June day I was supposed to attend the award ceremony, which was for all students at SLU, both graduate and undergraduate, who had been awarded scholarships, assistantships, and other goodies, I went out celebrating with a bunch of friends and got rip-roaring wasted. By the time I got home at 4:00 I could hardly walk. So I fell into bed and slept for about two hours.

When Mom tried to wake me I simply turned over and went back to sleep. Finally, my fiancée, Sandy, came over and forced me to get up. A half hour later all four of us climbed into the car and headed for the Kiel Opera House, where the ceremony was to be held. I was still drunk and thoroughly miserable, with a head that was threatening to explode. Somehow I found my way to my assigned seat on the auditorium floor and tried not to look totally shit-faced, which was probably unsuccessful as the people around me certainly should have been able to smell the booze on my breath.

I dozed through the interminable proceedings and only awakened when the people in my row stood up and started filing toward the stage to receive our awards. I dutifully followed the guy in front of me, my drunk-eyes glued on his back. When University President Father Paul Reinhardt handed me my award he smiled and made some sort of friendly comment, which I managed to answer without stumbling and stammering or breathing raw alcohol fumes on him. After taking the plaque and shaking his hand I turned and started to walk across the stage but to my consternation no one was in front of me to follow. The guy who had been in front of me had made his way off the stage quickly and I was left standing there without a single clue as to how I was supposed to find my way back to my seat. Oh shit.

I tried to fake it by walking slowly straight ahead while frantically searching for a way off the stage. At that moment the young black woman who had been on my left in the seats came up and took my arm.

“What’s the matter,” she asked softly, leaning into me. “Did you start celebrating a little too early?” She was trying to keep from laughing.

“Something like that,” I whispered sheepishly and grinned like the bad little boy I was.

“Stick with me,” she said, smiling. “I’ll be your guide.” And arm in arm she escorted me back to our chairs. After the ceremony I gave her a big hug and thanked her once more. And never saw her again.

As you can imagine, the climate in the car on the drive home was frosty. Everyone was pissed off at me. Everyone except for the kind young black woman I still owe.