February 1931

 

A Note On Bull Sessions

 

By Louis B. White

 

WHEATHER it be at Beta, Omicron, Alpha Theta, Theta or any other of a score of chapters in America does not matter. It is nationally true and fraternally factual that wherever well-nurtured sons of their mothers congregate under social eaves, decorated by hanging pennants, moth-eaten banners, glass-covered shingles or trophy-laden shelves, some form of coal communication called "woofing," "haggling’ (from the English, "heckling), of "chiding" will ensure. In most instances it is most travelled, and therefore imposing brother whose opinion goes farthest in regard to matter of fraternity prestige. Then there is, in all places of our description, one or two hose ratiocinative powers, are most respected and who contribute pointed judgments from their book-ridden desk as their brotherly disputant’s dispute for the glory of–well of just arguing.

 

But head and elbows above any types alluded to above is that superman, poised and eternally confident, strong in character and long of wind, who strikes awe in freshman hearts and fear in neophytes, who never loses an argument, winning by sheer force of personality. He talks louder than anyone else, that’s all; so pestiferous is he that no one can hear himself think, nor does he dare do so. He is no respecter of logic: his compatriots, sure of the strength of their logic-tight compartments, rally around his mountain of words, adding to the whole and so sublimation the session that, losing confidence in what, from an object standpoint, is a winning argument, any recalcitrant brother’s swing to the left out of respect to greater consensus.

 

One must not doubt the social value of these gab-fests where the meekest worm becomes a giant and the dinosaur is humbled. Purposefully or accidentally, they begin with a maximum of mental attention and interest. Shelly, Keats; Ripley, Winchell; Brisbane, Lardnerd; Plato, Schuyler; Nietzche, Broun; DuBois, Young (P.B.) ; et al are quoted, relied upon, defended–all earnestly but vociferously. Then, with increasing temp, someone causally thirsts: "No one but an introvert who has been crossed in love and compensated by erecting a pessimistic philosophy would agree with Nietzche on this business of woman’s inherent malice for men." There follows a: "What the h___ are you talking about. Schopenhauer advanced that view. I get sick and tired of hearing some half-baked statement from guys who don’t know what they’re saying!"

At this point there is a crescendo; one chest has expanded, and one communicants’ respiration decreased. This means glandular reaction followed by slightly increased pulse. Ones pride has suffered and therefore needs repair. The other’s pride swells; he has frustrated dogmatism (he thinks). Soon a third intellect is drawn in, to the defense of Nietzche (or Poker, or Prohibition, or in defense of a remark that dogs think while men reason, or to decry the practicality of Einstein’s relatively or to adumbrate the qualities, or absence of quality, in Eta Lotta Cake men–you know: points in bull sessions apply to any and all things man has ever done, thought, or hopes to do) and a roommate.

 

Tom-toms throb and ear-drums tremble to the pulsations; three, four, now five hearts thump savagely as ancient words and hoary fly; biologic drives get expression as psychologic recede; pent-up emotion, tears and laughter at everybody’s expense! Ladies and gentlemen you are now witnessing a time-honored custom dubbed by the most authoritative anthropologists of American college culture: the Bull Sessions! Tribal lore and chant, in swells and diminuendos, mold the participants into one cohesive bedlam. Four leading cigarettes companies thrive on tobacco consumed by these warriors: future leaders learn the wiles of the wild and the inanities of the inane during these periods when, as one of their progenitors, one William Leftridge (Lincoln man, win or die) says everybody experiences a diarrhea of words and constipation of thought.

 

If only our organization had a committee on the Standardization of Bull Sessions: what added incentives it could instill in chapter-life! A nation secretary with locally elected supernumeraries could record outstanding points of view successfully defended by especially wordy brothers. He could mimeograph and have columnar pigeon-holes in which the secretary would place such items as: curse words most frequently used; locations

founds most conductive to uninterrupted discourse (as, for instance, fraternity house parlor, or bedroom?; Y.M.C.A lobby, or gymnasium?; alley corner, or street corner?; cafeteria, or pool room?); subjects least touched upon: as studies, music, literature, mathematics, and humanism.

 

After these reports had been checked and double-checked the committee would choose the twenty chapters having the most remarkable records and award forty prizes, one for each chapter and one for the session leader in that chapter. We suggest the selection of twenty chapters because a cursory study of the national set-up convinces us that no one chapter is better than any other is this business of Bull sessions and that with sufficient incentives at least a fourth will rise equally to the mark of achieving national prominence.

 

And at the national convention, why it would be a simple matter to have a congregation of all interest Alpha men and have Brothers Park and O’Neal daub a gigantic sign with the words: "National Bull Session" and place it above the heads of the assembly. A brother with the loudest voice could reign as chairman and receive recommendation for, say, the organization of a tournament of Bull-Shooting, or better, the ways and means of refining the manly art of kidding. Oh, there are billions of possible subjects and possibilities for this damn idea! After you have once gotten the spirit of the thing, it’s just like opium: you forget everything and, through its contagion, are lost in a dream world of exotic vagaries. It puts zest and nonsense into life, giving to you that personality only a brother can love. Here’s to the sweetness and light of Bull Sessions. Anyway, Socrates had his!

 

"In the pictorial number last June The Sphinx "Doffed Its Hat" to Brother Louis B. White, the brilliant brother who contributes to the article printed on this page. Brother White is a former member of Alpha Theta Chapter. He graduated from the University of Iowa with high honors, a Phi Beta Kappa key, and a keen interest in the social sciences. This year he is studying in the graduate school at the University of Pittsburgh, majoring in sociology under an Urban League fellowship. At Iowa he was active in the affairs of the chapter and held many positions of honor in campus organizations. His incisive observations and infectious humor were sources of constant enjoyment to the national officers at the executive council meeting in Pittsburgh during the holidays. Brother White is versatile too. He asked divine blessing on the meeting in the afternoon and was a whoopee trail-blazer at the banquet later!"