Letters

Fun Times at the Movies

In 1971, I attended summer school at Texas A&M. I lived in a dorm near the Grove and attended several movies shown there that summer. The price (free!) was right, and that was an important factor at the time. The campus had a calm, almost peaceful feel to it that summer, and an evening spent at the Grove seemed to reinforce that.       

One night, they showed “We’ve Never Been Licked.” My dad, Ernest Shillingburg ’43, was a student at the college when the movie was made on campus during World War II, so I certainly wanted to see it. The crowd of students that showed up that night was noticeably larger (and rowdier) than previous evenings.

Throughout the film, the comments, wisecracks and general observations from the practically all-male audience were, as you can imagine, almost as entertaining as the movie itself! Your article in the spring 2019 issue of Spirit made me recall a fond, nearly-forgotten memory, and I thank you for it. 

Sneaking a Cup of Joe

With the approach of what we used to refer to as “bonfire weather” coming up, I wanted to share a short story from my first semester as a Fish in the Fightin' Texas Aggie Band. This particular incident probably occurred around Nov. 22 or 23, 1959.  

The band’s primary role in constructing the bonfire was working in the stacking area, where we lifted and moved the logs closer to the base of the stack after they were delivered from the cutting area. On this particular night, the weather was extremely cold and wet, and we had worn ponchos into Duncan Dining Hall for our evening meal. As we were finishing our dinner, a senior band member instructed me to sneak a full pot of hot coffee out to the bonfire area under my poncho.

When I got to the work area, the senior took the pot and added the “ingredients” required to complete its “conversion” to a pot of “Irish coffee,” which even a few of us Fish were allowed to share. When the pot was empty, it was handed back to me with instructions to return it to the dining hall the next morning. This presented me with another problem: how to return that banged-up stainless steel coffee pot to Duncan without being caught, especially since the weather had cleared by the next morning and we were no longer wearing ponchos. I decided to just stick it in my foot locker and wait until the next rainy day when a poncho would provide the needed cover. 

Well, it seems that I forgot about that coffee pot! I still have it after almost 60 years, and the “D.H.” engraved around the top is still visible. It is one of my most treasured possessions, along with great memories of bonfire and “Old Army Days” in Aggieland.

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