University of Virginia Library

XIV. Social Organizations

It would seem that, anterior to 1895, no fraternity had
possessed the means necessary to build a residence of its
own. The associations continued to hold their weekly
meetings in some vacant garret or dormitory, where there
was reason to know that they would be in no danger of intrusion.
At this time, they made up an assemblage of
more or less disjointed clubs, with no perceptible influence
beyond conferring on their members a certain measure of
social standing or exercising a decisive preponderance in
the event of a close and embittered contest for political
honors in the debating societies.

The earliest step towards the acquisition of separate
residences was the use by different fraternities of rooms
in the houses in Dawson's Row. The Chi Phi set up
their home in House D, the Phi Kappa Psi, in House E,
and the Delta Psi, in House F. The Zeta Psi, in 1898,
took possession of the pavilion situated at the southern
end of East Range; and here they remained during
a period of several years. The Delta Kappa Epsilon,
—which was the first of the modern fraternities to
found a chapter at the University of Virginia,—was
also the first among them to build there a club-house

of its own. This was undertaken by it in October,
1899. The members were required to show that they
had collected a fund large enough to enable them to
erect a building that would be completely in harmony
with the general architectural design of the Univesity
as a whole. It was to be constructed of brick,
with a roof of metal or slate. The contractors must
agree to waive all liens in case of a failure on the part of
the fraternity to make the promised payments. The
title to the house was to be vested in the University corporation;
and should its premises remain vacant for the
space of a year, the Board reserved the right to take possession
of it. If the disuse arose from the disbandment
of the proprietary fraternity, and that fraternity should,
at any time, be resuscitated, the decision should lie with
the Visitors whether the house should be returned at all;
but in no case was it to be permanently turned over to the
University's purposes without the fraternity that built
it being recouped for the money which had been expended
in its original construction.

The first independent home of the Delta Kappa Epsilon
seems to have been situated on Fourteenth Street
not far beyond the college boundaries. It was a very
modest framed building, which was divided off on its
ground-floor into an entrance hall, library, and billiard
room. Above were the sleeping apartments. It was at
first designed to serve more as a lodge than as a place of
actual residence. The example set by this fraternity was
followed by the Delta Tau Delta, which acquired the
right to occupy the building that had formerly been used
as the infirmary. The interior of this structure was completely
renovated, and a billiard room, reading room, bed
rooms, and baths added for the comfort and convenience
of the members.

In the autumn of 1902, the Beta Theta Pi and the
Delta Psi also were established in homes of their own.
The Beta Theta Pi took possession of a building opposite
the gymnasium which had formerly been occupied as a
boarding house, and they altered the interior so as to provide
a reception-room, a reading-room and a ping pong
room. There were sleeping accommodations for twelve
persons on the several floors. The house of the Delta
Psi, known as St. Anthony's Hall, was erected at a cost
of twenty thousand dollars. This was partitioned off on
the first floor into a large reception-room, billiard-room,
library, and three bedrooms. There were under its roof
sleeping accommodations for ten, and it contained every
modern appliance for heating and lighting. The Pi
Kappa Alpha leased a house situated on Madison Lane
and looking across the campus of the Young Men's Christian
Association. In the autumn of 1904, the Sigma
Alpha Epsilon rented a building immediately adjacent to
St. Anthony's Hall. During the following year, the Phi
Kappa Psi erected a handsome house of their own with
three bedrooms on the first floor, and five on the second.

The influences which followed the establishment of
these commodious homes were distinctly beneficial from
several points of view. Prior to their purchase or erection,
it very frequently happened that the young men of
the same fraternity, in consequence of their being domiciled
in different parts of the university precincts, and attending
different lectures, possessed no real opportunity
of cultivating intimate friendships with each other. The
grouping of the fraternities under their own roofs, by
bringing the members of each one into daily and even
hourly intercourse, had the very natural effect of removing
all trace of formality in their personal relations. For
the first time, these organizations assumed in full the

character which their names and mottoes had previously,
in most instances, only perfunctorily indicated. Possession
of handsome homes of their own also tended to raise
the general standing of these associations. It was noticed
that, with this increase in dignity, their older members
were disposed to set a better example to the younger.
The spirit of hospitality was also nursed by them with
extraordinary success,—the fraternity houses became the
scenes of pleasant dances, musicals, and soirées; a hearty
welcome was held out to outsiders; and a sober and genial
atmosphere was created, which made itself felt, not
only in the personal relations of the fraternity men themselves,
but also in the social tone of the University at
large. The members, residing like a single family under
the same roof, were quite naturally inclined, like their
elders in the homes of after-life, to uphold the reputation
of their houses for refinement and orderliness.

The erection of these buildings,—many of which were
after a handsome architectural model,—not only contributed
to the attractive physical aspect of the University,
but were also of great practical advantage to the institution
by adding to the number of its dormitories.

In the history of the previous period, some description
was given of the disorderly conduct of the Eli
Banana Society, and reference was made to the Faculty's
determination to put an end to its existence at the University
as a separate association. Finding this body deaf
to their repeated solicitations, the Elis made a direct appeal
to the Board for an order that would permit them to
reorganize; and the Visitors were so much softened by the
earnestness of this petition, that they requested the Faculty
to remove their bar upon the disbanded society if it
were possible to do this without shaking the discipline of
the University. But the Faculty continued immovable.

"Many individual members of the Eli Society," they said
in their reply, "were worthy and excellent as students
and gentlemen, but for years, the society itself has been a
disgrace to the University, and a source of lamentable
scandal before the public. Their songs, avowing and
glorifying drunkenness, habitually sung over the University
grounds, and on the public streets of Charlottesville;
outrageous annoyance of ladies and sick persons by
drunken orgies prolonged far into the morning of each
recurring Easter Sunday, followed by an annual disturbance
of the congregations of the Charlottesville churches
in the midst of Easter services; and the flagrant establishment,
during the public exercises of at least one commencement,
of a place of assembly serving practically as
a free barroom in one of the dormitories of the University,
—are samples of conduct which cannot be excused
on the ground of mere effervescence of boyish spirit; and
all has rendered the existence of the society a scandal and
a nuisance in the eyes of the sober and respectable people
throughout the State."

But the Elis appear to have been made of stuff that
was not to be dispirited even by excoriating reflections
upon themselves like these, and after posturing for a
brief period under the name, as already stated, of "Peter
Magill," they succeeded in June, 1897, in wheedling from
the Board the right to reorganize under their old name.
In the ensuing December, they petitioned for their old
privilege of holding a german in the gymnasium during
Easter week.

While the star of the Elis was under temporary eclipse,
their rivals, the Tilkas, had been industriously employed
in coddling their own prosperity. A larger proportion
of the college honors had, during this interval, fallen to
their share than had ever before been recorded in their

history, but they were not to be permitted to continue
to reap without any competitor in the field. In the
session of 1898–99, the Eli Bananas,—their appetite
whetted by their long sojourn in outer darkness,—threw
themselves into all the contests with such energy that
the Tilkas retired before them beaten and discomfited.
They succeeded in electing one member of their body the
president of the General Athletic Association, and another
the vice president; a third and fourth, manager
and assistant manager of the football team; and a fifth,
the manager of the baseball team. A sixth member was
chosen to the distinguished social office of president of the
German Club. But during the next session, the Tilkas
became aggressive again and recaptured the presidency
of the General Athletic Association. Not very many
months had gone by when the exciting rumor ran through
the University that these two powerful organizations had
entered into a secret compact to make an equal division
between themselves of all the separate honors of the football,
baseball, and track teams as well as of the General
Athletic Association itself. The two lions were not to
leave even a hoof to the unfortunate jackals.

It was calculated that, during the session of 1903–4,
there were thirty positions of political prominence open
to election, and that of this number, all the most conspicuous
were filled by members of the ribbon societies.
From their ranks were drawn the president and vice-president
of the General Athletic Association; the managers
of the football, baseball, and track teams; the president
of the academic class, the president of the law class, and
the president of the medical class; and a long list of
assistant managers and vice-presidents.

There flourished during the Eighth Period, 1896–
1904, numerous other kinds of associations. The classes

were organized during the session of 1890–91 with the
election of presidents to represent the academic, engineering,
law, and medical departments respectively, and these
positions continued to be filled by popular election from
year to year. There followed various clubs of a social or
practical character, notable among which were the Coffee
House Club, the Whist Club, the O. F. C.,—whose
distinctive mark was the figure of Cupid sitting on the
top of a beer barrel, pulled by a team of bottles and tobacco
boxes; the Kodak Club, the Riding Club, the Gun
Club,—which contested with teams from other communities;
the Graduate Club,—which was made up of graduates
and instructors who banded together to advance the
welfare of the University by every legitimate means available;
the Goosequill Club, the Masonic Club, the P. K.
Club, the V. B. M. Club, the Philosophical Club,—composed
of professors and students who met to discourse
upon questions of science and literature, to report their
researches and experiments, and to listen to addresses by
distinguished strangers; the Alliance Francaise,—which
was organized to disseminate French culture by means of
social intercourse and popular lectures; and finally, the
Raven Society,—which was composed of students who
were the foremost members of their classes, with honorary
members selected among the most distinguished
alumni.

The musical clubs continued, throughout this period, to
keep a foothold in spite of numerous discouragements.
In 1897, there were the Glee Club, the Banjo Club, and
the Mandolin Club, each a separate organization, with a
different leader, but, apparently, with a single president,
a single director, and a single manager. The three combined
were designated the Glee, Banjo, and Mandolin
Association. In 1900, there was in existence an organization

that bore the name of the Mandolin and Guitar
Club. Three managers were elected by its members in
the course of this year, one of whom was to be the director
of the concerts to be given at the University of Virginia;
the second, of the concerts to take place in
Richmond and Washington; and the third, of the concerts
to be held at Staunton and elsewhere at Easter.
The instruments used by this club comprised the first and
second violin, the first mandolin, the second mandolin,
the mandola, the first flute, the second flute, the first and
the second guitar, and the bass violin. There was also a
vocal quartette.

The tours of the musical clubs,—which were subject
to strict regulations,—were not discountenanced by the
Faculty, as they tended to arouse interest in the University
among the members of the most influential social
class of the large cities visited. A complaint was heard
that the popularity of these clubs within the precincts of
the University itself was so impoverished that the attendance
at the concerts was always discouragingly small.
The eagerness of the students at large to be present at
the public performances had perhaps been dulled by
the constant intrusion of the same sounds upon their ears
when the practicing was going on in the dormitories.
The social distinction of these occasions was naturally
enough greater abroad under fashionable roofs than at
home in the familiar public hall.

For some years, there existed within the precincts no
dramatic club made up of students alone, although dramatic
performances took place there. About 1903, however,
a University club, composed of men, seems to have
visited different cities to present the lighter plays. This
was the V. V. V. Club. A meeting of interested students
was called in 1904 to organize a permanent dramatic

club. "This," said the editor of College Topics, "is
the first year the dramatic club has appeared as a college
club." It assumed the practical name of the Arcadians,
and its members petitioned the Faculty to put them on
the same footing as the Glee Club and the Athletic teams
so far as to grant them the privilege of giving performances
beyond the precincts, provided that they obeyed
the rules which had been adopted for the other associations
when absent on a tour.

The Hot Feet was an association formed apparently
for the single purpose of enjoying the grand ceremony of
crowning one of their number king in the presence of the
public as spectators. First came the monarch in a motor
car, with his predecessor following in the humble conveyance
of a phaeton. Behind the two trooped a gorgeous
line of cavaliers, with a motley and miscellaneous train of
attendants. After traversing a route that ran first down
East Range, and then across the Lawn to West Range,
and then down this range and back to the Lawn, the dismounted
procession slowly defiled through the Rotunda,
and thence marched, with stately step, to East Range
again, and down this range to the southern end. Here
the coronation took place. The new king, when he
placed the crown on his head, was surrounded by a flamboyant
company, composed of the queen, the heir, the
court poet, the wizard, the chancellor, the archbishop, the
pages, the musicians, the cup-bearers, guards, jesters, and
chamberlains. There were also present ambassadors
from the kingdoms of Dawson's Row and West Range,
from the duchy of East Lawn, the principality of Monroe
Hill, and the independent republic of Carr's Hill. A
feast was spread in Randall Hall, to which the gaping
multitude, with mediaeval hospitality, was invited en
masse by public proclamation.