YEAR 2 & CONSEQUENCES

Randall Hall was an old three-story building in which the lower two floors had been converted into a student dormitory. Randall’s room sizes varied; most were only narrow singles but connected to the adjoining singles. Joe Jaffe and I decided to take two adjacently rooms. We had gotten along well as roommates but our study and living habits differed so this would be a good compromise. However, most of the time the door between was open, thus we were still almost roommates. On each floor, there was one large community bathroom. The third floor had only two rooms, we seldom saw their occupants.

There was a large grassy space between Randal Hall and a side road. There, the residents used to play touch football. The building was also on a bank above the road that passed between it and McKim Hall, the student nurse's residence, which was at a lower level. Many an hour was spent on the edge of that bank watching the girls coming to and leaving the McKim Hall either for the “Corner” or down town. There were the usual catcalls and whistles. It goes without stating that, the” parade” was also a mutual satisfying exercise by all participants.

My year in Randal Hall was an unforgettable one, with the development of two lifelong friendships. One was with Bob Sternkopf, an older student who, before going to college had been a marine sergeant and had served in China at the time of the Panay incident.

The other friend was Marty Ball, who was an "army brat". His father was a Master Sgt., stationed during our college years at Fort Meyers outside DC. After the war, we seldom saw each other, but corresponded at least once a year until Marty's death from a brain tumor about 10 years ago. Bob passed away in 2002 at the age of 90+.

Both Marty and Bob were drafted into service shortly after our graduation in 1940. Bob had who had been in the marine reserve became an officer; retiring as a lieutenant colonel. Marty went through OTC and was a lieutenant in the Texas National Guard division. He told me that it was weird that his 5’'9" was in charge of a bunch of tall Texans. He was wounded at Salerno, but I think he also saw action at Anzio. After the war Marty went back to UVA and received his Law degree.

Late 1941 or early 42 while at home for a short vacation, Marty called to tell me that he was getting married the next day in New York City at the "Little Church Around the Corner". He wanted me to be his best man. In those days in most states except Maryland, you needed a serology test for Syphilis before you could get a marriage license. While NY accepted the army test, they would not accept his fiancée's certificate from Virginia, so a day was wasted while one was obtained in NY and the ceremony was performed the next day.

Otherwise, with the exception of the first-year dormitories, discipline or restrictions in the university was very relaxed. Women were constant visitors in the student rooms of this 98% percent male university. Sometimes silly situations arose. Once while in Randall, I was sitting on a stall john when a girl came in and pushed open the shuttered door. She stopped and looked at me then said, “Oh my God if I did not know you I would've been embarrassed”. The fact that our acquaintance was so barely casual that I had no idea who she was, made no difference to her.

Sternkopf, my older role model image, had a steady student nurse girlfriend and everyone knew they were having active sex. The beds were the cast iron type with flat springs, whose side rails fit into slots in the head and foot ends. Once, someone (Marty) tied cowbells to the bedsprings. Another time the side rails were loosened from the slots so that the bed would collapse under them. They were married about a year later, and for a long time I dated one of Alma's classmates.

In the '30s, the school year at Virginia was divided into trimesters plus a split summer session. On Randal Hall's second floor, there was a large room, which served as a recreation room. During the first trimesters, we had a poker game every night. During the second trimesters there were only enough available for a bridge game. By the spring trimesters, only Marty and I felt that we were in good enough scholastic standing to have a new mission.

Every night we would go to downtown Charlottesville and try to pick up two different (town) girls. Without boasting, we were very successful. However, towards the end some of our "trophies" were targets of expediency in order to keep our streak intact. By the next fall, Marty and I had become well known to the local talent, and for a while had steady Charlottesville girl friends. Serendipitously, there was an unusual benefit from this period upon my return from the ETO.

When just after Christmas 1945 our troopship docked at Newport News and we were transferred to Camp Patrick Henry I went to the telephone exchange to call my wife. As I placed the call the operator said “Why Harold Yood how are you”. She was one of the Charlottesville town girls that Marty dated and told me all about the girl I used to regularly date. After she placed the call I was never charged a cent although Helen and I talked for a long time.