Bernie was one of the fine young men who started their Beloit experience on the second floor of Blaisdell with--let's see--Wayne Urbaniak, Jeff Dietz, Pete Brown, Bob Mazur (now he was quite a story!), Pete Koch (I think) and...my mind gets hazy. But the important thing about Bernie was that he was missing at least one toe, maybe two, on either his left or right foot. He told me that he had shot it off one day when he and some buddies in his hometown of Northfield, Minnesota were hunting rats in the city dump.
For most of us, the loss of a tarsal or two might not have been that relevant to our dormitory experience. But at Blaisdell, our array of quasi sporting events took on such significance that we considered having our golf tournament, handball, tennis ball wars and the bannister climbing championship included as official intramural competitions.
The deal was that the wooden handrails were heavy and stable; attached to steel bannisters that extended all the way up the stairwell from the first to the third floor. If you bent over so your head wouldn't hit the ceiling, you could stand on the rail and race up to the top by holding on to the bannisters and spinning around at the end of each flight of stairs. We would time each other. Bernie was the undisputed champ.
There were two classes, shoes and barefoot, and Bernie clearly had the advantage because he was missing two toes. He could shimmy all the way up the three flights without injuring himself while the rest of us were encumbered by sneakers or increasingly tender, wounded and definitely not pre-hensile tootsies. I'm not quite sure that missing two toes gave Bernie an advantage as a wrestler, but he seemed to be quite good on the mats, too. Short, squat, and really strong.
He was not oustanding in miniature golf on the second floor of the dorm. The course involved negotiating yourself up one hall, around the corner to the right, then left past the bathroom and through the lounge into a plastic cup. As I recall, it all changed when we graduated from putting to using a driver (or was it 3 iron?) and the loft on the ball resulted in a head injury to the woman who was trying to vacuum the hallway..
Thus the next phase of our athletic endeavors--stealthy but almost lethal attacks on unsuspecting returnees from the library at night. It's amazing to discover how much damage could be inflicted by, say, 30 or 40 tennis balls richocheting off the walls all at once.
Then there was Bob Mazur's attempt to turn his entire collection of vinyl records into frisbees flying across the sidewalks in front of Commons; the clandestine feats of "the torch," and our attempts to eat four or five huge Tilley's pizzas before midnight. High drama, gastrointestinally speaking.
What ever happened to Bob? Many years ago I heard he was living in Amherst MA. His girlfriend for many years was Pam Welch. I don't know if they ever married but it looks like they're not married now.
Rick Brooks
Bernie was one of the fine young men who started their Beloit experience on the second floor of Blaisdell with--let's see--Wayne Urbaniak, Jeff Dietz, Pete Brown, Bob Mazur (now he was quite a story!), Pete Koch (I think) and...my mind gets hazy. But the important thing about Bernie was that he was missing at least one toe, maybe two, on either his left or right foot. He told me that he had shot it off one day when he and some buddies in his hometown of Northfield, Minnesota were hunting rats in the city dump.
For most of us, the loss of a tarsal or two might not have been that relevant to our dormitory experience. But at Blaisdell, our array of quasi sporting events took on such significance that we considered having our golf tournament, handball, tennis ball wars and the bannister climbing championship included as official intramural competitions.
The deal was that the wooden handrails were heavy and stable; attached to steel bannisters that extended all the way up the stairwell from the first to the third floor. If you bent over so your head wouldn't hit the ceiling, you could stand on the rail and race up to the top by holding on to the bannisters and spinning around at the end of each flight of stairs. We would time each other. Bernie was the undisputed champ.
There were two classes, shoes and barefoot, and Bernie clearly had the advantage because he was missing two toes. He could shimmy all the way up the three flights without injuring himself while the rest of us were encumbered by sneakers or increasingly tender, wounded and definitely not pre-hensile tootsies. I'm not quite sure that missing two toes gave Bernie an advantage as a wrestler, but he seemed to be quite good on the mats, too. Short, squat, and really strong.
He was not oustanding in miniature golf on the second floor of the dorm. The course involved negotiating yourself up one hall, around the corner to the right, then left past the bathroom and through the lounge into a plastic cup. As I recall, it all changed when we graduated from putting to using a driver (or was it 3 iron?) and the loft on the ball resulted in a head injury to the woman who was trying to vacuum the hallway..
Thus the next phase of our athletic endeavors--stealthy but almost lethal attacks on unsuspecting returnees from the library at night. It's amazing to discover how much damage could be inflicted by, say, 30 or 40 tennis balls richocheting off the walls all at once.
Then there was Bob Mazur's attempt to turn his entire collection of vinyl records into frisbees flying across the sidewalks in front of Commons; the clandestine feats of "the torch," and our attempts to eat four or five huge Tilley's pizzas before midnight. High drama, gastrointestinally speaking.
Lee Taplinger (Taplinger)
What ever happened to Bob? Many years ago I heard he was living in Amherst MA. His girlfriend for many years was Pam Welch. I don't know if they ever married but it looks like they're not married now.
You say you have stories about Bob? So do I.