^{I Remember when..........}

It was 1959, in Sr. Mary Betrand's 8th grade math class, probably in early May. I sat in the row nearest the windows, on the second floor. These were large, double-hung windows, with no screens, in a room that probably had 10 or 12 foot high ceilings. A thunderstorm had moved through earlier, and it was still raining on the blacktopped playground below.

Phillip McLaughlin sat in front of me. We were all busy working on that morning's math homework, while Sister was busy writing on the board and helping Mary Jo White work out a tune on the piano in the front of the class. Phil turned around with a big grin on his face and said, "Hey Fathman, how much will you give me if I jump out the window?" "A quarter," I said impulsively muttering a reply so that he would turn back around and not get me in trouble. I should have known better... Phil, the guy who cut his hair himself the day after Sister Bertrand threatened to give him "the haircut of [his] life" if he returned to school with hair over his collar. Phil had glued clumps of his hair back on after he looked in the mirror and saw the gouges he had created! If I had reflected a few moments, maybe I just wouldn't have replied at all.

I didn't know until later that he had solicited funding commitments from two other guys in the class. But word spread, whispered from row to row, front to back that McLaughlin was thinking of jumping out the window. After five or ten minutes Phil stood up, took a step to the window, and lifted it all the way up, still with his characteristic big grin. All 43 other heads in that room turned left, following his moves. My heart started pounding, "Nobody would really do something like that, would they?" I silently asked myself and prayed. Phil sat down. There was a barely audible collective sigh, as the moment of terror passed.

Two minutes passed, Sr. Bertrand turned away from the class to again write something on the board. Phillip, in one smooth motion, was out of his desk, at the window, and rolled over the wide ledge disappearing from sight! In a nanosecond, the classroom was transformed from 43 quietly-writing, blue-jumpered, shirt-and-tie mannerly kids into 43 chaotic, jabbering monkeys scrambling and leaping over rows of bolted-together desks to crowd the windows, all the while shouting to the bewildered nun, "Phillip just jumped out the window! Phillip just jumped out the window!" Stunned, shocked, her brain overloaded with stimuli, she struggled to comprehend. There was a stairway to the outside right next to our room. Phil, who had miraculously landed on his feet, had bounded up the stairs and came strolling into the front of the classroom, grin in place, within about 5 to 10 seconds of the event.

Sr. Bertrand said, "Where did you come from?" This was not a catechism question!  When Phil pointed to the window and replied, "Out there," we convulsed in hysterical laughter. The "we" in that last sentence did not include Sr. Bertrand. Turning red with anger, she pointed outside and told Phillip, "Get out of here and don't come back till I've met with your parents!" Phil started moving in the direction she was pointing ---the windows! Sister changed directions and said, "By the stairs!" We again convulsed in laughter, two or three kids falling out of their seats at the very idea that he might do it twice.

Teeth clenched, jaw set, flame red skin about to incinerate her cowl, she fixed her glaze on all of us. Looking at the boy who sat in front of Phillip, an occasionally flippant Joe McHugh, she said presently, "Joseph McHugh! Did you have anything to do with this?" to which Joe honestly replied, "Well, I offered him 12 cents." More howls and guffaws of laughter burst from behind hands clasped over mouths. "Get out of here and don't come back till I've seen your parents!" My heart was pounding. "Curtis Gundle (Curt sat next to Phil), did you have anything to do with this?" "I said I'd give him 17 cents." The class lost it. No one could succeed in attempts at decorum any longer. This was just too hilarious. Even the girls laughed. Curt too was kicked out, and I was sure I was next on the block, as she circled Phil's seat identifying culprits.

But Sr. Bertrand could no longer handle things. Her class, usually rigidly in control, was in chaos. It was time to appeal for help from a higher power - Sr. Mary David, the Principal! Sr. Bertrand strode determinedly from the room. The bell rang for us to go home for lunch. In the hallway, Sr. Bertrand was explaining the situation to her superior and Sr. Mary David asked, "Well who sits behind him?" Dead meat! I hadn't escaped in time. I, 'A' in courtesy, 'A' in study habits, altar boy Bob Fathman, volunteered the info, "I do." When my 25-cent offer was revealed, locker doors slammed, and students laughingly hurried home with the best boredom-breaking story of the year - maybe of the decade!

At my 10-year high school reunion, I was awarded a "Certificate of Notoriety --- to Bob Fathman, who in the interest of a good time, did pay Phil McLaughlin 25cents to jump out the window." More convulsive laughter, this time from over 200 "students" and spouses.

Marilyn (Cox) Callan '63 adds - "I can verify Bob's story about Phil ("Clean Shirt Every Day") McLaughlin jumping out the window -- however, I was, as usual, studiously bent over my work, trying to ignore this nonsense and maintain my straight "A" average -- and, of course, no one suspected me of being involved since I never let these distractions stray me from my goal of being President of the National Honor Society. (Actually..... I was probably asleep.)

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Updated June 22, 2000 - Read Pat Schneider's Senior Moment.