Gary, Jim, Dan and I decided to live together our junior year. I didn’t know Dan very well but he was a high school friend of Gary’s and came with Gary’s reference. Jim was another resident of the sixth floor of Eldridge Hall. We were known better by our last names: Maher, Wilke, Walsh and Tebo.
We found the upper flat of a house on Walnut Street between town and Western’s East campus. We each paid $11.00 a week to our two sister landlords. Our furnished two bedroom unit had a nice size living room, a single bath with no shower, and a small kitchen out back that I believe was an oversized porch at one time. We entered from a side door. The set of stairs continued past our apartment to an attic where we stored our suitcases and excess baggage. A first floor unit housed another group of guys that brought in another $11.00 a week from each of the tenants.
Jim and I shared a room. Gary and Dan shared the second. We met in the summer prior to moving in to set up a budget and divide household duties. Breakfast and lunch were on our own, but we made sure that there was food on hand for each. Jim was the “head cook”, Gary was the dishwasher, Dan and I cleaned the place. Shopping was done from a list. Jim made the menus prior to each trip. We chipped in $15.00 a week for food and staples like cleaning supplies and toilet paper. We took care of our own personal needs – toothpaste, deodorant, etc. Each of us agreed that we were responsible to leave a clean tub after each “bath”.
We discussed our likes and dislikes and avoided foods that anyone deemed taboo. Green peppers made my list. We decided that “pot pies” would be on the menu once a week. Each of us would have two in our choice of beef, chicken, or turkey. Jim suggested that BLT’s be one of our staples and we all agreed. He went on to say, “We’ll each have plenty of bacon. When my mom makes them she rations the bacon and we end up with more L than B. Our sandwiches will be piled high.” (And so they were.)
We were responsible for our own telephone bill but all of the other utilities were included in the rent. This was decades before cable TV, cell phones, or the internet. We watched very little TV but when we did we had access to a limited number – perhaps three – channels. We listened to “record albums” and made sure that we had plenty of “mood music” on hand. We had few female visitors but wanted to be prepared for all opportunities that may come our way.
We each had a car and so did most – if not all – of the guys living below. Parking was out back and at a premium. It was a challenge to get them all in, but we made it work.
One evening Gary and I were returning from class, and about to head upstairs, when we heard screaming from the house next door. We didn’t know the cause of the disturbance, but we ran into the house. We found two women crying and yelling for help. “The bathroom’s on fire and we can’t open the door! My son’s in there!” The boy had locked the door from the inside, couldn’t unlock it, and needed help. I can still hear the crackling fire and his cries.
Gary and I tried to kick in the door, (Like the cops on TV) and after failing, ran shoulder to shoulder in an attempt to break it down. Each of our attempts brought louder screams from within. After three or four attempts, the doorjamb broke and the door gave in. The boy ran out. He was scared but unharmed.
What everyone thought was a “crackling fire” was water running in the bathroom sink. The splashing water and panicked three-year old created the false impression that the room was on fire. We left the boy, two women, and broken door behind and headed home.
We lived in the Walnut Street house for just one year. Gary, Jim and I lived together for a total of two. Our fourth roommate changed from semester to semester. Each new arrival brought new stories with them. I’ll have more to share as my tale continues.