Dan Susie '68
Tom Howard ‘68, and running back on the football team, was also an avid hunter. He lived off campus, had a beautiful Brittney Spaniel hunting dog, and had enough guns to outfit a platoon from the Phi Delt House which was his living unit.
Unfortunately, there was not too much to hunt in and around suburban Crawfordsville. But then, in the Fall of 1966, Tom discovered the Crawfordsville City Dump.
The Crawfordsville City Dump had live targets – rats. So, Tom and his dog soon began making regular trips to the City Dump sending an untold number of hungry rats to meet their maker.
This live game hunting caught on quickly. . . first with Tom’s fraternity brothers, Randy Slickers, Jim Powers, John Leahy, Russ Dukes, the author, and others, and then with like-minded big game hunters from all across campus.
Soon the City Dump was awash with big time game hunters, and rats came close to becoming an endangered species in Montgomery County.
You could tell when the big time game hunters returned to their living units – they smelled like smoke from all the burning trash.
But alas, all good things must come to an end.
The Crawfordsville Police Department, ever on the alert to stamp out crime in Montgomery County and reportedly having soft spots in their hearts for rats in general, decided that 25 armed college students prowling the City Dump at night might possibly create a safety hazard.
Dean Moore was alerted, and the hunting stopped immediately.
The Gentlemen’s Rule, it seems, applied to rats.
In 1966, the Vietnam War was escalating.
Jim Powers accurately recalls that all of those classmates who went directly into the military upon graduation in 1968 as Jim did earned their sharp shooters’ badges in basic training based on their substantial expertise with firearms honed at the Crawfordsville City Dump.
Storyteller: Dan Susie ‘68
Ron Hill ‘68 never shot himself in the foot, to my knowledge, but he was able to get a some lead from his 22 pistol into the top and out the bottom of his knee without even touching his kneecap – what a magician! – and I don’t think he had much downtime from that incident – Ron was tough, and to him it was “no big deal”
I remember taping a flashlight to the side of the barrel of a 22 rifle. We would move in under cover of darkness to about 30 feet away, switch on the flashlights, and there would be six or seven guns firing away at the same time. The rats started squealing, and if you (by chance) hit one, there would be an extra little squeal – but I’m not sure any of us who were shooting 22’s ever killed a single rat – those Townie Rats were almost as tough as Ron.
I remember it like it was yesterday – which means I probably got the story screwed up – but Jim Roper could add some color, I’m sure!
Last year while cleaning out a closet I came across my 22 rifle with a flash light still taped to it!
That story tops mine, Dan!
Wow, I forgot about that experience in the late 1960’s. There were so many rats that it was noisy just from hearing them overturning the cans and bottles lying around. The upper classmen had us Rhynies wear high top boots or tennis shoes, and duct tape our jeans cuffs to avoid an “up the leg” invasion from the scurrying rat pack.
Then, we’d “drive” the rats down a corridor created by the trash heaps toward the upper classmen, and the rats were dispatched by several means, which are too graphic to mention here.
Maybe this is part of the mystique of being a Wabash Caveman?