La
Licorne
ON
your MARKS
The door to the house in Gents Street was locked and the windows were shuttered. The scene didn't look inviting. Nevertheless the people gathered in the street were cheerfully chatting as if all wickedness in the world couldn't bother them. Close observance however learned that these young men and women were throwing stealthy glances at the façade and dreading about what to find behind it.
At one o'clock sharp there was a noise of bolts being pulled, and the door opened. A rising figure in evening dress looked annoyed over the crowd, shook his head and retreated. We were very silent now and could hear the door being bolted again. Behind it a terrible dispute arose. Although we couldn't catch a word, there was no doubt as to the issue raised: the angry man didn't want to let us in, and somebody else was quieting him down. When the dispute calmed down the door opened again to show a more friendly type, although as for myself I didn't fail to observe the sarcastic expression on the fellow's face. The entire happening was a hoax, so we knew, but it didn't fail to fill us with awe.
Anyway, we were let in and with that all of us voluntarily marched into hell.
We were admitted as candidates to the catholic students association, and made to understand that this was a privilege granted for undisclosed reasons, but definitely despite ourselves. The same afternoon thirty five boys were provided with green hats to cover their shaven heads and five girls with a silly green ribbons in the hair. Nobody knew how long the rag was going to last. A few weeks we assumed, but soon we were informed that it was going to last for months, given the exceptional inferiority of our lot.
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In 1956 two hundred freshmen enrolled at the university |
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I had arrived the day before and installed myself in a room rented at 67, High Street. The owner, a widow with daughter and son was running a shop in lighting ware. On one side of the shop an impressive front door gave way to the domestic quarters of the house, where -besides the said family and myself- happened to live two gentlemen students, who -as it turned out- were members of the very association I hoped to join.
They presented themselves as amiable fellows interested in my person. Understandably, they maintained the oblique distance. They were just one year ahead of myself but appeared very worldly, and what had I to tell? At one moment during their questioning I must have mentioned my capabilities in carpentry. Now this was not entirely untrue, but it was very low of them to subsequently abuse my confidence. Coming home from the hassle of the Club that same night they had an nasty surprise in store for me. I was supposed to widen the slit in the front door that passed the mail to the doormat. True, they couldn't know how tough the oak had become in the hundreds of years lifetime of the door, but it was unrealistic that I had to fix the work in absolute silence.
Another annoying thing concerned my clothing. From an older brother I had inherited a blue suit, which originally had been my father's. By the time I got it, it was really worn. So I had figured the costume could serve me through rag time and subsequently be disposed off. As it turned out, at the Club the costume made me stick out like a lackey, which provided the right beer for my teasers. Not only did I fail to be a farmer's son, I even came from a town! At that point I came to realize that no matter what I would say or do, all would be perverted by my tormentors.
Fortunately the brighter sides of life emerged as well. From the start I hadn't failed noticing the existence of girls in Wageningen and the girls had also noticed the new students. Under the pretense of returning a lost freshman's hat, a gang of school girls ventured a visit to the Club. Encouraged by the giggles of others one had the courage to come inside while we were lined up, and inspect us with mocking blue eyes. I had no idea then, that my future children would inherit her nerve.
And so things moved forward. Not only did we contend with the situation, we investigated the town, learned about study and student life, picked up student songs, detected friends and even discovered human beings among the coaches. All of a sudden our masters got bored of us, and sooner than expected we were admitted membership of the Club. That entitled us to buy our own beer at the rate of 35 cents of a Dutch Guilder (± 15 Euro cents) for half a pint.
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Front door of 67 Highstreet, Wageningen in 1956. This door was saved when the building was being
refurbished in 1981. It is now installed in an extension of La Licorne,
Bokhoven |
