Theta Nu Epsilon Society - Articles - Penn State’s Bad-Boy Frat

The Theta Nu Epsilon Society.

Penn State’s Bad - Boy Frat,

Mike Aquilina, Town & Gown Magazine, December, 1985, pp. 68-78.

One hundred fifteen years ago this month, at Wesleyan University, Middletown, Connecticut, a group of sophomores convened—“a group of congenial fellows who possessed ability for leadership,” said Baird’s Manual of American College Fraternities. They were “representative students in all phases of college life.” They wanted to fulfill “the long felt need of social life at Wesleyan.” They called themselves the Theta Nu Epsilon Society.

Ninety-seven years ago, a group of esteemed sophomores at The Pennsylvania State College met for the same reason. In bucolic Centre County in 1888, sophisticated college men had to make their own fun. This group founded Penn State’s Pi Chapter of the Theta Nu Epsilon Society.

The Free Lance, Penn State’s student publication, heralded the group’s arrival: “The Pi Chapter of the Theta Nu Epsilon Fraternity has recently been established at this college. This is the sixteenth chapter of this sophomore society and promises to be one of the strongest in the fraternity.” This item was printed in June, just a month after Pi received its charter. In November, Free Lance repeated its welcome, almost verbatim. Penn State was glad to have T.N.E. aboard.

T.N.E. was a “secret society” for sophomores. A T.N.E. membership was not exclusive; a T.N.E. could also be a Fiji or a Beta. Unlike most other fraternities, T.N.E. did not have its own house. “Freshmen were initiated in the Spring of their first year and they took over when they became Sophomores,” wrote T.N.E. John Franklin Rodgers, ’95. “Juniors and Seniors were honorary members not participating actively.” The society’s roll of sophomores was annually recorded in code. On its La Vie page each year, the group mystified the unaffiliated with lines of strange ciphers representing members’ names.

Park Hotel; Williamsport, Pennsylvania.

As T.N.E. was a secret society, and its heyday was so long ago, only a little is revealed in existing records. Free Lance regularly announced its banquets, even listing toasts proposed by members (though those proposed by sophomores were attributed only to “sub rosa”). The ’92 banquet was held at Lock Haven’s posh Fallon House, and there members dreamed up many reasons to raise their glasses : Pi Chapter, Benefits of T.N.E., The Initiation, Our Latest Arrivals, Thoughts During Initiation, and “a fine speech by A. F. Damon.” All in all, Free Lance said, it was “a jolly and enjoyable evening.” Later banquets were held at the Park Hotel in Williamsport, where, in ’97, forty members attended; total undergraduate enrollment at Penn State was 220. T.N.E. was a popular secret.

But some time, probably less than a decade after T.N.E. came to campus, something went awry. The society seemed to have lost favor with the College administration, the faculty, and unaffiliated students. Here the tale of T.N.E. becomes more mystery than history.

Professor Francis Pond noted briefly in his memoirs that T.N.E. was a “fraternity to run politics. They were known for their roughness at initiation ceremonies.” Other sources, including other memoirs and Baird’s Manual, agree that T.N.E. was of a political bent. “A powerful influence on student life was exercised by the Secret Society (Fraternity) Theta Nu Epsilon,” wrote S. Leo Ruslander, ’00. “It could and did defeat many a worthy candidate for class and other campus honors.” Ruslander didn’t mention whether T.N.E.’s candidates were worthier. Baird’s speculates that T.N.E.’s political activities were the source of its fall from grace.

J. F. Rodgers elaborated, somewhat, on initiation practices. “The membership was composed of those boys who were friendly and who were known to be ready to do anything cussed or forbidden by College Authority, and who would enter enthusiastically in the doing of anything that might promise a good time. The objectives and principles seemed to be not honorable but rather ‘ornery.’ If a ‘keg’ party was desirable then a couple of boys who had $5.00 would be initiated and thereby funds would be available for said refreshments.”

So that no one would misunderstand his character, Rodgers added: “how I came to be elected to membership I just never could understand, for I was a boy of 17 years and innocent beyond belief. Yes I got experience and had boyhood fun with others, but was not entirely ruined, and I like to think I remained reasonably pure.” At that writing, he was seventy-four.

But not all respectable T.N.E. brothers felt that way. Joe Ritenour, longtime campus physician whose name is on Penn State’s health center, was a T.N.E. and not ashamed. Moreover, the doctor was not one to deny his part in any mischief (see “Dr. Joe,” October ’85 T&G). Joe was quick to defend T.N.E.: “That organization was blamed for many things they didn’t do. They tried to prevent some of the things they were blamed for.”

Though Baird’s Manual denigrated T.N.E. for its loose national organization, and discussed the fraternity under the heading “Obstacles on the Path” (“the Path” being The Great Greek Way), it may provide some insight as to why T.N.E., though possibly innocent of any great wrongdoing, failed.

“In a number of colleges there are societies which are organized on a social basis and admit to membership members of undergraduate fraternities. These have different avowed purposes and many of them have Greek letter names. Some of them are of value and standing. They frequently excite jealousies and sow dissension among the fraternity men, however, and their existence is to be deplored.” [Italics added]

Whether T.N.E.’s “existence was to be deplored”—or, as Joe Ritenour said, they were unjustly is accused—is moot. Most of the criticism of T.N.E. is innuendo, nothing specific; secrecy invited suspicion. To a purple, indignant Baird, T.N.E. was “a mock fraternity of Greek parasites worshipping at the shrine of Bacchanalian hoodlumism,” depositing “blots on the shields of Fraternity Row.”

Since posterity usually gets only the stories that travel official channels, and since all the early brothers are now gone, the T.N.E. tradition will appear negative. They were Penn State’s bad-boy frat, it seems. But can posterity be trusted to preserve the truth? What of Joe Ritenour’s defense? Unfortunately, his is one of the few complimentary statements to survive. A secret society, even one as blatantly undercover as T.N.E., couldn’t very well defend itself openly.

T.N.E. could, perhaps, have presented itself in a much less sinister way. The 1899 group photo, which includes Joe Ritenour, shows the T.N.E.’s dressed respectably and appearing dignified, with what looks like a real skull and bones at their feet. Their membership badges were small, evil-looking gold skulls with glaring green eyes and pearl teeth. In La Vie pages, in addition to the order names, T.N.E. featured a wild engraving which varied from year to year, hut always retained the same flavor in ’93, seven skulls and fiery hieroglyphs and the society’s Greek letters bright in the back; in ’98, eight demons covened with a serpent, flames blazing around them. This stuff was not for the faint of heart.

And maybe it wasn’t for Penn State, either. After 1897, news of T.N.E. disappeared from Free Lance. In 1900 La Vie, even some juniors chose to list their names in code. Then, abruptly, in May 1902 Free Lance, the following item appeared :

Notice.

To all whom it may concern: Pi chapter of Theta Nu Epsilon Fraternity hereby announces its dissolution.

Committee : F. P. Dodge,

G. H. Deike,

H. A. Blair.

Some would argue, no doubt, that T.N.E. had long been dissolute, and an announcement was unnecessary.

But a stronger argument—one in favor of T.N.E.—may be found in the notice’s signatures. George H. Deike, ’03, certainly did not resemble the T.N.E. brothers attacked in Baird’s and other polemics. George’s accomplishments and honors were many. After four years in the College Chapel Choir, George graduated and became a mining engineer, and eventually president of Mine Safety Appliance Company. He was named a distinguished alumnus in 1952; was elected president of Penn State’s Board of Trustees, 1956; and named president emeritus of the Board in 1958. Deike Building, headquarters of Penn State’s College of Earth and Mineral Sciences was named after him. So, two buildings stand today—Ritenour Health Center and Deike Building—namesakes of T.N.E. brothers, on the campus that shunned T.N.E..

Years later, Dean of Men Ray Warnock stated the tradition as he had received it: the organization “came under a ban ... because of underground political activities.”

T.N.E.’s last La Vie spread ran in 1903, though members continued to identify themselves as such in yearbook resumes. Plenty listed T.N.E. among their extracurriculars in 1904—even sophomores. By 1907, however, the number of brothers named in La Vie had dwindled to two: senior John G. Culbertson, ’06, and junior Joe Himes, ’07. Culbertson stuck around Penn State for an additional degree and showed up in a later La Vie, but 1907 was his last acknowledgement of T.N.E..

“The Society finally and properly came to an end,” said J. F. Rodgers, “because it was frowned on by College and Faculties, and many of the Greek Letter Social Fraternities forbade their members joining, even to expulsion if a member did join.”

But did T.N.E. “finally and properly come to an end” when Rodgers believed it had? The record suggests not. The case of Joe Himes presents an interesting problem: Himes, the “New Oxford diplomat,” matriculated in September 1903; T.N.E. officially disbanded at Penn State in May 1902. Was Himes an underground initiate, brought to full membership in some unspeakable rite unsanctioned by the College? Or was the “diplomat” trying to revive the Pi chapter, still warm in its grave?

Anyway, T.N.E. does not appear again in official [sic] (Editorial note: Here and two other places, the words are cut off the page.) was gone for good — until 1919, when a strange editorial appeared in the weekly Collegian. Its subject was one that had not been mentioned since 1902, but its tone was nonetheless vehement.

BEWARE OF T.N.E.

There is an organization at Penn State which is known as T.N.E.—Theta Nu Epsilon. While it goes under the name of a national organization and claims to be a chapter thereof, it is nevertheless very doubtful whether its claims would be substantiated. It holds its meetings clandestinely, it works in the dark ... and if there is any mean, underhand work going on which is detrimental to the best interests of Penn State, it is a safe bet that T.N.E. is at the bottom of it.

Last year extreme efforts were made to stamp out its existence and its members decided for the time being that they had better “lie low.” Certain occurrences in the immediate past, however, have indicated that the organization intends to try to “come back” this year. To the entire student body and especially to the new men, warning is hereby given to beware of T.N.E., never to consider membership in it nor any other similar organization, and if anyone has already become inveigled, either under true or false pretenses, to become a member, to get out of it in the shortest possible order.

Many years ago, faculty action ruled T.N.E. out of Penn State and it has never been recognized since. It has nevertheless continued to exist sub rosa and if there is such a thing as college bolshevism, then T.N.E. is that malady in its worst form.

So T.N.E. was still around, and still visibly... [sic]

The editorial went on to list the organizations that forbade membership to T.N.E.’s: all honorary societies, student council, and all national and local social fraternities. Ultimately, belonging to T.N.E. was grounds for suspension from the College. Things had changed at the college where, once upon a time, T.N.E. had “defeated many a worthy candidate.”

There have been numerous cases in the past and there will be more in the future where students ... have failed to be elected to fraternities or honor societies simply because they had been or were connected with T.N.E.... It scarcely seems possible in these postwar days, when Penn State is bending every effort toward reconstruction and when her prospects for the future seem so bright, that there are certain of her students who are narrow enough, bigoted enough, and so deep in the mire that they are members of an organization which is bending every effort to destroy that which the alma mater is striving to attain.

Those were the days when Bolshevism was new and maybe even at the height of its unpopularity. And school spirit was riding high with the return of State’s heroes of the Great War. Some believed that T.N.E. stood opposed to Democracy and Alma Mater and more. And it’s hard to find a reason why. The Collegian piece had no precedent, and nothing immediately followed. T.N.E., didn’t show up in print again at Penn State until the 1921 La Vie, and there it was touted as a “worthy” organization!

Baird’s explained that at this time there were possibly hundreds of secret societies, on campuses throughout the nation, all calling themselves Theta Nu Epsilon. Some of these gloried in their reputation as heretics; while others longed for legitimacy and a lot on Fraternity Row. The former, Baird’s said, had been organized by “unscrupulous jewelry salesmen and ... persons with mercenary motives.”

The latter group prevailed. In 1925, T.N.E. became “a complete open organization,” Baird’s exulted. It “amended its constitution, revised its ritual, adopted a pledge pin and coat of arms and added other phases to embrace all of the requisites necessary to function as a general academic fraternity.”

Later editions of Baird’s used a warmer tone when speaking of the prodigal brothers: “Theta Nu Epsilon was completely transformed into a general fraternity with exclusive membership ... This change of policy was a tremendous moral victory for the Grand Councils.” The Councils had worked from within to redeem T.N.E., bringing it into line with the standards of the “true” fraternities of the day. First, the Councils proposed, T.N.E. must cease to be a secret society. Naturally, this item met with resistance from the purists in the organization. What, these reactionaries must have thought, is T.N.E. without its secrets?

At Penn State, beginning in 1927, the reconstituted T.N.E. was legit. It had a house, a page in La Vie again (though no names were printed in cipher), and a photo of the complete brotherhood (sophomores, too) in each yearbook.

The group lived at 306 South Allen Street for a couple of years, then moved to 224 East Beaver, and finally settled in a mansion on Thompson Street (now Fraternity Row). Joe Ritenour and some other old-timers still on campus were included as “Fratres in Facultate” on T.N.E.’s yearbook pages. And the new T.N.E. turned out some good men. The late Carl Sassaman, ’40, State High band director during the ’40s, was an active T.N.E..

Theta Nu Epsilon remained at Penn State until 1940, when it finally disbanded. The nation’s last T.N.E. chapter, at Ohio Northern, dissolved in 1942. The Penn State Pi chapter house became come to several fraternities over the years; the Campus Crusade for Christ occupied it not too long ago. Now it’s Pi Lambda Phi’s domain.

Though long ago some said there was no more T.N.E., and they were wrong, it’s probably safe to today to assume the group is gone forever. T.N.E. and like organizations have gone to where old college Greeks go when they fade from campus: to some Elysian Fields (of ivy?) or some Hades of an alumni association. T.N.E.’s no longer, but the mention of its name can still raise the dander of the right people.

Dear Mike,

Theta Nu Epsilon has never been a member fraternity of the National Interfraternity Conference. In fact, we believe, a few, perhaps many, N.I.C. members actually forbid membership in T.N.E. by formally adding sections to their constitutions and bylaws. Therefore, whatever the purposes of T.N.E., there may be no good reason to feature the fraternity in your magazine.

Interfraternally yours,

Johnathan J. Brant

Executive Director

National Interfraternity Conference, Inc.

Somewhere, some T.N.E.’s may or may not be laughing.

We are.