To be honest, I’m a little short on specifics.
I do know that I was in Kingsville, attending Texas A&I University. Whether I was actually attending classes is another thought for another column.
If the paper had been started during March, then it would have been a safe bet to say that I was enjoying spring break days on South Padre Island (which fortunately was only a couple of hours’ drive to the south) and nights a few blocks across the U.S./Mexico border at Blanca White’s in Matamoros.
So, given that the first issue of CSBJ was published on April 1, 1989, I was likely lounging about the Sigma Chi lodge recovering from those sun-beaten days and tequila nights, and praying that my mind would be right by the time finals rolled around during May.
I do remember that I had a lot more hair back during ’89 — and it was the last time that the length dipped well past my collar. The reason this is such a clear recollection is that when I arrived back in Kingsville during August of that year, three of my fraternity brothers informed me they had formed a group called “The Four Horsemen.”
Membership in this select club required that one have his locks shorn to buzz-cut length. Little did I know that I was the “lucky” fourth member of the group, or that declining the invitation to join wasn’t an option.
Sheldon (whose Horsemen designation was “The Man”), Bill (The Myth) and Bax (The Legacy), held Mike (The Legend) down as an old country barber slapped a No. 1 guard on a pair of clippers and proceeded to give me what my father often referred to as “a proper haircut.”
I can’t remember if anyone laughed when they saw us. I know I would have if I’d been on the other side of the shears.
I do remember that the other members of our fraternity accused us of being uppity, conceited and just about every other adjective you can think of that rhymes with narcissistic.
Of course, that only fueled our already overly inflated 20-something egos. We knew they were jealous because we knew we were better than they were (after all, they hadn’t been smart enough to form a select group and shave their heads).
During rush that fall, I think we probably scared more prospective pledges away than we enticed to join. (Heck, I’m quite certain I’d have pledged Delta if I had gone to a party and seen four semi-bald guys drunkenly proclaiming how great it was to be The Man, The Myth, The Legend or The Legacy.)
Which reminds me, I never really understood where that “legacy” thing came from.
I guess maybe “The Three Horseman” just would have sounded silly.
Mike Boyd is editor of the Colorado Springs Business Journal. He can be reached at Mike.Boyd@csbj.com or 329-5206.