Dropping Handles

Some of the traditions of the Corps of Cadets at Texas A&M go back a substantial portion of its over 125-year history. Often, they reflect the social customs of that earlier time. In the 19th century, and the majority of the 20th century, the normal forms of address were characterized by a great deal of formalism. Unless and until directed otherwise, a younger person always addressed an older person by Mister or Mrs., as a sign of courtesy and respect. And, in keeping with longstanding military custom, fish in the Corps addressed upper classmen as "Mr. <lastname>, Sir," and those upper classmen addressed a freshman as "fish <lastname>." The default form of address for pissheads with sergebutts and zips (and for sergebutts with zips) was to use the upper classman's last name only. A cadet's formal name was considered his "handle".

For fish, this arrangement with the upper classmen in their outfit lasted until the very end of the Spring semester, when the fish had earned the right to be slightly less formal in forms of address. Then, in a process called "dropping handles", each upper classman would notify each fish, in turn, that from that time on, they both were free to address each other by their first names. Usually the process started with the zips, because they were leaving the Corps soon. A short time later, the sergebutts would start dropping handles with the fish. Finally, a very short time before Final Review, the pissheads would finally drop handles with the fish.

The exact process was unique to each upper classman, and often governed by some outfit tradition. Most often, it involved the fish having to do some final physical exertion to gain the upper classman's grudging respect. When the upper classman was satisfied, he asked the fish, "What's your mother call you?" (since every fish's first name was "fish", it would be pointless to ask a fish, "What's your first name?"). The fish would respond, and then the upper classman would say something along the lines of, "My mother calls me <firstname>," or "Call me <firstname>." After a handshake, the ceremony was over.

Until slightly before our fish year, the process was called "beating off handles", and involved the application of an axe-handle or some other paddle-like device to the buttocks of the fish with varying degrees of force. My father, class of 1944, has told me numerous times of how, after several such encounters with his upper classmen, that he had to use the showers to soak his underwear off his posterior. By 1968, the State laws and University rules prohibiting physical hazing strictly prohibited that kind of contact between students, but, as with most rules that attempt to stop a decades-old tradition, it was often broken. In an attempt to completely stamp out the practice, the current Corps Standard dictates that mere possession of an axe handle on campus is grounds for severe disciplinary action.

Each of us has memories, some fond, some not, of how our upper classmen dropped handles with us. A few of the zips already considered themselves ready to leave the Corps behind, and skipped any physical interaction. Some dragged out a paddle or axe handle, and then just tapped the fish's buttocks. And some of them apparently wanted to continue their red-ass reputations, and to leave a lasting impression, and they did. Some of them were actually gentlemen, and some were just sadists. And, of course, there were the wise-ass fish who sometimes responded, "My mother calls me 'fish', sir; she's real Old Army."

Dropping handles was a little different between an under-classman in one outfit and an upper classman in another. That situation could occur at any time during the year, for any reason the older of the two deemed sufficient, and almost never involved anything physical. Sometimes it was that they were from the same hometown, were related, needed an informal interaction in some on- or off-campus organization, or knew each other prior to coming to A&M. Upper classmen who had dropped handles with a fish were called the fish's "drop-handle buds." One pisshead, Miles Yanta, dropped handles with me at fish camp, just because our last names were so similar.

Strangely enough, I seem to have little trouble remembering upper classmen dropping handles with me, but I have almost zero memory of dropping handles with the three fish classes who came after us in Heaven's Eleven. But, as an adult, I continue the tradition - I always call an older person "Mr." or "Mrs." until told otherwise, and I usually have a lesser opinion of younger people who don't extend me the same courtesy. Sometimes, when they're from somewhere outside of the southern U.S., and can't be expected to know any better (like some of my daughter's boyfriends), I have to give them some gentle education. I guess some of that "Soldier, Statesman, Knightly Gentleman" stuff did take, after all.

John (Yankus) Yantis