The first fraternities to arrive on American campuses occurred in 1825 – a fact that was to change my academic life by opening up a whole new outlook on the debate between joining a fraternal group or remaining forever a “GDI” (gosh-darned independent). As a neophyte on a campus in the ’40s, like all newcomers, I was faced with the decision: should I open myself to joining a secret society or remain a student with a mind of his/her own? The female students faced the same option – to join or not to join a sorority?

In my freshman year, I was invited to pledge a fraternity. Why? Not for my personality, but because a distant relative had once been a member and, well, good blood breeds more good blood. Before I responded, I decided to study what was expected to be a life attachment. The results were not promising.

Fraternities, I found, were meant to be secret groups, originally lionized for their selectivity, often racist or antisemitic, favoring men from wealthy backgrounds. Once accepted by a bid, a person becomes introduced to a time of hazing, both openly and privately.

I recalled my first experience of hazing: a fraternity pledge in women’s clothing, openly displayed to the general public on a street by a group of fraternity members. Shocked, I witnessed the members brazenly flaunting the unhappy pledge as they toyed with his clothing, occasionally lifting his dress high enough to reveal his underwear underneath – the members enjoying their activities to the obvious embarrassment of the pledge. Instead of joining in the action or simply laughing, I was shocked by that display.

Investigating further, I learned that public hazing continued for weeks openly or in secret. One popular example found a pledge stripped to his underwear, tied to a tree and smeared with horribly smelly goop – finally concluding in a “hell week” of secret experiences, with the final acceptance of the pledge into the group as a bona fide member.

Balancing out the obviously negative experiences, the rewards were apparently many. According to records the mostly white, wealthy members proved themselves with high academic standards and selective occupations after graduation. Still the negative rumors of exclusivity, abuse of binge drinking and drug use, as well as overtly sexual activities did not balance approvingly to me. So I became a GDI on through graduation and into a new life as an academic professor at our local Michigan Tech, leaving the fraternal societies behind – until one day, during my first years as a teacher, I was confronted again.

A small group of students, 12 men in all, mostly older, some married and fresh from their military backgrounds, sought more than the standard college extracurricular experience, and approached me with the invitation to become advisor to what they hoped would provide a balance with their studies: a fraternity of their own they named Mu Kappa Mu as an homage to their college which was still Michigan College of Mining and Technology at the time.

“I’m sorry, fellows, but I’m a confirmed GDI,” I replied to their plea. “So are we!” was their response – explaining their hopes as a group of men who simply sought a pleasurable pastime together in their free moments, much as the European fellowships of old did.

The next stop for the group was the Dean of Students’ office to request permission to form a new organization. I listened to their plea with Harold Meese, and when he agreed to their request, so did I.

Now what? I approached the Dean for help. “Very simple,” he replied. “Simply maintain a closeness with the group, but always stay one step ahead of them.” And so I did, discovering that a fraternity was many things, ranging from the honestly convivial members to those members purely in it for fun and secret doings.

The year after they formed their organization, they attempted to join one of the many national fraternities, to help with name recognition. Trouble was, their financial advisor Ted Reiss was Jewish, and several of their members, over 100 by now, were non-white, non-wealthy, and varied in religions.

In other words, their members were not stereotypical fraternity men. Fortunately, they found a national fraternity, founded in Oxford, Ohio that appreciated diversity, and in 1959 Mu Kappa Mu joined Phi Kappa Tau national fraternity.

What was once 12 men is now nearly 1,000 and the current members still occupy the “Old Ray Hill Hotel” on West Quincy Street in Hancock that they bought soon after organizing in 1957.

The point for recalling this experience? To demonstrate the advantage of keeping an open mind, to examine any issue carefully before making any permanent decision.