After living on the same floor in Marycrest their first year, these five juniors have been roommates ever since. They’ve been enjoying their first semester living in a house in the south student neighborhood, and look forward to all the memories yet to be made.
Their refrigerator door doesn’t fully open, but these residents say the tradeoff — single bedrooms and close-knit friendships — make up for it. Take a tour and see what makes 457 Lowes so special.No Comments
The pranks began their first year when they still lived in the dorm. They continued in later years at 47 Chambers St.
“I was very fortunate to spend two years [on Chambers] with five wonderful chaps,” said John McDonough ’70. Those roommates were Ted Kanatas, Paul Gagel, Ted Knapke, and twins
Bob and George Hoguet.
They and the other freshmen of University Hall — a men’s dormitory several miles west of campus — were “always hungry for attention,” McDonough said. They got it after creating a large-scale replica of a small airplane and a 90-yard banner that read: “Men of University Hall say Go Flyers, Go!” Before a football game in fall 1966, they ran the banner and plane across the field, preventing the opposing team from takng the field.
The UD police and athletics division weren’t too happy, but the fans loved it, said George Hoguet.
Fast forward to fall 1968. The six men moved into 47 Chambers. The house took “a lot of elbow grease and a little money,” but they fixed it up some, McDonough said. They spent their junior and senior years in that house, where their friendships became stronger. Of course, the pranks continued.
One late Saturday night, the men came back and made enough noise to rouse Knapke, who had to be up early for work. In retaliation, after all in the house were asleep, he blasted a John Philip Sousa record on full volume and marched away, forcing them to get up and go downstairs to shut it off, McDonough said.
The housemates had their fun, but studying always came first and work second. “Each of us was on a mission to graduate in four years and then meet our obligations beyond,” Kanatas said.
The friends still get together often and attended their 45th reunion this summer. “In spite of our enhanced age and the wisdom that accrues with time, our individual personalities have remained intact,” Knapke said.
“It is a joyous time when we get together,” McDonough added. “We banter like it was yesterday and have come to appreciate each other more.”1 Comment
The residents of 46 Chambers are six student-athletes enjoying their time in the north student neighborhood. Since the weather has been warmer, the residents use their porch to study.No Comments
The four residents of 204 Lawnview are fifth-year students completing their final days at the University of Dayton. Take a tour of their house today.
Read about the residents who lived there in 1983.2 Comments
through the student neighborhood any time between 1989 and 1992, you could follow the sound of Mötley Crüe blaring from 225 Kiefaber. Once you got there, you could join the residents for a round of golf.
Ron Prasek ’92 found the house his sophomore year with friends he met in Stuart Hall — and he didn’t move out for three years. His sophomore year, Prasek lived with Mike Corcoran ’92, Rick Stempien ’92, Pat Stillwagon ’92, Brett Cuthbert ’92 and Bill Stevenson ’92. Junior year, he lived with Stempien, Stevenson, Leif Hansen ’92 and Bob Byerlein ’92. Senior year, Leif stayed, and Rich Murdy ’92, Scott Eyink ’92, Larry Marshall ’93, Jimmy Miks ’93 and Mark Pollaci ’92 moved in.
Prasek eventually knew the house like the back of his hand. Despite its age and a basement that reminded him of a dungeon, Prasek grew to love it, and the residents gave it a personality all its own.
“We were known for the type of music we played,” Prasek said. “It wasn’t the typical ‘college music’ — it was new wave, hard rock.”
While weekends were usually for letting loose, the guys spent one afternoon of leisure practicing their backswing. They innovatively designed an entire 18-hole golf course scattered across the backyard, through their back door and out to the
The residents’ inventiveness came in handy more than once. During one chilly March, they lost power, resulting in no electricity or heat for days. Friends offered their own warm houses, but the Kiefaber crew refused and “did it the college
way,” Prasek said.
“We were sleeping with hats and gloves on; we could see our breath,” he said, “but we ran an extension cord from our house to our neighbors’ so we could watch TV.”
Prasek still keeps in contact with his former roommates and often reminisces with them about the old days of song, sport and shivering.No Comments
Having the eighth pick in the housing lottery, the four fifth-year students of 306 Stonemill call their house an “Alumni Hotspot,” centered in the middle of the south student neighborhood.No Comments
It’s a strange feeling to visit a house you once lived in, only to find a fraternity now occupying it. Such a feeling arose in 2004 graduates Katie Guibord, Kristin Oberlander and Rachel Sites Haedt during Reunion Weekend 2014, when what was their 413 Kiefaber St. has since become the Alpha Nu house.
But that’s not to say 413 Kiefaber doesn’t have its peculiarities in 2004.
“It had orange shag carpet with ground-in bubble gum,” they recalled. “It is the same color it was for us, with wood paneling and peeling paint.”
Though often considered a coveted location in the student neighborhood, 11 years ago 413 Kiefaber provided special struggles for its residents.
“The lottery was always a source of anguish, but our group had three people so we got a good spot,” they said. “Our neighbors were nuts. There is a ton of space on the left side of the house, but people always insisted on walking through the small alley on the right, and we could hear everything.”
The ladies of 413 Kiefaber stuck together during their entire University of Dayton experience, so they got through crazy neighbors, each others’ quirks and rumors of a “flasher running around the student neighborhood” their senior year by teasing Kristin for binge-watching “Law & Order” and mothering “ridiculously-named” gerbils.
“It was part of its charm,” they said.1 Comment
Despite seven different schedules, the residents come together once a week for community dinners and enjoy people-watching out their front window.No Comments
It was a midwinter snowstorm that truly made 120 Evanston a rock-star house. But first, there was the porch-sit strategy.
Housemates Linda Bowman Kelly ’78 and Kathy Moeder-Christensen ’78 met as cheerleaders for the junior varsity basketball team, while Debbie DeCurtins Townson ’78, Beth Perry Wright ’78 and Barb Haber Hawks ’79 were Flyerettes.
The five moved into 120 Evanston, found by Kelly, in 1976.
“I remember the upstairs consisted of two small bedrooms with bunk beds, one closet-size bedroom and one small bathroom,” Moeder-Christensen said.
With only one bathroom to five girls, Moeder-Christensen said she still wonders how they managed it. Though 120 Evanston is now University-owned, she remembers it as one of the nicest landlord houses to live in off campus. Because
of this, they were “particular” about it; so they made friends with the neighbors when it came to porch-sitting.
“We visited 460 Lowes — a.k.a. ‘The Upper Lowes Gang’ — to sit on their big porch,” she said. “It just so happened that they didn’t mind us visiting. Now, that’s a house with some stories.”
One that Moeder-Christensen and Kelly will never forget is the Blizzard of ’78. Students living on Evanston had to walk to class by maneuvering over a hill and crossing railroad tracks, which no longer exist but at the time were treacherous in
“We had so much snow that winter, and when the big storm hit, classes were cancelled and we spent the day making a huge snowman with our friends on Lowes,” she said. She recalls that 120 Evanston was one of the only houses in the area
that had heat, thanks to their landlord.
“We were nice and toasty while everyone else was freezing,” she said. “[It’s] one of my fondest memories.”
Like many Flyers now in the student neighborhoods, the 120 Evanston women remember their house and neighbors affectionately, and wonder what the houses are like today.
“If walls could talk,” said Moeder-Christensen.
Take a tour of this house with today’s residents.No Comments