Nothing hurts more than when a fellow Kenyon student refers to our beloved Collegian as the Collegiate, our satirical foil. As trivial as the difference between an “N” and a “T” might seem, it cuts deep, and I’m sure the Collegiate staff, whoever they might be, are equally as distressed to have their identities mixed up with us smug and uptight Collegian folk.
But the Collegian was not always so serious. There was a time when the pages of our paper were as untamed as the Wild West, filled with cigarette ads, offensive cartoons and opinion pieces that paved the way for the term “canceled.”
Between the years of 1978 and 1980, 34 satirical articles were published under the pseudonym Pee Wee Fernbuster, a ridiculously opinionated caricature of a washed-up Kenyon student from the ’60s with the singular purpose of stirring the pot in Gambier. From urging the school to show pornographic movies at events to insisting dormitory beds be installed with “magic fingers,” Fernbuster’s column sheds light on a comical, controversial and often forgotten part of the Collegian’s history.
In his first column, published in October of 1978, Fernbuster explains the problem with Kenyon: “The students here are just plain dull.” Going on to criticize the absence of hazing culture and the overemphasis placed on academics, the crux of Fernbuster’s column is salient: Kenyon needs more fun.
Fernbuster’s most outrageous piece, published on Feb. 15, 1979, is a rant about the problem with women on campus sparked by his initial frustration with the Collegian’s female editor-in-chief for reducing the paper’s type size. The article’s first claim is that Kenyon attracts “ugly women” because “the only girls who could have put in the extra study time necessary to equal the man’s performance, and thus be admitted, were the girls who were too ugly to get dates in high school.” Fernbuster then goes on to his main point, which is that women are taking over campus involvement. He writes, “[N]ow they’ve got their own radical organizations on campus. Where, I ask, will it all end?”
Still, Fernbuster maintains that he is, in fact, a lover of women, expressing that he supports the idea of coed showers, reads Hustlers and “contributed so generously to the repeal of repressive statutory rape laws.” Not all of his jokes aged well.
On Dec. 6, 1979, Fernbuster urges students to enroll in the Peewee Fernbuster Famous Holy Man’s School to learn the valuable skills of “Preaching To The Masses, Creative Theology and Its Uses, receiving Divine Sanction for Your Acts, Murder, Lying, Deceit, and much, much more!” He insists that his instructors are prepared to teach any religion, but for an extra fee, students can have a customized faith designed for them. He writes, “Just think of the fun and excitement when your followers take over embassies or mosques, or when you proclaim yourself Pope, and launch your very own crusade!”
In the last Collegian issue of Volume 15, Fernbuster’s character goes out with a bang, participating in one last interview before being killed by a lightning strike. In the interview, Fernbuster gives his opinions on the draft, saying, “I think every red-blooded American has the right if not moral duty to have bullets flying by his head, especially women and feminists. It builds character.”
Fernbuster’s sudden death, coincidentally (or not) coinciding with the Class of 1980’s graduation, begs the question: Who was Pee Wee Fernbuster?
In the 2009 biography Looking for Calvin and Hobbes, author Nevin Martell asserts that Bill Watterson ’80, along with his two friends Bob Tenney ’80 and Tom Chestnutt ’80, was the writer behind the Pee Wee Fernbuster column. It is unclear where or if there is proof to back up this claim — all we do know is that Watterson named a prototypical version of his comic Fernbusterville, seemingly a reference to his Collegian persona.
However, in a Collegian issue from 1980 bidding farewell to graduating writers, only Chestnutt and Tenney are credited as the ghostwriters of Pee Wee Fernbuster. This might be a matter of avoiding redundancy, as Watterson is already credited for his role as a cartoonist, but still, this complicates Martell’s claim.
So could it be that one of the most controversial writers of the Collegian’s past is also one of our most famous and celebrated alumni? It appears so. Regardless, let this go to show that, just like your emo phase in high school, newspapers have phases, too — at least this one does. And maybe right now we are in our serious phase, but Pee Wee’s legacy lives on. And while I see no future in which our newspaper promotes hazing or makes derogatory remarks about female students, I see no problem with bringing a little more mischief to the Collegian.