Great Minds Unlock the Secrets of Ditch Day

Eight students dressed in togas lounged on the lawn outside their dorm, drinking beer and eating doughnuts, fortifying themselves for a day that would include covering a courtyard in toilet paper, decorating a bathroom with Cheez Whiz and searching for women’s underwear in the school library.

Such are the rigors of academic tradition.

In this case the tradition was Ditch Day, an 81-year-old rite of passage at Caltech. Outside of Southern California, Caltech is probably best known for its expanding collection of Nobel laureates.

But to its students and staff, not to mention Pasadena residents, Caltech wouldn’t be Caltech without Ditch Day.

When else could the students get a chance, as happened Wednesday, to use their brawn as well as their brains? When do teachers let students off for the day, especially to search for underwear? (An explanation on that in a moment.)

Years ago, Ditch Day was a simple, low-key event. Starting in 1921, seniors skipped classes for a day, “a brief respite from the drudgery of the academic year,” according to university admissions material. But undergraduates eventually got so fed up with the tradition that they broke into seniors’ rooms and wreaked havoc, and seniors began setting up barriers in front of their rooms.

And then, in a fit of Darwinism, Ditch Day evolved into this: Seniors set up elaborate “stacks”--hurdles, puzzles and obstacles--that groups of undergraduates must overcome to gain access to a senior room, where prizes await.

Caltech officials estimated that there were 20 separate stacks this year for students to solve; students thought there were more. Some stacks required intellectual prowess, others brute force.

“And some stacks, you run around and do zany things. Like this,” said freshman David Griswold, 19, pointing to his toga. Griswold was a member of a group of seven undergraduates, one graduate student and one self-described nonstudent, a Caltech groupie who had chosen to be part of the Toga Stack. Among the first tasks--”TP-ing” the courtyard.

Toga-clad Jessica Edwards, 23, a graduate student in systems neurobiology, watched Griswold fail to launch a roll of toilet paper over an orange tree. “This is the saddest commentary on Caltech,” she said. “None of us knows how to do this.”

Students follow the orders left behind by seniors without question, and each class attempts to outdo the orders left the previous year.

Everywhere one turned Wednesday, students were running across campus in groups, some in matching T-shirts, some wearing capes or other costumes. They dragged heavy construction equipment across the campus and muttered aloud about what might lurk beneath the many black-tarped obstacles that had sprung up on lawns and patios overnight.

One group of students built a battering ram--they weren’t sure for what--while another sifted through a box of keys, looking for the one that would open a student’s mailbox.

Some stacks live on in Caltech mythology, among them, the 1987 re-furbishing of the Hollywood sign to read “CALTECH.”

Last year, students said, one group was required to film a short movie: “Godzilla Comes to Caltech.”

According to campus legend, any senior caught on campus during Ditch Day is duct-taped to a tree.

“Is it 11:30 yet?” asked sophomore Debbie Lee, a geophysics major and member of the Toga Stack, as the group sat outside the school coffeehouse. Following orders, they had already consumed the doughnuts and beer (root beer, actually) and were opening a series of envelopes throughout the day, each assigned its own time.

“My cell phone is going by atomic time,” said Edwards, “and it says 11:28.” The group sat together as they counted down the minutes: 11:29 ... 11:30.

“Open it!” said Griswold.

The next set of orders led the group to a subterranean basement of the geology building, where they found a picture of a professor holding a “lunch” sign. Faculty and staff members are often drafted to play roles in Ditch Day.

The Toga Stack’s hopes had been answered--except they had no idea who the professor was.

Fifteen minutes later, though, with a bit of ingenuity and a helpful department secretary, they found professor Geoffrey Blake, who handed them $100 cash for lunch and another envelope.

The instructions within led the Toga Stack to the library, where each of the eight pairs of underwear they found contained a hint of where a final clue might be stored.

By 3:15, the Toga Stackers were using sledgehammers to break open a column filled with cement and reinforced with steel bars. Inside, they knew, was the combination to the padlock on the seniors’ door.

“It’s the Pillar of Ignorance,” said sophomore Raj Patel. “We’re smashing it with the Hammers of Knowledge.”

It took the Toga Stack almost 45 minutes to break apart the column and excavate a duct-taped Tupperware container from within. Combination in hand, they raced upstairs. A cry went up as they opened the door.

The room was filled with Christmas lights, music and food--enough cheese, bread, candy and grapes, said Griswold, to make the whole day worthwhile.