Flip Klinger and his late wife, Julie, visit with PGA pro Zach Johnson at Elmcrest Golf Course in Cedar Rapids in 2011.

Telling It Like It Is: The legendary Flip Klinger chats about his Iowa days, Hawk football, golf


By Greg Miller (IABE ’86) 

Director and Chairman, Communications, Iowa Beta Alumni Association 

 

This is the second in a two-part series, "Telling It Like It Is," that takes a look at Iowa Beta legend Flip Klinger. 


If you ever run into Phillip D. “Flip” Klinger (IABE ’64) you may want to pour yourself a tall one, because he has an endless supply of great stories. Just sit down, get comfortable and let him go.


As I interviewed him for the alumni association newsletter, I definitely wanted to hear about some of the highlights of his days living in the SAE house.


Klinger served as pledge trainer one semester and in his last semester, was elected Eminent Archon. In those days, the EAs were elected every semester.

 

“Did you like the job?” I asked.

 

“No, it was a pain in the ass,” Klinger said. “You couldn’t drink in the house or anything else. You had to be nice and diplomatic. And I am not saying who, but when I was Eminent Archon we’d be sitting there and I’d say, ‘It’s cold outside right now and we don’t want to get out and buy beer, so let’s go see who is drinkin’. So we would wander about the halls and if we found someone had a six-pack, we’d confiscate it.

 

“I would say, ‘there is no drinking in the house and I am the Eminent Archon and I am taking it from you.’ Then my co-enforcer would go down to my room and we would sit and drink it. Who’s going to do anything about it?”

As new initiates in late March 1961, Klinger and his comrades, Ed Spence (IABE ’63), John McSwaney (IABE '64) and two others decided to go see a movie, Where the Boys Are, the week before Easter. The plot involves four very different college girls who drive to Fort Lauderdale, Fla. for spring break to seek out various adventures and romance for themselves. When Klinger and his buds strolled out of the movie house at 3 p.m. they were so inspired that nine hours later at midnight, they took off to Florida.

 

“I had a paper that was due and we all got our work turned in and we piled in Ed (nickname “Runt”) Spence’s car and drove without stopping to Fort Lauderdale,” Klinger said.

 

(If you want to take a look at Google maps, you will see that Fort Lauderdale is about 1,454 miles from Iowa City.)

Floyd Patterson lies on the canvas after taking a knockout blow from Ingemar Johansson, of Sweden, in the third round of their heavyweight title match in Yankee Stadium. Johansson's win stunned the boxing world.

“So we get there, I guess it was mid morning a day later and we are standing outside of this restaurant and we get to talking to this guy,” Klinger recalled. “And there was a great big guy standing next to him and we hadn’t the slightest idea who he was. All of a sudden, we find out the big guy was Ingemar Johansson.”

 

In 1959 Johansson defeated Floyd Patterson by TKO in the third round, after flooring Patterson seven times in that round, to win the World Heavyweight Championship.

“Johansson took us all inside and bought us breakfast,” Klinger said. “We didn’t have any money. I got a postcard in the restaurant, had Johansson sign it and I sent it home to my folks.


"On it I wrote, 'Here is a post card signed by Ingemar Johansson and, oh by the way, I won't be home for Easter because I am in Florida!' We were down there for many days and all we had was about $50 apiece – and that included gas money. We had to sleep on the beach mostly and yeah, we slept in jail one night. It was a hoot.” 


The tomfoolery did not stop there. Back in Iowa City, if there was mischief afoot, you can bet Klinger was in the middle of it.

   

“The Phi Gam house was right behind us,” he recalled. “And if you sit there in the SAE house in the solarium and look at their house, they had a big picture window that faced us. Well, there was a similar window in front of their house. So, oh, I dunno, a couple three times I was in Iowa City, late at night we would round up all the garbage cans we could and put them out behind that back window. We’d fill them with paper, douse some gas on there and toss a light to it. Then we’d call the fire department and tell them the Phi Gam house was on fire.


"And of course the fire trucks and police cars would come flying up that hill and look in the front window and freak out as they would see that there were flames going high in there someplace. The firemen would go charging through the front door with a fire hose. And good thing they would figure out before they turned on the hoses that the flames were coming from outside the back window!"


“Did they catch on that it was you guys setting the blaze?” I asked.

 

“They suspected, but they couldn’t prove it. They kind of figured it had to be us.”

The Delta Upsilon house at the University of Iowa in 1980.

But of course, the shenanigans didn’t stop there.

 

“Across from the Phi Gams were the DUs,” he said. “So we would steal the Phi Gam’s hose. And for some reason, they always had a hose hooked up to a spigot during the spring and fall. And every now and then, around two in the morning, we’d drag that hose over to the DU house and hook it up to the DU spigot. Then we’d take the hose through the front door, lay it into the living room, turn it on and walk away. And they’d not find out about it until the next morning. Yeah, we used to have fun. It was a different world.”

The footbridge at the University of Iowa.

Klinger said that it was amazing how people survived living in the Chapter House during those days.

 

“Oh man, you wiped your feet on the way out of the House!”

 

He continued, “I remember one fall my dad came down and said, ‘I can’t believe this, g-- dammit, I am paying for you to live in this place?! If this is all I gave you at home, you’d leave.’ And he was right, at times it was a dump. And yeah, this was 1960. But you don’t even realize how slovenly you are living. You are in college and you are the king of the world.”

 

Klinger said serenading and singing were a big part of the fabric and culture.

 

“Most guys did not have cars,” he said. “You walked. Whether it was the middle of winter or whatever, you walked back and forth across that footbridge over the river. And we were the singing fraternity.

“The men would sing every night at dinner. You sang grace before the meal and the house mother was there, a woman named Mom Anuson.

One of the most famous food fights ever occured in the movie, "Animal House," starring John Belushi.

“She was hoot because she had one ear that could not hear very well,” he said, “And we would always say, ‘hey mom, we’re having a big party tonight upstairs so you better have your bad ear up.’

 

“And we would play bridge with her at night because there was always a bridge game going on in Mom’s room.

 

“She ate dinner with us every night except one each semester. We’d say, ‘Hey mom, maybe you ought to go out to dinner with some of the other house mothers tonight because tonight is ‘Rowdy Night.’ (This is a watered-down term for a food fight.) And I worked on the board crew and we could pick a night unbeknownst to anyone when food fight night was going to be.

 

“So instead of coming out and serving the brothers their dinners, we’d come out and just throw it at them. And this really pissed off the pledges because they had to wear coat and ties every night for dinner. And our favorite was mashed potatoes because you can hurl them a long way!”

On Friday nights, actives would play cards while the pledges would clean the house.

The Ritual with robes was executed on regular basis and it was required that everyone memorized basic facts, The True Gentleman and songs.

 

“That was part of pledge training,” said Klinger. “We had a pledge class that met every Monday night. And there were work sessions every Friday night. In those days, guys had to hustle the girls home to be in the dorm by curfew. On Friday nights, the pledges had to race back to the SAE house by 12:30 a.m. to clean it top-to-bottom. While they cleaned, the actives would leisurely sit in the solarium and play cards. And this is when we’d quiz the pledges on what they had been studying.”

 

And God forbid if someone asked you what time it was. According to Flip, the proper and correct response was as follows:

 

Sir, I am greatly embarrassed and deeply humiliated.

Due to circumstances beyond my control, the inner workings and hidden mechanisms of my chronometer are in such in accord with the great sidereal movement.

Therefore I cannot with any degree of accuracy state the correct time. But I do predict the exact time to be…

 

“Oh yeah, we had to say stuff like that and if you screwed it up, especially during Hell Week, it was all over. They had to come up with weird stuff like that because they knew we had the Greek alphabet memorized forwards and backwards for months.”

There’s no doubt the SAEs enjoyed a lot more freedom and less regulation in the early 1960s and like all young men, they had their sights set on the ladies.

 

“In the warmer months, we’d would go up to the third-floor penthouse up there we’d have a large telescope and we’d point it across the river and watch the girls sunbathe on the top of Currier Hall,” he said. “And if it really got good, we’d take our equipment up to the roof.”

One of Klinger’s passions is to hit the links and participate in all that ensues thereafter.

 

“I am the world’s worst golfer,” he explained. “To me golf is the three to four-and-a-half hours of shit you have to go through to get to a cocktail. And golf is great when you are married because if you said to your wife while at work, ‘honey, I am taking the afternoon off to go drinking in a bar,’ she’s be pissed. But if you tell her I am going to go and play golf with some of the guys this afternoon and have a cocktail afterward, she wouldn’t say a word other than ‘OK, that’s fine, have fun!’ ”

 

Klinger belongs to Elmcrest Country Club in Cedar Rapids, which is one of the best-kept courses in the state of Iowa and home to PGA veteran and Master’s winner Zach Johnson. Klinger represented Johnson and wrote his professional contract. He plays golf with his father, Dave, twice a week year round. 

Indoor golf simulators provide a way to get in a round during uncooperative weather.

“Golf, year round? In freezing Iowa? How in the heck do you do that?” I asked.

 

“We have computer simulators where you can play inside in the winter time,” Klinger said. “I played ‘Pebble Beach’ last week. But what else are you going to do around here? It is colder than hell in the winter, no mountains within a thousand miles. There’s no skiing. It’s hotter than hell in the summer and there’s no water. There’s no big lakes around here. You have to go to the lakes of the Ozarks for big water or up to the Great Lakes in Minnesota.”

 

To get in this amount of golf, there has to be a plan and rules.

“We just hired a receptionist three months ago and I said, ‘look, you might as well know, every Wednesday and Friday I have a 1 p.m. tee time. So you make no appointments for me after 10:30 in the morning on those two days without my permission. If you do make an appointment for me during those times, you’re fired and the last thing you do before you leave is to call the person and cancel the appointment.”

Julie Klinger

Having lived with Iowa football greats, Klinger is a die-hard Hawkeye football fan.

 

“I had season tickets from 1960 to 1999,” he said. “Julie (his wife) got sick and she could not take it.”

 

Julie, who died in March a year ago, was a 15-year, third-stage pancreatic cancer survivor. She was diagnosed with the disease in the winter of 1998. She underwent 25 radiation treatments at the Iowa City Hospitals and in Flip’s terms, “was tethered to a chemo drip” in the hospital for two weeks.

 

“They gave her four to six months,” Klinger said. “But she was the type who thought that was just not good enough. There was only one Julie.”

 

Julie, who was a stockbroker at Morgan Stanley, ended up at the Mayo Clinic where she was one of the first to undergo the new intraoperative radiation treatments where the medical staff would cap the tumor and radiate it.

 

“We knew for 15 years we were on borrowed time and she worked all the way through it,” he said.“She was her own person and took no shit from anybody. But we quit going to football games because she could no longer tolerate the day-long experience.”

 

And the Klinger home football game ritual is not for the faint of heart.

“I’d get up in the morning and make a pitcher of Bloody Marys,” he said. “I’d

drink them through a straw while I was in the shower and getting ready. And bloodys would flow until we got into the vehicle and then we’d all drink beer on the way down to Iowa City. At the tailgate, there would be more beer and wine. Depending on how cold it is, we’d carry either a bottle of bourbon or brandy inside the stadium.

 

“And God, I had great seats for 25 years. We were at the top of tunnel at the 5-yard line. It was fantastic because there was no one in front of us.

 

“And the first year I got those six seats, the three guys are sitting there having cocktails with the three women when all of a sudden the damn security people came up and took our booze away. Well, that kind of pissed us off. So we are sitting there and we got a bunch of ice cubes, so we start throwing them down on the security people.

 

“And they came to us and said, ‘hey you can’t do that.’ And we said, ‘well look, it’s going to be a long season and you came up here and took our drinks and we got to have some fun. And you can’t get on me for spilling ice, I mean my glass just accidentally tipped over…I can’t help that.’ ”

The security people sensed what they were in for and told Klinger’s party that the way they knew they had alcohol is because there is a spotter in the press box who radios the security people.

 

So the sly Klinger, worked out a solution. He proposed that his party buy plastic Hawkeye cups and keep the booze down by their feet. The security people said if that scenario occurred, the spotter would not be able to catch on and he would not radio them to enforce. So for the next 24 years, cup-and-low-pour protocol became institutionalized.

 

“But you got to remember, we did this 12-hour ritual before football games were on TV,” Klinger said. “Now my friends ask me, ‘are you going to the game?’ And I say, ‘why would I want to go to the football game?

“First, I can watch the game on my big screen TV. I got instant replay and pause functions. I am in my comfortable chair. I am can see my refrigerator full of beer and booze and I am first in line at the pisser. Why would I want to go down there? My wife would make me any kind of hors d’oeuvre hot off the stove. And if I wanted to smoke, I could just make a quick step outside. Hell in Iowa City, they are trying to ban smoking in the parking lot!”


Through all the years, Klinger has always gone back for seconds at the bountiful feast life has to offer. SAE helped him enjoy that harvest.

“Hell, I wouldn’t have known how to set a table if I did not have the fraternity experience,” he said. “And it doesn’t sound like much. But hey, when you sit down to a fine meal, you know what all the forks are for and that you are to use the utensils from the outside and work toward the plate. You don’t feel embarrassed because you know what you are doing. You know the proper way to hold your fork and feed yourself.

 

“SAE taught you how to give someone a firm handshake and look them in the eye.

 

College gives you knowledge but SAE gave me the people and social skills to maneuver properly in society,” he said. “SAE taught me manners and how to engage people. It gave you an opportunity to break out of your shyness so you can speak and act with confidence. But most of all, SAE teaches you how to be a gentleman. It gives you the blueprint of the inner workings and mechanisms of how to be a man; how to be responsible and accountable.

 

“In SAE, you make friends for life.”

Iowa Beta Alumni Association elects three additional Directors at its March 2015 meeting

The Iowa Beta Alumni Association proudly announces that three new additional board members have been elected. Longtime Director Bill Hayes (IABE '92) retired from the board after serving for nine years, creating an opening on the Board that was publicy announced last month.


Three brothers volunteered to fill the vacancy, prompting the Board of Directors to amend its bylaws to allow for all three to join the alumni association's governing body, given their outstanding talent and commitment to the fraternity.

Tom Halterman, a native of West Des Moines, currently serves as the Des Moines-area chairman for the Iowa Beta Alumni Association and has been an Ex Officio member on its board for nearly two years. He now joins as a full Director.


Halterman has been very active with the alumni association, organizing events, recruiting members and supporting its programs and initiatives.  


In addition, Halterman is the vice president of the Polk County I-Club for the University of Iowa. As an undergrad, Halterman served the Iowa Beta chapter in many roles including two very successful terms as Eminent Archon. He has the distinction of serving as EA for the second-longest tenure of any president since the Chapter's re-founding in 1982.


Halterman is the founder and CEO of Des Moines-based Outcomes MTM, the nation's leader in the design, delivery and administration of Medication Therapy Management programs.

Matt Miller hails from West Des Moines and now lives in Kansas City, where he is a solutions architect for Cerner Corporation, a leading provider of information technology to health care providers. Miller commutes to cities on the east coast each week where he manages teams of people implementing electronic medical records solutions.


Miller served the Iowa Beta chapter in many capacities during his collegiate years, including scholarship chairman and Eminent Archon. During Miller's tenure in office as EA, the chapter saw strong improvement in all key metrics. Because of his ability to identify issues and solve problems with practical solutions achieving measurable results, Miller is widely regarded as one of the stronger EAs of the recent era.


Miller has been very active in the Iowa Beta Alumni Association, recruiting several members and finding career opportunities for a number of recent Iowa Beta graduates.  

Brian Vasquez hails from the Chicago area and currently resides in Palatine, IL. Vasquez is the agency sales representative for Par Logistics, one of the nation's largest minority-owned transportation and logistics companies, which is headquartered in nearby Schaumburg.  The company provides high quality customized transportation solutions and supply chain delivery ranging from standard truckload to hot-shot services to air cargo.


As an undergrad, Vasquez was very involved in the Chapter and served on numerous committees. Additionally, he served as Eminent Recorder as a sophomore and was an outstanding Social Chairman during his junior year.  


Vasquez has been very active with the Iowa Beta Alumni Association, helping recruit members, support programs and initiatives and attend various events.  Additionally, he created internship and career opportunities for Iowa Beta brothers at his firm.

The three new Directors will join current Board Members Randy Iskowitz (IABE '88), Brian Kingery (IABE '91), Brian McKenzie (IABE '08), Greg Miller (IABE '86), Marc Rosenow (IABE '86), and Bill Stelter (IABE '88).  Additionally, they will serve along side Ex Officio members John Ressler (IABE '99), Don Souhrada (IABE '93) and Bill Vipond (IABE '86). Flip Klinger (IABE '64) serves as the Registered Agent. 


"We could not be more excited that these three Brother Heroes have been elected to our Board," said Rosenow, president of the Iowa Beta Alumni Association. "They bring tremendous enthusiasm and new perspectives that will continue to strengthen one of the finest alumni organizations in the SAE realm."

"Violet" is a song that is traditionally sung at serenades.

QUIZ ANSWER:  The lyrics of Violet

In 1910, the fraternity song Violet was written by the team of Harold V. Hill (Illinois 1911) and Howard R. "Hod" Green (Illinois 1911).  At the time, these men were college students and SAE fraternity brothers at the Illinois Beta chapter. They also composed Hail to the Purple! Hail to the Gold!, which they wrote for the fraternity but repurposed the song for the University of Illinois, where it may be better known as Hail to the Orange! Hail to the Blue! to most Illini fans.


Singing was big part of college life in those days, but many songs were written so the student with an untrained musical voice could not sing them properly.  Violet came about as a musical collaboration "for the man with the one-octave range."  


The song was written in one hour, with Hill creating a melody at the piano to which Green set the words. It became an instant hit with the Illinois Beta chapter. 


Upon a visit to Illinois and hearing the song performed by several of the men, William C. "Billy" Levere (Northwestern 1898) asked to publish the song in the latest version of the fraternity's songbook and it soon became one of the most beloved of all the SAE songs.  

Violet

Wherever you may go

There are flowers that you know

The fragrant lilacs, red rose,

Or Gardenia white as snow.

Each flower may bring a dream to you

As one flower does to me,

A dream of friendship firm and strong

In my Fraternity.


Chorus

Violet, Violet

You're the fairest flower to me.

Violet, Violet

Emblem of fraternity.

With your perfume memories come

Of Sigma Alpha Epsilon

Dearest flow'r beneath the sun,

My Violet