This week’s Gentleman’s Time subject actually approached me instead of vice-versa. It all began some weeks ago with a mysterious email from “Ann Quinley.” Later that week, I received anonymous mail in my box, followed by another email. While bewildering, it was pleasant to have my weekly subject chosen in advance, especially by someone who declared that they enjoyed my column. The fine folks as The Student Life receive an awful lot of letters, but even remotely positive ones are few and far between.

This “someone” was Mufti, the secret organization on campus that is responsible for everything from cryptic messages pasted here and there to full on assaults of campus facilities. There have been a lot of rumors about Mufti as of late, and there was a mutual desire between both the organization and myself to set some things straight. They agreed to meet me one recent evening by the Peace Pole.

It turned out that I was not actually meeting the group at the Pole, but was instead sent on something of a wild goose chase searching for my actual subject. After a virtual promenade around the five colleges, I arrived tired and frustrated at a group of two individuals standing by a car in the Baxter parking lot. Mufti takes its secrecy very seriously, they admitted through their facemasks.

We were “going on a little trip.” The three of us got in a car and drove off toward Upland. The two of them were very candid in answering questions about the group, so long as no identities were divulged, and so long as I was unaware of what we were doing that evening. Were that the case, they told me, it would be “just plain no fun.”

I felt that the question that was on most people’s minds were how one becomes a member of the group, so I offered that question first. “We’re the best looking,” they laughed. After a few minutes of defending that they were all chosen for being the best looking students on campus, they admitted that most of them became members when an active member approached them, or when they caught the group in action. There are about 20 or so active members, but none of them are first-year students. “We have an eye on a few, but they’re so straight-laced,” the male member lamented. “They’re just so by the book, and that’s not exactly what we’re about.” There are a spackling of members from most other classes however, even rumors of active alumni, faculty, and staff that were hinted at but never fully affirmed.

The group “goes way back,” they assured me. Undeniable evidence of the group leads all the way back to the 1940’s, while slightly more shady evidence places the group’s roots somewhere over 80 years ago. I noted that grumblings around town were that the group was dead, due to a lack of visible activity. The two members insistently denied these claims, and assured me that they have been just as active as ever.

Most of Mufti’s prank activities were described with the fervor (and vocabulary) were strongly reminiscent of militant leaders. Pranks were “stings,” “operations,” or even “assaults.” For all this verbal saber rattling, I inquired as to why I had seen nary but a scare cryptic not this semester pasted to a phone box.

“The group made a decision about two years ago to be less destructive,” the female member of the group told me. “We have no beef with maintenance.” Most of the “beef” as it were, it with members in the administration and decisions they have made. Their last message involved tenure decisions, and one of their biggest victories was making certain that Reading Days were here to stay. There were discussions at faculty meetings about ridding the schedule of them, as professors were complaining that students were not using them constructively. At the very next meeting, after another of Mufti’s trademark statements made an appearance, the faculty decided to keep Reading Days because there seemed to be student opposition on campus. “We considered this a huge victory,” the male member asserted.

The group apparently causes more ruckus and draws more attention that was previously thought. The group asserts that their activities attract the most attention from the administration in that they witness most of their work. For example, Mufti executed a huge “strike” on Frank Dining Hall, which included altering the lights, marking every piece of silverware, pasting on windows and plates, but all of their work was removed by the start of breakfast the next day. “Breaking into Frank without anyone noticing and operating like this takes all night, so it was heartbreaking that no student really saw it.”

Mufti is tired of going so unnoticed. While both members confided that they thought that their shadow imitation groups were very humorous, they didn’t appreciate students not being aware that their mission of information and subversion had been continuing. They had played nice and tried not to damage anything, but their work was being removed too quickly for their statements to be made. Mufti was being forced to return to their more permanent and damaging days, and neither of these members seemed repentant about this change at all.

We arrived at Wal-Mart, where I was instructed to “Stay in the damn car.” They returned later with white shoe polish whose purpose could not be disclosed to me. We chatted lightly about other students they have pulled, like an effigy of Peter Stanley as a personal gift for Brenda Schmitt. Admittedly, all of the secrecy, intrigue, and mischief were entertaining. However, all of this excitement ended the next day when I planned on driving to the beach, as I instead was forced to wash my car. The shoe polish was used to deface my own automobile, much to Mufti’s chagrin, I assume. “Mufti lives,” it said.