I haven't thought of Speedo in years. And what a temper he had! In our junior or senior year, I was living in the Warren wing. Someone living nearby had somehow aroused my anger. It was either Sam Moorer, Hardy Meade, Charlie Red, Lanning , Dik-Dik, or Denny the piano player -- last name forgotten. It was mid afternoon and I began to yell a stream of obsenities at the top of my lungs that went on and on. Not only did my words echo around the dorm circle, people in Alabaster could have heard them. Suddenly, at my door, Speedo's face appeared. He was livid and proceeded to give me the chewing out I so rightly deserved. My ears are still red -- sort of.
Of course, when we were in school he was probably only about 30 years old. But we thought teachers knew it all. He showed me once how untrue that was. Speedo suggested that when we write a short story, we would be more prone to write well if we based it on an event in life that we had really experienced. So I did just that. I wrote about an actual event that I had experienced and handed the paper in to Mr. Warren. A few days later, he called me into his office. Again he began to berate me. He wanted to know where I had heard such garbage. He said that he had never read about something like that and that he was disappointed that I would make up such a tale. I told him it was true, and he told me to get out of his office. He then gave me a "F" on the paper. Frankly, the paper was quite good if I do say so.
I remembered wondering what monastery he was raised in!