Although the prevailing religious attitude at TESC during the early years was one of secular humanism, there were some groups on campus that made their presence known. There was a Breatharian who visited the school every once in awhile, spreading the word that food was not really necessary in order to live. The Moonies made sweeps in the early years, and took away one of my friends, Alison. Before Heaven's Gate (the suicide cult that hitched a ride on Hale-Bopp in 1997) was given that name, they were known as followers of "The Two." They came through Olympia ca. 1975 and seemed surprisingly calm and normal looking. SGI/Nichiren Buddhism appeared to have a big following on campus during this era.

Occasionally generic street corner Christian evangelists would show up and start spreading the Good Word right in front of the CAB. They liked to pick nice, sunny days. As we all know, days like that are at a premium during the school year and such spiritual shouting would get annoying. On one such day a very earnest man was waving a Bible around and proclaiming, "There is no question this book can't answer!" And some smartass student yelled out, "What's the capital city of South Dakota?" And the poor guy actually tried to answer it before realizing it didn't really matter. Come to think of it, I might have been the student who shouted the question.

This evangelist had the misfortune to plant himself next to a table where a student was selling t-shirts for KAOS-FM. And the KAOS kid had a real knack for taking advantage of the situation and feeding off the sermons. The preacher would proclaim, "You are all going to Hell!" "And while on your way," the KAOS seller would add, "Wear a KAOS t-shirt!" But finally, all fun things had to come an end. TESC Security showed up, stopped the speaker, and the officer addressed the crowd. He told us he had several complaints about this preacher disturbing a nice, sunny day. But he left the decision up to the students, thumbs up, or, thumbs down? Shades of ancient Rome! I was a thumbs up, since I enjoyed the entertainment, but I was in the tiny minority. So everyone was happy. The preacher could claim civil martyrdom and students finally got some peace.

There were two other preachers of that time period that come to mind. I never knew if he made it to Evergreen or not, but there was a very good evangelist who visited schools up and down the West Coast in the 1970s named Holy Hubert (he died a couple years ago). This guy was a real pro and a joy to watch. He was so good and could hold his own so well that nonbelieving students considered it a major achievement to tongue-tie him. And it happened once in awhile. I saw him a few times at the UW, and maybe even at UC Berkeley when I visited down there. Seeing him at TESC would've been a real treat. The other "preacher" of the 1970s was the Rev. Chumleigh, who was a Reverend in name only. In truth he was an alternative Vaudevillian and a regular visitor on campus.

There is one religious movement that bears a very special mention. During the 1974-75 school year, forces greater than any human created the Jobbo Bonobo cult. I had the privilege of witnessing the spontaneous birth of this short-lived but colorful movement. Jobbo Bonobo was the name of a cartoon character with a limited audience. He was a seedy clown. One of my friends was pacing in the kitchen on the 3rd floor of A Dorm and attempting to sort out a personal problem. Whenever it popped in his head, he would say, for no apparent reason, "Jobbo Bonobo." Perhaps it was the musical quality of the name. Maybe he was speaking in tongues. Whatever his problem was (and I never learned the source of his stress), he sure said "Jobbo Bonobo" a lot.

It was perhaps after the tenth utterance of that name that a vision appeared in the doorway. It seemed then, and does in hindsight, like a miracle had taken place. There, with facepaint, a big red nose, a garish wig, and a funny suit with polka dots, stood a real clown. Jobbo Bonobo in the flesh. However, in truth, we knew this was a fellow student who shares a name with a famous poet. She later became a respected educator. Why she was garbed like that and chose to arrive at that point in time is a mystery to me. I'm sure she had no idea what she had walked into.

So, a small group of us carried her in a chair to the common courtyard, where a larger group formed a circle around her and proclaimed, "All hail Jobbo Bonobo!" I think the phrase, "Jobbo is everything and nothing!" originated there as well. For the rest of the school year, the Jobbo cult grew as sort of a Dada movement.

I dropped out in the 1975-76 school year, but one day I came back to campus to visit. A complete stranger approached me and asked, "Have you heard the word of Jobbo?"

Frightening.