Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, January 21, 1993 TAG: 9301210062
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: B1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: DWAYNE YANCEY STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LEXINGTON LENGTH: Medium
VMI HAILS, ANYWAY
Once more, Virginia Military Institute cadets stood their ground in the face of a Lost Cause.So what if President Clinton's inaugural committee could squeeze a gaggle of Elvis impersonators and a lawn-chair drill team into the inaugural parade, but couldn't find room for the VMI cadets to make their traditional march down Pennsylvania Avenue?
VMI is not a place that sounds the retreat, even in the face of a rebuff that stings as bad as any encounter on the field of battle.
After all, the corps of cadets takes its spiritual direction from the bronze gaze of Stonewall Jackson out by the drill field, his immortal words before the Battle of Chancellorsville inscribed in a plaque by the base of the statue:
"The Institute will be heard from today."
And so it was, if not by the new president, then at least by the small knot of onlookers who gathered Wednesday on the sidewalk outside Jackson Hall.
Denied entry to the inaugural parade for the first time since World War II, cadets staged their own ceremony to mark the ascension of a new commander-in-chief.
At precisely five minutes past the stroke of high noon Wednesday, about the time Clinton was lifting his hand off the Bible, the long gray line of cadets closed ranks and snapped to attention outside the barracks.
The band struck up "Hail to the Chief."
And Superintendent John Knapp said a few words.
Emphasis on few.
He called the swearing-in taking place 190 miles away in Washington "another mark of the blessing of living in and being able to serve a democracy." He alluded to the start of a new semester as a natural time "we should make a renewal, a rededication."
Then he commanded the cadets to "stand fast when I read extracts from General Orders No. 39," specifically the one erasing all "penalty tours and confinements," a traditional dispensation granted on momentous occasions in the life of VMI.
And that was it.
The cadets were dismissed. Once at ease, they sent up a lusty cheer to celebrate, although one suspects their own clean slate took precedence over the arrival of a new administration.
Officially at least, VMI took a stoic approach to being relegated to this brief hometown ceremony instead of marching grandly through the nation's capital. More to the point, no one wanted to talk about what many of them suspected, namely that the court case over the school's male-only admission policy makes VMI politically incorrect for an administration that has pledged to "look like America."
"We're good soldiers," Knapp said, philosophically. "Those serve who only stand and wait, if you know your Milton."
The cadets, most of them anyway, took their cue from their superintendent.
So is this ceremony a way to get back at the inaugural committee?
"It's a way to honor the new president," said saxophone player Anthony Martin.
So what do you think of Clinton, anyway?
"He's our commander-in-chief and I support him," said Barry Morris, cradling his French horn.
But a few hardy souls showed that, besides honor and respect for authority, there's another old Southern tradition that still lives on at VMI - a fighting spirit.
"I think," declared drummer Chris Noe, "it's a shame we didn't get to go."
"I guess," groused fellow cadet Matt Gill, "we just didn't fit the theme."