So, here's the story: There was this one time when a group of frat guys decided to haze their pledges. Things got a little out of hand, to say the least, and one pledge died. Instead of picking up the rotary phone to call the police, they told the remaining pledges to write down the events of the night in their pledge books. Sworn to secrecy, the pledges were told to burn their pledge books and nail them to the wall of the room where their "brother" died. No one could, like, know what happened that night. Ever. Their biggest mistake (besides committing manslaughter) may have been in not researching the history of the frat house. If they'd have known that, according to lore, it was once the site of a hospital where patients still wander the halls, then they might have splurged on a place with some Corinthian columns and a sand volleyball court. But we'll never know, because in 2007 some douche bag set the place on fire. What's left of the site is privately owned.
