I’ve mentioned Steve and Allen a few times, in that I moved to Mifflin Hall my second year at Penn State because that’s where they were living, so I really ought to say a few words about them.

I first encountered Steve Sattazahn when he was one of the pianists at an elementary school chorus program that my uncle Curtis put together. I mentioned him briefly in this post.

But I really didn’t get to know Steve until we were both in high school at Elco (Eastern Lebanon County) as he lived in Schaefferstown and I was in Richland.

That’s his high school graduation picture.

Steve had a sunny disposition and was always fun to be around, although in high school he and I had only a casual relationship. Someone once described to me that one could put the people that one knew into a series of concentric circles with the people closest to you inhabiting the smallest circle. Using that metaphor, Steve would have been in the next circle, acquaintances, people that I knew and liked but didn’t necessarily hang out with very often.

Steve was a superb pianist, far better than I ever was, but I don’t think he ever did very much with that talent. Like me, he had an interest in the theater, and after we got to know each other better (the first year at Penn State I used to visit Steve and Allen occasionally at Mifflin Hall), he and I attended a few plays at Green Hills in the summer.

Then there’s Allen Maurer. 

He was the yin to Steve’s yang (or maybe vice versa). I think Allen was born grumpy. That graduation picture is the closest he ever came to smiling. At least in all the time that I knew him. He had a perpetually dour disposition, and how he and Steve got along is one of the great mysteries of life.

He was also in my second circle during high school and I had even less contact with him than I did with Steve, so I probably didn’t notice his sour mood, but it became all too apparent when he was rooming with the perpetually sunny Steve in Mifflin Hall.

From what I could tell, about the only thing those two guys had in common was their religion, but, thank goodness, they weren’t obnoxious about it. Unlike their friend Herbie, whom I’ve written about previously, who was a fundamentalist Jesus freak.

Anyway, my first year at Penn State I lived in East Halls, and while I got along fine with my roommate, he joined a fraternity, so I was in need of a new roommate for my second year. The obvious candidate was Mike Carr, but he had a friend from back home who was coming the following year and they had long planned to room together. Given that I really didn’t care for the walk to classes across the frigid parking lot from East Halls in cold weather, I decided to opt for the somewhat more centrally located Mifflin Hall where Steve and Allen were living, so that’s what I requested.

And I ended up with the roommate from hell.

Until by a fortuitous sequence of events I managed to transfer to Jeff on the fifth floor. Which is where Steve and Allen lived.

As I’ve already described the pinochle games that I played with Steve and Allen, et al., I think that pretty much covers what needs to be said.