The story of Albert Patrick is most certainly one that belongs in the history books of every eighth grader in this great nation—not because it’s very important but because it perfectly encapsulates the true nature of America. It’s a story of crooked Jewish
lawyers paying scumbag
valets to poison the living shit out of rich white men. It’s a story of heavily racist trials and the crooked American judicial system that, at the same time, points out how American privilege can get you out of any sticky situation. It’s a story of a prestigious American university teetering in the balance between the forces of good, evil, and something in between.
Basically William Marsh Rice
was this rich white guy who amassed a fortune (probably clubbing seals and black people with his famed pimp cane). Towards the end of his life he became so worthless and decrepit that his hooknosed lawyer, Albert Patrick, hatched a pretty awful scheme to make off with Rice’s fortune. The idea was to alter Rice’s will which, at the time, earmarked his entire estate to the creation of a educational institution in Houston, Texas, that would teach young white males to club seals and African Americans. Allegedly Patrick asked Rice’s valet to pull a Sixth Sense and poison Rice slowly and surely. The slowly and surely thing didn’t work out so the valet just sort of chloroformed Rice to death one night. Smooth move.
A trial ensued thanks to that meddling Captain James Baker. Basically, it was a slam-dunk trial against a Jew in early 1900’s New York, dooming Patrick from the start. It was also one of the most publicized trials of the century, up until the OJ Simpson case. Apparently, America loves ethnicities committing atrocities. AP got his parole opportunity several years later, got the charges against him dropped, after which he moved to the inland United States and—I’m not making this shit up—helped to found a church.
Fast forward and Rice University
is now standing. There’s a residential college—Will Rice College
—and there’s a new dorm section that actually points away from the main quad. We’re going to call that the 80’s and the 90’s These rooms are also known as Albert Patrick College, so I’m told but God knows whose idea that was. Traditionally these rooms “break off” from WRC at some point during the spring and throw a party.
Hey, there's a party at Albert Patrick College. Let's get drunk!