My Old House: 123 Evanston

When Matt Joseph ’94 first stepped onto the wide front porch of 123 Evanston Ave., the house was showing every bit of its age. The paint was peeling, the floorboards were rough, so the landlord, Mrs. Chandler, had a proposition: “If you paint the porch, you can live here for the summer for free.”

For a rising senior working two summer jobs, the deal was a no-brainer. Joseph spent the next month or so sanding, scraping, masking edges and laying down coats of red and gray paint that may still cling to the boards today.

“It took most of the summer,” he said. “I only had a couple hours a day to work on it, but it was worth it. I got my free rent.”

That porch — the same one where he and his four housemates gathered and grilled hot dogs, even in the dead of winter — became the heart of his senior year.

Three of the five were members of Epsilon Delta Tau, and the house often served as the overflow home for the fraternity. Joseph, an English major, wasn’t a member of Epsilon Delta Tau himself, but he was welcomed as a sort of honorary member — and so was his friend Jamie Happ ’94, who technically lived on K Street but was at 123 Evanston so often that the housemates added his name to their message board by the landline phone.

“People would call and ask for him,” Joseph said. “They just assumed he lived here.”

For a house of five 21- and 22-year-old men — and their friends who wandered in and out — 123 Evanston was surprisingly tidy. At least by their standards.

“We thought it looked pretty good,” Joseph said. “Then our moms came for our joint graduation party and were aghast. They spent the first couple hours cleaning.”

The house also had its share of near-disasters.

One involved a bunk bed and Brian Knapke ’94, a 250-pound former high school football lineman who insisted on sleeping on the top bunk. “You can see where this is going,” Joseph laughed.

One night, the entire top bunk collapsed onto the bottom bunk — where Matt Bold ’94, another roommate, was reading. Miraculously, the wooden frame wedged itself just right, preventing injury.

“It could have killed him,” Joseph said. “But he didn’t even get a scratch. We still laugh in amazement about it to this day.”

At some point, the housemates discovered all their CD racks were empty, save for a Chilean folk album Joseph had brought home from a mission trip, and a few others that must have been considered unsalable.

“The thief was picky,” he laughed. “They left the ones they didn’t want.”

The loss of his Van Halen, Def Leppard and Bryan Adams albums still stings to this day.

 The loss of his Van Halen, Def Leppard and Bryan Adams albums still stings to this day.

But the year wasn’t defined by what disappeared; it was defined by the memories created together that made the house feel like home. One of Joseph’s favorite memories came from a year when UD canceled Homecoming. The housemates decided that they wouldn’t miss out.

“So, we hosted our own,” he said.

They held drinks and hors d’oeuvres at 123 Evanston, dressed up, invited dates and had dinner at Spaghetti Warehouse downtown. Then they moved the dance to Happ’s official house on K Street, where there was more room for music and dancing. They even crowned a king and queen.

Before moving to the student neighborhood, Joseph spent two years as a resident assistant in Stuart Hall and Campus South. “I learned a lot about leadership,” he said. But senior year, he wanted something different — a taste of independence without losing the support of community. Living in the neighborhood offered exactly that.

“It’s a good halfway step to reality. If something goes wrong, there’s someone you can call. But you also learn to take care of things yourself — the food, the house, the scary basement, the fuse box.”

“It’s a good halfway step to reality,” he said. “If something goes wrong, there’s someone you can call. But you also learn to take care of things yourself — the food, the house, the scary basement, the fuse box.”

And the friendships lasted. One neighbor from next door later became part of Joseph’s friend group when both moved to Washington, D.C., after graduation. Happ’s daughter toured UD recently, and when they stopped by 123 Evanston, the current residents welcomed them inside just as Joseph once welcomed alumni before him.

More than 30 years later, Joseph still returns to 123 Evanston — sometimes with friends, sometimes with future Flyers, sometimes just to stand on the porch he painted as a student. He’s quick to note that he’s always welcomed back with open arms.

“That’s the ideal of how neighbors should be. Kind, welcoming, generous. UD teaches you that.”

ILLUSTRATION BY KEVIN M. JOHNSON

A version of this article appears in print in the Summer 2026 University of Dayton Magazine, Page 30. EXPLORE THE ISSUE — MORE ONLINE