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(01/21/14 2:49pm)
Our children are the future. So is an impending debt crisis that requires chokehold austerity measures, according to Congress, advocacy groups, big-government antagonists and everyone’s grandma. That last member of the fiscal phalanx is no joke.
As post-2008 recession America points to class warfare between the wealthy and the poor as our chief economic priority, that assumption belies an even deadlier reality: our generation has been given short shrift in favor of the elderly. Ironic for a nation that pretends to invest in future generations, today’s Facebook youths receive less government spending than the oldest Americans — not by dollar decimal points, but in the thousands per capita. And as social welfare programs are called out by belt-tightening conservatives around the country, it’s the safety nets supporting young and underprivileged kids, let alone the money they’ll need in the future, that get the axe first.
The concept of having your financial stability pickpocketed from you at this very moment might seem abstract. But it should mean something to you. If it doesn’t, we’re screwed.
2014 is not the intergenerational environment of 30 years ago. The Baby Boomers are finally retiring with gusto — the Pew Research Center estimates that about 10,000 geezers hit 65 each day, meaning our retirement population will approximately double by 2050. That’s a 100 percent growth. At the same rate, the working population — us, if a reminder is necessary — will only increase by 17 percent. The imbalance resembles an epileptic seesaw holding the young and old of American society on either end, your Social Security, Medicare and general array of entitlements then being flung far out of reach. Be mindful in the meantime that you’ve been paying into these programs as young, working adults. If these trends continue unabated, that money you’ve pumped into the system is likely never coming back to you.
Even if you’re privileged enough to come out with only minor scratches, plenty of your peers won’t be so lucky. Consider deep education cuts being made across the country. Consider poorer school districts and urban areas having to scrap their Head Start programs due to insufficient funding, the subsequent widening in income gaps and social advantages, even the more fortunate kids being inescapably tied down by rising student debt. Consider the grossly disproportionate $12,164 spent on children in 2008 with the $27,117 spent on retirees of the same year, according to the Urban Institute. Something’s not right here. Perhaps we could cut some more from the leaching kids in Detroit.
The fact that our generation isn’t mobilized doesn’t help. We have no central lobbying core — no AARP to protect our interests. We are not considered a crotchety voting demographic that requires keen political pandering, if our generation chooses to vote at all. Instead, the paradoxically childlike adults that run Congress hold our future checkbook, and our relationship is akin to asking for an allowance — Congress dictates the terms and we suffer the consequences.
But we don’t have to. Attend a speech on the tour of superstar investor and youth-advocate Stanley Druckenmiller and consider the inevitable: that unless this generation voices their opposition now, we accept a future that fiscally bleeds us dry, handed down to us so callously by Generation X. If Druckenmiller’s free-love generation could scale back America’s involvement in the Vietnam War, it’s embarrassing that we can only muster a protest for Facebook interface changes.
This is not a plea to wage war on grandma. We’re a society that takes care of our own. What we’re not is a hypocrite going belly up on our promises to provide for both our retirees and our kids — that’s not a choice we have to make. But at present, we’ve been too docile to notice. Congress has been protecting the interests of kids by teaching them to carry the burden of their ancestor’s blunders. Well, the kids grew up, but we can’t carry the load alone.
(12/04/13 6:50pm)
Brazen novelist and short story writer Adam Levin read to the College from his newest collection of short stories, “Hot Pink,” on Wednesday, Nov. 20.
While ambitious in its operatic scope, Levin’s work is tangled up in its own cleverness, trying to sew up all the postmodern limbs it can find and animate a Frankenstein’s monster of storytelling to life.
Both Levin’s fictional work and his personal life revolve around the city of Chicago. The author received his M.A. in clinical social work from the University of Chicago, and later an M.F.A. in creative writing from Syracuse University.
Levin currently lives in Chicago, where he teaches creative writing at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and the impact on the arch of his stories is obvious. His 2010, 900-page novel, “The Instructions,” captured a youth rebellion within the Chicago public school system — “Hot Pink,” in turn, features settings and dialogue evocative of his home as well.
“I suppose I could write a story set in Syracuse, but I trust myself writing a story set in Chicago more,” Levin said in an interview with The Chicago Sun-Times. “I know the city, and I think I know the various ways people talk (there).”
Having a comfort zone in the Windy City has made for some breezy prose. Borrowing from the styles of Philip Roth and the late, coveted David Foster Wallace, Levin’s work is unabashedly a stream of consciousness, flowing freely from family dysfunction to flashy street violence. Sometimes it is engaging, and other times, its nonchalance is absurd.
“Hot Pink” erects ridiculous scenarios at breakneck speeds before shrugging them off as just another day in Chicago, such as the sudden brutality and sex of “Jane Tell.” Postmodernism can come with a warning label requesting a suspension of disbelief, but the story has to convince us it is worth our while to do so. In the case of “Jane Tell,” the particular story from which Levin read, the characters careened existentially around like a knockoff Chuck Palahniuk tale. It is marauding of “Fight Club” and is also subliminally obvious — shallow romance sparked at group therapy, emotional relief from physical violence and dialogue that quips but never sticks.
It is doubtful that Levin intended to copy-change “Fight Club” and ride off its success. But the action of stitching Palahniuk, Wallace, Salinger and even some Saunders into a new body of work comes with a caveat: If done carelessly, it’s bound to backfire.
It is worth noting that the first story in “Hot Pink” is called “Frankenwittcenstein.” Perhaps even Levin’s aware of the mismatched and uncoordinated creature he has engineered.
Levin has a tremendous gift for experimental ideas and a drive to write. A 900-page novel and 200 pages of frothing stories are not generated easily, after all. Nevertheless, Levin must be up to the challenge of better suturing his points together and finding a reliable editor.
“Writing’s hard — I think that when it’s not hard, it’s useless,” Levin said during his question and answer session.
For better or worse, those closing remarks had more inherent truth than his reading of “Hot Pink” could muster.
(12/03/13 11:39pm)
On Friday, Nov. 22, Campus Police reported a trespassing incident on the third floor of Decker Hall. The suspect, who was on the College’s banned list from residence halls, was approached by officers responding to the scene in the late afternoon. Although he questioned why officers were there, the suspect gathered his possessions by request and left, later being processed at the police department, according to Campus Police. The suspect received a summons for criminal trespass.
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A student was reported to be intoxicated in Townhouse South on Saturday, Nov. 23, at 1:30 a.m. According to Campus Police, the underage student was conscious but verbally unresponsive. Lions EMS then transported the student to Capital Health Medical Center in Hopewell to be treated.
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On Saturday, Nov. 23, a student was found to be heavily intoxicated in the third floor bathroom of Allen Hall, according to Campus Police. The student, who was questioned by officers around 2 a.m., readily admitted to consuming seven shots of Bacardi rum and Captain Morgan rum earlier in the evening. Police said the student also received a summons for a minor with possession and consumption of alcoholic beverages.
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An intoxicated female student was found vomiting into a trash can in the ninth floor elevator lobby in Wolfe Hall, according to campus police. The student admitted to having consumed some quantity of vodka, but she could not say how much. She was later evaluated by Lions EMS and received a summons for underage consumption of alcoholic beverages, according to Campus Police.
(11/19/13 6:12pm)
Spanning 25 acts, eight hours and several jugglers, INK’s biannual “The Goods” showcased a range of creative works from students and postmodern readings from novelist Tao Lin on Saturday, Nov. 16, at the Rathskeller.
“The Goods” is an open opportunity for students to present their art in both a close environment and one friendly to idiosyncrasies. Love poems are to be appreciated. A presentation on the existential philosophy of beauty is to be admired. No performer’s endeavors go underrepresented, and it serves as one of many appeals to INK’s all-day event.
Primarily driven by writers, a majority of student performers read their original literary works. Megan Osika, a junior secondary education, English and women’s and gender studies triple major, recited selected poems while secretary of INK Rachel Friedman read a short story focussing on the reassimilation of a newly disabled girl. Other members of the organization also gave prominent performances, including puns by events cordinator Mylin Batipps and poetry by president Carly DaSilva.
Musicians played an equally important role in the schedule. Artists Tom Ciccone and Matthew Pignatore, for example, performed two respective sets on guitar, providing a break in between the readings with their own sweet melodies.
At 6:30 p.m., the crowd waited restlessly for the arrival of headlining reader Tao Lin: novelist, poet, journalist and 2005 graduate of NYU. But Lin, unfortunately, had gone to the wrong location. He arrived at 7:20 p.m. instead with only half of the allotted time to read, and the mea culpa dug into his performance.
Reciting a passage from his recently-released third novel, “Taipei,” Lin read as if coming out of general anesthesia — his delivery, drowsy and monotone, confused some viewers as to whether the humor in his passage was intended to be deadpan or if its narrator was merely depressed. Words slurred, he broke narrative to apologize for incomprehensible plot points. Inevitably, Lin may not have been impressed with himself.
“This was boring for everyone, even me,” Lin said after completing his work from “Taipei.”
He then read from his earlier novel, “Richard Yates,” which fell more favorably on audience members who grasped the postmodern humor. With characters named Dakota Fanning and Haley Joel Osment, unassociated with their real-life acting counterparts, Lin’s writing raised interesting questions about perception and identity.
For some, Lin presented himself as nothing short of perplexity. But perhaps it was all in the act. Reading or even hearing Lin’s prose is culture shock to our own environment. Though minimalistic, he captured a 21st century extremism that explored the emptiness of conversation, marathons of lonely Tweets and drug-induced complacency. His words are practically displacing. To admit their truths is to seem cynical, but to reject them as foreign is naive. Reading in his casual montone may have been initially off-putting for some, but if it proved an existential point, then Lin’s performance was a successful climax to “The Goods” celebration of the arts.
(11/19/13 6:03pm)
On Thursday, Nov. 14 at 12:30 p.m., a student reported a stolen wallet in the Brower Student Center, according to Campus Police. Officers reported that the girl, who had left her wallet valued at $55 on the table while getting food, discovered it missing after finishing her meal. The wallet was filed as a theft.
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A student dining in Eickhoff Hall reported a missing wallet on Friday, Nov. 16, according to Campus Police. The brown leather wallet was reportedly valued at $41. The student told officers that he believes it was stolen.
(11/19/13 5:46pm)
The buzzword to describe students of the 21st century has been “apathetic.”
The word, serving as a reaction to the alleged lack of political and social activity among young adults, is loaded with comparisons: how the era of unbridled political activism in the 1960s is long gone, and how students today have shied away from investing their interests in notable causes.
Students at the College face a similar allegation.
While the campus has common political structures from political party groups to politics fora, many hold fast to the perception that the student body is uninvolved in the political process.
“Many of TCNJ’s students are politically apathetic … As citizens, we are very removed from any direct participation in the national political scene,” sophomore political science major Brendan Neal said.
The conception is not misplaced. College students statistically tend to be “the least politically active citizens,” according to political science professor Brian Potter.
Many lack the time or resources to engage in the political process, let alone deeply understand any relevant national issues.
“(Students) are torn in different directions politically and have different impulses. It’s hard to motivate the populace in general,” Potter said.
Hypothetically, campus organizations are supposed to mobilize students for particular causes.
The College has many, including the College Democrats, College Republicans and Amnesty International.
But even these groups have stepped back from the public eye, becoming less active in spite of increasingly heated national debates.
“Political clubs vary in activity year to year, depending on how effective the new leadership is and how active the members want to be. For some reason, it’s been quiet — I wish the Republicans and Democrats were more effective this year,” Potter said.
When asked about their involvement and how they motivate students to participate, all three clubs could not be reached. So, student apathy appears visually prevalent. But taking an accurate measure of that observation is difficult.
The term can be inflated by students who feel disillusioned by their peers or political movements in general. Moreover, a variety of variables exist, influencing student involvement or a lack thereof.
Framing a particular facet of political activity can shed some light on the reality, though — in this case, consider voting.
Students vote when they find an incentive to do so. But voting incurs personal costs, both in time and in money, particularly if students are registered at home. As a result, political science professor Daniel Bowen noted that “there’s expected to be low turnout.”
According to campusvoteproject.org, only “24 percent of all eligible young people aged 18-29” took part in the 2010 midterm elections. Even a simple survey on campus produced similar turnouts. Across two microeconomics 101 courses with a wide distribution of genders, ages and majors, only three out of 57 students voted in the New Jersey gubernatorial elections on Tuesday, Nov. 5. The election allowed students to vote on a minimum wage hike, a provision that directly impacts their employment options.
The numbers appear lackluster. But perhaps this should be expected.
“The importance of voting increases as the importance of government increases on your everyday decisions,” Bowen said. “When you graduate from college, when you have a job, start paying taxes and have a family, you start to care about bigger issues in public policy.”
Ultimately, political apathy exists, both qualitatively from student inactivity and quantitatively from basic facts. But it’s also to be expected. If this is the case, then one must consider how to better mobilize students at the College.
Involvement doesn’t just equate bold activistism and protest. Public debate, community work, interning on campaigns and simply being a good citizen are just as essential to the political process, despite often being underrated.
For others, awareness is key.
“Inspiring students to be involved is easy. It’s about showing them that politics isn’t an exclusively national game,” Neal said. “It’s about teaching them that ‘all politics is local,’ and that their vote carries weight on the state and local levels.”
College faculty can also inspire student activity through academics, framing issues and empowering students to influence outcomes in their interest.
“A good political science department can help focus on the role of institutions, structures, demographics and other causal mechanisms that influence the headlines we see,” Bowen said. “We can embrace these concepts and empower students to say, ‘Let’s think deeply about these issues.’”
The solutions vary, but they’ll all need to be employed if students are to become a force capable of combating real-world issues directly. In other words, the apathy of students today becomes their political problems tomorrow.
(11/12/13 6:00pm)
Vandalism was discovered in the basement of Decker Hall on Sunday, Nov. 10 at 11:10 a.m. According to Campus Police, damage was done to the elevator ceiling along with the exit sign to the student lounge. The walls and ceiling inside the lounge were also covered in what appeared to be a mix of jelly and eggs, according to Campus Police. No visual surveillance was captured of the event.
(10/22/13 3:28pm)
Modern times are a beautifully absurd place to be for Paul Leagult. Hailing from the postmodernist enclaves of Brooklyn, the critically acclaimed poet and translator offered a reading of his work to the College on Wednesday, Oct. 16. At times, Legault twisted cultural mysteries into an upside down art form — at others, his poems seemed to pilot a thought process without his listeners quite on board. Perhaps that’s the point.
Born in Ontario and raised in Tennessee, Legault had originally wanted to be a screenwriter after “renting too many movies out at Blockbuster.” He obtained his B.F.A. in screenwriting from the University of Southern California, but after dedicating so much of his spare energy to poetry, decided to earn an M.F.A. in creative writing from the University of Virginia. There was never a definitive moment when he learned how to write, as he noted in his question and answer session. It was indefinitely started but constantly pursued.
Legault has since published three books of poetry, selecting a few pieces from each to read aloud. These books include “The Madeleine Poems” in 2010, “The Other Poems” in 2011 and, most recently, 2012’s “The Emily Dickinson Reader.” The latter is a self-described “English-to-English” translation of all 1,789 Dickinson poems, only condensed into quipping, 21st century one-liners. It’s a rare combination of both Legault’s voice and the 18th century Amherst poet. The result, when flipping between the originals and Legault’s stripped-down drag translations, is enlightening and hilarious.
“I live dangerously indoors,” reads one translation. Dickinson, the formidable recluse, may have chuckled at Legault’s catty interpretations of her work.
But his adaptations were often faithfully sentimental, too. “You live very far away, but I would still like to see you,” read another. The audience swooned. There are, after all, emotional bridges between dead poets and their readers centuries later.
“I used to get angry when people tried to connect (Dickinson’s) poems to things happening in her life,” Legault said. “But then I realized that these funny things people were saying, pointing out that she had emotional feelings parallel to our own, was really useful.”
The translations within “The Emily Dickinson Reader” are succinct and relatable, but these are qualities that tend to evade Legault’s other works. His previous poetry, littered with dialogue between inanimate objects and incomplete observations, is a winding path to follow. Dogs put on hats with no conclusion, and “tiny versions of yourself (are) stacked” atop one another like a Tower of Babel in more ways than just the figurative.
It’s unclear what’s really going on in these poems. To analyze individual stanzas would be to shake a mixed bag of unsorted thoughts. And while these may be clear to Legault, both quirky and brilliant, readers may view its contents through a distant kaleidoscope.
Still, that’s modernity to Legault: a dizzy, funny, inscrutable take on the universe, far from the truth but maybe inching closer to it. And for all his topsy-turvy writing, he’s still grounded in the moment of his northeast home.
“All of my ideas come from here, this tri-state area,” Legault said. “That’s how my ideas travel but stay in one location at the same time.”
(10/15/13 3:05pm)
Bridging the divisions between a number of diverse a cappella groups, the College’s annual Acappellooza, held on Saturday, Oct. 12, showcased just how many styles of all-vocal performances could be arranged and deftly delivered.
Organized by campus troupe The Trentones, five groups passed the mic over the course of the evening. Each shared the typical characteristics needed to compose an a cappella group — layered tenors and sopranos, a beatboxer to steer the course of the song — but each group’s thematic focus shifted dramatically, from its choice of songs to its underlying mission statement.
The Trentones, as the hosts of the evening, opened and closed the show with separate sets. Their first couplet of tracks included a rendition of James Taylor’s classic beauty “That Lonesome Road” and a mashup of Beyonce’s “Halo” and Kelly Clarkson’s “Already Gone.” But their standout performance came in the closing set — with a powerhouse female performance from sophomore secondary education and math double major Ali Falcone, the troupe stomped out the gospel-charged rhythms of Delta Rae’s “Bottom of the River.”
To take an original song and format it for a cappella, though, can require some vocal gymnastics.
“We basically choose songs based on what we like and what we think can be arranged in a cool way,” The Trentones’ president Corrina Santos said. “The complexity of arrangements is varied based on the song and the person arranging it, but there is a lot to think about while arranging. The harmonies, tempo and vowels are just the beginning.”
As evidenced from their performance at Acappellooza, the Trentones often set the bar as the College’s most recognizable a cappella group. For some students, the groups to follow were entirely new discoveries. Take Voice of Hope, the only Christian a cappella group on campus. By eschewing the variety of genres performed by other groups and relying solely on religious hits, the group has gained less mainstream coverage on campus. Still, Voice of Hope has some nascent talents brewing, if not for a few
(10/08/13 5:31pm)
Jonathan M. Katz, the only full-time American journalist to cover the events surrounding the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, spoke to students about the flaws of international intervention and the island’s slow recovery on Wednesday, Oct. 2.
Katz, who penned the disaster relief efforts into a book called “The Big Truck That Went By,” was a reporter for the Associated Press at the time of the earthquake. From the crumbling second story of a rented house in Pétionville, he began reporting on the destruction unfolding around him, including the boondoggle of the United Nations’ efforts to provide aid, and broke the story of an unprecedented cholera outbreak stemming from U.N. activity.
With these overt concerns in mind, Katz stressed that rushing to aid a nation in distress might not be the most effective measure.
“Sometimes it’s better to be thoughtful than to be helpful,” he said. “And it’s more important for the person helping to step back and think through exactly what they’re doing.”
Immediately stressing the point is the subtitle of his book: “How the World Came to Save Haiti and Left Behind a Disaster.” There are innate flaws within an atmosphere where uninformed parties run amok in situations more complicated than originally understood.
“You see a problem somewhere in the world, and you think that by spontaneously acting, you can solve the problem,” Katz said. “Our inherent notion of social justice, or just being helpful, is very much intimately tied up with our privileges … so we don’t stop to think what the actual repercussions of those actions might actually be.”
The heralds of good will, though well-intentioned, weren’t aware of other underlying problems that may not have been visible. Many of these were infrastructure oriented — improved sewer and sanitation systems, for instance, were desperately needed. But the logistics of this are complex and overlooked.
When it came time to find solutions regarding water, septic and sanitation systems, no foreign aid in Haiti was prepared to tackle the question.
“These are problems that have been solved for over a century in developed areas of the world with good governance and infrastructure, but the solutions are really difficult,” Katz said. “It requires boring work, long term investment … and many times without a statue in your name. But the work that you do may very well save the lives of millions of people.”
Katz’s coverage of Haiti has been praised for its accuracy and cogent analysis of how disaster relief turned into a bona fide disaster. In taking on the mistakes of the U.N., though, he faced a gap between his own preponderance of evidence and the organization’s denial of the facts.
“You never know how a story is going to be received, and you shouldn’t withhold a story solely because the people being implicated might be angry,” Katz said in an interview with The Signal. “At this point, the U.N. has stopped being in the business of denying their connections to the cholera outbreak and simply don’t want to talk about it. So the debate has shifted to ‘what should be done about it,’ and there’s a strong argument to be made on the merits of accountability.’
But as a journalist working in the field, he cited his preparedness and research as nothing short of essential in crafting a faithful story.
“Almost by luck, I had been in Haiti for about two and a half years by then,” Katz said. “I really knew the place and I really knew the situation … so the thing to do is prepare, both in terms of your training and your safety in responding to a dangerous situation, so that when something does happen, you find yourself in the right place at the right time.”
(10/08/13 4:40pm)
Most mornings, Larry Stevens swipes students into breakfast with a special name for each of them.
“Cat-Cat’s in the house.”
“My main man, my pots and pans.”
The possibilities are endless.
Towering over the counter at an unmistakable 6’5”, he’s the first friendly face seen before an 8 a.m. class and certainly the most eminent. Of course, we know him more intimately as “Big Larry” — the cultural epitome of Eickhoff Hall and, in some ways, the entire College administration.
“I walk through campus and get about a hundred hellos,” Stevens said. “I bet you I’m more well-known than the president. Everyone knows me! They remember ‘Big Larry.’”
And he’s right. The icon that “Big Larry” has seamlessly created for himself over a 21-year career at the College is as large as his posture: fake Twitter accounts, enthusiastic nods in Buzzfeed articles and, needless to say, the admiration of his students. He serves as the appetizer before all morning meals, an emotional pick-me-up that nullifies any complaints about the food.
But there’s still plenty of room for guesswork. “Big Larry,” though the figurehead of Eickhoff, has an image that overshadows Larry Stevens, the man outside the College who students only meet halfway.
Born in 1950, Stevens was the oldest of four brothers and sisters. He grew up in South Trenton amid the postwar boom, seeing the city flourish while he attended Trenton Central High School. He would go on to witness national desegregation and the era of the Kennedys: “personal idols” of his. But it wasn’t until 1973 when Stevens moved to Ewing, working and raising two sons, and it wasn’t until 1992 when he arrived at the College.
“At the time, my brother-in-law worked here, and he helped give me the opportunity to join in,” Stevens said.
Since then, he has served more than 20 graduating classes of students, each group of seniors saying “goodbye” and each wave of freshmen learning his legacy.
“I especially like working with the freshmen,” Stevens said. “They’ve never been away from home before, and that’s a big step. You go away, and nobody’s telling you to go to class, no mommy and daddy telling you to get up. But it’s nice to have someone taking care of you, and that’s what I try to do.”
From 7:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m., Stevens greets students on good days and bad. No matter what time they walk through the doors, he’s bursting with unbridled energy — a dance here, a joke there — something to transfer his own enthusiasm into a smile on each of likely hundreds of faces. That said, the opposite is just as true.
“You guys, you make me feel young,” he said beaming. “The students here are like my own children. I’m 62, but coming in to work every day, you meet so many new people that it gives me a charge. You give me my youth.”
Big Larry’s day-to-day optimism is an anomaly among his crowd, though. For a maroon-collar worker to hold as much status as the College’s own mascot, it’s indicative of his relationship with the student body. He said that he keeps in contact with many of his former students, and even went to a basketball game with one not too long ago. When he said “they remember Big Larry,” he also meant they reconnect.
“I try to get to know everyone’s names, like a bank teller or a bartender,” Stevens said. “It makes them feel special. And when a kid can look at me and say ‘you made my day,’ that makes me feel good.”
By extension, he knows more tightly-knit information about his students than perhaps their own parents.
“They tell me personal stuff. I’m like the Eickhoff social worker,” he said.
Few cafeteria workers garner such attention. But the matter of recognition is one more of respect, a reciprocated courtesy shared between Stevens and everyone he meets. No message was stressed more powerfully to me than a few of his own choice words: “Without respect, you ain’t got nothin’.” If this boils down to Steven’s life philosophy, then he certainly has it all.
Today, Stevens continues to live in Ewing close to the College. He prides himself on his family, his career and his love of the Philadelphia Eagles. He sees his seven grandchildren as often as possible, but the geographical distance between them can be difficult. In their absence, he considers his students and his campus “a home away from home.”
But Stevens, like all employees, is looking toward the future.
“I want to be right here, really,” he said. “But I’ll tell you: in about two, maybe three years, I’m planning on retiring. Then there’ll be no more ‘Big Larry.’” At the very least, he promised to retire at the same time I graduate — “so we can go out together.”
A campus life without “Big Larry” is slowly approaching down the road. But it’s impossible to assume his absence at the counter means the end of his legacy. Larry Stevens is a man, but Big Larry is a symbol. He has transcended beyond standards and into an inexorable feature of the College. Even the nickname, whose origins are amusingly unknown, echoes year after year across campus, as common and established as if it were a building dedicated in his name.
“I don’t remember where the name came from, it’s almost like Big’s my first name and Larry’s my last,” he said. “But I like it. It’s nice to know you’re loved by someone else besides your family. Students like me, know nothing about me, but still have respect for me. And that’s a gift.”
I wouldn’t make the trip to an early breakfast without the pretext that “Big Larry” would be there to welcome me. Nor can I imagine the atmosphere of Eickhoff without seeing the 62-year-old tease students and crack jokes like he was 30. When the time does come, though, someone will have to pick up the torch. Someone will need to bridge the generational gap between students and staff, remember their names, high-five their successes and lift up their woes. That’s Larry for you, and those are some big shoes to fill.
(10/08/13 4:05pm)
By Tom Kozlowski and Courtney Wirths
A&E Editor and Photo Editor
F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “Life starts again when it gets crisp in the fall.” So does the obsession with pumpkins. Autumn is the time when all can embrace the warm and cozy goodness of a cup or bowl of pumpkin. One Sunday morning, Tom Kozlowski and Courtney Wirths set off on a journey to the small-town main street of Princeton, N.J. Their mission: vindicate or destroy every first-world fangirl’s craving for the seasonal veggie savor. Their targets: three pumpkin dishes. One was to be a hot drink, the second a dessert and the third, ice cream (which is, in fact, another dessert). Their success rate? Fall-ing fast.
Coming in hot, the team landed on Nassau Street, hungry and impatient. With caffeine on their minds, they hooked a left through an alley and found themselves at Small World Coffee, Princeton’s premiere indie “we don’t accept your credit cards” café. Consequently, they were broke, especially after the meter gorged on all their coins. Still, with overzealous Greenwich rejected baristas pelting them with options, they settled: one hot pumpkin cappuccino and an iced pumpkin latte.
Small — that’s how they would describe their purchases. Once they picked up their jaws and realized they were charged for sample cups, Wirths sipped the delicate foam off the cusp of her coffee while Kozlowski funnelled his latte down like he was late for a meeting. The hot cappuccino was aesthetically pleasing, as there was a lovely pumpkin swirl through the white delicious steamed milk. The foam was also the best tasting part of the coffee — a light and airy sip of Grandma’s house. And while the latte was refreshingly cold, it blended the seasonal spices to a sweet perfection.
Now caffeinated beyond safe levels, the team scampered from the café with dessert on their minds. Naturally, this encompassed all three meals in one day, so a balance of high fructose corn syrup and icing was totally kosher.
House of Cupcakes stands out among its surroundings as a homely, enticing hamlet. Naturally, they barged in. The woman behind the counter greeted them with a big smile when, in unison, Wirths and Kozlowski asked, “Do you have pumpkin?”
She smiled warmly and handed the pair a pumpkin cupcake in a small covered cup. The cupcake had a rich cream-cheese frosting piped on the top and was sprinkled with cinnamon. At the tippy-top was a candy corn pumpkin for decoration. The cake was moist and the frosting was perfectly sweet, but one thing that was missing from this pumpkin cupcake — the pumpkin.
“I think this is carrot cake,” Kozlowski said. “No, this is actually carrot cake.” He was certainly not impressed.
But they refused to end their mission on a sour note — they still had to get that cream. “Off to the Bent Spoon!” Wirths yelled with conviction. “I’m getting fat!” lamented Kozlowski. The ice cream establishments would not give in, though. Bent Spoon: pumpkin-less. Halo Pub: a myth. And as they dragged their feet in a Charlie-Brown-trudge of disappointment, lo and behold came Thomas Sweets.
The highest leaf of the oranging oak — a cup swirling with autumnal ecstasy, Thomas Sweets’ pumpkin ice cream was the essential seasonal treat. Like a cool creamy sister to pumpkin pie filling, this was the real canned-pumpkin deal. Any declared aficionado of the pumpkin persuasion is obligated to close a fall evening wrapped in a Snuggie with a spoonful of this frozen pumpkin cream.
Bellies full, they rolled their way back to the car with their happiness raising like the Great Pumpkin. So this harvest, in celebrating the ancient rite of the pumpkin spice, make your way to Princeton on a hayride of flavor and simply, tastefully, enjoy.
(09/17/13 3:29pm)
If you learn anything from Fred Armisen and Mike Birbiglia, it is to not take comedy for granted.
“It’s not a practical life decision to pursue comedy as a career,” Birbiglia said during an interview with The Signal. “But if you have to do it long enough, eventually it can become one.”
Friday’s headliners of the CUB-sponsored Fall Comedy Show — “Saturday Night Live” star Armisen of observational quirkiness and Birbiglia of classic stand-up — expressed the disparity in turning jokes into jobs. Both are successful and critically acclaimed performers, which easily came across during their sets at the College. But each has a particular style that can correspond differently per audience. Comedy may seem universal, but its players are not.
“I like to think I’ve made a career out of bombing shows,” Armisen said when asked about the risks of performing cold for crowds, speculating that it teeters on the listeners. “Reactions vary from audience to audience. And it’s not that I enjoy feeling uncomfortable in the silence of a joke, but it’s what ultimately keeps me going.”
Armisen, though having the longevity of 11 years on “SNL,” opened the night for Birbiglia. Many of his jokes attempted to translate his improvisational success into a dialogue with the audience, sporting topics that everyone could identify with. But as he predicted, reactions varied.
He then waltzed around stage impersonating people’s physical responses to music, like that mysteriously hip, hotel lobby jazz, and took requests for world accents that he performed at the drop of a hat: Latvian, Swedish, all five boroughs of New York and a confused, Bostonian Mark Wahlberg. He even jammed as “SNL” punk personality Ian Rubbish. For those unfamiliar with the skits, his musical comedy may have fallen flat. But Birbiglia, as his friend and hype man, praised Armisen’s versatility as “the real deal.”
It was Birbiglia’s presence on stage, though, that illustrated the disparity in their humor. Where Armisen drew chuckles and sing-alongs from a string of unrelated, conversational pieces, Birbiglia was a storyteller. Much like the show and subsequent film “Sleepwalk with Me,” his narratives are both self-deprecating and charming, never holding back a giggle that makes his stories all the more hilarious.
“One time when I was sleepwalking, I jumped through a window,” he said. “And by jumped, I mean ... I went through the closed, second-story window and just kept running. Like the Hulk.”
His anecdotes brought the audience hunched over in their seats because they were relatable and understandable stand-up, simple and pure.
“I was raised Catholic, I was an altar boy, and if you’re wondering, the answer is ‘no,’” he said.
This is precisely what the audience expected from Armisen but got instead from Birbiglia: relentless and well-rounded jokes, unapologetic, but told with a smile. When both comedians regrouped for a question and answer session after Birbiglia’s performance, they bounced jokes off each other gracefully while giving Armisen the chance to do his specially requested “Mike Birbiglia impersonation.”
But some were still unimpressed. The famed Fred Armisen, as seen on TV, was reserved and off-beat — compared to Birbiglia’s set, it was almost a letdown. But this is a comparison of comedic apples to oranges.
The two work in vastly different spheres of comedy: Armisen in sketch comedy and Birbiglia in one-man shows akin to “Louie.” To claim that Birbiglia killed while Armisen flopped would detract from Armisen’s obvious talents and undermine the purpose of the show: to make us laugh, one way or another.
“To do comedy, or anything artistic really, is to be delusional about it,” Armisen said. “You have to convince yourself that it’s going really, really well when it isn’t, and sooner or later it’ll start to.”
Whether enamored with the comedians’ performances or not, they’ve established themselves as well past the point of pretending to be funny. From different fields of comedy, they’re hitting out of the park. And, of course, be sure to expect more work from them to come.
“I’m always fascinated by artists who are so prolifically creative,” Birbiglia told The Signal. “The fact that people can continue generating new material for years or decades is just unthinkable — and better than the half-decent stuff I do … So basically, I want to be Bob Dylan.”
(09/10/13 5:00am)
Where were you when Oscar Grant was shot? More than likely, you don’t recall the name or place. You may remember the moment when you discovered Bin Laden was killed or the news that Michael Jackson was found overmedicated. Not Oscar, though — an unknown face in the crowd. After seeing Ryan Coogler’s “Fruitvale Station,” his will became an inescapable visage, a sketch of racial prejudice in America, but above all, a portrait of that human mark representing us all.
Oscar’s death is, in the scope of the factual film, predetermined. The opening shots of “Fruitvale” encase the endpoint. They belong to a shaky cell phone video that captures the final moments of Oscar’s life. Pinned against the wall of an Oakland train station, he and a group of friends — all black minorities — are targeted and bowed to BRAT police officers, antemeridian New Years 2009. Confrontation is inevitable and chaos ensues. But as Oscar attempts to reason, he is forced to the ground, cuffed and fatally shot by an officer without visible or moral justification.
All this occurs within the first minute of the film, but everything remains to tell. Oscar had a life, stolen by an act of untenable, sad brutality and disguised as a daily deed.
“Fruitvale” is Coogler’s directional debut and is not unconsciously released in the wake of the Trayvon Martin case. But “Fruitvale” is no mere homage to the Travyon scenario. He is a remarkable story in himself — remembered for his harrowing conclusion but supported by the significance of being a father, friend and fighter.
The film follows Oscar (played with a heroic humanity by Michael B. Jordan) in the 24 hours of New Year’s Eve before that ultimate and previously witnessed shooting. We, as the audience, are aware of what is to come. But watching Oscar beyond the veil of viral video, we are warmed at his courage, troubled by his weaknesses and defeated under the ominous knowledge that we, like bystanders, can do nothing to subvert his Fruitvale fate. Interactive cinematography knows all too well how to relegate us to the sideline too, often trailing Oscar’s path from behind his shoulder, watching his back. But it’s the front that Oscar faces alone.
We are already privy to the ugly themes that slither along the Bay Area’s city streets: racial profiling, the race against poverty, the collective failures of societal systems and the individual burdens of careless action. For Coogler, their presence is like blood smeared on a camera lens. Recall the symbolic mutt murdered outside the gas station. It is not the perpetrators that take responsibility for running it down, but Oscar, who carries its whimpering body into death.
So shines a good deed in a weary world, but there are no prayers, faux accountability. And to our linguistic dismay, it is not long before Oscar himself is shot down like a dog.
Yet, we cherish our time with Oscar. Playtime with his daughter, the most cherished of treasures, or his mother’s birthday, he is surrounded by that fulfilling, familial love. Here, the power of family cannot be understated (for Octavia Spencer, the most sturdy of matriarchs, is crippled to tears at the sight of her son under a blanket).
Even small acts of kindness from strangers are brought to light, insignificant as they are. For kindnesses, in their infrequent glory, are those binding sentiments that make Oscar’s life worth recounting firsthand: there’s a palpable goodness in the world, all it needs is a chance to act.
This bridges at the nexus of Coogler’s most fundamental point, namely, that Oscar and the audience are looking for a fresh start — a way out of what appears inevitable and a way “to just get home.” That line was uttered by one of Oscar’s friends during their detainment in the station, and it still rings true.
Oscar’s life is a complicated medley encompassing prison time and lost jobs, but also the desire for a clean slate. His aspirations and setbacks are human. They are empathized with but socially unanswered. But that necessity of opportunity — at its darkest, merely to live — must be given in a society functioning on too many human components to be considered self-correcting. Only our most selfish impulses negate that promise.
Oscar’s death could have been prevented. It should have been prevented. But in the toppling of existential dominoes, the destination was set without his consent. This is the theft of New Year’s resolutions. This is the last stop at Fruitvale Station and consequently the last stop at our ethical frustrations. How promising Oscar was, would be and how much an audience came to know him — how little some home-bound passengers would know him but would grieve at the glimpse of witnessed violence poured and unwarranted outside their midnight window. There is no real atonement, not for Oscar, his loved ones or those like him. There are only witnesses to spread the word. How we explain that to those like Oscar’s now fatherless daughter is unclear, but it is clearly our responsibility.
At some point while we wait for Oscar’s end, Coogler gives us an angle: a shot of Oscar entering the train, the doors closing and without moving the camera, a view of the cars passing by, faster and faster reeling like film until we are left with an arresting silence and still. That still is how we leave a story like Oscar’s, alone and reflective on the saddest of truths. But remember it as a plea, if anything, that Oscar was here with us once, he was human and he was the best and worst of us all.
(09/03/13 7:05pm)
With another semester underway, the College’s theatrical community is suiting up for a new season of productions. Last spring brought the musical brovado of Herbert Ross’s “Footloose” to campus, but theater groups of all styles are prompting fresh ideas and auditions for the upcoming fall stage.
This October, All College Theatre will present the Greek comedy “Lysistrata” on Kendall Hall’s main stage. The play, which will run from Oct. 9 to 12, chronicles an attempt by Greek women to end the Peloponnesian War by withholding sex from their husbands — a ploy that instead tends to inflame the men. Students young and old are encouraged to get involved with the production.
“We’re excited to meet and work with new people,” ACT president Lindsey Nice said. “Whether that’s freshmen, new transfers or anyone who’s been at TCNJ for a while but hasn’t made it to an ACT meeting yet, we love to make friends.”
There will also be an interactive murder mystery show scheduled later in the semester, though at this time there are no released details.
This semester additionally brings new faces to ACT, but they trust that the organization’s talent has remained.
“Besides a newly elected executive board, not much has changed,” Nice said. “However, this year we plan to focus more on working with other organizations on campus.”
Another key campus group, TCNJ Musical Theatre, is planning its usual roster of shows for the fall. Broadway Night routinely occurs in early October, with solo or group musical numbers crowning the night, while “Cabaret” will premiere from Nov. 14 to 16 and on Nov. 22 and 23.
“TMT is so excited to be performing a two-weekend run for the first time,” president Jenna Rose said. “‘Pippin’ was such a success last year that we had to spread the performances out of Cabaret over two weekends.”
In addition to their upcoming shows, TMT is jointly planning an event with the College Union Board and Lion Late Night, with more details expected to surface soon.
Elsewhere, The Mixed Signals, the College’s improvisation group, will hold their first show on Sept. 15 in the Library Auditorium, according to their website. Annual auditions for the troupe will be held in October for anyone interested and quick on their feet.
And even if students are not keen on acting, the College’s theater groups welcome students with talents across the board.
“(Theater) is not just a place for actors,” Nice said. “It is for anyone who is interested in writing, producing, directing, stage management, set, tech, lights, sound, costumes, props or makeup.”
Needless to say, the College’s theater community has a spotlight reserved for the dramatic side in all of us.
(08/27/13 4:12am)
After being awarded a $10,700 grant from the New Jersey Council for the Humanities, the College will present an artistic and cultural project to the public entitled “Art Amongst War: Visual Culture in Afghanistan, 1979-2014.”
With funding going to the Art Gallery and the department of Art and Art History, the College will introduce a series of programs and interdisciplinary exhibitions evocative of Afghan life amidst the seemingly ceaseless marathon of war in the country.
The upcoming 2014 school year marks the 35th anniversary of modern conflict in Afghanistan, beginning with the Soviet invasion in 1979 and subsequent rise of the Taliban. Depictions of violence and desolation are prevalent, particularly in Western media coverage of post-9/11 counterterrorism efforts. But rarely is the more human element to Afghanistan’s struggle elicited truthfully.
Just as National Geographic’s “Afghan Girl” opened the world to life inside war, the College’s grant aims to uncover more of the country’s cultural reality. The exhibition asks two key questions: namely, “What has 35 years of war done to the culture of Afghanistan, and how do people employ culture to respond to the traumas of war?”
Associate professor of Art History Deborah Hutton has some insight on these questions. As a developer of the project and curator of the art exhibition, Hutton will present the opening program, “Beyond the Images of the Evening News: Afghanistan’s Visual Culture in Context.”
While this precedes the exhibition’s opening on March 5, the program will begin to explore angles of Afghan life often overshadowed.
“The artwork we will exhibit is all by Afghan or Afghan-American artists, and we will be showing not only contemporary, avant-garde artworks, but also photojournalistic images of life in Afghanistan,” Hutton said. “Photography was outlawed by the Taliban, but in the last decade or so, a new generation of photographers has become quite active — many of whom are in their mid-20’s and just a bit older than most TCNJ students.”
From there, several programs will build upon an exposure to Afghan culture from various angles. “History of Histories: Afghan Films, 1969-Present,” for example, will showcase a compilation of both fictional and factual videos organized by artist Mariam Ghani.
Elsewhere, another presentation will highlight how young Afghan boys and girls can be empowered through skateboarding by the non-governmental organization “Skateistan.”
These exhibitions and programs are being developed by Hutton and director of the Art Gallery Emily Croll in preparation for the unveiling in March. Yet, a cadre of the College’s staff and professors are also assisting in their advisory.
The New Jersey Council for the Humanities — the provider of the grant — aims to “support and promote projects that explore and interpret the human experience (and) foster cross-cultural understanding,” among others, according to the School of Arts & Communications website.
Moreover, Hutton is hopeful that these goals can be fulfilled for viewers.
“I hope that (the project) will get people to appreciate the rich culture and history of Afghanistan,” Hutton said. “To see that it isn’t just a dusty, cold, broken place of war, but a place with a long history and rich culture, a place that is changing quickly and filled with young people who aren’t just helpless victims or uneducated warlords, but who are smart, creative and working hard under difficult circumstances to make their country better.”
(04/30/13 4:54pm)
It may lack the notoriety of Cannes, but the Campus Movie Festival allows aspiring student directors to display their talents before they make it to the international scene. This year, the competition saw up to 70 teams submit films for consideration, but only a select few were chosen to be screened on Tuesday, April 23 at the award ceremony.
Given the task of making a movie in seven days, student groups created five-minute short films across campus and genres. The CMF, sponsored by the School of Arts & Communications, provided each group with a camera, a MacBook Pro and pre-installed software to edit their films together.
The result was the screening of 16 contenders, chosen by a panel of student and faculty judges. Red carpet unfurled and faux-Oscar buzz in the air, the ceremony proceeded with a viewing of each film in randomized order and audience interaction for trivia and prizes.
No single genre dominated the evening. Comedies like “A Ticket to Paradise,” following a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory-esque journey with a golden ticket, and “An American Bookshelf,” a puppet love story of books in the College library, drew raucous appeal from the crowd.
Elsewhere, music videos like “Donde Esta Mi Gato?” and “Still Love You” took the visual approaches to filmmaking and tied them to dynamic, and Spanish, vocal performances.
And no festival is without its intensive dramas. “Mother Warrior” depicted the daily struggles of a working class mother through spoken word and a sped-up handheld camera while “Focus” addressed campus addiction to ADHD medication. It was also adorned with colorful special effects, no easy task to complete in just a week.
“The competition pushed us to try and create a film that was not only visually powerful, but also communicated our story effectively within the five minute time limit,” sophomore “Focus” director and cinematographer Joshua Lewkowicz said.
But ultimately, only several films could secure the CMF’s award adoration. Best Actor went to freshman Steven Munoz for his portrayal of the struggling, medicated artist in “Focus,” while Best Actress was given to Olivia Nakamura for her panicked performance in “Phobic.” For Best Comedy film, the Latin ballad “Donde Esta Mi Gato?” took home the gold. Conversely, “Living Life With No Regrets,” a documentary on local lives and their lack of lament, won the Best Drama award.
Finally, the crowning of Best Picture went to Lewkowicz’s own “Focus,” accompanied by his sophomore special effects designer Andrew Kuserk.
With the festival’s conclusion, these winners will move on to compete in CMF Hollywood’s national competition. And for those who were unable to attend, all 16 films can now be viewed online at Campus Movie Festival’s TCNJ page.
Although this year’s campus competition is over, its absence should not deter student filmmakers from furthering their passions behind and in front of the camera.
“Don’t stop making films. The best way to improve and learn about this trade is to practice and hone your skills. Campus Movie Fest was an incredible opportunity to learn and share experiences and talent with other people who love making films as much as we do,” Lewkowicz said.
(04/30/13 4:20pm)
What “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” lacked was a runway and baskets for donations. What the Brower Student Center had was all of “Rocky Horror’s” flare and the chance to bask student drag talent in charity. That’s because on Thursday, April 25, the annual Drag Show, hosted by PRISM and the notorious Ms. Rosetta Stone, turned heels on the catwalk into support for LGBTQ support and awareness.
At first glance, a roaring drag show outside the College Bookstore may have been off-putting to potential buyers. Shopping to crossdress may not have been their first intention, but drag is all in the entertainment of the show. Where else will you see your boys strut in skin-tight dresses and your women swagger like men?
And where else will you see a well-dressed and permed drag queen arrive on a throne of four shirtless servants? This was the arrival of the evening’s host senior Taylor Enoch, better known by his drag name Ms. Rosetta Stone. In a black dress and a “pair of hard tits,” Enoch introduced the room to drag culture and the show to come with “Let’s Have a Kiki,” sashaying alongside Michael Giordano and Adam Fisher.
He also laid out the need for donations. While audience proceeds would dictate which act won by the end of the night, they would also be used to benefit the local Triad House. Seen as the big yellow house down Pennington Road, the Triad House houses homeless in the LGBTQ community and works to counteract neglect and abuse committed against those of different sexual orientations. It’s also the only organization of its kind in New Jersey.
In support of its mission, the Triad House drew cheers, cash and even flying cookies from the crowd.
Specifically, those cookies were thrown to David Sanchez’s voluptuous “Davida,” a cabaret lipsync of Queen Latifah that would go on to earn over $180 and first place bragging rights. The more he stripped — shedding a sparkling gold dress down to a thin, black gown — the more he raised.
But Davida’s fellow drag queens were just as successful at pleasing the crowd. Coming in second place with $88 raised, sophomore Jack Meyers’s “Sasha Stardust” shimmied his way to “Werqin Girl,” while freshman Jordan Stefanski’s persona “Taylor Hamm” towered over the crowd, near seven feet tall and $85 in his box.
Twelve musical acts comprised the show, ranging from spontaneous audience dancing to a rendition of the Lonely Island’s “Jizzed in my Pants.” Freshman Andrew Edelblum even received the greatest honor of the show: a surprise lap dance on stage from the “Express Girls,” Stefanski, sophomore Kari Gilbertson, and freshman Raya Brashear-Evans.
All the while, Ms. Rosetta Stone helped educate the crowd on drag culture and terminology, including equal parts information and good-natured sass.
“Drag isn’t just for men, it’s for everybody. Try it sometime!” Stone said. “Because just like Rupaul says, ‘If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?’”
And even through the off-and-on technical difficulties, PRISM’s drag queen team managed to collect $750 for the Triad House by the end of the night. It signified profound support from audience members toward both the performers and the cause at large.
“The Drag Show symbolizes the compassion in our community. The audience and performers were all diverse in sexual and gender identities, race and religion but they all came out for two things: to have a great time and to support a cause,” freshman English major Rachel Friedman said.
(04/16/13 4:12pm)
The College is surrounded by Ewing and Trenton, two municipalities whose safety records can cause concern for some students. But students do not let this stop them from traveling campus by night.
“I feel extremely safe walking around at night, and I’ve never had an issue with coming home late from the library, meetings or anything of the sort,” said Catherine Tung, a freshman political science major.
What many students forget, though, is the presence of the College’s blue light emergency phone system. In daylight, they appear as nothing more significant than faux telephone poles with blue beacons on top, mini lighthouses on forlorn pathways. Passing students may notice the red button glaring in the middle, yet never consider having need to press it. But, at all times, they are operational safety resources. The question, then, is how safe do they actually make the campus.
Blue light emergency phones have been prolific on college campuses for over two decades. The College installed them before 1993 and over the years have added to the number of phone locations around campus. They can be found, for example, outside all residence halls, near parking decks around campus and on various sidewalks, such as the path running between Bliss Hall and the Social Sciences Building.
All a student in hypothetical danger needs to do is press the red button and speak into the microphone; campus police will immediately be phoned and a trained 24/7 Public Safety operator will be at one’s disposal. From here, and depending on one’s location, campus police may arrive in a matter of minutes. Students can also call for police escorts when feeling unsafe or uncomfortable, earning a campus walking companion at any time or place.
How students apply the emergency phones, however, has had less to do with real emergencies. 2012’s statistics reflected hardly any egregious instances that put students in danger: out of the 57 calls put through to campus police, 46 were “accidental activations or hang-ups.” These could range from prank calls to a student’s childlike curiosity to press a bright red button.
Aside from this majority, eight calls were to report stuck elevators, one call for a noise complaint, one for missing car keys and another one for a misplaced computer.
Use of the phones is not the whole indicator of campus crime, though. The latest Campus Police Crime and Fire Security Report from 2011 reported six aggravated assaults, one sexual offense, six burglaries and four motor vehicle thefts, all located on campus. Although 2012’s campus crime figures have not gone public yet, it is obvious that more incidents occur than the emergency phones hear about.
More notably, public perception of the phones’ ability to prevent a present danger are mixed.
“Despite me feeling safe, if someone were to be chasing me, I wouldn’t stop, hit the blue button and wait to speak with Campus Police. The chances of me running away are exponentially higher than me turning to Campus Police for help,” Tung said.
Critics of the blue light system have noted that standing phones are outdated and costly in an era of cell phones and Twitter. The College lacks specific data on the telecommunications costs for the system, but continuous replacement of failed phones or burnt-out light bulbs contribute to the annual maintenance fees.
Many have also encouraged expanding the College’s cell service coverage so that students can individually respond from their own devices; as it stands, a lagging Verizon service pins down the ability to send and receive messages with haste. If the College were to shift costs from old emergency phones to improved Wi-Fi and cell coverage, many contend that students would actually be safer.
Although their deterrence of crime is disputed, emergency phones are still an asset to the administration. Safety and security reviews, which include the blue light systems, are conducted semi-annually and often recommend new locations and updated maintenance. Campus security has also been investigating projects to add emergency phones inside residence halls and develop cell phone apps to spread emergency information quicker.
“Safety and security of the campus community is a top priority of the College. Because these phones contribute to the safety of the campus, the investment is well worth the cost of operating and maintaining the system,” said Matthew Golden, associate vice president for communications.
No one hopes to find themselves threatened by unforeseen circumstances on a late night stroll home. If the situation were to ever arise, though, the Blue Light System remains active for their protection. These phones stand silent and quite forgotten on a daily walk to class, but behind each intercom sits an operator awaiting your call.
(04/16/13 2:47am)
By Tom Kozlowski
Opinions Editor
If you’ve forgotten that a gun control debate was raging across the American polity, then it’s because its conclusions have been so shamefully disappointing. Only two examples need illustrate the point: the recent Manchin-Toomey background checks bill and Rep. Steve Stockman (R-TX), defender of gun rights for newborn babies.
Both are ridiculous, but hold your anticipation for Mr. Stockman. As a culmination of five months’ debate and study, only one diminutive bill has made any progress whatsoever, and its lifespan is limited. “The Public Safety and Second Amendment Rights Protection Act.” Scoff at its name. It appeals to our gun touting duck hunters and our basic desire for security too, what’s not for Congress to love? Namely, the content. The bill, sponsored by Sen. Joe Manchin III (D-WV) and Sen. Pat Tommey (R-PA), would allow for extended background checks on gun shows and online sales, but nothing more. And as for any future progress we’ll make in Congress on the issue, nothing more.
Anyone actually concerned with America’s gun obsession refuses to stand up for stricter measures — magazine reductions, national uniformity in legal enforcement — all have been thrown off the table. For, election season is on the horizon and Democrats in conservative states fear for their necks. How red they’ve become.
Public polls show that Americans are in favor of increased gun control measures, but whatever those might be, we can’t find them. Even the most basic of compromises on background checks can’t get support from liberals. That’s because the appeals of Democrats and some moderate Republicans have been squelched by the gun lobby, career climbing and a clear lack of sensibility.
Now we close with Mr. Stockman and champion of logic. Last week, he tweeted his new campaign slogan plastered on bumper stickers that are sure to slow down Texas mental traffic. Please enjoy its brilliance below.