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I am old

My oldest just got accepted to BYU, and will be attending summer term. She'll be majoring in Chemistry, and hopes to get into Helaman Halls. Can't believe it's been 23 years since I left Helaman Halls myself. And since Hinckley Hall is now a women's dorm, there's even a chance she could follow in my footsteps. Of course, I don't think she'll be hanging out with people like I did, such as the football player (a transfer to BYU) who liked to urinate in the snow in broad daylight and occasionally defecate in the shower early mornings. To each their own...

Is there still some arcane rule about how athlete transfers have to live in the dorms at least one semester? What a bunch of nonsense that was.

Facebook Group for Helaman Halls 86/87

Yes kids, its true: we've created a group up on Facebook to start the gathering of folks who lived in Helaman Halls back in Fall 1986 to Winter 1987. Why? Because those were the golden years! Pillow fight, President (now Elder) Holland's fit over green industrial foam, nights at the Pie Pizzaria, lame Survivor concerts (who ever thought these white leather-bound bozos could ever fill the Marriott Center?), and countless Budge runs.

We're wondering what happened to everyone? Who hitchhiked down to Guatemala and then dropped out of school? Who is now working as a chiropractor in lovely downtown Orem? Who moved to Portland and won't return the phone calls of past roommates who thought they were good friends and THOUGHT they had left on good terms but just can't understand...and your parents don't understand why you're not returning calls either? Not that I have anyone specific in mind...

If you were part of the freshman year mayhem, please join.

Dorm Living

You know, there really should be some kind of matching process for roommates in the dorms. With all of the technological advances we've made in the world of online dating (no, seriously) you'd think schools would come up with some kind of pseudo-scientific methodology for profiling and pairing people. I would have gladly paid $4 (or more) for a choice of roommates.

I mean, look at this picture of me at my desk with my friend Dave putting his dirty shoes on my bed. Posters of Bowie, Power Station, and The English Beat on my wall. Across from me? Yngwie Malmsteen, Randy Rhoads, and Erasure. That's right. My first roommate Scott was a surfer from Florida, and we just didn't connect all that well. Nice guy, but we just never clicked. And so every little issue seemed to cause problems. Things like the fact he'd listen to his walkman cranked all the way up when he went to sleep -- which meant I had to listen to it too. Or the fact that I'd come back from class, and he'd be sitting on my bed with a friend....instead of on his side. Or the fact that he LISTENED TO HEAVY METAL AND GAY POP. Sorry, that just bugged the crap out of me.

It took me about 5 months to convince someone in the front office to let me move elsewhere, and find someone more compatible. I ended up rooming with a Grateful Dead / Bob Dylan fan named Wade from upstate NY. We got along great. Not surprisingly, Scott ended up with his own room.

Popsicles: Manna From Heaven

My diet during the freshman months consisted of Apple Slice, Cannon Center cream puffs, Life cereal, and missle pops. I always seemed to have a couple of the pops stashed away in my jacket, ready for any occasion. I usually stocked up at dinner time, and had perfected the process of slipping them into the sleeve of my trench coat, sliding them down my arm and into the deep, inner pocket. An average night pulled in 30 or more, where they were hidden away to my already stuffed freezer in my room. I'd eat them 5 or 6 at a time.

By the way, never do this with a popsicle, because apparently it made this guy perky. Just don't go into that dark place. Please don't.

Heritage Hall Surveys

My, would we ever get bored. We pray and ponder and figure out what the hell we should do to alleviate the boredom of being stuck in Provo. Hey, let's go randomly knock on doors and ask people for crackers. Sounds great, let's go. We'd head up to Heritage halls which were apartment like dorms up the hill from Helaman. Mostly it was lived in by a variety of females, so it was a good fit. We decided we'd tally a number of things. First how many people would actually let us in and give us crackers? Second, what type of crackers would we get. Third, were the chicks hot, thus requiring follow up surveys. If memory serves correct, we'd be let in about 95% of the time. The remaining 5% would look upon us as serial rapists or that they didn't speak English or some other bizarre trait. Mormons tend to be overwhelmingly friendly so we entered into the households with glee. The types of crackers were for the most part saltines. Not stale, but rather dry and bland. Occasionly, a wheat thin or ritz would show up from the top of a fridge where the majority of crackers were stored. Why does humanity feel that crackers need to be stored on top of a refridgerator? A study should be made on this phenomena. For the most part, the third issue of hotness was answered relatively easily. Most were your basic average BYU coed, cute for the most part, but no super models. They were left for either Helaman or Deseret Towers. Heritage tended to be the UTAH/IDAHO friendlies that were fun loving and cool. We met a lot of people this way, staying friends with many through out the years. Hell I dated one for several years. She was great, ending not so well, but no ill will. I think she married a Spanish major named Bill and moved to Missouri. Not sure.

Pillow Fight, Finale

Read about Parts one, two and three here.

So Brian, Preston, and I walked down the hill past the Tanner building, back toward Helaman Halls where it all began -- all of us just a tad concerned about what we had created. We went into the quad and observed the mess left there by the crowd, including various cans and other debris -- and a lot of feathers from obliterated pillows.

Just then we could hear the voices of many people approaching, some talking, others singing. People began pouring back into the quad, pillows in hand. It was just after 2am by now, and yet you would not have guessed by the buzz in the crowd.

What had happened after we left the mob to their madness was best captured in a radio interview with a member of President Holland's family the next morning. He told the radio program that his family had been contacted at around 2am by campus police to alert them that a mob was approaching the house. Obviously, the words "a mob is approaching the house" has certain historical connotations for Mormons, so its no surprise that the family was a bit concerned. Apparently the Provo Police department had joined the campus police, and placed several cars inbetween the Holland's house and the approaching crowd. As the students arrived, the police asked over the loudspeaker for the students to return to their dorms. Some claim tear gas was threatened. So the radio guy asked "Well, what happened when the mob arrived." He responded, "Well, a group of 1500 or more students walked up, sat down, and started singing Christmas carols. And then they left."

That's right. No looting, no vadalism, no chaos. Christmas carols. Welcome to Provo, Utah.

What else can I say about our adventure that night? More actual pillow fighting went on for a couple more hours. At around 4am I got bored and just went to bed, but others stayed awake all night. A couple helicopters with news cameras were buzzing overhead, the local radio stations kept coming back to various students calling in, campus and city police were trying to get everyone to go back to their rooms -- but the major action had died down.

The next morning people encircled the television, where various news outlets from around the state and national scene mentioned the huge BYU pillow fight. Over the next week I was able to collect newspaper clippings from several places, and had friends from back east send me some, as well. The consensus was that we were "feeling our oats" and generally letting out some steam prior to finals.

A day later, President Holland wrote a letter that was distributed to the freshman class, stating how disappointed he was in all of us. I don't remember much more, although somewhere I still have it -- with the articles, and a clump of feathers I picked up off the quad grass.

But there was an aftermath. There was an investigation, although none of us really feared any repercussions. Some claimed their phones were tapped (give me a break), and several people on our floor were pulled in for questioning. Brian then stepped in and offered a plan. He had decided to leave BYU after the semester anyway and transfer down to a school in SoCal, so he offered to turn himself in and take the entire blame for it, removing some pressure on the rest of us. We thought it a good plan, and soon afterward Brian was officially asked to leave the school. There was some additional questioning for some of us, but this plan seemed to work. As far as I know, nobody received negative comments on their official records for their involvement, save for a few losers who got into a fist fight right in front of a patrol car the night of the pillow fight.

There were a few people, however, who had to pony up some cash for damages. Two real brain surgeons in DT tried to escape their building and join the mob through a second floor window after their lobby doors were chained shut, and they dropped the glass panel while trying to remove it. And then anyone who had a missing or damaged BYU-issued pillow at the end of the year had to pay for a new pillow. But that was the extent of damage, amazingly.

When I was home for Christmas, a good friend came up to me and reminded me of something. He told me "Do you remember a conversation we had before you left? You were reading the code of conduct for BYU, and there was something about 'Two or more people disturbing the peace in Provo constitutes a riot', and you said you planned to create a riot. When I saw the news about the pillow fight, I knew you had something to do with it."

Honestly, I think the one who had the most guilt about the pillow fight had to have been our RA, Sven. A couple days later I told him that it had been his story which had inspired us. Boy, that made his day.

Pillow Fight, Part 3

Go here for Part 1 and Part 2

When the crowd started surging east, heading toward the stairs near Stover hall, up toward the Marriott Center and the Deseret Towers dorms, Preston, Brian Paris and I all looked at each other, and Brian once again uttered what we were all thinking: "oh crap"

What could we do but join the crowd, and see where things would go? So we all ran up the stairs and past the Marriott Center, and as we approached DT, the crowd settled into a steady chant of "DT sucks! DT sucks!" over and over again, in a driving rythm and chant similar to Queen's famous song 'We Will Rock You'. We saw a few people run out to join the crowd -- and each DT patron who dared approach the crowd was instantly pummeled by 20 or more frenzied Helaman Hall-ers. People were rattling the double glass doors of several of the high-rise dorm buildings, but apparently, according to reports the next day, campus police had alerted the resident assistants at DT of our approach, and they had locked all of the doors before we had arrived. Some claimed the doors were temporarily chained from the inside to keep people from joining the fray.

Things seemed to stall for a moment, and then someone yelled "Heritage!" meaning the other dorms on campus, Heritage Halls. The mob was suddenly on the move, running south across campus. But people didn't stop in Heritage, where scattered people attempted once again to come out and join the mass, and were clobbered by dozens -- a buzz started running through the crowd to head over toward the southwest side of campus. And then someone screamed it, inciting the crowd: "President Holland!"

It was at this point that we stopped. The three of us were now feeling sick. Once again I believe it was Brian who spoke for us all "oh crap, oh crap, oh crap"

Part Four

Pillow Fight, Part 2

Continued from Pillow Fight, Part 1

I remember hearing a rather large-looking football player (Hinckley hall housed a few) saying "Man, I can't hit a girl." But that kind of irrational thinking didn't last long. I must have had the same reservations -- until a co-ed I knew very well, Marla, pounded me in the head with a not-so-light-and-fluffy pillow. After that, the gloves came off.

Merrill and Stover halls had emptied, and the girls were upon us, driving the Hinckley resistance from the hill for a few moments. But, fortunately, many of the jocks quickly came to the same conclusion that I had that, girl or not -- the hill must be defended, and pushed their way back through the crowd to regain control of the hill. The girls fell back, the Chipman/John hall folks also relented...and the Hinckley hall insurgents cheered.

In that pause before the next surge, I took a moment to look around. I was amazed to see what looked like the majority of the Helaman Halls dorms emptied into the quad. It was busier than I had ever seen it during the day. And it was obvious that the crowd was growing. You could see people coming from a few different directions.

And then someone put their stereo speakers to their window on the top floor of Hinckley, blasting some tunes. The crowd gathered at the top of the quad, near the music, when all of a sudden the announcer came on with one of our dorm-mates on the air, talking about the pillow fight. The multitude swarmed, people cheered, and the guy on the phone did what he could to incite the crowd.

By this time is was probably nearing 1am. The crowd was HUGE. There were not a lot of pillows flying now - instead, people would create circles in which 2 or 3 warriors would battle at a time, the crowd watching and enjoying the spectacle. It could have been a noon time rally before a football game -- the place was alive and loud -- a true spectacle.

We basked in the glory of what we had created.

A police car entered the quad from the west near Chipman hall, driving on the walkway. The cop was on his loudspeaker, urging people to return to their rooms. The crowd swarmed around and rocked the ploice car. A few guys pulled out water balloons and a surgical tube catapult, and started pelting the crowd.

And then chaos ensued: someone yelled "Let's get D.T.!!!" I was standing near Preston and Brian, who summed up all of the feelings of those of us who had started this mess: "Oh crap."

Part Three

Pillow Fight, Part 1

This is a fun story, for those of you unfamiliar with "The Great BYU Pillow Fight of 1986." It seems that there are a number of people over the years who have tried to take credit for starting it all, but here you will find what actually happened:

It was a sunday evening following the last week of classes before study week, prior to finals for fall semester, 1986. Brian and Jed were running up and down the hall beating each other with pillows, occasionally bursting into other people's dorm rooms, and basically annoying everyone. Sven the R.A. was in storytelling mode, and started to recount the tale of his early days at BYU before his mission when about 20 guys went out into the quad of Helaman Halls and had a pillow fight. Apparently, BYU security showed up, stopped the fight, and made everyone go back to their rooms.

So, being the juvenile deliquent that I was, the gears started turning in my head and I tried to pressure a few people into starting a pillow fight in the quad at midnight (which meant it'd be Monday -- no breaking of the Sabbath). First response from Brian and Jed and others on my floor was flat -- they'd show up if other people showed up. So I took another tact - I began to call John Hall and Chipman Hall, daring people to be there. Back in those days, phone numbers in each dorm were serial, for example room 200 would have a phone number of 555-0400, room 201 would be 555-0401, and so forth. So after about 50 calls, people on my floor were finally beginning to get excited. In fact, Jed and Brian began running up and down the halls of different floors in Hinckley Hall.

At midnight, about 25 or so of us made our way out into the quad, pillows in hand. We stood at the top of the quad, the Cannon Center stairs to our backs, perring down the quad toward John and Chipman halls. On our left, Hinckley Hall was wide awake, most people watching out their windows to see if someone would take us up on our challenge. Suddenly there was a cat call from the bottom of the quad -- about 30 or more guys started slowly moving up out of the shadows.

Suddenly we heard a door slam open on our left, and we turned to see people scampering down the Hinckley hall stairwell to join our defense at the top of the hill. Just as they joined us, the attackers fell upon us. Pillows were flying everywhere. But we beat them off. More people were gathering from Hinckley, but it was obvious that more and more were arriving from John and Chipman, as well. But we held our ground - we defended the hill.

The throng down the hill regrouped and ran at us again. We stood our ground, screaming out in defiance of the crowd approaching. But suddenly, from our right and out of our sight range, a gaggle (oh I don't know how many are in a gaggle -- 20 or 30?) of co-eds hit our flank.

The girls had arrived....

Part Two

Popsicle King

Did anyone even notice that I did not eat any actual food for our entire freshman year? I think it took me about a week to find out that there was a lifetime supply of missle pops at the Cannon Center, and that while my meal ticket allowed me in the front door, it did not force me to eat anything I did not like. And what I liked were missle pops. I often wore my trench coat to dinner, because I found that my wide inner pocket could hold about 2 dozen missle pops. I also found that when I cranked my small refrigerator in my room up to high, it could keep 100 or so missle pops chilled rather nicely, to be eaten throughout the following day.

Of course, since I was all hopped up on sugar from the night before, I rarely if ever had breakfast. About mid-semester someone mentioned that I could use my meal ticket to get a free bag lunch, which included a cold sandwich, an apple, a cookie, and two sodas. Ah, it was a simpler time, when Apple Slice was plentiful on campus...and so that was all I ever selected.

Apple Slice and missle pops. Mmmmm.

My Bishop at the time was the guy who ran the Cannon Center (in 1986-87). Wish I could remember his name...