Birmingham Southern College - Southern Accent Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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A Moment in Munger A Guidebook By Colette Barrett Following the sidewalk to Munger I briefly glanced up from my feet and met Dr. Randall ' s eye. We quickly looked away, thus beginning the age- old rite of approach. Timing was crucial. As we crossed, we made eye contact, exchanged greeting, then looked away. The day was still, and the heavy glass door to Munger, with hollow voice, announced only to me. To the right of the closed auditorium the blue jester ' s stare misses a view offered by the door ' s window by only a few degrees. If the jester is dark, I peer through the window. The desks outnumber the professors in Dr. Franke ' s office. I believe the spare desk is for storage. I felt reassured that Dr. Franke uses our standard filing sys- tem. A flock of sorority sisters chattered past me as I ascended the stairs. On the landing to 2nd floor, Lucy Ricardo stopped me with her fixed face. I admired the exhibit a while longer and began again. A tall, thin boy bounded towards me. I dodged to the side. As he flew by I saw that he held a light-green slip. He was racing the clock to the Cashier ' s window. I decided 2nd floor was not the safest place to be on Fri- day. I puffed up to 3rd floor. Several students lined one side of the wide hall, across from the double door writing lab. Faint electronic beeps grew louder as one student walked out looking like a bloodless hunch back hiker about to descend Mount Munger. He reminded me that my own paper was due, so I caught up to my wander- ing mind and carried my paper down to Dr. Hoff ' s office. I waited outside for her visitor to leave, re-reading the information on foreign exchange and typists. I heard footsteps. A woman was buying a Coke from one of the machines. I wished the Newspaper had come out. If it had, I could have sat on the stairs and ap- peared to be engrossed in an article. The woman left with her Coke just as Dr. Hoff and her visitor left the office. I handed Dr. Hoff my paper as they exited. Then I pushed out the heavy landing door leaving my own echo behind. FTl Munger Jawn was pJush for ihe graduaiion ceremonies. Munger— 29

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Though most students fly down Munger ' s four stories following classes, English majors walk down the hall to the wriling lab where they spend many a late night. The high windows in Munger offer students in class an excels lent view of students skipping class on the quad. The towering columns of Munger point to ethereal planes as well as Dr. Ramsey ' s Ethnic Literature class. 28 — Academics Munger gets taller and taller each lime a student pains the four flights up it.

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Music Matters Culture At BSC By Megan Wells At the farthest corner of the campus, between the old gym and Ramsay, hes a mysterious isolated, L-shaped building, called by its inhabitants as Hill Hall. Freshmen who write mu- sic in the blank after the word ma- jor on their forms disappear into this building for four years, and then mirac- ulously emerge, blinking in the sun- light, with their bachelors degree. In those four years, no one ever sees them. No one knows who they are or what goes on in this building that compels them to spend all their time there. Is it the Moonies? I hate to be the one to strip Hill Hall of its mystery, but this building is actu- ally a very pleasant place, full of quite personable, if not main-stream people, and non-majors are actually quite welcome to join us as we learn about music and enjoy making and listening to it. Denizens of the music building do all sorts of things. There are bands to join, 2 choirs to sing in, small ensembles to play in, and private lessons. Upstairs there are classrooms and studios where a bright group of professors teach mu- sic history, music theory, composition, and private lessons. Classes are small .and a lot of fun — our professors often double as stand-up comics. One little- 30 — Academics known resource is a small electronic music studio for people whose creativity runs in a musical vein. Downstairs there are labyrinthine corridors lined with lockers and prac- tice rooms. This windowless maze is where most music majors spend a lot of time, which is why no one ever sees us. At 8:00 a.m. the pianos and organs crank up, and people begin singing and playing instruments. The noise often ri- vals the Chevy factory, and continues well into the night. As recitals and ju- ries draw near, people begin to mum- ble about setting up cots and sleeping bags in the lobby to save walking up the hill for a few hours of sleep. At these times of mass hysteria, the build- ing is referred to as Hell Hall, and people get pretty wierd. But the recitals are good. In the spring there are huge numbers of ill- publicized student recitals, which are open to the student body. At these re- citals, people who for past weeks have wandered in a practice frenzy, talking to themselves and looking as if they were hit with a hammer, walk on stage transformed, looking and sounding wonderful. There are lots of faculty re- citals and concerts given by outside performers too. These are free and list- ed on a board in the lobby of the build- ing. So now you know what goes on in Hill. Come by — we are performers — we love to draw crowds. FZI Lucy Thomas diligent]y prac- tices to learn her part in the concert choir series. Perfection and exceJJence are the basic requirements for Doc- tor Thomas as he rehearses with the B-SC Concert Choir.