Move in Day

Tomorrow morning when I drive up the hill on Bull Street and turn into the parking garage on my way to do my WUSC-FM show, I anticipate delays. Tomorrow is the first student move in day at the University of South Carolina for the fall semester. Gone are the days of the leisurely search for a parking space in the empty garage, I will be dodging freshmen and parents pushing carts laden with clothes, TVs, coffee makers and computers. It will be mayhem and not necessarily controlled mayhem. If I can make it unscathed as far as the patio between the Student Health Center and the Russell House, I’ll be good to go.

The production audio console at WUSC AM in 1963. It will be a nervous time for all those fresh faces, just like it was for me some 56 years ago. But that is the as far as similarity goes.

Tomorrow, the university will have its ambassadors deployed to make the process as smooth as possible. There will be extra muscle to help carry everything to the dorm. There will be smiling faces to be sure that everyone knows where to go and what to do. If tradition holds, one of those faces will be the new President of the University. The dorms will be open early and the campus police there to make sure that traffic flows smoothly to and from the unloading zones.

It should all be familiar territory to the new students and their parents. All spring and summer long, they wandered around campus during college visits and orientation being led by the same ambassadors who will be moving them in tomorrow. They already know the beauty of the Horseshoe and the special place near the Russell House where the sound of claps are transformed to something like the noise a Star Wars blaster makes. Acoustics are a strange and wonderful thing.

That’s a far cry from my move in day experience. When I arrived in Columbia that early September morning, I had never seen the university. In fact I had only seen the city once from a train the summer between my sophomore and junior high school years as the Silver Meteor passed through between the tidewater area of Virginia and Jacksonville. My cousin Harlo and I had helped my Aunt Mally move from Jacksonville to Newport News and were on the way back home. If I had known that a little over a year later I’d be living there I would have paid more attention to the city.

My parents drove me to Jacksonville’s Union Station at the corner of Park and Bay Streets around 9:30 PM on September 1st. I arrived at the quaint Seaboard train station on Gervais St. in Columbia around 6:30 AM and took a Yellow Cab to the corner of Devine and Sumter Streets where my dorm was waiting for me. In retrospect I could have walked it because I had only two suitcases with me. But not knowing my way around town yet the cab ride was worth every penny of the $2.50 fare.

It was cool and crisp when I was let off on the deserted sidewalk outside the dorm. There was a note on the locked door that said that they would open at 8:30 for housing registration and move in. So my first morning started with me sitting on my suitcase near the door watching the city come alive. Being Columbia in 1963, it was a lot quieter and slower than the beginnings of rush hour these days. A handful of cars slicked through the oak leaves on the road as they made their way to their assigned campus parking spaces. Slowly but surely a few other guys from out of state joined me as they arrived by car or taxi. There were no women in the crowd they were on the other side of campus moving into the Women’s Quadrangle and the South Buildings. I saw my first SCE&G bus make its initial circuit of its route the early morning light. The rush of arrivals would not happen until around 10 or so. By that time, I would be moved in, have collected my linen and made my way across Davis Field to the Russell House, collected my pre-paid meal ticket and be eating sausage, scrambled eggs, grits, toast and orange juice. “At least I won’t be going hungry”; I thought as the day grew bright and sunny.

Later that day would come the first of two days of orientation, and that afternoon after lunch in the Cafeteria, a walk over to Hamilton College on what was the other side of the campus back then to meet my fellow ROTC Midshipmen, be sworn into the Navy, be assigned my rifle, books and uniforms and be assigned to the Drum and Bugle Corps of the Battalion, a gift from my high school band experience. When they found out that I had been drum major and know how to march, I was assigned the post position of the block formation right off the bat. At least I would have an unobstructed view as I marched.

I was pretty tired after lugging my heavy duffle bag back to the dorm and getting my uniforms over to the tailor across the street for fitting and sewing on the insignia. I was sure glad I did that first because some of my fellow midshipmen had to drill in their civvies the next Thursday because the tailor was over loaded. I learned the true value of “first in – first out” that day. I hit the sack pretty early that night because orientation would start bright and early the next morning and then that afternoon the three day class registration process began. That is another story. Yes, it really took three days and was a study in frustration, despair and Hollerith cards.

It was the next morning, walking over to the Student Union building for breakfast with a bunch of other guys, that I met Steve who was a Junior in the Air Force ROTC and most importantly for my future, was the chief announcer of WUSC Radio. WUSC was a carrier-current AM station at the time broadcasting to the campus and the surrounding neighborhoods. He invited me after breakfast to come see the station before the final morning of orientation. That visit hooked me and within a couple of months, I was trained and had my own once a week show on the station, and I was off to a lifelong love of broadcasting.

WUSC is the other thing that has changed over the 56 years since my first day on campus. It’s now a Class A FM station that covers four counties in the Midlands of South Carolina. The studios have moved down the third floor hall into the section of the West Wing that did not exist back in the day. No more tape or cart machines but there are still a pair of rarely used turntables. There are three CD players and a full blown automation system for when a live DJ is not available. Most importantly for me anyway, there is a port on the side of the Audio Console’s desk where I can plug in my oldies laden laptop.

So, I’ll head out a little earlier in the morning to make sure that I’ll have time get through the move in crowd, hook everything up, take my “Rockin’ Socks” picture for Facebook and take a breath before doing some “Old School” radio!! Oh MY!