College in the 80s: One Syracuse Story

By Dave Rotell

The girls' dorm rooms were filled with Patrick Nagel prints. The bars smelled like Polo and Giorgio. And David Rotell can still feel the soft grass in front of Hendricks Chapel on the quad of Syracuse University.

The 1980s are defined by the music, the movies, and the fashion. But for Rotell, going to college in the 80s was the ride of a lifetime. His stories from his alma mater usually garner one response: ""There's no way that happened."

When attending college, you assume every school in the country is just like yours—students enjoying antics while pursuing their degrees. But most of the crazy stories Rotell has heard from other universities sound like an average Monday or Tuesday night at SU.

The classroom education at SU was paramount, and the students were there to get our diplomas, but they also had the opportunity to learn about life. Many of them learned their most valuable lessons by making mistakes in college. Rotell made just about every mistake in college—some more than once—but those mistakes would shape the path he would follow for life.

He still relives those experiences with friends that he cherishes to this day. He can still hear their voices in some of the classic tales. "College in the 80s: One Syracuse Story" is a collection of gnarly, tubular, and bodacious stories from one of New York's finest—and sublimest—institutions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667833897

Book preview

SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY INTRO

I remember when I first traveled four hours upstate in New York to visit Syracuse University. I was exploring colleges in July of my junior year and was walking on the quad with our guide on a beautiful day and thinking, I love this place! Sometimes you have a gut instinct that says, this is right. This was one of those very moments, and I strongly felt it was where I was meant to be. I was exploring the Air Force Academy and Bucknell among others for Engineering and fell in love with the Syracuse campus on day one. Of course, this was also the month of July in my Junior year of high school. I am 56 years old now and still believe in those gut instincts in life. I was absolutely right on that beautiful 83-degree day in July before I started my senior year of high school.

I was adopted as an infant and raised almost exclusively by my mother. My genetic father was from the Austrian/Switzerland region and my genetic mother was American, originally from Seattle and living in Manhattan. I was born in Manhattan and grew up just outside of New York City in Rockland County but also had stops in Georgia, Mississippi, and Colorado before high school. It was tough for me to really have close friends due to all my moves through my younger years. When I went to Syracuse and finally had close friends, my friends were my family. Friendship was everything to me. This fact is very important in understanding one key part about me and everything that follows.

Much to the surprise of many of my friends, I am a very sentimental guy. I have a tendency to save pictures, letters, and memories of every sort. That sentimental side also showed in some of the music I listened to at times when the mood fit. My friends would have a field day if they heard me playing Phil Collins songs when I was taking a study break in my room.

Most of the high school students in the early 80s had watched the movie Animal House, which shaped our perception of college - but that movie focused on humor in the 70s on campus. The 80s were even better. MTV was a little more than two years old, and we were about to enter the full swing of a decade filled with everything at the highest volume. I still love to turn up the beginning of Dire Straits, Money for Nothing with Sting kicking off the song with his haunting voice echoing I want my MTV before the song explodes with energy just like the decade. MTV was completely different at the time and showed the music videos continuously and the VJ’s (video jockeys) were becoming celebrities. Nina Blackwood, Mark Goodman, Martha Quinn, Alan Hunter, and JJ Jackson were all well-known faces to us. The decade of decadence was underway.

As we enter the decade of the 80s, we’re about to enter a world that was coming out of the 70s that had classic rock and painful disco music and entering a world that was arguably the best decade of music in modern times. We were also ending our shopping at Chess King (retail clothing store) and putting away our Members Only jackets. Sure, I can still smell the Polo cologne and Giorgio perfume from the bars on a Friday night on Marshall Street at SU. I can feel the cold wind blowing against my face on the quad and still hear the crunch of the ice and snow under my feet as I walked to class in the winter. I can still see all the Patrick Nagel prints in the girls’ dorm rooms. I can also still feel the soft grass under my feet on the quad in the middle of the campus in front of Hendricks Chapel, laying out on a beautiful 75-degree day in early May. But, interwoven into it all of those memories from college was the music from that spectacular decade and of course my incredible friends in the 80s at SU. Hope you enjoy it.

FRESHMAN YEAR SEPT 83-MAY 84

ALL NIGHT LONG

Written and Performed by Lionel Richie

WELCOME TO BREWSTER ONE

My mother and I drove the four-hour trip to upstate New York the day before the dorms opened to students. Like most families commuting from the New York City region, including the Island (Long Island) and New Jersey, we took a similar route. Most of us took Route 17 out of the New York City area, many of us stopped at the Roscoe Diner, and then finished the trip up Route 81 North until Syracuse University and the city came into sight over the final hilltop. The key landmarks that initially stood out from that hilltop on Route 81 were the Carrier Dome, the Crouse College building at SU, Lawrinson Hall and the MONY towers in the heart of Syracuse (two identical buildings in the city of Syracuse). The MONY towers had the time and temperature displayed along with a weather spire on top of one building with a star at the pinnacle. We soon discovered that the weather spire was delivering a weather forecast. When the spire’s lights were green it was clear weather, orange/red-overcast, orange/red flashing-rain, white flashing-snow. In hindsight, we saw it lit white quite a bit.

We finally arrived at the hotel before the melee of moving in, and we were sitting in the lobby of the hotel when two freshman girls stopped over, Hi, my name is Robin.

Hi, my name is Dave, are you all ready for the big move in day?

We heard it was going to be an absolute nightmare of a day tomorrow. We’re going to be waiting for hours to get into our rooms, she replied.

Then one of the other students in the lobby stopped over and quietly whispered, Go there now at nighttime and you can get in. This was the best held freshman secret back then. The RA’s are in the dorms now and no one knows you can do it. Considering we had absolutely nothing else to do at the time, we decided to give it a try. Sure enough, we walked right in, and the dorm was empty except for the RA’s. I walked up to my floor on Brewster One (first floor) and met Rick Slater my RA who kindly showed me right to my room, Brewster 135, and started my first steps at Syracuse on a miraculous first step.

The next day’s chaos was all that we heard it was going to be, except that I was already settled in. One by one I met my freshman floor-mates. Little did I know that I would be forming a bond with many of them for the rest of my life. One of the first guys I met, appeared to be someone’s younger 13-year-old brother, in both height and appearance. I turned to him and said, Hey there little buddy, is your brother moving in today? Awkward silence followed with a very angry gaze.

After a very long pregnant pause he said, No, I’m moving in today.

I was so certain that this young man was no older than 15 or 16 years old that I replied, Dude that’s awesome, you’re one of those little brilliant kids that skipped grades?

The same angry gaze returned, possibly now as an angrier gaze. NO, I’m 18 years old!

Well, I was on my second strike in a hurry, Oh…. Well, I’m Dave, what’s your name?

I’m Jay, Jay Williams.

Pleasure to meet you Jay, sorry I thought you were a little younger. From that moment on, I called him Little Jay. I am 56 years old as I’m writing this book and to this day, I still love that guy! More on Little Jay later.

Next my new roommate broke through the chaos and I finally had the opportunity to meet Tom Eddins face to face. We exchanged the typical greetings and settled in. He was a music major and an incredible pianist. To this day I am still trying to learn how to play the piano and envy his skills. How cool would it be to walk up to any piano in a hotel and just start jamming with your favorite tunes.

This would be the beginning of a great chapter in my life and one of the saddest days in my mother’s life. She saw my excitement meeting all these future friends, gave me a heartfelt hug and started her journey back down south. I would not realize until much later how sad of a day that was for her between her own recollections of the moment and dropping off my own kids at college.

Back to Brewster One’s freshman move in day. The floor started to fill up quickly with Keith, Gordon, Marty, Steve, Bobby, Robby, Greg, the Hovis brothers, David, Linden, Tony, Clancy, Dennis, and a bunch of Pauls to name a few.

We saw one of the doors down the hallway with the name Laurie on it. We all thought, this may be a nice surprise and then found out that Laurie is a popular male name in Guiana. All in all, a very eclectic, great group of guys to start life with.

Directly across from our room lived two older students by the name of Hank and Chris. If you walked into their dorm room, it would remind you of walking into an older aunt or uncle’s house with the décor and furniture. Their personalities matched the room and were always very nice fellas.

FIRST DORM FLOOR MEETING

Our RA, Rick Slater, welcomed the whole crew and announced that we would be having our first-floor meeting in an hour after everyone got moved in and situated. As I was unpacking, my roommate Tom spotted a Halloween outfit from high school that I brought with me. He asked what that was for, and I told him I was Indiana Jones last year for a Halloween party in High School, full Harrison Ford outfit with a leather vest, hat, and whip. He said, You have to wear that to the first-floor meeting. I saw right through that fun suggestion just like years later I would tell multiple friends that it would be an outstanding idea to have your girlfriend’s name in college tattooed on their arm. Both equally nefarious moves but I did not care and went with it. We all went down to the end of the floor for the meeting and one guy from the other side of the first floor took one look at me and said, What a dick. I jumped up and so did he, but the fellas immediately jumped in to break it up before anything happened. Now first I must admit, I likely would have said something similar or possibly worse if I saw someone with that same outfit. That is how I met Bobby Lopez. I would have never known it at that moment but to this day, Bobby and I make sure we call each other every Christmas Day like family. I have been amazed at how many times I met someone, disliked them instantly and years later became great friends. I am sure many of my future friends could echo the same sentiment about me. Bobby and I still kid each other about that day.

Rick then asked, Who here has a girlfriend back home?

I confidently raised my hand along with a bunch of other guys.

Rick then stated in a very factual manner that most of your hands will be down by Thanksgiving and all of them will be down by Christmas. Apparently, I was not wearing my poker face with my strong disagreement, so he asked, What’s your name?

I replied, Dave.

Dave, you think you’re going to have a girlfriend back home after Christmas?

Without hesitation I confidently said Yes!

He gave me this look that might as well have said that’s adorable… then he said, I’d likely bet you don’t make it to October and smiled a very confident look. Don’t get offended, it’s a compliment.

I did not see it that way and remained very confident that this was a long-term relationship. Simply put, Rick was right, and I was wrong. This was one of my first lessons in college; older people on this planet are trying to help with their experience and they know that you likely must learn some things the hard way.

The drinking age still had not moved from 18 to 21 in New York in the fall of 1983, so almost everyone was legal to drink on campus. With that said, Rick’s second order of business was announcing we were going to throw a party for our first night with our twin dorm Boland (Boland was all girls and Brewster was all guys; most of the other dorms at SU were gender mixed). Tonight, we’re throwing a Beach Party with Boland 8. I was just hours into college, and we were already having a party at our dorm. I already love college!

Rick continued to finish off the rules for Brewster One. Summed up simply, the rules mirrored the rules on Bourbon Street in New Orleans that I would learn years later; essentially don’t be stupid, don’t fight, enjoy yourself and stay out of trouble.

Now this part would amaze today’s younger generations, but we had one phone attached to the wall with a cord for each dorm floor in the middle of the floor’s two wings near the elevator. When the phone is ringing, you pick it up and yell down the floor for that student; simple enough.

Later that evening we had a fantastic party with Boland 8. By morning, I was escorting my new friend from Boland off the floor, and I ran into Rick by the end of the hall. He had a grin growing to full Grinch levels as he said, Good morning Dave! He did not need to say anything else. Rick was proven right within 24 hours. Well played Mr. Slater.

The first week was a blur of making quick friends and learning about their hometowns from Manhattan to Boston, Jersey, Long Island, Baltimore, Switzerland, Guiana, all the way to Trumbull, Connecticut. Personalities could not have been more eclectic than this bunch and we were all thrown together to figure it out at 18; it was great!

Heading off to my first class at college I was nervous but excited. From Brewster we had to walk up the hill through these sets of stairs covered with clear plexiglass covers. We called them the habitrails after the hamster plastic tubes in their cages. The sun was out, and it was a crisp morning as I walked past the Crouse College building on my left and onto the quad for the first set of classes.

Syracuse from May until October is beautiful. I have visited many universities across the country, from Stanford to West Point. Syracuse University is still the best looking, albeit a very bias opinion. Sure, later in life I would realize that if I could move the campus to San Diego and keep everything else the same including the same students, I would not have hesitated. That said, I still would not have changed a thing if it stayed right where it was in Central New York.

The campus was bustling with activity. I realized quickly that many of the students’ families had more money than this poor kid from Rockland County. Most of the girls were wearing Guess jeans and Benetton was making a killing with sweaters on campus. Leggings with oversized shirts were also popular with the female students. BMW and Porsche certainly made an impact as well regarding transportation. The guys were more basic, the only variation with our jeans and shirts was whether we were wearing Timberlands or high-top sneakers. Both were untied and open on the top and outside our jean leg bottoms. As a normal 18-year-old boy, I was thrilled there were so many pretty girls walking around on campus and was enjoying it all.

Music at the time in the Fall of ‘83 included Journey, Lionel Richie with All Night Long, Michael Jackson, Bonnie Tyler, The Police, Def Leppard, The Cure, all the way to Spandau Ballet and Cyndi Lauper with Girls Just Want To Have Fun. The last one seemed to get the most play time when we were at the girl’s dorm parties. We made a little fun of that one, but we were usually having a good time when it was playing. Madonna’s career was about to take off during the next couple of years and New Wave music was just starting to break into the mix. As mentioned, I also noticed that many of the girls had Patrick Nagel posters on the walls of their dorm rooms, with a variety of brunettes with slick black hair and typically accompanied by black and purple color schemes.

As an engineering student my main hall was called Link Hall, but as freshmen, our classes were scattered on campus with many liberal arts classes. The first day and the days to follow were all filled with a nervous excitement as we were learning where to go, meeting the teachers and other students and attempting to organize college life into my new routine. I remember picking Brewster dormitory because it had an amazing dining hall called Brockway that had a great reputation for their food.

We were all instructed to go up to campus to have our pictures taken for our SU Student ID’s. We rounded up the guys and walked up to the quad on another gorgeous sunny day and jumped in line to have our pictures taken. When we received our SU Student ID’s, they had a full orange background on the card, our picture superimposed over the background and then our names and our social security numbers directly below the name.

Essentially my first weeks were a blur of discovering my class locations throughout the campus, buying books, organizing schoolwork, and meeting new friends.

HELLO RODNEY; DIDN’T YOU JUST GET OUT?

Each Brewster dorm floor in 1983 had a central lounge area with couches near the elevators where we would congregate when we weren’t in someone’s room. That very same area had large plexiglass windows looking out to a spacious cement patio between our 1st floor of Brewster and the girls’ dorm, Boland. Below the big windows they had small vent like windows that could slide open. One fine afternoon we were all relaxing in that very area when one of us spotted a guy climbing out of the 1st floor window of the girls’ dorm across the patio. He was carrying a small TV and a bag filled with the girls’ valuables from their room. Not giving it too much thought, I was determined to catch the burglar. I knew that if I went the long way, down the stairs and out the front entrance, that I would be on the opposite side of the dorm and have no chance of catching up to him. So, I slid open one of the very small vent windows and started to crawl through and outside. As soon as I was outside, he took off and so did I. I realized quickly that I was on my own and that this guy was fast. The thief had a good head start and ran down the hill and towards the city. As I was running, I spotted a Syracuse University security guard and I yelled for him to help me catch this guy. He yelled back, Don’t go down there! I kept going. He was right, and I was wrong. I unfortunately was 18 and trying to do the right thing. Technically I cannot use the 18-year-old excuse because trying to do the right thing was a repetitive error in judgment that I’ve made when it came to the category of my personal safety throughout life.

Back to the chase. As I was running, two interesting things took place as we continued into the project apartments near route 81 below campus in the city. Much to my surprise, I was catching up to him and almost as surprising, a random student joined to help me somewhere in the chase and was running to catch up. The TV must have been slowing our thief down a bit. I finally caught up to him and yelled for him to stop. This is the typical time that you would expect a criminal to turn, show his fear and admit he was caught and surrender just like in the movies. Afterall, I just wanted to get the girls’ property back. That did not happen. He did not look worried in the least and was laughing. Then he began to start yelling out in the projects to get everyone’s attention. Much to my chagrin people started coming out from every direction to help him. So, to paint the picture perfectly, I have this guy cornered in this maze of apartment projects below the SU campus in the city with another student that finally catches up to help me and within 20-30 seconds we are surrounded by at least 25-30 people coming to help this guy. That number was growing rapidly. This is where I realize that I have not fully thought out the possibility of this noble effort going awry. Not to mention, I have some student now with me that is in an equally lovely situation that is growing worse by the second. As all of this is happening, I can remember vividly that cherry on the ice cream sundae; my new burglar acquaintance was cackling in laughter. I initially thought, I have you and he comfortably thought, on the contrary, I have you. All I am thinking at this point is that there is no way this can end well. In fact, it will likely end very, very badly.

Apparently one good thing came from earlier in the chase when I yelled for help to the Syracuse University security guard that gave me sound advice that I ignored. He notified the Syracuse Police of the situation and requested help quickly. That was a very good thing.

What happened next was right out of the movies. Thanks to that SU Security guard, the Syracuse Police showed up, and they entered the scene in force from every direction. The police drove up over the curbs on the grass in the projects and suddenly I had at least five police cars with multiple officers enter the situation from every side with more backup showing up within minutes. They immediately looked to break up the growing crowd and then three of them came up to the main scene of us three. I identified the guy and told him what happened. The lead police officer then walked up to the Burglar and said, Well hello Rodney, didn’t you just get out of Attica? The lead police officer knew him well.

If I didn’t second guess this whole noble adventure enough yet, the moment the officer said that, I definitely did. As a New Yorker, you know that Attica is typically not a place where petty theft is handled. Attica was where the big crimes up to murder were handled. They handcuffed Rodney and put him in a car quickly and then the lead officer came over to me specifically and said, What’s your name?

I’m Dave Rotell

Well Dave, the good thing is that you just caught a very bad guy, and we’re going to need your help to get him back into prison. The bad thing is that a whole lot of people just saw you and based on your height alone, you unfortunately stand out. If you don’t have a weapon or something for protection you may want to grab something to be safe. I do not think he was telling me to go buy a gun, but he was giving me a quick assessment of my situation. He and another officer took our information and statement. The police write-up was simple because I never lost sight of Rodney right up to the moment that I caught up to him with all the girls’ property. I would be the prime witness because I was there from start to finish, which excused the other student’s need to be heavily involved. Then the lead police officer proceeded to tell me …and of course, don’t ever come down here again. He then put me and the other student in another police car and told the officer to get us the hell out of here and back on campus.

When I returned to Brewster, I thanked the other student and then returned to the floor and gave the men the full story. I always enjoyed the story telling, so it was a fun animated recap. In the weeks that followed, I received a nice letter from Syracuse University and then the court proceedings approached quickly. Most of it was uneventful but one key piece that surprised me was that the police brought me down to the station in those following weeks to identify Rodney once again. Since I followed him from the beginning to the end, without losing line of sight and caught him with the stolen property, I thought that all of this was unnecessary. The same lead police officer welcomed me and told me that it was time to identify Rodney and asked if I was ready. We have all seen the movies where there is double plated glass and there are 4-5 suspects on the other side of that glass in a room with a number next to them. Then you pick the correct person by their number. By the little that I knew about this guy’s prison time and dangerous past, I thought this should be safe. That is not what happened. The police officer escorted me into the next room where Rodney sat handcuffed in a chair, and I had to walk right up to him, face to face. Wonderful. He is looking into my eyes with a very clear unsaid message, do not dare identify me. Crystal clear.

The officer said, Is this the man that stole the property from Boland dormitory that you caught?

In my head I am just thinking this is a disaster…. Yes, it is.

I did not think the look he was giving me could get worse. It did.

I was done for the day there; we went through the court proceedings in the coming days, and he was back off the streets. I never went down to that section of Syracuse again.

EARLY WEEKS

During those first few weeks, we wanted to begin exploring the campus and one afternoon while walking by the bookstore, two credit card companies had set up booths for students to apply for a new credit card. Citibank Visa and the American Express had representatives handling each of their tables. The woman from Citibank told us as Syracuse University students, the applications were simple, and we did not need parental cosigners. Judging by the amount of money that was on campus, the odds were that both companies were very safe. We filled out the applications and our credit history was about to begin, for better or for worse.

Then it was time to check out the Marshall Street night scene, more commonly nicknamed M Street, and find a good place to hang out at night. Syracuse had an amazing night life filled with bars like Faegan’s, POETS (Put Off Everything Till Sunday), Maggie’s, Braggs, Buggsy’s, Sutter’s Mill, Hungry Charlie’s, and others in the M-Street area. We also had one bar on-campus called The Jabberwocky or The Jab for short. The Jab hosted several major musicians during its years - from James Taylor to Jackson Browne to the Talking Heads. Each bar had its own style, and some had their own traditions. While I was there, the Jab always finished the night with American Pie and Faegan’s finished with Sinatra’s My Way as their last songs. We felt it was our obligation to try them all out and for some reason, we gravitated initially to one called The Generic Bar (because it had no name). It was filled with freshman and disassociated artist types where the bartenders served pitchers of Kamikazes and pitchers of Alabama Slammers (yes pitchers, not shots) to accompany whatever beer or cocktail you preferred. The music was loud and mostly played New Wave music. We decided to claim this bar for our own during the initial weeks of our first semester. We commonly referred to owning the deed to the Generic. The biggest attraction for me was that a night at the Generic Bar was extremely inexpensive and I knew I would have to start paying for college on my own very soon. On my budget, that was extremely helpful. The nightly invite was extended to everyone on the floor and much to the detriment of our grades, we made it a bit of a tradition for many nights. Marty, Gordon, Jay, Keith, Bobby, and I attended quite a few nights, while Steve and others joined when they could. For some reason, it was common that Marty and Gordon would throw each other on the ground as sarcastic debates escalated to funny arguments. The debates ranged from everything from women to life. No one got hurt between the two of them, but they were