Today is the final day to make
changes in grade options for
winter term, at the registrar's of
fice, Oregon Hall.
Vol. 79. No. 103
Eugene, Oregon 97403
Friday, February 17, 1978
EMU Food Service $87 in the black
By CAROLYN BEAVER
Of the Emerald
The EMU Food Service “is in the black for
the first time in I don't know how many
years," said EMU Director Adell McMillan at
an EMU Board meeting Thursday after
noon.
An EMU administrative report of “re
venue producing areas,” noted the food
service is ahead $87; this is significant
when the previous three years' deficits are
taken into consideration.
According to Dusty Rhodes, EMU Board
Chairer, three years ago the EMU lost
$41,000, mostly due to the food service
deficit. Two years ago the figure was
$17,000 and last year it was $10,000.
, “As we spend more than we can take in,
we run up a debt on a revolving account
with the State System of Higher Educa
tion," Rhodes said. The fact the food ser
vice is now making instead of losing money
will lower that debt considerably, he con
tinued.
Rhodes suggested the main reason for
the food service turn around was Food Ser
vice Director, James Covington, who was
hired last year. He, Rhodes said, has intro
duced more efficient business policies.
Of the other four revenue producing
areas in the EMU, Oregon Wilderness
Supplies (OWS) was the only one to turn a
profit. From the beginning of the fiscal year,
July 1, to Jan. 31, OWS is $466 ahead.
The Main Desk is $4,500 in the hole, the
Recreational Center is down $26,730 and
the Print Shop has lost $6,967. Rhodes said
the ‘ games center" is the chief culprit in the
Recreational Center loss.
Two new EMU Board members were ap
pointed at Thursday’s meeting to fill spots
left by former Board Chairer Don Steele and
Food Service Subcommittee head Kari
Leitz. Chosen were Mark Zimmerman, a
graduate student in interdisciplinary studies
and Randy Holmstrom, a junior in Recrea
tion and Park Mangement.
Zimmerman formerly attended the Uni
versity of Massachusetts and was on the
College Union Board of Directors there.
Rhodes called him a creative "idea person”
and said he was interested in space alloca
tion and food service management.
Holmstrom, newtothe University lastfall,
was active in college union affairs at Mount
Hood Community College. His interests,
said Rhodes, include making sure students
are not “hassled with unnecessary prob
lems” and making the EMU more aesthetic.
In other business the Board announced
international smoking signs in EMU colors
had been ordered and will be posted
throughout the building in attempts to better
enforce non-smoking areas.
The Board noted that Women's Re
source and Referral Center will be moving
to Room 336.
I unnel maze links campus buildings
Workmen
traverse
subworld
By JOCK HATFIELD
Of the Emerald
Beneath the pine-covered skin
of the University exists an elab
orate network of tunnels.
These tunnels, offering under
ground access to every building
on campus, carry the University's
life blood. Telephone, electricity
and steam wind in bowel-like
pipes through the four-by-seven
foot tunnels. No disfigured exiles
prowl these passages, but
maintenance men and cock
roaches walk the twists and turns
regularly.
In the early 1970’s these tun
nels were the place to be. Univer
sity students would take acid or
smoke pot, descend into the tun
nels through an open entrance by
Susan Cambell hall, and freak out
on pipes and dripping walls.
“We’d go down there with a
flashlight,” recalls one former stu
dent. “Sometimes we’d have to
crawl but mostly we could walk
along. You could go down there
and meet 15 or 20 other people.”
Tunnel cruising beat the soda
fountain as a meeting place, and
offered students an entirely differ
ent perspective on the University.
Pipes, cockroaches, machinistic
hissings: this was reality.
But things have changed in the
last few years, according to physi
cal plant director Harold Babcock.
The entrances are all heavily
chained and regularly checked.
Only maintenance men have seen
the tunnels for several years. "It’s
a bad place to be if you don’t know
where you are." says Babcock.
‘There's 3.38 miles of tunnel
down there. There are hot pipes
and wires. Going into the tunnels
is an easy way to get killed."
Earlier this week. Babcock a
greed to lead four Emerald report
ers on a tunnel tour. Babcock,
himself wary of the tunnel, brought
along an experienced mainten- *
ance man. Jim Kelly, just in case. <
in days gone by, these eerie underground passages were havens
for drug-tripping University students who were anxious to gain a differ
ent perspective on the campus. Today, however, access to the tunnels
Photo by Greg Gawtowski
is closely guarded and the only tripping is done by workmen who must
occasionally stumble over the many pipes and wires that protrude out
from the dark, dingy walls.
“I know these tunnels like the back
of my hand," said Kelly before de
scending. I've been all over'em."
From the physical plant, the
tunnels divide in two directions.
The old section heads under the
Millrace to the center nf campus,
offering underground access to all
central campus buildings, includ
ing Johnson Hal! and the EMU.
Babcock led the reporters into this
section first.
“It’s hotter than hell down
there,” said Babcock looking
down a twenty foot deep catwalk
which leads to the tunnel below.
‘In the summer the steam pipes
neat it up to 126 degrees.
From below, the sound of tricki
ng water reverberated. Babcock
descended the spiral metal stair
case and slipped in a rusty pool of
water. The tunnel leaks when it
goes under the Millrace. he ex
clainec We have to pump it out"
The temperature had increased
ibout twenty degrees in the des
:ension. This here is the electric
line, tins is me steam line... The
pipes headed down the tunnel,
disappearing in the dark. Babcock
and the reporters balanced in the
middle of a puddle on a plank of
wood. "We ll take a different tun
nel under the Millrace, he said.
"In this one wed have to crawl
under the Millrace.
The University tunnels have
been around almost as long as the
University. As the number of build
ings increased, so did the need for
power, and the tunnels. The
labyrinth, according to Babcock, is
still growing. A second tunnel
under the Millrace has been con
structed witnm the last five year?.
Babcock led the way down this
newer tunnel. We re under the
Millrace now " he said moving
down the cement hall. Lightbulbs
governed by small switches in the
walls lit the way. Class of 29
read red spray painted grafitt;
Water and salt deposits oozed out
of the cement Large p.pes pro
truded like fallen trees across the
path. Faucets and handles
spewed steam. A rusty pipe
belched in cadence.
"Sometimes the steam will con
dense on the roof, drip down the
back and burn ya," recalls Kelly.
.“I’ve had that happen to me.
We re on the corner of Thir
teenth. next to the administration
building now.' said Babcock, indi
cating the roof. The tour had cros
sed Franklin Boulevard 20 feet
underground, through a tunnel
drilled in solid rock "Over there is
Carson Hall," ne said, pointing
ahead
Large rubber pipes hanging on
the tunnel wall drooped like saggy
intestines. Manholes and iron
stairs revealed entry ways to build
ings and streets above ground.
I don t know what I'd do if I ever
got caught down here in the dark. "
commented Babcock. I ve
worked in the minns. I know what
real dark is. you lose you balance,
your direction."
Babcock momentarily flicked off
the tunnel lights, taking away the
pipes and the tunnel. A spear of
light shot down from a manhole
above. Water dripped. “That's
why I always bring along my flash
light,” piped Kelly. "Yup. never
without it.”
Rumor has it that former Pres.
Robert D. Clark used these tun
nels as an escape route during a
1970 student demonstration.
Clark denounces the rumor as
“one of those apocryphal tales
that have a lot of drama and no
truth.' The tunnels by nature
breed apocryphal tales, and cock
roaches
Babcock led the tour up toward
ground. "I feel like part of the Mod
Squad.” said one reporter, crawl
ing into the health center through
the floor.
Outside the sun glinted off pas
tel cars in the Carson Hall parking
lot Well, you've seen our in
nards, said Babcock, looking to
ward the ground.