Five Year Anniversary

Before going any further on this blog, let's just acknowledge the elephant in the room. I have slacked in my postings and hope to retain every last reader that may have given up on me during these past couple of months. Although it's no excuse for my blog-laziness, I have however noted that many of my fellow writers have been neglecting their duties as well. Apparently the next big fad is something called a "facebook", which looks at first glance to be a suped-up IM profile. I believe I'll stick with the blog craze that you all introduced me too and try my best to get back on track with it. This thing is just too much fun to toss to the side.

I need to first thank my sister for getting me a ticket to the OU game this past weekend. From the emails I've seen come across the college listserves that I'm still on, I know that it must have been hard to come by. Taking advantage once again of my half-day Fridays here at Basden Steel, I took off towards College Station and arrived there at about 3:00.

It was a lot more active on a Friday afternoon than I expected it to be. I made the obligatory swing by the AFC cubicle in Koldus and was proud to see more than sufficient representation at the famous "Cube". From there, I found myself walking through the MSC and then deeper into campus past Hart Hall, my old sophomore dorm, pre-air conditioning, thank you very much. The summer of 2000 was up to about 114 degrees for the first few weeks, and between that and a gallon of water a day, it turned out to be a great way to lose 10 pounds.

Eventually I found myself past Evans library and walking towards the front corner of campus. I had seen the Bonfire Memorial as I was driving in and intended to see it later, but since I had walked this far, I figured I might as well make the stop now.

Let me say congratulations to the designer and builders of that project, because they gave the event the recognition and justice it completely deserves. From the front entrance of two stones that state so very clearly the pride of the Aggie spirit and the final march-in to Heaven, I began to be transported back to that fall of 1999. The stone path leads you past a marker for every Bonfire from 1909 through 1998, with a well-stated dark stone that is inset to show the year it was disassembled in honor of President Kennedy's assassination. The gravel walkway merges with a large ring that encompasses 12 archways, each facing the direction of one of the victim's hometown. The face etchings and quotes carved inside these portals can't be described properly in writing. At the very center of the display is one circle plaque marking the location of the Centerpole and showing "11.18.1999, 2:42 AM". Just a little over two months into my freshman year, and that day is without a doubt one of the most memorable.

Around 8:30 the night before, Aggie Fish Club met for its weekly meeting. As a fish, I was just starting to get a grasp on the organization and learning more of what it meant to be an Aggie. Per tradition, we went to the Polo Fields as a group to meet with some of the Redpots, or the top leadership of the Bonfire building teams. It was pitch dark surrounding the well-lit Stack as it loomed high above us at about 55 or 60 feet with almost 4 of the 6 tiers completed. Small campfires lined the perimeter of the structure to warm both workers and visitors. Many of my friends, Corps and Non-Reg, were heavy participants with Cut, the process of taking down the trees to be used, and Stack, piling the logs into the wedding-cake design on the Fields. However, it was enough involvement for me to just have a door pounded in every weekend as the upper-classmen in Moses Hall on Northside would blare music down the hallways screaming to get up and out for Cut. You could tell their strict devotion by the multiple expletives they used in encouraging you out of your room. I didn't know much about Bonfire, but I knew that it meant the world to many Aggies.

We gathered around one of the campfires as the Redpots described the whole process. Students could be seen still in action stacking the logs onto the quickly-forming pile. The structure was immense and the work being performed was even more impressive. Some moved the logs into place, others steadied them, while several students sat in swings that were tied from the top of the Centerpole. They would maneuver themselves around the triple-grouped logs and use their wire and tools to connect them to the Stack. As the Redpots finished their talk and answered any questions, the freshmen and counselors stuck around for a while as we roasted S'mores over the small fires. People began to peel off to go take care of other things that night. As part of the last group to leave, I distinctly remember looking up at the stack and just admiring the work that was being done. What an impressive testament to the teamwork and camaraderie that exists at A&M. We left the site and turned in at about 12:00 that night, just as the last Bonfire shift was arriving. What happened after that was no less than a nightmare.

At about 2:45 am, I tossed around in my top bunk as people ran up and down the hall screaming and shouting. If you knew Moses Hall, you'd know that this could have been just another night. At about 2:50, my phone rang but I only barely heard my answering machine. "Hey Justin, it's Anthony your Fish Camp counselor. Hey man, just calling to make sure that you were alright. Call me when you get this." By 2:55, my phone rang again. With the third time as the charm, I woke up and answered the phone to hear my Mom on the other end. "Justin, you need to turn on the TV. Bonfire fell." At that time, A&M used one of its community cable channels for a non-stop broadcast of work being performed on the Stack. It had a camera mounted at the top of the O&M Building, one of the tallest on campus. My roommate and I turned on the community channel to see a slumping pile of logs with people and sirens scattering all around it. Reports that kept coming back to the dorm were incomplete. After all, Moses was one of the dorms assigned to work that night from 12 to 6. We were told that there wasn't much we could do, and no one really knew the immensity of the disaster just yet, so we went back to bed.

The next morning, even the sun was hid as the sky clouded itself in mourning the loss of life. Helicopters could be heard slicing through the air while covering the ground in aerial camera shots. Per routine, I went to my 8:00 class in Blocker, Business Math 141 with Professor Li Chen. Most of the students had shown up at class, but the room was even more silent than usual. A sense of shock covered the room. The professor sat on the front row, crying with a student. I later found out that one of the seriously injured victims was in my class. The workers who built Bonfire wore something called "grodes", a basic t-shirt with blue jeans that would, over several weeks, be covered by smell and sight in the mud and work of their construction. Scattered across the room were various students dressed in a dirt and sweat-soaked clothing who had come directly from the Stack. Within minutes of the collapse, they were part of the sea of students who could be seen running as fast as they could from both the Southside and Northside dorms. Class was dismissed, which became a common theme for the day. Making my way to the Bonfire site, I braced for the worst.

The situation was devastating. It was as if a massive giant had fallen to his knees and slumped sideways over the ground. My first instinct was to question why so many logs still lay in place. Could they not just maneuver the crane towards the stack and begin to clear the area? The tragedy was that students were still trapped among the logs, caught underneath the rubble. Moving just one log in the wrong direction or order would cause the entire fallen top of the structure to shift and cause tragic effects for those still not free. Students desparately wanted to help, but numbers made no difference in the complicated process of freeing the victims. Instead, the rescue workers put willing students in action of relocating what logs they could. Lifting each one typically called for people on alternating sides of the log that would carry weight on the shoulder. The football team could be seen assisting the worried students. Some of the most incredible pictures show them lifting the logs straight over their heads with great strength.

The gray sky continued as Aggies lined the perimeter at all hours of the day and night. Prayers were sobbed, friends were clinging to each other for comfort, and the tragic news continued as rescue workers constantly tended to the stack. The worst times came when several firemen and paramedics could be seen gently climbing the logs with a white sheet. Spreading it out to cover a hole they were creating in an area, the sheet gave some final decency and privacy to a limp body that would be pulled from the grips of the stack. Word circulated and tears continued as students learned of another lost life, often someone that they knew as a friend. No words can describe the chill that would flood down my spine when yet another person was found.

Total count for the tragedy eventually arrived at 12 dead, 27 injured, and thousands of crushed hearts. But the saga had only begun. So many stories exist for me to share. I could tell you how I attended an assembly of students in Reed Arena around the time the last body was pulled out of the stack, and how I've never heard such a still moment of silence, uninterrupted by any stray coughs or sneezes; just awe-inspiring stillness, reflection, and respect. I could tell you about a rousing midnight yell that should have involved the burning of that Bonfire, but instead led the Aggies to Kyle Field where head yell leader Jeff Bailey focused the minds and hearts of the grieving students on the football game against the texas Longhorns, reminding everyone that it was just a game and the memory and lives of those lost deserved our continued respect. I could tell you about the deep-seated rivalry between the Aggies and Longhorns that resulted in a victory for A&M; even though it was only sport, it meant the beginning of a healing process to thousands of students. The stories are too many to address.

But what I have chosen to tell you is because I have too often spoken to Aggies who are current students that do not know anything about the event. The story of Bonfire '99 should not just be locked up within a circle of gravel and walkway of stones. You need to know how it was. My perspective is even less revealing than so many more than me that were dedicated heart and soul to Bonfire and what it stood for. Media and the outside public would only see an event that brought students together to watch a fire, symbolizing A&M's "burning desire to beat the hell out of t.u." What should not be forgotten was that Bonfire was so much more. The Aggie theme in the whole project was not just the night that it burned. It was the whole process of a team striving together to build something greater than themselves, then to see all their efforts consolidate to provide an incredible structure for many to view.

Bonfire's future is uncertain and has been since the minute following its collapse. Reports would eventually find that flaws in its construction had caused the tiers to be improperly locked in place. The logs slid, causing excessive pressure to snap the Centerpole in half and send the Stack to the ground. Outside consultants and administrators investigated the cause through an authorized panel and eventually cited the root of it all with a "reactive" instead of "proactive" philosophy" ingrained in the univeristy's culture. Officials since then have brought issues such as risk management and active review of practices to the forefront of administration priorities.

The debate continues on the feasibility of Bonfire. Some students run a private project as an off-campus Bonfire. My views on this are not the point of my writing today. Aggies need to know what the history is. Others should hear at least one perspective of what happened during those times. And most importantly, I myself don't want to forget it. This event shaped my time at A&M and taught me within the course of a few days exactly what it meant to be an Aggie. My account is by no means the only view on Bonfire. Many were much closer to those who fell and the event that took their lives. But as we approach the five-year anniversary of Bonfire '99, I encourage you to visit the memorial and ask others that were there what it was like. Such a tragic event should never be allowed to survive only as walkways and arches. If you were there, please feel free to add your comments on your personal memories of that November.