Students behind the uniforms

Were you out killing people tonight?"\nThat's what someone asked sophomore Stephan Jerabek, a Reserve Officer Training Corps cadet, when he returned to his dorm room in uniform on a recent Friday night.\nWhile his floormate probably meant the remark as a joke, it reflects a widespread misunderstanding.\nAs anti-war feelings grow on campus, some students are unfairly associating the military -- and specifically ROTC cadets -- with pro-war sentiments.\nThe cadets are hard to miss on campus when they wear their military uniforms Thursdays, and when some people see the uniform, they see a stereotype.\nFor the cadets, it's an experience similar to what other minorities face on campus, said Lt. Col. Wayne Pollard, a professor of military science.\nWhile cadets say signs of appreciation have been common, they have also experienced hostilities in recent weeks. As one cadet walked to class, someone muttered "baby killer." Another found "neo-Nazi" written on a dry erase board outside his dorm room.\nCadets don't take different classes or get yelled at and do push-ups all day, as some students assume.\n"This isn't some little militia group on campus that happens to be taking classes," Pollard said. "These are Indiana University students."\nThey are here to learn and to become well-rounded members of the military, Pollard said. Many cadets participate in the debate about a war in Iraq, falling on all sides of the issue. And they're quick to point out that one of their main duties is to protect citizens' right to protest issues like a potential war in Iraq.\nThe cadets are preparing to join a volunteer army charged with defending the Constitution and obeying the President, and students should remember policy decisions are separate from the military, said Cpt. Heath Dunbar, an ROTC recruiter.\nAs many soldiers oppose the war as support it, but they have decided to be apolitical and carry-out the policies of civilian voters, Dunbar said.\nAnd while there doesn't seem to be a deep-seeded resentment for ROTC on campus, students sometimes don't appreciate its diversity.\n"People who stress diversity sometimes become narrow-minded," Pollard said. "They should recognize us as serving our country, protecting our freedoms."\nThey also might not realize IU's military heritage.\n"We should be as proud of that as we are the Kinsey Institute or the basketball team," Pollard said.\nEvidence of that heritage can be found all over campus, at Memorial Stadium and the Indiana Memorial Union.\nLast week at the Union, Second Lt. Casey Dean, who graduated last year, was giving a tour when he was stopped by a man who was waxing a floor in the Memorial Room.\n"Thank you," the man said after stopping his work and standing up. "I'll pray for you on Sunday."\nDean said he has never felt uncomfortable in uniform on campus, but a little appreciation goes a long way.

Party patrols should be open

When I first asked to accompany the greek party patrol for a night, I got an interesting response.\n"You're not greek, are you?"\nI'm not, and that's one of the reasons why I'm interested in describing how greeks now police the greek system.\nMy expectation was never to expose the party patrol as a sham. I didn't even expect to get dirt on the patrol. I just wanted some good background for a column.\nBut for three weeks, my requests have been denied.\n"We're certainly open to scrutiny, but there's no reason to allow a third party to come around on party patrol with us," Interfraternity Council President Evan Waldman said.\nWaldman said he's concerned that if he opens it up to the IDS, he'll have to open it up to other third parties, like chapter presidents.\nOnce upon a time, parties were patrolled by the deans. Then IU hired an employee with the single task of patrolling greek parties. He was let go last year.\nSo the greek system has patrolled its own parties since last semester.\nThe greek party patrol, composed of two or three IFC and Panhellenic Association executives, visits all registered parties in the greek system every weekend.\nThey look for alcohol and risk management violations, including obstructed doorways, wet floors, fire hazards and overcrowded halls. IU deans review the party patrol's notes every week and infractions are tried in the campus judicial system.\nWaldman says it's working.\nHe said the patrol doesn't ignore any infractions, even a few empty beer cans, because that would ruin the patrol's credibility. On the issue of IFC execs patrolling their own fraternities, Waldman points out that members disassociate from their chapters to serve the entire greek system. Plus, he said, members tend to hold their own fraternities to a higher standard.\n"We know we're doing the right thing and that's what matters the most," he said.\nIU Police Department Lt. Jerry Minger is more skeptical.\n"It sounds like a way around the system to me," he said.\nSo far this academic year, four fraternity parties have been busted by the IUPD, tipped off in most cases by noise violations. In each situation, students were arrested or tried through the campus judicial system.\nNone of those violations were documented by the party patrol.\nBut that could've been a coincidence. The parties were probably under control when the patrol visited. \nDean of Students Richard McKaig said he is happy the greek system is trying out self-monitoring since it has worked at other colleges, but it's too early to tell whether the party patrols have been successful.\n"I have a feeling that we might not always agree to the exact letter to what is a safe and reasonable party scene," McKaig said, "but we're talking about progress."\nThe party patrol is still new, and it's clearly committed to making the greek system safer and stronger.\nOpenness would make it even stronger. Scrutiny by "third-parties" including the IDS could point out what's working well with the patrols and what could be improved. It could also help outsiders better understand the greek system.\nThe offer is still on the table.

A lot of talk about porn

At the Union last week, Nicole ran into an old friend from high school she hadn't seen in about four months.\nThe last time they talked was at her off-campus apartment in late October, at a party she will never forget -- and probably never live down.\nWhen they ran into each other around lunchtime, Nicole and her friend didn't talk about classes, friends back home or summer plans.\nThey talked about porn.\nNicole, an IU junior, has been talking a lot about porn lately -- to people who recognize her in bars and classrooms, to her mother and to a porn actress who apologized for all the grief the film has caused.\nAt the bars, she's been told by guys, "We've been looking for you." On campus and in classrooms, she's experienced dirty looks and puzzled stares, although she said it's probably paranoia on her part.\nAt the local restaurant where she's a waitress, she occasionally gets larger tips from customers who recognize her and ask about her appearance in the porn film.\nNicole's afraid her parties will never be the same. Too many guys come, and they always expect a "porn" party.\nThen came the TV appearances. Since the filming, a clip of the film that shows Nicole has appeared on CNN, "Inside Edition" and "The O'Reilly Factor."\nNeedless to say, Nicole and her friend had a lot of catching up to do.\nHe was at the infamous party and had heard there was a film crew there, but didn't know what was going on.\nWeeks later, he was as surprised as Nicole when controversy erupted surrounding the porn crew that filmed at Teter Quad and off-campus apartments.\nEveryone from high school has seen it, he said.\nAnd although he teased Nicole about what he jokingly calls her "lewd and ridiculous acts," he said he still respects his friend.\n"I don't like you any less," he assured her.\n"You like me more," she said.\n"You're probably right."\nNicole's mother has been similarly understanding. She knew about it soon after the movie was filmed, but later saw a clip of the porn on "The O'Reilly Factor."\nWhen Nicole explained the circumstances, her mom was disappointed, but understanding.\n"I'm a big girl," Nicole said. "She cut the cord a while ago."\nNicole has also spoken to the pornstars since the film's release in late December.\nPorn actress and spokeswoman Calli Cox called her recently, expressing concern about how the controversy has affected Nicole. Cox told her the company felt bad and never wanted to hurt the students.\nNicole said they haven't.\n"I don't know who they're hurting," Nicole said. "The movie would've never been a big deal if IU didn't say anything."\nNicole said she doesn't think she was taken advantage of, but now regrets what she did.\nShe wishes it would all go away.\nFor students who might be offered the opportunity in the future to appear in a porn film, Nicole's advice is simple.\n"Don't do it," she said. "No matter how much fun or how hilarious it'll be with you and your friends, you'll get more shit than it's worth"

Echoes of porn film remain

Some unusual guests had arrived at Nicole and her roommates' off-campus apartment party, and word \nspread fast.\nStudents showed up in droves after getting word from friends on cell phones. People began piling up against walls, unable to move inside the four-person apartment. The keg was gone in minutes.\nThe IU junior had invited an adult film crew she met earlier to party at her place.\nNicole, one of only a few females to sign waivers to appear in the movie, says the filmmakers did not take advantage of her, but she now regrets participating.\nSince the filming back in October, a clip of the film that shows Nicole has appeared on CNN, Inside Edition and The O'Reilly Factor. Porn review Web sites have criticized her for not "going all the way." And random people seem to recognize her on campus, at the bars and at the local restaurant where she's a waitress.\n"It's a night of college that's going to come back forever and ever," she said.\nIt all started on a Friday night at a fraternity live-out house. Nicole and her roommate were among only a few girls at the house, so they were conspicuous to the film crew from Van Nuys, Calif.\nThe porn actresses had filmed sex acts with the guys, but wanted to "hang out" with some girls.\nSo Nicole, who was leaving to pick up a keg, invited them to her party.\nShe didn't expect them to come.\nBut when they did it was only the first surprise of the night.\nWhile Nicole hung out with the pornstars in a bedroom, her party was inundated with guys, more than she thinks she's ever seen in one place.\nOne particularly confident guy pulled aside a pornstar and told her he could "rock her world."\nHe was quickly rebuffed.\n"You know what I do for a living?" she asked, turning around. "You could not rock my world."\nThe pornstars preferred to let actions speak, holding competitions to see which guys could perform the best oral sex. The winners got oral sex, filmed in a private room.\nWhile most of the footage with Nicole is just her being, as she describes, "drunk and stupid," she also does a three-way kiss with pornstars, flashes her breasts and briefly engages in oral sex.\nShe didn't remember exactly what happened until she saw the movie.\nAfter the party, Nicole passed out at her apartment and the porn crew returned to their hotel room.\nThe next day the porn crew took Nicole and her roommates out to dinner to thank them for their hospitality. Footage from the meal made it onto the porno's outtakes.\nWhen Nicole finally parted ways with the pornstars, she got their numbers to make sure she wouldn't miss the video. Thousands of pornos are made every month, she reasoned, so how could this one have a shelf life of more than a day?\n"We had a fun time at a party -- it made our party crazy," Nicole said. "We thought we'd never hear about this again"

The last call

Big Ten referees can ignore the screaming tirades of irate coaches and emotional players -- even the boos of thousands of upset fans.\nBut when Dave Hurst thinks they got the call wrong, they listen.\nHurst watches the watchers, rating the performances of all conference officials who pass through Assembly Hall.\nA bad report card from fans might hurt a ref's feelings.\nA bad report card from Hurst could get a zebra canned.\nDuring a game, Hurst charts all the calls and puts an asterisk by ones he wants to look at again.\nAfter reviewing a game tape, he ranks referees as excellent, good, satisfactory or needs improvement in several categories -- including punctuality, physical condition, control of coaches and players and basic calls. Then he writes a paragraph about each individual ref's performance, addresses other incidents and turns in his report to the Big Ten.\nThe reports are used in referees' midseason and end-of-year evaluations to rank the league's officials from top to bottom.\nHurst is also an IU fan, but he views the games from a different perspective.\nHe doesn't watch the ball when he's observing officials. Instead, his eyes follow one official at a time up and down the court.\nWhen Hurst isn't on the job, he has to remind himself to watch the other teams on the floor.\nOfficiating crews meet before each game to talk about the teams and work out a plan. Each official is responsible for a third of the action at a given time, but the overriding philosophy is to make the right call, from wherever the referee is standing.\nBig Ten refs have to study four books -- a rule book, an illustrated "cartoon" rule book, a case book that provides "what ifs" and a floor positions manual that explains scenarios for where the three-man crew should be standing during particular plays.\nOfficials are tested on the books and must meet a minimum score to be eligible to officiate that season.\n"The average fan doesn't realize the officials have as many guidelines to live by as the team has plays," Hurst said.\nIU Coach Mike Davis often has questions about these guidelines, and Hurst is always willing to help out. In exchange, Hurst is given a tremendous amount of freedom in IU's locker and tape rooms.\nHurst has a good rapport with officials and a good understanding of the rules, said Associate Athletic Director Kit Klingelhoffer, who manages IU basketball games.\nHurst said it's exciting to see guys he knows officiating the Final Four, but finds it difficult to write up a friend for a bad game.\nStill, Hurst will always have a place in his heart for officiating.\nHe refereed high school and college games for 18 years, until a knee injury forced him to give it up. Since then, he has observed officials for eight years.\nWhen former Coach Bob Knight got him his current job as one of the 11 Big Ten observers of officials, he was excited about getting into the games for free.\n"I didn't find out until after I took the job that I got paid to do it," Hurst said. "There's nothing like being around Division 1 college basketball."\nNow, Hurst's friends don't ask what he thought of that game, that play or that crowd.\nThey ask what he thought of that call.

Dinosaur Jr.

Snow team battles elements

The snow they could handle. The cold they could deal with.\nBut the ice?\n"We'd be better off with 10 inches of snow," Campus Division Manager Dave Hurst said in his office Sunday afternoon, as he orchestrated the removal of ice and snow from miles of IU streets and sidewalks.\nThat battle continues this morning, as all of the division's crew of about 40 began another shift at 4 a.m.\nThey worked until 7:30 p.m. Sunday night, focusing on the roads. This morning, they began focusing more on sidewalks.\nCompared to the last few years, this winter has been extreme for Bloomington. But until this weekend the numerous few-inch snowfalls were mostly just bothersome.\nThe latest storm, which brought a mix of snow, sleet and freezing rain over the course of more than 24 hours, has been a more substantial challenge.\nWhen it gets this bad, everyone becomes a snow removal person, said Hurst, as he pointed out rough spots on campus from his Jeep.\nOn Sunday, tree trimmers brushed snow and ice off the steps of University buildings like the Student Recreational Sports Center. Janitors cleared snow off the steps and sidewalks surrounding their own buildings. Others spread ice melt and used motorized brushes to clear sidewalks around the Indiana Memorial Union, Main Library and other heavily-traveled areas.\nAnd in areas like the Sample Gates, where salt damages the brick, hand-held shovels and brushes were the only answer.\nThis time around, brushes have been more effective than blades, and a stronger, one-to-one sand and salt mix is working well, Hurst said. They had been using a two-to-one mix.\nThe ultimate goal is to get students, professors and staff to and around campus without wrecking their cars or falling on the ice.\nStill, Bloomington Hospital anticipates more injuries from falls today, said Karina McGuire, the hospital's emergency department coordinator. That's because most people stayed in on Sunday.\nIt was a different story for the campus division crew, which began receiving calls from Hurst Sunday morning. By late afternoon, about 25 had arrived to fight the ice.\nWhile several local church services and activities were canceled, that is rarely an option at IU, Hurst said. In his 11 years here, classes have been canceled only once.\nSo the campus division is doing its part, Hurst said.\nHe only hopes students will do the same.\n"What we can't control is how individuals respond to it, by wearing appropriate shoes and not riding bikes," Hurst said. "Common sense plays a big part"

Will a new law kick the keg?

Call it a half barrel. Call it 1,984 ounces of frosty libations. Or call it a keg. It's a staple of the college party. \nBut could its days be numbered?\nAt IU, the keg has always been a target of deans and police. Now, it's a target of the state legislature.\nKeg registration, already in effect in about 20 states, goes into effect here July 1.\nHere's how it works: Each keg will be tracked by a marker that contains a keg number, the name of the clerk who sold it and the name, address, date of birth and signature of the purchaser.\nIf the keg is used to serve minors, it could be tracked back to the buyer, who would be held responsible. If convicted, offenders who supply minors with alcohol face up to a $500 fine and 60-day jail sentence.\nSpecifically, the keg-tracking law targets college students over 21 who buy alcohol for younger friends or for parties where minors are served.\nIndiana's colleges worked together to support the bill and helped show the state's alcohol lobby that tracking will reduce underage drinking, said Dee Owens, the director of IU's Alcohol and Drug Informa-tion Center.\n"It's up to us to stop the supply of alcohol to young people and quit blaming them for drinking," Owens said.\nBut will the law bring down sales of kegs?\nAt Town Hall Liquors in College Park, Md., keg tracking approved in the mid-nineties hasn't hurt keg sales, according to the store's manager. College Park is home to the University of Maryland. \nBloomington liquor stores don't foresee a drop in sales either.\n"People who buy for underage people don't think ahead too much anyway," said John, a clerk at Bloomington Liquors.\nBulk keg sales are already down at the 2205 N. Walnut St. store, but overall sales remain steady, he said. One fraternity used to buy 30 kegs at a time, but now the most sold at once is about 10.\nAt Big Red Liquors, which has eight Bloomington locations, the long-term trend is toward more sales of cases, rather than kegs, said Big Red President Mark McAlister.\nAlthough keg tracking will require more record keeping, McAlister said his company is happy to comply to help ensure its kegs don't serve minors.\nIU Police Department Lt. Jerry Minger said it's hard to predict how the new law will affect alcohol consumption, but it's another way to track people who are responsible for alcohol that results in illegal or dangerous activity.\n"Anything that can be put as an obstacle in the path of people who do that is a good thing," Minger said.\nBut are the kegs' days numbered?\nProbably not.

Twins share space dreams

When Dave Tanner visits his hometown of Danville, Ill., the IU employee and Bloomington North swim coach is greeted as a celebrity.\nChildren pose with him for photos, and locals ask him for autographs.\nBut it's all a mistake, Tanner tells them.\nHe just resembles a famous person -- a shuttle astronaut and hometown hero. His twin brother, Joe.\nThe dream began on July 20, 1969.\nIn Tanner's apartment across the street from Memorial Stadium, on his tiny black-and-white television, he and his brother watched Neil Armstrong walk on the moon.\nNeither of them said a word. But at that moment, each of them saw that ordinary people can do extraordinary things.\nSince the moon walk, the seemingly ordinary 53-year-old brothers still strive for that ideal.\nNow the School of Health, Physical Education and Recreation coordinator of athletic assessment, Dave has climbed Mt. McKinley, ran the Boston Marathon and set a world record for swimming among 50-year-olds.\nBut he'll never reach what he calls "the top of the pyramid" as an astronaut, the dream he and his brother shared.\n"I'm far from it," said Dave, surrounded by his brother's mission photos and shuttle models in his HPER office. "He's there."\nDave has biked from Los Angeles to New York in 10 days. The space shuttle travels the same distance in 10 minutes.\nJoe Tanner has flown three space shuttle missions since 1994, including missions to install parts of the International Space Station and to repair the Hubble telescope.\nAs a NASA staff pilot, Joe applied to be an astronaut five times. He was finally accepted in 1992.\nDave was automatically disqualified from the space program, he said, pointing to his glasses. Still, he found a way to be involved, conducting experiments on his brother's flights.\nDuring his brother's first liftoff in 1994, Dave said he felt 100 percent each of fear, pride and love.\nThe fear subsided for the second and third flights.\nJoe was scheduled to fly again in late May, but that mission is now in doubt since the Columbia shuttle broke apart over Texas.\nDave said he has felt his brother's pain ever since.\nAfter the Challenger disaster in 1986, Joe flew the astronauts' families from Florida to Mission Control in Houston. Whenever an astronaut is lost, the whole NASA family hurts. As Joe's brother, Dave is part of that family.\nDave will talk for hours about his brother's accomplishments, but he's modest about his own.\n"In many respects I think his credentials are equal to anything his brother has done," said HPER professor Philip Hanson, who invites Dave to speak to his classes each semester.\nThat won't secure him a spot in his hometown's celebrity hall of fame or an invitation to speak to grade school students, but it has secured the admiration of his brother.\nDave and Joe Tanner have shared a lot in their lives.\nThey're both 6-foot, 2-inches and both had a web between their second and third fingers on their left hand.\nThey shared their mother's womb, and eventually, Dave wants to share retirement in Colorado with his hero.\nAnd of course, back in 1969, they shared a dream.\nOnly one of the Tanner twins made it to space.\nThe other was there in spirit.

Hail to the chief's perks

IU Student Association president Bill Gray was golfing with his grandma in Chicago this summer when the phone rang. \nIt was then-IU President Myles Brand, and he was not happy.\n"These bastards named us the No. 1 party school," Gray recalls Brand saying, as he embarked on an angry explanation of the Princeton Review finding.\nBrand thought the ranking was bunk, and Gray told him he agreed, so they discussed how to convince others that IU is about more than parties.\nAs IUSA president, Gray has the ear of the IU president.\nBut that's not the only perk of being the leader of the student body.\nThere are parking privileges and a private office, golf games with IU's honchos and the chance to buy tickets to the Final Four.\nAnd of course there's the thrill of representing 36,000 students.\nBut what is the real reason to run for IUSA president?\nGray says it's the experience.\nAfter running an election, speaking in front of 10,000 people and dealing with criticism that comes from students and pesky IDS editorials, he said law school or work shouldn't be much of a problem.\nIt's also an opportunity to network with deans, administrators, other student leaders and even state officials.\nAnd that means golf games and free meals -- everything from dinner at the Tudor Room to "business" lunches at Nick's.\nThere's also the stipend, about $4,500 for the year. But don't do it for the money, Gray says, since it amounts to less than $1 an hour.\nFormer IUSA president Jake Oakman said he got to meet a lot of interesting people during his tenure.\nHe also got tickets to the Duke game and the Final Four last year, since he had appointed himself to the athletics committee. At football games, the IUSA president sits in the IU President's box.\nAnd Oakman almost forgot to mention all the girls.\n"That IUSA office is like a revolving door of chicks," joked Oakman, who also enjoyed the office because it has a decent printer and is a great place to throw frisbees.\nBeing IUSA president looks great on the resume and draws media exposure; Gray was featured on a segment of "The O'Reilly Factor."\nBut the real perk is the parking.\nThe IUSA president gets a departmental parking permit, which allows them to park in any marked spot on campus.\nDuring his tenure, Oakman was known to park at Bryan House.\nGray, on the other hand, made a point of parking in Brand's old spot at Bryan Hall.\nOn one occasion, one of Brand's secretaries called Parking Operations and had his car ticketed.\n"Fortunately I was able to get that taken care of," Gray says.\nOne more perk of the IUSA president.

Tragic death shapes policy

Dee Owens, the director of IU's Alcohol and Drug Information Center, hadn't been in her position long when freshman Seth Korona died in an alcohol-related accident.\nSomeone had died on Owens' watch, and it made her angry. And she wasn't the only IU official feeling that way.\nOwens, along with several top administrators and deans, met to discuss the incident soon after Korona died Feb. 4, 2001.\nShe remembers, in particular, how Dean of Students Richard McKaig shared her anger.\nHe said he didn't want to make that phone call ever again.\nSo IU officials took a long look at the campus' alcohol policies and asked some tough questions.\nWas IU doing enough to prevent such tragic accidents, considering another student, Joe Bisanz, had died in 1998? What, if anything else, could the University do?\nTwo years ago, the death of Seth Korona refocused IU's approach to alcohol. Today, it continues to influence that approach.\nBut it's not as if the University turned on a dime or woke up to its alcohol problems when Korona, who was 19, died of a skull fracture after doing a "keg stand" at Theta Chi fraternity. IU was already a dry campus and had sought solutions from its Campus Community Commission on Alcohol Abuse.\nBut, as IUPD Lt. Jerry Minger said last year, the accident kept alcohol issues "at the forefront" of the University.\nAnd that's where they remain.\nMcKaig addressed the board of trustees Friday, explaining a new package of programs and IU's latest effort to address alcohol on campus.\nThe key initiative is called Successfully Managing Alcohol Responsibly and Together and will focus on education over punishment. SMART includes alcohol screening and treatment for all students who go through the campus judicial system.\nWhile Korona's death did not directly lead to the SMART initiative, McKaig acknowledged it was a factor.\n"(Korona's death) was a time that we were all reminded how serious issues related to alcohol have become," McKaig said. "It motivated lots of people to see how they could help with the solution."\nSince Korona's death, the Interfraternity Council now requires all members to pass the Training and Intervention Program, which shows fraternity members how to recognize and care for someone who is intoxicated.\nThe IFC is also participating in the Campus Community Commission on Alcohol Abuse. Part of that commission's recommendations -- that freshmen be required to live on campus -- has already been implemented. Other suggestions are to restrict tailgating, offer more classes on Fridays and defer fraternity recruitment.\nOn a statewide level, a law requiring keg registration goes into effect July 1 in part because of the lack of accountability in Korona's death.\nNo one was ever held responsible for the kegs that served underage guests of the rush party where Korona hit his head on a door frame. He was hospitalized two days later and remained in a coma until his death.\nNow, it's been two years since Seth Korona died, and only about half the students on campus know the story.\nFortunately IU's message on alcohol is becoming more and more consistent with that of Korona's friends and family, who ultimately want to prevent what happened to Seth from happening again:\nHave fun and be responsible.

Hey, do the Walk-Down

The fourth floor of Ballantine Hall has no classrooms.\nYet if you look closely, you can almost see a rut on the floor along a path hundreds of students follow every day.\nThe path winds from the elevators around a corner to the stairwell and down to the second and third floors of the aging building.\nStudents catch one of three elevators, ride it to the fourth floor, then walk down to their classrooms on the second and third floors.\nCall it the Ballantine Walk-Down.\nSince students can't ride Ballantine's elevators to the first three floors without a key, they have two options: Encounter the world's steepest stairs or take the elevator to the fourth, then walk down.\nAdd to that the stairs you have to walk up to get to the ground level, and admit it -- you've chosen the Walk-Down at least once.\nFor years, employees in the building have observed -- and been amused by -- the phenomenon.\nStudents share a laugh as a packed elevator empties onto the fourth floor, while professors grumble about how it clogs the elevators for those who need to get to higher floors. And mail services workers struggle to cram their carts onto packed elevators to make deliveries on time.\nThe Walk-Down was even referred to in a commencement speech last year. A graduate of IU's English department, which is located on Ballantine's fourth floor, said the department raises students' minds to the ideal, until, like Ballantine's Walk-Down, they must numb their minds to the world of work.\nBut that's too deep for a journalism major. Aren't students just being lazy?\nThat's what English Professor Nick Williams says.\n"It's an occasion for me to deplore their laziness," he says, but readily admits it's just one of many things he likes to complain about.\nInitially, elevator usage was limited because Ballantine has only three Otis lifts, but it was also assumed that students would be healthy enough to walk up a few flights of stairs.\nCarol Reitz, who works in mail services, doesn't see it that way. She says students have a lot of books to carry.\n"If they want to take the elevator to the fourth floor and walk down, more power to them," she says.\nBut the real Walk-Down payoff comes when a professor squeezes into an elevator packed with students, who are all apparently headed to the fourth floor.\nThen the professor keys three.\nAnd the students can't help but laugh as the elevator clears and they avoid the Ballantine Walk-Down.

Still alive at 25

Tired of his stable 9-to-5 job and restless with where his life is going, a 40-year-old leaves his home and wife. He plans a trip around the world and builds a log cabin in the country. And he buys a red sports car.\nThis is the stereotypical, clichéd midlife crisis.\nAn abundance of stability coupled with a milestone in age leads to what society has labeled a midlife crisis.\nExactly the opposite is true for many 20-somethings.\nWe're facing an entirely different stage of our lives, and the problem is a lack of stability and certainty.\nWill we get the job we want? Is this the person we want to spend our life with? Will we meet our family's expectations? Is it OK to "settle" on an outcome short of your dreams?\nThese questions aren't new. They show up in late-night conversations at Steak n' Shake, on long road trips and in the fleeting moments before you nod off in class. They reveal themselves when the usual distractions are nowhere to be found.\nNow, the questions and uncertainty have a name.\nAlexandra Robbins and Abby Wilner, both in their 20s, wrote Quarterlife Crisis: The Unique Challenges of Life in Your Twenties. (Tarcher/Putnam, $14.95). They also manage the Web site www.quarterlifecrisis.com.\nQuarterlife crises affect students who will soon graduate or recently graduated from college. \nBesides the pressures that have faced 20-somethings for years, it deals with the unique and new challenges our generation faces. That includes expensive education loans, a bad economy and the reality that over our careers we will work for significantly more employers than our parents.\nNeither midlife nor quarterlife necessarily bring crisis.\nThis is especially true for many college students who are enjoying a "childhood extension" of sorts, a delay from the inevitable pressures of career and family.\nBut when the pressure finally hits, it can hit hard.\nDeborah Fravel, a human development and family studies professor, gives her class some simple advice when the topic comes up. She also shares the personal experience of her 25th birthday.\n"I got up that morning and realized I was a quarter of a century old," she says. "That was the most difficult birthday of my life."\nFravel tells her students they're not the only ones facing the pressures associated with quarterlife crisis.\n"Give yourself a break," Fravel says. "Look around and take stock of where you are."\nThat could decide whether it becomes a "crisis" or just a smooth transition between phases in life.\nEither way, it's nice to have a "crisis" all to ourselves, since we're far from 40, don't have our own families to abandon and certainly don't need a log cabin in the country.\nBut the red sports car?\nSome things don't change with age.

Out of cite, out of mind

Your professor wants an e-mail copy of that paper you turned in during class.\nMaybe the professor wants to sneak a peek while an assistant grades the paper, or make sure you're covered if the other copy gets lost.\nOr maybe they feel lonely without a full inbox.\nThink again.\nThey're probably checking for plagiarism.\nAs students find new ways to cheat with the Internet, professors are finding new ways to crack down with Internet searches and new software. On the University level, officials may create an internal program and subscribe to a commercial service to catch plagiarism.\nThe reason: Cases of academic dishonesty at IU have nearly tripled in the last five years, according to figures provided by the Dean of Students Office. Last year, there were 293 cases of academic dishonesty, compared to 102 for 1997-98. About half of the cases are for plagiarism.\nSo why the increase?\nDean of Students Richard McKaig says it's a combination of greater vigilance by professors and more cheating by students, both facilitated by the Internet.\n"I don't know if they're doing it with evil in their heart," McKaig said, "but they may not know how to document it."\nInvariably, plagiarism comes up on the first day of class as the professor reviews the syllabus.\nBut threats of failing grades fall on deaf ears as students rush to find out whether the prof takes attendance.\nThough some professors don't emphasize the consequences of plagiarism in class, many are turning to the Teaching and Learning Technology Lab.\nOne of the lab's current initiatives is to develop a pilot program for IU that would check papers for plagiarism, said TLTL Director David Goodrum. Some IU departments have started keeping files of student papers, while others simply Google search suspicious phrases.\n"It's just as easy for the faculty member to detect (plagiarism) on the Internet as it was for the student to find it," said Pam Freeman, associate dean of students.\nRude Awakening\nAbout 400 residents of Willkie Quad's North Tower got a rude awakening early Wednesday.\nA student accidently set off a sprinkler head by hanging clothes on it, flooding rooms and leading to the evacuation of about 400 students at 1:40 a.m.\nRPS officials said this incident and another flood, caused by a system malfunction, are valuable lessons for students and administrators as IU installs sprinkler systems in every dorm.\nCurrently, only Willkie and Eigenmann Center have sprinkler systems. In the next 10 to 15 years, though, the systems will be installed in every residence hall.\nThe safety feature is well-worth the $2 million price tag per dorm, considering three students were killed in a dormitory fire in 2000 at Seton Hall University in New Jersey.\nDespite the early morning hassle, it's good to know the system works.

Best seat in the house

As the first half begins, the fans aren't answering Wilma Dugan's cheers or getting their fingers in the air during IU free throws.\nMany are staring and snickering. Bewildered.\nThe fans of Section LL in the East Balcony of Assembly Hall haven't caught on yet.\nBut that doesn't silence the 76-year-old usher and cheerleader. \n"Fuddy-duddies!" she mutters.\nShe knows they'll come around.\nWhile some consider the Assembly Hall balcony view subpar, Dugan, who has worked there for 20 of her 23 years as an usher, swears there is no better seat in the house.\nFor students lucky enough to land in her section, that's not far from the truth.\nDugan, whose primary job is to help ticket-holders to their seats, views her job as much more. She gets her section fired-up with chants, cheers and color commentary. And with what Shirley Garvin, a fellow usher, calls "grandmotherly spark."\nThe reaction of fans, as they warm up to her routine, is priceless.\nDugan greets each fan and, when necessary, gives them the friendly run-around. She draws close as she talks to a few fans worried their seat is too close to the edge of the balcony.\n"Are you scared?" she teases, before leading them to an open seat closer to the aisle.\nDuring the game, Dugan paces her 7-foot-wide aisle like a coach on the sidelines. Her feet never stop tapping, even on the rare occasion she sits on the edge of a seat to rest.\nShe rides the refs worse than The General, but the players also bear the brunt of her wrath.\n"Put him on the bench," she screams after Jeff Newton misses a free throw. Later, after A.J. Moye commits an offensive foul, she scolds, "A.J., you know better than that."\nAs a friend of former coach Bob Knight, Dugan was expected to keep her section especially well-behaved. So once, when students began a profane chant, Knight gestured at her to quiet them down.\nInstead, she led them in a deafening "applesauce" cheer. It's been a tradition ever since.\nAnother tradition is Dugan's repertoire of chants and cheers she begins when the band catches a breath.\nIn one of those rare moments of silence late in the second half, Dugan waves her arms to summon the Section LL fans for a cheer. Then she screams:\nTwo bits -- Four bits -- Six bits -- A dollar.\nWhole rows of fans turn around, smiling.\nAll for IU, stand up and hollar!\nAnd this time, they do.

Fernandez bid falls short

INDIANAPOLIS -- Republican Todd Rokita's victory over Bloomington mayor John Fernandez in the race for secretary of state could take on new significance, as the Indiana House appeared headed towards a 50-50 split between Republicans and Democrats late Tuesday.\nThe party that controls the secretary of state's office gets to hold the speaker's gavel in a deadlocked Indiana House.\n"For two years, I've been telling Hoosiers and supporters that the secretary of state race could be an insurance policy for the future of the state," said Rokita, referring to his party's ability to control the Indiana House. "That could be the case."\nAt press time, Rokita led Fernandez 55 percent to 41 percent, with 74 percent of precincts reporting. Meanwhile, a handful of Indiana House races were too close to call.\nFernandez had not conceded and was not available for comment at press time.\nRokita will take over for fellow Republican Sue Ann Gilroy, moving up from the deputy position to become the state's top elections official.\n"I feel vindicated," Rokita said. "It's no fun having a million dollars of negative, untrue ads thrown at you. But the people of Indiana saw through it, and I look forward to serving them."\nRokita was one of only a few Republicans who rained on the Democrat party at the Indianapolis Westin Hotel, where Democrats claimed several key Marion County victories.\nGov. Frank O'Ban-non, who traveled with Fernandez on a bus trip across the state Sunday, said the Democrats always face a tough road to statewide office.\nFernandez's experience was no different, though O'Bannon said Bloomington's mayor did well.\n"John Fernandez did an absolutely excellent job in running," O'Bannon said. "He had a good message, raised a lot of money and ran a great campaign."\nDespite the defeat, O'Bannon said he sees Fernandez as a future leader in the Democratic party and the state.\n"He'll be there again sometime and run for statewide office," O'Bannon said.\nRokita helped pass election reform after the Florida recount, in which he served the Bush campaign as legal counsel in seven counties. He ran his own law practice before becoming deputy secretary of state.\nBoth Rokita and Fernandez earned law degrees from IU.

Fire destroys apartment; no one injured

IU graduate Jenny Gibson found her harmonica in working order, though it blows a little smokey. Her favorite T-shirt, emblazoned with Marilyn Manson, made it out only slightly scorched.\nAnd while altered by intense heat, photos of friends and family on her refrigerator remain recognizable.\nBut as Gibson stepped over heaps of insulation, fallen ceiling panels and unidentifiable belongings hours after a fire gutted her Pavilion Dunn apartment Monday, what she was really looking for was her most prized possession, her 5-year-old gray cat, Blue.\n"Blue, where are you?" Gibson called after opening the soot-stained door to Apartment 12. "Blue?"\nTaking a few steps into the pitch black apartment, Gibson repeated her call.\n"Blue, where are you?" she said, coughing on smoke that remained from the morning fire.\n"Meow."\n"Oh my God," Gibson screamed as she walked toward the kitchen, her feet sloshing on wet carpet and drips falling on her head. "Oh my God. Oh my God. I can't believe you were in here this whole time."\n"Meow."\nEarlier, firefighters had searched for the cat but thought it ran away. \nGibson wanted to check for herself.\nThe cat had found its way into a favorite hiding place, Gibson said, a crawl space between a kitchen cabinet and adjacent bathroom. And Blue was content to stay there after much coaxing -- at least for the night.\n"He's been through a lot," Gibson said.\nThe fire, which was first reported at about 11 a.m., damaged four apartments at Pavilion Dunn, 419 E. 7th St., Fire Chief Jeff Barlow said. Gibson's apartment was destroyed. Three others sustained minor smoke and water damage.\nThe fire started when a heating vent ignited bedding in Gibson's apartment, then spread to a mattress and box spring. The three fire stations that responded were able to contain the blaze to one unit.\nHeaters must be kept clear to prevent fires as winter months arrive, Barlow said. Firefighters found three more rooms in the complex with bedding too close to heaters.\nWhile other tenants were cleared to return, Gibson was given a Red Cross allowance for clothes and toiletries and will live with a friend until a new Pavilion Property apartment is ready for her this week, said Ed Vande Sande, director of disaster services for the Red Cross, which is located next door to the apartment complex.\n"We set our all time response record," Vande Sande said. "We never know where stuff will happen. We go wherever we're needed."\nThe fire is only the second in 30 years for Pavilion Properties, which manages over 200 units and requires renters' insurance, said Mark Hoffman, the building's landlord.\nBy noon Monday, firefighters were tossing many of Gibson's belongings out her second-floor window and putting out hot-spots in her apartment.\nBut they couldn't notify Gibson until about 2 p.m. because she was at work.\n"I lost my mind crying when I heard," she said. "But after a while I just couldn't anymore so you have to make a joke about it."\nThat's what she was doing as she sifted through insulation, soggy books and articles of clothing strewn around the apartment complex lawn.\n"My undergarments are in the yard," Gibson said. "That's what I have a problem with right now."\nToday, Gibson plans to clean up more of the mess and see if Blue is ready to come out of hiding. \nIf you'd like to help, call the Red Cross at 332-7292.

TESTING THE WATERS -- G107: Physical Systems of Environment students measure the flow of the Jordan River for a class project.

Police: Freshman died from injuries at party

The IU freshman who died last month of blunt force trauma to the head struck his head on a metal door casing a few minutes after performing a keg stand at Theta Chi fraternity, police said. When Seth Korona fell backward and struck his head, people around him thought he had passed out from drinking, according to an IU police press release.\nAccording to police, Monroe County Prosecutor Carl Salzmann has decided not to file charges in the case, saying there was no "criminal nexus." Salzmann could not be reached for further comment Friday.\nKorona, 19, died Feb. 4 of bleeding in the brain caused by the head trauma, Monroe County Coroner David Toumey said. Korona attended a Jan. 27-28 party at the Theta Chi, was hospitalized Jan. 29 and remained in a coma until his death.\nWhen Korona fell, people around him thought he had just passed out from drinking and didn't think they needed to call an ambulance, IUPD Lt. Jerry Minger said.\nToumey said that if doctors had known immediately that Korona had sustained a blow to the head, they might have been able to do more to treat him.\nAccording to the police report:\n

Police give facts of freshman's death as friends and family mourn

On New Year's Day, Seth Korona and his mother left for IU -- the university Korona loved, sight unseen.\nIt was just mother, son, a green Mercury Mountaineer and 710 miles of road.\n"They had a wonderful ride together," Debra Neilson, a family friend, said. "It's a memory she's going to cherish forever."\nAfter a semester at West Chester University near his home in Marlton, New Jersey, Korona, 19, decided to transfer, looking for more of a challenge. He arranged to attend IU to study business, a lifelong dream.\nThe next time he went home, it was for his own funeral.\nThe time of his life\nKorona moved into Foster Quad Room 216 Jan. 2.\nHe instantly fit in. He was fun, easy-going, performed well in classes and never seemed stressed out, friends said.\n"He loved this school with his whole heart," said freshman Chris Vargo, one of the first people Korona met.\nKorona and Vargo both started at IU second semester and lived on the same floor. Vargo moved in a day after Korona. After meeting and attending orientation activities together, the two became friends, lifting weights together at the Student Recreational Sports Center.\nA natural athlete, Korona was captain of the Cherokee High School, N.J., swim team. He would have been head lifeguard at the Larchmont Swim Club in New Jersey this summer.\nVargo was one of Korona's tight-knit group of floormates, including freshman Matt Wattley. Wattley said Korona had a way of bringing people together.\nVargo said floormates talked with Korona about everything -- girls, parties, cars and classes. They watched TV, played video games and ate at Gresham Food Court, known to them as "The Gresh."\nAlong with stories from high school, Korona told his friends he wanted to bring his new, blue Kawasaki motorcycle to campus some day. It was at home in New Jersey.\nBack home, Korona's parents were hearing good things from their son. He was doing well in classes, getting along with his roommate and having the time of his life. He kept in touch with his parents and brother through Instant Messenger almost daily. He spoke to his parents on the phone about once a week, friends said.\nNeilson said Korona always had a smile on his face, looked like Prince William and loved IU from the start.\nThe weekend\nKorona and his friends at Foster also hung out on weekends and partied together.\nTypical weekend plans started with dinner at "The Gresh," getting ready at 10:30 p.m. and leaving an hour later, friends said. They went to parties at an apartment or a fraternity house, arriving around midnight. They drank, socialized and danced, usually until about 3 a.m. Sophomore Andy Doughty was the group's designated driver.\nThe typical night of partying would end with a stop at Steak 'n Shake and a loud return to the residence hall, friends said.\nKorona was a social drinker, but didn't like to show off, friends said.\n"Korona does not get out of control," Doughty said. "He becomes more vocal, gets louder, but not rambunctious."\nKorona drank during high school and knew his limits, Doughty said.\nHe was also conscious of the impression he was making on fraternity members, friends said, because he was rushing.\nDuring the first three weeks of the semester, Korona partied with his friends about 10 times, they said. The group typically stuck together all night.\nJan. 24, Korona and Vargo went to the Theta Chi fraternity to get on the house's rush list for "free beer" and for the following Saturday's party, Vargo said.\n'We weren't all together'\nThat Saturday is a night none of them will forget.\nBut as it began, only one thing separated the night of Jan. 27 from the others.\n"The only thing that was different that night was that we weren't all together," Doughty said.\nKorona, Doughty, freshman Scott McCoy and other friends ate at Malibu Grill restaurant early in the evening. A long wait at the restaurant caused them to miss their ride to the party, McCoy said.\nAfter dinner, Korona, Doughty and McCoy stopped by a friend's apartment and drank a few beers, McCoy said.\nWhen they returned to Foster, Vargo and a friend were leaving to go to a party at Theta Chi.\nKorona was just getting into the shower as Vargo was ready to leave, and Vargo gave him a hard time about it, he said.\n"That was the last time I really talked to him much," Vargo said.\nKorona and McCoy walked to Theta Chi, Vargo got a ride and Doughty, the usual designated driver, stayed home to do homework.\nKorona arrived at the party soon after midnight. The party, which extended through the hallways, basement and upstairs rooms of the house, was registered for as many as 600 people, IU Police Department Lt. Jerry Minger said.\nTheta Chi's guests were talking, dancing and enjoying the party, friends said. Guests were drinking Everclear "rush" punch and from kegs upstairs, friends said.\nKorona looked like he was having a good time at the party, McCoy said. He danced and hung out in the hallways mostly, but later went to the basement, friends said.\nVargo and other friends left the party at 2 a.m., but Korona stayed, Vargo said.\nAt about 3 a.m., Korona made his way upstairs to a fraternity member's room.\nSomeone asked if anyone wanted to do a keg stand, a hand-stand over a keg of beer while drinking from the tap, Minger said. Others had done keg stands at the party, and Korona did one shortly after 3 a.m., Minger said.\nAfter he did the keg stand, Korona was helped down from the keg and walked away.\nMinutes later, Korona fell backward and hit his head on a metal door frame, according to the IUPD.\nThe back lower-left portion of his head struck the door frame, half-way between the floor and the strike plate, where the door handle meets the frame, Minger said.\nWitnesses thought he had passed out from drinking, according to an IUPD release. He was unconscious for a few minutes, according to the IUPD.\nAfter being helped up and taken to a nearby room, Korona declined to go the hospital several times, Minger said.\nMcCoy said he saw Korona vomiting in an upstairs room, but fraternity members were taking care of him. They told McCoy they would bring him home in the morning, McCoy said.\nMcCoy said he assumed Korona drank a "bad mix" of Everclear punch and beer.\nTwo guys brought Korona back to Foster at about noon Jan. 28, freshman Ayodele Jegede, his roommate, said. They were members of Theta Chi, according to police.\n"(One of the guys) pointed out to me that I should watch him for the rest of the day and be careful what he does," Jegede said. "They said to make sure he's up and moving around."\nKorona seemed tired and complained of a headache Sunday, and spent the day in bed, Vargo said. Throughout the day, Theta Chi members called to check on Korona's condition, according to the IUPD.\nIt was Super Bowl Sunday -- and it looked like their friend had a hangover. They checked on him several times, but Korona told them to turn off the light and go away, friends said.\nWhen his condition didn't improve the next day, Korona's friends demanded answers. When Korona couldn't explain large bruises under his arms and why he was holding the back of his head, Vargo called an ambulance.\nDoughty rode with Korona to Bloomington Hospital Jan. 29.\nDoctors initially feared meningitis. But after culture tests ruled out the disease, doctors discovered Korona had a skull fracture. At the hospital, Korona slipped into a coma.\nFamily and friends prayed together at Korona's bedside.\nHe was taken off life-support Feb. 4.\nMonroe County Coroner David Toumey said Korona died of bleeding in the brain caused by the skull fracture. Toumey said if doctors had known immediately that Korona had sustained a blow to the head, they might have been able to do more to treat him.\n'A friend waiting'\nAt his funeral Feb. 8 in New Jersey, Korona's casket was draped with an IU flag he had sent to his father. A West Chester hat, IU hat and his life-guard jersey and whistle sat on top.\nAbout 800 people attended, including Vargo and Wattley.\nAt the funeral, Korona's friends from New Jersey wanted to meet his IU friends. They knew nothing about what had happened to their friend and hoped Vargo and Wattley would bring answers. It wasn't easy telling them they had none, Wattley said.\nSince his death, moving on hasn't been easy for Korona's friends. A toast offered to Korona caused Vargo to break down at a recent party.\n"I'd start thinking about Seth," Vargo said. "My eyes started watering. He was always with us."\nIn three weeks on campus, Korona impacted many lives. About 120 people attended a memorial gathering for him the day he died.\nVargo said his friend will bring him comfort.\n"Death is less scary knowing I have a friend waiting," he said.\nMeanwhile, Korona's family has adopted his Foster floormates into their own family, Neilson said.\nThe floor has taken Korona's 15-year old brother Elliott, his only sibling, under their wings.\n"His brother has a whole floor full of brothers now," Doughty said.\nKorona's friends from Foster plan to celebrate his July 28 birthday at the New Jersey shore with Korona's hometown buddies.\nWattley had promised Korona he'd go fishing with him this summer. Now he plans to take Korona's father, he said.\nFriends said they've felt the void left by their friend's passing.\nAt Texas Roadhouse restaurant, on the night doctors decided there was nothing they could do for Korona, a waitress pulled an extra chair up to the booth where eight friends were seated. They looked at the empty chair.\n"It was a hard reminder," McCoy said. "We looked at each other stunned and knew what each of us was thinking." \nSeth is really gone.\nOn the return flight from Korona's funeral in New Jersey, Vargo said there was an empty seat next to him -- the only one on the plane.