by Steve Gallup
In my junior year (my first year at NCSSM) I tallied a number of Phase I violations. I was late for curfew. I pranked other people on the hall. I failed to show up for my community service assignments.
But for the most part, my transgressions were minor. I had no ambition for causing distress... or creating havoc.
And during the summer (at home, between my junior and my senior year,) I was an assistant Sunday school teacher at church. I worked as a substitute newspaper delivery carrier for my mother and others. I helped my family and neighbors with yard and household chores. I played basketball with the children of refugees from Vietnam.
I was a pretty good citizen. My mother even said so in writing.
She wrote a letter in my defense the following fall -- the first semester of my senior year. She described all of those positive actions, after she had been notified of the trouble I was in -- the trouble I’m about to describe.
She must have thought I was a pretty good kid, even though I would sometimes misbehave or shirk my responsibilities.
In a typewritten letter, addressed to the Dean of Student Personnel, she said, “…Naturally there were many... good and bad decisions Steve [has] made… and he has usually paid for or learned from each episode on the way to maturity."
And why did she write the letter, at all?
Let me tell you a little story....
The Vending Machine
Shortly after my senior year began (in 1981), I found myself exploring the bowels of Hill House late at night. Hill House held rooms for male students, including myself, on the first and second floors. I lived on the first floor. But it wasn’t just a dormitory building. The basement of Hill House also held classrooms and a mail room.
And somewhere in the basement of Hill House, there was a tunnel that led beneath the ground to the oldest buildings on campus - to the abandoned passages of the renovated hospital. But that tunnel had been completely hidden... somehow... in a feat of wizardry or engineering. (I can scarcely credit its disappearance to the administration, whose efforts were usually so insubstantial.)
Perhaps we were looking for that tunnel in vain, or perhaps we were just wandering the halls alone, but somehow, sometime after midnight, the four of us found ourselves in a vending area in the basement.
We were in an off limits area, after curfew (a phase II offence at worst). It was me, my roommate, Robert Lee; my soccer teammate, John Armitage (all seniors); and an innocent junior, named Hooman Sabeti, who also lived on our hall. He had the unfortunate luck to be under our very bad influence that evening.
So... late at night, in a room in the basement, we happened to come upon a vending machine. Not a sparkling new machine, lit-up like a beacon of deliciousness. On the contrary, this vending machine was in poor condition. It was unplugged and unlit, dusty and broken.
Parts of the plastic barrier at the bottom of the machine were scratched and splintered. Some of the metal spirals, that would turn and propel the snacks forward, were disengaged and hanging loose.
Some of the snack packages were still to be found in an orderly row, but most of the snacks had been purchased long ago. It appeared to have been months since it had been restocked. Clearly the machine was out of commission and defunct.
It was the perfect opportunity for practical experimentation.
We wanted to see what kind of dexterity was required to dispossess this machine of its wares.
Mind you, this was more like a form of quality control. We wanted to see if the vending machine could withstand a ne'er-do-well's efforts at theft... or if the machine's engineered protections could be circumvented by the right set of contortions, using our scrawny arms and nimble fingers. We had not the slightest thought of selfishness, greed, or malice. It was purely scientific.
Robert went first.
He crouched down -- one knee on the ground. He had to get his shoulder low, close to the level of the teetering L-shaped plastic tray at the bottom -- the one that was normally pushed in to retrieve the purchased item.
He managed to get his arm through, with the tray partially opened, and with some contortions of arm and torso, he managed to turn his elbow and upper arm from a horizontal to a vertical position, within reach of a moldering pack of crackers.
He was so close. We all watched in admiration.
As he strained to complete the maneuver... as we observed in rapt silence... we heard a man's voice behind us say, with no hint of amusement, “What’s going on here?"
In the Hands of the Authorities
A Phase III hearing was completely unexpected. I fully expected to skate by with a Phase I reprimand -- the customary penalty for a curfew violation. Instead we were accused of vandalism -- an egregious offence, and (in my opinion) a huge over-reaction.
I chalk it up to ill humor. Our Resident Advisor, T-- B----- reported the incident; lodging the complaint. The head of student services, Michael Collins scheduled the hearing, ensuring our punishment.
Mr. B----- couldn’t see the slapstick comical humor of Robert’s practice attempt. He only saw loitering and a stymied attempt at theft. Mr. Collins didn’t see a merry band of prospective engineers deconstructing the machine-client interface. Rather, he perceived a misguided attempt to cause damage and destruction.
As a result of their lack of imagination… their lack of humor… their lack of judiciousness… the phase III hearing was set in motion.
But that wasn’t the worst part. As I sat in the office with Mr. Collins, being interviewed and admonished, he advised me that he would have to call my mother... and that I would have to tell her what had happened... and that I would have to do it in the room while he was listening!
That might be when I developed a hatred of authority.
He asked me for her phone number.
He called, and he said, “Mrs. Gallup, I’m here with your son. He has something that he has to tell you.”
And he handed me the phone.
The Judicial System in Action
The Hearing was held a few days later. John Armitage asked a faculty member to be our representative -- probably Dr. Miller, our English professor.
Dr. Miller had a sense of humor and a sense of perspective. He was respected, and he spoke with the resonant voice of of a practiced orator.
He had the additional virtues of being thoughtful and objective. He was able to show that the vending machine had been long abandoned. The vending machine snacks had all passed their expiration dates long ago -- more than 6 months prior to our late night excursion.
I’m sure all of our stories were the same… because they were all true.
We had engaged in some foolishness. We had been caught red-handed. We had done nothing with malicious intent. We were just exploring and experimenting.
So, we were put on probation. We weren’t kicked out of school.
We were detained and humiliated instead.
My Phase III Letter
I tried rationalize my experience and the aftermath, spinning it into a spectacular transgression, and a victory for the little guys -- the oppressed.
We faced off with the administration, and we won… sort of.
Of all of the ephemera of my time at NCSSM, my Phase III letter is my most prized possession, on a par with my graduation diploma.
This is what it says, in full. (You be the judge.):
September 29, 1981
Steven Brian Gallup
2807 Wayland Drive
Raleigh, North Carolina 27608
Dear Steve:
This letter is to officially document action taken in response to the Phase III hearing conducted with you Tuesday, September 22, 1981. The hearing was conducted because of a report by a Hill House Resident Advisor that you participated with three other students in tampering with a vending machine, as well as having unauthorized access to student mailboxes. This incident was reported to have happen [sic] Sunday, September 20, 1981 at 2:00 AM.
As a result of the hearing, confirmation of your participation was made. The Hearing Committee was made aware that the incident was more spontaneous than premeditated. However, that does not detract from the fact that your actions were thoughtless and that you assumed you had the right to do what was reported. You must reflect on your behavior. It is not consistent with the goals of the School nor what is set forth in the Student Handbook.
The Hearing Committee decided to reduce the incident to a Phase II response. Accordingly, you are to make restitution of $10.00 for your fair share of the repairs to the vending machine. Please make check payable to NCSSM Residence Life Fund and submit it to Kathy Benzaquin, Head of Residential Life. In addition, you are placed on Phase II probation until the start of the second semester. Probation will be lifted, assuming no repetition of this or similar incidents, on January 27, 1982.
You have the right to appeal this decision in writing to the School’s director, Charles Eilber. The deadline for an appeal is October 8, 1981.
Finally, I wish to point out that the Hearing Committee reviewed your disciplinary situation within a context of what is fair and right for you. Much time was given by individuals here to work through your problem with you and give you every possible consideration. We expect a positive, helpful response from you and nothing less.
Please contact me if you have any concerns about this matter.
Sincerely,
Michael E. Collins, Dean
Student Personnel Services
cc: Mrs. Margaret Gallup
Taking a Big Risk
You would think that I had learned my lesson -- that I would do what was right, “and nothing less”.
But it wasn’t much later, that I made plans to sneak over to Wyche House, the girl’s dorm, at night. Three of us were going. I was going to provide my friends with support. One of us wanted to spend time with his girl friend, but didn’t want to go alone. I wished I had a girlfriend, and thought, "Maybe if I do this audacious thing, the girls will be impressed". I was young and foolish… very foolish.
So we snuck over to the girls dorm. They aided us in this breach of “The Code” by opening the door to the basement, to let us in. They had arranged to let their RA know that they were going to have a pajama party in the basement -- a cover for our intrusion.
Our plan was executed to perfection. In concept it was a success. But I have never spent a more miserable night, worrying about the repercussions, should I be caught whilst still on probation. I was never happier to sneak back to my proper place at sunrise, and slip back into my dorm room bed. The relief was palpable.
In my mind this breach of protocol… this trespass… this violation was much worse -- more lowly… more intentional… more fool-hardy, than the laughable matter for which I had been previously reprimanded.
And yet, no hand of justice came down to punish me. This time, except for my troubled sleep, no repercussions came down.
Epilogue
I don’t know if I learned from my delinquencies.
Perhaps I learned to distrust authority.
Or that justice is blind.
Or that a mother’s love is unconditional.
I never did, from that point on, attempt to retrieve a packet of crackers or chips from a vending machine without a proper purchase. And so, I never did complete the misdeed I had been so ingloriously convicted of, in 1981.
Although I flirted with a major in Engineering, I quickly lost my excitement for the field, at Vanderbilt University, where the engineering program seemed focused on computerized advancements, and human ingenuity seemed to be of little concern. I changed to a pre-medical major instead.
I tried to stay out of trouble (though I didn’t always succeed), and I tried to surround myself with people with a good sense of humor (though they are sometimes hard to find) -- people with kindness, understanding, and affection.
I tried to learn from the experience "on my way to maturity".
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Appendix - Letter from Mrs. Margaret Gallup to Dean Collins regarding an unhappy incident involving her son at the NC School for Science and Math.
