skip to content

Security - A Primer

by Chuk Kittredge

I stood there, hands trembling. I looked back at the inviting hallway, with the soft carpet and floral prints. No. I had to do this. The heads had told me. Anything for a story, they said. Please, I begged them - anything but this. But they wouldn't hear of it. So here I was, poised at the brink, about to enter the lion's den. Genuflecting, I knocked timidly on the thick oak door.

"Whaddya want?" bellowed a voice from within. Here goes. I sprung the latch and bounded inside, cordiality oozing from every pore. Wayne Eisenhuth took one look at me and dropped the huge Cuban he'd been smoking, an expression of mingled distaste, displeasure and distemper creasing his swarthy brow.

"Wayne! How are ya!? Shake a paw, old buddy!" I extended my thin hand in his general direction. He looked at it. Looked at me. Looked back at my hand.

"Get'cher damn hands away from me, ya punk kid" he growled, flicking ash from his stogie onto a pile of Security reports.

"Well geez, Wayne, that's no way to greet an old friend. Heh heh. Ahem." He uncrossed his feet, clad in hand-tooled penny loafers, and leaned toward me. His breath reeked of garlic and cigar.

"I told you once, you little piss-ante. Stay out of the tunnels or I'll fix you but good."

See, Wayne and I go way back. He has this little problem - he hasn't caught me yet. Like that time back in the summer of '00 when an officer reported the Security Jeep missing. Six hours later, they discovered it up on blocks out in the Arb, packed to the gills with stoned high school girls who, when questioned, said they were 'living in the now, man'. And then, of course, there's all the nasty graffiti down in the tunnels. Some of that shit makes the Kyia-haters look like amateurs. And there I was, trying to get him to talk about Security's style. Nobody's more stylish than Security, they'd told me. Men in uniform and all that. A human-interest piece, they said. But he wasn't having any of it. Plus, he kept yelling in raspy Italian at the old lady in the back room who was busy making baklava or whatever. When he finally gave me the boot, I marched out whistling that song from 'The Godfather', my notebook blanker than an Olie's stare. I had to ask myself - what's a girl to do when she can't get an interview from the most powerful man on campus? Why, print scurrilous lies, of course. So without further ado, here's a little primer on the minds, great and small, behind campus Security...

Wayne Eisenhuth, Director

Wayne Eisenhuth, Director

a.k.a. "El Jefe de Jefes"

 

Jim Bushey

Jim Bushey

a.k.a. "Junkyard Dogg"

 

Steve Hanson

Steve Hanson

a.k.a. "That Guy", "Barney Fife"

 

Klay Christiansen

Klay Christiansen

a.k.a. "Redbeard"

 

Sharon Wadekamper

Sharon Wadekamper

a.k.a. "Der Meter Mistress"

 

Noel Williams

Noel Williams

a.k.a "The Lone Ranger"

 

Randy Atchison

Randy Atchison

a.k.a. "That New Guy", "Spike"