The Carl Online

Carl 2010 PDFs by carlmagazine
October 10, 2010, 5:23 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

The staff of the Carl recognizes that some readers may be unable to access the print version of the Carl. Perhaps they have religious beliefs preventing them from touching the Carletonian in order to take out the Carl. Perhaps they are bodiless entities which exist solely within the interweb. In either case, it is not our place  to judge.

May 7 2010 Carl

May 21 2010 Carl

Oct 8 2010 Carl

Sept 24 2010 Carl

As an added bonus, this makes it easier to cite the Carl in Endnote!

Schiller Lives On, But Why? by carlmagazine
October 10, 2010, 11:59 am
Filed under: Campus, Feature | Tags: , , , , ,

By Lily Schieber

What’s the big deal with Schiller, anyway? Seriously: think about it for a minute. We’re lucky if we see him a handful of times in the year, and most of us will go through our entire academic career here at Carleton without ever coming close to touching this infamous bust—or one of the two busts, as the case may be. I’ve spent the past week or so trying to get as much input from as many students as possible about what makes this tradition so important (a big thanks to those who replied to my mass emails!). I hoped this would bring me closer to understanding this Carleton custom; in fact, the responses added to my bewilderment. People get upset when Schiller doesn’t appear for extended periods of time, it can be stressful to plan a showing, and yet the one thing it seems everybody agrees on is that if anyone tried to stop this tradition, students would NOT be pleased. Let’s put it this way: if the Carleton student body were in a Facebook relationship with Schiller, it would be labeled “It’s Complicated”.

And that’s not a totally outlandish idea. Not wanting Schiller to be left in the dark ages, Carls with some spare time on their hands have created (at least) four separate Schiller Facebook accounts. These Schiller profiles serve as a living archive of pictures, posted alongside student opinions and praise, and maybe like many other online relationships, are just another way for us all to feel close to Schiller, even though we’ve never actually met. I was friends with only one of these Schillers until about two weeks ago, and when I received a friend request from another Schiller, I hesitated. Do I need two imaginary Facebook friends? But for whatever reason, I realized it would have felt weird to say no—and apparently I’m not the only one who felt this way, because I’m certainly not these Schillers’ only Facebook friend. Yet despite his online popularity and great reputation, it’s hard for any one of us to pinpoint why he remains a necessary part of our campus life. Because no single Carl can answer the question, “Why Schiller?”, we devote this week’s feature to a collection of stories and opinions from various students about the history and mystery of our beloved poet, philosopher, historian, playwright, and bust: Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller.

There is little for a current Guardian to say about his job. It is one that requires a surprising amount of work, thought, and planning, and while it comes with no direct recognition, hearing people talk to you about your showings without realizing that you were the perpetrator makes the job worthwhile. Next time you talk to someone about Schiller, just think about the fact that you might be talking to a Guardian without even realizing it.

We have little else to say on matters regarding our current relationship with the great philosopher, other than that he is alive and well, resting calmly for his next presentation. We will however, note that if Poskanzer’s interactions with Schiller thus far are any indication of his presidential term, Steven G. Poskanzer is going to do very well here. The pictures we submitted with this article, along with the shaving picture from a few weeks ago, only scratch the surface of the fun approach Poskanzer has had with us. We have had a secret meeting in the Arb with him, code words, poetry recitings, obscure phone messages, emails full of literary allusion. He is, at once, both a smart and funny man.

For obvious reasons of security, the remainder of the article will focus not on where we are now, as Guardians, but what has come before us. We will attempt to demystify some of the legend and lore surrounding the bust, or, as is truly the case as of present, busts; as became obvious at Frisbee Toss, there are two distinct busts on campus, both of which have some historical claim to legitimacy. Both have actually been on campus for some time (ours since 1989 and the other since 1996), and while both have been simultaneously active before, one is often dormant for some period while the other is active.

Because the busts regularly sustain damage, President Lewis was willing to replace busts that were reported to be beyond recognition, each time with an exact replica of the original Schiller bust. In 1988, a bust from the line of originals was annihilated in a showing with the Pep band and all that was left was the nose. President Lewis replaced that bust with one of the two that is currently circulating at Carleton—the one pictured with Poskanzer on the cover of the previous edition of the Carl (first pictured in the 1989 summer edition of The Voice). In keeping with tradition, the bust that President Lewis bestowed upon students as a replacement in 1989 was of the same size and shape as all previous busts. This is the one that we now possess.

In 1996, reports of a heavily damaged bust prompted yet another replacement. On an iron bridge at the edge of the Arb a group called 85 Lost Sheep organized an extremely elaborate plot for the exchange. This time, seeing how much damage large unwieldy busts had sustained, President Lewis pragmatically chose a small Schiller bust to replace the damaged one, hoping its more convenient size would make it less likely to break. The damaged one that 85 Lost Sheep traded in was the “Imitation Schiller,” not the official bust that Lewis had given to students in 1989. You can see in the attached image that the bust traded for the small one had no shoulders and a stand attached directly to the head. This bust was placed in the Carleton Archives, where it remains today. The bust you may know from the Colbert Report is the small one that President Lewis gave to 85 Lost Sheep in 1996.

A few years later, during the commencement address in 2000, President Bill Clinton wanted his speech to make waves at Carleton. To spice things up, somebody gave him “Imitation Schiller,” which had already been in the archives for 4 years and was no longer in circulation.

Unfortunately very few people really know the path that the busts have taken throughout the years and the archival data is tedious to slog though. As a result, legitimacy is really established by the quality of the appearances that a specific Schiller makes.

Freedom can occur only through education.
-The Guardians-

Tales from the Great Northfield Flood Part 2; Flood of Support by carlmagazine
October 9, 2010, 9:38 am
Filed under: Feature, Northfield | Tags: , , ,

By Teddy Gelderman

I rolled out of bed on Friday morning and clicked on my computer to check my email. There I read a universal call for volunteer sandbaggers to converge downtown at Bridge Square immediately. It was 9am and the river was still rising. As I am a senior, my first class isn’t until 4a, so I figured I might as well go check out the damage. When I hopped off my bike  twenty minutes later, I got my first glimpse of the inundated Northfield that we all came to know last weekend.

At first, I wasn’t sure about what I was supposed to do, or if they even needed volunteers. Then, as if on queue, someone jogged over to a crowd of us bystanders and directed us where to go. Water was creeping higher and higher and was now only inches from some windows along the waterfront sidewalk. I stepped down the two remaining visible steps onto what was normally a riverfront walkway, and was met with two feet of water, which meant that for the rest of the day my shoes and pants would be drenched. We formed the first of many sandbag brigade lines and quickly fortified what we could. By then it was 10:00 am and it seemed unlikely that the river would crest within the hour, as was previously predicted. However, the water was still climbing and would soon overcome Northfield’s first line of defense.

From then on, I followed the small splinter cells of sandbaggers up and down both sides of the river stacking, heaving, filling, tying, and hauling   sandbags for the next two hours. I took orders from whoever was giving them and the minutes clicked on as the river inched its way higher and higher up the walls.

I realized just after noon that I was late for my 4a, and rushed back to catch the tail end of class. Once class was out, I set out for the river again, filed myself back into another sandbag brigade line and was instantly passing bags down to the other volunteers.
And the day passed. Our original efforts were washed away or simply overwhelmed by the water, but by 6:00pm it seemed as though the worst was over. Our walls were holding and the river seemed content to rise no further. The volunteers were called off and most of us walked home: shovels scraping the asphalt behind us, dragged by sore, bruised arms and shoulders.

While the Flood of 2010 will be recorded as one of the most memorable in the city’s history, what remains most impressive is the response from Northfield’s own residents. Long before I arrived and long after I left, people of all ages were doing their part. Like a colony of ants, every individual worked with little to no central organization or direction. They just worked, and out of what should have been chaos, came order. Filling stations and line brigades seemed to materialize and organize on their own.

A voice would call out for more people to move sandbags, or that a wheelbarrow had a bad wheel, or that one station was getting low on sand, and before the voice had stopped echoing off the nearest building, extra volunteers would flock to fill line gaps, bring replacement parts, or find out when the next load of sand would arrive. Oles, Carls, and even Raiders worked side by side, joining together in numbers perhaps never seen before in Northfield. Classes and practices were cancelled to provide replacement workers for the volunteers. All of Northfield was put on hold and its citizens banded together to work for something bigger than the sum of their parts. All of us moved like tiny gears in a giant, living machine. It was truly inspiring.

And yes, there were apathetic bystanders, and even bow-hunting fishermen. But for every one gawker or opportunistic angler, there were at least 50 people, sandy, sweaty and tired, doing their damnedest to help.

Our town came together in a matter of hours to battle with the Cannon River, and while there were casualties—a moment of silence for Froggy’s—in the end, the day was ours. We have a city filled with generous, hard working, and self-sacrificing individuals and I have never been more proud to be a member of our community, or to live in Northfield.

Tales from the Great Northfield Flood Part 1; Keeping the Waters at Bay by carlmagazine
October 8, 2010, 9:33 am
Filed under: Campus, Northfield, Society

An Interview with Kirk Campbell, Director of Maintenance and Custodial Services

By Lily Shieber

I got my rain boots wet, I even helped sandbag the Cannon, but amidst all this talk of the flood, I thought it would be interesting to hear from someone who was—and still is—in the thick of cleaning up the mess here on campus. Earlier this week, I sat down with Kirk Campbell, the Director of Maintenance and Custodial Services (and might I add, an extremely nice man), who, just about two weeks ago, was waist deep in the murky, black water in West Gym. For Mr. Campbell, that fateful Friday, September 24th, began with a phone call at 4 A.M., alerting him that the water alarms—yes, those exist—were going off. What followed was an all too typical plot of man versus nature, and nature was off to a roaring start. The attempts to keep the Cannon River water away from the stadium and West Gym with pumps and sand berms quickly turned into a lost cause, and as Mr. Campbell said, you have to know when to abandon ship. From then on, the available resources and manpower went towards keeping the water away from the electrical source that controls half of our campus. Power was shut down in the stadium, West Gym, and the nearby houses; yes, sacrifices were made, but it could have been much worse. For most of us, the immediate effects of the flood are mostly over, if not totally old news. For Kirk Campbell, the work has only just begun.

To understand Mr. Campbell’s most daunting challenge these days, you have to understand one word: plenum. Don’t know what that means? Neither did I. I now know that a plenum is a pipe that pumps air around a building. All plenums have insulation—insulation that cannot get wet. And can you guess what happened to the plenums in West Gym? Yup, those suckers got soaked. Unfortunately, the pipes in an older building like West have insulation on the interior, so each piece of plenum has to be removed and cleaned out, then replaced. Oh, and perhaps I should mention, as Mr. Campbell did with a smile, that some of these pipes are “big enough for you and me to walk through”. So before you complain about not being able to practice in West Gym, imagine ripping out pipes the size of an adult human, gutting them, fixing them up, and putting them back. Indeed, when I asked Mr. Campbell what we could do to help now that the flood has ended, he replied, “be patient!” Rome wasn’t built in a day, and Carleton can’t dry up in a week. Despite all the work that lies ahead, Mr. Campbell seems incredibly positive, and even willing to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation—he mentioned how strange it was to have his staff split between crisis management on one side of the road, and setting up inaugural festivities on the other. I asked how he would describe his job these past few weeks: “It’s been nutty,” he said. Here’s hoping that Kirk Campbell’s workday will be back to normal soon enough.

Carleton Alumnus Speaks Tonight on Farmworker Issues by carlmagazine
October 5, 2010, 10:05 am
Filed under: Society
Tonight at 7PM there will be an event in the Athenaeum where two representatives of Bon Appetit will speak about the fieldwork they’ve done. One of them is Vera Chang (’09), cofounder of Food Truth.
You can read an article that Vera wrote about tomato farming here.
The workers are bent over, picking tomatoes, some of them so close to the ground they are practically kissing it. The farm workers pick quickly, their movements rapid and repetitive. These workers are truly like machines in the fields.