INDEPENDENTS

HINDEPENDENTS

KILO

H

ot tempers take a back seat to sizzling guitar licks and sultry professionalism for members of the rock group Kilo.

In just two years, the Bloomington-based band has moved from playing in local bars to jamming in front of Indianapolis and Louisville nightclub audiences. They have booking agents, recording opportunities and an audition for "Star Search," a national television show that discovers new talent.

The seven-member student group attributes its musical success to a close working relationship. "We are just like a family, and we never even argue," said David Randle, a senior SPEA major and bass guitarist.

The "rough spots" have not inhibited the group's progress but reinforced its drive toward musical success. "We use our individual strengths to complement others' weaknesses," said Charles Taliefero, an IU graduate who is lead guitarist and a vocalist. "Each year, we improve 10 years."

Kilo uses teamwork and a commitment to music to bring energetic performances to practice sessions and live shows. "We work very hard for our money," said Georgia Jones, a senior forensics major, percussionist and vocalist. "Our rehearsals are based on quality rather than quantity." "Some weeks we practice six days, others only one," said John Engelland, a senior history major who is lead guitarist and vocalist.

"Our practices must work around our class schedules and out-oftown performances."

Taliefero believes optimism helps the band cope with its members' hectic lives. "Without a positive outlook, it would be almost impossible for Kilo to juggle the trips between gigs and campus," he said.

Often they must drive back from late-night Thursday shows to take an exam on Friday morning. "Dividing time and energy between the band and classes has given me the greatest challenge of my college years," Randle said. "However, I would never trade it back."

Although it has established a good reputation in other cities, the band's largest group of fans is IU students. "The best moment I ever felt was when the band performed at the Lambda Chi lawn dance," Jones said. "The longer we played, the closer the crowd moved to the stage. At our feet, hundreds of students had their eyes on us."

The group feels responsible for setting the mood of its audiences. "If we have a good time on the stage, so will the audience," Taliefero said. "Sometimes, a responsive crowd can make me feel like a star."

Since stardom doesn't come easily, Kilo must continuously strive for perfection to retain its status in the entertainment business.

"Our keyboard player and vocalist, Jeff Jacobs, was used to playing with serious musicians for many years, so he keeps us in line by directing our rehearsals," Engelland said. "We're dedicated to Kilo. For example, Shawn Pelton, our drummer, will practice hours on a piece until he performs it exactly right."

The two female band members, Jones and Taliefero's sister Crystal — senior music major, percussionist and vocalist — develop the choreography for the band. "The girls need a lot of patience to teach the steps to the guys and myself," Taliefero said.

Behind the scenes, Tom Frederikse, sound man, and Craig Doubet, light technician, handle the electronic production equipment. "I remember that before one out-of-town performance, our production equipment went out. Tom and Craig connected many wires and once again, we were quickly pulled out of a possible disaster," Randle said.

A family-like relationship and a serious commitment keeps the "Kilo experience" positive for the band. "When I first came to IU, my mom told me that I'd find my true potential in Bloomington," Taliefero said. "She was right. Bloomington offers the perfect atmosphere to grow and find yourself."

Nancy Holwick

Roomless isn't rootless for Wright newcomersPrhe dorm floor lounge — a place to relax, study, party — and, for some, a mailing address.

Lanae McAllister and Dawn Pope were two students assigned to "temporary housing" in August. For the first three weeks of school, McAllister and Pope called the Foster-Jenkinson 3 lounge "home."

Students whose housing applications are late are often forced to live in lounges. The expected stay is about one week, although it frequently lasts much longer. Students who will live in lounges are notified during the summer. "A lounge? You think of like, snack bars," was Pope's reaction to her collegiate home. "Like, where are you gonna sleep?"

Several disadvantages go with living in a lounge. The first one cited by both McAllister and Pope was living out of a suitcase. "It really wasn't that bad at the beginning," said McAllister. "But as time went on, it got bad." "After a while it got to be a pain," Pope agreed. "It was disorganized, chaotic."

Lack of a telephone was another problem. Pope said her neighbors were great when it came to borrowing a phone. "You feel real bad about asking neighbors for a phone," she said.

Physical disadvantages of lounge living were matched by emotional ones. Pope said it was easy to get lost in the shuffle of a four-person room. For example, she said, one woman had a boyfriend, two others became close, and the fourth was left out. Time conflicts were also a problem when it came to juggling different schedules for studies, television, entertainment and sleep. The biggest emotional problem Pope and McAllister mentioned was getting a late start on the year. "Everyone was adjusted to their roommate and we hadn't begun," Pope said. Becoming involved in floor activities was impossible. Jenkinson-3 lounge residents were discouraged from running for floor offices or from signing up for intramural football. If their final room assignments were on other floors, they would be forced to give up the office or quit the team. McAllister considers herself lucky: Of the four women, she is the only one who was eventually assigned a room on J-3. The other women are in different buildings. Pope ended up in the Living-Learning Center in Foster Shea. "I was excited to meet my roommate and now I have one roommate instead of three," she said. Not only are lounge residents at a disadvantage, but remaining floor residents are inconvenienced as well. The other residents lose their "free space." According to McAllister, the Jenkinson-3 women, for the most part, were understanding. "What else was bad about the lounge? Maybe if I went back and sat in it, I could remember everything," Pope said. Tracy Schellenberger

Angie Gottschalk

hen Robert Rosenthal graduates, he plans to hit the road and make music his career.

That's a big move for someone who rarely listened to music before he came to IU. Music has taught him to deal with people, Rosenthal said. "I still can't look into anyone's eyes without a guitar, and my hands don't know what to do," he said, tearing a paper cup in his hands into tiny pieces. "Listening to music has changed my attitude," he said. "I can't listen to a song without tearing it apart. It can't help but change the way you perceive things."

Rosenthal said he found high school a drag and didn't really fit in; his freshman year in college was about the same. That's when he taught himself to play the guitar. "I played it in self defense. No one liked me. It was a rough freshman year, and there wasn't anything else to do," he said. "I came to Bloomington a snob from New York. I hate the person who came here. I was so bad to so many people. Indiana has been really good to me, and it has a lot of opportunities."

Rosenthal also taught himself to play most brass and reed instruments. He said that in high school he was the only one who practiced in band so he could play all the instruments.

Although he can read music, he said he doesn't. "I just listen to a record and play it. The words are harder to get than the music so it takes as long as it takes to learn the words," he said.

Once he learned to play the guitar, he began marketing his newfound talent. Rosenthal first played at Kiva coffeehouse in 1981. He has played at McNutt Quad's Holly and Ivy Christmas Dinner for four years. He has also played at Jeremiah Sweeney's, the Gold Rush and Bear's Place, and for 23 Tuesdays, he was the resident guitarist at the Rathskeller. "Most places don't pay well," he said. "Halloween weekend I made $12. There's not enough money to go around here. But I know there is money. It's out there because people are making their living this way," he said.

Rosenthal plays music by Cat Stevens, James Taylor, Paul Simon and Jackson Browne. He said he learned to play guitar from a James Taylor album. Rosenthal estimates his repertoire at about 150 songs he plays from memory. He usually plays in four-hour sets.

In addition to playing songs by popular artists and songs written by friends, Rosenthal also writes some of his own material. "I give myself assignments to write so I can get better. It's like my own little English class," he said.

He only has three songs he has written that he really likes. Two are unnamed and the third is titled "I'm Taking my Toothbrush from Your Bathroom, Because Darling I'm Saying Goodbye." He wrote this song in response to "rednecks at Sweeney's who wanted to hear `Elvira' and all the dumb stuff they asked me to play," he said. "It turned into a pretty damn good song."

Rosenthal said it's a strange feeling to be on stage. "You're relaxed because you know you are doing what you do best and you're better than them (audience) or they would be up there. You're also tense because you know in a drunk crowd, the right words from the right person and you could look like a complete fool sitting there," he said. The trick is to see what type of people are in the audience and be one of them, he said.

In addition to playing his guitar, Rosenthal works 30 hours a week at McNutt Quad's center desk and takes 18 credit hours. "I never study. If you go to class, you don't have to study," he said.

Most people don't understand what it means to be a musician, writer or artist unless they are one, Rosenthal said. "My parents would be kind of upset if they knew the kind of life I'm going to live," he said. "The thought of being alone the next few years scares me, but there's nothing else to do as far as I can see. I can express myself more easily with an instrument than just talking," he said. "It's something I'm good at. It's in me and I'll play until I can't. "I'd hate to see myself playing in the lounge of a Holiday Inn in Little Rock, Arkansas, but I'd be happier doing that than anything else," he added. "I came here as a nobody and now I'm an unknown artist. There's a difference, even if it is subtle."

Susan Tower

Brien Jones

“Domino's, may I help you?" Few students on campus haven't heard those words. But for senior Brien Jones, the words are particularly familiar. For nearly two years, Jones was a Domino's delivery man. "I thought it was going to be fun and I'd make lots of money at it," Jones said. "I was right!" He said it was the first job he ever applied for that he was given on the spot. "They wanted me to work that night."

Jones went through two cars in his stint at Domino's. The first was not a typical pizza car. Jones began with a Renault LeCar — with an American engine. It was fast, he said, which is what counts. Unfortunately, that car was "destroyed within one year."

Then came the typical pizza car: A Plymouth Valiant bought for $300. "That car was a riot," Jones said. Besides being without heat, the exhaust came into the car, and it always had the cheapest tires." "I was just a skid looking for a place to happen," he said.

Just as familiar as the telephone greeting and the delivery cars are the "red, white, and blue uniforms," Jones said. "They were made of a sandpaper -dacron blend," he said. "I felt like such a jerk in that uniform."

Several of Jones's wilder job experiences included delivering to fraternities. "Frats were just awful," he said. "Nobody wanted to deliver to frats — you can count on being harassed."

Jones said fraternities were bad about stealing. The common plot was to make the driver come to the house door. While his back was turned, fraternity members hidden outside would steal pizzas from the car.

Other memories include a time he fell down and "just splattered pizza all over," working with a sprained ankle, racing with other drivers and giving rides to customers. "I always thought they should diversify into a taxi service," he said. "I'd never seen anything like Domino's late Saturday night, early Sunday evening. People were hired just to answer the phone and pour Cokes. You could disappear for a while, and no one would notice."

Jones said Domino's drivers drive "like maniacs" to impress each other and the managers. "If they didn't hear rubber burning when you left, you were fired," he said. "My second car was so cruddy, you couldn't peel out."

But Jones said he never got a ticket while working for Domino's. What he did receive was a "Safe Driving Award." The qualifications? "You had to drive a certain amount of hours without getting in a wreck," he said. Of course, "little wrecks" didn't count.

After outlasting five managers, Jones quit delivering pizzas. Unlike some drivers who move to other pizza places, Jones got a job at the Geology Library where he now delivers maps instead of pizzas.

Tracy Schellenberger

-4

Joe Bennett

ountless students visit IU libraries daily in search of books of all types. But few probably think about the organization necessary to keep libraries running smoothly.

Part of the task is performed by cataloguers who update card files. Their work includes recording information such as the author of a book, the year it was published, its call number and a general description of its contents.

Joe Bennett understands this need for organization -- as senior cataloguer, Bennett keeps busy updating cards for the collection of rare books housed in the Lilly Library.

Born in New York on Christmas Day, 1913, Bennett has been involved in the book trade most of his life. He began by working for his father in their Manhattan bookstore, and said his interest in books influenced his decision to pursue a career as a cataloguer. Consequently, he worked in numerous bookstores, a bindery, the Parke-Bernet auction gallery and finally the Lilly Library, where he has been for 19 years.

Although Bennett credits the ParkeBernet gallery for teaching him most of what he knows about the book trade, he said he enjoys the variety and rarity of books available to him here. Bennett said a book from the Lilly Library is viewed mainly as an artifact rather than a source of information. He added that while the Main Library buys books for circulation, the Lilly Library purchases them for preservation.

The physical features of the Lilly Library enhance the sense of the books' value. When entering the limestone building, visitors are immediately exposed to a spacious room with high ceilings, paintings on the walls and sumptuous rugs on the floor. Books are displayed in glass-topped cases, and because they are so delicate, must be handled with the utmost care. Bennett said the books in his library cannot be checked out, but can be read in a special reading room.

Bennett said the library has the first editions of the Canterbury Tales, Pilgrims' Progress, Gulliver's Travels, Tom Jones and the first four Shakespearean folios. English literature from the 17th Century to the present comprises the library's biggest collection. The library also has strong collections in foreign languages, medicine, science, building and cooking.

For 15 years, Bennett said, many of the books now exhibited in the Lilly Library were held in a special collections library, where cramped conditions kept some books improperly stored in closets. These poor conditions created the need for a new, rare-book library.

Donations from Elizabeth Ball and Josiah Kirby Lilly, the library's namesake, allowed plans to be drawn, and the library opened Oct. 1, 1960. Because it depends heavily on gifts and grants from groups such as the IU Student Foundation, the Lilly Endowment Fund and the Ball Brothers Foundation, the growth of the collection is not steady. However, Bennett said, the library occasionally receives as many as 1,000 books a day, each requiring research and cataloguing.

Bennett said the 40 years of gratification he has received from his work have prevented him from growing old. At 72, dressed in khaki pants, T-shirt, jacket and sneakers, he could easily blend in with the collegiate crowd. Although Bennett now is semi-retired, he said he still derives pleasure from learning about and working with books. He is currently doing research to correct and update the card catalogue, and he teaches classes at the University on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Amy Pecar

Jim Greenwooc