This is Mark Walker class of 1990.
I took my wife Susan to the campus this past Thursday to see what it looked like and to compare it to your description.
Well, I got to see the library as it was one final time, just minus the books. They began demolition on the interior after the crew agreed to let me walk my wife through it for 15 mins. As we walked away towards the Middle School I could hear the pounding of sledge hammers. All the librarians of the world would have demanded quiet, im sure. They are turning it into a conference/presentation room. The second floor may not be in the plan and the outside is also getting a facelift.
The Middle School has changed very little save reconfiguration of the new furniture. Upstairs is still a barracks and downstairs, where the classrooms were, currently serves as administrative space. The faux white washed wooden Roman columns were removed. The hedgerow behind it was cut through and a parking lot installed.
The interior of Molloy hall is still the same - the rec-room is still that - and the furniture is all right out of a Granger catalog or IKEA. Like ours it's crap, just newer crap. The prefect quarters still seems to be serving a similar function - I'm sure they are called RA rooms now. The Greco Roman ruin garden on the side of the hall is now a ruin itself and the gazebo is a dining hall for termites. Our classmates' names still remain gouged into the red brick by the back doors; a silent testimony to our passing through its halls marked with the year of our departures. The words "Led Zeppelin" carved into the brick above a back door will tell those who are pop culture astute that teenaged men in the 1970's and 1980's dwelled here.
The Old Complex as it was known to us (or by its official name William Dudak complex) is boarded up; the pool drained and awaiting the wrecker's ball. Mr. Aschehaur left a family photo behind. It was strewn amongst the trash on the basketball court, at the entrance to where his office once was. Tossed aside by a workman. The whole interior has a musty smell and a haunted quality to it, but only ghosts I could see and hear. My wife was unaware of their presence - a picture of a past her mind's eye was blind to.
The weight machines are in a scrap metal company's roll-off bin; awaiting a fate as paper clips or automobile panels in some future life. The Field House by the baseball diamond is no more, replaced by a utilitarian tractor garage.
St Joseph's Hall is undergoing a transformation. The two top floors are still living quarters and the bottom two floors offices and classrooms. Once again new furniture and desks were mixed in with a few pieces that once served "The Long Grey Line." The carpet still remains, as does the smell of the building. One can close his eyes and be taken back in time by that industrial smell created by the glues and bonding chemicals used in the carpet's production.
One can still hear all the old voices and see all the old faces - the door to the Senior Steps open in Spring as we awaited the release of Summer and the passing into the "World of the Working" of yet another graduating class. A process that all of us took for granted that it would go on year after year.
The Locker Room is devoid of a the lockers wehre we once stored our possessions, save for three awaiting a trip to the scrap pile. The rifle racks have found no other purpose, as they were built for a singular one in their lives and cannot be adapted to any other function than to house a rifle or its variants. The cages they occupy stand open and empty. Some graffiti remains, proclaiming Charlie Company or Hotel company as the best in the regiment.
Toni's Barber shop is now used to store paint. The counters and one mirror still remain. If you look hard enough into its polished silver surface you can see her smiling at you and hear her telling you some perky bit of wisdom.
Company Street is now cracked and losing its battle with grass and weeds; the bricks dislodged. The cast-iron posts no longer have their lamp heads. The Senior Steps are now askew - loose and even dangerous to walk on. The marble slabs give way to human tread. The columns and roof have been removed. St. Joseph's statue still looks out over the Esplanade from his perch above the end of Company Street.
The Esplanade is now crumbling; giving way to gravity and the force of the earth that was piled up to create its height. That earth work is now pushing through the mortar and stone work, bulldozing down bricks and casting out the stone railing supports like dowels.
The flag still flies faded and tattered on the pole the above the abandoned parade grounds. There there will never be another pass in review; no more junior ring day. The last class has relinquished its command to History and memory. No cadets to take it down come sunset, the brass truck atop it now green with petina. Only a ghost to sound taps.
The Mess Hall, where many a questionable meal was served and many a dance was held, remains unchanged in its purpose but time has not been kind to it either. Brick separates from mortar here as well. The Mansion's exterior has changed little as well as its interior. The tapestry walls still remain as well as the book collection in the Sunroom library. The portrait of Legend still remains in its place above the mantle. Once underclassmen were told if it were removed, the whole structure would collapse.
The Boathouse Student Center is now boarded-up, also awaiting the wrecker's ball. The original Boat dock house behind it, once off-limits to cadets due to its age, has now fallen into the water in a pile of planks and beams. Its dock now submerged under the weight of the debris.
Centennial Hall - the home of the Drum and Bugle Corps, Jazz Band and the Theater Troupe - still serves as a living arts center but the music practice rooms seemed to have become storage. Its once-gleaming white modern exterior is dirty and uncared-for.
The tennis courts are now overgrown and almost unrecognizable. This fate has also befallen the Track and Field area, the pea gravel track being reclaimed by the adjoining woods and grass. The pole vault run and shot-put pit still tell of its past.
The Computer Center still bears Bro. Miguel's name but was locked and I was unable to ascertain its function. Its exterior once white is now dirty and unkempt. The PX and Sick Bay are now workshop and storage, Mrs. Eisel's materials table is now a workbench. The back wall of the PX still remains with a few shelves and hanger racks in place. Very little is left to tell of our passing this way save for three stained glass windows in St Joseph's Hall with our name, and the year 1883.
Alumni Park is now cleared out devoid of trees and the benches of which only 2 remain. The red paint is gone; the wood exposed and rotting in the elements. The rock bearing the plaque dedicating the park to all LSMA graduates still remains, to tell those occupying our ground our spirit will remain to pass and review no matter what they knock down or build in its place - until "Taps" is sounded for the last of The Long Grey Line.
George I wish I had the foresight to bring my Leika and 50 rolls of film but I'm glad my wife to see it as I remembered it. When you go back to the places of your youth it's not the place you long for - it's your youth and the people you spent it with
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