Replaying the ’Boro at 33-1/3rd

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afterwords archive
>	Are we on the air? By Linda Buchanan Wagner ’79
>	A generation in search by Nancy Obrien ’94
>	For you, A.J. by Ed Ziegler ’72
>	Whit one day, world the next by Marie Ranoia Alonso ’90
>	My brother’s keepers by Jim Koscs ’85
>	Can you say, “College is super-dee-dupor?” by Moira Jablon-Bernstein ’92
>	Project Santa from a New Perspective by Lisa Shea Linden ’86
>	The train to college by Dorothy Ciryak Clark Leonard ’76, ’84
>	Debating the future by Ron Weisberger ’65
>	A deeply-rooted relationship by Harriet Clevenger Lockwood ’88
>	Curtain or copy: a major decision by Susan Goodman Magod
>	The bear necessities of friendship by Qraig R. de Groot ’93
>	Special delivery by Darlene Beck-Jacobson ’74
>	A room of my own by Melissa F. Sherman ’86
>	The diploma by Ros Psolka ’90
>	Remembering Sabrina by Ros Psolka ’90
>	Who wants my 33s? By Jim Koscs ’85
>	Looking for a sign By Wendy Weber Crawford ’75, ’79, ’88
>	An ode to 27A South Main Street By Keith Forrest ’88
>	Our flag in the window By Lori Marshall ’92
>	Mail, mortality and American mettle By Brian Kass’85
>	Christmas trees in the Kremlin By Don Dunnington’97
>	Aimless and malcontent no more By Tim Zatzariny, Jr. ’94
>	Bringing the family By Susan Parker ’74
>	A little too soon for golden oldies By Keith Forrest ’88
>	Tale of a tile man By Sabatino Mangini ’01
>	Remembering Reagan By David Coyle ’81
>	Time well spent By Leigh Koebert ’97
>	Still a college kid... By Gregg Clayton ’81
>	What’s at the end of your “If only…”? By Carol Servino ’75
>	Catching the moment and the meaning By Casey Christy ’92, M’03
>	Starting at Glassboro, finishing at Rowan By Lori Samlin Miller ’77
>	Room to grow By Casey Christy ’92, M’03
>	Lifelong friends in spite of themselves By Patricia Quigley ’78, M’03

Replaying the ’Boro at 33-1/3rd
By Jim Koscs ’85

he controversy over MP3s—digitized song files exchanged over the internet—got me thinking about Rowan. Since music is such an integral part of student life, I wondered how many MP3s might be floating through ’Boro cyberspace.

Free MP3 downloads using the software program Napster have ignited a battle in the music community, because “free” means the artists don’t collect royalties. The battle moved into the courtroom when the Recording Industry Association of America sued Napster, and an injunction nearly shut down the internet upstart this past July. Going into the new school year, an appeals court was deciding whether to uphold the injunction while the case plays out.
Some colleges, including Rowan, had already banned the use of Napster on their networks, both to prevent digital traffic jams and to avoid possible litigation.

I don’t condone dodging copyright laws, but if I were a student today, paying hundreds of dollars for textbooks every semester, I think my computer might be brimming with MP3s. The only albums I bought in college were a used copy of The Allman Brothers’ “Eat A Peach” from a little record shop across from Bunce Hall and Deep Purple’s first album from the K-Mart on Delsea Drive. I still have both, but not for long.

I’m giving most of my collection to a nephew in college. He and a few friends have discovered the music of the ’60s and early ’70s, and playing it on vinyl completes the listening experience, they say. I haven’t played the records in years, having bought my favorites on CD long ago. Still, it’s an emotional chore to let them go. As a teenager, I probably climbed a million paper route stairs to buy them.

Poring over the records one last time triggered Glassboro memories—most of them good. I open Led Zeppelin’s “In Through The Out Door” and see the smeared inner-sleeve illustration. There’s a layer of “magic” ink lurking beneath the black and white surface, and carefully blotting it with a damp sponge brings up the hidden color. Self-proclaimed purists, on the other hand, who never cut out the Sgt. Pepper cut-outs, mailed the Pink Floyd album postcards, or connected the dots on “The Who By Numbers” album cover, preferred to leave it in original condition.

My freshman-year Linden Hall roommate Chris Davidson chose a third route, applying his saliva-dampened palm to the sleeve. “See?” he said as a smeared color palm print appeared. It must have been the color draining from my face that stopped him, but at least it was easy to forgive a good roommate. And no, non-colorized versions aren’t fetching a premium on e-Bay.

I’ll likely keep my 35 or so Beatles albums. In ’81, I thought they’d make me Linden Hall’s de facto Beatlemaniac. But that was Peter Devaney ’83, who owned at least that many bootlegs of the group. The following year, Peter produced and narrated a weekly Beatles program on WGLS and credited me with helping. I lent him one or two of the imported albums that he didn’t have.

Many of my records played over ’Boro airwaves during freshman year. Chris Franco ’84, a Linden Hall student advisor and a DJ on WGLS, borrowed my pristine-condition albums to make his Saturday afternoon programs sound better than was possible using the station’s well-worn discs. I helped to write playlists and cue the records, and some of the guys in the dorm would crank up their stereos to blast the music into the Laurel/Linden/Oak quad.

The wrangling over MP3s may give rise to a new model for internet music distribution, one that drives down prices and helps the environment by reducing packaging. But as I pack away my old records, I think how this progress comes with a price. MP3s are scratch-proof, but you can’t colorize them. And when you delete MP3s from a hard drive, attached memories go, too.

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Jim Koscs lives with his wife Christine Auda in Hawthorne. His company, AudaMotive Communications, specializes in PR writing and strategies for auto industry clients.