The letters are blocky, the handwriting rushed:

"We were here

Oct 1 1964

JPM

JPL

JPS"

This prehistoric message (well, pre-internet anyway) is scrawled in black on a bare concrete wall underneath the sidewalk outside the Rasmuson Library.

This wall is one of the oldest on campus.

"I don't know how old it is," said David Miller, Facilities Services Superintendent, "but it's part of the original structure."

We're deep within the infamous utilidors, tunnels twisting and weaving like a rabbit's warren beneath the University.

Armed with flashlights, a small group of explorers, including Chancellor Steve Jones, ASUAF Vice President Abbie Stillie, and University Relations and Sun Star representatives, have descended into the tunnels lead by Miller, with Charles "Chilkoot" Ward bringing up the lead.

"So no one gets lost," Miller said, a little too seriously.

The tunnels are musky, dry. They have an earthy smell with a hint of iron. Large pipes run along one wall carrying water and steam to all the buildings and back again. The other wall is lined with wires and conduits for phones, power and Internet. Every so often a sewage pipe cuts across the floor.

"It's amazing," said Jones. "This is really the digestive system and respiratory system of the building."

It certainly is a startlingly different atmosphere when compared to the carefully controlled environments in the buildings above us. It's more than a little surreal—unworldly.

Even the entrance to the tunnels, an ill-proportioned doorway—squat and creaky—seems like something straight out of Willy Wonka's factory.

"I feel so Nancy Drewish," said Stephanie Taylor, Sun Star's photo editor, as she ducked under an overhanging pipe, maneuvered around a large protruding valve and climbed down a short ladder.

"It does kind of remind me of Hogwarts," said University Relations' Photo Manager Todd Paris.

"It's easy to see how rumors and legends can develop," said Chancellor Jones. "It's just the adventure, it's kind of exciting. I can understand that allure."

With the exception of our two guides, everyone on the tour claims to be a first-time visitor to the utilidors.

"Now I can speak first hand when people lay the myths on me," said Jones.

And the myths certainly do get laid on thick.

Meth labs, roaming bears, prostitution rings, a cadaver or two, all have supposedly turned up in the utilidors at one time or another.

One of the current rumors floating around campus tells of all-out paintball tournaments held each semester—a sort of rite of passage for the tunnel dwellers.

But are the rumors true?

Chilkoot just laughs. "Do you see paint splotches all over the walls?"

I didn't. But that doesn't mean that students aren't down here; JPM, JPL and JPS would surely have something to say about that.

Even before those three ventured into the subterranean realm, students have been exploring the miles of tunnels.

In the early days of the University, mining students practiced their techniques, setting off dynamite in a specially designed shaft. The entrance to this "mining" tunnel has been permanently sealed of and, Miller said, has probably filled itself in.

During the Vietnam era students brought their special brand of love, sex, and rock and roll into the tunnels. It was easier to get in then, Miller said, and students took advantage of the dark and privacy of the "blisters," small rooms off the main tunnel perfect for laying out a mattress or a few sleeping bags.

"There was some really nasty stuff going on down there in the '60s and '70s," the chancellor said. "We don't want any repeats."

The utilidors have even served as cheap living quarters for cash-strapped squatters. Although that hasn't happened in many years, said Miller, due mostly to the heightened security.

"Getting down here and trying to live here is pretty tough," he said. "We've found more people living in grad offices and closets."

The University has made a concerted effort to keep students out of the tunnels, and with good cause according to Miller.

"Turning any one of these valves could have catastrophic results on campus," he said. "If someone got down here with malicious intent they could shut down the university."

A few years ago, a student exploring near the Patty Center, turned a valve empting the pool, sending water coursing through the tunnels.

The utilidors house the controls for power, phones, networks—the very workings of the University.

"I didn't realize how vulnerable the campus is," Jones said. "Just one person monkeying around can cause a lot of damage."

Miller, Chilkoot and their teams are determined to not let that happen. Security is a big issue in the tunnels. Multiple locks, fences, gates, barriers and alarms have all been installed to limit access. Mystery and a certain level of secrecy are also employed.

"It isn't a secret that they're here," Miller said, "but you won't find any maps. We don't advertise it."

But even the best security can't keep everyone out, Chilkoot said.

"If someone wants to get in, they'll get in."

Unauthorized persons caught in the utilidors can face charges of criminal trespassing or criminal mischief.

But despite the stories and bragging freshmen, Chilkoot says that not that many students have really been in the tunnels.

"A lot more people say they've been down there than actually have," he said.

"So I guess we can count ourselves among the few and the authorized," University Relations' Head Carla Browning said while we stood in the snow after emerging from the dry 85 degrees of the utilidors.

For a moment that felt really special, being among the few to see the inner workings of the University. It made me want to go back down and add my own bit to the message on the bare concrete wall:

"JPM

JPL

JPS

and RED."

See Video from the Tunnels!
Video 1 (164 kb)
Video 2 (1.7 MB)
Courtesy Carla Browning

Photo by Stephanie Taylor/ Sun Star
Chancellor Steve Jones makes his way through a tight spot in the utilador. The utiladors house many different utilities including water, electricity and phone lines.

Photo by Stephanie Taylor/ Sun Star
Maintenance superintendent David Miller talks about the inner workings of the utiladors while ASUAF vice president Abbie Stillie listens.

Photo by Stephanie Taylor/ Sun Star
Directions written on the walls of the utiladors tell utility operators the directions of the tunnels.

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