Zuzana Giertlova dons her detective hat and pigs out. Read this and more in the April issue of The Blue & White, on campus this week!

Illustration by Louise McCune, CC '13

Rumor had it there was a pig living in a University-owned building somewhere in the city. The Blue & White took it upon themselves to investigate, and set out to find either pink, porky proof or call hogwash on the matter. But a Skype date with Gus and his landlords, to whom we will refer by their self-selected pseudonyms, proved the tail true.

“Young Dirty Tree Hugga” (YDTH) and the less flatteringly labeled “Broken Johnson” verified that a mini Vietnamese potbelly indeed inhabits their living space, despite the University’s ban on animal residents. But losing the hairs on their chinny-chin-chins is well worth the risk. As Broken Johnson explains, “he nuzzles me for hours.”

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Illustration by Chantal McStay, CC '15

Sylvie Krekow investigates a forgotten tale of campus larceny. Look for this and more in the forthcoming April issue of The Blue & White.

Few at Columbia were thrilled when Livingston Hall was renamed Wallach Hall. “I do remember there being people, including myself, who thought that was the wrong thing to do,” recalls an anonymous CC alum. The building was originally named after Robert Robert Livingston, a King’s College graduate who enjoyed an illustrious political career—he was even one of the five original drafters of the Declaration of Independence. But after a generous donation from Ira Wallach, CC ’29, LW ’31, to renovate the building, the founding father’s name was literally ripped off of the building and mounted onto a bulky hardwood sign that hung inside a Hartley housing office. Livingston was thus replaced with the surname of the newer, wealthier benefactor. For many undergrads, this amounted to nothing less than an underhanded buy-in to Columbia’s cultural institutionality.

Be on the lookout for the February issue of The Blue & White, coming to campus this week. In the meantime, Bwog will again honor our heritage/amorous affair with our mother magazine by posting features from the upcoming issue. Such treats include a visit to the Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory, an investigation into Columbia’s animal testing practices, and the first part of a discussion on The Columbia School. Below, metalhead Jed Bush sets out to solve the mystery of those flyers scattered around Westside urging you to buy concert tickets.

Illustration by Adela Yawitz, CC '12

Upon entering Westside Market, posters for Eve to Adam, an “anthemic, guitar-driven rock band,” flank patrons on both sides. Ian Joskowitz, Westside manager, will shamelessly promote their music to anyone that will listen. With a dorky name and decidedly un-hip genre, one wouldn’t expect them to be on the edge of stardom, yet they boast 30,000 Facebook fans and are ranked 26th on the Mainstream Rock Chart. Their lead single “Run Your Mouth” channels an edgier, sleazier, bygone era of rock dominated by the likes of Guns N’ Roses and Van Halen. More impressively, the music video features everyone’s favorite Law and Order captain, Donald Cragen (played by Dann Florek). Oddly, the transformation of Eve to Adam from neighborhood scrubs to a legitimate power in the surprisingly vibrant Morningside Heights hair metal scene hinged on their Westside connection.

When drummer Alex Sassaris started moonlighting as a bartender at Vareli, another eating establishment managed by Joskowitz, Eve to Adam got their unlikely break. As Joskowitz puts it, “He kept shoving his band’s CD in my face, and, after a couple months, I finally gave it a listen, and, who knew, it turned out to be really fucking good!” Despite having no
experience running a record label, Joskowitz and fellow Westside Market manager George Zoitas agreed to manage the band, forming their all-in-one label, management, and publicity company 3for5 Entertainment.

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In the latest issue of The Blue & White, available this week, staff writer Sylvie Krekow discovers enlightenment while in line at Morton Williams.

Illustration by Liz Lee

Calling itself the “University Super Store,” the Morton Williams supermarket on 116th Street and Broadway has a storied, eight-year history on campus as the home of overpriced goods, under-enthusiastic employees, and walls adorned with photographic Columbia idolatry. But for all its—shall we say—character, it is one single piece of technology that gives Morton Williams the upper hand in the battle for neighborhood grocery supremacy: the ticker, a half-functioning beacon of knowledge and inspiration that hangs from the ceiling’s perimeter and scrolls quotes like “WHAT DO SNOWMEN EAT FOR BREAKFAST? SNOWFLAKES – AUTHOR UNKNOWN!” across its blinking, red LED matrix.

As with any sign, the ticker theoretically communicates messages to the store’s customers. It’s really okay, for example, that you just paid way too much for that Haagen Dazs because “AUTHOR UNKNOWN!” can cheer you up with a clever pun. But the ticker’s high, out-of-the-way placement means that customers often overlook it. Even one Morton Williams employee was surprised to learn of the ticker’s existence when we pointed it out to her during an interview.

Those who do happen upon the mythic ticker may have their shopping experience brightened by the food-related quotes from William Shakespeare. Or the wisdom that “COOKERY IS NOT CHEMISTRY. IT IS AN ART. IT REQUIRES INSTINCT AND TASTE RATHER THAN EXACT MEASUREMENTS,” a quotation from some man named Marcel Boulestin who presumably had something to do with food before he died. Or, maybe he’s still alive—your guess is as good as ours on this one. Morton Williams’s manager couldn’t offer us much help, either: “We don’t pick the quotes. They come in the machine pre-loaded,” he said.

So to that nameless signmaker out there who apparently gave up a career as a littérateur to become a mere letterer, we hope you take comfort in the fact your ticker has enlightened us. But we do urge you to reconsider your profession. Pursue your passion for literature before it’s too late, for as your own ticker says, “THE APPETITES OF THE STOMACH AND THE PALATE, FAR FROM DIMINISHING AS MEN GROW OLDER, GO ON INCREASING – CICERO.”

In the latest issue of The Blue & White, senior editor Hannah Lepow explores the oft-forgotten Roerich Museum, on 107th street between Broadway and Riverside.

Beyond the familiar corners of 107th Street, where O’Connell’s and Lime Leaf duel for undergraduate attention, lies a little-known oasis of quiet. The Nicholas Roerich Museum, tucked away in an unassuming townhouse between Broadway and Riverside, is home to hundreds of the Russian artist’s mystically themed tempera paintings and host to frequent cultural events. “[The museum] is on the hidden gem side of the spectrum,” says Trenton Barnes, CC ‘12, a former Roerich Museum intern. Although most Columbia students may not frequent the museum, it is far from empty.

Illustration by Maddy Kloss

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