re: For the Old Timers. What was it like living in Tiger Stadium?

Pt 2-

In the 80's, we weren't always certain what time kickoff would be, or if the game would even be televised. We generally liked it if we saw an ESPN semi, or Jefferson-Pilot in the parking lot. That meant it was televised and going to be a night game. But if we saw that damned CBS truck in the parking lot by West Stadium on Wednesday, we knew it was gonna be a frickin' day game. (Bastards!)

On Friday mornings before a home game, LSU Police would drive by slowly and chirp their sirens at 6:00 AM and announce over the speaker that all students would have to relocate their cars from the parking lot 7:30AM to make room for the RV's who were already lined up and ready to set up their tailgates. I complained about the RV's until I started getting fed regularly on game days by one family I had met because they wanted a photo of their kids with a "real Tiber Band member." I still hear from the Landrys every year around Christmas, despite not having seen them tailgating at a game since 1988.

Great friends were made among the denizens of "The Cave," as we called it in South Stadium. North Stadium guys called it "The Rock." Ernie (his name was actually Pat, but he laughed like Ernie from Sesame Street, so...) - Ernie was from Norco. Joe was in Air Force Reserve and was a non-traditional student. He was from New Orleans. Frank, RA on the 2nd floor, was from New Orleans as well. (Frank was the one who would share the sports section from the paper with you during your morning constitution.) Druis was next door to me on the first floor. He was the first room on the left when you came into the lobby. He was from Houma. Wayne, the trombone player, was from Nine-Mile Point/Westwego. His was the first room on the right of the lobby. Dave F., was the senior RA and was from Columbiana, Ohio. David M., was a mechanical engineering major from Ville Platte. He taught me that grape jelly on scrambled eggs in the morning wasn't actually too bad. Yeah, he had a thick Cajun accent too. Phil was from Winnfield. He was studying journalism and wanted to be a sportscaster. I was the hillbilly from Kentucky with the gawd-awful accent that nobody could understand without me repeating things four or five times. Eventually, I got earnest about learning to speak properly without that east Kentucky twang, but it's still not completely defeated even today.

The last time I was in the stadium dorms, I was visiting Ernie. He had moved to the fifth floor of North Stadium. I'm glad he liked to cook because we missed dinner that evening when one of the "unofficial-guys-somewhat-associated" with the basketball team decided to take Mike IV hostage in an effort to get his visa extended. We had first row balcony seats for the whole ordeal from our vantage point in Ernie's room. I could go on and on about that, but I figure I've written enough already. I'll save that one for another day.

I hope that added something worthwhile to all the answers you've received so far about life in the stadium. I appreciate you asking it and allowing me to relive nearly forty-year-old memories of the best days of my life. Even more - I appreciate reading all the stories from those who lived there before me.