On Dec. 6, 1977, 200,000 members of the United Mine Workers Union went on strike after contract negotiations with the Bituminous Coal Operators Association failed. As the strike surged into 1978, coal supplies began to vanish, pushing a university largely dependent on its coal supply to the nail-biting edge. State officials declared emergency energy cutbacks, and IU administrators had no choice but to close the school, giving students the first three-week spring break in IU history – and leaving the campus in the dark. Thirty years later, IU still remembers.
As snow fell, senior Bill Redpath was broadcasting hits. But instead of the voice of popular music, he became the voice of a storm that, in the midst of a coal addiction, would bring IU to its knees.\nIn late January 1978, the worst blizzard in state history struck southern Indiana, leaving Bloomington under a 15-inch blanket of white powder. It was the “storm of a lifetime,” and Redpath was on-air as each inch fell. A disc jockey at WTTS 1370 AM, the campus radio station, Redpath stayed on-air all night and into the early morning of Jan. 26, dutifully spinning records and reading weather alerts to late-night listeners. It was the week marking the start of the “Saturday Night Fever” soundtrack’s 24-week run at No. 1 on the music charts and IU’s spiral toward an energy crisis. \nClasses were canceled for the first time in more than a decade, and for three days, lunch trays became sleds, meadows became slopes and cars were engulfed in snowballs, waiting to be rescued. Residents reported wind chills as low as 40 to 50 degrees below zero and buses stopped for the first time in 11 years. \n“It was awful,” Redpath said, remembering frigid conditions which stopped shipments of food to campus. “We were all just waiting for closings or emergencies. It was brutal.”\nBy month’s end, 51 days into the coal miners’ strike, the latest blow in an already severe winter (January produced just more than 30 inches of snow alone) demanded more energy use to keep facilities warm. It was a tap into the coal supply the University could not afford to make again. \nWhen rumors of a strike began to flow during the previous summer, coal was stockpiled outside of the IU Physical Plant. According to a 1978 Indiana Daily Student article, the University saved 25,000 tons of coal, which loomed over the campus’s northwest side in a dark heap. With the unknown end date of the strike, the coal needed to last, or the University would face a dire energy crisis.
Into a crisis
“It happened quickly.” \nIt was the only way former IU Vice President Robert O’Neil could describe the events leading to the closing of a powerful state institution. Transpiring over months, the time flew by in what seemed like weeks. Stamps were 15 cents and the men’s basketball team was on its way to tying for second place in the Big Ten under infamous coach Bob Knight. \nOn an average winter day, the IU Physical Plant burned 4,000 tons of coal and depended on mines in Clinton and Sycamore, Ind., for its supply. The black stockpile was expected to last until mid-March, but one of the cruelest winters on record gulped down resources startlingly fast.\nTo conserve energy, the Physical Plant turned off all hot water in 39 non-residential campus buildings, thermostats were lowered and night access into many buildings was restricted. \nBy Feb. 1, IU was left with only 14,300 tons of coal expected to last 33 days. At the then-current rate of consumption – 440 tons per day – the school would be in a danger zone within 10 days. All but a few elevators were closed along with campus escalators, bathroom hand dryers, drinking fountains and ventilation fans. Street lights were reduced and room temperatures were brought down further to a chilling 60 degrees. \n“We can’t emphasize any more strongly that we are in a crisis situation ... This is the 10 dollar bill you’ve got in the heel of your shoe,” former Associate Director of the IU Physical Plant Robert Brunnemer said in a 1978 IDS article. \nIn February, the strike hit the two-month mark and surged forward without signs of stopping. On Feb. 9, O’Neil declared a 25 percent energy cutback in order to stifle the approaching ultimatum of a close. \n“We are down now to where it’s a question of will a faculty member teach in a classroom with light only from the windows,” he then told the IDS. “This is probably the most critical situation facing a university in some years.” \nAt the start of the controversy, then-IDS reporter Tom French had no idea how drastic the coal situation would get.\n“I was talking to O’Neil, and I said at the press conference, ‘We’re talking about lowering temperatures in classrooms again,’” French said. “But we could hear the noise from the bowling lanes from under our feet. We were wearing mittens to class already, but at least we could still bowl? It didn’t make sense.” \nA sophomore in the spring of 1978, French, who went on to win a Pulitzer Prize for feature writing, recalls writing about the “tense and frustrating situation” while living on tenderloins and Diet Cokes. \n“I would go back to the Union and then just write like crazy,” he said. “It was a big story.”
Facing the inevitable
On Monday, Feb 13, 1978, it got worse. As the stockpile shrunk to 9,100 tons of coal, news from the Indiana Public Service Commission struck like an overdue lightning bolt in a storm. All schools were to reduce their energy use by 50 percent. Forced blackouts could also be mandated in parts of Indiana for up to three weeks. \nOn Valentine’s Day, O’Neil made the announcement he knew had become inevitable. Facing penalization if the energy limit was breached, IU would close its doors for three weeks, tagging two extra weeks onto the regularly scheduled spring break.\nO’Neil revealed the decision OK-ed by then-IU President John Ryan, informing students and faculty that the campus would be virtually vacant from March 4 to March 26. Only a few faculty and staff were allowed to be in the buildings. \n“Nobody is less enthusiastic about anything that involves closing than I,” O’Neil told the IDS. “I would have gone right on through the snow storm if I had my own way and I would have gone right through this one (crisis) if I thought it could be done.” \nBut the rulings from state officials made staying open impossible. At the time, IU had already reduced energy usage by 40 percent. A further cut was unmanageable. Eigenmann would be the only residence hall available to students who needed to remain in Bloomington for the duration of the break, and missed classes would be made up on seven Saturdays and the first three days of finals week.\nFor those students who did stay on campus, facilities would be limited at best. The main library would be open only until noon and the Union would be shut down, along with most other buildings, on March 4.\n“There’ll be no services of any kind,” IMU Director Richard Blackburn told the IDS before the break. “The doors won’t even be open.”\nIt was just another nail in IU’s energy coffin, and the funeral would be held in the dark.
Blackout
On Saturday, March 4, 1978, the lights finally went out. All Bloomington emergency and street lights were cut from power as the campus settled into an eerie darkness. Campus building temperatures were lowered to 50 degrees. The University entered deep hibernation.\nExtra police patrolled the grounds to cut down on those who might take advantage of darkness’ shield for crime. O’Neil worried what impact the blackout might have on the safety of those who were left behind. \n“After the blackout campus was pretty forbidding,” he said. “It was a large campus with lots of open space. We anticipated anxiety and panic, but I can’t remember any that occurred. In fact, the spirit of the campus was remarkably impressive. We had no other choice but to step up and take it in stride.” \nThen, after more than three months, the strike was over. The damage, however, had been done. The University remained closed the full three weeks. For 24 days, IU lay silent in the dark. \nOn March 28, power was restored, and as winter relented, campus rose back to life. Although hot water was still turned off in non-residential buildings, most classrooms and offices returned to 65 to 68 degrees and escalators and elevators began running again. Students groaned about six-day-a-week classes, but graduation still went on as planned in early May. \nSlowly, IU recovered from the crisis and lowered its coal dependency. Currently, the Physical Plant still purchases 68,000 tons of coal a year, but can also operate on natural gas or fuel oil. Coal is still the most desirable because of its cheap cost, but the University would never face a complete blackout if a shortage were to occur again.\n“Thirty years ago, they were dependent solely on coal,” said Hank Hewetson, IU Physical Plant assistant vice president for facility operations. “The bigger issue is the cost. It costs three times as much to heat the campus on natural gas as it does to heat it on coal. We are more fuel flexible. The only danger now is the cost.”
