Grads chime in with memories of the Centennial Carillon Tower.
Fantastic Bells
By Jacob M. Barker (BS ’19), Los Lunas, NM
While a student at BYU, I took advantage of some of the fun classes BYU offered—organ, martial arts, skiing, and golf. But the class that made the biggest impression was carillon. Most students don’t realize that carillon is an option open to the general student body. I was not a music major, but having a background in piano and taking the beginning organ class was enough experience to do well.
Below the courtyard where the spotlights are, there is a small practice room that has the same console as the bell tower, but it doesn’t disturb all of campus. Something that was drilled into us was that we shouldn’t practice for all to hear. After working with R. Don Cook (BMu ’80, MMu ’82) for a few months, we decided I had enough material that was performance ready that I could “go live.”
One particularly memorable day was the day the movie Fantastic Beasts was released. I decided to commemorate it by playing the opening of “Hedwig’s Theme” from Harry Potter every hour on the hour. If you ever hear anything besides “Come, Come, Ye Saints” on the hour, then a carillonneur is in the tower playing. That day consisted of me being at the tower by 8 a.m., playing, running down the 99-step spiral staircase so I could get to class late, leaving class early to be back by 9 a.m., and repeating that all day until I was done with classes at 4. Then I could sit up in the bell tower for the rest of the night.
I will never forget the feeling of sitting at the console, looking around through the glass windows, seeing the students below, and thinking that they are all about to be unwillingly serenaded by me.
I Love U . . .
By Adrienne Powell Call (BA ’23), Provo
My recently official boyfriend, Adam M. Call (BS ’25), and I were taking a walk around campus. I was still feeling a little frightened and unsure about my first serious relationship, but for the time being, I was excited to see where it would go.
Our walk eventually led us to the bell tower, where we spent some time watching the sun set over the valley and scatter pink light on the mountains. I sighed and said, “I love Utah evenings.” In shock at my first three syllables, Adam didn’t hear the rest. Not wanting to appear hesitant, he quickly replied, “I love you!” I was blindsided. Not wanting to hurt him, but not ready to commit, I mutely hugged him and put my head on his shoulder, just as he was probably realizing what I’d actually said.
A few days later I decided that I did, indeed, love him. Once we were engaged he informed me that I had technically said, “I love you,” first.
Prelude to Progress
By G. Bradford Wright (BS ’80), Charles Town, WV
As a BYU freshman during the 1974–75 school year, I had the good fortune of staying on campus at V Hall in Deseret Towers. My dorm room was on the seventh floor facing south, giving me a gorgeous view of campus and Utah Valley (when the smog from Geneva wasn’t blocking it).
One day a large crane appeared right in front of my view, and pre-recorded bells began chiming church songs out into the air. At first it was annoying, but as they began to fine tune the music it became pleasant. This was, of course, a preconstruction trial to see what the bells would sound like when the bell tower was constructed.
As I visit campus now, 50 years later, and hear the bells, it takes me back to memories of the crane and the trials of figuring out the best mix of tower height, sound, direction, timing, and other features to foster an uplifting spirit on campus.
Towering Fame
By Andrew D. Schmidt (BA ’02, MS ’06), American Fork, UT
When I was a graduate student in the College of Education, my wife regularly brought our two young children to campus for a visit, and they loved listening to the bell tower. Our toddler, Nathan, was especially interested.
His fascination grew after I graduated. Endless pictures and craft projects of the bell tower littered our home, and we made frequent trips back to BYU to hear it ring.
At age 5 he wondered why he never received his own BYU bell tower for Christmas even though he asked for one every year. “Can’t Santa make one?” he pleaded.
“Santa” decided to borrow tools, stay up late, and get help from his father-in-law to build a 28-inch model of the BYU bell tower, complete with lights, miniature bells, built-in speakers, and an MP3 player with music recorded by my son’s childhood hero, BYU professor and carillonneur Don Cook. Nathan—the only kid on the block to get one—was delighted.
Then came the exciting day of the student carillonneurs concert. Nathan insisted that we attend and that he bring his bell tower. We arrived late, and an audience of carillon enthusiasts had already gathered. Nathan’s tower was a little heavy for a 5-year-old, so I carried it for him as we searched for a place to sit. I was unprepared for the stir we created carrying this one-of-a-kind replica. Heads turned, cameras clicked, and Nathan beamed at my side while I found a new appreciation for how celebrities must feel in public.
Bell Tower Nostalgia
By Alicia Burk Riley (BA ’93), Grand Junction, CO
As a freshman living in Deseret Towers, I often found myself with tears in my eyes as I heard the bell tower play “Come, Come, Ye Saints.”
The song brought back poignant childhood memories: When I was growing up, every time we sang “Come, Come, Ye Saints” in sacrament meeting, I would watch my dad as the fourth verse began. As he sang the words, “And should we die before our journey’s through,” he always had tears streaming down his face.
When I asked him why he was crying, he explained to me that he had been serving his mission in far away Australia when his father passed away unexpectedly. Then a few years later, my dad lost his mother. Because his mother had suffered for years from debilitating arthritis, he thought of her as he sang, “We then are free from toil and sorrow, too.” I was always touched by how much he missed them and how he honored them as he sang those words.
So every time I heard the bell tower chimes playing “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” I thought of my dad and his love for his parents, the grandparents I didn’t know.
Call for Stories: Holiday Memories
It’s spring, but already we’re looking ahead to Christmas break. Back when you were a student, how did you spend the weeks between fall and winter semesters? Did you go home, work to cover tuition, take a trip, stay on a quiet campus, volunteer, or find clever ways to celebrate no classes or exams? Did anything life-changing happen? Send us your story about a memorable student holiday.
Deadline: Oct. 15.
Y Magazine pays $50 for stories published in First Person. Send anecdotes of up to 300 words to firstperson@byu.edu. Submissions may be edited for length, grammar, appropriateness, and clarity.
