When the University of Texas tower was built in the 1930s it dominated the surrounding landscape. Only the Texas State Capitol, which sits nearly a mile south of the tower, rivaled its stature. Architect Paul Philippe Cret said that the tower was “the image carried in our memory when we think of the [University].”
For many, perhaps most, the tower, adjacent to the Main Building, represents what its official webpage claims: “Opened in 1937, it has become an icon, bathed in orange lights to celebrate academic honors or athletic victories, and serving as the backdrop for convocations, rallies, concerts and demonstrations. To alumni, the tower is a tether to the past; to all, the 307-foot tower is the definitive landmark of the University.”
On August 1, 1966, the tower took on a new meaning when Charles Whitman ascended the tower and shot at the innocent below, killing fourteen people: “Instead of seeing the tower,” A Sniper in the Tower author Gary Lavergne said, “he saw a fortress,” a bastion for his dark inclinations.
Nine people indeed have died as a result of falling or jumping off of the tower.
The University permanently closed the tower observation deck in 1975 after the shooting and subsequent suicides. Once available to the public, the best view in Austin and the site of so much suffering was hidden from the eyes of Texas. The tower remained closed for nearly twenty-five years.
For many, the death associated with the tower has permanently changed its meaning. William Helmer was on campus when Whitman began his sniping spree. Twenty years later the specter of the tower still haunted him: “But if I’m walking from the Main Building across that wide concrete mall, say, or along one of the inner-campus drives, I can’t quite shake an ever so slightly uneasy feeling that the tower, somehow, is watching me.”
In 1998, University President Larry Faulkner recommended reopening the tower following student insistence. Redefining the meaning of the tower was at the core of his recommendation. During a meeting of the Board of Regents, “President Faulkner noted that the tower is the most important symbol of academic aspiration and achievement in Texas, and it is the strongest image uniting members of the University community. He pointed out that, should this symbol of achievement remain closed to the public, the University community is left with only the history of unfortunate experiences associated with the tower and few occasions to create positive experiences for new generations.”
Others eagerly agreed about “reclaiming” the tower. Charles Locke, the former tour coordinator at the tower, said, “One of the benefits of reopening the tower is that we can reclaim it as a symbol of academic excellence represented by the university.”
But, despite any amount of effort, tragedy still haunts the tower. The walls still talk – if you know where to listen. The south façade is scarred with refilled pockmarks formed by bullets shot from below. The northwest corner, where Whitman was killed, has a tiny piece of stone cut out where a bullet struck. The beautiful view contrasts inevitable macabre thoughts. The tower’s official webpage casts a cheerier atmosphere and does not mention Whitman, but Derro Evans’s harrowing 1967 words still suffice: “The tower has still to be purged, for the memory of terror remains too harsh and too real to pass into darkness.”