Emotions Swarm Campus Following Paterno’s Passing

By

StateCollege.com Staff

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January 23, 2012 – 3:10 am

The candle flickered in the stiff, cold wind but it did not blow out. The lights could not go out tonight.

It was more than 11 hours after Joe Paterno passed away at age 85 because of metastatic small cell carcinoma of the lung, a fancy way of saying spreading lung cancer. They gathered on the steps of Old Main, thousands more on the snow-covered lawn, some standing on the stone base of a pair of flag poles for a better view.

And what a sight. They brought their backpacks, smart phones, coffee, dogs, infants and cameras. Most importantly, they brought their candles and lighters. They brought their trumpets, trombones and clarinets. It was the pinnacle of an emotion-swept day on campus this cold, overcast day, one filled with tributes to the life of Paterno, the face of an institution.

Placed on the steps of the administration building, candles arranged to spell J-O-E. Below that, candles outlining the frames and lenses of his Coke-bottle glasses.

Then you a heard voice. Matt McGloin, the first former walk-on to start at quarterback in the Paterno era, stood atop of the steps and spoke about his coach — nay, more than just coach.

The quarterback spoke of a time too painful for many to recall; Nov. 9, 2011, the day Paterno was fired by the university’s Board of Trustees, in part, for not meeting a moral obligation to report suspected child-sex abuse to police. His heart pounding as he walked down McKee Street to meet with Paterno for the first time since his dismissal, McGloin was welcomed at the door by Paterno’s wife, Sue, and soon took a seat on Paterno’s couch.

‘This is so much more than a football coach,’ McGloin told the crowd gathered outside Old Main, sobbing. ‘He’s a father, and I consider him a friend.’

It is not so easy walking down McKee these days. Two police cars blocked off entrance at the intersection of Mitchell Avenue, a block down from the ranch home Paterno lived in since he purchased it for $58,000 in 1969. Try walking past, and police will warn you. They will warn you the family requests nobody place memorials or other gestures at the doorstep or on the lawn, as it would attract media to stake out the home. One cameraman was stationed outside the home shortly after 2 p.m. Sunday.

Smoke drifted out of the chimney on the snow-covered roof. A couple unlit candles sit at the front of the walkway, next to a sign that lay on the lawn. Curtains were drawn. The only clue there was any activity going on inside were fives cars parked outside the home and in the driveway.

Outside, silence, the same quiet heard inside the Pasquerilla Spiritual Center shortly after 11:30 a.m., two hours after Paterno passed away. Inside was a service for Sunday Mass. Paterno donated more than $4 million to Penn State, some of which went toward the on-campus spiritual center across from the library that bears his name. There was hardly a seat to be found when the priest called for a moment of silence to allow the congregation to bow and close its eyes in prayer, leaving its minds to wander and try to wrap around the harsh reality of what it lost.

Because there is only so much to say, and most of it has been said. Instead, look hard at the faces of those who gathered at a bronze statue of a man. See the tissues wipe away the tears. See the hugs, the melted candle wax, the hats, the pom-poms, the pennants. See Stefen Wisniewski, the former All-America offensive lineman, hear no crack in voice, see no tears in his eyes as he calls his former coach a superhuman legend reduced to a human.

‘The reality is Joe Paterno is a human being,’ Wisniewski said. ‘He’s done things in his life that require forgiveness, that require redemption.’

Nobody cheered. This wasn’t a time for cheering. They prayed. They cried. They stood with blank stares, below low clouds that created a majestic white sky, a light from the heavens brightly shining over a football stadium that was lit up in memory of its 85-year-old architect.

Gary Williams, a 58-year-old State College resident could’ve stepped outside of his home on Mount Nittany, where he’s lived for 10 years since moving to the area back in 1971. From there, he says, he can see the Bryce Jordan Center, where earlier he stood in silence for 10 seconds with everyone else in the crowd at the women’s basketball game to reflect on Paterno. A similar tribute was held across campus at Rec Hall before a wrestling meet and 550 miles away in a gymnasium in Bloomington, Ind., before the men’s basketball game, where the men’s team wore black patches on their uniforms and the coaches wore black ribbons in memory of Paterno.

He might think back to the first time he discovered Joe Paterno. It was 1968 at fisherman’s paradise, a fly-fishing respite at Spring Creek. Gary was visiting friends in the area and happened upon the then-third-year head football coach with Sue and his boys, who came to see the fish. Years later, working for West Penn Power, Gary would chat one-on-one with Paterno in his garage after a tree fell and knocked out his service line. No worries, Gary restored electricity in the home and there was light.

He told this story during halftime of the women’s basketball game, where the Lady Lions wore black patches on their left shoulder in honor of the football coach.

Shortly after the game ended, thousands raised their candles, amidst the Blue Band’s rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’ outside Old Main.

The wind blew, and this time a student’s candle went out.

No worries, he clicked his lighter, and there was light.

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