Commentator Interview:

The Amphitheater Knob

a candid conversation with a spherical mass of lowest-bidder concrete pouring

Oftentimes great architecture is defined not by what's there, but rather by what isn't. Consider great architects like Joseph Emberton, Marc Corbiau, Pierre Koenig, and Frank Lloyd Wright, who understood the art of sophisticated subtlety. Any one of these men would be proud to claim the EMU Amphitheater Knob as their own creation. In that sense the Knob can be seen as tribute to architecture embodying elements of the "art deco" school, both past and present.

Or maybe it just represents an extra wheelbarrow of concrete and somebody's idea of a practical joke. Either way, there it is: strategically positioned - some would say "hidden" - in an out-of-the-way the corner of the EMU Amphitheater along 13th.

On a sunny day you can find people sitting on the Knob, strumming their guitar, reading poetry, seeking the answers to the great questions of the universe, or just lighting up a jay. Until the The Oregon Commentator conducted this interview, few really knew where the Knob came from, and those who did weren't talking. It just kind of popped up in the spring of 1998 after the revamping of the EMU. It stood alone, brooding and silent, in the style of the great cupolas of Europe.

The Oregon Commentator, long a fan and admirer, went to the Knob in search of answers. Where did you come from? What are your interests? Are you tired of being urinated on after basketball games? Are you really there, or just a mass hallucination brought on by drinking stale bong water? We found the knob to be very receptive to our questioning, conducted by OC Associate Editor Brian Boone, despite showing up to the interview slightly tipsy and rather jolly on Vicodin.

Graphics By Jeremy Jones

Commentator: First of all, let me thank you for doing this interview. I hope this is a good time.

KNOB: No, it's not. I had a full schedule of sitting around doing nothing planned, so make it snappy, huh.

Commentator: A lot of people call you just "the knob" or the "EMU Knob." What, if any, is your real name?

KNOB: If it's okay, I'd rather not say. I don't want people calling me by name. It's bad enough people curse me when they walk by. Or wonder why there's only one of me. "To know someone's name is to own a little piece of them."

Commentator: Is that Heidegger?

KNOB: No, I think it was in "American Psycho."

Commentator: That's a good book.

KNOB: It's a book now?

Commentator: You're sure you don't want to give us your name?

KNOB: What the hell. It's Knobby. Knobby McKnob.

Commentator: You made that up just now, didn't you?

KNOB: Of course I did. You think I'd be officially named? Nobody names an architectural oversight.

Commentator: Speaking of architectural oversights, let's go all the way back. What were the circumstances of your birth?

KNOB: Try and keep it quiet, but I'm actually an alien. As an infant, my home planet was on the brink of infinite destruction, so my father, played in a memorable cameo by Marlon Brando, tied me to a little tiny rocket-ship and sent me to earth where I was raised by a loving, yet ignorant Midwestern couple who kept my super powers under wraps.

Commentator: With all due respect, that's Superman's story.

KNOB: I gotta come up with something. I don't think you truly realize how boring my world is. The truth is boring and sad: I am an uninteresting and a ridiculously simple building accouterment made out of concrete and designed by an unemployed artist.

Commentator: And then you were installed in the EMU in early 1998.

KNOB: Yep, for three whole years I have been the most recognizable and beloved eyesore on campus, second only to the PLC.

Commentator: So if you've only been around since 1998, does this mean you're only 3 years old?

KNOB: In human years, I'm 3. But in knob years, I'm 24.

Commentator: Well, what was your childhood like?

KNOB: Pretty typical really. Frolicking in fields with pet dogs that also were made out of concrete. Grade school and junior high were fine. Did a little theater, spent several wet autumns playing soccer, where I was the ball. I briefly interned for a monolith in high school. I ended up here when the University recruited me. Their knob quota was dangerously low and they were going to get in trouble with the affirmative action people.

Commentator: What are some of the events that stand out most during your time at the University?

KNOB: You know what? I might as well just show you some pictures. They could tell you a lot more than I could remember.

There's one of me at a Mac Court game.

This one was from 1998-that's me pulling down the street sign, just after throwing a bottle at a cop.

There's some baby pictures around here somewhere. Go ahead and take these.

Commentator: A lot of structures have knobs, but most structures generally have an even number of knobs that are placed symmetrically around the perimeter of a building. What's wrong with you?

KNOB: Have you ever looked at the EMU? Then you'll realize how unattractive and asymmetrical it is. It looks like one building sneezed onto another building. If they had two knobs, there'd be a little shred of beauty and elegance, and that just wouldn't make any sense. And since there's only one of me, I feel special.

Commentator: What about those smaller, weed-covered knobs over by Gerlinger and Campbell?

KNOB: They're my brothers and sisters. Being sedentary has prevented be from visiting them as much as I would like.

Commentator: Let's get into campus issues.

KNOB: If we must.

Commentator: Do you agree with Ryan?

KNOB: Sometimes.

Commentator: Are you religious?

KNOB: No, but I've got a lot of coping mechanisms: yoga, taking it out on others. Often I pray to St. Thomas of Paquae, the patron saint of bad postmodern architecture.

Commentator: Seeing as how you're a prime campus icon, what's your take on last year's WRC hubbub?

KNOB: You know, every damn TV station interviewed me during the protests. Apparently, it was because I just always happened to be "hanging around" campus in a fixed, stationary point, what with being a knob and all. Frankly, I'm sick to death of talking about those protesters. I'm pretty much apolitical, but those kids had a point, even if they were totally clueless about what they were protesting about. Hey, did you ever notice how fat some of those people were? Geez, I'd find their argument a lot more compelling were they not chunky little piggies. You eating zebra cakes, meanwhile talking about exploited, hungry workers overseas just isn't a convincing argument. It's like those Sally Struthers/Feed the Children commercials. But there you go, steps of Johnson Hall: fat rich sociology major after fat rich sociology major.

Commentator: Is it really fair for you to talk about somebody's body type?

KNOB: What, you mean because I'm round? Hey, bitch, this is muscle. Hard as rock. Mostly concrete actually. Yeah, I stand pretty still most of the time, got a sedentary job, but I still find the time to exercise, even if its just running up a couple flights of stairs at lunchtime or hurling myself at passers-by. I also got me one of them Jack Lalaine Juice machines.

Commentator: Sounds like you watch a lot of TV.

KNOB: I'm a knob. What else do I have to do?

Commentator: You could get a hobby.

KNOB: Is drinking excessively a hobby?

Commentator: It sounds like you don't get out much.

KNOB: No, my friends help me go places. It's not easy to drag a concrete knob around town, so much props to them. In '99, me and my frat brothers went to San Padre Island for Spring Break. Oh my god, it was so sweet! What I can remember of it I mean. I'm pretty sure I was on "Say What Karaoke" and I'm pretty sure I remember having sloppy seconds on a Mexican hooker. I brought back a case of this really excellent caramel tequila you can't get in the United States.

Commentator: So you're a student then?

KNOB: I'm taking a break. Maybe I'll go to Lane next term and get my grades up. I'm probably not college material and I don't really have any job prospects.

Commentator: Any career goals?

KNOB: I'm only a knob right now, but I could be so much more. Maybe I could be carved into a gargoyle, or maybe a real statue…a monument even!

Commentator: Do you ever get dressed up all sexy and go out on the town, trolling for other horny knobs on the make?

KNOB: That's disgusting, but to answer your question, no, I'm in a committed, monogamous relationship.

Commentator: Then you have a special someone in your life?

KNOB: I usually don't like to talk about my personal life in the press, but, yes, I've been dating a certain highly visible campus figure for about two years now. He's been involved with student government and files a lot of grievances. Let's just call him "Scott A." Hmm…maybe that's too obvious. No, let's call him "S. Austin."

Commentator: You're in love with Scott Austin?

KNOB: I call him Stone Cold Scott Austin, and I wouldn't call it love so much as I would call it mutual lust, or just plain settling. But, yeah, that boy is my bitch.

Commentator: So this means you're gay?

KNOB: Gay? Whoever said that I'm even a guy.

Commentator: So you're a woman?

KNOB: No! I'm a knob. I reproduce with spores or something, I don't know.

Commentator: Well, anyway, how did you and Scott Austin meet?

KNOB: He filed a grievance against me for being alternately "too knobby" or "not knobby enough." I went to the ASUO Senate meeting to defend myself, and the sexual energy between us was just flying.

Commentator: You mentioned your attendance at an ASUO meeting. Would you like to comment on your governmental escapades?

KNOB: As you probably know, I ran for ASUO Executive in 2000. Unfortunately, I lost to another knob, Jay Breslow. And what's up with him and Holly [Manger, Breslow's vice-president.-Ed.] anyway? Are they a little too friendly to be cousins, or is it just me?

Commentator: Don't resort to mudslinging.

KNOB: Oh, he only beat me because he isn't an inanimate object. Being made of concrete and not being a sentient being in any way is both a blessing and a curse.

Commentator: Other than being able to carry on a conversation, what sets you apart from other knobs, particularly those in the campus neighborhood?

KNOB: I am sexy, I'm into acid jazz and I always give perfect advice.

Commentator: If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?

KNOB: One that was completely stationary and overlooked by everyone that passes it. So any kind, really.

Commentator: Knobby, you are a true inspiration. Do you have any advice for the kids out there? KNOB: Tell them not to pee on me on Friday nights. Also tell them not to spray paint graffiti on me. I am not a means to announce an ISA coffee hour or an anarchist meeting.

Commentator: What three words would you say best describe you?

KNOB: Hmmm. Concrete. Inanimate. Misunderstood. A caring listener. That was more than three. Hey, do you mind if I ask you a question?

Commentator: Go ahead.

KNOB: How do I put this gently... well, why are you talking to a concrete knob?

Commentator: It was an assignment. I don't ask questions of my editors. They're a little drunk and a lot unstable.

KNOB: Okay, I was just making sure. And you are well aware of the fact that everything I said in this interview was completely imaginary and likely a hallucinatory effect of a prescription-drug induced fever dream, right?

Commentator: Pretty much. I'm just projecting onto you my intense loneliness and sense of crippling boredom.

KNOB: So you do know that knobs aren't living and they can't talk and that I'm not real and we're not really talking right now, correct?

Commentator: Knobby, you're the most fascinating person I've met on this campus.

KNOB: I sure am.

Brian Boone, a senior majoring in Journalism and Theater Arts, is an Associate Editor for the Oregon Commentator