Ringing Proudly: History of the LSU Clock Tower
About a year ago when I first arrived at LSU as a freshman, I was wandering somewhere near the parade grounds when the LSU clock tower proudly rang out the hour. I looked up at the tower as it played the glorious tones of the alma mater and noticed something odd about its face: the traditional Roman numeral four was replaced by some deviant form.
At first, I dismissed this peculiarity as just another one of LSU’s idiosyncrasies, but recently it’s been brought to my attention again because the clock tower is such a huge part of the campus community. I did some research, and found some interesting facts surrounding the tower—not only to explain the odd numeral, but also general history and tradition surrounding the eminent edifice.
Memorial Tower, the official name for the clock tower, rises 175 feet above the LSU campus, chiming triumphantly every quarter hour. Erected in 1923 as a memorial to the Louisianan heroes who died in World War I, its rotunda contains bronze plaques that bear the names of all 1,447 fallen Louisiana soldiers from World War I. The tower is constructed in a traditional Italian Renaissance architecture style called ‘campanile’ (hence the nickname), which is an Italian word meaning ‘bell tower.’ The most famous of this style is the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but campaniles can be found throughout the world, and are particularly popular on college campuses. The inside of the tower is also a military museum and the cornerstone recovered from LSU’s predecessor, the Louisiana State Seminary of Learning and MIlitary Academy, is also on display.
Of course, the main purpose of the tower is as a timepiece. Every quarter hour, students are made aware of just how much time is left in class by the bells—which play the Westminster Quarters, a melody commonly used by clock towers; at noon, the alma mater is played, keeping the moral of campus particularly high until game day, when the LSU March played by the Golden Band supplants it as the most distinguished refrain on campus.
Also important to the Campanile’s significance are the traditions that keep it relevant in campus life. Specifically, the plaza in front of the tower is home to a few events that take place every year. The Student Government induction, at which the new President and Vice President are installed into office, takes place each spring right in front of the tower. On Valentine’s Day, one of the most important student traditions transpires at midnight: a student must be kissed underneath the tower when it chimes at midnight in order to become an “official LSU student”. February 14th is the only day the clock tower rings after 10 PM. The annual Christmas Tree Lighting, which attracts visitors from all over Baton Rouge, also takes place in the plaza and is the background for the monumental tree which adorns campus for the holiday season.
The most intriguing characteristic of the campanile, and the only one that all of the tour guides seem to point out, is the peculiar fourth numeral, which on the clock is displayed as ‘IIII’. This, of course, deviates from the fairly standard subtraction notation of the Roman numerals, which denotes four as ‘IV’. This oddity is actually fairly commonplace, though—at least among clocks. There are many theories for why this is the case, but any actual reasoning seems to have been lost in hundreds of years of tradition. One theory is that IV is much too holy to be displayed on a clock: the first two letters of the Latin name (IVPPITER) of the Roman god Jupiter is IV. Of course, that really isn’t the best theory, because mechanical clocks didn’t appear until many centuries after the collapse of the Roman empire (at least according to everyone except Shakespeare). Another theory is that King Louis XIV of France—Louisiana’s namesake—disliked the traditional Roman numeral, and ordered all clockmakers to manufacture clocks with the preferable IIII. This is also not a very good theory, because it relies on the idea that a mandate from a monarchy would be perpetuated throughout several continents centuries later.
Perhaps the best theory is one of aesthetics—by denoting four in this manner the clock face seems to be more symmetrical. Written as IIII, four balances the heavy VIII exactly opposite on the dial. Moreover, IIII allows for exactly three balanced groups of numerals: I, II, III, IIII; V, VI, VII, VIII; and IX, X, XI, XII. It also adds to the radial symmetry of the clock: I is only seen as a primary numeral in the first four hours; V in the next four; and X in the last four. I think the symmetry theory best explains the tradition—can you really get any more symmetrical?
Whether or not any of these theories are correct, I feel much better knowing at least some explanation for this peculiarity. Adding the history and some of the tradition, I feel like a certified tour guide. If nothing else, I can impress people with my campanile knowledge.
[Photo courtesy Robert Giglio; illustration courtesy the Watchmaking Encyclopedia.]