Editor’s note: In this edition, The Daily Orange writes a series throughout its sections about people who embody Syracuse, the university and the community surrounding it.

David Gursky thought he heard hail pounding down on the roof of his Irving Avenue parking booth. But that was impossible. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The tapping, though — it wouldn’t stop. Then, Gursky realized there was no hail.

He was being shot at.

Aiming from the top of Lawrinson Hall, a student was firing a high-powered pellet rifle at Gursky.

‘I don’t think this booth is bulletproof,’ Gursky said.

The student was quickly surrounded by authorities and apprehended. The incident, for the Syracuse University parking lot attendant, exemplifies another series of fleeting relationships — good or bad — that SU has awarded him. Guarding the booth between Sadler Hall and the Carrier Dome for more than 10 years, Gursky does far more than control traffic flow.

‘I’ve talked to The Rolling Stones, I’ve waved to Garth Brooks, Neil Diamond and Larry Gatlin,’ Gursky said. ‘I’ve even talked to Joe Biden, back when he was a senator. He was driving himself and he was very casual. I just said, ‘How are you, Mr. Biden? It’s great meeting you.’ He was very pleasant and polite to me. It was very interesting.’

However, Gursky can’t always play Mr. Nice Guy. He assists SU’s Parking and Transit Services security as well. Between the hours of 9 a.m. and 4 p.m., Gursky’s job is to prevent people from using the campus as a shortcut to drive to Comstock Avenue. It’s a task that has made him unpopular, to say the least.

‘There are points where he can be stern about things,’ said Casey O’Brien, a sophomore advertising major. ‘But then there are other times where he’s an a***hole. I do think he does a good job at what he does, but he needs to treat us more like adults.’

Luke Grasmeyer, a senior landscape architecture major in the State University of New York College of Environmental Science and Forestry, said Gursky wants to help the community, but his occasionally hostile attitude is off-putting.

‘He is kind in some ways. He will sign a parking pass for you, but he usually gives you hell about it,’ Grasmeyer said. ‘I know friends in studio who don’t even make eye contact with him anymore. They completely blow him off. They don’t like him.’

While conflict makes Gursky a villain to students, he has an important responsibility to SU. As a guard for a major entry point to the SU campus, Gursky gives the first impression for many newcomers to campus. Whether it is a prospective student, a visiting speaker or a lost parent trying to find a child’s dormitory, Gursky sets SU’s attitude.

‘He is certainly one of the primary representatives of the institution as a whole,’ said Janet LaFrance, the administrative specialist of Parking and Transit Services and Gursky’s longtime friend. ‘It’s important that all employees understand that it’s a customer service position, and I think David (Gursky) exemplifies that in many ways.’

LaFrance said Gursky stood out as an individual when she received a call from an elderly couple. They told her they were trying to find a place to park when there were no more spaces available. Instead of brushing them off, LaFrance said Gursky went out of his way, contacting numerous parking attendants to ensure that the couple could find a place to park. ‘He left a very good and lasting impression on our department,’ LaFrance said.

Gursky claims his attitude toward students is entirely dependent on how they treat him.

‘Attitude is so important,’ he said, ‘not just with my gate, but with all gates.’

Gursky doesn’t like it when students feel entitled to drive through. All he asks for is mutual respect — a little politeness goes a long way for Gursky.

‘He seems like a good guy deep down, but you don’t want to get on his bad side,’ Grasmeyer said.

Gursky still tries to find humor in his battles with pushy drivers. He said he can tell when people fabricate excuses to cut through campus.

A blue, dog-eared notebook in Gursky’s booth separates fact from fiction. Inside the book is a treasure trove of Gursky’s favorite excuses. ‘It’s so funny sometimes that I usually let them go through after I tell them the rules.’

Dated, numbered and labeled, Gursky documents his favorite excuses he’s received over the years at the booth, whether they are true or not. They range from novice excuses such as girls racing to tanning appointments to absurdities like students needing to get to Otto the Orange tryouts or a ‘cartwheel exam.’

He has, quite literally, heard it all.

‘I had this one excuse that I felt was kind of scary,’ Gursky said. ‘These people were rushing through. I could tell something was wrong because of how they were driving. They came to me and said, ‘We got to get through. We forgot our baby.’ They left their baby unattended at home. So I was like, ‘OK.”

Despite the extensive amount of time Gursky has spent with the Syracuse community, he only has limited opportunities to develop relationships with the same people he sees each day. He has time for faces, not names. Gursky cannot take the time to chat when it means slowing traffic.

‘I don’t have much time,’ Gursky said. ‘The relationship is good until the next car comes.’

Instead, Gursky developed a sixth sense. Before he can even identify people by their face or names, Gursky has a person pegged by identifying their ‘driver body language,’ yards before they reach his booth.

As a UPS truck drives down Irving Avenue toward him, Gursky knows who the driver is just by the way the truck weaves down the road.

While students, faculty and fans come and go, Gursky remains a statue. Staying at the same booth for years, Gursky has seen students’ entire collegiate careers unfold before his eyes, being just a simple greeter when they were freshman to finally knowing them by first name just in time for graduation.

‘All of a sudden, they’re gone. They come back once in a couple years for a reunion or something, then they’re gone,’ Gursky said. ‘You know these people by first name, then all of a sudden they’re gone.’

Fragmented relationships are all the university can give Gursky. When he meets students, faculty and the occasional sniper, he knows their connection lasts as long as the university allows it. ‘It’s like knowing a cousin, then all of a sudden you don’t see the cousin anymore,’ Gursky said. ‘It’s that type of relationship.’

ansteinb@syr.edu

Published on April 12, 2010 at 12:00 pm