Collegiate Times

Tech recycling grounds worker Doug Shaver empties commingled bottles and cans into a main repository, also known as a

The earliest of birds were nestled in their overhead homes, the worms still encased in the earth.

Yet I was upright, my cozy sheets a more distant memory with every pedal of my bicycle. They lay at the foot of my bed, wrinkled much like my brow as I strained to see Harrell Street in the initial glow of mid-August dawn.

Soon I breached the rear entry gates of the Sterrett Facilities Complex, a cluster of buildings adjacent to Lane Stadium. My destination was the Virginia Tech Recycling office, and its location in the Grounds Department building was immediately before me.

As I locked my bicycle frame to the front stair handrails, I looked out upon rows of university vehicles. Many of them emitted plumes of exhaust, the seats already occupied by staff ready to file out.

Inside I met Russell Caldwell, operations manager for VTR. It's with his help that I would explore the three main realms of VTR collection: commingled items, corrugated cardboard and mixed paper.

It's easy to dust off our hands with pride as that Coke bottle, flattened UPS package or draft print lands in a three-arrowed container. And it's OK to feel good; the landfill is less of a mountain thanks to our conscientious disposal. But what is the next step? Who are the phantoms behind the scenes discretely taking our hand-offs?   

Caldwell donned seasoned low-top boots, worn blue jeans, a faded maroon short sleeve button-down shirt and an Atlanta Braves cap. Such attire, I found, is the VTR uniform. They've got to be comfortable hauling around our well-intentioned garbage.

Caldwell led me around several corners into a large, fluorescent-lit communal room. Its seats were dotted with men turning their cups upright for last drops of coffee - their fuel.

Grounds worker Doug Shaver rose to meet us. Caldwell asked him to get me started on a commingled route, during which we'd be responsible for aluminum and steel cans as well as plastic and glass bottles.  

Caldwell opened a cabinet, the two sides covered with grounds vehicle keys. He scanned their labels, handing "GR-2" to Shaver.

Outside, we met the white Ford F-150 whose bumper was tattooed "GR-2" with decals. Once in the truck, Shaver lowered his window and Caldwell propped his left arm on the side mirror.

I leaned over and asked what he thought about recycling at Tech.

"People are just realizing that this is something that has to be done," Caldwell said.  

And the awareness has had ample time to develop. Having emerged in 1992, VTR is approaching two decades of activity. Sustainability Program Manager Denny Cochrane noted the efforts of a catalytic individual.

"I think there's no question Larry Bechtel is viewed on the campus as being Mr. Recycling," Cochrane said, later stressing that Bechtel "started the program for Virginia Tech for nothing."

Bechtel, former recycling coordinator, was an English instructor at Tech when he and other faculty volunteers rallied a paper collection startup. He hoped to combine his creation with a pre-existing commingled collection program managed by Physical Plant. Physical Plant hired him part time in 1991 to oversee the merger.

One year later, Bechtel initiated VTR as a full-time employee.

"GR-2" turned off Southgate Drive onto Duck Pond Drive as Shaver and I began our loop. As we approached the loading dock of the Virginia-Maryland Regional College of Veterinary Medicine, we could see the goods. While residence halls depend on students to stockpile materials at central locations, custodians of academic and administrative buildings tote it to drop points. We hopped out of "GR-2," grabbed the few commingled bags at their ties and swung them into the truck bed.

It seemed like no big deal: find it and toss it. Why were we there at such an early hour?

"It can kind of be an eye sore, so we try to get at it quick," Shaver said.

He also reminded me that it was summer; the fall influx of students changes everything.

"'The herd,' I call them, starts coming out," he said.

By 7:30 a.m., "GR-2" was full, and we parked behind Owens Dining Center to transfer the cargo to a main repository more commonly called a "hopper" by Caldwell. We tore open the bags, pouring their odorous contents through the square portals, sometimes failing to dodge the soured liquid remnants.

I asked Shaver how he handles the frenzied insects surrounding the containers.

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