For these Illini, 'Fort Monk' is home

CHAMPAIGN - Homecoming weekend beckons at Illinois.

Starting with the morning dew and continuing through the moonlit dusk, thousands of alums will gather in the comforting shadow of Memorial Stadium to reconnect and reminisce.

How they lived. Where they lived. With whom they enjoyed the most raw, yet intimate, years of their lives.

If they are rich with stories, then they're much like the seven seniors who live a half-mile north of the stadium in the ramshackle house on First Street known throughout campus as "Fort Monk."

Who are these fellows and what stories might they tell when they're alums as well?

How about the time when they've run out of toilet paper and barged into the yellow house next door - where several teammates live - to steal a roll or four?

Or the time when someone used a BB gun to slay their blowup Santa Claus? Coincidentally, the person behind the trigger hailed from the yellow house next door.

Or the time Kevin Mitchell's birthday was interrupted when the front porch collapsed under too many revelers. Fortunately, the only lingering effects were a few blood-stained calf injuries and a ton of laughs.

Or the many times when certain roommates caught, uh, grief for choosing to spend time with their girls instead of their buddies.

Or all of the times when linebacker and Special Prosecutor J Leman utilized the in-house court system to press charges against the alleged woman-favoring roommates - and the Honorable Judge Drew McMahon invariably ruled in Leman's favor.

Or the postgame parties. Only after wins, of course.

"If we win, we're having Popsicles and soda pops and hanging out," Leman said with a wink and a smile. "If we lose, it's a different story."

Yes, these are the life and times at Fort Monk, the longtime home for six Illinois football seniors (and one townie) who have one eye on their first bowl game and the other on graduation and the real world.

Or not.

"We're like little kids, to tell you the truth," McMahon said. "Not quite ready to grow up."

Fort Monk isn't quite "Animal House." But it's home to an adopted squirrel named Harry who considers it no big deal to spend his day on the guys' kitchen counter.

"I came in the other day and we stared at each other for 10 seconds," Leman said. "I just turned away."

Can't avert your own eyes from this storied mess? Then enter, as Harry does, at your own risk.

Honored guests, please pick up the black permanent marker and sign a painted brick on the kitchen wall. Your signature will join at least one hundred others - some of which can be found on the back of NFL paychecks.

Some advice during your stay: Don't use the toilet in the middle of the basement. For starters, it doesn't work well. Also, there aren't any walls around this throne.

How Fort Monk began

After becoming close friends as freshmen in the dorms, a few fellas decided they needed more space.

Prior to the 2004 season, linebacker J Leman, defensive tackle Chris Norwell, defensive back Drew McMahon and safety Kevin Mitchell decided the place at 1003 South First Street was close to the stadium and big enough for seven guys to each have their own room.

"I've unfortunately been there ever since," Mitchell said with a big laugh.

Perhaps they should have checked Champaign County Assessor records. Turns out the man listed as Fort Monk's owner and taxpayer calls Ann Arbor, Mich., his home.

That may explain Leman's summation of the joint: "It's the coldest house in the winter and the hottest house in the summer. No joke."

In any case, "The Four Founders," as they like to call themselves, brought then-teammates Mark McGoey, Ben Amundsen and Spencer Jensen in on the original deal.

Norwell coined it "Fort Monk." While it wouldn't be right to explain its exact meaning, Mitchell hails from Fort Wayne, Ind., and "Monk" borrows from a few Chicago-bred teammates' special brand of slang. Don't even try to figure it out.

After the first year, McGoey and Amundsen moved out. In came Chris Roney, the lone non-football player and buddy of McMahon and Leman at Champaign Central High School.

Then they took pity on Mike Ware, a Wheaton College transfer from Naperville. The defensive tackle showed up in Champaign the day before camp without a scholarship or a place to live. The swell-hearted fellas offered him a deal on some basement space. By the way, this serves as the optimal time to introduce the late house dog "Oskee" into the story.

"There was a room the dog would go and (relieve himself) almost every day," McMahon said. "There was dog (droppings) all over the room, but we told Ware, Ȣ₈¬Ã‹Å“You can have this room if you clean it up.'"

Even with the heat-spitting furnace, Ware accepted.

"We cleaned it up and now it's the best room in the house," he said proudly. "That's where everyone goes to hang out, all the time."

Ware's arrival made a great place even better. Not only did he provide the moped that carries three (and sometimes four) guys to Memorial Stadium, but he has an affable and crazed personality that makes him the ideal comic foil for the others.

Remember the part about Leman prosecuting others for their fairer-sex misdeeds? More often than not, Ware winds up as the defendant. The guys don't like it when he fudges the truth about where he spends his free time.

"When somebody does something wrong or shady, we say it's time for a trial," Leman said, "We have a judge, the Honorable Judge Drew McMahon, and a couple of witnesses.

"Mike and Spencer Jensen have been put on trial the most. We call Mike Ȣ₈¬Ã‹Å“The Great HAMbino: Hidden-Agenda Mike.'"

Almost without exception, Ware loses his cases.

"They lie," Ware claimed. "I'm not a good arguer. J talks faster than me."

The usual conviction penalty? A period where you're shunned by the rest of the group until you do something to return to good graces.

But no one has total immunity within this crowd. Not even Leman, the All-America candidate and all-American boy.

"Can you just write this down?" Norwell asked. "Chris Roney and J Leman are the dirtiest people in the house. Eggs everywhere. Just slobs."

Leman's protests fall on deaf ears. Even McMahon sells him out.

"The worst are the eggs," he said. "They eat so many and they pile up so fast, the shells get everywhere. Then they get smashed into little tiny pieces on the floor that are impossible to pick up."

Fortunately for these situations, the Fort Monk fellas have a willing custodian at their disposal: redshirt freshman tackle Ryan Palmer.

"He takes out the trash once a week and cleans the house twice a month in exchange for parking," Leman said.

Fort Monk closing?

All good times must come to an end.

Since six of the seven roommates finish school at the end of this semester (only fourth-year junior walk-on Nick LeVanti still has time on his eligibility clock), everyone's moving out in late December or early January.

The timing depends on Illinois' bowl prospects.

Either way, there'll be no more beach parties with imported sand and a blowup pool in which to enjoy their Popsicles and soda pop.

No more hosting the "Hog 'N Dog" party after the spring game, which serves as the official get-together for current and former Illini. It's a tradition they've carried on in the name of Bucky Babcock, Pat Rouse, Steve Weatherford and other alums.

No more living in a house where a Chicago Bears banner hangs out the upstairs window.

No more walking through a front door frame that's painted orange in the shape of an "I."

No more propping open the kitchen window so a pet squirrel can come and go as he pleases.

"We're not quite ready to grow up, but we have to," McMahon said. "It's getting to that point where we all go our separate ways."

Some of them hold out hope that Fort Monk will live on, but the landlord apparently plans to start remodeling as soon as the house empties. Other houses along First Street have been torn down and turned into lucrative apartments.

In the decades to come, will their homecoming weekends include a visit to good ol' Fort Monk?

"It's going to be gone," Leman predicted. "I don't think anybody will move in there after we leave."