When Sam O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl鈥檚 light-bulb moment hit in 1965, it actually involved about 300 light bulbs.
As a junior at the University of 蜜柚直播, O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl led his Delta Upsilon fraternity brothers on an ambitious quest to illuminate the 鈥淎鈥 on 鈥淎鈥 Mountain using about 700 feet of electrical cord and a 30,000-watt generator.
When Sam O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl was a junior at the University of 蜜柚直播, in 1965, he led his fraternity brothers on a mission to light up the 鈥淎鈥 on Sentinel Peak, starting in the process a Homecoming tradition that continues today.
In the process, the future 蜜柚直播 businessman helped launch a U of A homecoming tradition that continues today, albeit in somewhat different form.
On Sunday evening, students and alumni will light the block 鈥淎鈥 in red using road flares to kick off homecoming week at the UA.
The fiery show will only last for a few minutes, whereas O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl鈥檚 lights stayed lit for five hours on Nov. 12 and again on Nov. 13, 1965.
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鈥淚t was quite a feat,鈥 the 77-year-old said. 鈥30,000 watts is a lot of watts.鈥
He organized the light show as his pledge project for Delta Upsilon. He said the idea was inspired by an earlier experience on Sentinel Peak, when he helped paint the 鈥淎鈥 and ended up covered in whitewash. It was the messiest college activity he ever participated in and one he had no interest in repeating, so he went looking for some other way to show his school spirit.
鈥淓lectricity was the most viable option,鈥 he said.
It took about two months to measure the 鈥淎鈥 and figure out what he would need to do the job.
His father was a general contractor, so O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl tapped the family鈥檚 connections in the local construction industry to find all the cord, light sockets and bulbs he needed. He used 3-foot concrete stakes, borrowed from several local subcontractors, to run the cord around the perimeter of the 鈥淎.鈥
It took him and three other guys a full day to drive the stakes, and another two days after that to install all 300 sockets and bulbs.
The generator was supplied by The Ashton Company, one of 蜜柚直播鈥檚 largest construction firms, which sent a worker up the mountain to flip on the power when the time came.
O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl said a few hundred people gathered for the show that first night, including his fraternity brothers and friends, curious onlookers, local authorities and someone from the newspaper.
鈥淭hey did a countdown, we threw the switch, and that whole mountain lit up like you wouldn鈥檛 believe,鈥 he said. 鈥淲e got lucky.鈥
Though he was just 19 at the time, he鈥檇 had the presence of mind to call the 蜜柚直播 Police Department in advance to let them know what he was up to. He said the department sent a couple of squad cars to provide some much-needed traffic control.
蜜柚直播 was less than half of its current size in 1965, but O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl said that 鈥渨ithin an hour, there must have been a thousand cars lined up鈥 on Sentinel Peak Road.
The only casualty of the night was the driver鈥檚 side door on his green 1962 Oldsmobile.
He said someone left the door open, and it was sheared off and sent tumbling down 鈥淎鈥 Mountain by a passing motorist who may have been distracted 鈥 or possibly blinded 鈥 by the lights.
鈥淚 remember that like it was 10 minutes ago,鈥 he said.
Fiery beginnings
The 鈥淎鈥 on Sentinel Peak was first built by a group of university students in 1916, when 蜜柚直播 was home to less than 20,000 people.
Marc Acu帽a, senior director for alumni and student engagement for the U of A, said the custom was simple back then: The upperclassmen would set fire to the 鈥淎鈥 at the beginning of the school year and then welcome the freshmen class to campus by making them paint it white again.
According to Acu帽a, the practice of using electric lights on the 鈥淎鈥 during homecoming appears to have died out sometime in the 1970s. He said students began illuminating it with flares in the 1980s, and that has been the homecoming tradition ever since.
Acu帽a said the annual lighting event usually draws a couple hundred people. The crowd sings 鈥淎ll Hail, 蜜柚直播鈥 and 鈥淏ear Down 蜜柚直播,鈥 and counts down to the moment when the flares are lit.
鈥淭his is a cool event because it involves all of 蜜柚直播,鈥 he said.
They had to cancel the homecoming kickoff party in 2020 because of COVID. That year, they lit the 鈥淎鈥 with LED lights, but it just didn鈥檛 have the same dramatic effect, Acu帽a said.
This year鈥檚 lighting event will be held from 5-7 p.m. Sunday at the MSA Annex at Avenida del Convento and Cushing Street.
Red flares light up the "A" on "A" Mountain in an undated photo. This year's lighting ceremony will be held starting at 5 p.m. Sunday to kick off the start of homecoming week at the U of A.
Acu帽a said the flares are arranged and lit by the 13 members of the Bobcats Senior Honorary, the university鈥檚 oldest student organization. The group, dedicated to protecting the heritage and traditions of the university, was formed after World War I in honor of the 13 U of A students who died in the war.
It takes about 250 flares to cover the entire 鈥淎.鈥 鈥淥n a good day,鈥 Acu帽a said, the flaming red glow will last for 5 to 10 minutes.
Not all business
O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl said he helped string lights around the 鈥淎鈥 for homecoming twice more after that first time in 1965.
Then he and his new wife, Pipper, moved to Southern California, so he handed off the tradition 鈥 and all the electrical equipment 鈥 to the next group of college students.
The couple returned to 蜜柚直播 a few years later, and O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl launched a successful career as a builder and entrepreneur, with several eastside developments and businesses to his credit.
He is probably best known for the string of bars he opened and regularly sang at, starting in the mid-1970s with O鈥橲haughnessy鈥檚 Piano Bar on Grant Road and 蜜柚直播 Boulevard.
He also developed a reputation as a showman with a quirky, can-do sense of adventure.
Sam O'Shaughnessy Stangl, left, and a friend enjoy themselves in New Orleans in 1969, four years after the University of 蜜柚直播 graduate used electric lights and a generator to light up "A" Mountain for homecoming.
Once in 1969, when he was working for IBM in Los Angeles, he and two tall friends from his office spent a wild night in New Orleans pretending to be members of UCLA鈥檚 national championship basketball team. They signed dozens of autographs for people on Bourbon Street until they drew the attention of some local TV sports reporters who wanted an on-camera interview.
In 1979, he bought the house in New York made famous by 鈥淭he Amityville Horror.鈥 The purchase made headlines, but he only got to walk around the supposedly haunted property once before he had to sell it to escape a tangle of lawsuits over who should profit from the popular book and movie of the same name.
In the mid 1980s, he and Pipper moved to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, to run their beachside Se帽or O鈥橲haughnessys location and ended up with an African lion named Caesar as a pet for a couple of years.
And in 2009, he spent several thousand dollars to rescue a 9-foot-tall, 13-foot long sculpture of a bull from the shuttered Magic Carpet miniature golf course on Speedway. The one-ton bull, nicknamed Toro, stood outside O鈥橲haughnessy鈥檚 Song Hall and Supper Club near Tanque Verde and Kolb until the business closed in 2012.
O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl is mostly retired these days, though you can still occasionally find him 鈥渃limbing trees with a chainsaw,鈥 he said.
His specialty is sculpting large mesquites like the ones that grow along Tanque Verde Creek in his eastside neighborhood. On his business cards, he describes himself as a 鈥渃osmetic surgeon.鈥
O鈥橲haughnessy Stangl said he plans to attend this year鈥檚 鈥淎鈥 Mountain lighting ceremony. It will be the first one he鈥檚 gone to since the last time he helped light up 鈥淎鈥 some 55 years ago.
鈥淚t鈥檚 time to do it,鈥 he said, and so he will.
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