The Culture of Cedar Village

BY: LAUREN GIBBONS & CELESTE BOTT

Unassuming by day, a party by night. At least, that’s how the legend goes.

Established in 1968, Cedar Village was built as a way to bring students together. A housing complex close to campus that offered students a neighborhood of their own sounded great on paper. Other rentals from other companies popped up around it to cash in on the idea.

No one could have known then what exactly they’d created.

On an average school day, or even an average weekend, Cedar Village is just another apartment complex. Students go to class, they hang out with their friends. Typical college life.

But that’s not why everyone knows the name.

The chaos that sometimes ensues there after major sports events has been referred to by every definition in the book. Revelries, celebrations, melees, disturbances, riots — the name changes, but the concept stays the same.

MSU plays a big game, and people gather. Win or lose, furniture and anything else disposable is dragged into the street. 

It’s no secret what happens next, because Cedar Village gatherings have become synonymous with March Madness and destruction. Wide-eyed freshmen flock there to bear witness — they've heard stories about this from parents and older siblings. And in 20-some years, they want to tell their kids, too.

Those who live nearby can’t escape the stigma. Some wear their apartment’s history as a badge of honor. Some say they don't care and live there because it's across the street from campus. Others in the neighborhood try to distance themselves, but if they live within a few blocks, they can count themselves as members.

Because Cedar Village isn’t just an apartment complex.

It’s a brand. It’s a tradition.

It’s a culture.

Bad Reputation

Water’s Edge. Village. River. Cedar. Victor. Woodmere. The streets are haunted by ghosts of couch fires past, although a casual observer wouldn’t know it most days out of the year.

Technically Cedar Village is just one apartment complex, but to many students old and new, "Cedar Village" has become a blanket term for the anything within a few blocks.

For journalism sophomore Shireen Mohyi and her peers, Cedar Village means anything from Eden Roc to her own place in Americana Apartments.

"This neighborhood is what makes up Cedar Village," she explained. "If someone lives in those actual apartments, my friends and I refer to them as 'actual Cedar Village.'"

Mohyi might have a point — it's hard to believe one apartment complex alone could withstand the more than 3,000 students and locals who flocked to the area after the MSU football team defeated Ohio State for the Big Ten Championship title.

She'd had no idea of the area's past riots and Cedar Fests when she moved in — but she did know it was a place to party.

And no one is more familiar with that aspect of Cedar Village's reputation than DTN Management. They own "the actual" Cedar Village Apartments, not every complex in the area, as some students believe.

DTN Area Director Emilie Wohlscheid oversees Cedar Village and said the complex's long-standing popularity stems from both proximity and MSU tradition.

"It's very well known. A lot of our residents moving in have a parent lived who lived here, or aunts and uncles or brothers and sisters," Wohlscheid said. "And being so close to campus, with that familiarity, it becomes a rite of passage. You have to say you lived there at least one of your years at MSU."

Despite what police now refer to as a "civil disturbance" in December, Cedar Village is nearly full for next year.

"We try to be very proactive to prevent those things from happening. We open our doors to the ELPD, but there seems to be the idea that Cedar Village is the place to meet based on history," Wohlscheid said. "And I would love to see that change.

"We love them having parties, that's something we're completely fine with, but it becomes very disappointing when there's destruction," she added.

Mohyi witnessed the revelries this December, but said she found it more invigorating than frightening.

"Oh, I thought it was amazing. I've never seen anything like that in my life," she said. "Everyone was going crazy, but I never felt unsafe. It was so entertaining and I'm glad I had a front row seat."

But for fisheries and wildlife senior and former Cedar Street resident Chris Long, the civil disturbance this year got out of hand. He'd gone to check out his old neighborhood and was horrified at the destruction, claiming it went too far for students simply getting amped up over a football game.

"When I saw them ripping trees out of the ground it made me sick," he said.

Long said he was aware of the area's reputation before moving there, but the location made it worth it. Weekdays were relatively quiet. The neighborhood grew wild over the weekends, something Long found fun at first. But the noise and the trash or broken glass left lying around became a hassle.

"There would be be couches burning on football weekends, which is intense, but then after the first blaze, it's boring," Long explained.

Still, Long said that outside of more isolated incidents, Cedar Village's reputation is slightly exaggerated.

"Our neighbors were pretty cool. It was never a constant nuisance," Long said. "Most of the time it's just like any other student neighborhood."

Continued Frustration

It’s unnecessary to inform city officials about the Cedar Village tradition and the area’s potential to host a “celebration.”

They are well aware. And they’re sick of it.

During a recent meeting with The State News editorial board, the inherent frustration of dealing with the aftermath of the post-Big Ten Championship festivities in December 2013 was visible on the faces of City Manager George Lahanas, Police Chief Juli Liebler and other officials in attendance.

They said they were frustrated because it was nothing new. The same problem has plagued East Lansing since the 1970s, and they say none of the many attempts and tactics they’ve rolled out to prevent future problems have truly worked.

Lahanas recalled a time when a city-sponsored concert was scheduled to coincide with a major sports event in an attempt to get students together in a relatively controlled setting.

It was a failure.

“The band was playing to a near-empty lot by 9 p.m.,” he said. "It's not cool if it's sponsored by the city."

Liebler said the police department has moved away from tear gas — which has been used in previous Cedar Village gatherings — instead attempting to disperse crowds by arresting those closest to the blaze or those who are inciting crowds.

But she acknowledges there’s no tactic that will truly work unless the culture changes drastically. Ideally, people would stay home, she said, but that’s not likely.

“It’s just the reputation probably more than anything is that that’s the place to go — everybody knows to go there,” Leibler said.

From a police perspective, Cedar Village is just like any other student-heavy area, Liebler said. It's just the big games that seem to inspire the long-standing tradition.

For now, the department is trying to use the examples of the 27 students arrested in connection with the Big Ten Championship incident as a tool to encourage students not to make waves during this year’s March Madness. And of course, they'll have some assistance prepared from other local police forces on hand during the Final Four in case of emergency.

Estimated cost? $250,000.

Councilmember Ruth Beier said she doesn't think there will be another incident this year because of the effective messaging put out by the police department and city staff.

Beier hopes the message sticks for many years to come, because she doesn't want MSU students' degrees to be tarnished by a reputation as a place "where you go to get drunk and burn things."

"This is a place you go because you are a smart, intellectual person," she said. "Most students don't want to work hard, get a degree, and have people say, 'Oh, you come from that place where they burn things."

Connection to Athletics

It was one of the worst games in Duke's 1999 season.

Missed shots, too many fouls, poorly executed defense and missed free throws in the last five minutes — and they were up against the tough No. 2 seeded Spartans in the Final Four, with legends like Mateen Cleaves out on the court.

But ultimately, it was the Blue Devils who overpowered the Spartans that night in St. Petersburg, FL with a 68-62 victory.

Back at home, Cedar Village sprung to life. Once known for pre-organized Cedar Fests in May and October, that night in March, it earned a new reputation as a destination for raucous NCAA tournament celebration, win or lose.

In 1999, it was MSU's first time appearing in the Final Four in more than 20 years. Students and locals responded to the disappointing loss with a riot that left eight cars torched, 24 windows broken and 24 people arrested, 11 of them MSU students, according to MSU archives.

Head coach Tom Izzo was outraged.

"You know darn well there's 4,000 or 5,000 students in the riot and 400 or 500 were involved," he told the State News at the time. "I would love for those 400 or 500 to get mad and say they were never coming to another game.

"I will buy their tickets," Izzo said. "I will pay them for their tickets not to come."

But not even disapproval from the beloved Izzo — or his pleas for good behavior, sent in email messages to students prior to games in later years — has managed to inhibit what's become a tournament tradition.

Similar revelries took place in 2003 and 2005, after NCAA tournament losses to Texas and the University of North Carolina, respectively.

On March 30, 2003, about 2,000 people flooded East Lansing streets, causing about $40,000 in damage. Police released more than 135 canisters of chemical ammunition, or tear gas, on campus and in the city, attempting to disperse the revelers. About 30 revelers were arrested in the 2003 disturbances.

In 2005, 21 students were arrested at Cedar Village and the East Lansing Police Department found themselves under fire for releasing tear gas within 20 minutes of the end of the UNC game to disperse large crowds, according to State News archives.

MSU alumnus Jacob Courville attended MSU between 2001 and 2005 during both disturbances.

Before social media became a prominent fixture in the day to day life of the average MSU student, they relied on word of mouth. When it came to Cedar Village, Courville said, "people just knew to come."

Courville might have felt the burning sting of tear gas himself on more than one occasion, but he knew the complex's infamy began long before.

"In 1999, we were playing Duke the first time it happened," he recalled. "For whatever the reason after that, it just became a quick and recognizable tradition. Anytime we were anywhere in the tournament, win or lose, Cedar Village was the place to congregate."

As for police response, it was simply an uneven ratio.

"You'd see a very large group of students and a disproportionate amount of police, and all of a sudden you'd see the tear gas," Courville said. "It was how they dealt with it."

Courville remembers knowing to head to Cedar Village for a good time even before the "ubiquity of sharing things on Facebook."

It was an incredibly popular place to live and not just to visit, but not because of its facilities, he said.

"It was well known as a place that was kind of crusty and overpriced," Courville said. "But if you wanted to be in the middle of the action, of the party, that's where you lived. No one was living there for the amenities, and I'm sure that's still the case."