On a gloomy Thursday afternoon, The Signal entered those steep and spiraling passageways one last time before its promised demise—finally, after two years of planning—in the coming months. The hallways above the third floor are barren, save for the relics of experiments and decades-old academia. Mysterious chalkboard drawings, towers of pizza boxes and beakers of amber solutions were some of the remnants providing evidence of a once-bustling facility.

The geosciences department, which once housed its expansive collection of rocks and minerals on three floors of the building, has since vacated to Langdale Hall. Some administrative offices still remain, sustaining an eerie perception of activity.

Dr. Brian Meyer, a professor of the geosciences department, said Kell Hall served the department very well over its lifetime.

“Kell Hall served its purpose well, considering the age of the building [Georgia State] definitely saw a return on investment with the facilities [it] offered for over 70 years,” he said.

The building was purchased for $301,000 in 1945 and slated for renovation in October of that year. The building, which initially housed a parking garage, a restaurant and business offices, would cost almost $4.3 million today, when adjusted for inflation. It was further renovated in 1964 to become a science-focused facility for $500,000, which is about $4 million today.

Rumors of potential radioactivity within the walls of Kell Hall have floated around the geosciences department for years. In The Signal’s previous feature of the building, the university’s Sr. Radiation Officer, Quintena Tinson, declined to comment on the matter due to a fear of causing mass panic. So instead, The Signal acquired a Geiger counter, a device used to measure radiation, and set out to find out how radioactive Kell truly is.

Now, it’s important to preface this experiment with a note that The Signal’s staff are not trained experts in using the counter. But those reporters who operated the device were instructed by a radiation science officer on its mechanics and readings. Further research corroborated The Signal’s understanding of the device’s output.

When the Geiger counter was used inside The Signal’s office in Student Center West, a low reading of around 0 to 0.1 mR/hr was recorded. However, this discovery didn’t come as a concern, as low-level background radiation is found in everything.

The walls of Kell Hall’s fifth floor, where the highest level of radiation was found in a publicly accessible area, only measured about 0.8 to 1.0 mR/hr, which is insignificant according to a PBS radiation dosage guide. So yes, Kell Hall is radioactive, but so are bananas, humans and pretty much everything else.

As Kell Hall is set to be demolished—perhaps even as soon as over winter break—students can expect a new greenway to eventually replace the rampways. The Greenway project is part of the larger renovation of Library Plaza and will provide a dedicated green space for students to lounge and congregate.

One issue that was brought up by Student Government Association Senator Spencer Bivins at the Sept. 27 Atlanta Senate meeting was that of smoking in the plaza. Sen. Bivins said he was concerned about where the smoke circle (affectionately referred to as the “smircle”) would migrate to after Library Plaza is renovated.

Dean of Libraries Jeff Steely, who at the meeting was presenting an update to the library’s renovation, answered Bivins’ inquiry and addressed the topic of smoking on campus.

“It bothers me just as much as it bothers you. It’s frustrating,” Steely said. “My hope is that if they feel like they need to smoke they find a legal place to smoke off campus.”

From its initial use as an “automobile hotel,” to a general purpose classroom building for 5,000, to a building of the sciences at a burgeoning university, Kell Hall has represented Georgia State’s adaptive growth throughout the past 93 years.

Not only has it grown as an academic facility but also as a time capsule providing a window into the university’s history.

We bid adieu to the involuntary exercise of Kell Hall’s steep rampways and maze-like floor plan, and we invite a new history to be written in its place. Good riddance, and happy demolition.