A Monumental Adventure

Bastin Hall houses cutting-edge technology that links the present with the lessons learned from the past. Here, Capt. James Bezjian, Ph.D., assistant professor of strategy and entrepreneurship in the Tommy and Victoria Baker School of Business, continues the legacy of the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program. A division of the U.S. Army tasked with finding and recovering art and other priceless artifacts confiscated by the Nazis during World War II, the program was responsible for the recovery of cultural artifacts worth billions of dollars. In 2014, the Monuments program captured the attention of the public with the release of the film Monuments Men, starring George Clooney, Matt Damon and Bill Murray, which tells the story of how cultural treasures were protected and rescued by Allied forces.

This past summer, Bezjian completed Army Monuments Officer Training through the Smithsonian Cultural Rescue Initiative and the U.S. Army Civil Affairs and Psychological Operations Command (Airborne). Almost 80 years after the founding of the program and the deployment of the original Monuments Men, Bezjian echoes his predecessors’ core beliefs: “If we want to become better versions of ourselves as humans, the only way to do that is to learn from the mistakes of the past. And we can’t do that without preserving the history of humanity. Doing that means making a concerted effort, not just to preserve icons but to preserve stories that people pass down from generation to generation and preserve the history of groups and tribes and individuals who have grown up in various regions with different ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds.”

Preservation, Bezjian believes, is key to ensuring that history is not misremembered.  “Until all that stuff is documented, recorded and preserved,” he said, “it stands to be lost or twisted or changed or manipulated. Preserving culture prevents us from making the mistakes of the past, and it also prevents people from twisting a narrative.”

In February 2020, Bezjian and a couple of cadets traveled to the U.S. Army Airborne & Special Operations Museum in Fayetteville, North Carolina. They used 3D technology to create digital replicas of war artifacts, including an Army-issued M1 steel helmet worn by Walker Hancock, an original member of the Monuments Men.

Bezjian’s next mission, sponsored by an $8,500 contribution from the Richard Lewis Foundation, is to rescue art not from the hazards of war but from the decay of time, specifically to preserve the Madonna of La Gleize in Belgium.

Bezjian’s carry-on, an Artec Leo 3D scanner, too precious to check, is already packed in its protective case, awaiting the international flight. Bezjian will scan the Madonna at its home church in Belgium and bring the scans back to The Citadel, where he will print the sculpture twice in polylactic acid plastic using a 3D printer. The printer itself was created and donated by Benjamin Scott, ’21, and Ethan Warner, ’20, who submitted it as their entry in the 2020 Baker Business Bowl, the school’s entrepreneurial business plan competition, and subsequently launched Evolve 3D, a company that manufactures 3D printers and develops 3D printing technology.

One of the two replicas will then catch a flight to Belgium, where it will be housed with the original. The other replica will trace Bezjian’s earlier journey to the Airborne & Special Operations Museum, where it will be featured in an upcoming exhibit.

Capt. James Bezjian, Ph.D., uses 3D printing to preserve history. Copies of Pietro Rossi’s Veiled Lady in Bastin Hall include the finest details of the original sculpture. Credit: Cameron Pollack / The Citadel

“The goal behind any kind of cultural heritage preservation is to capture not necessarily the icon, but the meaning that the icon has for our community,” said Bezjian.

The Citadel’s 3D printers work layer by layer, and since the Madonna replicas will be reproduced to scale, they might have to be printed in segments due to the sculpture’s height. The segments could then be melted or glued together. The depth of each layer and the number of layers needed will not be known until Bezjian’s team begins fabrication using Artec software. At that point, he will also choose a brand of polylactic acid plastic made from renewable resources and decide whether to use an infill for added structural support. In any case, he does not expect the replication process itself to cost more than a few hundred dollars. After the fabrication is completed, an artisan will color and texturize the replicas’ surfaces to match the original sculpture.

As an example of the printing process’s precision, Bezjian keeps on his desk a miniaturized version of the Veiled Lady by Pietro Rossi, which is housed at the Gibbes Museum of Art in downtown Charleston. The lines on this 3D-printed plastic replica softly and delicately drape across the bust’s face the same way the rock-hard marble does on the original, forecasting the success of the forthcoming to-scale replicas of the Madonna.

The scanning and printing process captures minute details, revealing not only the artist’s technique but also the sculpture’s history, and will allow Bezjian to create a precise replica of the Madonna, including any damage incurred during World War II, when it was stolen by the Nazis.

“You want to create a 100% pure replica from the time that it was scanned. So the goal is essentially to take a snapshot of what that sculpture looked like at that date and time.”

Just as we are to remember and learn from our successes, we should remember and learn from our scars. The lessons from artwork like the Madonna of La Gleize will be preserved and shared as a result of this project and others to come.

The Spirit of Serving Others

It was a typical Saturday morning at The Citadel. The sun was out, my roommate was asleep and I was tying up my boots to go volunteer somewhere called Sweetgrass Garden. The name alone was reason to go there, but its mission of providing produce to local food distribution centers, educating the public about sustainable farming and simply giving food to those in need really struck a chord in my heart.

Sweetgrass Garden was founded by Dr. George Taylor and Dale Snyder nearly a decade ago with a generous donation of land from a Kiawah Island resident. Last year, Sweetgrass grew and donated about 6,000 pounds of produce to charitable food distribution agencies in South Carolina.

When I arrived at Sweetgrass, I was amazed by what I saw. There were hugelkultur bins overflowing with fruits and vegetables; there were goats and ducks roaming around, roosters chasing volunteers (little did they know we were there to help), and a pile of wood and plastic stacked up in a corner. Jennifer Wicker was the backbone of the operation, and after we introduced ourselves, she informed us that we were going to build a greenhouse that day using the pile of wood and plastic materials.

My jaw dropped. I remember the feeling of excitement because what we were doing would go a long way to help people in need. But then a wave of doubt hit me. What did I know about construction?  And yet, after meticulously planning, we all came together and created a wonderful greenhouse. More than anything I’d ever done before, building the greenhouse with my fellow cadets and Jennifer that day opened my eyes to the impact of service and giving to others, and I left a changed person. Three years after the construction of that greenhouse, Sweetgrass Garden is alive with two greenhouses, hugelkultur bins everywhere and more goats.

Sweetgrass produces a wide variety of crops. Strawberries and blueberries are at their finest in the spring. Heads of cabbage bloom in abundance thereafter, and the most beautiful selection of vibrant red tomatoes and peppers ripen in the summer. Then there are the goats, great companions and partners in yoga, but more importantly a prime resource for clearing land without the use of chemicals. Lastly, Sweetgrass wouldn’t be Sweetgrass without the bees. Bees are a sign of a well-functioning ecosystem, and Sweetgrass is just that. The bees of Sweetgrass Garden actually drive the amount of food donated each year because of their pollination. The bees pollinate everything on the farm and, in doing so, produce some of the best all-natural honey and honeycomb that I have ever tasted.

On Johns Island, South Carolina, cadet volunteers work at Sweetgrass Garden, a farm dedicated to expanding food access and sustainable farming. Credit: Cameron Pollack / The Citadel

I have been volunteering at Sweetgrass for almost four years now, spending a summer at the farm and helping out at least every other weekend. In that time, I have helped build two greenhouses and assemble multiple hugelkultur bins, and I have participated in a number of sustainability and conservation projects. I have walked miles and miles feeding goats, and I have learned that farming is not just about growing crops—it’s about the cultivation of human beings. The staff and volunteers at Sweetgrass Garden demonstrate their true dedication not only to service but to educating every person who visits the farm.

I grew up in a family of nine. We worked day in and day out, barely making ends meet. It was always the little things that mattered. Fast forward to my career at The Citadel:  the memories of others helping me and those I love propelled me to the path I am on today. From my initial journey in high school when I first decided to participate in an Adopt-A-Road program to the volunteer work at Sweetgrass Garden, I have learned that the impact I have on those I serve is immeasurable. Nothing else could match the feeling I get from making a difference in the lives of others.

Sweetgrass Garden is one of the organizations where I feel that I derive more benefit than the people I serve. The experience has helped transform me into a more patient, flexible and responsible leader. I cherish the ability to influence and help others, and to see community service as a benefit to my personal growth, not just another obligation on my schedule. Sweetgrass and my community service expeditions have helped to shape me in ways I didn’t know possible, challenging me to do better and be a cadet who embodies the spirit of serving others.


Jeremy Walker is a senior cadet and Bravo Company commander from Tampa, Florida. A double major in criminal justice and psychology with a fine arts minor, Walker is a member of the track and field team. He plans to commission in the U.S. Marine Corps upon graduation in May.

The Superintendent with a Big Step

When Deon Jackson was a freshman at The Citadel in 1995, he called his mother from a pay phone and told her that he wanted to come home.

“You can come home,” Janice Howard said to her son, “but I’m not coming to get you.” The next time Jackson called his mother and told her he wanted to come home, she said, “You can come home, but I’m not coming to get you, and you can’t come here.”

Deon Jackson, a member of the Class of 1999 and former Citadel football player, has influenced scores of young students in his 21-year career. Jackson currently serves as the superintendent of the Berkeley County School District in Moncks Corner. Credit: Cameron Pollack / The Citadel

Howard’s no-nonsense response put an end to her son’s thoughts of leaving the military college. Home was 400 miles away in St. Petersburg, Florida. Jackson didn’t have a car, and even if he had, he didn’t have a place to live after he got there. Howard was a young, divorced mother of three. At one time, the family had lived in a one-bedroom apartment, but she worked hard—sometimes more than one job—and sacrificed a lot for her children, and they got by, eventually moving to a two-bedroom house.

“We didn’t have much,” said Jackson, “and I knew education was a way to get to where you wanted to go.”

Jackson played football at Boca Ciega High School in the Pinellas County School District. When then-recruiting coordinator Coach Kenny Carter, ’90, came to visit him, Jackson sat up and took notice of what the coach said about The Citadel.

“What sold me was, at that point in time,” said Jackson, “they told me The Citadel had a 98% job placement rate.”

Jackson was 18 when he visited campus for the first time. He had never been on an airplane, and he had never been to South Carolina, let alone Charleston or The Citadel. What he discovered were uniforms and structure. And when other colleges were offering him scholarships to play defense, The Citadel offered him an offensive running back position.

Jackson signed up.

Today, Deon Jackson, ’99, is the superintendent of Berkeley County School District. As a cadet in the 1990s, he was an offensive running back for the Bulldogs. Credit: Russ Pace / The Citadel

There were rough patches along the way. He had never shined shoes or brass or worn a uniform. There was what Jackson calls “direct communication” because he prefers not to say “yelling,” but he discovered that it was all for a purpose. Waking up early and going for a run to get the day started would become a lifelong habit. He also discovered leaders who made an impression and shaped his life—Citadel President Lt. Gen. Claudius Watts, who made sure the football team knew that he was behind them. Assistant Commandant Col. Tony Lackey, who guided him through a rocky path in his cadet experience. Head Coach Don Powers, a mentor whose quirky sayings sometimes left Jackson scratching his head. There were others, too—the ladies who worked in the mess hall and the gift shop, Ruby Murray in the library, along with Susan Redmond, Geri Jones and Sgt. Maj. Sylvan Bauer in Jenkins Hall. And as Jackson was making plans for a career in sports management and administration, there was Col. John S. Carter, a professor of health and physical education, who encouraged Jackson to pursue a teaching certificate so that he had multiple options.

“Like every other little boy who played sports,” said Jackson, “I was going to be a professional athlete.”

That was Jackson’s plan, but then he modified the plan. “Instead of being a pro athlete, I’m going to be the agent,” he told himself. “I’ll represent the pro athlete and have a similar lifestyle without all of the practice and weightlifting and the injuries and all of that.”

Jackson accumulated 18 hours of graduate credit as a fifth-year player. He was halfway through a master’s program in secondary school administration, and he was planning to take a gap year in Charleston to have fun when he got a call from Coach Johnny Roscoe of Lancaster County.

Several leaders he encountered as a cadet made an impression on Deon Jackson, ’99, and helped shape his life. Credit: Cameron Pollack / The Citadel

“Coach Roscoe is a legendary coach in South Carolina and North Carolina, but I had no idea who he was at the time. I had no idea where Lancaster County was at the time either.”

The year was 2000. Roscoe offered Jackson almost $40,000 a year to teach and coach, and the 23-year-old who had borrowed a car to go on the interview accepted without preamble. For the next two years, Jackson and his now-wife Adrienne burned up the road from Charleston to Lancaster County to see one another. Eventually, the drive got old, the couple needed to settle, and there was a master’s degree to complete, which made Charleston the obvious landing spot.

When Jackson interviewed at Goose Creek High School, the same school where he had completed his student teaching, Principal John Fulmer hired him on the spot. Jackson, who was happy to be back in the Lowcountry, forgot to ask exactly what he would be doing.

At Goose Creek High School, Jackson discovered he was teaching one physical education class. The rest of the school day, he served in an administrative capacity, and after school, he did what he loved most—he coached young student athletes, not just about game plays and strategies, but also about survival skills and life lessons. 

Jackson was in his element.

“I was in the best shape of my life,” he said. “I had an opportunity to get some practical experience in administration. I was still able to coach, and then in the evenings, I would go to graduate school.”

Four years later, with a master’s degree in hand, Jackson moved on to Timberland High School, where he served as assistant principal. Four years after that, he was named principal at St. Stephen Middle School and then Cane Bay Middle School. And then it was on to the district office.

“What I like about education is the impact that it has on the lives of young people,” said Jackson. “You really have an opportunity to inspire and encourage and help young people develop into who they can become.”

In May, Jackson was named superintendent of Berkeley County School District. It was a position he never thought he wanted, but in 2017, when he was thrust into the interim position after the superintendent abruptly retired, he found he had an aptitude for picking up broken pieces, creating normalcy and structure after a period of uncertainty.

“If it were just me, I’d be living on an island somewhere, living off the land and fishing every day. It’s not really for me—it’s truly to have an impact on the lives of these students and their families and the greater community,” said Jackson. “A school district is uniquely positioned to do all of those things through the resources that it has and also the partnerships. You have to be a good listener. You have to care about people. You have to be consistent because children respect consistency. I think they will push back against rules and structure, but the more consistent you are, the more they appreciate it.”

With the pandemic interrupting a smooth start to the academic year, Jackson is currently busy seeking solutions to problems. And he’s casting his net wide to ensure that students who attended school virtually for a year and a half are successfully reintroduced to the classroom. He realizes, too, that education needs to evolve to incorporate the successful elements of distance education.

“As long as we can deliver consistent, quality instruction, should that be eliminated from the realm of possibility? I don’t think so,” he said. “We talk about a teacher shortage, and this option may be a way to address some of those shortages by offering some flexibility in where we allow people to work.”

It’s a hot topic that many people debate, Jackson acknowledges, but it’s a conversation he wants to begin. For specialty areas, like career and technology classes where professionals are not likely to leave a high paying job for the classroom, the opportunity to supplement their exciting careers with virtual classroom instruction may be an option.

Providing resources to students and opening doors so they can see what’s available is important to Jackson. And when he comes across a student who seems like a good fit for The Citadel, he recommends his alma mater.

“I love The Citadel,” he said. “There are things I learned at The Citadel that I didn’t realize I was learning until after I got out. I still walk at a pretty swift pace, not quite 120 [paces per minute], but I walk at a pretty swift pace.”

In his job as superintendent of Berkeley County School District, Deon Jackson, ’99, opens doors for students, and when he comes across a student who seems like a good fit for The Citadel, he recommends his alma mater. Credit: Cameron Pollack / The Citadel

On the hardwood floors in the renovated Berkeley High School that was built in 1929 and now serves as the district office, the staff knows when Jackson is coming. The sound of his swift steps is unmistakable. Also unmistakable is the difference his 21-year career has made for scores of students. There are stories of young athletes down on their luck, stories of young scholars struggling because of circumstances beyond their control, and stories of students in need of guidance, understanding or resources. And many times over, those stories had a happy ending because as a concerned administrator, Jackson took an interest, extended a hand, coached and came up with a solution.

Another unexpected student he influenced: Janice Howard. When Jackson earned his undergraduate degree, he inspired his mother to go back and earn hers. And when he earned his master’s degree, Howard earned one too. During the career hullabaloo of the last few years, Jackson has put the doctorate degree that he’s been working towards on hold. When he finally finishes, Howard just may find that she has another goal, too.

It’s been 22 years since Deon Jackson, ’99, graduated from The Citadel, but the Berkeley County School District superintendent still walks at a swift pace. Credit: Cameron Pollack / The Citadel