‘Boom Box Guy’ found fame by carrying it
In the crowded CATA bus White Loop, music blasted from the Sonic TRC 931 boom box held by the famous Boom Box Guy. Girls dressed in tight mini black shirts grinded against each other while shouting the lyrics to “Tiny Dancer.”
It was 3 a.m. and people on the White Loop were packed together like sardines. The Boom Box Guy, dressed in a pressed gray suit, just smiled and walked slowly to the back of the bus with his boom box perched on his shoulder as the bus swung around the corner approaching the Meridian on College avenue.
When the Penn State students realized that this was the famous Boom Box Guy, they nudged their friends and pointed at him. Some of the riders whipped out their phones to videotape his performance.
Dubbed Boom Box Guy, many do not know his true identity: Brian Cronauer, of Wilkes-Barre, Pa., a fifth-year senior majoring in broadcast journalism at Penn State University.
“People look at him like some kind of celebrity, a crazy kid, but he is just a regular guy,” Cronauer’s friend, Cory Sprankle, said.
Three years ago, when arriving to Penn State University Park from the commonwealth campus of Altoona, Cronauer needed a way to meet people and spend his weekend nights other than playing videogames, he said.
I "didn’t drink, didn’t party, didn’t do anything,” he said while staring up at the television playing SpongeBob Square pants in Bradley’s Steak and Hoagies on Pugh street.
Looks around 5 feet 10 inches and extremely thin, Cronauer has short light-brown hair and a skinny, acne-scarred face.
One year for Halloween while he was at the Altoona commonwealth campus, he portrayed a D.J. by carrying a small stereo. People seemed to enjoy it, he said. He decided to try the act at University Park.
One night during his junior year, his friend, who was intoxicated at the time, convinced Cronauer to go to Canyon Pizza on Beaver avenue and play the boom box while dancing for money, he said.
At first, only some enjoyed listening to Cronauer’s boom box; others would yell insults at him, he said. Sometimes while walking on the street playing the boom box, he would be invited to parties. Then when he showed up to the house people would kick him out, he said.
But once he upgraded from his small Sony stereo to his current boom box people started accepting him, he said. By the start of his senior year people recognized him and would cheer when they saw him on the street, he said.
His friend Macy Golder followed Cronauer one night in the fall of 2012. Cronauer would start his night at Panera Bread on Beaver avenue and just walk down the road. When people spotted him, they would shout out in delight, then start dancing, she said.
“Out of 40,000 students, I made it,” he said. “Everyone and their mother” knows who he is now, Cronauer said.
Now Cronauer spends weekend nights either on the White Loop when the weather is cold, or in the warmer months, walking up and down College and Beaver avenues waiting for invitations for parties.
“It’s fun to do it sober, it’s fun to do it kind of drunk,” he said while shrugging. “It makes people happy.”
CATA does have policies banning the planning of loud music while the bus in motion. According to the CATA bus rider conduct policies, riders of the bus are prohibited from “playing music that can be heard by others.”
But the drivers many times just ignore Cronauer and let him entertain the weekend partiers.
“What he does is a luxury that can’t be paid for,” bus rider Zach Lacher said. “Right now, as he plays this music, it feels like no one here is a stranger.”
The fact that Cronauer did not originally drink alcohol made him different from everyone, Golder said. Cronauer hates to being in one place for a long period of time and if he was intoxicated he felt like he would get stuck, Cronauer said. He thought if he became drunk, he would not be able to carry the boom box, Cronauer said.
Cronauer set the standards that students do not need to drink alcohol to have a social life, Golder said. Penn State has established itself as a party school but he can inspire others who do not wish to drink, she said.
He does acknowledge, however that the boom box excitement is encouraged by students’ use of alcohol, he said.
“[It is} something different but fueled by alcohol,” he said.
Students would not have been as excited by someone walking around with a boom box if not intoxicated, he said while looking at the Bradley’s waiter for more ketchup.
When he does venture out, he goes alone. Friends will ask to join but he declines their offer. He enjoys the time by himself.
“Some people don’t like me because they think it got to my head,” he said while shrugging and smearing ketchup on his Philly cheese steak. “I don’t think it has.”
People take his personality the wrong way, Golder said.
“He’s a smart ass,” she added.
After the 2012 spring break in Panama, he retired for four days after boom boxing for a week straight. He realized all he was doing was boom boxing and his week seemed to only consist of the weekend, he said. He wanted to enjoy his last month of college as a normal college student, he said.
But the retirement did not last.
“I do it now… but I do it a lot less,” he said, looking torn between his desires.
He does not have many hobbies aside from boom boxing.
I “don’t do anything on campus, don’t go to the gym, don’t need to,” he said looking down at his scrawny stomach, then taking another huge bite out of the sandwich.
The impact of the Boom Box Guy will only be positive, Sprankle said. People can look back on college and smile when remember the man who spent his weekend nights trying to make others happy.
“I can’t tell what I add or what my legacy will be,” Cronauer said.
Cronauer will be graduating with the Penn State Class of Spring 2013 and decided to pick his successor. Although he does not know the man’s name, he recognizes the face constantly on the weekend, he said. Around 20 people asked for the honor but all backed out except this one man, Cronauer said.
