If you look closely at the Boatwright Library tower, you can see that it doesn’t contain any bells, and yet the sound of chimes is frequently heard on campus. What you’re actually hearing is a carillon, a keyboard instrument that either controls an actual set of bells or, as in Boatwright’s case, imitates their sound electronically.
In 1955, music professor Hilton Rufty, an experienced carilloneur, helped University president George Modlin select an electronic carillon with a five-octave keyboard for the newly constructed Boatwright Library. Rufty gave informal performances in the tower, 
and in October 1957 an inaugural concert was performed by his teacher, the Belgian carilloneur Anton Brees. The chimes could also be played automatically, by means of perforated paper rolls similar to those used in player pianos. In this way, they were activated to signal class changes on weekdays and play hymns on Sundays. Christmas carols and Easter music also emanated from the tower during those holiday seasons. Rufty continued performing live on the Boatwright carillon, and he also composed new music for it. After his death in 1974, the chimes were played automatically until lightning struck a transformer in 1980.
Willie Reams
The carillon remained silent for two years, until biology professor Willie Reams arranged for repairs and took over as its self-proclaimed keeper. Reams’ taste in music was considerably broader than his predecessor’s, and at 8:00 am, 12:30 pm, and 5:00 pm the chimes could be heard playing Beatles songs (initially shocking the campus) and Broadway show tunes, in addition to holiday music and UR songs like “The Fightin’ Spiders of Richmond.” Apparently, not everyone was a fan of Reams’ musical choices. One student wrote to The Collegian that “while you have to respect the man’s intentions, it does not give him the right to subject innocent ears to plunkings that evoke feelings similar to those one receives hearing a child’s first public performance of ‘Chopsticks’.” Others complained that the 8:00 am chime, intended to signal the impending start of classes, was disturbing their sleep. At some point in the late 1980s the morning chime was discontinued.
Reams was clearly devoted to the Boatwright carillon. He paid for its restoration and repair, and bought new rolls for the automatic mechanism. He sometimes played it for on-campus weddings, looking out the small tower window to gauge when the newly married couple would emerge from the Chapel. But there was also controversy, as some faculty members complained that an electronic carillon sounded artificial, and that Reams was only allowed to control it thanks to his friendship with a major donor to the University.
The carillon in 2018
Into the early 1990s, the Boatwright carillon still ran on old-fashioned radio tubes and paper rolls. It broke down frequently, and repair costs continued to grow. In 1993, Reams paid for a newer model manufactured by the Schulmerich Company in Pennsylvania. This new carillon has a two-manual keyboard, and can also be played automatically by means of digital discs, rather than paper rolls. The current carillon has a repertoire of over 300 songs.
In recent years, the Boatwright carillon has been the responsibility of Joanne Kong, the Music Department’s Director of Accompaniment and Coordinator of Chamber Music. Kong compiles playlists for the automated system, and also plays the chimes herself to commemorate solemn occasions such as 9/11 and the Virginia Tech shootings. On April 4, 2018, Boatwright Library’s carillon was put to a unique and moving use. To mark the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King’s death, institutions across the country, including the University of Richmond, tolled their bells 39 times, once for each year of Dr. King’s life.
Although rumors of students breaking in and playing the carillon appear to have been false, there have been some notable mishaps. In the middle of a class day in November 1976, the strains of “Rock of Ages” rang out unexpectedly from the tower, courtesy of a malfunction that triggered the chimes’ automated Sunday playlist.