In Praise of Decrepitude

12 happy Nappies and friends enjoy a really nice day at the Wash. See the frisbee. See another Nappie President, Emily Moseley '95 #1074, lean over the wall away from the camera. Not pictured: Three kegs of Swiss imported Lowenbrau.

According to recent information, the proposed program is more extensive than anticipated. Pomona's oldest fraternity has unveiled plans to apply the balance of their considerable fund to completely "restore" the Greek theater. The Student Life reports an unnamed landscape-architect alumna searched the campus for a site on which to practice her skills. Apparently she targeted the Wash's Greek theater, perhaps imagining the lack of repair had consigned it to desuetude. How this project wound up with the KD's funding is unclear. The Student Life describes the proposed improvements including an enlarged stage, "discreet stone towers" for lighting and sound, new seating on the grass banks [emphasis mine], restricted access through a new fence, box office, and presumably, new, "formal" landscaping. In other words, a completely new, refashioned Greek theater, done up in the same glossy drag as much of the rest of the campus.

Why? Where is the necessity? Why is a large sum of money dedicated to the redesign of an obscure campus feature by a fraternity that never used it to honor a faculty member who probably had not visited it in years? Why are the KDs soliciting funds from other fraternities' alums for a project that will only glorify the KDs? Why are other fraternities mildly allowing the KDs to present the fiction that this is an "all-fraternity" undertaking? At present, answers are not forthcoming.

Some have suggested that a new Greek theater would be a suitable venue for parties and concerts. Nothing prevents these events from being thrown in the Greek theater now. It has been suggested that the Theater Department might wish to hold performances in the Greek theater. Once again, how is that desire curtailed by the present condition of the site? Daylight hours serve an amphitheater best. Night use would seem to be so infrequent that theatrical lighting appears a ridiculous expense. And a sound system? This is a Greek theater after all, it would defeat the purpose. Increased seating? There is plenty now.

Eumi Lee '95 #1060, Active President in the Spring of 1994 (when this photo was taken) strolls up the steps at the Wash.

There is an underlying and deleterious current that has put the Greek theater at risk. It flows beyond KD or theatrical self-glorification to murkier motives that have already transformed the entire campus. The Greek theater is at risk because it is old and decrepit. Pomona seems to dread such stagnation and decay. Witness the building and refurbishment campaign of the last ten years. The Greek theater and the Wash at large are the last untouched places.

The Class of '13 built the Greek theater in the Wash for "Class Day" presentations traditionally performed prior to commencement. "Wash I," now an alumni day event distinct from graduation, is the vestigial remains of this tradition. Pictures in the 1915 Metate depict "The Spirit of Claremont" and "The Spirit of Pomona" done up in diadems and classical drapery in an allegorical tableau from the pageant of 1914, in which the local townsfolk participated. Also presented that year was an imagined re-creation of pioneer days (a play from the previous year had celebrated the Noble Savages of Indian Hill). The students of the 'Teens were terribly proud of their spanking-new amphitheater with its bleacher seating marching up the grassy slopes, and made frequent use of it.

Later generations did not endure such earnest exercises with straight faces, and the pageant fell out of fashion. The Greek theater became the occasional site of the bonfire on the eve of the Big Game with Oxy, and the Junior Plug Ugly. Though these are more recent events, they remain as unimaginable now as the masques of the previous era. As bonfires, pep rallies, and other ceremonies fell out of practice, the Greek theater gradually slipped into decay.

In the following years, the Greek theater's character developed as a place of repose and contemplation. The concrete weathered and began to crumble, the bleachers rotted away, grass sprouted in cracks in the steps. Sitting in the center of the heavily-wooded Wash (known only to the record-keepers by its formal name, Blanchard Park), the theater essentially became an architectural folly reminiscent of the fictional ruins beloved by eighteenth-century garden planners.

In such a setting, one could briefly forget schoolwork, the outside world and let one's imagination roam. The hoary old oaks and the weathered forms of the amphitheater produced an atmosphere that was restful, timeless, and a little melancholy. Shakespearean forests and their inhabitants could easily be imagined in this setting as could any literary business involving amorous shepherds and shepherdesses. Such a charming, pastoral spot in the heart of a competitive academic environment had a tonic effect. Its forlorn, beautiful uselessness rebuked the proud dreams of ambition.

Live Music at the Wash. Would a scene like this ever be repeated at the new Sontag Greek Theater?

Almost in sympathy, Pomona's old buildings also preserved a connection to the past. Little Bridges and LeBus Court were choked by ivy, and Sumner Hall floors were uneven and would groan when trod upon. North Campus dormitories' concrete walls peeked through where years of sun, wind, and rain had scrubbed off the paint. In the loggia surrounding Bosbyshell Courtyard, some of the terra cotta had worn down below the level of the grout. Whether through lack of funds, conscious intent, or some other reason, everything looked as though it had been left undisturbed, save for basic maintenance, for fifty years. The North Campus dormitory doors and their hardware were original; the heavy, dark oak desks and chairs in the rooms had been there since the place was built. One could still sense the older school hidden under the new one, and in the Wash, one could still smell and taste the wilderness that had surrounded the little sagebrush Harvard in the early part of the century but was now confined to these few acres.

The college would soon receive several phenomenal bequests (the largest, approximately 20 million dollars, was engineered by a Nappie, the late Bob Maddox '41). With newly enriched coffers, there was no longer any reason to tolerate decaying buildings. In the spirit of the new decade, Pomona began an ill-fated program of eradication and construction that lasted into the 90s.

The rickety, delightful Seventh Street houses, to accommodate an expansion of the Science Library, were the first to go. Brackett House and other old frame residences south of Mudd Blasidell were razed to make room for what would later be Frank Hall; behind Harwood Court the charming little dining hall along the south side of the courtyard disappeared and was replaced a few years later by the punitively unattractive and woefully overscaled Lyon Court. Once Frank Hall was in the works, Olney Dining Hall behind Mudd was redundant and was pulled down. Prim, Victorian Holmes Hall, despised and beloved by the Theater Departments that inhabited it in its final years (and perhaps the single most heavily used building during its lifetime than any other on campus), fell to make way for the stunningly bland Alexander Hall.

And the list continues. Having apparently reached the statute of limitations for memorials to war dead, Memorial Gym was demolished for the Rains Center, and Renwick Gym, a wonderfully dilapidated old WWI-era army barracks pressed into service as an athletic facility had disappeared one weekend to make way for more parking south of Bridges. And around the perimeter of the Wash, tennis courts, playing fields and later, the Seaver Multi-plex would take increasingly large bites out of the little wild space that remained.

WASH I & Sun: Nancy Goudy '89 #999, Colleen Whitney '89, Dolph Lundgren, Kate McKinley '90 #1012 enjoy Swiss imported Lowenbrau at Wash I, the traditional alumni weekend event.

Even the buildings that still stood were affected. The North Campus buildings had once boasted a beautifully weathered patina that had taken 55 years to produce, and the steel sash windows had faded to a placid celadon green, but now the walls shouted with a chalky white opacity, and the windows were finished in a dispiriting (and terribly inappropriate) chocolate brown. New buildings were no better; set against the graceful Clarks the new dorm behind Frary was awkward and rude, and it came as no surprise that nobody wanted to live there. Apparently it struck potential donors the same way for it went nameless for years.

In the mid-1970s, Pomona College's campus spoke of a long and distinguished history, and the physical setting of that history was our collective memory, still largely in place. Pomona's overbuilt campus today says mostly that Pomona has a lot of money burning a hole in its portfolio and it wants the world to know about it. In the name of progress and expansion our collective memory has been swept away. Most recent building on campus has been insensitive to context and regrettable, with the result that much of the campus now has the anonymous, jumbled character of an affluent community college.

Sadly, the same fate is about to befall the Wash's Greek theater. Soon the crumbling concrete will be consigned to memory, like so many other vanished structures. It will be replaced by crisp new walls and steps. Careful landscaping will supplant the unmowed thicket that now surrounds the theater. Shining new bleachers will once again march up the grassy banks and the formerly perfect lawn will be rent by a concrete walk. The donors will surely feel they have lent the Greek theater purpose once more. But this is not 1914. There are no earnest pageants or edifying spectacles waiting to fill the space. The bleachers will remain empty this time; they are being built only because there is money to build them. Its very newness will destroy whatever charm the theater now has and drive away those who would seek to use it. The attempt to return the space to purposeful use will render it as sterile and repellent as the cinder-block walls of Lyon Court. And it will take years-until its name is forgotten, the concrete is crumbling, the landscaping is devoured by neglect and hardy weeds, and the bleachers have once more rotted away-for the charm and memories to be restored.

Postscript:

It appears that nothing can be done to stop the assault on the Wash's Greek theater. However, the details may as yet be unsettled. It may still be possible to scale-back or redirect the project. A Student Commission has been appointed to review students' concerns with the plans, but active Nappies are conspicuously absent from that board, despite their efforts to breach it. To their credit, the Actives made an opinionated and vociferous showing at a recent review hearing, but student activism alone will not mitigate the planned improvements. The administration has made no effort to seek input from alums, but claims to be receptive to our concerns. Dean Anne Quinley is the administrator to whom the Actives have been attempting to voice their concerns. Interested alums are invited to make their opinions known to her through the Alumni Relations Office, care of Lee Harlan. If enough of us write without delay to the Alumni Relations Office and express our concerns, it may be possible to force this ill-conceived project to be rethought.

- Chris Hall '82 #870