I do not condone sneaking into private property to take construction photos. That being said, if I receive them I’m more than happy to post them as the ones seen below. Most of the photos would appear to be of the parking structure in the lower floors of the building. Too bad some of the exterior photos are a little blurry.
I suppose that most people, on their first arrival back to the place they call home, would call their friends and make their presence known. I on the other hand decided to avoid my overcrowded sub-subletted apartment by taking photo of the campus construction projects.
I have to come back to 107 weeks of this? I just lost one of my main walking paths to class. This is almost like coming back to my girlfriend in bed with someone else. I s’pose I should be glad I’ll only be affected by this for a year before I head elsewhere.
Well, I guess if they were going to close off the street, they might as well take advantage to do soil testing for the Johnson addition. Speaking of which, am Ithaca Journal article mentioned that mercury was found at the site [1]. Considering that the building was a chemistry building, and its first incarnation burnt down back in the days before WWI, this shouldn’t be too much of a shock.
The physical sciences building continues on its merry way towards completion.
MVR North is also well into its construction. I’m personally hoping the concrete and mortar parking base receives an attractive stone veneer to reduce some of the brutalist qualities of the north facade.
The Vet School’s Diagnostic Center has received part of its brick facade, on track for its opening within the next year.
Meanwhile, Barton Hall and anabel Taylor (not pictured) are being renovated, mostly with replacement stone for the facade, and roof repairs. Barton has been particularly needy for a reno because the stone on the tower was getting to a point where it was liable to crumble away, and it reasonably couldn’t be put off any longer.
The Hotel School addition is on target for its winter completion date. For a 12,000 sq ft addition, it really sticks out, especially when approaching from the north on East Avenue. Where the Beck Center used to clash with the south facade, now the new addition clashes with the older southwest wing of the hotel school. I don’t think it’ll do much for Statler Hall, aesthetically speaking.
[1]http://www.theithacajournal.com/article/20090720/NEWS01/907200328/Mercury+buried+on+CU+campus
The running title for this one was “The Best Seats on Campus”, but I thought that one was already used by the Sun.
Anyone who has ever been on campus knows that at one time or another, nature’s calls have to be answered. It helps to have a completely subjective and not all that extensive guide to consider when using them. The idea for this entry came from an eight-mile run I went on last week, where somewhere on mile four I was hit with the intense pressures of the excretory system, which left me hobbling half a mile to the southeast edge campus, trying six different academic buildings before I could find an unlocked door and make my way to a bathroom to relieve myself (it was about seven p.m., hence the problem with the locked doors). But look, it provided a lovely conversation topic.
Unless otherwise stated, all bathrooms are first floor or the main bathrooms for a given building. All bathrooms are also mens’ rooms, since being arrested is not high on my list of things to do before I leave Ithaca.
For those who may recall, the Sun did a nice little piece rating bathrooms some time ago, which I’m unable to find a link for online (if anyone does know the URL, I’ll be more than happy to post it here). I’ll be using the same three-star system.
Our first pit stop is Olive Tjaden. Tjaden satisfies the basic needs by being a clean, well-lit room, and amply stocked. the decor is (surprisingly) sparse for an arts building, and the panoply of pipes up at the ceiling leaves something to be desired in terms of aesthetics. But holy crap does this room have a lot of space. Like, as much space as the big bathroom in Olin Libe that should really only be used by handicapped people, only this one you don’t risk getting yelled by some woman in a wheelchair as soon as you open the door. I threw in Bishop’s History of Cornell book to give a sense of space.
Rating: * * *
Likewise, McGraw is adequately equipped to handle bathroom needs, but lacks the spaciousness of Tjaden, and we all know that space can be a big plus if you’re carrying a lot of crap (no pun intended). However, it does have a nice cheap-looking pillar running throught the stalls, as if to make a half-hearted appeal to be different.
Rating: * *
Uris Library is designed to be a high-capacity facility, so as a result, the frills are lacking. I maintain that the bookshelf against the wall of the urinals probably has some of the least-used shelves on campus. My one complaint is that on particularly wet and muddy days outside, all that just gets tracked into here, since the bathroom is so close to the entrance. Therefore, the rating changes depending on the day – decent (* *) on a good day, poor (*) on a messy day outside.
Rating: * * (dry weather day) / * (wet and/or muddy day)
Getting a photo of Olin’s bathroom was notoriously difficult thanks to the high volume traffic, even during this time of the year (these photos were taken during last week). Olin Libe’s main bathroom is in the basement, so it benefits from being a farther walk, as people have a chance to shake the mud and water off their shoes before they make it to the bathroom. While most restrooms make use of a privacy hallway to prevent peepers, Olin makes use of a second door , which can be both a blessing and a curse if someone is coming from the other direction.
Of course, in the 1980s, Olin Library bathrooms were much more invasive; here’s a DUE from Janurary 1987 [1]:
WHY ARE THERE NO DOORS ON THE MEN’S ROOM STALLS IN OLIN LIBRARY?
????????
[1]http://ezra.cornell.edu/posting.php?timestamp=538462800
[2]http://www.fs.cornell.edu/fs/facinfo/fs_facilinfo.cfm?facil_cd=2020
I knew that sooner or later, I would have to cover what is perhaps the most iconic building on campus. So here we are.
All citations, unless otherwise noted, are from Morris Bishop’s A History of Cornell (Cornell University Press, 1962).
Prior to renovation in the 1960s, the building was simply known as “The University Library”, even as other libraries were built across campus. It was Andrew Dickson White’s belief that “A large library is absolutely necessary to the efficiency of the various departments. Without it, our men of the highest ability will be frequently plodding into old circles and stumbling into old errors.” (77) The library was appropriated in September 1867 to the tune of $7,500 (175). The amount was up to $20,000 by 1880 (213).
Daniel Willard Fiske was appointed the first librarian. He was also head of the university press and an instructor in German, Swedish and Icelandic. It was his belief (and rather progressive for the time) that the library should be a reference library, open to enhance both faculty studies and student interests. As a result, his goals was to obtain, by purchase or gift, extensive book collections, such as the library of Goldwin Smith (6,000 books), Charles Anthon (3400 books) and the like. A.D. White was also known for buying rare books on his overseas trips (both with his own funds and with university money). As a result, by 1873, there were 34,000 books and 8,000 pamphlets in the libe—a substantial figure for an American university. When it first opened, the library boasted that it was open longer than any other U.S. university — nine hours a day. (108)
Fiske himself was easy to irritate and known for holding deep grudges from insults or perceived slights. Because the first university Vice-President William Russel was known for a gift of mockery, the two absolutely despised each other. However Fiske was also very kind and generous; he was particularly fond of the Psi Upsilon fraternity men, and was once chastised by White for giving an inordinate portion of his salary to the chapter and its needy brothers (108). He also was chastised for offering a glass of ale to a student, to which he responded that the student interrupted him in his drinking time with a friend, and he felt obliged to offer a glass (108).
Since Fiske was in Egypt when the university opened in October 1868, the actual first librarian was a prominent local lawyer, Thomas Frederick “Teefy” Crane, of “Give My Regards to Davy” fame. Crane studied languages in his private time, and as a result he also was the German instructor at opening. Crane enjoyed the experience enough that he himself went abroad, came back and switched places with another professor to become the instructor of French, Spanish and Italian in 1870. (109)
So, now we get to the “Great Will Case”. Jennie McGraw, aged 37, received a large inheritance after her father’s death in 1877. Already battling tuberculosis, a number of men offered to marry her, some of which were gold diggers I’m sure. One of the men who courted her was Willard Fiske. He wrote love poems to her, but he never showed them for fear of being called out as a gold digger. Anyways, as the rich and bored are wont to do, McGraw arranged to have a fabulous house built off of University Avenue, bordering Fall Creek, and then bought thousands of dollard of furnishing for it (224). In the meanwhile, both McGraw and Fiske went abroad to different parts of Europe in 1879. There is no record of contact in Europe between the two prior to April 1880. During this time however, Fiske used his influence on A.D. White to work over affairs back at Cornell. Locals assumes that because White was known to have lent Fiske money, and the two were close, that he and Sage were buttering him up so that if he and Jennie were to get hitched, that her fortune would be given someday to Cornell. (225).
In April 1880, Fiske went to Rome to join Jennie, now invalid and near death. The courtship between 48-year-old Fiske and the dying 40-year-old McGaw was short. They became engaged in Venice. Fiske announced it in a letter in May 1880 to A.D. White (along with a request for money). As one can imagine, some people looked upon Fiske’s behavior as mercenary. The two were married in Berlin on July 14, 1880 (226). At the time, Fiske signed a letter giving up his rights to Jennie’s property, under Prussian law.
The two spent the winter on the Nile, and then returned to Europe. By June 1881, the two were informed in Paris that Jennie had only a few weeks to live. Her dying wish was to pass on in Ithaca, so they made the trip back by September. I know, more than a few weeks, but whatever. She saw her mansion, newly built, and said (as she was propped up from her pillows) “it surpasses all my expectations”. It was the only time she ever saw the mansion, as she died September 30, 1881. When she died, Judge Boardman (of Boardman Hall) asked for the will. No one could find it, which would really suck for all parties because then they would have to use John McGraw’s will, and then the inheritance would go to John McGraw’s brother and his five kids since Jennie had no hubby or progeny. Luckily, they found it in a secret pocket in a handbag that had been dumped off as junk in Fiske’s attic (227).
The will stated that Fiske would get $300,000, $550,000 to her uncle and his kids, and $200,000 for a library at Cornell, $50,000 for McGraw Hall improvements, and $40,000 for a university hospital. The university also gained her land estate, including the mansion (valued at $600,000+), which A.D. White thought would be a dream home for an art gallery (227). Fiske, as custodian of the mansion, was to continue to occupy the house, and this raised issues. Namely, that he was known for being very needy financially; he offended Henry Sage by having parties in the room she died in no more than two months after her death; and Boardman simply didn’t like him, perhaps because of a rumor that Fiske suffered from marital indiscretions while in Europe. (228).
Here’s where the real fun begins. In May 1882, the state changed Cornell’s charter a little bit, but in one embedded section, it removed a portion detailing that the university couldn’t receive or hold personal property equal to or more than $3 million dollars. This was very convenient. In June 1883, Fiske was about to settle his affairs by going abroad, when an apprentice lawyer in Elmira told him of the change, and that state law said that a wife can’t leave more than half of her property to charity. As you might guess, the sh*t hit the fan. (228).
So, we have two lawsuits, one to break the will by Fiske on the grounds of Cornell’s underhanded actions, and then another one by Jennie’s cousins, out for more of the fortune. Fiske sailed for Europe, leaving a surrogate to handle things (Judge Marcus Lyon). White sailed after him to beg him to reconsider, but then Sage cabled White to tell him he was to make no offer to Fiske. Most of the Ithaca and Cornell crowd hated Fiske now anyway. After much media attention (like an OJ Simpson trial for the 1880s), in May 1886, the ruling was in favor of Cornell. White wanted to let Fiske save face by offering concessions; Sage would hear none of it. Fiske appealed the judgment, and it was overturned in August 1887, so Fiske won the suit, and the McGraws won theirs. So Cornell appealed to the Supreme Court (231). Meanwhile, the friendship between White and Boardman/Sage had deteriorated to animosity, although Sage made an offer to build a library himself if they failed to get the inheritance. All the while, Fiske was living in a luxurious Italian villa.
In May 1890, the Supreme Court ruled against the university. However, they did say that Cornell’s endowment could be used for any university purpose, which was a small consolation. in the end, Cornell paid $180,000 in legal fees to David Hill, the apprentice lawyer of Elmira, and $100,000 for the McGraws’ counsel. One of Jennie’s cousins bought the mansion for $35,000, much to White’s anger. The house was sold by the McGraws to Chi Psi fraternity in 1896. Its furniture was auctioned off, mostly purchased by the other McGraws. Fiske’s lawyer never took another case—it was rumored he drank himself to death during the celebration (232). Henry Sage donated $500,000 for the library to be built, as was done in 1891. Willard Fiske returned to hobnobbing with the rich and famous, and book collecting. When he passed in 1904, he donated his library as well as his estate to the university. He also requested to be buried with his wife in the mortuary of Sage Chapel; when the university granted the request, the Sage family severed all ties to Cornell. (232).
***
Long-winded, isn’t it? Well, I’ll go on for a just a little while longer. I have to make up for some lost time.
The actual cost of the libe was $227,000, with room for 400,000 volumes (Cornell owned about a quarter if that at the time) (271). When received ,the Fiske fund was used for salaries and upkeep, and later book expenses; the library was already overcrowded by 1906. The library expanded in 1936 with the construction of more stacks on the south and west wings. The Great Depression was quite hard on the libe, and the head librarian at the time, Dr. Otto Kinkeldey, frequently complained about the lack of space and funding. A special library fund would be set up in 1941 (531). The library was internally reorganized in the late 1940s (576), and the Cornell University archives were created about the same time (600).
The library was renamed for Harold Uris ’25 in 1962, since he donated significant amounts to its renovation. In 1982, the glassy west wing was added, adding 214 seats , and was paid for my the Uris Brothers Foundation [1]. The 173-ft tall Library Tower was renamed “McGraw Tower” for Jennie McGraw in 1962.
As for the Chimes and more details about the tower, we’ll save that for another entry. For the Clocktower Pumpkin, we’ll leave that to a wikipedia quote:
“On October 8, 1997 a pumpkin appeared atop the spire of McGraw Tower. Because of the danger involved in retrieving it, administrators decided to leave it until it rotted and fell off. However, the pumpkin rapidly dried out in the cold air and remained on the tower until it was removed with a crane on March 13, 1998 (it was planned that Provost Don M. Randel would remove it, but in a practice run the crane basket was blown by a gust of wind and knocked the pumpkin off). Some people had claimed that a real pumpkin could not stay up that long without rotting and that it must be artificial. However, subsequent morphological, chemical, and DNA analysis by both faculty members and undergraduates confirmed that it was indeed a pumpkin.
In April 2005, a disco ball was attached to the top of the tower. A crane was hired to remove the offending orb in an operation which cost the university approximately $20,000.” [2]
[1]http://www.cornell.edu/search/index.cfm?tab=facts&q=&id=767
I decided to do a blog piece on some of the more important assets to our campus because I was working on a project yesterday and discovered that I had no entry that really discussed Bailey Hall. I figured I might fix that now.
Liberty Hyde Bailey Hall. The building was designed by Edward M. Green, Class of 1878 [1]. The building was first opened in June 1913 and intended for use by state college students, and for Farmer’s Week gatherings. It’s namesake, L.H. Bailey (1856-1954) was the first dean of the College of Agriculture at Cornell [2].
One if the original centerpieces of the building was a luxurious organ that was paid for largely by Andrew Carnegie, the industrialist [1]. The organ was mostly a gift for A.D. White’s 80th birthday in 1912.
One story from Bishop’s work concerning the history of the building might strike a note with some passionate politicos today. Back during WWI, an Austrian violinist named Fritz Kreisler played at Bailey. Unfortunately for him, the citizens of Ithaca weren’t as willing as the university to let him play a performance:
“The Hill prided itself on its broad-mindedness, its humanity above all nations and nationalisms. Fritz Kreisler, the Austrian violinist (who had played in Bailey Hall in October 1917, before an enthusiastic capacity audience), was again invited for a concert on 11 December 1919. But downtown a fervid patriotism reigned. The American Legion had condemned in national convention the appearance of any German or Austrian performer. Ithaca’s Mayor called on all patriotic citizens to stay away from the concert. Nevertheless Bailey Hall was packed, the front seats being conspicuously occupied by the football team. In mid-concert about eighty hoodlums, as the Sun termed them, cut the lighting circuit and tried to invade the hall. The students rose and fought. A large band returning from a basketball game took the invaders in the rear. Kreisler, unperturbed, played on in the din of the Battle of Bailey Hall. President Schurman took his stand beside the performer. A volunteer leaped to the stage with a flashlight for the accompanist. The invaders were magnificantly repelled, to the strains of Viotti’s Concerto in A minor. No tumult since Nero’s time has had such a fine violin accompaniment.” (433-34) [1 , 2]
The building has also had some other uses apart from an auditorium. Plant pathology was taught in the basement in the 1920s [2]. A CFCU branch used to be located in the back of the building. Today, since it’s the only academic building that has the size to host it, Prof. Maas’s PSYCH 101 is taught within its vast walls.
As originally configured, Bailey seated 1,948 people. However, as a result of wider seats and handicap access was installed during the renovation, that number shrank to 1,324 [3].
The plaza was installed only about a year and a half ago, a nice complement to the building. Originally, the Minns Garden was up here, and then that was replaced with a full parking lot towards the mid 20th century.
Yes, both photos are mine…taken about five months apart. That tells you how hesitant I was to write up the history of Sage Hall. For this, much of the information will be pulled from Bishop’s history of Cornell, with page citations in parentheses.
The best place to start, of course, is at the beginning. The building was originally known as Sage College, and it was an all women’s dorm. The building was the architectural pride of campus when it was completed in 1875 (98), designed by Charles Babcock, an architecture professor at Cornell. Prior to that, campus was the Old Stone Row, Casca and West Sibley; gray stone buildings that, while imposing, were utilitarian; Goldwin Smith once remarked “nothing can redeem them but dynamite”. The proposal for the building came while A.D. White was debating whether or not to accept a government post in Greece; the plan for Sage to endow this grandiose structure led him to reconsider (103).
The original endowment by Sage was in the amount of $250,000. The building’s design allowed for all the living needs of 150 to 200 lady students (148). Originally, the Botany and Horticulture department were to be housed here as well, since they were a subject that was “so suitable for young ladies”. The proposal for Sage was formally launched on February 13, 1872. Also that fall, sixteen women applied to Cornell, and our first female graduate, Emma S. Eastman, graduated in June 1873 (she married a classmate and went on to become a famous suffrage lecturer). By 1874, there were 37 women.
Meanwhile, in May 1873, the cornerstone was laid for Sage College by Mrs. Sage. The cornerstone is particularly interesting because of a commotion caused during Sage’s renovation in 1997. Workers were renovating near the cornerstone when they discovered a heavy metal box with letter placed inside it, bearing Ezra Cornell’s opinion on the status and future of coeducation [4]. Naturally, this discovery, while somehwat expected, raised quite a commotion on the campus, because no one had ever read the letter except Ezra Cornell himself. The full text of the letter can be found in the link. Long story short, he supported women’s education. Cornell had never shared his opinions about educating women before he passed away in 1874, so no one ever knew how he particularly felt until that letter was opened 124 years later.
To quote Morris Bishop (who wrote his book in 1962): “When at length the day of Sage College is done, may some historian remember these words and rescue the tin box from the demolishers!” (149)
Sage opened in 1875 to about 30 female occupants. The building rented out to fifty male boarders its first year, who often ate with the women, striing up trouble in the process (the Sage College manager makes special note of the extremely demanding gentlemen boarders from Psi Upsilon). Between 60 and 70 women live there for each year for the rest of the decade (208), and dropped back down to 30 by the early 1880s (246). Sage closed its doors to visitors at 10 PM, and flirtatious dances were highly frowned upon. The first panty raid took place in 1878, when men broke into the Sage laundry, snatched the ladies’ underclothing and threw it from the steeple of nearby Sage Chapel (209).
By 1881, the decline in numbers at the ladies’ dorm had caused Sage to doubt whether it should continue to exist. In letters to A.D, White, he floated the idea of turning it into an art museum, libary, or engineering building (247). Fortunately for women, Sage was completely full by 1891 (300), and women were no longer required to live in Sage. Many of our sororities, such as Delta Gamma and Kappa Alpha Theta, had their starts in Sage College.
Alas, by the mid 1990s the building had worn down with time. The last dorm residents (co-ed since the 1930s) moved out in 1995, and the building was given to the Johnson School for renovation in 1996. The renovation and addition was desinged by Alan Chimacoff, a Cornell alumnus [5]. The $38 million renovation was completed in August 1998.
Today, The Johnson Graduate School of Management resides in the building, with an atrium, class space, meeting areas, and Sphinx Head’s meeting room (supposedly).
[1] History of Cornell, Morris Bishop, P. 362
[2]http://baileyhall.cornell.edu/about.html
[3]http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bailey_Hall_(Ithaca,_New_York)
[4]http://www.news.cornell.edu/chronicle/97/3.20.97/Ezra_letter.html
[5]http://www.johnson.cornell.edu/facilities/sagehall/
Yes, it’s spring break. I’m working in Ithaca and studying for a GRE I have in a few days. It’s warmer than usual and sunny. No, Ithaca does not miss you. Anyways…
The building in the center of this image is Morrison Hall. Morrison, the home of the animal science major (pre-vet and non-pre-vet flavors) was built in 1961 [1]- hence the fact it’s a 133,000 sq. ft. characterless box (though I guess that’s better than the monstrosity next to it, the Boyce Thompson Institute). The building was named for Frank B. Morrison, a professor and director of animal husbandry here at the university [2]. For the less recent alumni, the orange building in the back is the East Wing Addition to the Vet School that was completed in 2007. Yes, it has virtually, no windows. No one said Cornell’s modern architecture was known for its aesthetically pleasing qualities.
In contrast, as utilitarian as Baker was meant to be, it still retains some charm to it, probably from the classical columns and brickwork of the structure. According to Charles Wilcox [3], the initial designs for Baker were actually drawn up around 1910, which was six years before Morse Hall was destroyed in a fire. Funding for Baker came through in 1918, and during it construction the benefactor was anonymous. George Baker, a prominent New York banker who donated $1.5 million to its construction, only unveiled himself at the building’s dedication ( a similar experience occurred when Balch Hall was dedicated). The building had any number of problems from poorly maintained exhaust hoods to flooding in the basement to the ceiling being so low that chemical engineering could not fit in the building and so had to have a building of its own. Some of these problems were rectified when Baker was renovated in 1969, but others such as the flooding continue even into today.
In the same category as Morrison (the category being random ugly crap we threw up in the ’60s) is the Spencer T. Olin Laboratory Tower. I like this because there’s a nice detailed story concerning its construction floating around the internet [3]. The construction of the building was overseen by a Chem department honcho by the name of William Miller; he was less concerned about winning prizes in an architectural journal and more about the building performing its function properly. The nine-story, 64,000 square foot building was built in 1967, with the intention of being flexible in its use for the Chemistry department. The exhaust structures on the sides were built in the 1990s, making an unattractive building downright ugly. Two of the issues encountered during its instruction were an underground cave that actually caused a caisson (a base support column, if you will) to collapse (they believed an ancient underground river once ran through the site), and that the tarpaulins caught fire on the side of the building ( a tarpaulin is designed to allow construction in cold weather; like what you see on the new Vet building here).
The last incident involving Olin is something that one would come to expect at Cornell. To quote Charles Wilcox’s paper:
“The decision to use an outside architect and to go for efficiency rather than beauty led to an amusing incident. The dedication of the new wing was held at the four-story interface between old Baker and the new wing. When President Perkins rose to give his speech, a group of students from the College of Architecture who had secretly gathered on the roof of the passageway unfurled a building-long banner that read MEDIOCRE and waved placards reading UGLY and VERY UGLY. The startled president stepped back to avoid being hit by weights at the bottom of the falling banner; although grazed he graciously laughed and responded: I question your judgment, but admire your logistics. It is not recorded what Bill Miller thought, but it is likely that he took secret pleasure in knowing that he had not wasted money on unproductive artistic features. ”
Oh architects! And we thought all you did was chain smoke, lock yourselves in Rand and burn dragons. Speaking of which,
Me passing up photos on Dragon Day would’ve been like a pedophile passing a playground (though not nearly as perverse).
Continuing our tour of building that were only built out of necessity, we have to mention Clark Hall. The homes of AEP and vanilla Physics, this 84-foot tall box was completed in 1965, and was named for W. van Alan Clark 1909, an Avon perfume scientist who donated $3 million towards its $7.3 million price tag [4]. So equivalently, that would suggest the donor for the new physical sciences building would have to donate about $33 million to the reconciled cost of $81 million [5]. I’m all for tapping in to Ratan Tata’s fortune to cover it.
By the way, if we can handle the height of Clark, I see no reason why we can’t handle a much slimmer building of similar height in Collegetown. Just saying.
[1]http://jds.fass.org/cgi/reprint/44/10/3.pdf
[2]http://jas.fass.org/cgi/reprint/66/10/2696.pdf
[3]http://www.chem.cornell.edu/history/laboratories/STOlin.htm
[4]http://www.cornell.edu/search/index.cfm?tab=facts&q=&id=144
[5]http://www.fs.cornell.edu/fs/projects/
So, a little background story to this entry. One of the things that I’m in charge of for my fraternity is maintaining the alumni newsletter. So, I had to send snail mail and a typed letter to the publishing company. Much to my annoyance, the nearest computer lab to where I was at the time was in Lincoln Hall, the music building.
Well, I’ve never printed anything at Lincoln before, so when I selected printers, i accidentally sent it to 374 MTH instead of the MUSIC printer. I being off not-so-sound mind apparently managed to read that as 374 MUSIC, so I went up and began searching the third floor.
Then I found this display. Realizing its worthiness for writing materials, I grabbed my camera and took a few photos.
It seems the above pictorials date from ca. 1900, and were proposed designs for a combined Architecture and Fine Arts building. No word on where the building would have been built.
This Collegiate Gothic design was proposed in the late 1920s, and would have been where Gannett Health Center stand today. Alas, the plan never saw the light of day due to budget cuts brought on by the Great Depression.
This modernist structure was proposed in 1950, and would’ve been built where Noyes Lodge stands today. Considering this school’s record of modern architecture, part of me is glad this never saw construction.
http://www.theithacajournal.com/article/20090211/NEWS01/902110328/1002#pluckcomments
So, let’s start with the article:
http://www.theithacajournal.com/article/20090211/NEWS01/902110328/1002#pluckcomments
“A group of Cornell professors is urging the university to hold off on construction of Milstein Hall, citing concern about the economic recession and the building’s environmental footprint.
The ultimate decision on whether to go forward with Milstein Hall lies with University President David Skorton, and he has not yet made that decision, Cornell spokesman Simeon Moss said Tuesday.
Skorton announced a university-wide construction “pause” in October. The pause extends through the end of the fiscal year in June.
“Basically all projects that don’t have a shovel in the ground are subject to the pause, and the president and the executive vice president are reviewing those projects,” Moss said. On whether Cornell will move forward with Milstein Hall, Moss said, “That decision by the president hasn’t been made yet.”
Throughout its city approval process, Cornell officials repeatedly said that Milstein Hall is not subject to the construction pause.
On Monday Mark Cruvellier, chair of the Department of Architecture, sent The Journal a joint statement in favor of Milstein.
“This is a building that is urgently needed by the Department in order to maintain our accreditations as a professional school of architecture,” reads the statement signed by 13 architecture professors. “The building permit is in hand, bids have been reconciled, and it is, in today’s parlance, shovel-ready. Given the current low cost of materials and competitive bidding situation, to delay construction of Milstein Hall yet again will only add to its cost.”
Cruvellier could not be reached for comment Tuesday.
Milstein Hall has spent 10 years in the design and approval process, including two years gaining approvals from a variety of city boards. The city’s planning board and landmarks preservation commission have both signed off on the project.
Milstein Hall is proposed as a modern, glass structure that will physically connect with Rand and Sibley halls and stretch across University Avenue toward the Foundry. Another cantilevered extension would extend out into the arts quad.
A group of at least 25 Cornell faculty and alumni have petitioned the university to halt construction of Milstein, using The Cornell Daily Sun, other media and, today, the university’s faculty senate, government professor Elizabeth Sanders said.
Those opposed include an architecture professor, Jonathan Ochshorn, and music professor Martin Hatch, who has spoken against Milstein before a variety of city boards over the last two years.
Sanders contrasted the process and design for Milstein with Ithaca College’s new Park Center.
The Park Center received the highest rating possible from the U.S. Green Building Council, a LEED Platinum, and cost $19 million, according to the Ithaca College Web site.
“And we’re going to spend $60 (million) and get less space and much lower sustainability and a lot of offensive aspects?” Sanders said. “If Ithaca College can do this, why can’t Cornell do this?”
Andrew Magre, project manager for Milstein Hall and the Central Avenue Parking Garage, said last month the total project cost would be approximately $54 million.
Milstein Hall would be roughly 50,000 square feet, according to information presented to Ithaca’s planning board, and will include studio, gallery, meeting and exhibition space, and a 275-seat auditorium. The parking garage will include two underground levels and one surface level for a total of 199 parking spaces.”
***
Let’s consider the Park Center for a moment.
Photo by Granger Macy
The Park Center was a $19 million dollar project to build a 38,800 sq ft building [1] on the Ithaca College campus that was completed in early 2008 (it’s also the building that caught fire during the fourth of July celebrations).
So, let’s consider some key differences between the Park Center and Milstein Hall.
-Milstein is cantilvered and is connected to two structures that are a century old (Rand Hall) and ~110 years old (East Sibley). Park Center isn’t. The area was home to a green space that bordered a parking lot (and oddly enough, was not a suggested building site on the Ithaca College master plan [2], and to the contrary seems to throw off the master plan by cutting off the proposed green avenue through the main campus).
-Milstein had to go through red tape hell after Paul Milstein’s original $10 million donation in 2000. Park Center was launched with a major donation from Dorothy Park in 2002 [1]. The cost has gone from somewhere in the 20 million dollar range when first proposed to $40 million from a couple of years ago to about $54 million today. I wonder if that total includes the $2 million Cornell paid for University Avenue so they could actually build the damn building.
-Milstein incorporates a parking garage, auditorium, and bus stop. Park Center has a large atrium, but otherwise it’s mostly offices and smaller lacture spaces [1]. Park Center is LEED platinum (highest ranking), and Milstein is gold (second highest ranking).
My issue is that the comparison does an unfair presentation of facts. If we were to plop Milstein out on the alumni fields or near the vet school, I bet it would be a lot of cheaper too. Park Center didn’t have the red tape issues or ambient environment issues that Milstein Hall has to deal with.
My other issue is that some people are finding fault with the modern design. Let’s not start that crap again. In my own opinion. this is probably the least offensive design of the three that have been planned, if but just because it spares Rand from the wrecking ball. I’ll admit I’m no fan of it, but it’s less jarring than the previous two proposals. For one thing, architecture schools have a habit of wanting to be on the cutting edge of design (makes sense, considering building design is much of their field). Plus, the design is going to be different, because if people want to preserve Rand and Sibley the building has to build up or out. Being on the Arts Quad, I’m willing to wager some passionate people would rather burn the construction site down than let it build up.
As much as this site is a Cornell construction monitor, and as I much as I actually like seeing new projects go forward, I’m really torn opinion-wise. Yes, I’d like to see the the architecture build-out so it can have more (badly-needed) space. However, with operations cuts across the board, I don’t see a good reason this should be spared. My concern, however, is that prices will continue to skyrocket, costs will be prohibitive and the project will have to go back to the drawing board again, and AAP will have a crisis due to its trip through red tape hell.
I guess if Cornell is going to put off all non-current construction until at least June 30 (see Skorton e-mail), I’d better go back to campus touring.
The Biotechnology building. So bland we didn’t even bother to give it a real name (or Cornell just hasn’t seen the right dollar amount—one of the two). The 150,000 sq. ft building was completed in 1986 (which might just as well be the height of modern-design blandness) by the firm Davis and Brody [1]. I guess when comparing this to Comstock Hall, which was also built in the mid-1980s, this is a mild improvement. The building, as the name suggests, focuses on biotechnology research, such as genetics and molecular biology. The building’s use is strictly research, housing 36 faculty, 50 post-docs, and about 100 graduate students [2]. Along with its primary use, the building houses a small dining facility and the Keller reading room.
When it was first completed in 1931 [1], the Plant Science building was the largest single dedicated to plant research in the world (its about 170,000 gross sq ft [4]. The building was designed by Sullivan Jones in the Beaux-Arts style, but I’d venture a guess that it’s a stripped Beaux-Arts style, because the ornamentation is quite restrained, and since it was finished at the start of the depression (the building did stay true to the initial design). Plant science serves as the home to the plant science and horticulture departments [3]. The building itself isn’t particularly attractive, but the Minns Garden on the south side is the showpiece of the grounds. The garden is named for former professor Lua Minns, who used it in the 1920s as a practice ground for her students to do hands-on gardening work [5]. However, the original plot of land was where Bailey Plaza and Malott Hall stand today.
Courtesy of the Cornell Chronicle
In case you’re wondering, the building between the garden and Bailey Hall is Liberty Hyde Bailey’s model rural schoolhouse, which was built in 1907 and probably lasted until demolition for Malott around 1960 [6].
Stimson Hall was completed in 1902 and designed by locally-renowned architect William Henry Miller [7]. While funded by Dean Sage (son of trustee Henry Sage for whom the Hall and Chapel are named), the building is named for Lewis Stimson, who was instrumental in the establishment of the Cornell Medical School. From 1902 to 1908, the medical school resided in Stimson Hall, but afterward it was relocated to New York City, where it still continues to exist today as Weill Cornell Medical Center. It should also be noted that part of the building was a morgue at this time.
Stimson was designed with the intention of a second identical building facing south to be built were Day Hall currently stands; but for whatever reason it was never built, so the south side looks a little incomplete, with a terrace that faces out into a parking lot today (the area between the two buildings was to function as a courtyard).
Today, Stimson Hall serves as the home of the Biological Sciences department, and the university Ombudsman (a person appointed by Day Hall to handle and address citizen complaints, according to Wikipedia [8]). When Kroch was built, Stimson was planned to be renovated into a library, but due to budget constraints, that was never undertaken. The tunnel between Kroch and Stimson was built to serve that purpose, but now it is only open for public use one day of the year—Slope Day [11].
Speaking of Day Hall, we might as well briefly discuss it. To no one’s surprise, Day Hall houses most of the upper administration offices; for example, Skorton’s office is on the 3rd floor. The building was designed by Frederick Ackerman in a stripped classical style and completed in 1947 [9] (offhand, I believe Ackerman also designed the Psi Upsilon and Sigma Phi fraternity houses fifteen years earlier). The building was dedicated shortly after completion to Edmund Ezra Day, Cornell’s fifth president (1937-1949). Before renovation, the building provided sleeping and bathing facilities on the third, fourth and fifth floors for faculty.
For another fun tidbit of history, Day Hall was taken over in a non-violent protest for three days in November 1993 [10]. The takeover stemmed from protests from Latino students over a combination of incidents and complaints with the university, including the vandalizing of a large art installation by a Latino artist, and lack of minority representation within Cornell faculty.
And for the last time, there is no tunnel that leads from Day Hall to the Cornell Store.
[1]http://www.people.cornell.edu/pages/cre8/cudb/buildings.html
[2]http://www.mbg.cornell.edu/cals/mbg/resources/index.cfm
[3]http://hort.cals.cornell.edu/cals/hort/about/plant_sci_bldg.cfm
[4]http://www.fs.cornell.edu/fs/facinfo/fs_facilInfo.cfm?facil_cd=1022
[5]http://www.cornell.edu/tours/tidbit_template310d.html
[6]http://ecommons.library.cornell.edu/bitstream/1813/3171/36/009_36.pdf
[7]http://www.cornell.edu/search/index.cfm?tab=facts&q=&id=693
[8]http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ombudsman
[9]http://www.cornell.edu/search/index.cfm?tab=facts&q=&id=239
[10]http://cornellsun.com/node/26269
[11]http://ezra.cornell.edu/searched.php -3/16/2004
So, I came across rather serendipitously while going through some archived photos. Luckily, since I carry my camera around with me everywhere, I was able to take a photo.
So, this comes from a revised edition of the 1954 Cornell Historical Photo book that I previously used in an entry, this being the 1965/66 update. This is clearly evident with the photo at the top, taken in approximately 1964 when Clark Hall was under construction.
Then we look at the bottom photo. And you notice there’s no Rockefeller. It’s replaced with some massive complex. My first thought was “what the f— is that! It’s f—–g massive!”.
First, some chronological details. Since James Perkins is in the photo, and Clark Hall is completed, and this book was published in late 1965/early 1966, so we can assume this photo dates from about 1965. From the caption, we know this was a building proposal that would have been completed by 1980 (notably, the growth in numbers the caption cites stayed largely true to form- there were a little more than 17,000 students in 1980, but about 11,500-12,000 were undergraduate).
So, then we have the “renovated” Rockefeller—a massive low-rise building that by my guess was 180,000 or 200,000 square feet (for reference, Rockefeller is 125,000 gross sq ft [1]). There’s a large extrusion streetside, that I’m kinda imagining wasn’t too different from the west extrusion of Uris Libe that was built in the early 1980s. The low-rise largely conforms to Rockefeller’s footprint otherwise.
Then we have the massive tower right behind A.D. White’s house. We’ll call that “Rockefeller Annex”. This annex is massive- the model, when compared to surrounding buildings, suggests to me between 15-18 floors. The building has an odd rooftop with an indentation that was likely a balcony area. Design-wise, the building is strikingly similar to Lawrinson Hall, a highrise dorm that was built at nearby Syrcause University in 1965 [2].
Photo copyright of Syracuse University
However, the building at Cornell is a little different-facade wise, it seems to bear similarities to the model used for Olin Labs, which would be completed in 1967 and probably had only just finished with the final design. Think about it. An eighteen-story box with thin vertical windows like Olin Labs.Yes, that is a very horrific thought. It would be sacrilege to A.D.White’s house. Plus, the Big Red Barn would’ve been torn down to make way for the tower and its 3/4-story component to the southeast.By the way, behind Perkins and Provost Mackesey are some site plans. Which show three extensions from the renovated Rockefeller, but not much else for discussion.Conclusion: While we had some really bad architecture in the 60s and 70s, just be glad that not all of it was built. Be very glad.[1]http://www.fs.cornell.edu/fs/facinfo/fs_facilInfo.cfm?facil_cd=2014
[2]http://housingmealplans.syr.edu/facilityinformation.cfm?id=9
Ithacating in Cornell Heights 