A fine line

reported

Consider the residential colleges. The Class of 2012 can’t imagine Princeton without Whitman College. Yet I overheard a few alumni talking earlier this year, reminiscing about how Whitman College had changed the view from the Dod-McCormick courtyard. Moving eastward, most sophomores and upperclassmen probably find the geography of the new Butler College dormitories confusing. After all, the project involved almost an entire residential college’s worth of new buildings. Freshmen, though, consider it just as much a campus fixture as the timeworn Holder Hall or Frick Laboratory.

Inside, however, buildings like Witherspoon Hall have undergone a number of facelifts. Built in the 1870s during the presidency of James McCosh (the man, not the lecture hall), Witherspoon even made it into F. Scott Fitzgerald’s writing. By the 1960s, though, the third, fourth and fifth floors were declared a fire hazard unfit for residency. The building came close to demolition in the 1970s, but a campaign to save it ultimately persuaded the University to renovate it and not demolish it. The most recent internal renovation came in 2002 and 2003; once more, the exterior survived and the interior did not.

The story of Witherspoon illustrates why we have restless construction all over campus. The students, faculty and alumni donors of Princeton demand a certain quality of facilities around campus. For the sciences, this means state-of-the-art laboratory space. For dormitories, this means air conditioning, elevators and fresh paint. The University necessarily spends a great deal of time and money promoting the school to applicants and donors. Plus, few of us would want to live in decrepit dorms all four years, so these efforts are decidedly necessary — there’s a certain expectation that comes with a nearly $50,000 annual price tag.

In that sense, Princeton’s perpetual transformation is not all bad. We shouldn’t completely fear the new just because of the history pervading almost every building, whether as remarkable as “Albert Einstein taught here” or as quiet as the stars marking the room of a Princetonian killed in a war. But there is surely a tasteful way to do it, in line with the dignity of the history and the needs of a growing institution. As University Architect Ronald McCoy GS ’80 wrote in a guest column on Tuesday, it is our duty to be responsible stewards of the campus.

After all, even if the trusty older buildings don’t have sleek architecture or environmentally friendly designs that we can brag about in our admissions booklets, they still have a certain character. I can’t imagine Princeton touching the exteriors of, say, Whig Hall or Nassau Hall in the foreseeable future — they are Princeton’s landmarks and the physical footprints of our historical legacy.

These historical institutions don’t need to be buildings, either. The Dinky outlasts much of Princeton’s campus. In its earliest form, the line dates from before the Civil War. The present route began in 1865, though the line was shortened when the station was moved south of Blair Arch after World War I. Though the Dinky’s trip is almost laughably short, it does predate the transcontinental railroad. If nothing else, it is the site of the last recorded train robbery in American history, albeit a prank one, in 1963. (The next time you look at a Bunn coffeemaker, know that it was a member of that family who was the most widely known culprit.) Suffice it to say that the Dinky is a piece of history.

Over the course of that history, America has gone from a nation that grew up with trains to a nation that increasingly drives or flies. No one would argue that Amtrak is currently a profitable proposition. But we have a demand for transportation between Princeton and Princeton Junction and a railroad that meets the demand. With that in mind, as other columns have pointed out on this page, a faster, more frequent train link between Princeton Junction and the University would be welcome.

Princeton’s progress would be hollow if we moved abruptly and without careful respect for the University’s history. The administration is usually cognizant of this. But as the University and community move forward with changes to the Dinky — or with any reconstruction project for that matter — they should remember that there’s a certain line we shouldn’t cross.

Brian Lipshutz is a sophomore from Lafayette Hill, Pa. He can be reached at lipshutz@princeton.edu.