Original Article: http://dartreview.com/archives/2002/02/04/slow_nights_at_fratless_hamilton_college.php
Monday, February 4, 2002
The gas tank was full, the path was determined, the CD player cooking out the finest in Lynyrd Skynyrd. We were off to Hamilton College in Clinton, NY to gauge the social scene after that college took the students' fraternity houses away. In other words we were driving six hours to party like it was our job, and it was.
The weather was perfect for the drive, freezing rain and blinding snow, no better place to be than the highway. The four wheel drive Land Rover wedged against the guardrail, a victim of black ice, made us question the absurdity of our assignment: to randomly seek out students late at night and find out just what they do with their Friday nights. 'Be gregarious' was our editor's best advice.
The states blended into one another as we crisscrossed famous landmarks of Vermont and upstate New York, the Beech-Nut Foods Factory, Cooperstown Hall of Fame, Chemung County, and Fultonsville's welcoming arms of exit 6 on I-90W. We agreed how blessed we were to have not been raised in upstate New York.
Six hours down the road, we finally arrived in majestic Utica, its cityscape of broken down smokestacks a beacon of hope for all. Clinton stood only ten minutes down the road. With flawless directions from the attendant at the Mobil Station, we arrived one hour later at Hamilton, its gorgeous campus obscured by the driving blizzard. If the night continued like this, we would surely end up pounding beers in a Motel 6, sans Hamilton students, mumbling expletives.
Braving the winter weather, four Hamilton students crossed in front of our car as we arrived. I leapt from the moving vehicle, as Rollo, in his excitement over our new 'friends,' sent the Volvo into a skid.
'Dudes...This may sound sketchy, but my name is Ryan Gorsche from The Dartmouth Review, and I just drove six hours to party.' Paul, clearly a party animal, with his new Calculus textbook and retainer gleaming in the lamplight, informed me that we had come on the wrong night. 'No one parties at Hamilton on a Friday.' Rollo swooned.
With Paul's expert advice, Rollo and I headed to the local convenience store to purchase supplies. If we had to start this party ourselves, so be it.
We eventually learned that students find parties at Hamilton by entering dormitories and listening for noise. South Dorm was our best bet. Upon our arrival, five gentlemen could be seen 'partying' by themselves in their room. This is what we had come for.
Introducing ourselves, we explained our predicament, and were graciously welcomed into the dorm room that now serves as the Psi Upsilon meetinghouse. As the beer began flowing, so too did our conversations about the Hamilton nightlife. 'Hamilton sucks,' Gavin, a senior and brother of Psi U, informed me. Rollo and I nodded in agreement. After a few minutes of friendly banter, Rollo and I were swept up three flights of stairs to a room party already in progress.
The throbbing bass of dance music swelled through the hall. Rollo and I entered the room expecting to find a veritable dance club erected inside, but instead found ourselves thrust into a room of thirty people sitting around drinking. I began sweating, as the bodies heated the room past any comfortable temperature. The students crowded around us, excited by the novelty of it all, the silliness of anyone reporting on the Hamilton social life. One man thanked us for our presence hoping it would shake up the usual monotony of a Friday night.
The unilateral feeling about Hamilton's decision became quite evident within minutes. Thatcher Martin, President of Hamilton's chapter of Psi U, told us that no one present had actually attended Hamilton when the fraternities still had their houses in 1995, but that since the beginning of his involvement with his fraternity he had become well acquainted with the problems that have since arisen.
'By doing what Hamilton did, the administration focused strictly on the drinking aspect of fraternity life, disregarding the importance of friendship and brotherhood that comes from a group of guys sharing a common living and social area. It isn't just a place to party that we lost, it was much more,' Mr. Martin informed us. The other brothers agreed. The Psi Upsilon fraternity continued to stick together, traditions still ran strong, but without a house at which to congregate, meeting as an entire brotherhood has become difficult.
So what has become of the fraternity houses since the school took them away?
Nothing.
One house has been converted into an administration building, but for the most part the large mansions remain empty.
'The Sigma Phi House was the first ever additional chapter of any fraternity in the country. Our Psi U house was the largest physical plant of any fraternity east of the Mississippi. Both of them still remain empty, which is troubling considering how long the school has owned them. These mansions are historic landmarks to anyone involved in the Greek system, at Hamilton or elsewhere. They were an essential part of the fabric of the school, and yet all they do now is rot,' Mr. Martin lamented. What makes Hamilton's decision most unfair was the price given for the houses. The Psi U house was purchased for $400,000, a ludicrous offer since the house cost well over $100,000 to build nearly one hundred years ago.
Since the houses were taken more than fraternity brothers' parties has been affected, like Hamilton students' safety. Room parties remain the staple social outlet. 'Students who chose to drink used to party at the houses. This created a safer atmosphere with social drinking. It was much more difficult to become dangerously drunk with a hundred people around you. Now you have four kids in a room with a bottle of alcohol, creating a much more dangerous situation,' Liz, the Rush Chair of her sorority, told us.
Furthermore, room parties usually end up being carried over to the local bars, nearly two miles away. 'DWI's have skyrocketed since the school's decision. In some fairness, the school does offer a shuttle into town during party nights, which is nice. Still, lots of students have that feeling of invincibility and drive to the bars themselves,' Mr. Martin explained. More than DWI's, Hamilton now has a greater problem with underage drinkers using fake ID's at the local bars. 'Local police have been busier handling underage drinkers, and its put somewhat of a strain on the relations between the College and the town of Clinton. I saw people much smarter about drinking, prior to fraternities losing their houses,' Jack, the owner of one of Clinton's two bars, told us.
The bar scene itself left something to be desired. Rollo spaced out in the back room playing an exhilarating game of cribbage while I waited in line for the pinball machine. I hate pinball. Later Rollo lost his weekly allowance on the eight ball table, while I fell asleep at our table. With plenty of fraternity houses to choose from, Rollo and I know that we can find various outlets for our weekly stress. Whether it's dance parties, which we generally avoid, a local band, or a rousing game of pong, with fraternity houses the options are open. Each house has its own individual character.
The students at Hamilton, however, have only two bars to choose from, which, while bearable that evening, could become quite tiresome after four years of partying. And at the bar's drink prices, we could understand that many students may find their social options restricted financially, unless Hamilton accounts for weekly pitchers of beer in their financial aid packages.
Hamilton chose to acquire the houses in hopes of raising its rankings by attracting smarter minorities and women, who are supposedly intimidated by the Greek system. 'The rankings have gone up somewhat, and the average class may be slightly better off, but the social scene has changed for the worse. Students have taken to binge drinking in their room, and social options have become bland,' one student we met in the bar told us. While Hamilton has achieved some of its goals, it seems to be a Phyrric victory. The students we met agreed that the loss of a traditional Hamilton social scene is much worse than the small gain made in rankings. 'I almost did not come to Hamilton, because of the situation with the fraternity houses,' Rob Kuchar told us.
In exchange for the houses, Hamilton tries to encourage social events by allowing Greek organizations to rent social spaces. The organizations must provide security and pay for cleanup. 'A lot of damage happens to the social spaces, at a cost to the school. Rather than damages happening to our own houses, it happens to the school's buildings,' Mr. Martin told us.
As for providing a weekly meeting area, we were told that the school had promised a meeting area five years ago as a result of a Psi U lawsuit, but one brother told us they had been provided, with a space, infrequently, only at the beginning of this year.
Tired of the Hamilton social scene, Rollo and I drove back to our luxurious Motel 6 suite in Utica at 3:30 am. Hungry, we headed to the neighboring 24-hour Denny's, which was closed. Foiled, we headed home, heads down, stomachs empty. All we had to account for the evening was a '92 Volvo minus one taillight, a product of Rollo's poor driving skills, and a dearth of good party stories. As our new friend Gavin had warned us, Hamilton's party scene really does suck.