THE ARCHIVE

Today I received my first Cornell Alumni Magazine. This is a milestone in every Cornell student’s life because it stands as a testament to our growth over the past four years and our upcoming transition into the real world. Graduation is just around the corner for the class of 2009 and more than 4,000 Cornell students will soon be able to call themselves Cornell Alums.

The only catch is that I am not actually graduating. As a fourth-year architecture student, I am required to take another two semesters to earn a professional degree. After 138 years of architectural education, one might expect the University to realize that my classmates and I will be sticking around a bit longer. But, for whatever reason, my name has remained on the mailing list and I continue to receive updates about graduation, questionnaires about senior week, and notes lamenting my impending departure from Cornell.

“It’s hard to believe it’s our last semester at Cornell…” proclaims the most recent letter. What an insightful comment. I’m nearly positive that this semester is NOT my last at Cornell.

“Now, more than ever, we are feeling our strong connection to our beloved Alma Mater” it continues, suggesting that I ought to contribute to the Senior Class Campaign. After four years, I too feel a strong connection to my beloved Alma Mater, but please spare me the request for donations! Five years of tuition ought to be good enough. I’ll think about donating next year.

Hey there,

You may have noticed that things look a bit different here at THE ARCHIVE. Cornell Information Technology has been reorganizing its servers over the past few weeks and the Life on the Hill Blogs have been given a new home at blogs.cornell.edu. As always, this site can be reached through the “student life” tab on the Cornell homepage or a simple Google search. It will take me a few more days to sort out the new interface, but I’ll be blogging in earnest again soon.

Thanks for your support regarding my little infraction against the law. My JA meeting is on Monday and I may or may not have a hearing shortly after that. Any suggestions for interesting community service opportunities in Ithaca would be much appreciated.

Regards,  T

This year, I spent spring break in Miami with two college friends and fraternity brothers. My intention had been to relax for a few days and visit family, but our location along Ocean Drive in South Beach kept us busy around the clock. The standard routine down there involves swimming, beach football, dinner, and clubs. With so many distractions, I wonder how anyone in such a climate can get much done. 

It is fair to describe South Beach as a complete anomaly of human civilization. Groomed beaches host crowds of sun-tanned locals, scantily clad Europeans, and pale college kids. Prop-planes fly overhead every few minutes advertising parties with special celebrity guests and themes. Walking along the street, it is not uncommon to see a Ferrari, Lamborghini, Rolls Royce, and Bentley within a single block.

The spectacle can be entertaining during a brief visit, but I think it runs the risk of making people completely delusional. In a place like South Beach, self worth is a matter of appearances; cars and breasts are the preferred means of expression.

I was shocked by the mannequins that populate the stores of South Beach. Are they serious? The volume of these plastic breasts is greater than that of the entire torso! I suspect that a woman with these dimensions would topple forward or break in half.

Here in Ithaca, women have resumed their proper dimensions and a used car that can drive in snow is enough to impress them. It’s good to be back.

Cornell’s annual Dragon Day festivities started off well this year. The freshman architects built a respectable creature with well-crafted moving parts. After eating breakfast together, the upperclassmen arrived behind Rand Hall in an assortment of hand-made costumes with themes ranging the full spectrum of imagination–Sesame Street, Catholicism, Fantasia, punctuation marks, Milstein Hall, rock/paper/scissors, etc. etc.

This year, my friend and I dressed as flute-playing goat-men. As you can see above, our costumes included furry pants, horns, ears, and some standard faun-accessories (scarf, umbrella, and musical instrument) that have become popular since Mr. Tumnus’ on-screen debut in Narnia. Having been told that my fishing boat and rod posed a threat to the community last year, I intentionally chose a less provocative costume. Fauns are known for being relatively docile animals and if I caused any damage it would likely be to myself.

When the parade arrived on the Arts Quad, the crowd gathered behind two concentric rings of caution tape surrounding the burn-zone. The tradition has always been for architecture students to stand in the chute between these two boundaries and I was surprised when a Police officer warned me to move back. A few minutes later, after the freshmen ran their celebratory circuit between the two lines of tape, I ducked back in to join them. This attracted the attention of another Cornell official who took me by the arm and escorted me away from the crowd.

With unexpected seriousness for someone speaking to a goat-man, the officer asked for my name and date of birth. “Excuse me officer” I replied, “but what is the problem?”

“What is your name?” he insisted.
“What is the issue?” I asked again.
“When were you born?”
“I’m sorry, but what am I in trouble for?”
“What is your name?”
“Why are you arresting me?”

The conversation proceeded like this for several minutes and the officer refused to tell me the offense. My knowledge of the law is idealized and incomplete, but I didn’t think that I needed to share personal information unless (a) I had done something wrong or (b) the officer explained the situation. Apparently I was minsinformed.

In the words of Sonny Curtis, I fought the law and the law won. Several officers gathered around me and I was handcuffed for the first time in my life. This attracted the attention of the Dean of AAP and the Chair of the architecture department, who told the officers that there must be a mistake and explained to the Deputy Chief for about 15 minutes that I’m not a bad kid. More amusing–but much less helpful–were cries for my release from other costumed architecture students, including a full-size deer. In retrospect, it figures that other woodland creatures would come to the defense of an innocent faun.

After the scene on the Arts Quad, I was escorted to the Cornell Police station in Barton hall and handcuffed to a wall for questioning. I’ve never had any infractions against the law but I recognized several of the officers there–I had given them their campus tour when they were new hires.

The questioning was fairly banal and I conducted myself with complete cooperation and respect. The two young officers filled out paperwork and debated which violations they should select on the computer’s scroll-down menu. Apparently they couldn’t find what they wanted, so they marked me down for disorderly conduct and failure to comply. Based on the Dean’s recommendation and my good standing, they decided not to send me to Ithaca court. Instead I will face the JA board after Spring Break and the issue will be dealt with internally.

Besides the shock of being arrested, handcuffed, and questioned in furry goat pants, I am feeling OK about the situation. Arrests on Dragon Day are not uncommon and the JA board has dealt with similar cases. Last year the Cornell Police had the honor of arresting a sperm when he/it tried to impregnate the Phoenix. Sometimes I think they arrest people in costume for their own amusement; in that case, as a public service, I guess my experience was worth it.

Dragon Day might be a little different this year.  Restrictions on dragon-week activities have been ramping up incrementally over the past decade and they have reached a new high this spring. Students are upset, but there is little for us to do but blame the man.

“The man” in this case includes–but is not limited to–the following organizations:  Cornell Environmental Health & Safety, the Cornell Police, Cornell Legal Counsel, Risk Management, the AAP Facilities, University officials, and the State Department of Conservation.  All levels of authority appear to be conspiring to ruin our fun.

To give you a sense of the situation, here is an email that Architecture students received early this week:

George Thorogood came to town Tuesday night to perform alongside the Destroyers at the State theater. It has been an incredibly busy week here in Ithaca, but some good friends and I decided that foregoing work for a weeknight concert would be worth it. After the show (and the two all-nighters that followed) I have no regrets–George never disappoints.

Two summers ago I saw him perform with Buddy Guy at the Red Rocks amphitheater in Colorado. Ever since then, he has been one of my idols and has become the object of my open worship. Music is one thing; then there is his stage presence, work ethic, affinity for bourbon, and life philosophy. All of these qualities demand respect.

A passage on his website says it all:

“George Thorogood has a theory. In any field, especially the arts, there are always two things ‘genius’ and ‘very clever.’ There’s no in-between. You’re either a genius or very clever. I’m going to throw out two names at you. John Lennon genius, right? And Mick Jagger? Very clever. See what I’m saying? I’ll give you another example. Einstein genius. And George Thorogood very clever.” Yet what about the people who think Thorogood is a genius in his own way? OK, I’m a genius at being very clever,” he says with a hearty laugh. Thorogood loves quips almost as much as he loves the blues, so here’s another: Let’s put it this way. Dylan has a Rolls Royce dealership. I have a used Chevy dealership. But I’m in the business. You got it? That’s all I wanted from this thing. A gig, man. And I got a gig.”

His gig attracted an interesting crowd at the State Theater. We made friends with the folks behind us and, together, managed to get our entire section on their feet by the end of the show. Oh, yeah, and GT shook my hand.

Sparks from welding torches in Rand Hall signify new life of an old Cornell tradition.  In less than a week–with the help of sixty first-year architects–the dragon will emerge from hiding, slay the phoenix, and return to its fiery slumber on the Arts Quad.

As upperclassmen, it is no longer our duty to design, build, and parade the dragon. Instead, we focus on constructing our own costumes and preparing D-day breakfasts. Below are some images from past dragon days.

March has begun and excitement for Dragon Day is brewing in Rand Hall. Last month, the freshman architecture students were introduced to the Cornell tradition by upperclassmen in the college who shared their stories and advice. Shortly thereafter, the first-year students gathered together, elected officials, and began planning for the most memorable day of their college careers. 

Dragon Day has been traced back to 1901 when Willard Straight and fellow architecture students paraded through campus in a lizard-type costume. The tradition has evolved over the years to take on different forms and significance within our department and the University at large.

Today, Dragon Day represents the fierce rivalry between hardworking students at either end of East Avenue–in the School of Architecture and the College of Engineering. Each year, on the day before spring break, the Dragon emerges from behind Rand Hall and marches across campus to face-off against the engineer’s Phoenix. As tradition dictates, the dragon wins this duel and continues its triumphant procession back to the arts quad where it meets a fiery end.

Without participating in this event, one might find it difficult to comprehend the strange “ritual acts” that seem to occur. Most people on campus are completely bewildered by the mid-afternoon debauchery and smoke emanating from central campus. Why are students dressed in peculiar compilations of cardboard and fabric? What are they chanting? Are they intoxicated or just strange?

Dragon Day is in the hands of the freshman architects. They design a logo, sell T-shirts, paint a mural, pull pranks, and build the dragon. These activities are certainly a lot of fun, but they also require a great deal of strategy, effort, and teamwork. In this respect, Dragon Day is an opportunity for the freshmen to prove themselves and define their class. In the meantime, upperclassmen focus on their own outfits. Group costumes are common and the only guiding principle is to be clever.

So far, the class of 2013 is doing well. They are currently selling T-shirts to raise money for the dragon. If you are interested in buying one (or several), they are on sale in the school store, online at dragonday.org, and on the second floor of Rand Hall. As we approach D-day on Friday the 13th, I will post more information and pictures. I hope those of you in Ithaca will come out and enjoy the oldest and most absurd of Cornell traditions.