A review of Dartmouth's diverse architecture

Upon seeing a school for the first time, the first thing a prospective student notices is the architecture. For many, it is intimidating. Even if one went to a Tony Prep School, the Ancient Eight’s architecture is in a league of its own (pardon the pun). But with increasing familiarity comes increasing apathy. Three days after moving in, the mystique is gone, and it is easy to take things for granted. Every once in a while, though, it is nice to step back and reflect on one’s surroundings. Some of our alma mater’s architecture is awesome, and some of it sucks.

Thayer sucks - not the much beloved cafeteria, maker of scrumptious chicken parm’ subs and grilled focaccia sandwiches, but the engineering school, the engineering school that U.S. News and World Report ranks 43rd in the nation. The problem isn’t simply that it’s an embarrassment to the Dartmouth name—an engineering school that embarrasses the greater university is not unusual (Yale, which according to U. S. News has the best law school and the 3rd best undergraduate college, has the 39th best engineering school). But to add insult to injury, Thayer is just such a friggin’ eyesore.

When President Eisenhower declared that Dartmouth looks the way a college should, he was not talking about Thayer. The Thayer library, Feldberg, looks like a neglected community college designed by an autistic architect. The ceilings are low. The fluorescent lights give everything a piss-yellow glow. The walls near the stairs meet at 30 degree angles, for godssake! The computer monitors look like they’re from the early 90s, and not even in Haiti could one find cheaper, uglier furniture.

Cummings Hall is a bit nicer, but criminally plain. It kind of looks like the insides of an IHOP. And what were they thinking with all the oak! Oak railings, oak staircases, oak display cases, ad nauseam. I guess the architect didn’t realize that oak looks cheap.

The best campus architecture comes in two flavors, Rococo or Edwardian. In some rooms, one could imagine Thomas Jefferson flirting with French ambassadors’ wives therein (see the Baker foyer). In others, one could expect to see Andrew Mellon and J. P. Morgan discussing shares of Carnegie steel over cigars and brandy (see the Sanborn library).

Dartmouth has a few architectural gems, such as Wentworth, Carpenter, Sanborn, Rauner, Parkhurst, and Whittemore. These, the nicest spots on campus, share many features in common. The rooms are high and deep, but relatively narrow, giving one the sense that they extend forever. The woods are dark, the stone is grey; there are chandeliers, wrought iron, and portraits of obscure alumni and long-dead faculty. The most important thing, however, is the carving, as seen in chairs, moldings, staircases, etc. Carpenter Library has an exquisitely carved 16th century fireplace which people don’t take the time to notice.

The crown jewel of Dartmouth architecture is Baker. Baker’s foyer is at once simple and complex; it’s all black on off-white, but the small details, the checkerboard marble floors, the two leather “thrones” on the far end, the detailed moldings, and the very bright, but elegant overhanging lights create the sense of mental and physical illumination. The 1902 and 1913 rooms are less stately, but dignified in their simplicity. The 1913 room, with its slate floors, and pale blue-green colors recalls the dawn of New England education, cold and severe. The icing on the cake is the Tower Room. Sir Joshua Reynold’s portrait of the Earl of Dartmouth is enough to justify a visit. Paneled in dark wood, it provides sweeping views of the campus, and has the distinction of being the only room with velvet chairs.

Dartmouth has a lot of good architecture, but no great architecture. This is not a problem per se. Great architecture, like a kick in the balls, first stuns and then consumes your consciousness. But a campus is not a museum or a tourist attraction; it is a home, and it must not be serious to the point of sterility. Dartmouth’s architecture is as serious as it could be without sacrificing comfort. People don’t fall asleep in Chartres, the Sistine Chapel, the Pyramids, but they do on the couches in Sanborn and Baker. Comfort is the most important thing on a campus or in a home, and Dartmouth obviously passes the test.