A Letter to the Editor
This is an article in the "Yale Herald" about my room:
Vanderbilt: New digs, old stories
BY ALEKSANDR BIERIG
A freshman in Vanderbilt is like a mule with a spinning wheel—no one knows how he got it, and damned if he knows how to use it. Only a week or so in, the Vanderbilt life has been a radically different experience than the other dorms on Old Campus or Swing Space. We have the strange experience of knowing that no one before us has stayed in these rooms, at least in their current sparkling condition. No one has slept in these beds, put posters on these walls, or hauled couches up these stairs. The new Vanderbilt is a far cry from the one in the stories most of us have heard (and some upperclassmen have experienced) of a dilapidated and disintegrating building.
Of course, with the pleasures of brand new rooms come responsibilities. When the duct tape rips the paint off the walls, we can't blame it on those guys who lived here last year, and when a screen inevitably falls out of the window, there is no question as to whether or not it was there at the beginning of the year. One former occupant of my room came by to tell us of the old conditions: crumbling walls, floors in disrepair, and, pre-renovation regulations being all but nonexistent, several holes in the walls that his roommate had drilled in order to route 1,000 feet of ethernet cable through the room. We now have wood paneling on our common room walls, along with brand new furniture and hardwood floors.
From our stance it is hard to imagine former conditions just a few years ago, yet the residences are more than 100 years old. With so much time comes much history and legend. The building itself was originally built around the turn of the century by Cornelius Vanderbilt in memory of his son William Henry, member of the class of 1893. (Some may find it odd that Cornelius gave the building to the University, as his son died after contracting typhoid fever from one of the University's water pumps.) Included in the Vanderbilts' plan for the dorm was for one suite to stand out among the rest—the famed Vanderbilt Suite, now known as VC21. This second level room over the archway in the center of the building has been historically given to any Vanderbilt heir entering the college. It is noticeably detailed, with dark wood paneling, floorboards with dark and light wood accents, and an attractive lamp hanging from the ceiling. "Joe Afinyanafongs", "Juvey", "Sportscenter" and "ESPN" are the lucky occupants of the room this year, although none of them, to my knowledge, has any connection to the Vanderbilt family.
The story of one former occupant of the suite is especially interesting. When women first entered Yale, Vanderbilt was a generally secluded dorm, and thus was made into the all-women's dorm, protected with a gate that was locked at night. But that year, a Vanderbilt heir was also entering the University, and he sued for the right to stay in his family's beloved suite—and won. Describing himself as the "luckiest man on campus," he went on to marry one of the women he met while staying in Vanderbilt.
This story embodies what might be called "the Vanderbilt experience," which seems to mirror the experience of the college as a whole: tradition and history coexisting with modern times and modern students. We can only hope to create our own history within these walls.
THIS IS MY RESPONSE TO THE LETTER:
A Letter to the Editor:
We are writing to voice our displeasure with the recently published article titled, “Vanderbilt: New digs, old stories.” Though we were excited to see the amount of interest manifested by such a poignantly written article, we were concerned with a few flagrantly erroneous factoids.
First of all, the room number in which we reside is, in fact, VC22. We are disturbed by the error in the article, for those who wish to see the Vanderbilt Suite may, in theory, find themselves misplaced across the hall in the rat infested, cesspool of VC21. We not only fear for the safety of those who find themselves lost, but for the loss we may experience from missing the opportunity to convene with potentially inspiring acquaintances.
Second of all, one of our beloved suitemates’ names was speciously spelled “Joe Aphin-yanaphongs”, when, in actuality, his name is spelled “Joe Afinyanafongs”. Presenting his name in such an invalid condition could become (aside from being a highly indignant misnomer) a potential hazard to his social life and mental health.
Lastly, we came across another malapropism in the quote “none of them, to my knowledge, has any connection to the Vanderbilt family.” While this is a believable assumption due to the nature of our surnames, the real, and seemingly illegitimate, Vanderbilt in this room is Aaron Samuel Bender. It is said that Cornelius Vanderbilt’s father, Chandler Vermillion Vanderbilt, had a brief, but passionate, tryst with his daughter’s chambermaid, Lucinda Veronica Samuel. Hence forth, irrevocably, Aaron was bequeathed with the middle name Samuel in order to commemorate the family name of his long deceased grandmother.
We, and our committee of aldermen, have collectively decided that the best course of action to repair this conglomeration of inaccurate and untrue particulars is to republish the entire article, including this letter of disdain, with all aforementioned concerns completely repaired.
It should also be mentioned that the newest member of the esteemed Vanderbilt Suite is none other than Spider Man himself, who dangles gracefully from the archway of our lovely estate to maintain order and stability over all of Old Campus. Nota Bene: one must be aware that this is, in authenticity, the real Spider Man, and none of that Toby McGuire BS.
Thank you very much for your time and we are excited to see the republished corrections in the next edition of The Yale Herald.
With love,
Aaron Samuel Bender
Russell “Ace” Kempf
William Shawn-Patrick Gurman
Joseph Phoniphithyanapruya Afinyanafongs III
Vanderbilt: New digs, old stories
BY ALEKSANDR BIERIG
A freshman in Vanderbilt is like a mule with a spinning wheel—no one knows how he got it, and damned if he knows how to use it. Only a week or so in, the Vanderbilt life has been a radically different experience than the other dorms on Old Campus or Swing Space. We have the strange experience of knowing that no one before us has stayed in these rooms, at least in their current sparkling condition. No one has slept in these beds, put posters on these walls, or hauled couches up these stairs. The new Vanderbilt is a far cry from the one in the stories most of us have heard (and some upperclassmen have experienced) of a dilapidated and disintegrating building.
Of course, with the pleasures of brand new rooms come responsibilities. When the duct tape rips the paint off the walls, we can't blame it on those guys who lived here last year, and when a screen inevitably falls out of the window, there is no question as to whether or not it was there at the beginning of the year. One former occupant of my room came by to tell us of the old conditions: crumbling walls, floors in disrepair, and, pre-renovation regulations being all but nonexistent, several holes in the walls that his roommate had drilled in order to route 1,000 feet of ethernet cable through the room. We now have wood paneling on our common room walls, along with brand new furniture and hardwood floors.
From our stance it is hard to imagine former conditions just a few years ago, yet the residences are more than 100 years old. With so much time comes much history and legend. The building itself was originally built around the turn of the century by Cornelius Vanderbilt in memory of his son William Henry, member of the class of 1893. (Some may find it odd that Cornelius gave the building to the University, as his son died after contracting typhoid fever from one of the University's water pumps.) Included in the Vanderbilts' plan for the dorm was for one suite to stand out among the rest—the famed Vanderbilt Suite, now known as VC21. This second level room over the archway in the center of the building has been historically given to any Vanderbilt heir entering the college. It is noticeably detailed, with dark wood paneling, floorboards with dark and light wood accents, and an attractive lamp hanging from the ceiling. "Joe Afinyanafongs", "Juvey", "Sportscenter" and "ESPN" are the lucky occupants of the room this year, although none of them, to my knowledge, has any connection to the Vanderbilt family.
The story of one former occupant of the suite is especially interesting. When women first entered Yale, Vanderbilt was a generally secluded dorm, and thus was made into the all-women's dorm, protected with a gate that was locked at night. But that year, a Vanderbilt heir was also entering the University, and he sued for the right to stay in his family's beloved suite—and won. Describing himself as the "luckiest man on campus," he went on to marry one of the women he met while staying in Vanderbilt.
This story embodies what might be called "the Vanderbilt experience," which seems to mirror the experience of the college as a whole: tradition and history coexisting with modern times and modern students. We can only hope to create our own history within these walls.
THIS IS MY RESPONSE TO THE LETTER:
A Letter to the Editor:
We are writing to voice our displeasure with the recently published article titled, “Vanderbilt: New digs, old stories.” Though we were excited to see the amount of interest manifested by such a poignantly written article, we were concerned with a few flagrantly erroneous factoids.
First of all, the room number in which we reside is, in fact, VC22. We are disturbed by the error in the article, for those who wish to see the Vanderbilt Suite may, in theory, find themselves misplaced across the hall in the rat infested, cesspool of VC21. We not only fear for the safety of those who find themselves lost, but for the loss we may experience from missing the opportunity to convene with potentially inspiring acquaintances.
Second of all, one of our beloved suitemates’ names was speciously spelled “Joe Aphin-yanaphongs”, when, in actuality, his name is spelled “Joe Afinyanafongs”. Presenting his name in such an invalid condition could become (aside from being a highly indignant misnomer) a potential hazard to his social life and mental health.
Lastly, we came across another malapropism in the quote “none of them, to my knowledge, has any connection to the Vanderbilt family.” While this is a believable assumption due to the nature of our surnames, the real, and seemingly illegitimate, Vanderbilt in this room is Aaron Samuel Bender. It is said that Cornelius Vanderbilt’s father, Chandler Vermillion Vanderbilt, had a brief, but passionate, tryst with his daughter’s chambermaid, Lucinda Veronica Samuel. Hence forth, irrevocably, Aaron was bequeathed with the middle name Samuel in order to commemorate the family name of his long deceased grandmother.
We, and our committee of aldermen, have collectively decided that the best course of action to repair this conglomeration of inaccurate and untrue particulars is to republish the entire article, including this letter of disdain, with all aforementioned concerns completely repaired.
It should also be mentioned that the newest member of the esteemed Vanderbilt Suite is none other than Spider Man himself, who dangles gracefully from the archway of our lovely estate to maintain order and stability over all of Old Campus. Nota Bene: one must be aware that this is, in authenticity, the real Spider Man, and none of that Toby McGuire BS.
Thank you very much for your time and we are excited to see the republished corrections in the next edition of The Yale Herald.
With love,
Aaron Samuel Bender
Russell “Ace” Kempf
William Shawn-Patrick Gurman
Joseph Phoniphithyanapruya Afinyanafongs III
posted by Joe @ 12:39 AM
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