Architechural identity crisis

Almost every undergraduate student has had a class in Meyerson Hall. We've all packed into Room B1, the school's largest lecture hall. We've all entered through the building's heavy doors, gone down that bleak, off-white stairway and entered the hot, windowless dungeon.

Meyerson Hall is an ugly building. The 1967 relic -- described as "horrible" and a "real challenge" by Bill Whitaker of the University's architectural archives -- is an eyesore in the heart of Penn's campus. It's even more embarrassing when you realize that it houses Penn's renowned architecture program.

But alas, Meyerson is just one of many unpleasant buildings that line Locust Walk. There's also Stiteler Hall, the Solomon Psychology Laboratories, the Caster Building, the Graduate School of Education and the McNeil Building. Van Pelt Library is also no gem.

At a school as historic as Penn, it sure seems like we have a disproportionate number of ugly buildings on our campus from the mid-20th century -- a real low point in American architecture.

There's a reasonable explanation for why our school has so many of these types of buildings. Prior to the 1950s, Penn lacked much of an endowment. Instead, it relied primarily on the finances of the then-booming Philadelphia industrial complex. When the School of Engineering needed money to finance a building, for example, it turned to the powerful railroad industry.

But as local industry steadily declined after World War II, the University had to look elsewhere for funds. Penn turned to Harrisburg. "The result was devastating," says George Thomas, author of Building America's First University: An Historical and Architectural Guide to the University of Pennsylvania.

The state had almost total control over the building process -- from design to construction. It sold out to the lowest bidders, giving the University more than its fair share of concrete and brick structures. Most of the architects for these projects had little creativity and a lot of political connections. It's no surprise that the firm that built Stiteler, Solomon, Caster, the Education School and Van Pelt was also awarded with designing Philadelphia's Peco Energy Building. You know, the one with the gaudy electronic ticker across the top.

While Penn has since built up its endowment, it still faces an architectural crisis -- an identity crisis. The University cannot decide whether it wants its campus to be exclusively old and historic or a distinct mix of modern and historic. As Thomas puts it, Penn is "caught between a theme park-like Disney ... and a reflection of the wider variety of the Universe."

I think the University should pursue the latter. Penn already has its historic buildings, and even these structures are architecturally distinct. College Hall looks quite different from the Fine Arts Library, and that's totally fine. The diversity reflects the heterogeneity of an urban environment.

But it seems as if Penn is afraid to fully embrace such architectural diversity. Huntsman Hall, for example, tries to be both modern and traditional -- failing at both. It has modern curves and angles, but the endless red bricks make the building look completely out of scale. It towers over the rest of campus.

Penn should not pull back the reins anymore. It should embrace new and innovative designs, the type that made superstar architects Frank Gehry and Rem Koolhaas famous. Their buildings at schools like MIT and Case Western Reserve University have turned college campuses into tourist attractions. Penn should seek to make its campus a walking architectural history lesson. You should be able to see breathtaking designs that span several centuries.

It might be wise for Penn to establish some sort of architectural panel that has final approval authority over every building on campus. The panel would not seek to establish a uniform style on campus; rather it would make sure that buildings are architecturally significant. The panel could also recommend changes to existing buildings that are not aesthetically pleasing.

The panel would work closely with University administration and donors, preaching the importance of design. While many architects have praised Engineering Dean Eduardo Glandt for his attention to design in his newest buildings, they have criticized many more Penn administrators for their lack of attention to style.

The panel should start by examining the Stiteler Quadrangle. Designed before Locust Walk was closed to traffic, the plaza was intended to be a center of social life on campus -- similar to the life of the Italian piazza. Now it is nothing more than a "windswept plateau," as Whitaker put it.

Penn should address this and other campus eyesores. Perhaps it can hold a design competition --as it did several years ago for Superblock -- and actually follow through with the winning plans this time. Perhaps the University could look outside of Philadelphia for architects. As Thomas noted, "Philadelphia is no longer a generating city of culture. We are not producing the great architects of the world."

In the past decade, Penn has re-established its identity in so many ways. It's time for the school to make a commitment to establishing its own architectural identity.

David Burrick is a junior urban studies major from Short Hills, N.J., and executive editor of The Daily Pennsylvanian. Camp David appears on alternate Thursdays.

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