Landlord Lawsuit Questions College
Ice Plague Cometh
While the College is on the horizon of what may become a very drawn-out lawsuit brought to fruition by Oberlin landlords, perhaps it needs to reconsider its own position before pleaing its defense.
Old Barrows and Allencroft (Russia House), the two questionable dorms discussed in the lawsuit that technically violate basic rooming house codes, share prime safety hazards that raised concern with town housing two years ago. Back then, regulations for landlord-owned student houses were seriously re-evaluated after two separate non-fatal fire emergencies raised the eyebrows of concerned parents at home, not to mention student residents.
Now, the argument has escalated from technicalities to truths: while the College is accusatory of landlords who cut corners with the Ohio Board of Building Standards, it is the College who refuses to admit that the aforementioned dorms fall under classifications with just as rigorous safety requirements, and should be attended to with equal concern. Numerically speaking, both Allencroft and Old Barrows qualify as rooming houses, therefor requiring the dorms to meet the rooming house ordinance installed in 1968. Were the college ever to be exposed in a fair investigation, it would be found that only four students would legally be allowed to live in the dorms. Both dorms currently house around two dozen students each.
If matters progress with the lawsuit, what would happen to these students if the decade-old codes were enforced? The College could always opt for moving the dislocated students into dormitory lounges, as they did with the over-enrolled incoming first-years last Fall. While this is not an illegal solution, it certainly inconveniences students, and should not be necessary. No students should have to face potential housing shortage problems, especially when they are due to poor decision making on the College's part to over-ride a 30 year-old code.
The smattering of posters announcing the return of Oberlin's own club hockey team, the Plague, calls to mind one of the most astounding examples of dormant school-spirit. The Plague somehow cultivated a significant cult following with hoards of weekend warrior Obies crowded around the glass and sideboards at Williams Ice Rink cheering on their fellow students with streams of profanity. How exactly did the Plague develop such a Notre Dame-like following at a school where school spirit is defunct? What do these fanatical displays say about Oberlin?
Many varsity and club teams have equal if not greater fan bases than the Plague, but there are major differences about their actual games that place the Plague in a league of their own. The intimate setting of Williams Ice Rink allows fans to watch the Plague at close-range, placing the action so close the fans can rock the boards harder than most of the skaters. In addition, such a closed in space compared to Philips Gymnasium contributes to the raucous atmosphere. The time of the games also makes a difference. Most of the Plague's games start late in the evening, around 9 or 10 p.m. Consequently, you see more of an inebriated crowd at 10 p.m. on a Saturday than you would see at 7 p.m. on a Tuesday. The intoxicated crowds obviously act different than a sober crowd. This leads to wonderful tirades of expletives damning the visiting team, questioning whether or not the outnumbered guests will make it out of the parking lot. Fans have even climbed the boards and made efforts at joining the action.
It seems strange that Oberlin could spawn such an atmosphere - that students would express such solidarity at a campus gathering, and a sporting event no less. Plague games take on even greater meaning when you consider Oberlin's current retention problem. When President Nancy Dye first publicly addressed the retention problem last year she explained that Oberlin lacks the powerhouse athletic program that inspires so many other college campuses and fosters school spirit. Any attendant to a Plague game would attest that school spirit exists at Oberlin in a potent and sometimes fierce form.
Where should Oberlin go from here? Should the College pour untold sums of money into a varsity hockey program? Obviously not. But the College should look to build on successful student groups like the Plague that nurture a legitimate sense of school pride.
Copyright © 2000, The Oberlin Review.
Volume 128, Number 14, February 18, 2000
Contact us with your comments and suggestions.