Sometimes, when driving up N. Charles St. and passing the ever-expanding Johns Hopkins University, I take a peek at the back end of the dormitory building where I spent my freshman year of 1973-74. The tiny, cinder-block room a roommate and I shared, Griffin House #103, was in the Alumni Memorial Residence II, and through the two back windows (always unlocked) you could see the athletic field where the perennially-competitive Blue Jays lacrosse team played to packed bleachers. Also in AMR II was the mail room, where students could pick up letters, mostly hand-written, and a large “snack bar” that was a place you could buy cheap burgers, tap soda and fries. (My most enduring memory from this spot was the cashier, a pleasant girl in the work-study program who belted out, threw her head back, no inhibitions, her harmony with Billy Joel’s horrific “Piano Man” from a loud radio. I can’t erase it.)
The dorms were on the Upper Quad of the Hopkins campus—solely for first-year students—and that’s where a lot of the action was, with, in temperate weather, impromptu keg parties, concerts, touch football games and lots of longhairs hanging out on the benches, reading the daily paper or nattering on about H.R. Haldeman, Stevie Wonder’s new LP or a dealer selling far-out acid for $1.50 a tab. The lodgings blew—communal bathrooms and showers on the second floor of each dorm house (where one pool fellow was seen jerking off, which he didn’t live down for a year) one pay phone and an unkempt laundry facility in the basement—but none of my friends complained much, although we were happy that University told us to scram for sophomore year and find apartments off campus.
Unlike this century, there were no security measures, no facial recognition or electronic key cards needed to get past a fence, and when visitors from other schools landed on campus, they crashed on the floor of a friend’s room, no questions asked. It was loose: in April of ’73 my Long Island pal Howie Nadjari and I, just accepted for the fall, went to Baltimore, quickly met and partied with several guys, one of whom let us sleep in his Royce Hall room.
I bring this up because of an article I read in the Hopkins News-Letter (where I was an editor in the mid-1970s) about the planned demolition and reconstruction of the older AMR I, where the freshman dining hall is located and the rooms, even in my day, were creakier than AMR II. The mini-complex, built in 1923, has, according to the N-L, all sorts of infrastructure hazards, so it makes sense. There was a funny (to me, a long-ago graduate) quote from Robinson Bui, an AMR I resident, who emailed reporter Naomi Mao: “I think it’s a great idea to replace this decrepit building. The fire alarms need fixing and I’m pretty sure there’s mold growing and water damage to the ceilings.”
Mold and water damage! I’d be pissed too, especially when tuition for undergraduates at JHU is nearly $65,000 annually ($2700 my freshman year), although it’s a Hopkins tradition, and probably intentional, to let students fend for themselves in spartan conditions. It’s not as if the professors give a shit (and have no reason to), although one might think the administration would.
The accompanying picture, in front of Griffin House, is college friend Joe Griffith (one of the few ROTC students among 2000 undergraduates; that number has leapt 5300 today) and me horsing around on a bench, hamming it up for the photographer.
Take a look at the clues to figure out the year: Dublin and Monaghan bombings leave 33 dead; the Ladies’ Gaelic Football Association founded in Thuries; the first Kilkenny Arts Festival opens; the first Michelin Guide to cover Ireland is published; Larry Csonka is Super Bowl MVP; Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford inducted into MLB Hall of Fame; English Prince wins the Irish Derby Stakes; Happy Days debuts on ABC; People magazine publishes first issue; Ahmet Zappa is born and Tex Ritter dies; The Taking of Pelham One Two Three and Zandy's Bride are released; The Sting wins seven Oscars; Roald Dahl’s Switch Bitch and Joseph Heller’s Something Happened are published; The Bottom Line opens in NYC, with Dr. John the first performer; and, regrettably, Mick Taylor leaves the Rolling Stones.
—Follow Russ Smith on Twitter: @MUGGER2023