Don’t ever say that Evanston is afraid to tackle the tough issues. While you were sunning yourself in Cancun, Evanston residents took to the streets and voted on a non-binding resolution calling on Northwestern to contribute its “fair share.” Now, a non-binding resolution is kind of like an airplane meal: There’s a menu, and some rudimentary choice exists — fish, chicken or vegetarian — but there’s no guarantee you’ll get what you ask for, and it’s all going to taste bad. But nevertheless, prepared to blast past the clever double-speak of administrators such as Eugene Sunshine — who called Evanston residents “very intelligent” — primary voters cast ballots demanding their “fair share” of NU assets, including but not limited to SPAC membership, a 13-meal a week meal plan and listserv privileges.

This debate has been going on for quite some time. Just what does NU owe Evanston? That’s the real question, and Dave Ellis, chairman of the delightfully cleverly named Fair Share Action Committee, has brilliantly framed it in these terms: “At what point does the charter become not relevant to what’s going on in the year 2000?” NU’s charter was written in 1851, and a lot has happened since then. To aid your understanding of this crucial debate, I will present some of the changes that NU and Evanston have experienced in the past 150 years.

In 1851, NU was a tiny Methodist university north of the Midwest’s cattle-slaughtering capital of Chicago, struggling to attract a student body, wrestling with its academic focus — embarking on Campaign Seven Dollars and Three Buffalo Nickels. In 1851, Evanston didn’t exist. The town was built from the ground up. Price of building vacant business space: immeasurable. NU’s contribution: nil. Evanston 1 ­ NU 0.

Until very recently, Evanston was forced to clean the streets and sidewalks of downtown with “brooms” and “humans.” Inefficient and demoralizing for Evanston residents employed in this demeaning work, the job in the 21st century is being performed by a fleet of state-of-the-art robots designed to cleanse city sidewalks. Nicknamed “Artie” after gregarious Alderman Art Newman (1st), they suffer from one shortcoming. They can’t pick up gum, but do a good job of removing most other “undesirables” — NU students. Price of robots: upwards of 17 grand apiece. NU’s contribution: not even so much as a breakdance class that teaches The Robot. Evanston 2 ­ NU 0.

In the 1890s, student’s horses left on the street after 2 a.m. were shot and removed. Cost of a bullet in 1890: seven cents. Profit from glue: 12 cents. In the year 2000, student’s cars left on the street after 2 a.m. must be towed and stored. Cost of tow truck: 30 grand. No more glue profits. NU’s contribution: nil. Evanston 3 ­ NU 0.

It should be pretty clear by now. NU has repeatedly and consistently screwed Evanston over. Administrators desperately point to benefits brought to Evanston by NU’s status as a “world-class” university, millions paid in fees and worthwhile contributions by students to Evanston businesses. Dave Ellis knows better, and now you do too. But I’m not saying anything new, just the same things that need to be said, again and again, with fierce conviction. Dave Ellis is Evanston’s Superman. Let’s join his Evanston Justice League!