From a hip-bumping, bass-thumping dance club in the Willard Residential College common room to hell on the third floor, Willard residents and party-goers from around campus and beyond filled the dorm with bizarre decorations and even more bizarre antics during the annual Frances Willard Party.
Some students spent the evening vomiting in restrooms, while others chased after fellow party-goers shouting things such as, “He stole my big black dildo.”
And toward the end of the evening, a drunk cowboy swerved down a hallway, tripping over his boots and yelling “Yee-haw” into the empty halls of Willard.
The annual Willard party, held to mock temperance advocate Frances Willard on her birthday, historically has been one of Northwestern’s biggest undergraduate bashes.
In the 1980s, it was rumored that Playboy magazine named it one of the nation’s top 10 college parties, although a magazine representative said last week that the rumors were false.
Although many non-Willard residents attend the party for the free alcohol and chance to socialize, Willard students spend hours preparing for the party, as each floor competes in a decorating contest.
The fourth floor, which has won the past three competitions, was decorated as Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.
The third floor’s theme was Monty Python and the first floor’s decorations illustrated the life cycle. The second, fifth and part of the third floor all incorporated hell into their themes.
The “Lost Horizons” section of the third floor won the competition by turning their hall into hell. The 12 men living in the section covered the walls with black garbage bags and red butcher paper and covered the lights with cellophane.
Speech sophomore Brian Librot, a third-floor resident, said the Grim Reaper met people at the entrance of the section and led them on a tour of the six rooms, each of which hosted a different skit.
“In one room Gen. Robert E. Lee was screwing Abraham Lincoln in the ass, shouting ‘The South will rise again,'” Librot said.
Librot said the Lost Horizons section broke off from the rest of the third floor to promote the rebellious nature of the Frances Willard party.
“It was a little defiant with a touch of crazy,” Librot said. “It worked out well.”
After Willard residents spent the day preparing, the party got off to a slow start. Doors opened at 8 p.m. and at 9 the halls were still empty and quiet, causing early birds to wonder what all the fuss was about.
But by 9:30 the party was in full swing. One student ambled through the halls announcing his sobriety to his peers as he staggered into a wall.
Within the hour, students’ hands were full of plastic cups filled to the brim with pink, red, yellow and caramel-colored beverages. Party-goers clogged the hallways gathering in clusters outside of dorm rooms, hoping to gain admittance to the private parties taking place within.
In one room, students casually drank cold beer and warm punch.
In another room down the hall, students crammed into a packed dance party beneath a disco ball and a black light while students across the hall queued up to place their orders at a makeshift bar.
“I love the party. I can’t imagine why people wouldn’t want to be here,” said Alex Goldman, a Speech freshman and Willard resident. “This is the chance to get to know people, have fun and be whoever you want to be.”
A disc jockey turned Willard’s common room into a discotheque. So many people stuffed onto the dance floor that there was little room for movement. Sweat flowed as freely as the alcohol had an hour earlier as almost everyone at the party moved into the confines of a few small rooms.
“It’s crazy, I love it,” said Cathy Lopes, a freshman at Loyola University. “It’s tons of fun; tons of people are dancing.”
The heat and crowd caused some students to leave early, but they had to fight their way out through a growing crowd of people trying to get in.
“It may not have been in Playboy magazine, but it’s still a great place to meet people,” said Jason Warren, a Speech sophomore.
