Walter Netsch, whose contributions to the shape of Northwestern have been matched in scale and scope by perhaps only a handful of other men, died last summer. It being summertime, few students took notice. Had they, any commemoration of the passing of the man who gave us Norris, University Library, the Rebecca Crown center and a handful of other buildings would likely have been more celebratory than mournful.
There are, I submit, at least three traditions which unite NU students regardless of their race, class, major or interests: embracing our love/hate relationship with Burger King, tolerating Dance Marathon and hating Walter Netsch’s architecture. While I’m perfectly sympathetic to greasy food and philanthropy, students’ disrespect for Netsch only highlights their insecurity about the university itself.
Take the Rebecca Crown Center. Picture Netsch, grown tired of hearing that his brutalist concrete-and-limestone creations were “ruining the Gothic atmosphere of the campus,” coyly turning the table – ‘Gothic, you say? I will build you a Gothic fortress alright, balustrade, watchtower, parapets, and all.’ The center encapsulates everything about Gothic architecture except the parts that people like. In doing so, it mocks the silliness of college administrators and would-be critics who demand that universities continue to be built the same way they were five hundred years ago.
But Netsch’s principle achievement with Crown is not its sly sarcasm, but its slightness and grace. I venture to guess that not too few of you would be astounded to learn that the plaza you’ve been strolling across on your way home from downtown Evanston is actually a roof. That’s right, a roof – beneath which is a floor of office space, and below that, a parking garage.
But it’s also more than a roof, and more than just a plaza. Without ever proclaiming itself as such, Netsch’s Crown functions perfectly as Evanston’s gateway into NU’s western addition. Consider the contrast with that other gateway, our much-beloved Arch, proclaiming loudly through stonework and wrought-iron curls, “We’re prestigious,” begging passersby to stop and stand in awe. With understated stonework matched by exquisite framing of the view down Orrington Ave., Crown avoids so much insecurity while maintaining a compelling case for the university’s grandeur.
Much the same can be said of the University Library – another impressive yet oft-maligned Netsch building – and the contrast it takes with its own counterpart, Deering. Like the Arch, Deering remains, in all its faux-historic glory, a symbol of pride, history and elitism. Here too, students love to showcase it as a symbol of the university’s greatness. By night, its western face basks in the warm glow of floodlights, showcasing its carved limestone facade to Sheridan commuters, announcing to the hoi polloi the existence here of some historic, proud and accomplished institution.
In contrast, the main library sulks in darkness, casting what light it has out into the night. It embodies the true characteristics of the university; there is no predetermination of rightness or greatness. The library is instead a place in which knowledge is built up and sent forth to fend for itself, illuminating the world.
SESP senior Jake Wertz can be reached at [email protected].