Charles Johnson '54 is the first to admit he wasn't the greatest football player Yale has ever seen. But he still remembers the exhilaration he felt when he charged onto the gridiron to play guard for the Bulldogs.
"It's not as imposing from the outside as it is from the inside," he says. "It was a great thrill to be in the Bowl as a player."
That's why, when Johnson heard there was an effort under way to raise money to refurbish the deteriorating 90-year-old stadium, he was happy to help. In June, Johnson pledged $5 million for the project, which was matched dollar for dollar through a fund set up by his graduating class as part of its record $120 million reunion gift. When the work is completed, the Bowl's playing field will be christened the Class of 1954 Field.
Johnson and his class more than doubled the $8 million that already had been raised for the project, which is expected to cost around $27 million overall. The fund-raising effort is being spearheaded by former Yale football coach Carm Cozza, who spent 34 years at the Bowl. "When I first got here, it was a magnificent facility," Cozza recalls, "but as the years progressed, you could see more and more deterioration. The concrete was peeling off. The seats were constantly having to be replaced, and the press box actually burned down." Cozza, who retired as coach in 1996, has spent the last five years soliciting donations from former players and from other friends of Yale football.
Much of the project involves repairing and restoring the Bowl's crumbling concrete walls and portals, iron gates, and seating. Also, the press box, corporate skyboxes, and scoreboard will be replaced, a new ornamental fence will surround the Bowl's entire block, and a "Bulldog Plaza" -- featuring the names of every Yale football player since 1872 -- will provide a grand entrance from Central Avenue, where most people now enter the stadium.
Except for the new fence, which should be in place for the home opener against Colgate on October 2, work on the Bowl probably won't start until the end of the upcoming season. The university has not yet hired an architect or determined the final price tag and construction schedule. Director of athletics Thomas Beckett says he doesn't anticipate any interruption in the football program while the work is being done.
When the Bowl was built in 1914 to the design of Charles A. Ferry, Class of 1871, its enclosed ellipse was a first among modern stadiums, though it was modeled on the ancient Roman amphitheater at Pompeii. It cost $750,000 to build and served as a model for other stadiums, including the Rose Bowl. The 64,000-seat structure has hosted hundreds of collegiate football games, two seasons of National Football League action (when the New York Giants were between stadiums), and the 1995 Special Olympics World Games. It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, but for football fans, the main appeal is that every seat offers an unobstructed view of the field.
Beckett sees the benefits of the upcoming renovations as extending beyond the football program to the New Haven community, since the Bowl and the football team are highly visible parts of Yale: "The Bowl connects people to the university in a way we want everybody to be proud of."
Just another night on the bison-tongue circuit
To make the mixed drink known as a "hailstorm," put bourbon, a sweet syrup, a sprig of mint, and crushed ice in a mason jar and shake vigorously. After two or three of these, the Calhoun College dining hall might pass for a frontier mess hall, which was more or less the goal on June 10 when the Howard R. Lamar Center for the Study of Frontiers and Borders put on its Great Buffalo Roast, a fund-raiser that promised "an evening of frontier food and frolic" for $125 a plate.
The guests, who included supporters of the Beinecke Library and members of the New Haven Lawn Club, responded with varying degrees of boldness to the invitation's call for "festive attire." Some settled for just a smidgen of denim, but others fished cowboy hats, shirts with fancy stitching, and turquoise necklaces out of their closets. Harry Welch '50, former president of Yale-New Haven Medical Center, Inc., completed his convincing hat-boots-and-duster ensemble with a lariat. And sporting a bolo tie he admitted he hadn't worn in five years was Western historian and former Yale president Howard Lamar '51PhD, for whom the Lamar Center was named.
Over cocktails, Lamar Center associate director Jay Gitlin '71 explained what the dinner was all about. "There's a lot of fellowship money available to graduate students for international research, but it's hard to get funding for domestic research," he said. The dinner, the first such fund-raising event for the four-year-old center, was to support research by Yale graduate students in Western and frontier history.
Meanwhile, Sam Arnold '47 watched the room as waiters passed around trays of bison tongue (on toast with capers) and Rocky Mountain oysters (fried and served with cocktail sauce, and tasting like chicken if you tried not to think about it). The youthful-looking Arnold ("I have Ronald Reagan's barber," he explained), who was responsible for the evening's cuisine, owns a restaurant outside Denver called The Fort, a replica of a nineteenth-century adobe fort and trading post called Bent's Fort that was frequented by Kit Carson and other mountain men of the day. Arnold, a native of Pittsburgh and former advertising executive, built the fort with his wife in 1962 as a home. Then they opened the restaurant on the first floor, to pay for it. "It cost more than I imagined," he said.
Since then, Arnold has himself become a scholar of pioneer life on the Santa Fe Trail, particularly its culinary aspects. Over dinner, as videotaped scenes of him making beef jerky were projected on the side of a covered wagon, Arnold talked the guests through the menu: a chicken-and-garbanzo bean soup that Kit Carson's wife used to make, thick slabs of roasted prime rib of buffalo, and a rice pudding dessert from Arnold's book Eating Up the Santa Fe Trail. He also taught the crowd his "mountain-man toast" (and helpfully annotated it): "Here's to the child [mountain men] what's come afore, and here's to the pilgrims [settlers] what's come arter. May yer trails be free of grizz[lies], yer packs filled with plews [beaver pelts], and fat Buffler in yer pot! Wah! [Lakota Sioux, Arnold claims, for "Right on!"]" Although the crowd looked to be more accustomed to chicken cordon bleu and gin-and-tonics, the "Wah"s were surprisingly hearty.
Two setbacks in the last year and a half have left the graduate-student unionization movement at Yale on fragile footing. The Graduate Employees and Students Organization on campus took its first hit in a nonbinding referendum in April 2003, when students voted against its push for union representation. Now the group has to contend with a federal decision that limits the power of labor at all private universities.
In a case involving graduate students at Brown University, the National Labor Relations Board ruled in July that teaching assistants are primarily students, not employees, and do not have the right to bargain collectively. The 3-2 decision was a reversal of one the board made just four years ago, when it said that students at New York University did have the right to organize. All three members of the majority in the Brown case were appointed by the Bush administration.
Critics of GESO predicted the decision would hobble the group's ability to recruit members, but chair Mary Reynolds insists it is not the coup de grace. She asserts that the ruling was politically motivated and out of touch with the realities of graduate life. GESO, she says, will still press Yale to recognize a graduate students' union voluntarily.
But the Yale administration has steadfastly opposed unionization, which it says could drive a wedge between graduate students and their professors and throw a bureaucratic straitjacket over graduate programs it says should be adaptable to each student's needs. Provost Susan Hockfield applauded the labor panel's decision for reestablishing a 25-year-old precedent that had been upended by the NYU verdict.
"Decisions about education need to rest in the hands of the academy," says Hockfield, the former dean of the graduate school. "It would be unfortunate if the educational activities of a university were open to intrusion by non-educational bodies."
Hockfield argues that, because Yale jockeys with other top universities for the best graduate students, it must offer a competitive financial aid package with or without a union. But even some student critics of GESO venture that the threat of unionization has kept the university honest.
"The administration has often claimed that it wasn't GESO's presence that prodded them to raise stipends and address health care and visa issues. I found this position a bit disingenuous," said Matthew Robb of At What Cost?, a group critical of GESO's tactics. "But Yale wants to be competitive with other grad schools, so some of these issues are not going to go away, GESO or no GESO."
Matt Glassman, another GESO critic, said the labor board's decision stripped the union movement at Yale of any real firepower. However, he predicted that GESO -- which has survived for more than a decade -- would maintain a stubborn presence as a campus watchdog.
"They're still going to kick and scream at the university, but they're never going to have the possibility of inflicting the bureaucratic nonsense that would come with a real union," said Glassman, a leader of a loosely organized opposition group called GASO. "It's great for the average graduate student." ![]()
