COLUMN: Clubhouse Rules, Reprise

From Mark Tonsetic's "Letters From Patusan", Fall '95 Their crime? Unaccustomed to alumni social mores, they dared ask for a tour without the requisite coat and tie. They had thought they might find some bit of refuge on West 44th Street, but the Penn Club wasn't a home away from home. That oh-so-tony hunk of granite and mahogany wasn't Penn in spirit or personality, and didn't deserve the name. It might have passed for a wish-I-were-Harvard fantasy, perhaps, but not a true Penn Club. Penn would never be so rude to its progeny on Thanksgiving of all days. Think again. What began as bad customer service and a harmless DP diatribe captured the University's sheer callousness towards its students in the name of profit. After the original column met its fate in the recycling bins, the editors of the DP decided to replay it in The Weekly Pennsylvanian sent to the Penn Club and select alumni. The decision was a guileless little tweak on the nose of the Club. The immediacy of the Penn Club's response -- although a testament to the power of the press -- was innocent enough: a faxed note invited the author to a free lunch and tour -- a move straight from the Public Relations 101 text. Innocent? A wise friend reminded me that a free lunch is never free, and might even be a hypocrite's retreat from the column's argument. Wisdom is better left to more responsible years. A more practical friend pointed out that I could finesse my schedule to arrive in the late afternoon, such that I could convince the Club to throw in a free suite for the night. Even if a bit shady, the plan had an elegance demanding appreciation. So elegant, in fact, that I had to ask what had inspired him. He returned the smile of a consummate Penn insider and noted that he had been well received at the Club several times, by virtue of his position in the student community as well as his congeniality. I could almost see my wise friend smirking in the distance. Good p.r. doesn't just grease the wheel that squeaks -- it greases the big wheels that turn all the little ones in their wake. There's certainly nothing illegal about preferential customer service. When designed to co-opt Penn's elite and mute any criticism they might have of the Club, it certainly seems unethical. This criticism is well due. In a separate interview, a University official stated that the building in which the Club is housed was purchased for $15 million and renovated for $24 million. While alumni and "friends of the University" covered the renovations, the University itself footed the bill for the building by providing a mortgage to alumni groups. That $15 million, in other words, won't be back in University hands for another twenty or thirty years. Why does this matter? It all goes back to why those two Penn seniors were forcibly ejected in November for want of a coat and tie. Initial efforts on the Penn Club began at roughly the same time as efforts towards the construction of a Revlon Student Center. This building was conceived as a student union that would be light-years ahead of the pathetic strip mall we have now. University estimates held that the project would be complete and open for business in spring, 1995. Wait a minute. Did anyone mention that the Revlon plans -- which never saw the light of construction -- were shelved last semester for want of funds? The $15 million that the University sank in the Penn Club's purchase might have made a substantial difference. In sounding the Revlon Center's death knell, former Provost Marvin Lazerson admitted he was shy by some $40 million. The University might also have encouraged its alumni and "friends" to put their $24 million for renovations right here on campus, whether in a new student union, improved educational facilities, better residences, a renovated weightroom, or a police force sizable enough to ensure off-campus safety. To put this point in its proper perspective, consider that that kind of money could pay for your tuition for the next 1200 years. The new student union remains a blueprint. Two academic departments were cut last year for lack of funds. The high rises -- originally designed and built as temporary structures -- are still standing. A safe, ventilated weightroom may be coming, but only after a student petition. Pacifying the off-campus area is left to a few volunteer undergrads brave enough to form a town watch. As time and incident demonstrate, the University cares far, far more for its alumni than its student community. Students don't have the luxury of deciding how large a donation to make towards "renovations." Students will never receive $15 million to construct a clubhouse. Yet this remains the University's fault only to a certain extent. As long as "student leaders" allow themselves to be co-opted by things like free lunches, the student community will remain little more than a collection of masochists, willing co-conspirators in their own mistreatment. Before long, they'll be the alumni kicking a few students out of their elitist little club. If anyone at the Penn Club should glance at this, I'd also like to add that I must send my regrets on that lunch and tour you were so kind to offer. But I'm sure there are 20,000 or so other students that would like to take you up on it, since they don't have a place of their own. They'll be in touch. Mark Tonsetic is a senior International Relations and Economics major from Winter Springs, Florida. Letters From Patusan will appear alternate Mondays this semester.