Where was Penn President Amy Gutmann on this day last week?
She wasn't in Cleveland to cheer on the men's basketball team as it competed against Boston College in the NCAA Tournament. Instead, she stayed at Penn for a celebration in honor of James Riepe, chairman of the University Board of Trustees.
The night of festivities commemorated the renaming of the Quad's Spruce College House as Riepe College House -- an honor that came with a modest $10 million price tag.
Riepe is just one of several prominent alumni who have attached their names to undergraduate residences. In 2003, fellow Trustee Alan Hassenfeld and Nine West shoe outlet co-founder Jerome Fisher each chipped in about $5 million to endow the upper Quad, previously named Woodland College House.
It's admirable when these alumni donate their money to on-campus housing, as their contributions have a direct effect on the everyday lives of students. Riepe's gift, for example, will go toward the house's "health and fitness," "living cultures" and mentoring programs -- whatever those are.
The only problem with this recent string of donations to the Quad is that Penn's most historic residence hall really doesn't need all this money. It's already the nicest place to live on campus, with its wood floors and fireplaces, and after its recent $75 million renovation, the grounds and facilities are far superior to those of any other Penn college house.
Wouldn't it be more beneficial if some of Penn's wealthiest alumni decided to tackle the school's most undesirable places to live? If wealthy graduates of the University really wanted to improve the quality of housing on campus, they should endow the high rises.
And I have just the three alumni in mind who would be perfect fits for these buildings.
The first is an obvious one -- Donald Trump. For a man who relishes having his name on as many things possible, it's surprising that there is no Trump Hall on campus.
Trump could singlehandedly turn around the impression Penn students have of the high rises. Who wouldn't want to live in Trump Tower?
The 1968 graduate doesn't stand for mediocrity -- which is what the high rises have come to represent. He wouldn't just come up with the $9 million needed to fix the buildings' constantly exploding pipes; he'd definitely kick in a few more bucks so that every bathroom had a solid-gold toilet.
And Trump would not stand for shoddy elevators or days without electricity in his tower. If a facilities worker made a mistake when fixing your plumbing, leaving you without hot water for an entire weekend -- as was the case with me last year in High Rise South -- Trump would not simply apologize to you. He would walk up to that facilities worker and utter the words that all high-rise residents wish they could hear -- "You're fired."
Steve Wynn -- famous for his Commons, along with some of Las Vegas' most luxurious casinos -- would be perfect for High Rise South. The first thing he could do is revamp that unused piece of land that sits between the building and Spruce Street. While its current use as a large plot of dirt is unique, Wynn could take it in a different direction. He could turn it into a beautiful fountain that dances to classical music every hour, or better yet, a huge, lava-spewing volcano. That's enough to put even the "dueling tampons" to shame.
While the city of Philadelphia looks for locations for two new casinos, what location is more ideal than the rooftop lounge? Not only does it have a beautiful view of the rooftop lounge of High Rise East, but it also has a breathtaking view of High Rise North. Maybe Wynn can comp some of the high-rollers those fancy four-bedroom suites at the end of every hall.
That leaves one more high rise, which I have reserved for my favorite notable Penn alumnus -- Maury Povich. Why Povich? Well, I just thought it would be cool to tell my friends that I live in a building donated by a man who made his fortune off of obese babies and transvestites.
At the very least, Povich is more of a recognizable name to Penn students than Gaylord Probasco Harnwell, W. Welsh Harrison or William Hamilton. Also, Povich, Wynn and Trump all start with different letters, making it less confusing to remember which building you live in.
But in all seriousness, when alumni attach their names to buildings on campus, Penn goes out of its way to keep those facilities in the best possible condition. If the University does not keep these buildings pristine, it runs the risk of losing the donor altogether.
Penn certainly wouldn't want that to happen with this trio.
It's time that alumni stepped up and made a difference -- especially Maury Povich.
David Burrick is a junior urban studies major from Short Hills, N.J., and executive editor of The Daily Pennsylvanian. Camp David appears on alternate Thursdays.
