Room by Room: The Story of One Entryway

Lounging on blankets and sipping wine last Tuesday at midnight, a dozen seniors in the Lowell House courtyard bantered about the NBA, gossip and plans for the Last Chance Dance.

The group collectively waved at Master Diana L. Eck as she walked by on her way to the superintendent's office.

"I locked myself out--again," Eck sheepishly admitted to the students, who soon returned to their debate over which of them would take married names.

As the night lingered, tipsy neighbors returned from various parties and bars to plop down on the grass, listen to music and pass around their first-year facebook to pick out targets for the next night's debauchery.

"Oh yes, we do this all of the time," jokes F-42 resident Matthew T. Ozug '00.

For Lowell's F entryway and their extended House family, this was another last chance--to bond, meet and share with their community.

Without theses, plays or sports weighing on their schedules, the seniors finally had time for the model House life. And undoubtedly, the potential for a connection was there.

Virtually all of the residents of Lowell F, which houses members of five blocking groups, would characterize their entryway relationship as unusually close.

But like most things at Harvard, entryway life was only there when they worked for it--and most of them didn't have the time.

The Buzz

The Buzz

Walk into F-31 any Wednesday night at about 8 p.m. and prepare to be attacked. The senior trio of May H. Li, Sally E. Sadoff and Maureen K. Schad perch themselves on the crowded couches and chairs in their common room for their ritual viewing of "Dawson's Creek."

"Why are they together?" shouts Sally in disbelief at the screen. "What! Ohmigawd this girl is a bitch!"

The assortment of visitors are unperturbed by the outpouring of emotion.

As Maureen says, "We're the quirky room."

One of their artist friends has depicted each of the four seasons in murals that cover the bathroom walls, and all three have painted their rooms with bright colors.

Sally's room, with its lime green walls, holds a series of bowls she purchased in Senegal, fancy hats and a new addition: a "Dawson's Creek" poster.

They describe the suite as something of a time warp. Things just take longer, whatever those things may be.

"We all know this place is completely unproductive," May says.So they constantly seek other venues where they can do work.

"I'm always frantically rollerblading somewhere," Sally says.

"You're all disheveled and frantic and infused with energy," Maureen tells her.

Their interactions with entryway-mates tend to be dominated by their male blockmates, who pop in and out of the room constantly.

But they have also bonded with the five guys next door in F-32.

It all started when they found out about a relay marathon on Cape Cod.

They knew that the House's intramurals representative Matthew F. Delmont '00 was an avid runner, so they asked their neighbor to join their team.

"Hi, I'm Sally. Want to run a marathon?" Sally recalls asking him.In keeping with the team's theme, Runaway Brides, each of the runners wore a costume. May was the groom, Sally was the bridesmaid and Matt was the bride.

A good sport, Matt played along and was even videotaped during the endeavor.

Now the women attend their neighbors' parties, and the two suites share videos.

With the other rooms, there is much less interaction. Of the six girls downstairs, only Ann S. Kim '00 regularly makes the trek to their room.The biggest mystery of the entryway, they say, is the sole room of non-seniors.

"The sophomore boys," Sally says. "They were actually the biggest partiers in the entryway."

After repeatedly asking them to turn down their music--frequently the Venga Boys tune "Boom Boom Boom"--the women say they felt like the little old ladies downstairs.

Baby Talk

Baby Talk

The sophomores vehemently deny their room always has a week-old plate of chicken wings from the dining hall as a floor display piece. As for the various articles of clothing strewn about, they swear they were about to clean them up.

But their image as the young, wild guys is heavily self-perpetuated.

"They're constantly telling us how much they drink and smoke," says Julio V. Gambuto '00, one of their neighbors.Part of the intrigue of the room is its shrinking size. Originally a four-man suite, two of the residents had to leave for separate reasons during the year, leaving Brian W. Smith '02 and Tobias C. Berkman '02 on their own.

With an extra room on their hands, the guys have designated the barren space as their "smoking room."

And as for their usual weekend activities?

"I generally go to the Grille and get drunk and pass out," Brian says.

They may be social, but when it comes to their entryway, they tend to stay far removed.

Compared to the social atmosphere of their first-year dorm, F entry is somewhat isolating.

But they say they are responsible for this difference.

"We have our own lives, and they have their own lives," Brian says. "No one's excluding anyone. They say, 'Come over any time. Stop by and have a drink.' I just never took them up on it. I like the social group I have, and they're happy with me."

To Tobey, perhaps the main reason for why they have remained outsiders is their age.

"Usually they're not all from another year," Tobey says. "We didn't know these people before, and they all did."

Where the Boys Are

Where the Boys Are

Boys will be boys, especially the boys in F-32 dominated by House committee big shots Matt Delmont and Kenneth W. Miller. Along with track team members Cabral M. Williams and Victor V. Danh and room cutup Timothy J. Arnold, the all-senior gang looks like it's about to start a club with no girls allowed.

But last year, when Matt and Ken were trying to encourage other House residents to play ultimate frisbee, they met Michelle Y. Rhee '00, now a resident of F-51.

Even though she was injured in the game, Michelle decided not to hold a grudge and started a weekly tradition of watching "Ally McBeal" with her new teammates.

"For a while last year she was our token female friend," Ken says.This year, she was the only female to join the guys on their spring break jaunt to Cancun.

Throughout the House, they say, they are known as all-around nice guys.

"At the dining hall at meals, it's like the big joke," Matt says. "When people are down on their luck, they sit with us."

One evening two weeks ago, inspired by the movie Gladiator, the boys had grabbed a copy of Spartacus at the video store.

Dressed in a floral blue dress, Elizabeth E. "Emy" Hancock '00, Michelle's roommate, had joined them for the night's entertainment.

An F-32 regular, Emy says she has grown fond of the boys.

"They're highly abusive, always trying to get me to buy food for them," she says. She teases the boys about a recent prank they pulled on her when she left her purse in their room.

"Generally they act respectfully to me--only later do they put gay porn in your purse."

Just a few moments later, Cabral heads in with M. Jake Ewart '00, a blockmate from Claverly Hall who considers himself an honorary member of the entryway. Both start munching away on their tacos as WWF flickers on the screen.

"I didn't spill a goddamned thing!" Jake shouts, as he stuffs the last chunk of tomato into his mouth and high-fives Cabral.

Beyond Simple Sketches

Beyond Simple Sketches

Instead of slapping palms, the senior males one flight up toss a small white ball around the room while they chat.

"I would say I'm surprised we get along so well together," Juri E. Henley-Cohn '00 says of the personality mix.Each fits into his own niche: Juri and Julio V. Gambuto are the room's resident actor types, Matt Ozug is the outdoorsy master FOP leader and Brian Johnson '00 is the "ec version of a gov jock," according to Julio or "your all natural Fly guy," to Matt.

They could not be any closer.

"On an average weekday, I would say there's virtually no studying in this room," Brian says. "Maybe watching a movie, maybe just sitting around talking, wasting time."

When all four of them took the core Moral Reasoning 22: "Justice," they would bring discussions back to the room and debate for hours.

Another ongoing conversation has focused on final clubs. Matt, Julio and Juri are all members of the Phoenix S.K. club, although Matt and Julio are inactive. Brian is in the Fly club.

Two years ago the three Phoenix members were active in the push to go coed. When their efforts failed, they say, they questioned the system.

"When it comes to final clubs, we've had a lot of discussions about them," Juri says. "Just because on paper we're all in one doesn't mean we all stand by them."

Nothing though--no final club, no thesis--could disrupt their friendship.

"We all prioritize each other above our academics. We have so many epic stories, like crashing cars in Key West and our 10-day trip to Morocco," Juri says.

Julio says that over the past four years of tough times and high emotions, their blocking group has continued to grow tighter.

"I came out two years ago," Julio explains. "Experiences like that and with our families have helped us become a family."

They characterize their bond as unique--the crew are more friends than ideal roommates.

"There are a lot of people who live together well," Matt says. "I don't think that's us."

Their closeness extends to the women in F-31, who are their blockmates and best friends.

Our blocking group has an open door policy. I'm there as much as I'm here," Julio says.

Originally, they had even contemplated plans to have a coed room.

Last year, when both Maureen and May went abroad second semester, the boys kept Sally company.

"Sally had an open window policy that year," Matt says of the girls' first floor room.

He came by so much he eventually moved into one of the two empty bedrooms.

With such a close relationship, the boys know all about one of the girls'

entryway crushes (code name: Salt).

While none of them is as close with their neighbors as they are with their blocking group, there is a split between those who want to participate more in entryway life and those who could live without it.

When Julio's play "The House of Blue Leaves" came up on the main stage, virtually all of Lowell F showed up to support him. And Julio and Matt have hung out with the boys downstairs to watch Yankees games.

As for their sophomore neighbors, a solid relationship never fully developed.The regrets of what could have been remain.

On May 29, Brian Smith was packing up his stuff in his dad's car, which had "Beef 1" on the license plate. Matt was instantly fascinated by Brian's stories about life on the farm back in Oklahoma.

"I had an interesting conversation with him about cattle," Matt says. "I wish I could have gotten to talk to him more."

Most of the missed opportunities to bond come from apathy, some entryway members say.

"I was fairly uninvolved," Juri admits. I just end up not going. It was there--I wasn't uninterested, but I wasn't that interested. It wasn't a priority."

Brian, another less active entryway member, agrees that forming a stronger connection to the House wasn't something he wanted to concentrate on pursuing. The extra effort to go to another study break or strike up a conversation just didn't seem worth it.

"We're really a clique," he says. "By senior year you know enough people that your world is established."

"It wasn't a conscious decision not to know them," Brian adds. "You find yourself getting lazy."

Girl Talk

Girl Talk

F-21, the bottommost student room, would probably consider itself the most grounded.

Seniors Ann S. Kim, Rebecca J. Mandell, Emma F. Phillips, Taylor L. Pollock, Jin Y. Yoo and Marjolein Wijnen form their self-declared social circle.

Every day, at least three of them eat dinner together.

"Like in a family you try to connect. That's what rooming groups are all about," Emma says. "When you have emotional, hysterical breakdowns, this is a pretty good place to get the support I need."

But some of the roommates say they are less willing to extend this family feel to all of F entry.

I've probably only been to three study breaks," Taylor remarks. "We're not very active in House life."

"Yes we are," Ann counters. "What are you talking about? We go to Stein Club. I do stuff with the House."

Ann, the one teased for never being in the room, finds it hard to resist the urge to be social.

Living downstairs from May gave her the chance to become better friends with someone who was once just a casual acquaintance.

"There's something in me, I just want to know more people," she says. "It's really refreshing to know new people."

Without that drive to be so extroverted, some of her roommates say they have not worked to develop the same kind of House community.

But they appreciate the camaraderie nonetheless.

"Being in this entryway, I tread only one path--between here and the dining hall," Rebecca says. "I feel like everybody's really nice--full of neat people. When you pass on the stairs, you always say hello. There's no snobbery. There are a lot of different worlds, but they can mix if you put them together."

As the group chats about their tea consumption and average hair length, Ann runs to her room to grab her video camera.

"I've been videotaping random conversations," Ann says. "I want to make some sort of video tape--just our bizarre lives."

"There's a lot more footage that needs to be shot," Emma says.

Just Like Mom and Dad

Just Like Mom and Dad

The women of F-21 threw the engagement party for entryway tutors Jim von der Heydt and Meg Marshall. The nuptials are set for this summer.They say they want to wait to have their first child until resident Taylor Pollock becomes an Ob-Gyn.

Their set eating time makes it convenient for residents to join them for meals. At their weekly study breaks--every Sunday night at 9 p.m.--they welcome everyone into their cozy, if cramped, living room. They even edit papers for their entryway.

Their entryway students, many of whom say they have not been impressed with some tutors in the House, gush over Jim and Meg.

Entryway resident Michelle founded the poetry journal the Gamut and now Jim serves on the board. Meg, an aspiring minister, has given solace and comfort to practically every student in the entryway and beyond.

"We see ourselves as a team," Meg says. "We work both together and separately with them. It's almost as if we have three relationships with them."

n terms of their style as tutors, Jim agrees it' best not to overwhelm.

"We tend to be more receptive than hyperactive," he says.

The one area in which they admit that they go overboard is their study breaks.

Always creative, like a chocolate fondue event combined with door prizes (silly straws and pick-up sticks) for exam period, the study breaks have become so popular they have attracted "honorary" entryway members.

"I like having the weekly check-in and know we've seen them in the space of the week," Meg says.

Jim and Meg have used the breaks to start entryway intrigue.

When they heard Sally and May's idea to open up an all pudding shop--tentatively named "Pudding on the Ritz"--they decided to turn the concept into a Sunday night activity.

With the promise of five flavors of pudding, a crowd of about a dozen people came to nosh and discuss the idea.

Originally, the eaters were skeptical, but by the time the pots were empty, they concluded the fad would last at least a year.

"They get going in an argument," Jim says of watching the group bounce ideas off each other. "I just think it's the greatest thing."

Watching their students get closer as the year has progressed has given them faith in the entryway concept.

It's a Venn diagram, but it made possible friendships," Jim says. "You don't meet people at the House karaoke night. It's the smallness of these things that makes them work."