When I first visited Brandeis as a prospective student in 2013, shiny new buildings were not the first thing on my mind. In fact, what I was shown did not even remotely fit that description. Before the tour took me through Massell Quad and up campus—a walk that today I am still uncomfortable making—we went by what students now refer to as Old Sherman, a similarly aging but altogether important component to the university, especially in the wake of the then-recent Lower Usdan renovations. Many of us came to know and love Old Sherman, even if it did not have the best food you have ever tasted, because it had a homey feel to it. Today, the food is the same, but the distinct Sherman feel has gotten lost.
Old Sherman was warm in every sense of the word—literally so on hot summer days—but figuratively so in the cohesive layout of the hall. The furniture was not perfect by any means nor was the broken dishwasher, but it was bright. Even the carpet made students feel more at home. Big windows, some of which today are gone and others covered up, allowed bright sunlight to wash through the dining hall, not only illuminating the area but the collective mood of the people inside.
Now, the dining hall is very dark, lit mostly with artificial lights not dissimilar from the ones installed in the renovated Lower Usdan Dining Hall. The only difference there is that the latter still receives a great deal of natural light from the skylights highlighting the center of the room. Sherman, especially in its new state of perpetual construction, has very little natural light. The first time I ate there, my friend commented quite bluntly (and quite loudly) that the New Sherman felt like a prison. I would not go so far as to say that I agree with that sentiment, but I can certainly respect his frustration with the new layout.
When I asked my friend to explain what he meant when he derided the new renovations, he pointed at the jagged, separated and most of all antisocial nature of the literal furniture layout. Much like Lower Usdan, there are now walls separating people within the dining hall. The tables are positioned in a way that maximizes seating but hurts large groups that wish to socialize together, forcing them to splinter off. These new conditions combined with the hall’s darkness only serve as a detriment to socialization and a depressing force to student morale.
I know that the construction is not yet done and that there is still much work to be done, but unless the layout is to radically change, the shiny New Sherman will fail to garner the respect that the last iteration had. The food has remained virtually unchanged, but the vibe has been disrupted. From Massell Quad, the ongoing construction of a now faceless and bare exterior is fitting when considered with the new interior. In the scramble to put the dining hall together over the summer, Sherman lost its face. It lost its identity that characterized it for so many years.
Old Sherman did have its faults; the previous dishwasher broke, forcing the use of paper and plastic plates and cups for almost all of last year. The facility was not decrepit, but it was on the verge of being. However, the concept of Sherman did not need replacing. It needed only a slight renovation to refresh the facility and maintain its identity. Of course, special considerations would have to have been made anyway in regard to swapping the old and new dishwashers over the summer, but other than that, the facility did not really need the change it got.
A remedy for the problems Sherman faces today is easy to implement. When the construction is complete and the windows are uncovered, more natural light will enter and brighten the atmosphere. A simple reorganization of the layout to a more cohesive and social plan would go a long way to boosting morale as well. Even putting in a simple carpet would help significantly.
The dilemma of Old Sherman and New Sherman are strikingly similar to that of the New York Mets’ former home Shea Stadium and their new home, Citi Field. The former park was decrepit in every sense of the word, but even so, fans would not take to the shiny new stadium that was build in replacement. Like Sherman, Citi Field had an identity problem, or rather a lack thereof. After several years, management finally conceded to fan demands that the park in some way regain the Shea Stadium vibe, and that was with a facility costing upwards of a billion dollars.
The New Sherman is smaller and did not cost upwards of a billion dollars to construct, so it should be easier and quicker to regain the homey identity its predecessor once had. Maybe then, the prison comparisons will cease and the dining hall will once again prop up the immense sense of community that clinches so many prospective student decisions.
