Palpitations of the Heart

The University of Illinois, then known as Illinois Industrial University, was founded in 1867. Its first president was a man named John Milton Gregory. With Gregory, we see the foundations of the antagonism that even today stands, between the liberal arts and more "industrial" endeavors. At the time of its founding, the people of Illinois envisioned the University as a place to focus on industrial education. Gregory, however, citing the Morrill Act of 1862 that had apportioned the land for the University, intended to balance this curriculum with the liberal arts tradition commonly associated with universities of the time. He was forced to resign after thirteen years marred by this debate, in 1880.

But Gregory successfully brought liberal arts to the University. In addition to his grave, found between Altgeld and Henry Administration Building, Gregory's legacy to the University can be found in several places. On the seal of the University, a book lies open to pages reading "Agriculture, Science & Art" (emphasis mine). Five years after his resignation, the University changed its name (to "University of Illinois"; "University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign" wouldn't come until 1982, presumably to distinguish the flagship campus from those in Chicago and Springfield), in order to reflect its more holistic nature than rote industrial education. And, of course, the main of three distinct subcampuses would come to what is now the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences.

The book on the seal names the three (or two, and attempted one) quads along the main axis:

Agriculture, Science, and Art

These three "subcampuses," as I call them, belong, naturally, to the three aims laid out in the book above. Agriculture: the "South Quad," home to the College of Agricultural, Consumer, and Environmental Sciences. Science: "North Campus," home to the College of Engineering, as well as two somewhat disjointed quadrangles (Beckman and Bardeen Quads). Art: the "Main Quad," home to the College of Liberal Arts & Sciences. These three subcampuses are such entirely because, to the people who populate them, there is frequently no reason to ever leave one's original in favor of another. To put a personal spin on it, a friend of mine, considering housing options, had immense trouble deciding on an apartment north of Green Street or an apartment near Krannert, because although he had more friends in the Krannert area, he hadn't had a single class outside of North Campus since his first semester.

But, what's quite peculiar about these three subcampuses is that, besides their distinctness, they come together to form something quite special. A great line, a meridian of sorts for the University, straight north and south, about which the three main aims of the University laid out on its seal hold office. They form the main axis of the University, along which sit such notable buildings as the Illini Union, Foellinger Auditorium, the Undergrad Library, Beckman Institute guarding the northern entrance, and the Stock Pavilion guarding the southern entrance. This axis forms the center of the Main Quad and the South Quad, and the main pathway leading from Bardeen Quad to the center of Beckman Quad.

Foellinger Auditorium through the legs of the bell tower along the main axis

Stock Pavilion through the legs of the bell tower along the main axis

The heart of a research university, as Professor Hinders put it, is in its library. In a sense, it makes a simple logical sense; for one, in order to do much of one's work, especially outside the industrial education, one must research what's already been done and thought. A grad student of the humanities would likely spend an incredible amount of time perusing the stacks of literary discourse analysis as part of their learning. In another sense, even the industrial academics are performing research that will wind its way into the library, in hopes of inspiring some new line of research by doing so. The collection of knowledge that is a library is literally the heart of the University, pumping ideas instead of blood to and from even the furthest extremities (*cough* National Soybean Research Lab, I'm looking at you *cough*).

The heart of campus, the courtyard of the undergrad library

And where better to put said heart than right along our main axis? It's even fairly close to the middle, especially if you account for the fact that campus also extends east/west once you reach the bell tower in the middle of the South Quad. The heart is placed, by happy accident or brilliant and extensive planning, perfectly to play as magnet for the campus, keeping everything tied to a central core.

From this angle, the roofs of the "temples" (or as I'd call them, bar magnets)

seem to point directly at the base of the bell tower.

It's also, thanks to the quirks of its location next to the Morrow Plots, a fascinating rehash of the argument dating all the way back to the University's founding. You see, in order to keep from shading the field, the building could not tower over the campus and provide visual reference to the pulsing, beating core of our University. It had to be built down, it had to dig into the earth and parts unknown, to provide the space a library needs. However, the heart of the campus still needed to feel somehow important. And so, a great big hole in the building was planned and burdened with two purposes: one, to keep people from feeling like moles, cut off entirely from the world above (its the same reason Noyes has a nominal courtyard with only some industrial-looking vents and a view of the sky; everybody wants to have a window where they work); and two, to serve as figural core of the University.

It's truly fitting that this core is a void, and not some towering building. In truth, the University doesn't quite know itself what belongs there. The rehash I alluded to earlier is of the argument that sullied President Gregory's tenure at this University in its first thirteen years. Today, of course, there is still some level of that antagonism on campus. To simplify, let's only consider the three groups party to this conflict. There's the engineers, residents of North Campus, who believe they bring the most notoriety and prestige to the university through high rankings and notable alumni. There's the people of liberal arts, residents of the Main Quad, who uphold what, ostensibly, makes the University a university. Lastly, there's the agriculturalists, who are the true origins of the University and still probably bring it the most money. But, though there is some rivalry between Engineering and ACES, these two form the old industrial education that Gregory sought to balance out with LAS's liberal arts. Which of these two groups holds the most importance or should dictate the direction of the university is still being fought out, with the courtyard of the Undergrad Library as the wound in the earth to mark their battlefield. Did you know that there are four different inscriptions in the walls of the courtyard? Below, I've taken pictures of them, and if you cannot see the words I've also taken the liberty of transcribing them in the captions:

"The real object of university education is to furnish preparation for efficient social service"

"Books are alive to the man who knows how to use these sources of inspiration and power"

"This court is dedicated by the Class of 1916 to the memory of Edmund Janes James, President 1904-1920

"Let this be a holy place for the human spirit consecrated to the forces which magnify the soul"

We begin, facing the south and the Stock Pavilion, with the opening argument of industrial education: "The real object of university education is to furnish preparation for efficient social service." They believe that a university shall only need to bring in and pump out people trained to most effectively better the state that (ideally) funds her. Presumably, this would be through extensive training in their own field, to the point of mastery, and setting them loose with a mission. Turning clockwise to the west, we have a more simple testament to the library's nature as "place where books are." What surprises me somewhat (though I understand the donors intent on highlighting the importance of their role in this building) is the inscription to the north, along the main axis, as simple dedication of the building. Instead, we find that liberal arts's opening statement, in some ways admittedly a mirror of the inscription to the west, is to the east: "Let this be a holy place for the human spirit consecrated to the forces which magnify the soul." Though this could be taken to mean that the library should be like a temple, I'd read it instead as talking about the University as a whole. Liberal arts believes that a university does more than push out highly trained civil servants; rather, it should help better the men and women who pass through its halls in both mind and soul! All parents seem to talk about time at college as a time of self-discovery, and university education seems somewhat inefficient still if its aim is merely to impart technical knowledge. There is instead an expense of effort to help students, frequently doing a lot of things for the first time, come to learn about themselves and their place in the world.

This is what I see as the true importance of the Undergrad Library, at least architecturally. It stands, as inverse monolith, to remind students and faculty who pass it by of the fight for the core of the school. It's particularly interesting that, instead of sitting precisely in the middle of the main axis, somewhere on the Main Quad, it sits nestled directly between the Main Quad and the South Quad, the homes of the original two participants of this fight. It does not seek to pass judgment on who is winning or may win in the future (aside from the subtle dig of moving the liberal arts inscription off of the main axis). It is, as a library should be, there to edify us, to ensure we remember this great war of culture.

~~~~~

A few asides and other things I found interesting about our walk on the South Quad besides what I've already written. The walkways along the South Quad use trees to tighten the great expanse of the quadrangle, as well as to give them a cathedral-like air. Originally planted exclusively with elms that stretched ninety or more feet in the air, they now are lined by a mix of trees closer to fifty feet, presumably so that not all the trees would die at once as happened when the elms were ravaged by disease.

The trees along the walkway barely seem to arc towards each other,

creating a tight space that doesn't feel so oppressively large.

The bell tower, in addition to lying along both the main and military axes, also perfectly frames them. This you might have been able to see in the earlier pictures from the Stock Pavilion and Foellinger, but the legs of the tower form corridors along the axes, as pictured below:

North (main axis)

East (military axis)

South (main axis)

West (military axis)

And an interesting story to add in as well, relating to the military axis of the University. If you've ever wondered why local college radio 107.1 has the letters it does (WPGU) as opposed to the more logical choice of WPCD for 88.7, Parkland College's radio station, the answer lies in what we discussed gave the military axis its name. W, of course, prefixes all radio and television broadcasters east of the Mississippi (generally speaking; K is its counterpart to the west); PGU stands for Parade Ground Unit, as 107.1 originally eminated from a broadcasting unit in the parade grounds way back when it was actually known as such! Fun fact for you.