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Princeton Legends

Butler College, A Holocaust Memorial

According to legend, a wealthy "Mrs. Butler" donated money to Princeton in order to fund the building of a dormitory. But she had one minor stipulation. She demanded her donation go toward the building only if it stood as a memorial to the Holocaust.

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Because of her request, the bulk of Butler resembles Second World War's Nazi concentration camps. The most notable representation of this comes in the form of bike racks on the roofs of the 1922, 1940, 1941 and 1942 dormitories and Laurie Love Hall in Butler College. These bike racks allegedly esemble the barbed wire of Nazi concentration camps. The dates of three buildings, 1940, 1941 and 1942, even match up perfectly with the darkest years of the Holocaust.

However there was no Mrs. Butler. It was a Mr. Lee D. Butler '22, a former University trustee, who gave the money for creating Butler College to the University. According to the statements of Orange Key tour guides, the accused dormitories have in fact been around since the 1960s, and were previously known as the "New New Quad."

In regards to the bike rack issue, the claim is that the rooftop display is meant to be a modern rendition of the collegiate Gothic style. Along with the bike racks, the construction of brown brick over reinforced concrete and the tight scale and unevenness of surfaces is also meant to create a modern interpretation of the Gothic look.

However, the gray and angular nature of the residential college continues to fuel rumors. Alex Ripp '08 said, "I heard from someone who took a class about the architecture of Princeton that the professor mentioned that Butler was based on a concentration camp. It may be a myth, but I wouldn't entirely discount it."

Underground Steam Tunnels

With the release of their novel "The Rule of Four," Ian Caldwell '98 and Dustin Thomason sparked rumors of a campus-wide underground steam tunnel system run rampant.

In the book, the main characters partake in paintball fights in the tunnels, use them to walk to the Ivy Club and engage in a high speed foot chase through them at the story's climax. Soon everyone was asking whether or not these structures actually do exist below our campus' grass and pavement, and if they indeed do, whether or not they are really so extensive.

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Members of the Class of 2008 may remember the moment when President Tilghman declared, "You can just forget about looking for the steam tunnels — they don't exist!" in an attempt to quell all curiosity. However, it appears that not all prying minds were put to rest, as a member of that class has since looked for those steam tunnels, found them and explored them.

Apparently there are a number of manhole covers throughout campus that sport the words "steam tunnel" on them, and it takes only bare hands to lift the covers off many. "I don't known how Shirley could get away with that," the student says, adding that there are marked entrances into the tunnels from at least as far up campus as Nassau Hall and as far down campus as behind Dillon Gymnasium.

However, in the tunnels themselves, nothing is quite as livable as the winding routes described in "Rule of Four." When underground, one is walking amidst a number of high-pressure pipes at dangerously high temperatures. "You're balled up on all fours," the explorer says. "You have to waddle."

And you have to waddle carefully. "To your left is a 200 degree pipe, and to your right is a 400 degree pipe." He adds, "You could definitely not paintball in them."

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In truth, there is little that is safe about these steam tunnels. The tunnels are full of steep drops and darkness in which a flashlight, towels (to place on hot pipes) and water bottles (for drinking and cooling down the pipes) are essential to surviving the experience.

There are no hidden secrets or treasures to be found in the rooms of switches and pipelines, and there is no safe way in or out. And if that doesn't scare you, then keep in mind that entering the tunnels is against University policy, so if you do come out unscathed you could still be endangering your education.

"There was this twelve-year-old LGBT poster for a 1994 opening ceremony or something," the student says. "There was also a notebook with a whole map of most of the tunnels and some thermodynamics notes in it, too." But he adds, "that's the most we could find there. It's really just incredibly steamy and incredibly hot."

In summation, there are in fact steam tunnels that stretch beneath the University's campus. However, while they do lead to (probably) all of the campus' facilities underground, there is nothing else lurking within them — certainly nothing worth the risk of heading down there yourself.

Shimmying twelve-foot pipes and taking hairpin turns and drops are just a few of the tasks that an adventurer must undertake in order to slowly and deliberately (remember how hot and close together some of these pipes are) traverse the maze made by these cramped constructions.

"Nothing's that sexy and amazing about the steam tunnels — but they're just interesting," the student says. But after a moment of thought, he added jokingly, "It also makes a nice sauna. It would be great in the winter."

60 percent of Alums Get Married

Orange Key admissions tours supply a prospective undergrad with enough Princeton mythology to easily last him or her four years. Most of these myths are well forgotten by graduation. Not so with the bomb that is dropped as your Orange Key guide walks her group through the idyllic Prospect Garden: sixty percent of Princeton alums marry each other, she tells her group, and many in this very spot.

So what is the real truth? Sorry to all the hopeless romantics and Princeton enthusiasts, but according to Julie Kestenman '05 in a 2002 Princetonian article, "Alumni find soul mates in classmates," the alumni council reports that only 17 percent of alumni marry each other.

Though it's a far cry from the 60 percent rate, it does mean that almost one out of every five students will marry another Princetonian. And not all of these Tiger love matches happen after graduation: Liz Yates '06 was recently engaged to Charlie Scribner '05, who she met on campus and will marry after she graduates. Adding that she has walked through the FitzRandolph gates (see MYTH: Gates), Liz notes, "I suppose I'm a pretty good guinea pig for Princeton myths, if I live to tell the tale!"

Cannon Club's Oreo Mountain

With the emergence of facebook.com groups such as "Committee for the preservation of the traditions of Cannon Club," the former eating club turned writing center seems to generate plenty of buzz considering it is, and has been for many years, out of commission.

The club's lore includes flat-out outlandish superstitions — such as the belief that the iconic cannon on the front lawn will fire when a virgin walks past — and some more believable, albeit still outlandish, myths.

According to legend, the double-taproom club, once known as the nexus of campus late-night partying, squandered $10,000 on Oreos after learning that the club's closure was inevitable. The Oreos were piled on the front lawn, and the members proceeded to gorge on cookies and beer until the funds and taps ran dry.

However, every source I asked about the legend of the Oreos and Cannon Club told a slightly different story, leaving me to wonder what the real story was when stripped of hyperbole, and moreover, if there was any truth behind it. All agree that the club was in serious financial trouble as a result of, in the words of Rob Katz '08, "throwing ridiculous parties."

While Katz believes that the members of the club decided to spend the rest of their money by "buying tons of Oreos and planting them all over the grounds," Lev Berlin '07 maintains that the University gave Cannon $10,000 with which the members bought Oreos and sat around all day eating them and throwing them.

The story has never been confirmed, though Natalia Rodriguez '08 claims that her friend's father, a Princeton alum and member of the Cannon Club, attests to the veracity of the tale. While this seems to be more hearsay than truth, what really happened seems not to phase the lovers of this legend like Berlin who excitedly adds, "I thought it was awesome!"

Brooke Shields and the Chandelier

Rumor has it that during her time at Princeton, Brooke Shields '87 confirmed that nothing gets between her and her Calvins. While we may think of her as a poised and talented actress now, it seems that at Princeton the Beast may have gotten to Brooke a little too much.

Topping all other rumors about campus celebrities, Shields is said to have swung naked from a chandelier while partying a little too hard one night at the Cannon Club. While perhaps entertaining to imagine, the rumor has never been substantiated.

Andrew Carnegie's generous gift to the crew team

According to legend, President Woodrow Wilson 1879 and Andrew Carnegie were discussing a potential donation by Carnegie to fund the growth of the University. When Mr. Carnegie saw how far the rowers had to walk in order to attend practice, he demanded that his money go toward creating an area where the crew team could practice in decent proximity to campus.

Taking what he could get, Wilson accepted Carnegie's money, and the result was the construction of Carnegie Lake, whose picturesque boathouse is frequented by the highly competitive Princeton Crew Team today.

Interestingly enough, much of this is true. However it was Howard Russell Butler and his brother William Allen Butler, both '76 (that's 1876), who believed that Princeton University undergraduates should have a better place for rowing than an old canal that was rather unsuccessfully used in the 1870s.

Their plea rang in the ears of Scottish-American steelmaker Carnegie, who had already built a number of lochs in his native Scotland. Therefore, Carnegie Lake, a body of water three and a half miles long and 800 feet across at its widest point, was created in 1906 by the construction of a dam at Kingston that joined Stony Brook and the Millstone River.

It is important to note, however, that both James McCosh and Wilson had already approached Carnegie with requests for a donation. And while Carnegie's gift may have been generous, both University leaders had hoped that he would financially bolster the school's academics as well.

After the lake's completion, when Carnegie refused to give no more, Wilson is quoted as having said to him, "We needed bread and you gave us cake." Wilson grumbled, but the students cheered. And since its creation, the student body has appreciated Carnegie's donation just as well as any other, and for the crew team it will always mean a world of difference from what could have been.

The Chapel Yale Bulldog

Legend has it that the Chief Architect of the University Chapel, Mr. Ralph Adams Cram, and the Princeton's President Hibben had an argument concerning the overall look of the structure.

The story goes that Cram found a moderate-sized structure with a rather plain look to be most appropriate, but Hibben went on to raise enough funds to demand a more majestic structure that Cram would have to design and then oversee the construction of. In retaliation for the burden, Cram, a Yale graduate, secretly sculpted the Yale bulldog on one of the Chapel's drainpipes.

First and foremost, Ralph Cram did not go to college. He was a partner in the then-famous Cram and Ferguson firm of Boston, and was the University's supervising architect between 1907 and 1929. Many of the University's gothic structures were created during this time, and Cram was therefore a busy man.

There would be no reason for Cram to spitefully place the Yale bulldog on the University Chapel, so what reason could there be for its rather inexplicable presence? The carving, a British bulldog, might coincide with the Bright Pulpit, which is just around the corner. The Pulpit is dedicated to "the great British commoner," John Bright.

Or perhaps Cram was secretly a brilliant man with a sharp sense of humor, and saw the prime opportunity to give Yale its place in the gutter.

FitzRandolph Gates

The FitzRandolph gates stand up against Nassau Street, grandiosely marking the entrance to Princeton University. Walking through them from the sidewalk, one enters a dividing brick pathway whose center road leads to the front steps of Nassau Hall. However, according to superstition, walking through the main gates from the campus to Nassau Street will inevitably prevent you from graduating from the University.

Such University lore seems to scream fiction, yet there is a bit of haunting truth to the matter. The gates have only been perennially open since the class of 1970 requested it. For 90 years before that, the gates were only open for the Alumni P-Rade and other special occasions.

In 1988, the gates became a staple of Princeton University graduation ceremonies, as the official graduation march through the gates was added to tradition. Around that point, it was decided that graduation was the only time that a student could walk through those gates, and if he or she did so prematurely, they would never do so again.

There are many stories floating around campus about friends of friends who walked through and never made it to their diploma. One such story comes from Matthew Ferguson '96, a previous chairman of the Orange Key Guides. In an earlier interview, he said "My roommate walked out the gate, and he's not back this year."

However, there are also many stories of students who have already walked out of FitzRandolph gates and sincerely plan on graduating.

Senior Dan Pugliese has taken the risk. Of his experience, Pugliese says "I walked through the gates a bunch of times my freshman year to go to Nassau Street." He mentioned the important point that "There are so many superstitions at every school, that I forgot that there was this one at Princeton."

And with the University's 98 percent freshman retention rate and 97 percent graduation rate, the numbers make this rumor nothing more than not-so-old campus legend.