Twilight Walk

Yesterday I walked across the UC Berkeley campus at dusk after a memorial service for a former colleague.  I was dazzled by how beautiful it was: the lights in the buildings coming on, the navy blue sky, a pair of students tossing a Frisbee with a blue light on it.

The Campanile through the trees of Faculty Glade

 

The Reading Room of Doe Library

The detail of the ceiling

If you squint, you can see a figure and the blue-light Frisbee

The lighted pillars of the North Gate






 

So Long, Christmas!

 

 

It's 364 days before we have to go through it all again!  Hurray!

 

Jerry and I take lots of walks this time of year. I feel pent-up in the house, what with my activities like the Pantry and pool exercise on hold during the holidays.  Jerry goes along, because he doesn't want to "set around the house all day" [stet].

 

A few days ago, we walked the perimeter of the UC Berkeley campus, starting at Oxford and Hearst, going up the hill past the Daily Cal office to Top Dog, where we had lunch. 

 

We continued up Hearst, past the steps Jerry remembers walking down when he first walked on to the campus as an entering junior  in 1953.   

 

Jerry took a photo of me (above) sitting where I did before my first class at Berkeley--on the steps of  International House in October 1970.  Mark Schorer lectured in the I-House auditorium.





 

Then we walked down Bancroft, past the University Art Museum, which opened during my first quarter at Berkeley.  From my eighth floor dorm window, I'd watched the festivities at its back entrance.

 

We cut across Lower Sproul Plaza and walked back along Oxford to the car.  A sentimental journey and some exercise. 

 

Today we took a walk around Lafayette Reservoir. I like to check up on the ornaments people leave on a particular tree each year:

 

 

 

 



And now for a rare lapse into sports...

I don't give a damn about football,  but the confluence of the remodel of UC Berkeley's Memorial Stadium to include expensive luxury seating with finding out that the football coach, Jeff Tedford, makes $2.3 million a year really got to me.

So much so that I actually looked up his contract online to see what else he was getting. 

Turns out he has a car allowance for two cars,  his membership paid for at the Blackhawk Country Club, and he would have gotten a bonus of $1,000,000 if Cal won a National Championship.

(Ha!  Fat Chance!  Snowball's chance in hell, in fact, given the record of the past forty years.)

Why does Cal need a big stadium and a Division I team and fancy work-out rooms?   I know--so they can compete for top athletes.  But why top athletes?  Why not good enough athletes who actually graduate and get launched into life with a bachelor's degree? The graduation rate of football players who entered Cal between 2002-2005 was 48%, the lowest in the Pac-12 Conference. 

This at a school that is highly competitive to get into (if you're not a football player) and where student fees have been raised just about annually.

Yesterday, the athletic director fired Tedford, whose past successes had launched the stadium renovation.

But she didn't fire the concept  of a Division I team, with all the expense that  entails.  The luxury seats in renovated stadium remain, the construction costs yet to be paid off.  And the remainder of Tedford's contract has to be bought out ($6.9 million).

How about Cal ditches the idea of a Division I football and scales back to Division II?   How about everybody takes a deep breath and thinks about what the mission of the University really is? 

As alums,  Jerry and I got three pleading letters last week alone for money from the University, including one from Intercollegiate Athletics.  Lowest suggested amount: $1,000.

Fat chance, etc.

Flying First Class at Memorial Stadium

Ever since I heard that UC Berkeley was going to finance stadium renovations entirely with private money, partly by selling luxury seats, I've wondered what buyers would get for the money and how MUCH money.  And also what the hell is inside that huge new structure perched on the western rim of the stadium:



On Sunday afternoon, I got a chance to check it out at a stadium open house.  Jerry and I hiked up the hill and wandered around that massive structure, which turns out to be full of lounges and seating and bars for people who buy premium seats through the Endowment Seating Program.

Field Level Club seat

Which is not cheap.  The lowest level of the program is the Field Level Club.  For a $40,000-$60,000  one-time upfront fee, or $2,700-$4,100 annually for 30 years,  you get an uncushioned seat close to the field, between the 30-yard lines.  This includes the cost of a season ticket each year, plus parking and a guarantee that the seat will be yours for 40-50 years.

If you buy a Field Level Club seat, you get to buy food drinks at Field Club restaurant  on that level:



Owners of Field Level Club seats use this restaurant.  TV screens everywhere.

If you want to sit on a padded seat,  you can opt for the Stadium Club,  also located between the 30-yard lines but higher in the stadium.  These seats cost from $75,000-$125,000 upfront, or $5,100-$8,500 annually for 30 years.  The seats look just like the Field Level Club seats, with the addition of 3-4 inches of padding on the seat.   Among free perks:  free food and drinks at the Stadium Club restaurant/bar, as well as parking and a guaranteed seat for decades.

Bar in the Stadium Club



Looking west from the  Stadium Club

 

 

 

Stadium Club, with steps to the mezzanine

 

 

And for higher-rollers, there's the University Club a few floors above Stadium and Field levels  (in between  are broadcast and press levels that weren't open for inspection).   For these you pay $175,000-$225,000 in a one-time fee, or $11,900-$15,400 annually for 30 years. The seats and backs are lushly padded and have cup holders. You're sitting at the very top of that new structure, looking way down at the field.  

 

 

View from University Club seats

 

 

 

The University Club has a deck with spectacular views across San Francisco Bay to the Golden Gate.  And inside are lounges and bars, where the food and alcohol are complimentary.  The general public can rent the facilities on a non-game day for $9,750.

 

 

View looking west from the terrace of the University Club

 

 

A wall of windows in the University Club

 

 

 University Club lounge looking toward the football field

 

 

A bar in the University Club

 

 

 

Access to the Stadium and University club seats and restaurants/lounges appears to be strictly controlled:

 

 

University and Stadium Club seat-holders are issued ID bands



 

Yikes.  Are people actually paying this kind of money to go to a football game? I wondered.  I came home and read up.

 

People are buying these seats, but not as many as expected. The launch of Endowment Seating Program coincided with the recession. As of June 30, 2012, only 65% of the Endowment Seating was sold.  Not surprisingly, more Field Level Club seats had been sold (72%) than Stadium Club (60%) and University Club (25%).  And 82% of the buyers elected to  make payments rather than pony up the entire fee. Only $40 million had been paid on pledges of $140 million, and buyers can back out at any time.

 

If the program fails to reach the goal of $270 million from seat sales, there's speculation, per the Wall Street Journal in April, that funds might have to come from the campus to cover the bond payments.  This at a time when state funding has be drastically cut and tuition raised annually. 

 

I left feeling mildly depressed. I love UC Berkeley, and I loved being a student there, but I think fellow alums of my era will probably agree that so much showy money, such stratification of privilege, doesn't seem like the Berkeley we knew. Are we out of step? Or were the Intercollegiate Athletics powers-that-be who thought this up? The stadium needed work to be earthquake-safe, many of its facilities needed updating, and building an endowment to support intercolleagiate athletics is a nice idea. But this?

"Grandiose," is how Jerry describes it. You have to wonder if the lavish restaurants and lounges were necessary to sell the expensive seats.   Who knows.

After viewing all the fancy amenities, it was comforting to see a few of the old bleacher seats refinished and used to panel the Hall of Fame Room near the Field Level Club:

A plank from an old bleacher, refinished and incorporated into a paneled wall in the Hall of Fame

 

On another note: I was curious about the grove of native oak trees that was removed to make way for the Simpson Student-Athlete High Performance Center.  The oaks have been replaced by 134 new trees, according to a hand-out we got at the stadium.  That area has a winding path and has been newly designed and landscaped:

 

Where oaks once stood: newly landscaped path near the Student-Athlete High Performance Center (low building)

And if anyone's tempted:

Awaiting a buyer

 

Best Practice?

Catalog from 1970-71

In January,  UC Berkeley was delighted to tell me that this year marks the 40th anniversary of my graduation.  They promised to stay in touch all year.

I'm ambivalent about Cal. Yes, I went to school there, I loved it, I made lifelong friends, and the culture of the place fit me like a glove.  Consequently, I've lived in Berkeley for 40 years.  I happened to marry a professor (who describes me as "a non-practicing faculty wife").   But I've never been tempted to write checks.


 I prefer to buy cereal and peanut butter for the Berkeley Food Pantry where I see the food move right out the door, untouched by the hands of UC development staff and a 6.5% rake-off on every gift (2.5% if the school or college has its own development office).

So I was already biased against giving money to Cal, but the question was DOA when I saw that the contribution slip enclosed with the letter gave me the choice of donating  $5000, $2500, or  $1000.  That's it.  I wrote "dream on" on this paper and stuck it on  my refrigerator.

Two months later, another letter arrived, again with the choice of giving in the thousands, period.   I was cranky.  I e-mailed the head of class campaigns.  Was she unaware,  I wrote, that many people my age  have a) lost their jobs, b) seen their retirement savings evaporate in the recession,  and/or  c) have  kids to put through college?   How about lowering the bar?  She wrote back and said it was "best practice" to ask for "leadership gifts to commemorate this important anniversary."  Most people who donate write checks for considerably smaller amounts, she said.

Am I the only one who feels cheap due to "best practice?"  The class campaign lady said she'd see about including smaller amounts in the next mailing.   We'll see.