Urban Spelunkers

From the Office of the Vice President
Vassar College

May 1917

My fingers weave their way around torn edges and a fragile spine. Ever so slowly, I pry apart the booklet, dust spitting upwards. Fluorescent white from my phone's flashlight bleaches the page, and squinted eyes make out "Section 11: Finances". I am holding a slice of history.

This is the basement of Main Building at Vassar College. It opened its doors in 1861, and was at the time, the largest building in the United States. Once a prestigious home to classrooms, offices, and the rooms of the Vassar girls at the time, it now stands... decaying. That's not to say it isn't a sight to behold - not at all. From the moment that we drove into campus in August of 2013, it was the center of attention. Proud and graceful, like an aged philosopher. Arms by its side, a glorious bed of flowers in front of it, and filled with grand parlors, decadent halls, and cozy nooks, Main Building has a certain charisma that you can't ignore. The hallways are wide enough for a 7-aside game of gully cricket - which means that they can easily fit two simultaneous 40 over matches played at Shivaji Park.

An aerial view of Vassar's quad

Main's charm wears off quickly. The parents depart in a few days, fresh with the memory of the luscious green campus, stunning architecture, and beaming faces, but us students have to reconcile with poor plumbing, cramped quarters, and dining hall meals that, contrary to modern science, actually manage to extract any flavor the raw ingredients might have had.

Down in main basement, things have taken a turn for the worse. It's a scene straight out of a dystopian fiction, the types where nuclear bunkers are raided and left to rot. We're greeted with a fresh assortment of cobwebs with every five steps - all while daintily stepping on wobbly, makeshift floors and avoiding rusty, dangling pipes. Oh, did I mention that the ceiling caps out at 5' 8"? Makes it hard for two 6-footers to navigate, not to mention the ridicule we get from the short one accompanying us. It's ok - it's the only time she gets to make fun of us for being tall.

A welcoming sign

So we're down in the basement, which, by the way, is out of bounds for students. Not that students don't find their way down there - clearly - but security can allegedly get you in trouble for messing around there. But they have better things to do than go on a wild goose chase underneath a 150 year old building. God forbid, there could be 20 year olds drinking alcohol somewhere!

After about 20 minutes of scurrying around, ducking beneath low doorways, sliding through narrow openings, and dodging broken glass, we stumble upon a room with things in it. Boxes, crates, machines, lightbulbs... the place is a mess. My head brushes against something hanging from the ceiling, and with a yelp, I leap back.

Hello there

I sheepishly turn to look back at the disapproving faces of my friends as one of them reaches over my shoulder and pulls the string. An incandescent bulb flickers to life, illuminating the chaos around us. For a hoarder it is heaven. For a neat-freak, it is hell frozen over. I frantically begin arranging the boxes properly, shoving the antiquated machinery aside and stacking the files into appropriate crates. Once that project is done, I characteristically poke my nose into everything. There are academic records, microfilms, magazines, and contracts. We find Meryl Streep's report card for her freshman year. We find my friend's dad's academic record. We find GPAs far better than ours.

And then, I find this pamphlet.

There's nothing really remarkable about it. It's just a year-end report. Updates, finances, recaps... the usual.

But I can't put it down.

I try to put it back, but I just keep going back for it.

So I slide it in my pocket and walk out.

I'm no Bonnie and Clyde and it's not exactly an Ancient Egyptian grave robbery either. There's no thrill of the steal... not that I'm really stealing anything - how can you steal something if it isn't worth anything at all? I'm probably the most attention it's gotten in years! But then, it's forgotten again. Back into the abyss.

* * *

Weeks later, I open my drawer to pull out a folder. I dig through to find the right one, but what do I see? A small, grey booklet staring right back at me. Hmm. I cock my head and gently pick it up. I peel apart the first page and dive right in. It's either this, or homework.

"In prison, a man'll do most anything to keep his mind occupied."

College, at times, felt like a prison. All I needed was to escape it.

Within the hour, I was up-to-date on all the Vassar news... of 1917, that is. As up-to-date as an aspiring archaeologist can be. I had traveled - not far, not long - but traveled all the same. To a time where only girls attended. Where electricity bills were a bigger concern and torrenting movies wasn't an issue. Where Vassar was busy trying to figure out where to build its next building while the country, thanks to a simple telegram, was embroiled in the bloodiest war the world had ever seen.

I don't think that the 1917 report and the 2017 report are all too different. There are budgetary problems. There are buildings to take care of. The US is involved in global conflict. Professors heartbreakingly bid adieu to one batch of students while gleefully accepting the next. Times change, but people don't... or something like that.

We all say that history is just another form of stories. Some of it real, most of it fake, and the truth - well, in history, there's no such thing as truth, is there?

This booklet proved to me that we can interact with history beyond the bounds of some far-off stories. It alters our present-day experiences and interactions, even if it's only 100 years apart. In those hundred years, we saw two of the most horrific displays of brutality and bloodshed. We saw people sent to their deaths based on their race. We saw nations collapse and dissolve. But we also saw man ascend new heights - quite literally. We put a man on the moon. On the moon! We built machines that allow us to see each others' faces in realtime. We cured the deadliest diseases. We came together against acts of inhumanity to save each other.

I have a flair for the dramatic, but you have to admit - if a silly little pamphlet has the ability to break past our conceptions of history and time, what can the monuments, artifacts, and people do?