I love St. Olaf’s history. From our humble beginnings as a Lutheran seminary established by a Norwegian immigrant to now a four-year liberal arts college featuring distinguished music ensembles and attracting students from all over the world, I believe it’s important to recognize our institution’s illustrious history. There is nothing that better captures 150 years of history than Old Main. While its inside looks far different than it did in 1877, the fact that its exterior has remained almost unchanged for nearly 150 years is nothing less than extraordinary. History is important, and objects or structures that reflect an institution’s history are crucial and should be celebrated.
That being said, I haven’t been inside Old Main in a year and a half, and I don’t feel particularly bad about it.
Let’s face it: for how nice — and close — other campus buildings are in comparison to Old Main, there are so many better options for a study session than Old Main. I recognize that this reason may actually make Old Main a better study place for some people; the lack of students is undoubtedly enticing for many. No doubt the second-floor study room is nice, the classrooms are modern, and there is — dare I say — an aura about the place. But if I’m within walking distance of Rølvaag, Tomson, Holland, and Regents, I’m not thinking about walking all the way to Old Main. It’s like driving an extra 20 minutes to eat at White Castle, despite living five minutes away from a Culver’s, Shake Shack, and Five Guys, just because White Castle has more history. You might eat at White Castle once just to “feel” something, but you eat at one of the other three places 99 times out of 100.
Don’t get it twisted: this article is not attacking anybody who intentionally spends time in Old Main — it’s just not my personal preference. I view Old Main more as a relic stuck in time than an actual academic building. The building is on the National Register of Historic Places (NRHP) — though with how President Trump is attempting to whitewash history, I wouldn’t be surprised if the NRHP ceases to exist — and I feel like I should play my part in preserving it by not touching it. Just as I refrain from touching paintings at the Walker Art Center, so too will I give Old Main this treatment.
It feels inevitable that after writing this article, I will have a class in Old Main as some divine joke, or perhaps punishment. For now, if you’re hoping to study in a place where “Evan Atchison, Sports Writer,” is not present, Old Main is the place for you.
