Hello Princeton freshpeople, hope you’ve been adjusting well. As you try to poach upperclassmen to get a guest pass inside an eating club, here’s what you’re missing when it’s not open to the (kind of) public:
Thanks to an anonymous tipster, here’s a video seemingly from last year’s Titanic theme party at Ivy, the Princeton eating club. One of their many theme parties throughout the year, this one involves a chosen Jack and Rose, seen being Jack and Rose here. Seniors dress up as first-class passengers, juniors as second-class, and newly minted Ivy sophomores as third-class passengers. Because if there’s anything Princeton loves, it’s clearly defined class statuses.
Another Ivy League secret society came under fire for holding a high-risk party–this time over at Princeton, where all but two officers of the eating club Tiger Inn resigned after fallout for hosting a 21 Club party last Sunday. The 21 Club is a semi-secret society (what does that even mean anymore?) whose membership is made up of some of the biggest drunkards on campus. According to the Daily Princetonian, “During initiations, members reportedly have to drink 21 beers in 42 minutes, and the goal is to be the last one to throw up.”
Back in 1973, Princeton’s venerable Cannon Club–not a backwoods haunt for Civil War reenacters, but an eating club for swanky Tigers–sadly shut its doors for good. Or did it? Yes, it did. Or did it? Yes, it did. Or did it? Yes, it motherfucking did, for the love of God.
…OR DID IT?
No, it did not! Aha! After about a bazillion empty threats to reopen over the past few years, the Cannon Club is finally, finally, finally going to resume its status as a glorified mess hall for Princeton keg warriors. The graduate trustee board–ever the eager spokesgroup–has sent an email to Princeton freshmen announcing the return of the club during the 2011-2012 academic year. The club been rebranded the Cannon Dial Elm Club following a consolidation with the nearby Dial Lodge and Elm Club (two other defunct eating clubs). It will be as exclusive as it’s always pretended to be, with an acceptance estimate of roughly 110 students.
And this time, the board is serious when they say it’s back. We know that because they used caps lock a lot, like when they wrote this:
WE ENCOURAGE YOU TO COMPLETE AND SUBMIT YOUR APPLICATION THIS SPRING AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. YOU SHOULD NOT WAIT UNTIL NEXT FALL.
Don’t wait! Apply today! Tomorrow the building may be blasted into oblivion by a gigantic spaceship full of alien muskrats. You should probably email your application, because all paper will likely be incinerated. But wait, there’s more!
Being an Ivy League student can be pretty stressful, no? So many J.Press receipts to sort through, so many candlelit wine-and-cheese poetry readings to attend, so much…a cappella. God, I feel like I need a brown paper bag just thinking about it.
Luckily for us all, we can take comfort in the fact that Princeton students are infinitely more stressed-out we could ever imagine. At least that’s the word according to Kelsey Zimmerman, a columnist for the Daily Princetonian, and living proof that Princeton kids should be forced to take mandatory Rumspringas to see what the real world is like. In a recent column about stress, Zimmerman writes:
After thinking it over, I quickly came to the conclusion that Princeton students are more stressed than the majority of college students. Of course, we deal with a lot of the same stressors that most college students do — grades, relationships, financial concerns. But Princeton students also face a lot of unique stressors.
Like what, I wonder? Distress at being beasted in the application race by Columbia? Anxiety about the impending demise of The Dinky Train From Hell? High cholesterol? Fear of the color orange? But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Here’s what Zimmerman poetically identifies as Princeton’s unique, brain-warping panic-button-pushers:
1) Princeton’s pricey(about $50,000 a year). Shock and woe! The hair on our eyebrows just got singed off from the sheer fiery unexpectedness of that number. We have no idea what our own tuitions are, but given the quality of our brainwaves, we suspect they’re about $2.99 plus tax.
2) Princeton’s hard. Heck, some people might even be smarter than you are, which could make your head explode if you don’t watch out. Plus some professors are big meanie heads. Poooo.
3) Princeton has a stupid academic calendar. We actually agree with this one. Forcing students to take exams after winter break is a great way to send them scurrying off to join America’s Next Top Model or whatever.
Fortunately, Zimmerman points out, there are plenty of tricks to alleviate Princeton Paranoia. Exhibit A: meditation lunches. Whatever the hell those are. She doesn’t mention eating clubs, but presumably gorging yourself into a diabetic coma is another way to avoid taking midterms.
Okay, we’re going to go out on a limb here. If Princeton’s more stressed than the rest of us, it might be because columns like these bode ill for the survival of Princetonkind. Survival of the fittest, guys.
How Will Princeton Grad Meg Whitman Explain Her Princeton Failure Sons in Her California Governor Election?
“If you ask me who I am, my first response is I am my mother’s daughter”
These are the words of Meg Whitman straight from her campaign video. Meg is running for Governor of California. She just won the GOP primary and will be facing Jerry Brown, the California Attorney General who is running a campaign based on his frugal ways (in comparison to Meg’s prodigal spending). Meg’s campaign is based on her leadership skills, years of being a powerful executive, and “cleaning up the mess those politicians have made in Sacramento.” Family is also important for Meg, which is why her two sons must be such a disappointment to her. On her campaign site, Meg mentions her Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum sons Will and Griff:
Meg has committed her energy, her trademark optimism and her belief in fiscal restraint to the challenge of rebuilding California. She has done so with the full support of her family, which is her greatest source of pride. Meg and her husband, Griff, a neurosurgeon at Stanford Hospital, have been married for nearly 30 years. Their two sons are now young adults. Meg and her family are ardent outdoor enthusiasts who love hiking, skiing, fly fishing and enjoying all of California’s natural treasures. “If we let California fail, we all fail,” she says. “And we love California too much to let it fail. We have to work together to make it the place of our dreams again.”
Cute! Her family is going to help her save California from failing! If only her sons could have figured out how not to fail Princeton, get kicked out of boarding schools, and shroud momma’s campaign in the kind of wealthy entitlement we all love to hate. First there was son Griff Harsh V. With such a pretentious, hoity-toity name, can Griffy really be blamed for this alleged quote which Gawker picked up after Griff got suspended from Princeton for a year?
Overheard at Charter [eating club]
Griff Harsh (Meg Whitman’s son) throws beer in Guy’s face.
Guy: You can’t do that to people.
Griff Harsh (points at himself): Billionaire.
Then there’s Will Harsh I. Gawker, ever the Ivy-obsessives, found this out from a tip:
Griff’s non-refundable membership to Cottage [eating club] was paid in full when he got suspended. So some of the officers would let Will attend some meals and formals events in his brother’s place until Will got banned from there.
The story goes that Will yelled “what are all these niggers doing here” one night when all the members of the Black Arts Company where there to celebrate a show they had performed. Cottage is know as one of the whiter clubs on campus so I assume that he was shocked to see so many black people there in a night. He was already on notice with Cottage officers because of an altercation he started with a bouncer early in the year.
Guest-of-a-guest got this equally rumor-based tip about Will:
“He’s just a tool. He was banned from at least one eating club for calling a girl a racial slur. He would pride himself on having several ‘girlfriends’ at one time, and tried unsuccessfully to be a player. He was actually independent (not in an eating club) which I always assumed was because no one wanted him or he was banned. OH and I almost forgot about the time he refused to introduce a girlfriend to his family because she was Jewish, and didn’t meet his standards of intellect. He may have thrown in fat, too. I can’t remember. Really classy.”
Okay. These seem like pretty gossipy rumors, but these stories seem all too indicative of what kind of people Meg Whitman’s sons are. And then, pardon our frequent Gawker references, there’s this possibility that Meg (who is the fourth richest woman in California) is actually getting campaign donors to pay Tweedle Dee (Griff)’s allowance through a mysterious payment to Solamere, a private equity firm that Whitman’s campaign has paid close to $96,000 in the past four months. Interesting. Because Griff used to ‘work’ at Solamere as an ‘analyst’ according to an old Linkedin profile:
Would it really be that out of character for former eBay CEO, current billionare Meg? Well, there was the time she donated $30 million in her name to help build the new Whitman residential college. Of course, according to Meg, it was all for her love of Princeton and excitement to be able to expand the school by 500 students. Or maybe it was just so she could convince Princeton to admit one student: Griff would be applying to Princeton just two years after donation, just in time to live in freshly built Whitman College. Griff had supposedly been kicked out of boarding schools before getting to Princeton, so a little $30 million nudge from Princeton board member mom probably couldn’t have hurt his application.
How will Meg hide her boys from yelling racial slurs or pointing out the obvious fact that they’re richer than most people out there on the campaign trail? Whitman’s already getting criticized for unnecessary spending on the campaign trail, but maybe paying them off or buying them a job would do the trick.
If you know anything further about Will or Griff Harsh (who have pretty amazing internet hiding skills) please send an email to the tip line!
A tipster sends us an email from Princeton’s University Cottage Club to its members on a theme party whose “theme” seems to be the dissolution of the relationship between sign and signified. UCC’s joint social with the Ivy club was based on the “jock/hipsters” dichotomy, truly one for the ages (we guess “golf pros/tennis hos” has lost its pop in a post-Woods era?)… but as “hipsters,” “UCC will be dressed in our posh, NYC private school uniforms.”
We thought Princeton was for smart people? I mean, obviously there are no actual hipsters in New Jersey, but these people have read the internet, yes? (Ivy’s idea of “jocks” is little better — let’s assume that only at Princeton do jocks do “hot yoga.”) Let’s assume they’re not anthropology majors.
Full email after the jump.
Guest of a Guest recently made some conclusions about where the Princeton diaspora settles once they hit New York. Breaking down the New York hot spots by the Eating Club alums who hang out there, the article does an alarmingly good job at calling the Tigers stripes.
First of all, eating clubs are all too Princetonian to begin with. At Brown, the “bohemian eating club” is the city of Providence, but we’ve never harbored the illusion that society at Princeton was neatly regimented enough to contain Mean Girls-style cliques. Don’t all eating clubs have exactly the same sort of people — Princetonians?
No, there are many different types of Tigers outside the Amory Blaine archetype. It’s convenient that they’re going from the nation’s most socially stratified campus to its most socially stratified city: one-to-one comparisons between the top-shelf Ivy club and the equally prestigious Rose Bar flourish.
Other highlights are the spot-on Princeton-to-Williamsburg assumptions:
Preppy Princeton might not overflow with bohemians, but the school’s soon-to-be-starving artists probably eat up at the Terrace Club’s buffet. You can find Terrace alums chains-moking at grungy/artsy venues like Glasslands, Union Pool and Galapagos or trying to catch a big break with their band at Mercury Lounge or Cake Shop.
After the jump, see what the bloggers had to say about Tiger Inn, eBay founder Meg Whitman’s son, and your mom.
Having already checked “most intensely elitist document ever to grace the Ivy League” off its to-do list, Princeton now brings you “douchiest party flier this side of the Milky Way.” Spotted on campus: A flier promoting a Linkin Park concert at Princeton’s Cottage Club. (click to enlarge)
Now, the event alone would constitute a fearsome level of douchebaggery. (If you don’t understand why, may we suggest watching this cache of Dragon Ball Z clips set to Linkin Park music, followed by this video of Princeton kids dancing.) But, did they really substitute crucifixes for the t’s? And are those really lacrosse sticks bedazzling the bottom corners? On any other week we’d give them the benefit of the doubt— there must be some level of self awareness to this, right? self-loathing irony? clipartsy joke?— but between this week’s hopelessly pathetic student elections and other tragic losses, we’ve lost all faith in the Princeton Man and his ability to do, well, anything without falling all over himself.
UPDATE: It was a prank! Hallelujah, there’s hope for Princeton after all, so long as someone forcibly removed from campus all the sad kids who actually attempted to attend this concert, at the sad eating club where such a prank is actually feasible. Princeton, you continue to be a farcical embarrassment, in all the right and most delighted ways.
Some backstory: Will Scharf ’08, the former President of one of Princeton’s eating clubs, was charged last December with providing alcohol to minors and maintaining a nuisance. The charges grew out of an unrelated investigation into a brawl between two girls. One girl poured beer on another, and the first struck the second.
But the Borough attempted to coerce these students into testifying against the eating-club as a way of avoiding the law themselves. So instead of charging the two female malefactors, the Borough charged Scharf even though the club had bodyguards and a working wrist-band system in place that night.
In a press-release provided in advance to IvyGate, Scharf’s tough-named lawyer Rocco Cipparone breaks it all down:
Cipparone noted that apparently it has been a pattern of the Borough Police to charge an individual officer of an eating club, only to later dismiss the charges when the eating club itself agrees to take responsibility and admit liability for the charges originally levied against the individual.
It’s an old game and a dirty one. But Scharf, however, declined to play. Rocco declares that Scharf, “was not willing to be used by the Borough Police as leverage against his Club, in derogation of his individual rights and civil liberties.” Bravo!
After the jump — “false arrest, malicious prosecution, and federal civil rights violations.”
UPDATE: The Prince just picked the story up. There’s additional legal info and commentary from Cipparone to be found, if you’re interested.