By: Ryan Harrington
Churchill Tower, the building we all love to hate has actually – I think – been the best spot on campus all along.
Where else on campus can you find your favorite professors stacked for your convenience?
Why do I love Churchill? The reasons are plentiful: I love the hideous brown brick that matches nothing; the orange carpet inexplicably in some classrooms, but not others; and those garish marble benches that have no place in the lobby of an office building. I love the elevator, where every ride might be your last; and most of all, I love that even though the building has no corners, everything inside it is shoved into one.
When I cross the threshold from Old Main into the shadowlands of Churchill, I feel like one false step will send heaps of books pouring off cluttered shelves to crush professors in their cozy pie-shaped offices. Everything is teetering close to disrepair, but never actually broken.
I think Churchill knows it’s vile too. When you open the door to either restroom, moans in agony screech out at you, as if its existence causes it as much pain as it causes us.
We’ll never tear it down because of the cost, loss of office space and the giant hole it’d leave in the ground that would make removing it almost as stupid as building it to begin with. The tower will last as long as Canisius does.
I could spend hours pondering that ghastly Godless abomination, but questions are superfluous. What is Churchill…? Why does Churchill…? There aren't any answers.
The one important question is: what is Canisius without that giant brown battery?
Churchill is the most Canisius thing I can imagine. It’s a perfect representation of our university’s ability to complete tasks. Need office space? Slap a giant pole of offices smack in front of your main building. Need parking? Tear down the parking garage and replace it with half a lot and a pointless expanse of weeds. It’s perfect!
Churchill is so repugnant that students cannot fathom it was wanted. The best legend is that a wealthy Lutheran paid for it to be built as an insult to the Catholic Church. In reality, an architect designed Churchill, trustees approved it and students failed to make enough noise to prevent it.
Beyond the great Catholic tradition of blaming Protestants for our own folly, this legend reveals something deeper about that horcrux of Jesuit education – human nature is fickle; things enjoyed now may one day become obsolete.
While some trends come back into style, that ghoulish specter begotten by the sins of architects throughout the ages never will. Churchill unites us.
That phallic fountain of knowledge has a great contribution to the community atmosphere at Canisius. There are legends, memes and now, satirical articles about Churchill. We know the next crop of Griffs are ready to roar when they tease the tower – it’s a sacrament of initiation.
Laughter is the best medicine, and what is togetherness without universal mockery?
When I pass the tower’s grim, grinning visage, I can’t help but smile. The building is so ugly that it’s actually fun. In a way, I’m glad we get to laugh at Churchill Tower every year. The tower is part of us. It reminds us not to take life too seriously and that one day our greatest accomplishment might be mocked by generations of students. That is Churchill Tower’s beautiful gift.
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