During our hiatus, Rob and I found ourselves in NorCal again, this time in Palo Alto. And with an afternoon to kill between engagements, we decided to swing by Stanford University because...well, I actually came here once several years ago, but it was a very brief visit and returning has always felt like unfinished business, basically. So now that I had a bit more time, it seemed like a prime opportunity to tour the home of the Cardinal! (The color, not the bird.)
Around here, there’s an old story that tells of the president of Harvard reluctantly meeting with a couple who were petitioning to donate a building in honor of their recently deceased son and wouldn’t leave until he granted them an audience. The president took one look at the shabby, travel-worn pair and dismissively told them the steep cost of Harvard’s multimillion-dollar real estate...at which point the woman turned to her husband and suggested that for that price, why not simply found their own university? And then the couple—Leland Stanford, Sr., railroad magnate, U.S. Senator, and former governor of California, and his wife Jane—returned to the West Coast and did just that.
The story itself is untrue, but it endures in the folklore because one, it’s a good yarn, and two, the central detail is true. In 1884, the Stanfords’ only son died of typhoid while the family was touring Europe, and in memory of his academic pursuits, his parents resolved to establish a college in his name. Seven years later, the doors opened at Leland Stanford Junior University—usually just Stanford University, sometimes “the Farm”—and while the elder Leland died not long after, Jane took the reins and guided the school through its rocky early phase, ultimately setting it on the path to becoming a world-renowned institution with an impressive list of faculty and alumni and that was named by Forbes as the top school in the country this past summer.
Not a bad legacy for a boy who was two months shy of his 16th birthday. And now to run amok all over it.
As it happens, Stanford is huge: It sprawls over nearly 8,200 acres, making it one of the largest contiguous campuses anywhere. Meaning there was really only time for me to see a few highlights, so why not start at the top of the list? Memorial Church—dedicated by Jane Stanford to her husband after his passing—is the architectural and spiritual anchor to Stanford’s Main Quad, as well as the visual point of focus when you’re coming up Palm Drive. In keeping with the school’s secularity, “MemChu” is actually nondenominational despite the iconography, which Jane Stanford chose for its humanitarian imagery more than anything else. Unfortunately for me, though, the church was closed for an alum wedding that day. Or maybe somebody tipped them off that I was coming, who knows.
Still, I took a moment to pause and take in the view from the Quad’s central rosette. The Full Moon on the Quad tradition holds that freshmen aren’t full-fledged Stanford students until they kiss a senior under the light of the first full moon of the school year here, although that doesn’t stop other classes from partaking as well. It wasn’t gonna happen for me, obviously—it was broad daylight, there were no girl rabbits in sight, and I’m not a student anyway. And, I suppose, never will be. I mean, you’d think a progressive school with an endowment in the billions would make at least some kind of token outreach to the woodland community, but no.
In any case, a short hop from the Quad is the Farm’s other most iconic building: Hoover Tower, named for President Herbert Hoover, who was not only an alum but part of that very first graduating class of 1895. The Hoover Institution Library is housed here, but for the casual visitor, the main attractions are the collection of Hoover-related artifacts in the lobby and the fourteenth-floor observation deck above. So: Everybody cram into the express elevator!
Yeah, not a bad view from any angle—this is the side facing east. Hellooooo, Silicon Valley! Apparently with the right visibility, you can actually see San Francisco from up here, but on this day I don’t think we could see much farther north than, like, San Carlos. Not the same. Plus we had to clear out before the carillon sounded the hour—someone with ears like mine can’t very well afford to be at close range when that sort of thing goes off.
Time for a quick lunch break! Tresidder Student Union has a regular food court, but I opted to duck out the back for the mood lighting and low-key vibe of the CoHo instead. Even if I can’t have the full student experience, at least I can get something a little homier than mall food, right?
And while I was in the vicinity, I decided to swing by the bookstore. The thing about a campus this large is that if you don’t have a car—and a lot of students don’t, especially those from out of state—then you’re essentially landlocked, with only your bike to get you to University Avenue or the Stanford Shopping Center. So it helps to have a bookstore with a more extensive inventory than your average JC until you can catch a ride from somebody who does have a car. How extensive an inventory? Look—just my size!
Rob and I still had some time left, so next we stopped by the Rodin Sculpture Garden attached to the Cantor Center for Visual Arts. Rodin’s Burghers of Calais reside in the Quad—and good luck taking a photo of those without tourists constantly getting in the way—but the heart of the bronze collection is here, including ye olde show-stopper, The Gates of Hell, as well as the companion Adam and Eve statues flanking it and a life-size version of the Three Shades you see at the top of the gate and who, up close, really just look like the dourest doo-wop group ever.
Should I knock or just go straight in?
Actually, I did neither—I just went around it to see what was on the other side and...nada. Well, that’s an eschatological letdown!
Nice day that it was, it was sort of tempting go fountain hopping—another school tradition—especially since the Claw in White Plaza and the Red Hoop here in front of the Cecil H. Green Library were right along our tour path. But that being a bad idea for someone with fur, I settled for investigating Green itself, the largest of Stanford’s libraries. A visitor can sign up for seven library day passes per year, and far be it from me not to take advantage of that!
All right, so—Green alone houses some four million volumes in its two wings, but I can narrow that field quite a bit with the keywords “rabbit studies” at a search terminal. So I get my list of results, head off to the stacks, and...
...erm. Well, good thing I can come back six more times, because I’m clearly gonna need a dedicated return trip. And a step stool.
But no matter—I still wanted to make two other stops anyhow, both a bit more out of the way. Maybe if I’d had another day or three, I could’ve gotten up to the Dish, Jasper Ridge, and the linear accelerator as well, but it just wasn’t in the cards this time. Also, uh, I couldn’t get clearance for that last one.
Instead, if you’re wondering where the “Farm” nickname came from, it’s because the land that was used for the campus was originally just that—the Stanfords’ horse farm. And one of the remnants of that past is the Red Barn, just outside the residential core and between the tennis courts and golf course—you’ll know it by the statue of Electioneer, Governor Stanford’s champion stud, out front. And, well, the big red barn.
In fact, even before the school was founded, the farm had some significance, since it’s where Eadweard Muybridge conducted his famous Sallie Gardner at a Gallop photographic experiment. The Red Barn’s no museum, however—it serves as the Stanford Equestrian Center, plus locals can stable their horses here, seeing as Palo Alto’s not really known for its wide open spaces. I took a bit of a stroll around, but I didn’t get too close to any of the residents—carrots on my breath doesn’t automatically mean carrots in my possession, and I didn’t want anybody getting any ideas. Especially the bite-y kind.
As for the other stop, well, that was a little more somber. Tucked away in a shady grove not far from the Stanford Hospital is the mausoleum where the three Stanfords rest. It’s also where the campus Halloween party is held every year, but I thought it’d be good to pay my respects in a quieter moment.
It’s a lovely campus, guys. Hope the kids aren’t too out of control this yea...ah, you’re used to it.
And that was it for this visit to LSJU, as Rob and I were meeting friends for dinner. There was no shortage of old-school joints to choose from, from Applewood and the Oasis to Max’s Opera Café and Jing Jing. But the only thing I really insisted on was a trip to Kepler’s afterward, followed by a frosted mocha or four at Café Borrone. After which I was so hopped up that I was almost able to drive us back to L.A. on my own.
Until next time, Stanford...even if it probably won’t be because I’m enrolling there. I can dream, though. Hey, I could be the first rabbit in SLE! Ha, no, I kid—college is supposed to be fun, after all. Die Luft der Freiheit weht!
