The Unveiling of Marx Hall

Marx Hall is not actually a Hall in and by itself, it was an annex, grafted on to the eastern facade of 1879 Hall.  

Since it ceased to be a dormitory for Princeton’s gentlemen students and their servants, the eastern half of 1879 Hall houses Philosophy, while its western half has Religion.  The two are separated by a  imposing, not to say intimidating, archway.  Above the arch Woodrow Wilson had his office, till the alumni got rid of him for wanting to interfere with the eating clubs.  It has a fireplace large enough to roast lambs, and was given to Philosophy for its faculty meetings, social gatherings, and — during some years rather out of the ordinary — raucous parties. And then, in 1992, came the announcement that there was to be a grafting-on of a new and modern space, for a Center for Human Values.

“What is the intended contrast?” my friend Martin from the English department asked.  “Will there be center for inhuman values, I wonder?”  He had probably noticed that I was a bit disgruntled, for it meant losing my office.  I did, and actually never got it back, its handsome fireplace and window seat were just right for a department lounge.

At the completion of the new Hall, though, there was going to be a grand ceremony for its opening.  The president and a vice-president of the university, the relevant dean, and the donors.  Unlike the donors’ appearance in medieval paintings, humbly marginalized in the company of saints, these donors were the saints who made it all possible.  The physical entity, the annex, was to be named after its donor, Louis Marx Jr., and multiple aspects of the Center’s intellectual embodiment after its donor, Laurance S. Rockefeller.  Both would be present to be honored, thanked, and feted to celebrate the opening.

A sort of bandstand was constructed just outside, in the yard, and we all gathered around there, realizing that there would be no wine till after the ceremony, which could not be brief given the number of speeches that it had, of necessity, to involve. As they climbed on the platform I located the donors by a process of elimination, two men, one taller than the other, rather a commanding figure, the shorter one grinning amiably.  President Shapiro’s speech quickly identified the taller as Rockefeller, with whom I was rather intrigued at the time, knowing of his interest in the UFO mysteries.  Shapiro referred appreciatively to Rockefeller’s 1932 senior thesis The Concept of Value and its Relation to Ethics, still available for reading in the Mudd Manuscript Library.  The other administrators mentioned this too, and all had gracious things to say about Louis Marx Jr., though with no mention of scholastic prowess.  One did mention that Louis had been a member of the Cottage Club.  I thought I could sense a reluctance in the remark; even then, in 1993, the eating clubs’ disturbing record of debauchery was hard to keep quiet.  The sincerity of the thanks and admiration was overwhelming. Such happenings are not choreographed, but it could not have been more consistent if it had been.  My friend Martin did not see it the same way. “They are whores”, Martin was saying beside me, “they are whores!”

When Rockefeller got up to speak, there was not much need for him to say much, for he was at once presented with a gift, in honor of the occasion, of a painting.  It was, perhaps surprisingly, wrapped and taped up in packing paper, as if it had been meant to reach him through the post.  After a moment’s perplexity Rockefeller forcefully attacked the wrapping.  Someone was bringing up an implement, a knife or scissors, but paper was already flying everywhere, frustratingly resisting tape pulled off forcibly over the edges, and Rockefeller held up the picture in triumph.  Hard to remember what it was, I trust it was something appropriate.

Louis Marx Jr. did not receive a gift, understandably perhaps since it was he who was giving us this great brick artifice.  But he was very excited to speak.  He was so glad to be back, looking back to 1953 when actually it had been touch and go whether he would graduate.  He was not in the regular graduation ceremony but had a special hearing, with a committee that included very important people (do I correctly remember his mentioning Dulles and Eisenhower?), and he got his degree.  He was laughing a lot about what a bad boy he had been, how he had shrugged off the deadline on senior theses (and here he was!  donating a whole building to his once reluctant alma mater!).  The president was smiling, the dean was smiling, indulgently.  What a turn of events, what a come back for the black sheep of Princeton ’53!  With a campus building now to bear his name.

The final speaker was the Philosophy chairman, Paul Benacerraf, a man I admired greatly.  So I was apprehensive, was he going to join this chorus, this genuflection?  His first few sentences were praise for the enhancement of political and social philosophy that the Center would bring about on our campus.  

Then he said he wanted to take the opportunity to speak in the memory of a philosopher who had been a guiding light in our community, and had recently died, Gregory Vlastos.  After relating Vlastos’ memory to the topic of human values (I quite forget just how he did that) he spoke of Vlastos’ conviction that matters of the intellect should always have priority over any material concern.  Vlastos, as chairman of the department, had insisted that resources should go to encouraging study, scholarship, understanding, if necessary at the cost of any improvement of our physical embodiment in 1879 Hall … words to this effect … 

I doubt that anyone on the podium took in what Paul was saying, but I certainly did.

This past fall, a quarter of a century later, The Daily Princetonian of October 16, 2019, included an announcement from the university’s Office of Communications. Marx Hall will be renamed,  “because the donor’s circumstances have changed, making him unable to fulfill his fundraising pledge.”