As a freshman at Yale, the other ringing memorial was the names of the young men carved on the walls of Woolsey Hall. They made me think of my own good fortune to come unscathed through three years of wartime service. Although I’ve been to France three times since then, I still have on my bucket list to see those killing fields and visit the grave site of a great uncle who had the misfortune to die between the signing of the armistice and its effective date. I believe that admission at Yale should be accompanied by a requirement for some significant community service. More than anything, this requirement would select for and build character.
– David Ezzio
Is there anything more magnificent than the War Memorial outside Commons or the names of those who fell in combat inside the entrance to Woolsey? It’s a grim reminder of a different kind of Yalie. How long until political correctness requires that the names of the Confederate soldiers get chiseled off the walls?
– Terry Jackson
The Woolsey Hall Rotunda acted as a threshold that separated living from working. On one side were the residential colleges, the old campus, Hendrie Hall, the gym, and the Broadway and York Street retail corridor, places where I lived my life and learned primarily from the people I encountered. On the other side were classrooms, labs and most important for me, the Math Department in Leet Oliver, places where academic pursuits dominated, where my mind was stretched, and where great scholars held court. Crossing that threshold several times each day helped ease me into the world I was approaching.
– David Perlman