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Hanging Out Up There

Life in the Jordan Co-ops

Hidden on the outskirts of the Radcliffe Quad, beyond the route of the shuttle bus, lie two squat concrete structures which might escape notice altogether except for smells of dinner cooking which draw an influx of students around 5 p.m. each evening.

Fifty-one students call these buildings home. They are the Jordan Co-ops, Harvard's alternative to House living, which allow students to cook their own meals and perform household chores for a reduced board fee.

Founded in 1961 by then Radcliffe President Wilbur K. Jordan '28, the co-ops still bear Jordan's legacy in the letters identifying each of the three buildings: "W." "K." and "J." their founder's initials. But life in the co-ops and the type of people attracted to co-op living have changed since the presidency of Jordan, who believed that learning to cook and manage a household was valuable preparation for Radcliffe women.

"Cooperative living is an experience not unconnected with the process of an education and what excellent wives [Radcliffe students] will make," Jordan told the first residents of the co-ops during their dedication ceremony.

With the advent of the hippie generation in the late 60's and the admission of men to the co-ops in 1971, the rather prim, homemaker atmosphere was radically changed. Instead of lambchops and steaks, the menu changed to vegetarian dishes. The custom of serving after-dinner coffee in the living room was forgotten, and the "beau room" became the coed TV room. Today, the only remnant of the co-ops' single-sex era is a "men" sign on the first-floor bathroom.

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Today' co-op students still cook the meals and cleans the building, but many of them are men and their philosophy is usually a far cry from Jordan's attitude on the purpose of the co-ops.

"There is no Jordan J party line, but a lot of people here are involved in the peace movement, in women's issues, in working with refugees," says resident Sarah Browning '85.

In a way, the Jordan Co-ops are a refuge and a new experience for Harvard students. They are small--around 18 students live in each of the buildings.

Co-op residents pay the same rent as other Harvard students but only about one-third as much for board as dorm residents do. The students used to pay directly to the co-op, but this practice was eliminated last year and residents now pay board to Harvard, which then allots the appropriate funds to each of the co-ops' student secretaries.

In return for spending about eight hours a week on household chores, co-op students are guaranteed a wide range of benefits, from home-cooked meals that surpass standard dining hall fare to single rooms, their own laundry room and a continuous supply of beer provided by the "beer czar" whose duty is to keep the refrigerator well-stocked.

What attracts students to the co-ops, though, is frequently the sense of community that pervades life at the co-ops.

"I was afraid I was going to graduate knowing 500 people casually but not knowing anybody well," says Browning. "Here you have the chance to develop much stronger friendships than you do in the Houses."

The sense of community is clearest in the events that surround cooking the dinner. Co-op residents must fend for themselves for breakfast and lunch, but dinner is a communal affair. Although all the co-ops are equipped with large common rooms complete with fireplaces and in some cases TV, the central gathering place for the residents is the kitchen, where co-opers begin drifting in at the end of the day.

"You learn to cook amazing meals, but more than that you develop a sense of community [through the chores]. It's like a family here--you really get to know the other co-op residents and they form your support network," says Browning, adding, "Besides, if you were living in a house, you'd spend that time hanging out with your friends anyway. Cooking dinner with someone is just another way of hanging out. In fact, around here you have to guard against hanging out too much."

As Alyson Denny '85 stirs an enormous wok full of green peppers in the kitchen, a large cassette player fills the room with the sounds of jazz piano, while another student chef rolls out graham cracker dough for the evening dessert. Other coopers wander in to find out what's for dinner, or actually just to hang out. The conversation runs from thesis topics to music to TV.

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