I
’ll be honest — signing a lease next
to one of the largest fraternities on
campus was a massive mistake,
especially as someone unaffiliated with
social Greek life. Over the past year, I’ve
learned to fall asleep to the thumping of
the bass on Theta Chi’s speakers on ran-
dom Tuesday nights and adjusted to rou-
tinely throwing their trash back into their
backyard from mine, only to watch squir-
rels and other wildlife rummage through
their abandoned beer, food, boxes and
plastic containers.
Admittedly, I should have considered
who my neighbors would be before I
moved into a house with the fraternity’s
satellite houses in its backyard. I haven’t
complained much throughout my time
living here for that reason. However,
observing their behavior amid a pandem-
ic has been revolting. In fact, this column
was inspired by the large party that gath-
ered in their backyard on Thursday, June
25, mirroring what fraternity parties
looked like on campus before COVID-19.
While on a slightly smaller scale, their
backyard was flocked with people danc-
ing and, needless to say, not bothering to
follow social distancing guidelines.
Frankly, this isn’t at all surprising.
There’s a constant plethora of controver-
sy surrounding both University-affiliated
and unaffiliated fraternities on campus.
Many of our fraternities have count-
less accusations of alcohol abuse, sexual
assault, racism and hazing. In 2018, six
fraternities, including Theta Chi, vol-
untarily disaffiliated from the Univer-
sity of Michigan due to changes in Ann
Arbor zoning requirements that would
force them to actually face repercussions
for their irresponsible and loathsome
actions. Still, I had some hope that these
fraternity brothers, who are receiving a
world-renowned education from a uni-
versity with one of the best public health
programs in the world, would act some-
what responsibly and display at least a hint
of their high-quality schooling during this
pandemic. The party I involuntarily wit-
nessed from my bedroom window proves
not only my own naivety but also Univer-
sity President Mark Schlissel’s.
Theta Chi’s latest disappointing dis-
plays of entitlement and foolishness
are likely a result of Schissel’s recent
announcement to have an in-residence
fall semester. Although it’s clear to any
knowledgeable being that these plans are
only provisional — reliant on a continued
flattening of the curve — these brothers
still believe that the best way to respond
to the University’s recently announced
plans for the fall semester is to throw par-
ties. Schissel’s faith in students, especially
those involved in social Greek life, to con-
tinue social distancing after returning to
campus shows that his ignorance nearly
matches that of the Theta Chi brothers.
His false optimism, if left unchecked,
will lead to even more parties like these
throughout the upcoming semesters.
Unfortunately, as stated above, Theta
Chi has made their determination to
avoid any consequences for their actions
clear by disaffiliating with the University,
making it all the more difficult to hold
them accountable. For affiliated fraterni-
ties, the University and the Interfrater-
nity Council can — and should — ban all
social engagements and Greek life activ-
ity in general for the upcoming semesters.
Clearly, if left to their own devices, many
of these students will prioritize their
desire to binge drink and party exces-
sively over the health and safety of their
peers as well as faculty, staff and residents
of Ann Arbor. Their inability to care about
anything outside of themselves will be on
full display.
However, for Theta Chi, other unaffili-
ated fraternities and those that will inevi-
tably disaffiliate when told that they have
to forego their precious parties, this self-
ishness will lack consequence. In order to
change that, the city of Ann Arbor holds
the responsibility of enacting and enforc-
ing ordinances that will discourage large
parties from occurring — not only for
fraternities but also for co-ops and house
parties thrown by the general student
population. Currently, this would require
police to increase patrolling the city for
parties. Hopefully, the city can enlist a
committee of sorts independent of the
police to enforce this. Until the Univer-
sity defunds and divests from their police
department, though, they’ll likely be on
party patrol.
Undoubtedly, if we are to have an in-
residence fall semester, the University
should place as many bans as possible on
both affiliated and unaffiliated fraterni-
ties in order to discourage parties. Out-
side of that, and in addition to action being
taken by the city of Ann Arbor, the cam-
pus culture should normalize condemn-
ing large parties in the name of public
safety. We must discourage our friends
and classmates from attending and call
out our fraternity neighbors for throwing
them (I’m looking at you, Theta Chi). It’s
imperative that we force Greek life to face
their hypocrisy of throwing these parties
despite their desire to return to campus
this fall. They must be reminded that they
aren’t the only students on campus or the
only residents of this city.
I’m well aware that I sound like the
last person you’d want to invite to a party.
Believe me, I don’t want the invite. I’ve
enjoyed my fair share of fraternity parties
and nights out in Ann Arbor.
5
Theta Chi’s party threatens an on-campus fall
ELAYNA SWIFT | COLUMNIST
Elayna Swift can be reached at
elaynads@umich.edu.
MAX LUBELL | OP-ED
W
hen I first learned
Espresso Royale was
closing all of its loca-
tions in early June, it felt like just
another thing fighting for my atten-
tion. Amid the global COVID-19
pandemic and Black Lives Matter
protests following the killings of
George Floyd and Breonna Tay-
lor — only two examples of white
supremacy that have sparked recent
uprisings — the news that the cof-
fee chain was closing seemed rath-
er insignificant. That’s not to say
Espresso Royale’s closing, or the
closing of any business predicted to
not make it through the pandemic,
won’t have a real impact for some of
the 38.1 million Americans employed
in the service and retail industries hit
the hardest. Still, Espresso Royale’s
closing did not seem like the great-
est cause for concern at the time.
As I have had more time to reflect
on the news, I am left with all of my
memories sitting at Espresso Royale,
an incredibly important place for me
and many of my peers throughout
college. It was where we would study
on countless mornings, afternoons,
evenings and late nights; met with
friends in between classes; went on
or observed awkward first dates and
organized to work on group projects.
Espresso Royale was a reliable study
spot where you were bound to run
into people you knew.
While my peers and I ostensibly
went to Espresso Royale to study, my
favorite memories there were when
we barely got any work done at all.
You could always count on finding
someone to talk to when you were
avoiding homework. As a very extro-
verted person who loves to procras-
tinate, I would often go to Espresso
Royale between classes, even when
I had no work to do, just to take ref-
uge from the cold and find someone
to chat with for a couple of minutes.
While I stared at blank Word docu-
ments hoping my essay would type
itself, I got to talk with friends or
acquaintances about what was
new in our lives, how we felt about
school, where we were coming
from and where we wanted to go.
Since Espresso Royale was open
until 11 p.m., we took shelter there
for hours on end.
During my junior year, I found
myself bewildered by how much
time my peers and I had spent
at Espresso Royale’s State Street
location, or ERSSL as we would
commonly abbreviate it. It was
impossible to walk into ERSSL with-
out seeing at least three people you
knew. One night — while I was once
again procrastinating completing my
course readings — I took this bewil-
derment online.
On Feb. 20, 2017, a fellow Michi-
gan Daily opinion editor and I start-
ed the Espresso Royale (State Street)
Fan Club Facebook Group, an unof-
ficial fan page for people — mainly
myself — to post Espresso Royale
memes and commentary. The posts
in our unofficial fan club ranged
from a variety of topics: jokes about
Espresso Royale’s renovations or the
infamous “coffee12” wifi password,
photos of people drinking Espresso
Royale in their 8 a.m. class, questions
about how much to tip for a $2.50
latte and general posts about the
Espresso Royale experience. There
weren’t any rules dictating what
was appropriate to post, as long
as it was Espresso Royale-related.
Despite the page never gaining
more than 342 members, I reveled
in the local fandom and small-town
popularity the group provided
me, loving the attention I got from
strangers who grew to know me as
“the Espresso Royale guy.”
While it was all just for fun, our
devotion to Espresso Royale left me
with the same question that inspired
me to start the page in the first place:
Why the hell do we spend so much
time at this coffee shop? My peers
and I must have clocked hundreds
of hours each at ERSSL. Given the
wide array of coffee shops in Ann
Arbor, I don’t think it’s controversial
to say that Espresso Royale was not
the greatest option in town. This is
no fault of Espresso Royale. After all,
how is one to compete with the likes
of Literati Coffee or Roos Roast?
Still, even without these elite
alternatives around to serve as points
of comparison, it’s not as if Espresso
Royale was trying very hard. The
coffee, service and seating, albeit reli-
able, were all just okay. One day dur-
ing the summer after I graduated, I
went into ERSSL with some friends
to work on job applications only to
find the A/C was out. This memory
is representative of many ERSSL
experiences: Showing up only to find
something massively uncomfortable,
yet staying for at least an hour any-
ways. While I would never go on the
record saying ERSSL was perfect,
the popular Zucchini bread, strong
cups of coffee and camaraderie kept
me coming back.
With so many other great cafes
to choose from, why did so many
of my peers consistently congre-
gate at ERSSL? There are certainly
some pragmatic reasons. Espresso
Royale’s State Street location was rel-
atively accessible, convenient and
open late. Espresso Royale’s prices
were not radically different from
other options nearby, such as Star-
bucks, but they generally let you use
their space without buying anything.
Their openness to letting people
loiter in addition to the charm and
$2 Latte Wednesday deal — a tradi-
tion celebrated like a holiday in the
Espresso Royale Facebook group
— made it a sufficient college study
spot. You could find several friends
in ERSSL on Wednesday mornings
even when, to our collective horror,
the latte deal was raised to $2.50
Latte Wednesdays.
I am certainly not saying Espresso
Royale’s storewide policy was to
let anyone loiter. Although baristas
tended not to care about people loi-
tering, or were just too busy to notice,
I have still seen Espresso Royale staff
ask homeless residents to leave. The
best solution to the lack of places
to go without spending money in a
city as unaffordable as Ann Arbor
— whether to study, see friends or
simply take refuge from the rain
— is increased investment in afford-
able housing and public community
spaces, not private coffee shops. Still,
even though Espresso Royale was
not perfect, I worry that the next
coffee shop to pop up will create
just another unaffordable space in
the city. The loss of Espresso Royale
creates a vacuum for simple and low-
cost places for Ann Arbor residents to
meet, work and caffeinate.
While practical considerations
drew me to Espresso Royale’s State
Street location, the real appeal
came from the space it provided
to spend time with friends under
the guise of getting work done.
Espresso Royale made socializ-
ing easy. I would often go there to
meet friends, many of whom I don’t
catch up with anymore, without
even telling them to show up. The
closing of Espresso Royale, a cof-
fee shop that served a strong cup of
coffee and an even stronger sense
of community, is a massive loss to
Ann Arbor.
I could always count on finding
an extra chair to pull up across the
coffee-stained carpet to a table of
friends, a $2 Wednesday latte and
vegan Zucchini bread in tow. But
now, with Espresso Royale gone
for good, those wobbly chairs are
left empty and cheap coffees are a
thing of the past.
The final $2.50 Wednesday latte
Max Lubell is a graduate of the
University of Michigan and can be
reached at maxlubell@gmail.edu.
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
OPINION
Thursday, July 2, 2020
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com