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

