Home Sweet Home
2 | WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 11, 2017
The Chronicle
TOWERVIEW
From mill village to student housing How Central Campus came to be By Adam Beyer Digital Strategy Team Director
Sometimes Duke’s gothic architecture tricks us into thinking it has existed since time immemorial. On Central Campus, it isn’t the grandeur of the architecture that triggers this feeling so much as its homely look. But the land does have a history, and in the case of Central Campus, a quite interesting one. In light of University plans to move all undergraduates off Central by summer 2019, The Chronicle is looking back at how Central came to be. In the mid-1960s, Duke was a much smaller place. Most buildings on Science Drive and Towerview did not yet exist. There was no Bryan Center or Keohane dormitory. It was a time of expansion for the University, and a necessary one at that. Several reports from prior administrators, which The Chronicle accessed through the Duke Archives, indicate that campus was quickly becoming overcrowded. Rooms on West Campus meant for one student accommodated two, and rooms for two housed three. There was also pent-up demand for off-campus accommodations and housing for married students. And as early as 1964, the University began to focus on expanding inward. “To provide for the basis for a unified campus within the next 20 years, efforts should be made to purchase land not now owned by the University between the East and West Campuses,” states a 1964 Campus Planning study commissioned by the Buildings and Grounds committee of the Board of Trustees. In a second round of study, a planning committee suggested a seemingly random scattering of buildings, which would include graduate student housing around a lake, the University Union and a performing arts space, according to the report. More buildings would link the site to West Campus along Campus Drive. The plan also called for the rerouting of most traffic to the perimeter of the University. Roads within campus would be serviced by University transit and a new corridor would be created along a “North Campus Drive” through present day Flowers Drive and Yearby Street, linking back to Swift and Campus Drives. The design of new buildings in the new Central Campus area must be “dignified and restrained,” the plan stated, calling for the use of Duke stone as the masonry material. “The introduction of brightly colored, highly reflective materials should be tempered,” the report continued. None of this was ever built of course, but it’s interesting to note that at one point, Duke had a grand vision for what Central Campus would be. Damar Court It is hard to tell the story of how Duke built Central Campus without first discussing a project slightly further away. Facing a housing shortage, Duke moved in 1967 to purchase the Damar Court Apartments along Morreene Road. The University owned a group of apartments for married student housing across the street. At the time, Durham had been facing a shortage of affordable housing properties generally, and the Durham Housing Authority was seeking to expand its holdings away from other areas of concentrated poverty. Several of the Housing Authority’s prior attempts at purchasing properties were defeated by wealthier, white residents angered that they would be near poorer, primarily black residents of public housing units. As it was fa‑rther away from other development and already built, the Damar Court apartments seemed like an ideal acquisition for the Housing Authority, which
Courtesy of Duke Rare Book and Manuscript Collection Duke purchased land between East and West Campuses in 1965 from Burlington Industries. The area had previously been a site of mill houses.
had already bid on the property by the time Duke indicated its interest. Meanwhile, racial tensions in Durham were running high as African American community members expressed their displeasure with the relegation of affordable housing units to certain sections of town. Several felt Duke trying to buy the apartments would maintain this status quo. In a confidential 1967 memo, Frank Ashmore, vice president for institutional advancement, described protests in downtown Durham and stated that the Duke Hospital had been put on disaster alert. Gradually, he said, members of the Durham Housing Authority who may have accepted Duke’s bid to buy the properties began to fall away in the midst of political pressure. In the face of turmoil, they did not want to appear to be supporting Duke’s plans for the site. “At this point, it became obvious that we had no chance to acquire the Damar Court Apartments,” Ashmore indicated. Ceding the apartments to the Housing Authority led Duke administrators to conclude that maintaining the University’s own married student property across the street, acquired only several years prior, was untenable. Ashmore added that the property would have been downgraded in value and would have needed a fence. He noted that the property was far from campus and did not suit the needs of students. “Next, it became clear that the best opportunity we had to recover our investment was to sell this to the Durham Housing Authority before it became downgraded,” he concluded. The added benefit would be that proceeds from the sale would help pay off land purchase debts for what became Central Campus and would finance the construction of replacement married student housing. All this had the advantage, Ashmore said, of making Duke look like a good presence in the community. And it certainly worked, according to a 2004 dissertation by Eric Moyen at the University of Kentucky. After the University announced that it would sell its married student housing to the Housing Authority, Duke received local and national acclaim in the media. Moyen’s dissertation cites favorable commentary from newspapers across North Carolina. President Douglas Knight, who was given credit for the idea, received letters praising the decision from Duke alumni and even UNC President
Bill Friday. Not everyone on campus thought it was a good plan though, the dissertation notes. Sociology Professor Emeritus Jack Preiss, who also served on the Durham City Council, pointed out that the apartments the University was selling were primarily single bedrooms or studios—not the size needed for low-income residents with families. And some of the residents of the married student housing petitioned against the plan, arguing that moving students from the complex would prevent cross-racial communication. The sale went through, yet it would be several years before construction of replacement married student housing began. Meanwhile, the University housed married students in several off-campus blocks of apartments it leased. Organizing the residents In 1965, Duke purchased much of the land between East and West Campuses from Burlington Industries. The land had been the site of mill houses rented by workers at the nearby Erwin Mills. But before Erwin Mills opened, the land was known as the Pinhook, and it provided services to travelers along the RaleighHillsborough Road. Some of those “services” included gambling, fighting and prostitution. “There is a place called Pinhook in this county and it is remarkable for a race that was run there many years ago by a man and a woman. They wore no clothes and ran for a quart of liquor,” stated one story in a local newspaper with no additional context. Erwin Mills was founded with funds from the Duke family in the late 19th Century and became one of the largest denim producers in the country. And as was typical for Southern mills, the company owned and constructed much of the nearby housing where its workers lived. Despite purchasing this land, it took several years for the University to begin any work on the newly-acquired property and meanwhile Duke continued to buy adjoining properties in the area. For a while, tenants in many of the approximately 150 houses Duke had gotten in the land purchase were allowed to stay, according to a senior thesis by Reed Kramer, Trinity ‘69. In 1968, the University gave sixmonth eviction notices to some residents on Central Campus so that it could begin work on its Married Student Housing development,
according to Kramer’s thesis. Financing for that project fell through, but 29 houses were nonetheless destroyed. Administrators said at the time that they helped evicted residents find alternative housing arrangements. But Harry Boyte, Trinity ’67 and a community organizer who worked with residents in the mill community, told The Chronicle that he questioned this claim and said some families were forced to move into trailers. Boyte had long been involved in civil rights work. His father was appointed special assistant to Martin Luther King, Jr. and was the Southern Christian Leadership Conference’s first white employee. Boyte told The Chronicle in a recent interview that King had assigned him to do community organizing among poor white people during the mid-to-late 1960s. “We did a lot of work around housing,” Boyte said. “We were seeing if we could find ways to connect the working class mill community around Erwin Mills, which was mainly white, with the black community.” Boyte said that many students at the time opposed the University’s plans to build Central Campus in the Erwin Mills area. It was a time of activism and energy, he noted, making it fairly easy to get students to oppose the displacement of low-income communities. Employees of the mills would have been competing with Duke students for housing. Boyte went door-to-door through the neighborhoods in an effort to engage residents. In community organizing you look to find ways for people to act collectively and score early victories—that increases confidence, Boyte explained. You have to overcome internalized feelings of powerlessness. It was such organizing tactics that led to the formation of the Erwin Council, a neighborhood organization representing the interests of the residents of the homes purchased by Duke. According to a Chronicle article in 1969, the group demanded that the University bring the houses up to Durham Housing Code standards, cease demolishing houses and replace houses already demolished. Charles Huestis, Duke’s vice president for business and finance at the time, rejected most of the demands but did concede to adding some protections into the rental contracts and asked tenants to list the needed repairs. The organizers had scored a victory. See MILL VILLAGE on Page 3
The Chronicle
MILL VILLAGE FROM PAGE 2 Construction begins Nonetheless, the tenants’ days were numbered. Although financing difficulties slowed Duke’s construction, its housing needs did not decrease. “I think the University felt the need to serve students but also to attract students,” Kramer recently told The Chronicle. Plus, administrators at the time stated that continuing maintenance and upkeep of the houses was a money-losing operation. Being closer to West Campus was preferable to being in some of the other offcampus apartment locations with transport difficulties, Kramer said. According to Chronicle articles at the time, development of the property began in stages in the early 1970s, with plans for the apartment complexes to house a mixture of 1,100 graduate students and undergraduates and a connection to the University’s bus transport system. The Board of Trustees approved the project in 1972 and the University took out a $7 million loan and secured grants from the Department of Housing and Urban Development to assist in the building of one-, two- and three-bedroom units. In one Chronicle article, Huestis told the Board that Duke “will do everything it can” for the renters who would be displaced by the construction. Still, some continued to criticize the University for not doing enough to help the renters. A 1974 Chronicle article documented the bitterness several of the remaining residents felt as apartment buildings sprung up around them. “I know I’ll never get a house to myself again if I have to move out of here,” said Annie Blue, a resident of a house on Anderson Street at the time. “If they’d just let me stay here, I wouldn’t
TOWERVIEW
care how many apartments they build.” The apartments opened to the first students in the Fall of 1974. Records from the vice president for business and finance indicate that the University undertook a survey of which remaining houses in the area to demolish in late 1974. The land would be incorporated into Central Campus, and Duke would no longer need to maintain the aging properties or pay local taxes on them. “Should some of the tenants not be able to find other suitable housing in this period, we will work with them to ensure they are treated humanely,” wrote Larry Smith, director of housing management, in a memo.
What’s left If you want to see what the area that became Central Campus might have been like before Duke developed it, several vestiges remain. Along Alexander Avenue there is a series of white houses near the intersection of Pace Street that date to the early 20th Century. Duke uses them as space for its facilities and maintenance personnel. Slightly further down Alexander, another white house dates to approximately 1920 and remains in private hands, according to Durham property tax records seen by The Chronicle. Across the street, the red building that is now the International House was once owned by Richard D. Blacknall, a local pharmacist. Built
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around 1889, the house was originally located several blocks away near the intersection of Erwin Road and Anderson Street but was moved to its current location in 1985 in advance of the widening of Erwin Road. And that open field that separates Central Campus from Duke’s new apartments at 300 Swift? That used to be the site of a park for workers at Erwin Mills and was later a city park before Duke purchased the parcel in 2009. However, even all the buildings currently on Central may soon be objects of history as Duke prepares to determine what’s next for the land. If one thing is certain, it’s that this won’t be the first time the area has been changed dramatically.
Courtesy of the Herald-Sun Newspaper The area between Case and Oregon Streets, now part of Central Campus, is shown above in an aerial shot taken in the 1950s.
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The Chronicle
TOWERVIEW
‘Those buildings are ready to be retired’
Central Campus’ evolution from grad student haven to Greek life hub to battered eyesore By Claire Ballentine Towerview Editor
It’s clear from student conversations that Central Campus might not be a desirable place to live. Whether they’re posting on Fix My Campus about the mold, bemoaning the distance between Central and literally anything else at Duke or complaining about poor security, most undergraduates are tired of it. Something less known? Administrators think Central is shabby and crumbling as well. And they’re equally ready to see it go. “We’ve known from the day I arrived that Central Campus was done, that those buildings are ready to be retired,” said Larry Moneta, vice president for student affairs, who came to Duke in 2001. “The money we put into them was just to keep them going until we could build something new.” There’s a common saying among administrators, which Moneta attributed to Executive Vice President Tallman Trask— Central Campus isn’t a campus and it’s not really central to anything. As the University prepares to eliminate all student housing from Central by summer 2019, we examined the campus’ evolution—a tale that reveals how shifting demographics and undergraduate needs shaped student life on Central until it ultimately became too battered to repair. Graduate student dwellings Central Campus began its life at Duke in the 1970s as a location for graduate and professional student housing. Dean of Students Sue Wasiolek explained that Central was built in an apartment style to accommodate the needs of graduate students and their families. The variation in sizes— one to three bedrooms—meant that married couples with kids as well as childless students could live there. A 1970s-era flyer from the Duke Archives advertising Central Campus notes that the 500-unit complex was completed in 1975, incorporating a “college atmosphere” architecture with “a mixture of brick veneer and wood siding exterior treatment.” It says that Central “provides a total student community by housing single and married students representing all segments of Duke University.” Listed apartment features include electric hot air, seasonal air cooling, balconies or patios, master TV antennas, spacious grounds and convenient laundry facilities.
When Wasiolek was an undergraduate at Duke—she first arrived on campus in 1973— Central was a desirable place, especially for graduate students from different countries and for those who didn’t have cars. These students could use the campus bus system, which connected Central to the rest of Duke as it does today, and could walk to a grocery store on Ninth Street. Or residents could take the bus to East Campus and walk to Northgate Mall. “Central Campus provided a number of conveniences on and off campus for graduate and professional students,” Wasiolek said. “Ninth Street was here, and Durham was vibrant at that time in a different way than it is currently.” She noted that there weren’t many other housing options for graduate students at the time and the prices of Central apartments matched students’ budgets. That all changed as Duke’s enrollment numbers began to creep up in the next two decades and the University suddenly needed more housing. Soon undergraduates were housed on Central along with the graduate students. Moneta explained that Duke was thoughtful about separating the two groups, making a different section for graduate students that would be quieter. “There was a recognition that families might need a different section,” Wasiolek said. “Then enrollment creep just eventually took over all of Central.” She noted that there was some pushback from the graduate students who were being phased out. But new apartments in Durham were beginning to emerge and some graduate students thought there were better, offcampus places to live. As space for graduate students became even more limited, Duke began giving priority to graduate international students, especially the first-years, who might have difficulty arranging other living conditions from abroad. “It’s always been important for us to have beds for that student who just didn’t have the capacity to make that arrangement in advance,” Moneta said. Graduate students continued to occupy Central in small numbers until as late as last year, he noted, when the University began closing locations on Central in preparation for phasing out the entire campus. He added that the sole graduate housing was located on 300 Swift, but these buildings only included 50 to 60 beds—a small number compared to
Chronicle File Photo The University aims to move all undergraduate housing off Central Campus by summer 2019, but plans for Central after that are still being developed.
the more than 8,000 graduate and professional students at Duke. ‘Where poor kids lived’ When undergraduates moved onto Central, they did so as individual apartment dwellers, not as “groups” of students like the selective living groups and Greek organizations that make up Central today, Wasiolek explained. She noted that Central was appealing to some because it gave a sense of independence and included kitchens. Another common reason? It cost less. The campus ended up being a place for students from low socioeconomic status, who paid less for their apartments than they would for dorms on West and could also save money by cooking for themselves and purchasing a smaller meal plan. Janet Dickerson, former vice president of student affairs from 1991 to 2000, said that when she arrived at Duke, there were 19 different housing rates. Students would choose where they wanted to live based on the location’s desirability along with the price. “West Campus was the Upper East Side, and East Campus was at that time where people lived if they didn’t get West but wanted to be in residence halls,” she said. “Central Campus was a location for students on financial aid or trying to be financially conservative.”
Steve Nowicki, dean and vice provost for undergraduate education, noted that when he arrived in 1989, Duke had “a very tiered housing system.” Central was a place where students from families who made less money—many of them students of color— ended up having to live. “At that time, it was clear that there was selfsegregation along socioeconomic status lines which often mapped onto race and ethnicity,” he said. “Central Campus was where poor kids lived, and that was a problem.” To remedy the issue, Duke began looking more critically at its financial aid policies. At the time, the University would give students an average housing allowance in their financial aid packages, which wouldn’t always cover the entire cost of housing. But Nowicki said that in 2007, the policy changed to give students the exact amount of money they will be charged for housing that year. “If a student lucks out and gets the most expensive air-conditioned room on campus, Duke will pay for it,” he said. “That was a really important change in financial aid, which changed how Central was used.” Dickerson noted that when she left the University in 2000, Central was a place students enjoyed for its apartment-style facilities and was “less of a ghetto than when I first arrived.” She also worked with other administrators to make campus housing feel more inclusive. Part of this involved housing all first-year students on East Campus—a change that occurred in 1995—to form a closer community. But concerns regarding Central’s place in the University ecosystem remained. “There were questions about the quality of housing, especially compared to East and West,” Dickerson said. “There were definitely issues associated with having campus feel as if it was divided based on income that we wanted to alleviate.” A new residential model Moneta explained that soon after he got to campus, Duke tried out a “developmental sequence” in housing—all first-years lived on East, sophomores lived on West and juniors and seniors on Central. At this point, about 200 graduate students were left on Central, meaning the age difference between them and the undergraduate population was narrower than it would have been with first-years and sophomores. However, this model didn’t last for long.
Courtesy of the Duke Archives Built in the 1970s, Central Campus originally served to house graduate and professional students, especially those who were married with kids.
See CENTRAL CAMPUS on Page 8
The Chronicle
TOWERVIEW
WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 11, 2017 | 5
The last resident of Campus Drive Elli Jantz lived in the house by the Nasher for 40 years as the University grew around her By Bre Bradham Local and National News Editor
The grass in front of 2021 Campus Drive is cut. The windows are dark. The tan front door is shut. Quiet—save the grumbles of passing buses—but normal. Eleanore Jantz, or “Elli” as her friends called her, occupied the colonial-style brick house nestled in the middle of the rapidly growing University since 1978. When she died in July, the 104-year-old widow was the last private resident of the faculty houses lining Campus Drive, relics of a mostly forgotten era. Built in the early 1930s, the homes have largely been repurposed during the last few decades. Soon, Elli’s house will too be swallowed by the University that originally grew around it. Elli’s story Eleanore Marjorie Whitmore Jantz was born in 1912 and raised in Philadelphia before enrolling at Ohio’s Antioch College in 1932. However, she left the school before graduating to marry the man whose career would eventually bring her to Durham—Harold Jantz, an Antioch assistant professor of German and a leading Goethe scholar. “She met her husband when he was a faculty member and she was an undergraduate, in the days when those things were allowable,” said Executive Vice President Tallman Trask, who used to visit Elli about once a year. “She got married, I think fairly young, and then went back to school later to get a Ph.D.” Elli followed her husband’s career to Northwestern University in Illinois, where she earned her bachelor of science degree and was the first woman to be accepted into postgraduate studies at the school. She earned her Ph.D. there in 1959. Her husband left Northwestern in 1957 for Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. Elli went on to teach psychology and psychotherapy at the University of Maryland School of Medicine for 18 years. In another first, she was the first woman to serve on Maryland’s Board of Psychological Examiners. After their time in Maryland, the two retired to Durham in the late 1970s. Harold took up a position at Duke as a visiting professor in the department of Germanic languages and literature, and the couple donated his expansive—about 9,000 volumes—collection of manuscripts and books to the University. In 1978, they moved into 2021 Campus Drive, also known as House 12. The house had formerly been occupied by two Duke Law School deans, a pastor at the Duke Chapel and an assistant dean for first-years. “They wanted a house, and that house was available,” Trask said. “It was built before, but they were told they could live in that house, and they lived there ever since.” A friend of the University Harold passed away in 1987, leaving behind his wife of 52 years. Leland Phelps—Harold’s long-time colleague at both Northwestern and Duke—spoke at a memorial service held in the Chapel on March 29, 1987, according to a funeral program accessed via the Duke Archives. Phelps also wrote in a document accessed from the Archives that Harold had lived his life to the fullest. “Harold Jantz was not an ivory-tower scholar. It is true that he loved and was devoted to his books and the scholarly life, but he also loved good company, good food, fine wines and travel. He had a wonderful sense of humor and was an entertaining raconteur,” Phelps wrote. “With eyes sparkling, he could hold an audience enthralled as he recounted experiences he and Eleanore had had searching
Bre Bradham | Associate Photography Editor Elli Jantz and her husband lived in House 12, near the current Nasher Museum of Art along Campus Drive.
for and collecting the treasures that make up the Jantz collection.” Following her husband’s death, Elli continued to live in their Campus Drive residence until she passed away in the home on July 30, 2017, said Tom Hadzor, associate university librarian for development and one of Elli’s friends. Hadzor knew Elli for about a decade and said they bonded through lunches at the Washington Duke—one of her favorite places to visit. Elli, who collected cookbooks, always ordered dessert during their lunches, which would sometimes stretch upwards of three hours. “Just a neat, neat lady. A little bit of a character. A little impish. Smart as can be,” Hadzor said. “She lived to 104 and was just as sharp as when I first met her and long before that. We had interesting conversations about all sorts of stuff. She had a variety of interests, and it was always fun to be with her.” Although most of people who passed Elli’s house each day were oblivious to her living there, those within the University who knew her kept an eye out for the elderly widow. Trask said he got to know her years ago because there were rumors bouncing around that the University was considering building an art museum behind her house, and he wanted to meet her. “I was the one who had to go tell her that we were going to build an art museum in her backyard,” he said. A year or two later, he had to go back and tell her that the architect had not placed the museum exactly where they wanted him to—meaning that her garage needed to be removed. “So that’s why that house has a very nice, new garage,” Trask said. “We built her a place when the [Nasher Museum of Art] knocked it down.” Randy Orange, a facilities and maintenance department building coordinator, was Elli’s point of contact for any problems she had with the home. He visited the property every other week to maintain it for the past five years, but he was always only a phone call away when she had problems—whether they were related to her cable TV, alarm system or lawn care. “She never had to call the customer service line or put things online, she just gave me a call, and whether it was our department or not, I made sure it got to the right people,” he said. Hadzor shared an anecdote about one
time when Senior Philanthropic Counsel Phil Buchanan visited Jantz when she complained about construction dirt making her windows grimy. Despite being in a suit and tie, he offered to clean the windows for her. “He got stuff and went and cleaned her windows. Phil is a big guy—like 6’6” or something—and he was up there washing her windows,” Hadzor said.
two different spots on Campus Drive. Now, about 40 people work out of the former home. “When I need to talk to someone, I don’t have to ride to the Allen Building,” he said. “We’re here. It just makes it so much easier.” In a blend not uncommon to Duke, old features persist alongside modern technology in House 2. A first-floor conference room boasts a fireplace on one end and a large television on the other, while an old bathtub covered with a cushion serves as a bench in a bathroom upstairs. A portrait of Flowers hangs on the second floor, and copy machines are tucked into rooms small enough to be closets. The old building comes with its unique features—including a secret staircase to get to the third floor and small storage spaces with waist-high doors. Then, there are the “hiccups,” such as the bat problem they encountered a few years ago. Some bats had taken up residence in the house, remaining there long enough for one of them to earn the nickname “Fred,” before being humanely removed. Kendrick said he mistook one of the creatures for a doorstop while searching for paper in a closet. “I was touching it with my foot, and it raised up and hissed at me. I let out a scream. People came running, and I was so embarrassed,” he said. “I have not lived that down.”
History of the houses Elli’s passing marks the end of more than 80 years of faculty members and their families living in the houses lining the road that ties Duke’s two halves together. Then called Myrtle Drive, the street that is now known as Campus Drive was chosen as the site for the construction of on-campus faculty housing in 1929. Construction was completed during the early 1930s. The homes—which in most cases have been inhabited by several residents associated with the University—are typically referred to using numbers given to them by S.W. Myatt, a director of the Duke Construction Company at the time. When recruiting professors from outof-state in its early years, offering oncampus housing was a big draw. The young University allotted up to $350,000 for the construction of the houses and hired Horace Trumbauer—architect of the Duke See CAMPUS DRIVE on Page 8 Chapel—to design the houses. Houses 1 to 4 were originally home to University administrators such as President William Preston Few, President Robert Lee Flowers, Dean William Wannamaker and Chief Engineer A.C. Lee. The remaining homes primarily housed members of the faculty and other University deans. House 7 was the home of football coach Wallace Wade. But in several of these houses lining Campus Drive, what was once residential space for Duke’s administrators and faculty is now home to offices and conference rooms. Alan Kendrick, assistant dean of graduate student development, arrived at Duke a few months before the offices of the Graduate School moved to their current office in House 2. This home had been occupied by President Flowers until 1935, when he moved to House 4 in a trade with Dr. Frederic Hanes, chairman of the Department of Medicine. Special to The Chronicle Kendrick said that prior to the relocation, the Graduate School was spread across Duke’s Elli Jantz, who passed away in July at 104 years campus—with offices in the Allen Building and old, lived along Campus Drive since 1978.
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The Chronicle
TOWERVIEW
‘Gentrification is not a myth, it’s really happening’ Duke invests in low-income housing, but at what cost?
By Andrew Tan-Delli Cicchi Contributing Writer
initiative was founded in 2012 by Duke as well as the city of Durham, Self-Help Credit Union and other nonprofit developers to help the area flourish. As a staff assistant in the Office of Postdoctoral Services, Steinbrenner qualified for the University’s aid. Yet less than four years later, Steinbrenner now lives in a neighborhood that exemplifies the rampant gentrification that has displaced so many low-income residents from areas in downtown Durham. “It’s sort of this weird tension because I’m both grateful for the opportunity, but there’s a bit of guilt when you start thinking about the folks who might not be able to live in their own
neighborhoods,” he said.
Duke’s investment in Southside The Southside revitalization project involved the redevelopment of Southside and an adjacent 20-acre site called Rolling Hills. Southside itself is located south of the Durham Freeway and north of the North Carolina Central University, near the American Tobacco Campus. Both sites are situated in the Hayti district, Durham’s historically black neighborhood that was largely demolished in the 1960s by the construction of the freeway. In 2008, shortly after he began working at Duke, Phail Wynn Jr.—vice president of the Office of Durham and Regional Affairs—went with Durham city manager Tom Bonfield and Evan Covington Chavez, director of real estate at Self-Help at the time, to visit Southside. Back then, the neighborhood was mostly abandoned with dilapidated homes and high rates of violent crime. “It was a haven for drug sales,” Wynn said. “Gangs had taken over that territory, and it was largely abandoned and devastated. It was unkempt with a lot of vacant houses. It was an eyesore.” The three of them decided to create a partnership between the city, Duke and SelfHelp to revitalize Southside. Collaboration between Duke and Self-Help Credit Union was nothing new—they have partnered since 1994 to re-develop Durham neighborhoods, as well as to build and sell affordable homes. Reginald Johnson, director of Durham’s Courtesy of Duke Photography Community Development Department, said Durham residents can receive advice on buying a new home through the Duke Homebuyers Club, a that in 2008 Southside had very few investors and even fewer homeowners. free program organized by the Office of Durham and Regional Affairs.
When David Steinbrenner was growing up in Mesa, Arizona, houses with front porches were a luxury. So when he purchased his first house—a brand-new, three-bedroom property in Durham’s newly-revitalized Southside neighborhood—its sweeping front porch excited him most. Hailing from a relatively modest background, he never imagined that he would own his dream home by age 40. In 2014, Steinbrenner bought this home with the help of Duke’s affordable housing initiative for low-income university employees to purchase property in Southside. The
“You couldn’t get a builder to go into that neighborhood because you couldn’t sell the house for more than it cost to build it,” he said. “Our goal was to use our public dollars to engage the community.” Duke’s involvement in the revitalization project included two components—a loan commitment and an affordable housing initiative. The project was designed to create an affordable community through rental and homeownership opportunities, as well as to renovate the houses of existing Southside residents. In 2011, Duke doubled its loan commitment to Self-Help Credit Union to $8 million, with the Southside revitalization earmarked as its priority. Self-Help used the money to purchase properties and land in Southside for redevelopment. With the help of the city and low-income housing tax credits, the first phase of the revitalization project built 48 houses, Johnson said. About 26 of them were reserved for purchase by low to moderate income residents. All 48 homes had been bought and occupied by 2017. “In this particular project, Duke has been very important,” Johnson said. “Self-Help could not have done the work they did without the help of Duke.” Affordable housing initiative Duke also offered an affordable housing initiative for low to middle income employees to buy houses in Southside, including a forgivable mortgage loan program of $10,000. Eligible employees needed to have worked for See AFFORDABLE HOUSING on Page 7
The Chronicle
TOWERVIEW
Courtesy of Duke Photography Durham’s Southside neighborhood is located south of the Durham Freeway and north of North Carolina Central University.
AFFORDABLE HOUSING
‘Gentrification is not a myth’ As affordable housing becomes increasingly scarce in Durham, Southside’s gentrification the University for more than five years and earn has raised questions about Duke’s partnership $40,000 or less annually from Duke and have with the city and Self-Help Credit Union less than $66,000 in total income if part of a and the group’s ability to help low-income two-person household. The city also offered individuals find economical housing. attractive loans and incentives for low and Houses in the revitalization project were moderate income buyers. priced in the range of $162,000 to $198,000, Steinbrenner was the first resident of one based on their size and design. Three years later, of the new houses. He qualified for Duke’s houses are being listed upwards of $300,000. forgivable loan program and used it as a down “The price on [my] house was actually payment for the house. reasonable,” Steinbrenner said. “Now, there’s “Without the funding that Duke gave me, no way that we could get a house in the it would have been near impossible to buy the neighborhood for what we paid.” house,” Steinbrenner said. He noted that his main concern is for the But although the forgivable loan program low-income renters in old houses because initially aimed to select 10 employees, only as prices rise, they are more likely to get three were given loans. pushed out. Wynn said the program received more than “That’s really the dark side of the whole 100 applications from eligible Duke employees thing. Gentrification is not a myth—it’s really but most did not have the credit scores or liquid happening,” he said. savings to qualify for a first-home mortgage. James Eller, who has lived on South Street He explained that this meant employees who in Southside since 1958, said the extensive were on the lower end of the income scale were development following the revitalization less likely to be approved for the mortgages and project has made his future in the neighborhood receive forgivable loans. uncertain. Up and down Eller’s street, old Steinbrenner agreed with Wynn’s sentiment houses are being torn down as new, expensive that the forgivable loan program seemed to houses are built in surrounding lots. accommodate a specific demographic. “I feel like it’s just a matter of time before “What ends up happening though is that someone from the city comes to tell me that I’ve with people like me, you end up with a bunch of got to move or get my house up to code,” Eller white, graduated or educated people who don’t said. “And I don’t have the money to fix it.” maybe have high income yet,” Steinbrenner Eller said that prior to the revitalization said. “So in terms of getting a really diverse project, there had been no interest in socioeconomic or racially diverse mix into the enforcing the code. In his opinion, the recent houses, it ended up being—while not entirely improvement in Southside’s city services white—pretty darn white.” stand in stark contrast to treatment of the FROM PAGE 6
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Duke led the Southside redevelopment because of its proximity to downtown and in order to benefit higher-income employees. “There’s no poor people who can afford to live there anymore,” she said. “There is a whole initiative to have this kind of joyland in and around the [Durham Bulls Athletic Park]. They want to live, play and have a good time all around that ballpark, and Southside is within walking distance of that.” Although the Southside initiative was successful at first in improving the neighborhood and generating wealth, the project’s shortcomings demonstrate the challenges of creating effective affordable housing strategies, Wynn noted. “Southside is an affordable housing planned complex that is rapidly becoming unaffordable,” he said. “But it showed the effectiveness and the power of a strong partnership between a private university, a city government and a community-based bank. This is something we can replicate with the lessons learned from this project.” He said that Duke remains committed to the affordable housing issue and to being a responsible neighbor in Durham. The Duke Homebuyers Club—which is run by the Office of Durham and Regional Affairs and helps employees repair their credit scores and increase their savings through an eightweek program—was created in response to the issues encountered by the Southside affordable housing initiative. More than 20 employees have been approved for first-home mortgages after going through the program. As for new affordable housing investments in Durham’s neighborhoods, Wynn said Duke will approach them with caution. “Until we figure out how we can prevent our next project from becoming gentrified, we won’t do the next project,” Wynn said. “The first step is to figure out—so how do we prevent a reoccurrence of what happened at Southside?”
neighborhood when it was mostly black. “Basically, this part of South Street, everybody is white,” Eller said. “It’s a shame that in the 50s they didn’t want to be around us. Now, all of a sudden they want to be around us. They want to be in our neighborhoods. I wish they felt the same way back then because I’m sure this would be a better place to be [if that had been the case].” Higher property valuations as a result of the revitalization have led to increases in property taxes. The city council recently approved a proposal to provide grants for longtime residents struggling to pay higher property tax bills. Still, Eller said he may have to sell his family home. “The houses are so priced out here that we can’t afford them,” he said. “When people have power over you, they can do tricky stuff to get what you got and you can’t do nothing about it.” At a Durham mayoral forum in September, some candidates said the Southside revitalization project was an example of unsuccessful affordable housing. Mayoral candidate Sylvester Williams said the city’s investment in Southside showed that it was primarily concerned with the economic growth of the downtown area, at the expense of other low-income places. He noted that low-income residents do not have a place in the city. “Is everyone being negatively affected equally?” Williams asked. “We’ve not seen a Courtesy of Duke Photography level playing field when it comes to people of Phail Wynn Jr. has worked with Durham officials color or people of lower income.” Former city councilwoman Jacqueline to revitalize Southside by creating an affordable Wagstaff, who also attended the forum, said that housing initiative.
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TOWERVIEW
students living on Central Campus to West Campus would create a more dense, vibrant community. “We came from let’s replace Central on Central to let’s replace Central on Campus Drive to let’s bring Central right into West Campus,” he said.
Courtesy of Duke Photography When sororities in the Panhellenic Association requested housing, they were given space on Central Campus since all the chapters could not fit on West Campus.
CENTRAL CAMPUS FROM PAGE 4 “We tried it for a little while, but the notion that all sophomores are alike and less mature than all juniors and seniors doesn’t hold,” Moneta said. The better solution was a move to the residential house model, which was implemented in 2012 and is still used today. In this system, each student is part of a “house”— sections of dorms on each campus that can be Greek, SLG or independent and are meant to foster a sense of community. Students who live in a house they like can request “right of return” to live there again the following year. Nowicki explained that prior to this system, groups like fraternities and some selective living groups like Brownstone and Roundtable “owned” space on West Campus. They could choose to return each year, while students not in these groups had to go through the housing lottery every single year. “That was an extraordinary privilege,” he said. “All the other students were treated like hermits and nomads. If you were in a place you liked, it didn’t matter.” This also led to clusters of rooms between fraternity sections where independent students would get stuck, with little chance for developing a community with their neighbors. The new system shuffled the deck, Moneta explained, distributing selective groups equally across Central and West Campus. During this transition, Panhellenic Association sororities came to the administration with a request—they wanted housing too. “The women came forward and said, ‘we’ve never had housing’ to which we said ‘you’ve never wanted housing,’” Moneta said. Prior to that point, Nowicki said, sororities enjoyed not having housing because of the intersectional nature of sorority life at Duke. Female students could join Greek life while still having friends outside the system. Moneta said that he always thought the sororities were smart in not wanting housing because it would’ve just added another competitive dynamic. But at this time, they felt that it was their chance to claim a piece of campus real estate. The administration suggested they distribute their sections across Central and West, but the sororities insisted they all be on the same campus to have the same living quality, Moneta explained. Since West Campus couldn’t fit them all, Central became the chosen spot. Nowicki noted another factor that may have led to sororities requesting the same campus and housing conditions—the social hierarchy. “The students who were leaders at the top of hierarchies understood that if some
sororities had housing and others didn’t, then it would accentuate the hierarchy,” he said. “Then the organization at the bottom loses members and goes away and that eats the chain up and it goes away.” Duke also incentivized fraternities and other selective living groups to move to Central by offering perks like renovated rooms, common areas and flat screen TVs. Nowicki noted that even though students traditionally like West Campus for its Gothic architecture, some of the rooms “are really crappy.” Some fraternities recognized this and jumped at the chance to live on Central. “That was the next big change in dynamics on Central because it meant that Central was overpopulated by Greek students,” Moneta said. “It wasn’t a good thing or bad thing, it was just a thing.” As part of the shift to this housing model, administrators also decided to give Central a facelift. The area in the middle of Central Campus now called “Mill Village” was built, adding a restaurant, convenience store and gym along with a basketball court and soccer fields. Duke also did renovations on the apartment buildings, mostly cosmetic work that resulted in a fresh interior with new carpeting and upgraded appliances. Nowicki noted that this bought them some extra time with Central, giving them an “okay” feeling about it. “It was an interesting brief period,” he said. “It was a little bit better than putting lipstick on a pig, but it was fixing up something that even we knew back then wasn’t going to last forever.” The transformation that never was If everything had worked out as planned, Central wouldn’t have just gotten a facelift—it would’ve become an entirely new campus. Wasiolek explained that Duke initially had a plan called the “New Campus” that would rejuvenate Central, with a residential focus but also arts and theater buildings and space for classrooms and recreation. This went through several iterations, Moneta noted. One version proposed tearing down current Central housing and rebuilding on the same plot of land, while another planned to bring the campus closer to Campus Drive. Everyone wanted to make student housing more cohesive, he said. In one version, the development would have extended from the Chapel Circle to the Nasher Museum of Art, costing the University $800 million, Nowicki said. Then the 2008 recession hit, plans were put on hold, and the New Campus never materialized. Moneta noted that the delays allowed Duke to mature its thinking about the role of Central at the University. Eventually, the administration agreed that bringing the
Retiring Central and moving forward Nowicki emphasized that Central was never meant to last as long as it has. As he understands it, the campus was built with the knowledge that it would only last 30 years. But why would Duke build structures to only last for three decades when the architectural marvels on West Campus have been around at least three times that long? Wasiolek said it’s not unusual for universities to construct buildings expected to only last a certain period of time. The school may change and have new demands over time, which she said has certainly happened at Duke. Moneta has a different theory—buildings with a 30-year shelf life were all Duke could afford as its undergraduate population rapidly expanded. “I’m going to guess the answer is at that time Duke was a poor school, extraordinarily ambitious, needed the beds and did what they had to do,” he said. “Gothic stone buildings are outrageously expensive.” It wasn’t until last year though that the Board of Trustees decided to bite the bullet and close Central, which Nowicki said he and Moneta had been advocating for years. “The decision was made that Central had provided to all of us its useful life, but that its useful life had come to an end, and it made no sense to continue to try to renovate it,”
CAMPUS DRIVE FROM PAGE 5 Making room for a growing University Although the houses are remnants of Duke’s early efforts to recruit and retain outstanding faculty and provide administrators with campus homes, they may not be around forever. When making room for the new arts building along Campus Drive, the University announced in May 2015 that it would sell two of the houses to people willing to move them. When no one bought the two houses despite the University offering a modest relocation fee, Duke had them taken down to make room for the new building. It’s a strategy they will try again with Elli’s house. Trask said that sometime in 2018, the University will make the home available for nearly free to anyone willing to pay to have it moved. The issue with this strategy comes from how expensive it is to move houses in Durham—entire blocks would have to be
The Chronicle Wasiolek said. Nowicki noted that if it were up to him, he would’ve closed Central a long time ago. “I can say that because it’s not my responsibility to look at financial issues,” he said. “Eventually, the cost-benefit analysis led us to say we just have to close it.” The current plan is to move the 1,000 beds on Central onto the The Hollows on West Campus, currently undergoing construction but expected to hold about 500 beds, or the newly-purchased 300 Swift Apartments. If all goes according to plan, Central Campus should be retired by 2019. But eventually the University wants to bring everyone onto West. Moneta explained that the next plateau is finding a way to add 500 more beds, allowing Duke to cease housing students in the 300 Swift apartment complex. In the meantime, Moneta noted that keeping Central alive while finalizing replacement housing on West will be “a rush to the finish.” Between dilapidated buildings and mold, Central is fading fast. But after Central ceases to house undergraduates, what will become of the land at the heart of Duke? Moneta said the plan is to use it not as academic space but to support Duke’s “broader initiative.” This could mean leasing it to private developers who could turn it into office or retail space, generating money for Duke. His preference, though, is to return Central to its roots, bringing campus full-circle. “For me, the number one need is housing for graduate students,” he said. “It’s certainly beautifully positioned for graduate student housing to be that close to campus.” rewired for something as large as a house to be moved. If no one takes the house, the University will tear it down. “It cannot stay there, considering the Nasher and the art building, it has to come out of there,” Trask said. Hadzor said he understands the University will need to move the house, but added that he loved how Duke kept its promise and let the Jantz couple live there for the rest of their days. This, even despite its impact on projects like the Nasher, he noted. Although the house will soon be gone, Hadzor said that this will not change how he remembers Elli. “It will make me sad, just because I associate that house with her and that piece of property with her,” he said. “I would stand out on the porch with her and look at stuff, and she would talk about things they had planted years before and whether they were growing or not. I won’t be able to drive by that area without thinking about her, that’s for sure—whether the house is there or not.”
Bre Bradham | Associate Photography Editor Duke built Jantz a new garage after her previous one had to be torn down during construction of the Nasher Museum of Art.