On the wall of Merrill 1, right beside the door, the lecture hall's maximum occupancy, 178, is very clearly displayed. Since the building's construction, that number has only decreased, mostly due to broken chairs. On the other hand, James and Stearns Halls' capacities have become almost elastic, increasing whenever necessary by adding a bed to a double, to the point where triples vastly outnumber doubles. This year, nearly one quarter of the freshman class is housed in overstuffed rooms, which in an urban setting would likely result in fining or arresting a landlord for creating unsafe conditions. The hallways are narrow, the ceilings low and, in the words of Dean of Students Ben Lieber, the basements are "dank and unusable."

James and Stearns have got to go. They are relics of an age when handicapped accessibility was not yet a consideration, let alone a requirement. The dorms, which a 1962 issue of The Student referred to as "the kennels," are beyond repair, simply because of the prohibitive cost of installing an elevator.

At their next meeting, the trustees of the College are expected to unveil their Campus Master Plan: their solution to this and other deficiencies in first-year housing. Nearly everyone on campus expects, at the very least, the long-overdue demolition and replacement of James and Stearns, artifacts of the post-war college rush felt by many American campuses. The other details of the plan, such as where to put displaced freshmen during construction and what other, if any, dorms will house freshmen in years to come, are as impossible to predict as snowfall totals for the Valley.

The problem with current freshman housing is a multifaceted mess. At issue: severe shortage of common space when compared to upperclass housing, aging dorms with narrow hallways and rooms intended as doubles being forced to serve as triples for lack of space, among others. In addition, a number of "perks" are being weighed in this decision, such as the creation of a unified freshman quad, the possible relocation of some departments and replacement of outdated facilities, the creation or appropriation of other dorms for upperclass housing and the possible aesthetic balance of College Row.

The notion of a freshman quad, where all first-year students will live, seems inevitable. Since the beginning of this debate, I have been amazed that the advantage of this move is at all in question, yet a quarter of all students who responded to the February Student Government survey felt that this should not be a priority. In discussions on the subject to which I've been privy, the only opponents to the single quad concept are Valentine residents intent on remaining isolated for one reason or another.

The creation of a single freshman quad gives incoming classes a unifying element missing since the days of the core curriculum. While in years past, common courses would give each class a common starting point for discussion, the only common ground among freshmen is the rarely-mentioned Stephen Jay Gould lecture last fall and the weekly post-TAP gatherings in the bathroom early Sunday mornings. One-time freshman roommates could be as distantly separated as Seligman and Milliken or Tyler and the Zü in later years; freshman year is the only chance an entire class has to live together (well, except maybe in Pratt sophomore year.)

Having decided that there should be a freshman quad, the next logical question is: Where should it be? The obvious answer is to leave it where it is. The College is not looking to "shoehorn a freshman quad" into the campus, but rather add a dorm or two to the quad that already exists. No one is looking to make such a radical change as moving all the freshmen to the social dorm quad (though they would fit) or adding a freshman quad behind Mead Art Museum. The problem, though, is that the quad, as it is, is full. The only option the trustees have, short of building atop Memorial Hill between Pratt Museum and Appleton, is to convert the buildings that currently stand. Excluding the current freshman dorms, we can immediately rule out Johnson Chapel, due to the historical significance and nature of the building; Frost Library, save for the occasional joke about putting the freshmen in the moveable stacks on C-Level; and Barrett Hall because of its history and its comparatively small size.

What's left are Williston Hall and Pratt Museum, the two buildings being strongly considered for renovations by the trustees. The black studies and philosophy departments would have to move from Williston Hall, most likely to Cooper House. This move would be quite disruptive at first, but after a few months of "settling in" time, they would continue to serve the College in a fashion similar to before the move. The geology department and the College's extensive collection currently residing in Pratt Museum would move a short distance east to a new wing on Merrill, where they would have more modern facilities. Lost classroom space (from Williston and Pratt) would be made up for in this addition as well.

Countless professors and students alike cry foul at this proposal to move academics off the quad, allegedly shifting the focus of the College from academics to residential life. While I agree that the main quad, and more precisely Memorial Hill and College Row, are showpieces of the campus, especially in the autumn when the valley and Holyoke Range are awash in reds and ochres, I do not feel that making the main quad residential deemphasizes academics. Other schools with which we endlessly compare ourselves have central living areas (most notably Harvard, with its celebrated Yard) and seem no less academic for it. Moreover, the most remote locations on campus remain, for the most part, residences. Both Cooper House (which is right next to Clark House) and the suggested addition to Merrill are still reasonably central.

A unified freshman quad at the center of campus seems most welcoming to prospective students. Academic buildings encircle the quad, from Webster to Merrill, Fayerweather to Frost, and beyond them lies the upperclass housing, juxtaposing academic and daily life.

The need to renovate Chapin Hall, which was included in the favored option of the majority voting in the SGO survey, should not be ignored, but it is unnecessary to include it as a part of the freshman housing crisis. The freshman housing plan, after all, is only the beginning of an extensive plan which will touch on all elements of campus design-from the substantial inadequacies of Chapin to the minute details such as the possible addition of a stairway to the hill behind Stirn Auditorium and Mead, and a new name for Pratt Museum, which will be neither Pratt nor a Museum.

The benefits of opening Williston and the Museum to freshmen is twofold. Not only will the current stresses on James, Stearns and to a lesser extent, the other freshman dorms be significantly relieved, but additional housing will open up to upperclassmen. Valentine, after some renovation, would be a very welcoming upperclass dorm, with numerous spacious singles and comfortable doubles. Also, the "swing" dorm built to hold the overflow of freshmen while James and Stearns are being rebuilt, already labelled by many as "C-Dorm," would add space to the north end of the social dorm quad, all before any new construction for upperclassmen is considered.

Relief for Amherst's housing problems is in sight. Because the College's size is unlikely to increase, the pending improvements to freshman dormitories are probably the last necessary changes for years to come. If the trustees fail to unify the freshman quad now, they will miss their best chance to do so.