Ghostly presence in educational institutions
Thirty Years Ago: A Memorable Graduate Sherry Hour
Back in the day, I eagerly attended my very first graduate sherry hour. The concept was mind-blowing – having drinks with my esteemed professors? Absolutely fantastic! No undergraduates in sight, just us advanced students, destined to rule our own classrooms and bask in our own scholarly havens filled with books and papers.
Little did I know that the reality would be quite different from my expectations. At exactly 5:00 p.m., Marilyn, the timeless and patient department secretary, emerged into the common area. She placed a solitary bottle of Harvey’s Bristol Cream and some plastic cups on the table. Like clockwork, professors emerged from their offices, and graduate students seemed to materialize from the dreary walls of the Politics Department.
Now, the gloppy beverage didn’t exactly thrill us students. But beggars can’t be choosers, so we drank it anyway. Alcohol was alcohol, after all. Occasionally, Marilyn would sneak in a bottle of Tio Pepe Sherry on a side table, although I couldn’t prove it in a court of law. And when the clock struck 6 o’clock, Marilyn, always clad in a thin sweater, blouse with a cascade collar, skirt, and dark hose, would bid us farewell and catch her train back to the outer boroughs.
That’s when my fellow students would reveal the hidden stash of cheap beer, wine, and sometimes even hooch. Most of the professors would make their exit, and our collegial gatherings would descend into drunken banter amidst clouds of smoke. Parliaments and Camel Lights were the usual suspects, although I occasionally indulged in Dunhill Blues, puffing away with a six-inch, black and silver holder.
After 9 p.m., we would attempt to tidy up before pouring out of the building and onto Broadway. Some went home, while others, including myself, headed to the divey Boo Radley’s pub around the corner for more cheap drinks. Occasionally, a professor or two would join us. This ritual occurred about once a month, and it felt perfectly normal.
Times Have Changed: The Crackdown on Drinking and Smoking
Those days now seem like a distant memory. Nowadays, universities are tightening their grip on drinking, whether it’s in fraternity houses or anywhere else. Alcohol is seen as a catalyst for mischief, and serving it may lead to #MeToo incidents or “inappropriate socializing.” Smoking, too, has been banned on almost every campus.
But no matter how hard administrators try, they can never completely eradicate drinking on campus. Humans have been enjoying intoxicants since the dawn of recorded history. People often turn to alcohol to soothe their anxiety, and today’s institutions of higher education are filled with it, partly due to the very administrators who would prefer professors and students to reflect on their efforts towards diversity, equity, and inclusion rather than getting tipsy.
That’s why I was utterly astonished when I stumbled upon The Faculty Lounge: A Cocktail Guide for Academics. A book about drinks written by a history professor? Absolutely fantastic.
A Boozy Escape: The Birth of a Cocktail Guide
This book came to life during the COVID era, a time of heightened anxiety and misery. Philipp Stelzel found himself trapped at home, teaching classes through online video. Though he doesn’t explicitly mention it, I can imagine the frustration of staring at his monitor’s brain-aching blue light, watching his students’ eyes wander to other browser tabs instead of engaging with the rich material he presented.
Wisely, he turned his brilliant mind to mixology and began concocting cocktails that captured the plight of academics. The result? Drinks with names like the Remote Instructor (gin, orange juice, cranberry, grenadine, lemon twist) and the Canceled Conference (gin, pomegranate, lemon juice, simple syrup, bitters, lemon twist). Some of the names are bound to make readers burst into laughter, such as The Classmate Who Hasn’t Read but Talks Anyway (vodka, orange juice, Green Chartreuse, orange bitters, orange wedge). In total, the book offers around four dozen recipes, all easily made with readily available ingredients.
Stelzel deserves credit for boldly defending his work:
“Clearly, there are many aspects of academic life that call for a cocktail. A mixed drink can help with coping and commiseration. Perhaps most importantly, a cocktail facilitates new connections, whether at a conference hotel bar or, more recently, over Zoom. … And I believe that in light of the current, severe challenges higher education is facing almost everywhere, fostering the community of academics has never been more essential.”
He couldn’t be more right.
What’s also commendable is that Stelzel chose to publish this book with an academic press, another institution in higher education that has faced its fair share of challenges. These presses are increasingly releasing trade press books to bolster their financial standing.
The Faculty Lounge hit the shelves months before the recent campus tumults surrounding Gaza and the ensuing congressional hearings. I have a strong feeling that this slim volume will find a wide and enthusiastic audience among the professoriate – and perhaps even some university administrators.
The Faculty Lounge: A Cocktail Guide for Academics
by Philipp Stelzel
Indiana University Press, 97pp., $19.99
Kevin R. Kosar is a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute and the author of Moonshine: A Global History (Reaktion Books) and Whiskey: A Global History (Reaktion Books).
How does the book remind us of the importance of forming connections and finding solace in academia
Juice, and a splash of club soda), the Tenure Track (bourbon, sweet vermouth, and a dash of bitters), and the Dissertation Dilemma (vodka, grapefruit juice, elderflower liqueur, and a sprig of rosemary).
But this book is more than just a collection of cocktail recipes. It’s an ode to the struggles, triumphs, and complexities of academia. Each drink is accompanied by a witty anecdote or a thought-provoking reflection on the academic life. Stelzel’s writing is sharp, humorous, and honest, capturing the joys and frustrations of teaching, researching, and navigating department politics.
As I perused the pages of the book, I couldn’t help but reminisce about my own graduate sherry hour and how times have changed. While the books and papers still fill our scholarly havens, the atmosphere has become more subdued, more focused on professionalism and compliance.
But Stelzel’s cocktail guide reminds us that academia is not just about intellectual pursuits and rule-following. It’s about the human experience, the quirks and idiosyncrasies that make us who we are. It’s about forming connections and finding solace in a glass of something strong after a long day of teaching or grading papers.
Thirty years ago, my graduate sherry hour may have been a raucous gathering of scholars, indulging in cheap beer and spirited conversations. Today, it may be a quieter affair, with a select few sharing a glass of wine and discussing the latest research trends.
But one thing remains the same – the spirit of camaraderie and intellectual curiosity that binds us together as academics. And for that, we can raise a glass and toast to the past, present, and future of academia.
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