J.T. Batson's introduction to the Branner mystique was, well, Brannerish.
He arrived several days early last September, before the other 182 frosh assigned to the dorm, to start a job with the varsity soccer program. And he had dyed his usually brown hair blond. “One of the RAs looked at me and was, like, ‘You don’t live here.’”
Batson had unwittingly circumvented the RA practice of identifying frosh from photos mailed in the previous spring. But he survived the initial rebuff and has become one of Branner’s most enthusiastic supporters. He even spent the summer on campus, working as an orientation coordinator, to help create an inviting atmosphere for the incoming Class of 2006. Just one hitch: none of them will live where he did. Branner, which was built in the early 1920s, will be closed this year for renovations. Under the University’s 18-year capital improvement program, it’s Branner’s turn to receive seismic retrofitting, electrical upgrades, a plumbing overhaul, and new paint and carpet.
That’s right. Come September, the dorm that usually houses more than 10 percent of the freshman class will be unoccupied and inaudible. No “Branner Presents” speakers or eight-foot B-R-A-N-N-E-R lawn letters. No musicals, spelling bees or sand-castle build-a-thons. And that has generations of Brannerites worried. For whom, they ask with gnashing angst, will the familiar chorus rise, “Branner sucks!”?
“The thought that the Class of ’06 will not have Brannerites really saddens me,” says Julie Lythcott-Haims, ’89, assistant vice provost and dean of freshmen and transfer students—and former Branner RA. “I think it will be interesting to see who rushes in to claim that spot and fill that vacuum.”
So it’s an envy thing?
“I think it’s more about bashing,” Batson says about The Chant. “They can only bash Cal for one weekend, but they can do us for the entire year.”
Associate professor of history Kennell Jackson, the resident fellow in Branner since 1980, says it’s not easy to define the Branner mystique. He says a Daily writer tried to get it down on paper back in 1986, citing the size of the dorm, its reputation for extroverted residents, its ability to maintain a consistent culture despite 100 percent annual turnover. But the aura remains elusive.
“Some people think Branner’s all right, and other people are horrified by it,” Jackson says. “It can be very rambunctious and it can test your patience. It’s entertaining and it has its primitive elements. But Branner is really about tolerance and eclecticism, with a ‘live and let live’ philosophy, where everybody can find a place.” Even after they change their hair color.
