When you step into Prospect Place, the heart of the anticipated thirteenth and fourteenth residential colleges, it is hard to imagine the gothic minarets and tranquil greens that will in a few years dominate these blocks, a triangular zone enclosed by Sachem, Prospect, and Canal streets. Parts of the area, a scattering of buildings ranging from houses to offices to archives, is now inundated with portables, off-limits fences, and a few wandering construction crews—early signs of the demolition to come. Other buildings and spaces give off an air of normality, with nothing to foreshadow the approaching date when they will suddenly be no more.

“This Building Proposed To Be Demolished,” is the matter-of-fact announcement of a pink sheet taped onto 4 Mansfield St., one of the diverse buildings—some decades-old, others recently built—whose histories will soon come to an end. But what of that history? Are we really letting go of a crucial part of New Haven’s architectural heritage? Or, are those edifices ready to give way to something entirely new—the promise of a greater future for Yale College?

Much of the heated controversy surrounding this area has focused on the proposed blueprints and required construction permits. Little has been said about the old buildings themselves. Differing in style and age, the various structures have over the decades been used for myriad purposes. Of the many buildings, perhaps the ones that most stand out to observers are on Mansfield St.: Hammond Hall, Donaldson Commons, and Mudd Library.

Of these, Hammond Hall is the one most often called an irreplaceable architectural landmark, worthy of historical preservation. According to Anstress Farwell, President of the New Haven Urban Design League, it “could be on the National Register, but isn’t.” Built in 1904 through a donation by John Hays Hammond, PH.B. 1876, its red brick and limestone Beaux-Arts façade stands in stark contrast to its original purpose for metallurgical and mining research. Containing lecture halls and a museum, as well as a laboratory complete with sidings for unloading ore, the building could accurately be described as half-academy and half-factory. Designed by architect W. Gedney Beatty, it was the largest research laboratory of its kind in the United States when first built, hailed by both architects and engineers as groundbreaking and profoundly creative. Originally a part of the Sheffield Scientific School (defunct by the mid-1950s), it was an icon of the new ways of teaching and learning that were reshaping the American campus, as well as a symbol of an era of daring confidence and experimentation in science. Following the completion of other scientific buildings, it has been used since 1970 to house the faculty offices and sculpture studios of the School of Art.

“It served as a playground for the scientists,” explained Farwell. “It was a place where incredibly important research happened, not just in classrooms. The scientists would get nitty-gritty, testing out their new drilling and extraction techniques.”

Right across the street from Hammond Hall, Donaldson Commons is perhaps the liveliest of the buildings designated for demolition. Originally built as a carriage house in the late nineteenth century, it served as the chapel for the Berkeley Divinity School after renovations in 1949. Several renovations later, it is now the dining hall of the Yale School of Management. Described by the Connecticut Trust for Historic Preservation as “one of Yale’s most inviting modern public spaces,” it surrounds a small yet accommodating courtyard.

Crossing Mansfield Street once again, on the corner it shares with Sachem St., one can find the imposing Mudd Library, dating from not-so-distant 1982. Built as a repository for government documents, it possesses imposing, post-modern brick panes, exposed concrete framing, and limestone trim. It cost roughly 27 million dollars to construct Mudd Library, which now houses periodicals and other archived material. While it is closed to the public, one can still ask for the documents and books in its collection through the University Library catalog.

Besides these three large structures, there are several other houses and offices scattered around the triangular area. 124 Prospect St., formerly known as Brewster Hall, is a Georgian Revival house, built a bit over a century ago. Once it was a Sheffield Scientific School residence hall, at another point a fraternity house, and finally an office building for the Political Science department. However, the paraphernalia of construction work surrounds it already; right next to it are portables that house the offices of architects in charge of the various projects and a reference to the coming residential colleges on a sign stating “Yale Health Services + Res Colleges.”

Nearby, already set apart by metal fences designating it as off-limits, is Daniel Cady Eaton House. Designated by the Connecticut Trust for Historic Preservation as a “Most Important Threatened Historic Place,” it is a Greek Revival building that once housed a famous Yale professor. Amos Eaton was well-known in botanical circles through his innovations in classifying plants. As such, his former home still sparks interest in certain academic groups, according to John Herzan, of the New Haven Preservation Trust.

When, exactly, can we expect to see the last of all of these buildings? Some of the demolitions are expected to begin rather soon, given the preparations in place around some of the houses. An example is the Berkeley Apartments, graduate housing once owned by the Berkeley Divinity School, whose construction dates to the nineteenth century. One such house, 4 Mansfield St., is indeed already fenced and inaccessible.

Yet other demolitions may be put on hold for several years. Inside 140 Prospect St., home of the Social Science Library and several departmental offices—and, like many of the area’s buildings, once part of the Berkeley Divinity School (whose campus was acquired by the University in 1971)—there seems to be no sign of any impending abandonment. According to sources in the library itself, information was unavailable as to when the buildings would be demolished. Inside 8 Prospect Pl., a new, yet supposedly temporary home for some of the Sociology Department’s offices, one can see boxes being unpacked and professors settling in.

Whatever the final timetable turns out to be, Yale has decided that all the buildings must go sooner or later. The designs of Robert Stern, Dean of the School of Architecture, have so far shown that none of the preexisting structures will be incorporated into the colleges. It is not the first time that such changes have occurred on our campus. Great buildings have come and gone—from the Old Brick Row to Sheffield Hall, from the original Yale College building to the original Dwight Hall—not to mention the many buildings torn down to make way for all 12 of the preexisting residential colleges. Indeed, it is hard to imagine our campus without the iconic structures that arose in their place.

Nevertheless, preservationists continue to fight against the university to preserve what they believe is part of Yale’s rich heritage. Ultimately, they argue, the tearing down of historic structures is both architecturally detrimental and culturally irresponsible.

“Spaces that incorporate both old and new elements are often more vibrant and exciting,” said Farwell. Instead of tearing down all the buildings on the block, new residential colleges could use the old buildings as dining halls or multipurpose rooms. Specifically, preservation groups claim that the demolition of Mudd Library, constructed in 1982 for 27 million dollars, makes no fiscal sense.

In any case, whether you believe, as Farwell does, that “this is a kind of catastrophic way of approaching an area that has so much significance,” or, as the Yale Tomorrow campaign does, that “expansion stands on the strength of Yale’s residential college system,” it is clear that the designated site will continue to be part of Yale’s history.

By Diego Salvatierra and Bowen Zhang