Zahm is life, not just a dorm
By ROBERT PAZORNIK
Zahm Resident
When you arrived on campus as freshmen, they told you Notre Dame has no fraternities.
They lied.
Located obtrusively betwixt the Golden Dome and North Dining Hall, a certain stone edifice stands proudly erect for all to admire. Since 1937, thousands of Domers past and present have hailed that ivy-clad structure with a reverence usually reserved only for Lou Holtz and visiting pontiffs. While some who attend this school call Notre Dame their one true home, there is a proud group who saves that designation for the hall of Zahm.
From the outside, innocent passersby may only conjecture as to the goings-on which transpire behind Zahm Hall's thick, seemingly soundproof walls. Residents, or "Zahmbies," as some natives prefer, have the privilege of experiencing Zahm firsthand.
"People who don't live here can't imagine what life in this hall really means," said Jim Moravek, a Zahm resident assistant. "It's not like living in a hall with 200 guys; it's like living in a hall with 200 brothers. Zahm life is not dorm life."
Others who live in Zahm concur, living in Zahm Hall is unlike living in any other housing on campus. Most even refuse to call Zahm a dorm.
"Zahm just doesn't fit the traditional definition of a dormitory," said Wally Poirier, a former Zahm resident. "We treat each other like family. We trust each other like family, we play with each other like family, sometimes we fight like family, but above all, we love each other like family."
Some outsiders interpret the brotherly sentiment shared by Zahmbies in a controversial light. But then again, controversy is nothing new to Zahm Hall. As a group, Zahm Hall residents' reputation for illicit activities and characteristic obnoxious behavior precedes them in all facets of the Notre Dame community. Most Zahmbies recognize with some degree of pride that while about 10 percent of the Notre Dame community will take a trip to Main Building for a disciplinary conference sometime during their academic career, the same statistic for Zahm Hall residents is approximately 60 percent.
How then, some ask, has Zahm come to represent a completely different demographic than the average Notre Dame student? Why are they so loyal, so brazen, so different?
According to popular lore, Zahm always has been distinct among the University's residence halls. Way back in the day, when housing was chosen by students in the order of grade point average, Zahm Hall, being farthest from the campus center and closest in proximity to designated freshman dorms, was usually the last choice on students' lists. As a result, those with the lowest grade point averages traditionally congregated in Zahm, making it a haven for the "dregs" of the Notre Dame community.
But what Zahm lacked in academia, it quickly made up for in social skills. Zahm's underbrained and frequently oversauced residents quickly earned the hall an "Animal House" reputation with their frequent parties and no-rules atmosphere. Along with this persona came the advent of initiations, hazing and other questionable "traditions" which briskly guilded the Zahm community into the most fraternal organization on campus.
Long after the system of student choice in dorm assignment was done away with, Zahm's reputation for loyalty and brotherhood lived on, perpetuating itself down from generation to generation of Zahmbies.
In one case, loyalty to Zahm extended even beyond its residents. In 1986, celebrated Zahm rector Father Thomas King took a legendary stand for his sons and beloved hall. Administrative officials, long having become tiresome of Zahm's disreputable behavior, and needing space to accommodate the growing number of female students, strongly considered making Zahm a target for conversion to a women's dormitory.
In a furious reaction to this unchecked aggression, Father King declared that if Zahm were to become a women's dorm, he would "lock himself in his room and set his sons loose on the campus." That is, he would eliminate any regulations governing their conduct for the remainder of the academic year. Furthermore, he warned, after Zahm's conversion, he would continue to live in his room until removed by force.
Fortunately for the University, that never had to happen. And in a related story, men no longer live in Cavanaugh.
Father King, who retired in 1997, still visits his old boys in the dorm of the red Z. Like some revered hero of yore, he mysteriously returns annually to host Zahm's famed Decade Dance, laboriously selecting the playlist, some speculate, months in advance. Then, like a gallant cowboy fading into the sunset over the meadow, disappears back into Corby for another 12 months.
Over time, Zahm has evolved from a simple frat house to a semi-responsible, somewhat respectable community. Unknown to most students, Zahm is home to the highest collective dorm grade point average, the most honors students and the most respected inner-city charity organization of South Bend.
There Are Children Here, a program bringing urban youth out of their hostile home environments, has been hosted by Zahm volunteers and resident staff for nearly a decade.
Zahm interhall sports, though rarely dominant, are without exception the most well attended and supported. The Zahm Fear hockey and Rabid Bats football teams have been constantly bringing Zahmbies together and sometimes ripping the competition apart since the early 20th century.
Zahm has even recently taken an active role in improved gender relations by officially naming Saint Mary's as its new sister dorm, as well as improving campus life by bringing an element of entertainment and sanity to the usually mundane and mind-numbingly ridiculous ceremony of pretense that is our student government election.
At the end of the day, it is difficult to determine exactly what makes Zahm what it is. While tradition, myth, legend and mystery all play vital roles in the living sprit that is Zahm Hall, it is undeniable that there is something deeper which is capable of bonding 200 men to a simple stone structure, and more significantly, to one another.
Said one eloquent Zahmbie of his hall: "It's not a dorm. It's my home."
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Scene Stories for Monday, February 28, 2000
