C abell Hall: one of the first names you were thrown as an unindoctrinated first-year student at orientation - the one you mispronounced when you were less University-savvy. It was the name that, when you first heard it, made you wonder about the location of the building - but probably not its historical background. Even now, when someone mentions Cabell Hall, you're probably more likely to imagine that dreaded 8 a.m. Spanish section than an actual man named Joseph Carrington Cabell.
Third-year College student Alejandro Velez has attended classes in Cabell for several semesters. But, while he is familiar with the building itself, he has "not once" heard of the man who was Jefferson's friend and a member of the Board of Visitors.
Almost every building students routinely pass on Grounds bears the name of a person. Most of these people are long dead, but all were living and breathing at one point. And those still alive today are able to see their legacy engraved with permanence in the stone, metal and wood.
"Where did the name Cocke Hall come from?" Fourth-year College student Stephanie Pauling asks, echoing the query of many smirking students.
The truth is that Cocke Hall probably receives a lot more attention now than Gen. John Hartwell Cocke ever would have been comfortable with in his life. Cocke was a 33-year Board member and was known for his religiously devout nature. As the president of the Temperance Society, he championed missions of Bible societies. He also wrote in his diary a condemnation of Jefferson for his alleged relationships with female slaves.
Despite the example of General Cocke, however, there is no doubt that colorful histories lie behind many names of buildings at the University.
To begin, the general rule in naming buildings is that residential dormitories are named after professors while academic buildings are named after significant donors, according to Raymond Bice, retired University historian and former secretary of the Board.
Bonnycastle residence hall, for example, was named for one of the University's original professors, Charles Bonnycastle, who died in 1840. This teacher of natural philosophy was supposedly so shy that he would go to outrageous lengths to avoid a student - even climbing over fences and walking through mud. So it may seem a bit ironic that Bonnycastle's death was eventually attributed to his habit of never taking exercise.
Another dormitory was named for John Patten Emmet. Emmet taught natural history in the early 1800s, and he proved his interest in life science by keeping a fantastic menagerie of pet snakes, a white owl and even a domesticated bear in Pavilion I. Needless to say, the small zoo was discontinued upon his marriage.
A similarly important building, Runk Dining Hall, is known nowadays for its cozy, intimate feel. B.F.D. Runk, whose name the cafeteria bears, was well known for a different reason. Appointed dean of the University in the 1950s, he apparently had quite a reputation among students on Grounds - and it wasn't all good. In fact, Runk was hanged in effigy after his announcement that only fourth years would be allowed to have cars on Grounds. Rioting students pushed a burning car onto University Avenue and could only be dispersed by police with tear gas and clubs.
Behind the patron of Rouss Hall lies one of the most interesting stories. Charles Broadway Rouss was neither affiliated with the University nor was he a former student or teacher.
Originally from Winchester, he was a New York City businessman and donor of $35,000 to the University in the late 19th century. Rouss was one of the richest men in the country by 1902, when his business grossed $15 million annually.
But he had not always enjoyed such financial success. In fact, it was when he was in debtor's prison that he vowed to make $1 million by age 60. And he succeeded even beyond his dreams.
Later in his life, however, Rouss discovered that some things could not be purchased with money. When he realized he was going blind in 1891, Rouss offered $1 million to anyone who could restore his eyesight. He even hired a blind man who had the same affliction to be a guinea pig for the cure efforts. Eventually, all his trials were to no avail.
"It's kind of paradoxical," second-year College student Julie Young said. She wonders why the University would allow the building that houses her economics class to be associated with Rouss. "I don't think his actions were very honorable," she said.
In the end, Charles Rouss' sight failed, but the memorial to his bequest stands even today.
Rouss' example conveys the sense of immortality that a name can give. Understandably, therefore, it is a coveted honor to have a building bear one's name.
The Names Committee, a lesser-known, but significant, University council, is where the process of immortality begins.
The committee consists of about 10 people, including two student representatives. One of the students is the student member of the Board and the other is an at-large delegate nominated by Student Council, according to Pam Higgins, the University's director of major events .
Different factors may qualify a person to have a building named after him or her. One is a person's eminence and service in regard to the University. Another is money. A donor of more than 51 percent of a building's cost is allowed to suggest a name to the committee, said Jenny Wyss-Jones, assistant for the senior vice president of development and public affairs.
But the suggestion of a name by a donor doesn't guarantee that it will be chosen. One issue that is taken into account is appropriateness.
"If someone suggested naming a building Hitler, that probably wouldn't happen," Wyss-Jones said.
The donor name suggestion policy is at least partly from necessity, because it encourages giving. Alexander Gilliam, secretary to the Board, explains that the University has been forced to rely more heavily on private donors since 1990, when there was a budget crisis that took money away from the school.
Some students like Velez disagree with using building names as incentives, and instead believe that names "should be exclusive to people who were important to the University."
The reality is that, almost without exception, donor-suggested names are accepted.
Once a donor suggests a name, the committee researches that individual. Research is required to prevent any negative information about the person from surfacing later, forcing a building's name to be revoked. This has happened at other universities, though fortunately not here, said Cathy Hitchcock, a member of the staff for the committee.
A name that has been researched and recommended by the committee will then be presented to the Building and Grounds Committee of the Board for a vote.
According to Gilliam, most names that come before the Board are approved. "The Board relies on the recommendation of the Names Committee," he said.
After approval, the name, followed by "Hall" or "Auditorium" or "House," will grace a University building.
The cost of funding a building has increased dramatically since the days of Rouss' $10,000 donation for the construcation of his namesake. Currently, a donation typically will need to be at least several million dollars.
In January 2001, a gift of $15 million from alumnus Gregory H. Olsen, president and CEO of Sensors Unlimited Inc., was received for the construction of a new department of materials science and engineering building.
The building will be named Wilsdorf Hall, at the request of the donor, to honor the late Heinz Wilsdorf, first chair of the department, and his wife, Doris Kuhlmann-Wilsdorf.
Planned to begin construction in 2002, the new structure will connect the University's materials science and chemical engineering buildings.
And though this most recent donation honors a University faculty member, the givers often "name buildings after themselves," Hitchcock said. She added that although there was less motivation for "name recognition" during the 1980s, it seems there is more of an effort now for donors to "put their stamp on the University."
Fourth-year College student Rob Cavanagh, though realizing that names bring money to the school, questions the current trend.
"You would think just making a difference to the University would be enough," he said.
Sometimes, so many donors give significant amounts of money to one area of the University that the naming becomes a little confusing. For instance, in 1931 when the stadium was built, University Rector Frederic William Scott and his wife, Elizabeth Strother Scott, contributed to the effort. The name Scott Stadium honored Mr. Scott's parents. In 1995, a gift for the installation and maintenance of a grass field in the stadium was given by alumnus David A. Harrison III. Then in 1997, Carl Smith donated money for structural improvements, such as new tiers of suites and an arcade.
So, combining all the names, a Virginia football game technically is played at David A. Harrison III Field at Scott Stadium at the Carl Smith Center.
"Think of the sportscasters," Gilliam said, laughing. "I always said maybe we ought to sell the yard lines too"
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