Nostalgia

The Glenwood Restaurant (Google Street View screen capture)

Our sentimentality for the past, particularly for times with happy personal associations, tends to increase as we grow older. We fondly remember relationships, places, and significant experiences, reflecting upon how they shaped us and provided our lives with meaning. It’s not surprising then that we lament the loss of things we associate with those happy moments. We long for the “good old days,” times when life somehow seemed more joyful. Our memories are part of our identity, reminding us of who we have been. They connect us with those we shared our lives with. They become bittersweet when we realize there’s no going back. Such is the paradox of life.

I was saddened this past week when I learned the Glenwood Restaurant on Alder Street near the University of Oregon campus (and the 7-Eleven convenience store next door—no great loss from an urban design perspective) will be razed to make way for the construction of yet another massive student-oriented housing project. “Say it isn’t so,” was my first thought. The Glenwood (and the cozy old house it has occupied for the past 43 years) has been a fixture of the West University neighborhood ever since I first arrived in Eugene. Its scale, appearance, and connections to specific events in my life are indelibly mapped in my mind’s image of the area.

Though I can’t count myself as a truly devoted patron, it hasn’t been uncommon for me to occasionally enjoy one of the hearty plates from the Glenwood's breakfast and brunch menu. Without a doubt, a huge part of the restaurant’s appeal are the unique quirks of occupying an amiably repurposed little building. Corporate chain restaurants are fine when you’re looking for predictable prices and food quality, but their soulless ubiquity and uniformity are the reasons why they rarely figure prominently in our mental maps. A one-of-a-kind eatery like the campus Glenwood contributes legibility to our perception of the urban environment in a way a chain restaurant (say an Applebee’s or Panera Bread franchise) cannot.

Likewise, another 12-story, student apartment block on the landscape will contribute less to the imageability of the neighborhood in the mind’s eye of many. Despite their bulk, I suspect most people will ultimately perceive the recent crop of mega-sized, luxury student housing projects as background elements, part of the fabric from which our mental maps are formed as opposed to being memorable landmarks in their own right. The key to the success of any new development will thus be the degree to which it provides us with accommodating backdrops or stages against or upon which the memorable moments of our lives are played out.

The loss of the Glenwood does beg the question: What is sustaining the proliferation of all these new amenity-laden luxury student housing projects? With so many built in recent years or currently under construction in Eugene, surely the demand is about to be filled, right? The fact is it has yet to be sated. There are several reasons why this is so.

Notwithstanding 2020’s pandemic-induced drop, enrollment at the University of Oregon has steadily increased over the years. Current enrollment tops 22,000, of which more than 18,000 are undergraduate students (the student body population when I was in school four decades ago was around 13,000). The UO says it received nearly 33,000 applications for fall 2021 admission, so the university can afford to be choosy. While providing opportunities for in-state students is a mandate, international and out-of-state students who pay full fare are attractive targets as their attendance offsets reduced state support for higher education.

International and out-of-state students tend to come from wealthier families more capable of paying the expensive rents associated with newer buildings. To compete for their dollars, developers are providing private bedrooms and bathrooms, fitness centers, fast wi-fi, on-site entertainment, secure parking, and other de rigueur amenities, all wrapped in the trappings of high-end packages. Generally, affluent parents want a higher level of student living for their children than they and past generations endured.

Student rentals are attractive because landlords can charge more per square foot than they can for other sectors of the residential market. And if the market dictates, they can raise rents annually because students typically sign one-year leases.

Moreover, much of the off-campus housing stock is aging. Owners are reluctant to invest in maintaining their deteriorating facilities, or simply cannot afford to compete with the new projects. The upshot is these older properties are liabilities, while the land they sit upon is increasingly valuable. This creates pressures to redevelop in an effort to maximize that value and generate positive revenue streams for investors.

The bottom line is the student housing market is one of the most profitable segments of real estate development, one that market analysts suggest remains underserved.

A considerable downside of the high-priced new developments is how they further exacerbate the socioeconomic divide between the wealthy and the less well-to-do. Increasingly, they will segregate rich students from their poorer classmates, while pushing up other off-campus rents. This trend is counter to our community’s goals for enhancing equity, diversity, and inclusion.

I get why the Glenwood’s owner, Jacqui Willey, sold her restaurant. As she said when speaking with Eugene Weekly, the challenges of doing business at the location have grown over the years, compounded by the stresses of COVID-19 closures and restrictions. She wants to retire, and the campus location was a valuable part of her retirement portfolio. I would almost certainly have done the same if I was in her position. Conversely, the property is worth a lot to the California developer who bought it from her. Putting myself in the developer’s shoes, I would have likewise recognized the site’s potential and the logic of replacing the Glenwood with a lucrative new student apartment building.

This doesn’t make the news of the Glenwood’s demise easy to accept. Am I simply being nostalgic? Perhaps. Nostalgia for fond memories or familiar things we have lost or are about to lose is natural. Acknowledging that nostalgia and how it relates to the present can help us better understand the current condition, who we are, and what we want to be. We shouldn’t attempt to replicate the Glenwood, even in spirit. Its time is now done. Instead, we can look forward to remembering it with affection. The value of reminiscing is its ability to strengthen our sense of identity, help us move forward with optimism, and provide inspiration.