It was the Spring of 1999. We had an intelligent man in the White House, Wannamaker Drive connected to Towerview Road and Duke Men's Basketball had its most talented starting line-up ever (I'll put Brand, Battier, Avery, Carrawell and Langdon up against any 5 in Devils History). At the same time, a local dram shop had reached the climax of its existence. It was indeed the place where everybody knew your name, and yes, they were always glad you came. 40s of Hurricanes flowed liked wine, and $1 Busch Lights were available at your beckon call.
There was no cover (unless a band was playing), hardly ever a line, and all students were welcomed....no matter what their faith, creed of affiliation. Where Grad students actually had an evening designated to them without having to deal with the undergrads (Tuesdays, but hey, better than nothing). Where you could have a happy hour on a Friday afternoon without having to find a designated driver. Where a busted Thursday, Friday, or Saturday Night could become a night to remember.
Now most of you are probably thinking that this place must have been on Franklin Street, Ninth Street or Main Street, but in all actuality all you had to do was follow the smell of garbage from Han's Chinese Food (not on campus anymore, no explanation needed) and walk down the BC Walkway stairs and you were there... The Hideaway.
Duke's own on-campus bar encompassed the ideals of a Duke social life that made other college students envious of our campus culture. You could find an organic chemistry study group getting a last call after a long night of studying. Old dorm-mates who had not seen each other since Freshman year would buy each other a round, or two. A man with his guitar would play classic rock songs on your request, and if he wasn't jammin' the jukebox would be a'rockin. TVs broadcasted sporting events, Fooseball reigned in the near corner of the bar, and there was a pool table too! Student owners (yes this was a business Duke Students could invest in) were always bartending, and were quick with a joke or to light up your smoke. The bathrooms were sub-par, but they had character. Granted, by the end of the night, most gentlemen opted to use the facility behind the bushes in the patio area, but nobody seemed to mind. Bottom line, it was our bar.
I can vividly remember sitting outside on one of those benches with a good friend on a Wednesday Night in February, looking up at the stars, holding a frothy beverage in one hand, the other hand in my fleece, and talking about anything and everything. True, I don't remember this night in particular, but I am sure I had many nights similar to it. This was not a frat scene, and I must really emphasize that because although any group could rent out The Hideaway, by the end of the night it would open up to all. Anyone and everyone could "Slideaway to the Hideaway." The question running through your minds right now must be "what happened?"
I am sure that this year's Senior Class remembers the Hideaway, and some of them maybe got a chance to experience it if they had a fake ID. However, like all dynasties, The Hideaway had reached its peak, and by the 2000-2001 Academic Year it was in a decline. At the end of Spring 2001 the bars were ripped out (check with KA if you want to see a Duke artifact), and the gates were closed for good. I have been told that it is now a "social space," which I guess means that it was not a social place before. Excuses and explanations from various administrators do not tell the truth of The Hideaway's demise: you could not crack down on alcohol on-campus with an on-campus bar. What message would this send out? Well, I will tell you the truth.
Duke used to pride itself on a safe and social culture that seemed to blend in perfectly with the students' "study hard, party hard" attitude. Yes, some partied more and studied less than others, but The Hideaway was a safe haven. Duke students were and to this day are responsible enough to look out for one another. The security and comfort of a campus bar meant that Duke EMS could be there like Johnny-on-the-spot, and if someone got out of line, we would know whom he or she was because a student would recognize them. People respected both The Hideaway, and what it meant to students who wanted to have good clean fun.
The closing of The Hideaway not only changed the campus social scene, but also demonstrated a lack of trust by University administrators in the student body. The message sent by these officials was that we were not responsible enough to be given this privilege, and therefore, it would cease to exist. As much as some students believe that the crack-down on fraternities has ruined the campus social scene, I would argue that the loss of The Hideaway, more than any frat-guy wearing Reefs, has led to students going off campus in search of their good times. The Hideaway was a social common place that could bring all students together more so than any Greek Fest, tailgate party, formal, and even K-Ville. Unfortunately, three current classes of Duke Students will not have the opportunity to experience what so many others of their peers from years past have embedded in their Duke memories. As Duke prepares to welcome a new University President for the 2004-2005 Academic Year, it should also welcome back The Hideaway to bring back a fervor to campus that has been absent for too long. (David Nefouse wants you all to know that he still wears Reefs to this day, and he was never in an organic chemistry study group...although he had a drink with them).
David Nefouse is a second-year law student his column appears regularly.
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