When it comes to hidden gems on the University of Chicago campus, it’s hard to beat the assortment of carved stone men, beasts and inanimate objects clinging to various buildings.
But aside from the monumental examples residing atop Cobb Gate, the rest of the gargoyle-like figures strewn across campus often fade into the background of busy college life, either shrouded in green ivy or hidden up high. However, for those who find themselves eye-to-eye with these campus-wide sentinels, the question of how these figures came to make the University their home and their significance may spring to mind.
UChicago art historian Michael Camille began his book Image on the Edge: The Margins of Medieval Art with such a question.
“What do they all mean, those lascivious apes, autophagic dragons, pot-bellied heads … that protrude at the edges of medieval buildings, sculptures and illuminated manuscripts?” wrote the late Mary L. Block Professor of Art and the College.
Although UChicago dates back to 1891, not 1291, similar features perch on the edges of the buildings of its main campus, beckoning to those who know where to look.
A hallmark of Neo-Gothic style, the gargoyle and its compatriots have been constant companions on the UChicago campus since its inception. Strictly speaking, most of the figures are grotesques, as they lack the waterspout and functionality of a gargoyle.
From depictions of prehistoric lizards to imagined chimeras, the assortment of stone carvings across campus is diverse. The following three locations on the UChicago main quadrangle have a special history to their neo-Gothic ornamentation.
Cobb Gate
Cobb Gate—the entrance to UChicago’s Main Quadrangles—is named after its architect, Henry Ives Cobb, who drew heavily from the neo-Gothic style in his campus designs.
Though no indication can be found in Cobb’s schematics, legend says the “gargoyles” on Cobb Gate represent the undergraduate’s journey at UChicago. The first-year, lowest in their progression, looks outward, taking in their new surroundings. The second-years have their eyes focused on their remaining climb, and the third-year covets the proud fourth-year’s prized position at the zenith.
This process is safeguarded by the outward-facing grotesques perched on Cobb Gate’s corners, representative of admissions officers.
So the legend goes.
Ryerson Physical Laboratory
The grotesques that lurk on the edges of Ryerson Physical Laboratory are more careful about being detected. To see the limestone hangers-on, one must look up. Winged, grimacing gargoyles overlook the Main Quad from their positions just below Ryerson’s crenelated rooftop as well as jutting along Ryerson’s tower.
The building gets its name from Martin A. Ryerson, a critical early financial supporter of the University and president of the board of trustees from 1892 to 1922.
“It was Ryerson who guided the deliberations of the Committee on Buildings and Grounds in its choice of Henry Ives Cobb and a neo-Gothic design of the first campus master plan,” Prof. John W. Boyer wrote in his book The University of Chicago: A History.
Boyer currently holds the Martin A. Ryerson Distinguished Service Professorship—another mark of Ryerson’s impact at UChicago.
At night, Ryerson’s tower can be easily picked out across the Main Quads by its red glow. This light assists the observation of the cosmos, which is conducted by the Ryerson Astronomical Society, a recognized student organization on campus.
Rosenwald Hall
The grotesques on Rosenwald Hall’s exterior hint at the building’s original purpose. Stone reproductions of Limnoscelis—a prehistoric reptilian from the Lower Permian period—and petrified seashells and coral decorate its sides. Sir George Lyell, a renowned Scottish geologist, is also said to be depicted on Rosenwald Hall.
The most accessible grotesque is squarely at eye-level at the western basement entrance. Emblazoned with the motto “Dig and discover,” this carving consists of a satchel with two handpicks, ready for fieldwork, and two rounded shells.
Rosenwald originally housed the Department of Geology and the Department of Geography and the departments’ collection of books and maps.
Nowadays, Rosenwald is notably home to the Office of College Admissions. A variety of departments, such as the Linguistics Department and the Department of Comparative Human Development, can also be found on its upper floors.
However, the spirit of Rosenwald’s original purpose lives on in the English Department, which can be found in Walker Museum, the building adjoined to Rosenwald—whose original purpose was similarly suited to the pursuit of knowledge in the geological sciences. Its departmental newsletter, “The Dirt,” still uses the motto “Dig and discover.”
The Meaning
Aside from the grandeur of the Cobb Gate grotesques, it can be easy to overlook the diverse array of faces scowling or jeering at passersby.
Other notable locales where gargoyles and grotesques go to roost include Harper Memorial Library, with its depictions of scribes and philosophers strewn across its exterior, and Rockefeller Chapel, where Dante and Milton can be found by its eastern entrance.
As for their meaning?
“I am more interested in how they pretend to avoid meaning,” Camille wrote in Image on the Edge, “how they seem to celebrate the flux of ‘becoming’ rather than ‘being.’”