Editor’s Note: This is the first story in a two-part From the Archives series on the Sorin Seven. The second story was published on Wednesday, March 17.
The front page of The Observer on Nov. 2, 1976 reeks of drama.
The headline: “Roemer throws seven off campus for parties.”
The photo: the bleak, dilapidated remains of what once was the third-floor Sorin Hall bar.
The photo’s caption: “Mirrors and wood paneling — all that’s left of the Doo Drop Inn at Sorin.”
Don‘t worry — we were just as curious as you are. This week’s edition of From the Archives chronicles the plight of the Sorin Seven — a story of fireworks, campus exile and administrative oversight.
And if you look closely enough, the story of the Seven is strikingly similar to the state of campus politics in the age of COVID-19. Looks like some things never change. Death, taxes and Du Lac violations, right?
Dean Roemer kicks Sorin Seven off campus, cites Du Lac violations
November 2, 1976 | Chris Smith | Researched by Maggie Clark
Wild behavior in dorms is an anomaly these days: Masks are the norm, quiet hours seem to be 24/7 and interaction is largely limited to those who reside in the same rooms. But this was hardly the case in 1976 — in fact, the once-infamous “Sorin Seven” embodied rebelliousness within Notre Dame’s on-campus community. The seven resided in a four-room suite on the third floor of Sorin Hall, which included a large circular room — known by the Seven as “the turret room.”“[The turret room] was fixed up, paneled and set up as a bar. It was called the Doo Drop Inn,” Dean of Students James Roemer told The Observer. “They had parties. They brought up a keg for one party. A rather loud, rowdy atmosphere surrounded the Doo Drop Inn. Thus, they are violating University regulations.”But the Seven’s antics extended far beyond those of a typical dorm party — additional allegations against the Sorin residents included water balloons and beer bottles being thrown out of the window, as well as “[c]ontinued use of fireworks in the hall and out the windows, to the extent that carpeting and walls were burnt.” Despite their blatant rule-breaking behavior, the seven men said they “were unaware they were considered a problem in Sorin Hall,” but accounts from Sorin hall staff indicate a lengthy series of disciplinary interventions. “There were informal and formal warnings given,” Jim Dragna, resident assistant of Sorin’s third floor, said. “We had hall staff meetings — sometimes until four in the morning — over this group. ... The thing built up. It went too far. Finally, we had to go to Roemer.” And once the issue was passed on to Roemer, the ensuing disciplinary action was swift. The students were given written notice of their relocation on the morning of Thursday, Oct. 28, 1976, and were expected to be out of Sorin by 6 p.m. the following Sunday.Sorin community members speak out, defend Sorin Seven
November 5, 1976 | Letter to the Editor | Researched by Chris Russo
In the wake of the Sorin Seven’s abrupt ejection from campus, six students, none of whom were members of the infamous group, penned a Letter to the Editor. Their words expressed sympathy for Sorin Seven as they mocked the University’s reasoning for their punishment. They also offered a harsh critique of the University's handling of the matter and the possible implications for social life on campus. The co-authors — Patrick Mannion, Arnold Gough, Tony Miller, Bill Tomkiewicz, John Van Gilder and Michael Thomassen — employed humor to satirize the Sorin Seven’s “transfer” off of campus. “If [the use of fireworks and water balloons] were always punished by such severe measures, quite a few people would have to greatly curtail their extra-academic ‘fun,’” the students wrote. “Fireworks will be hidden and balloon sales will plummet, [their] use solely reserved for decorations and by female impersonators.” Despite their satirical tone, one cannot help but notice the co-authors’ overt commentary on the University’s response to the Sorin Seven. They write that the administration’s actions “should put quite a scare into a majority of students,” reasoning that the Sorin Seven’s alleged activities were not uncommon behaviors throughout campus. The authors argue that Dean Roemer should have pursued a more “conservative and judicious” response, worrying that group members were unfairly labeled as “troublemakers.” Roemer stated that his decision to transfer the student off-campus was not a disciplinary action — still, the group was banned from stepping foot in Sorin Hall for the remainder of their undergraduate careers. The authors’ critical attitudes might even speak to the current relationship between the Office of Community Standards and students — both on campus and off. They admiringly claim that the Sorin Seven broke up the “monotonous atmosphere which usually permeates the campus.” They persistently question the efficacy of the University's response to rowdy behavior, advocating that the Sorin Seven's habits are a necessary component of on-campus life. And even when the Seven did make it off campus, they still felt controlled by an administrative iron fist — a sentiment many current off-campus students might resonate with. In a Letter to the Editor written almost a year after their removal from Sorin Hall, three members of the Seven offered their dual perspective of overbearing administrative oversight.