When I first came to Pomona, I said to myself:
“I may want to live in Oldenborg.”
People kept telling me, even in 2022:
“You can’t live there; they’re going to tear it down very soon, probably even this year, and certainly by next year, because it’s ugly.”
They said this for four years.
The Exterior
There is a bench in front of the building where I once had a long conversation with someone, at night.
A lot of freshmen have semi-disclosing conversations there.
It’s a somewhat private, somewhat public spot, good for confession.
I once applied to live there, but didn’t get accepted, because my French professor would not write me a supporting letter.
Now it is 2026, I am graduating, and they are destroying it this summer.
It is true that it is ugly. Brutalist architecture. Slits for windows. Cold hard tile floors. Even just its name seemed outdated; it by no means felt international.
They’ve been saying this for a long time.
“You have heard some of us speak about the size of the windows in the rest of the building and you know that we have had concern about this from the beginning. I must say they seem even smaller than I had feared. I am sorry to be so gloomy but I think it is important for you to know that I have not heard a single positive comment from any student about the appearance of Oldenborg. I have heard only negative comments about the fortress we are constructing […] I would have to say that I agree with the students as to the exterior appearance.” (1966)
Entrance Hall
Kitchen and Language Tables
From 12:00pm to 1:00pm. Monday to Friday.
The food was never particularly good either. For most of my four years, my relationship to Oldenborg consisted of swiping into the language tables, then sneaking out the back. I came up with this strategy fairly early on.
I had to do it for my French classes. I had a fear of speaking to other people, and especially of speaking to them in French. It’s awkward speaking to people, just for the sake of speaking. Plus my French isn’t good and I felt shame about it.
The foreignness also made the relations and interactions between people in it a bit more private and clumsy, which was perhaps a natural consequence when one spoke for the sake of speaking.
Language Lounges
The place where conversation classes and study breaks take place. A popular spot for studying (or hanging out) late at night. Some are decorated with more love than others.
Japanese Lounge
Russian Lounges
Spanish Lounges
German Lounge
Chinese Lounge
French Lounge
Thus being in Oldenborg rendered one’s presence specific, sometimes earnest, but only vaguely so.
Most people probably only visited Oldenborg during the day, but some students experienced it at night, too. The building was even uglier in the dark. Harsh lighting. Popcorn ceilings and walls. It is also very difficult to navigate. It’s like a winding maze.
Dorms
But everyone tolerated its ugliness, somewhat tenderly: living there was one of the only ways you could get a private dorm and bathroom as an underclassman, so it was enviable to live there.
In that sense Oldenborg wielded a certain duality. It was ugly, but nonetheless desirable. People didn’t necessarily always want to eat there, speak to others there, but they wanted to live there.
The Basement
The basement embodies the very spirit of Oldenborg: it houses a broken-down pinball machine that everyone knows, as well as a very long and particularly eerie corridor. Several students filmed horror projects there.
And as far as I can remember, everyone said it was going to get destroyed because it was ugly and old. For a long time this made sense to me, and I was glad. Perhaps if its destruction had not been delayed for so long I would never have given it another thought.
But now that the time has come, I ask myself:
Who designed it? (Piercy Kay Reibsamen)… Why did they make it so ugly? (Partly by mistake, partly due to budget constraints)… Why are they tearing it down? Why now? Why did they wait so long?
Does it deserve to be destroyed because it is ugly and old?
Photos and words by Maggie Zhang, PO ’26