The Wake

It’s noon on a Friday and Coffman Union is its usual hub of activity: activists debate abortion on the front steps, students in sweatpants study in the first-floor lounge, a handful of bowlers strut their stuff in Goldy’s Gameroom. But, walking into the fourth-floor Campus Club at lunchtime, I enter a different realm, one in which university faculty, staff and their guests schmooze and dine in an ambient, country-club-like dining room. Floor-to-ceiling windows line the dining room’s walls, boasting spectacular views of the Mississippi.

As I grab a table near some suits who can’t be anything other than math professors, I feel somewhat out of place in the members- and-guests-only club. Middle-aged and older diners chat quietly over red snapper and caviar, the day’s special. But, as I dig into my roast chicken and potatoes, I notice a kindred soul across the room: a middle-aged man eating alone in a tattered Vikings cap. In another corner, six maroon-and-gold-clad students chat and laugh over their meals. Somewhere in here, I realize, though it seems worlds away from Coffman’s lower floors, the Campus Club feels like a union for the university’s older, more permanent crowd. And, though its reputation as an old-boys club for the academic elite may be tough to erode, Phil Platt and the Campus Club staff are working hard to welcome the greater university back to the fourth floor.

Established in 1911 in a house on Church Street, the Club moved to Coffman when it opened in 1940. By the time the Union closed for renovations in 1999, things weren’t looking so good.

“I’ve heard it described as a ‘pit,’ ’shambles,’ ‘disaster’ and ’shop-worn,’” Platt says of the late-1990s Club. When the Club closed in 1999, it counted only 400 members.

Today, 1400 members belong to the Club. Faculty, staff and students pay $180 in dues each year, which allows them access to the cafeteria, bar and other special events the Club hosts throughout the year. Lunch prices are similar to other local restaurants ($7 burgers, $6 sandwiches).

Which begs the question: Why would someone pay $180 more a year just to go to the Campus Club instead of going for lunch at, say, Stub & Herb’s?

“It’s the ambiance,” Platt, the marketing and membership director, says. “[The Club] is sophisticated but it’s not snotty.”

It’s also a respectable place for students to meet with a professor, he says.

“Plus,” Platt adds, “it’s the best food for miles.”

He wasn’t kidding. Even this sophisticated palate had a tough time arguing with Duke’s cooking. Duke, the burly executive chef, came to the Club from the Wayzata Country Club in 2003. His addition, along with the physical redecoration, has been key agents in the membership surge, Platt says.

The Campus Club also boasts one feature no Dinkytown two-for-one special can beat: an outdoor terrace overlooking Northrop Mall. Though dormant most of the winter, the patio is jam-packed during warmer months, Platt says. With its picturesque view of the downtown skyline, it’s hard to imagine a better place for an after-class cocktail (or ten).

From the looks of the stock behind the bar, patrons needn’t worry about the Club running out of booze. But thrifty drinkers take note: this ain’t your old man’s liquor cabinet. On a brief stroll through the bar, I couldn’t make out one familiar bottle behind the bar — probably a good sign. No Phillips or Karkov here, friends!

Like any established university-area institution, the Campus Club features a bar menu, although it’s a bit more highbrow than those found in other establishments. Still, they manage to keep prices low. In fact, you’ll likely shell out more for Bullwinkle’s buffalo-wing special than you would for sautéed mussels at the Campus Club bar ($7.95). (But do they have 75-cent taps? Ladies’ night? Free popcorn? I’ll check on that.)

Platt concedes the student body isn’t the Club’s main customer base. In fact, he says, of 1,400 members, only about 28 are students. The annual membership fee might scare off broke college kids. Hell, a $3 cover is too much most nights. The Campus Club seems to realize this, catering instead to faculty, staff and university departments, who often hold luncheon seminars in one of the various meeting rooms. And, though the Club welcomes all students, its staff seems to realize that even moderately priced red snapper and caviar has a tough time competing with Coffman’s chicken nuggets when you’re on a budget.