THE LITTLE HOUSE ON INSPIRATION POINT

Do students at Principia College know what it really means to be alone? Perhaps the current state of the Writer’s Cabin indicates that they do not. Layers of dust rest undisturbed on the exposed surfaces in the single-room log cabin sitting perched on the bluffs, overlooking the Illinois River. There is no electricity, only a fireplace, a few books on a shelf, a couple of chairs, and a table.

Principia’s Writer’s Cabin, concealed 50 meters below the ridgetop trail about a quarter mile north of the Chapel, as it has been for 82 years, is rarely used anymore. It has been the site of creative work since 1936.

But even the current holder of the key, Lowery RCE Paul Needham, is unaware if anyone uses it anymore. He recalls last making use of its cozy isolation in the cold late fall of 2016, writing several hours each day and building a fire to keep warm.

He doesn’t know if it has been used since. What was once a popular place for writers seeking an isolated place offered nowhere else on campus, is now something students know little about.

There have been several efforts to try to restore the Writer’s Cabin to its original shape and impact on student life, according to Principia’s archives and past publications, but none have lasted. It was restored in 1992, but closed in 1998, then reopened several years later.

The English Department and friends, a group of students who work with the department, have worked on restoring it twice, says English professor Dinah Ryan. The second time they really put an effort into making it more comfortable, stocking it with resources and a new chair. But who takes care of it now?

“I have no idea,” Ryan responded, “I wish I knew.”

The idea for the cabin came from a senior in the class of 1936, David Hellyer. He, along with others, felt there was a need for a retreat that would provide a quiet and inspiring atmosphere for creative work. His idea was quickly approved by the administration, and the cabin originally called “The Little House on Inspiration Point” began construction.

It was designed by Bernard Maybeck’s top assistant, Edward Hussey, but was almost entirely built and funded by the senior class of 1936. It was their class gift, according to several records in the Principia Archives. During the transition to the Elsah location, students took part in building the campus, and the Writer’s Cabin is a legacy of their labor.

Fredrick E. Morgan, the son of the college’s founder, was president in 1936, and approved the Writer’s Cabin purpose in a letter to Hellyer. Morgan said it would be for individual study by those seeking an atmosphere that lends itself to creative work of significant quality.

After its completion, the cabin was left in the hands of the Phi Alpha Eta club at Principia College, an honorary scholastic society that recognized the highest academic achievers. Phi Alpha Eta oversaw the cabin beginning in 1942 and is inconsistently credited in yearbooks with maintaining it until 1971. The group also helped restore the cabin in 1992, and still recognizes academic achievement on campus today.

For a time, Phi Alpha Eta had a 10-cent fee for each use, along with requiring general respect for the cabin. Although it was not always respected throughout the decades, Doug Brown, a recent RCE, unknowingly followed tradition during his recent regular use of the cabin as a place to write. He would do a chore that would leave the cabin in better shape, such as dusting cobwebs or sweeping, each time he used it, he says.

But those small chores are not being performed by anybody today.

There was once a register book kept in the cabin, in which people would document what they did or how they enjoyed their time in the Writer’s Cabin. But this book disappeared in the 60s, according to a 1972 Principia Pilot article.

Although the rise in technology changed the way students work, the atmosphere provided by the cabin is still.

“You can see through the window and see a beautiful shimmer of sunshine reflecting off the river,” says Brown, who discovered the cabin while walking his dog after becoming an RCE. “You feel like you’re someplace completely different.”

He used the cabin every fall and spring for three years, several times a week for a couple of hours, writing, reading, and enjoying the peace and quiet. He described the cabin as a place to “relax, and enjoy being totally disconnected from everything around you. When that happens, you can relax, you can think more, you can absorb more.”

“I can’t get enough of being alone with my thought,” agrees Needham, who Brown introduced to the cabin. For him, the view at the Writer’s Cabin provided the blank wall that he needed to think. As a student at the college in the early 90s, Needham wasn’t even aware the Writer’s Cabin existed.

Only six to seven students requested the key to the cabin throughout the years from about 2014 to 2016, according to Brown, who held the key during that time. But those small numbers have diminished even further.

“I think many people don’t know about it,” says Ryan. “If it’s off of my screen, it’s probably off of a lot of people’s screens.”

But the problem of the cabin’s neglect perhaps goes further than unclear protocols and information on it.

In an age of technology, going to the cabin means being unplugged, and not having electricity discourages writers who rely on laptops.

“Reading quietly at length [is something] people just don’t do,” Ryan reluctantly admits. “That’s the message we get from this busy-ness culture…that we’re supposed to be with other people…and we’re supposed to be active and we don’t see reading and thinking and writing as active.”

This mindset would make it hard to find gratification in the cabin, she says.

“That’s one of the ways the writer’s cabin could bless the campus” Ryan suggests, offering her hopes for what the cabin could potentially become, “because it could start to reverse that.”

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Courtesy of Principia Archives and Special Collections, Principia College, Elsah, IL