To borrow liberally from ee cummings: Where did you go, little CoHo? The Axe & Palm is certainly shiny and new, but why did it have to replace the Coffee House? Last year, students were told that the Axe & Palm would add to eating options on campus, but swapping the cozy, worn-in CoHo for the sterile Old Union eatery doesn’t equal a net gain.

Chief among the reasons cited that the CoHo had to go is that it wouldn’t have been able to compete financially with the Axe & Palm, but such a rationale misses the point: students didn’t go to the CoHo just to buy food; they went to the CoHo to socialize in a low-key environment. It wasn’t a sweaty frat party. It didn’t feel like a corporate cafeteria. It was a welcome change from a dorm. Perhaps most importantly, the CoHo was one of the few places on campus that felt as though it could have existed outside of Stanford-land, easily found on any street corner in any city.

The Axe & Palm tries so hard to do everything right. The lighting is conducive to reading. The food is reasonably priced. There are a variety of booths and nooks for group meetings. But the place just doesn’t have soul. The CoHo’s dingy lighting, beaten-up couches and cheesy split-log tables with moldy wildflowers trapped underneath the lacquer may not have been glitzy, but it sure felt like home.

The CoHo had a whole culture and set of connotations surrounding it. Everyone knew that if you agreed to meet someone at the CoHo, it counted as a half-date. Campus bands were nothing until they played on the CoHo stage. If you planned to study with your friends there, it was clear that a night of gossiping and crepe-eating — and little actual studying — was about to transpire.

While on the subject of crepe-eating, root beer floats, onion rings and breakfast served all day are all well and good, but CoHo crepes were an institution. Granted, they were only introduced in 2005, but their popularity is unquestionable. They were different. They were delicious. They came in savory or sweet.

What will happen to the space abandoned by the CoHo’s closing? There are rumors that the location will be rented out to the highest bidder. If this is true, national corporations will have the financial advantage. Such a conversion would be a disaster, though in line with campus precedent. See: Jamba Juice, Subway, FedEx-Kinko’s and Peet’s Coffee & Tea.

Using the Tresidder dining area as a case in point, spaces on campus don’t have to be thoughtfully planned or particularly unique to be utilized. Just as students flock to Peet’s and Subway, they are almost as certain to buy food from the Axe & Palm and to make use of whatever services are ultimately offered in the CoHo’s footprint. The sad truth of the matter is that the Stanford Bubble chains students to on-campus resources — regardless of their quality.

While the CoHo had a vibrant and dynamic tradition, its quiet closing all but ensures that the memory of the place will fade as its former customers graduate. The class of 2011 and its successors will likely learn to love the Axe & Palm — indeed, the freshmen have actively exhibited little dissatisfaction with the new Old Union. But, just as alumni this weekend will visit Jerry and wax nostalgic about the good old days of Lambda Nu or walk up the stairs to Tresidder and remember the OSA-sponsored keggers of their youth, those who remember the CoHo will truly miss it.

This editorial originally ran on October 17, 2007.