Sliced, diced, but Spence don't care

Picture this. You're exhausted. Shopping period's kicking your ass. You have 15 minutes before you go and shop the next seminar you won't be allowed into. Your modest dreams of graduating in four years are quickly slipping away. As you amble from SSS towards WLH, grappling with the onset of a panic attack, you spy the last bastion of security at this crazy little groin-punch we call college—Naples Pizzeria. Familiar and safe, Naples can always be counted on for comfortably dark ambience, a jukebox with the complete catalogue of Billy Joel's greatest hits, and Harry's seductive siren-song: "Slices ready!!!"

CAYTE PUSHKAREVA/YH Naples is renovated, patrons go blind. Hope survives.

But all is not well. As you enter, your senses are bombarded by unfamiliar tones of salmon pink and mint green. You gasp. The ancient wood paneling, once tattooed with the initials of alumni past whom you always suspected called each other Dirk, Skip, or Biff and wore sport coats and argyle socks to class, has been stripped away in places and painted over in others. Something else is bothering you, giving you a slight headache. It's sunlight! Someone let sunlight into Naples!

The new décor, so colorfully illustrated above, is part of the renovation process that Naples underwent during winter vacation. The impetus behind the changes was the state of the refrigeration equipment in the front room. Though Naples only opened its doors to Yalies in 1968, there has been a restaurant in its place for almost 100 years. The equipment that was restored was from the previous restaurant, George & Harry's. "All that stuff was 50 years old at least," Naples owner Tony Prifitera said. But then why the paint job? "It was time for a change," Prifitera said. "We repainted it for more of a coffee-shop atmosphere. Get rid of the dark." But that was my favorite part.

The question is, "How many people will care?" Mr. Prifitera said that "it'll affect nothing," and after seeing the crowd last Thursday, I reluctantly agree. Though Yale is notoriously fickle about its Thursday night social scene, Naples was still enjoying its popularity as the Mecca for freshmen nymphets and the boys looking to bed them. Wondering if I was the only one bothered by the facelift, I decided to drop my good friend Jonathan Spence, SY '61, GRD '65, an e-mail asking him what his take on the new place was. He had always been a big fan of what will forever be called "the old Naples," where an interview with him—in which he praised the restaurant and spoke of how he enjoyed composing notes for his book there—used to hang behind the register. But Professor Spence didn't seem to share in my disconsolance. "I wrote much of the draft of Search for Modern China on the dark old tables of the dark old Naples," he said, "because it fit my mood and the darker periods of history I was covering. I guess the new Naples is better suited to the perky new China that seems to be rising in its place." Ask an academic a question and you'll get an academic answer.

In retrospect, none of this is at all surprising. Students here couldn't be more apathetic about the preservation of local New Haven character in the area surrounding campus. Most people don't seem to be upset about the upcoming opening of Ivy Noodle and the prospect of late-night Chinese that won't rot their intestines (read: Main Garden), just as the memory of The Daily Caffé fades. Broadway is in the process of being overhauled, the first noticeable change being Cutler's new location and sterile appearance.

Much to my chagrin, our college town is looking less and less like a college town, and more like the set of Friends. As far as Naples is concerned, it's still the best slice on campus, but I get more atmosphere in the dining hall.

Back to A&E...