Thanks to the cards falling the right way – and a lot of long hours spent by staff and administrators – some 1,300 students at the University of Nevada, Reno started the 2019-2020 academic year living in a 28-story tower at the Circus Circus casino. The emergency accommodations were needed after a gas explosion in early July rendered two residence halls and a dining facility uninhabitable. Jerome Maese, the school’s director for residential life and housing, says it was a bit of a miracle that no one was killed in the explosion and that they were able to establish new housing in about six weeks. He also noted that when something like this occurs, you learn an awful lot about what everyone on campus can do. “We had the support of amazing people and an amazing system.”
Needing to relocate two halls’ worth of students when Reno’s rental real estate was already at a premium did not seem to be an easy task. So when it was discovered that Circus Circus’ “Sky Tower” (since renamed “Wolf Pack Tower”), located about a half-mile from the edge of campus, was an option, Maese could hardly believe his luck. Once the site was confirmed, he and his team began the work of transforming the hotel into a residence hall. The occupancy and assignments staff had to take the old rooms out of inventory, establish the new hall, and begin reassigning students – a process made slightly more difficult because the original rooms were singles, doubles, and triples while Wolf Pack Tower would be only singles and doubles. Additional steps included creating new room condition reports, re-imagining how to do rounds, planning and testing fire alarms and evacuations, establishing two round-the-clock information desks, adding more resident assistants, incorporating security, and establishing a shuttle service. A series of laundry machines had to be installed for student use, and the hotel ice machines were removed. The hotel chapel, often utilized for weddings, was converted to a study lounge and multipurpose room.
When news of the students’ new housing was first announced, Maese admits there was some concern from students and parents. Those lessened as it became known that the residential tower was separate from the casino’s gambling facilities and that the university had taken additional steps, such as establishing security and converting exterior doors to require a campus key card for access. Maese adds that students soon realized that for the same rate they were going to pay for their original residence halls they would be living in rooms with king- and queen-sized beds, flat-screen televisions, mini-fridges, private bathrooms, and monthly cleaning.
A few months into the seemingly unorthodox arrangement, Maese says there are still a few things they hope to address. Students would like the shuttle to run more often than it does, and it turns out that a full tower of college students puts far more strain on a building’s information technology capacity than vacationers do. Overall, though, the steps taken have resulted in a successful transition for students and assurance for parents that their students will be hitting the books and not the gaming tables. Maese is particularly proud of the work done to re-brand the hotel to look like any other campus housing facility. Where advertisements in the elevators used to promote the casino’s shows, they now have information about study services. About the only evidence of the hall’s casino connection is the colorful patterns of the carpet. “I have had so many people say to me that when they walk into the lobby they wouldn’t know they weren’t on campus,” he says.
— Amanda Gaudette