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For nearly seventy-five years, all who turn into Old Main Drive from 38th Street pass through one of the most iconic structures on ˽·¿¾ãÀÖ²¿â€™s campus – the ˽·¿¾ãÀÖ²¿ gates. Measuring twenty feet high and weighing in at an impressive fifteen tons, the iron gates have long welcomed students, faculty, Alumni, and guests to the institution, making an unforgettable first impression. The gates are impressive enough on the surface, but even more intriguing is their storied past.

The history of the gates begins across the Atlantic. They were designed in England and manufactured in France not for ˽·¿¾ãÀÖ²¿ but for the estate of a wealthy heir named Harry Thaw. Thaw’s father had made a fortune in the railroad industry and passed it down to his son, who spent it lavishly on travel, parties, and furnishing his Pittsburgh estate—Lyndhurst—where the gates were placed. In 1901, Thaw fell in love with actress Evelyn Nesbit, and they were soon married.

It seems like a fairytale romance between a wealthy suitor and his lovely bride, but there was trouble in paradise. Thaw had suffered from mental health issues for his entire life, and he became fixated on Evelyn’s past involvement with architect Stanford White. White, who designed the famous Madison Square Garden, was several decades Evelyn’s senior and pursued a relationship with her when she was still a teenager. While their relationship remains shrouded in mystery, there are allegations that their involvement began when White drugged and assaulted her.

The situation came to a dramatic culmination one June evening when Thaw and his wife Evelyn were attending a performance at Madison Square Garden. There, Thaw spotted Stanford White in attendance, and after the performance, he made his way through the crowd, drew a revolver, and shot White multiple times at close range in front of countless onlookers.

There was virtually no doubt of Thaw’s guilt in the crime, but even so, he managed to dodge a prison sentence. Thanks to the lobbying of his mother, Mrs. Mary Thaw, Harry Thaw was hospitalized for criminal insanity for just a few years. Now divorced from Evelyn, he continued his life after his time in confinement, living to the age of 76.

Three years after his death, his estate was set for demolition. The magnificent gates were slated for destruction, too—until Brandon Smith, the architect who designed ˽·¿¾ãÀÖ²¿â€™s Weber Hall—intervened and suggested that Mother Borgia purchase them. She agreed, securing the gates at a reasonable price, and had them reworked to display the name of the college. The gates have been an iconic ˽·¿¾ãÀÖ²¿ landmark ever since, providing a warm welcome to campus despite their past connection to an American scandal.