The Bureaucratic Battle to Bring Broth to Kellogg
- Cathy Campo
- Nov 23, 2025
- 7 min read
Updated: Nov 26, 2025
By: Cathy Campo, The Kelloggian Investigations Desk
For months, one student leader has been waging a quiet but determined war. Harris Courson (2Y ‘26), co-President of the Kellogg Comedy Club alongside Andrew Goldstein 2Y ’26, has made it his mission this academic year to, as he puts it, “serve the people soup.” To assist with the cause, he even appointed a “Vice President of Soup,” Cassidy Klein (2Y ‘26), whose official responsibilities include “advocating for the ladle.”
“The people are hankering for soup,” Courson told The Kelloggian. His claim is substantiated by a new Instagram account, #bisqueness_school, with 57 followers that reviews the soups in Gordon’s (initially anonymous but 2Y ‘27 Faith Geraghty confirms she is behind its creation).
But bringing soup to Kellogg has proven to be no laughing matter.
The Red Tape of Broth-Based Dreams
Emails obtained by The Kelloggian show that Courson and Klein have been locked in negotiations with Student Life for much of the fall quarter to serve soup in the Hub’s famed Gies Plaza. On October 16th, Radha Kulkarni, Assistant Director of the Office of Student Life, sent the pair a lengthy email outlining the grave dangers of serving hot soup in our hallowed halls.
The message cited a host of “Time/Temperature Control for Safety (TCS)” regulations, warning that soup “contains ingredients like broth, meat, or vegetables that can rapidly grow bacteria if held at improper temperatures.”
The email continued with a litany of bureaucratic obstacles:
Commercial-grade heating equipment
Temporary food permits from the City of Evanston Health & Human Services Department
Designated handwashing stations
“Sneeze guards”
“It was devastating,” Courson said.
The Smell of Betrayal
After weeks of back-and-forth, Courson’s hopes simmered down. His only viable plan—booking a classroom and catering soup for lunch—was pending approval.
Then came November 6th. Storming the soup.
Courson was quietly studying on the upper Spanish Steps when, suddenly, something caught his nose. There, in Gies Plaza, stood the Kellogg Marketing Club—serving soup. And not just any soup. Pitmaster Soup, BBQ-style with grilled chicken and fire roasted corn.
The signs were bold and unrepentant: “PITMASTER SOUP IS COMING TO TG! Fri, Nov 7th.”
To make matters worse, one of the two first-year students ladling the contraband broth was a Comedy Club member (Tai Chorvat, 2Y ‘27). “I felt betrayed,” Courson told The Kelloggian. “Not since Judas has a man with a ladle caused such pain.”
“We are being humiliated right now,” Courson slacked the comedy club executive board. Photos obtained by The Kelloggian show a long line forming at the table, “a clear safety hazard,” Courson noted. There were no sneeze guards, no designated handwashing stations, and no Soup VPs present.
When Courson brought the incident to Student Life’s attention, the responses were, in his words, “vague at best.” “They mumbled something about the Marketing Club being ‘grandfathered in,’” he said.
Jon Comulada, a Senior Content Creator at global communications firm Edelman and the account executive of Progresso soup, was briefed on the incident. “Soup should be bringing people together,” he told The Kelloggian.
“We Are at War”
Later that day, Courson released an official statement to Comedy Club members.
“Drop out of your classes, quit your internships, and get ready,” the statement began. “We are going to battle with the Office of Student Life effective immediately to once and for all deliver soup to the Kellogg masses.”
In the fiery missive, Courson described November 6th as “a day that will live in infamy,” alleging “public humiliation” as Student Life staff “taunted” the Comedy Club while the Marketing Club served soup “for an uninterrupted hour.”
But Courson’s frustration wasn’t directed solely at bureaucracy. As he tells it, Klein—whose role as VP of Soup was created specifically to champion soup access in Gies Plaza—was nowhere to be found in the club’s hour of need. The statement took a sharp turn inward as he announced he had indicted the Comedy Club's own VP of Soup on five charges including Dereliction of Duty, Neglect, Reckless Endangerment, and Sedition.
“Cassidy was instead in E2 putting on ‘self tanner’ and refused her call of duty,” Courson wrote. “It is with a heavy heart, yet deep conviction, that I announce for the first time to this club that I have indicted Cassidy Laurel Klein.”
In a move unprecedented in Comedy Club history, Courson also announced the formation of a judicial branch. Alex Fowkes (2Y ‘26) was appointed Vice President of Soupreme Court, with Olivia Maggos (JD/MBA ‘27) serving as Lead Defender and Dan Fox (1Y ‘26) as Lead Prosecutor.
A trial was held on November 18th in front of a jury of more than 100 Kellogg students. Soup, obviously, was served.
“No longer will our classmates go another day without the soup they have been begging for,” Courson declared. “Today, we turn over the page of history to a new chapter—a chapter filled with justice, laughter, and, most importantly, yes, soup.”
The Soupreme Court: The People vs. Cassidy Klein
What followed Courson’s declaration of war was a spectacle unlike anything Kellogg has seen: the long-awaited trial of Cassidy Laurel Klein, VP of Soup, held before a packed room. Anticipation was sky-high. Even Courson admitted, “I was very stressed because I felt like there was a lot of hype, but everyone was bought in.”
After posting a "get ready with me to go on trial" TikTok, Klein entered the courtroom (er—classroom) to a chorus of mixed cheers and boos, a degree of polarization typically reserved for who had the best KWEST. Immediately, murmurs circulated about the potential imbalance in legal firepower of the more seasoned defense, Maggos, a JD/MBA, vs. prosecutor Fox 1Y. Maggos scoffed; “Baseless allegations made by the prosecution," she said. Meanwhile, Courson told The Kelloggian he’s “thinking about demanding a retrial.”
Momentum shifted quickly once Courson himself took the stand. The defense produced a series of incriminating photos of Courson in various compromising states—evidence Maggos argued demonstrated “a profound lack of judgment in the Comedy Club co-President.”
Radha Kulkarni from Student Life testified next, followed by Comedy Club First-Year Director Alli Berry (2Y ’27), who spoke solemnly about the foundational role of self-tanner. But the trial’s turning point came when Business Law Professor and Co-Director of the JD/MBA program, Mark McCareins, unexpectedly appeared as a witness. “I didn’t even know he was going to take the stand,” Courson said, his sense of betrayal palpable.
When Professor McCareins stated, unequivocally, that in his expert legal opinion, “Cassidy should be exonerated,” the room erupted into gasps and whispers.
Then came the emotional gut punch: a video message from Cassidy’s own mother expressing her disappointment in her daughter. Even some #FreeCassidy supporters—of which there were many, in full merch sold by Holden Ward (2Y ‘26)—momentarily wavered.
In the end, after votes were tallied (with the minor complication of 2Y ‘26 Brett Camacho attempting to vote approximately 15 additional times to send Cassidy “straight to jail”), Judge Fowkes delivered the verdict with great ceremony: 56% not guilty, 44% guilty. The room exploded.
It was Courson who faced the consequences. Immediately after the verdict was read, Harris Courson—Comedian-in-Chief and self-appointed General of the Soup Wars—was handcuffed by Raj Dwivedi (2Y ’26) and escorted out of the room. His official punishment: he will be “souped and feathered” (see Courson carry out his punishment here). As Harris summarized, “The fact that we ran out of soup at the trial of the VP of Soup and I was still found guilty… is an absolute shame.”
Despite the location’s legal clearance allowing soup (a loophole since it wasn’t Gies Plaza), the event still ran out of it, perhaps the final indignity for a president who had promised to bring soup to the masses.
“I feel like it was a miscarriage of justice… I think the jury was biased. No sane legal system would allow for the jury to wear #FreeCassidy shirts. It should’ve been impartial, and I’m disgusted by the whole thing,” Courson said.
Camacho echoed the sentiment. “That not guilty outcome was only made possible by packing the jury with involved and biased students,” he told The Kelloggian.
Claire Hendee (2Y ‘26) and Ali Daily (2Y ‘26), donning #FreeCassidy shirts, offered a different interpretation. “Cassidy’s only crime was looking great, and Harris tried to lock her up for it.” They continued: “[Actor] Jacob Elordi recently said, ‘it’s time to bring back shame.’ The people of Kellogg have now spoken and we’re starting with Harris Courson.”
Despite the theatrical criticism from his peers, Courson maintained that “the event went flawlessly,” adding that despite it all, the club had created one of the funniest, most chaotic afternoons in recent Kellogg history.
“On behalf of the Soupreme Court, The Defense, and the Entire Anti-Slander Legal Machine of Cassidy Klein, we extend our warmest (but never boiling) gratitude for your support in the aftermath of this historic acquittal,” the defense’s official statement read.
And with that, the Soup Wars continue, now with a president facing sentencing, a VP of Soup newly acquitted, and a community still very much divided.
Justice—and soup—have been served.
Evidentiary documents (i.e. Courson’s full statement and correspondence with Student Life) related to the investigation can be found here.
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