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AS I REMEMBER IT:

Columbia Theological Seminary
1932-1971

Dr. J. McDowell Richards

CTS Press

Copyright 1985 by Columbia Theological Seminary

To my faithful and beloved wife, Evelyn
Knight Richards, without whose loving and
patient cooperation the pages of this book
could never have been written.

JMR

Preface

As I Remember It is a memoir of my thirty-nine years as presi-
dent of Columbia Theological Seminary. It is autobiographical in
places, containing many personal anecdotes. It is also biograph-
ical, as it tells the story of an institution over four turbulent
decades. My hope is that all of the people who have been a part of
Columbia's life students, faculty, staff, supporters will find
this a thoughtful, forthright, and sometimes amusing account of a
particular time in the seminary's history.

I wish to express my special thanks to J. Davison Philips, the
current president of Columbia Seminary, whose consideration has
made the publication of these pages possible. Dr. Philips has oc-
cupied many places of importance in the Presbyterian Church. He
began his career as an assistant pastor, was then a chaplain in the
United States Navy, and served as pastor of Presbyterian
churches in Thomasville, Georgia, and Decatur, Georgia.

He was a member of the seminary's Board of Directors for many
years and later served as its chairman. He is a man who possesses
executive and administrative gifts without losing the common
touch or ceasing to be a pastor. I wish to pay special tribute to him
in these various capacities while recognizing his own gifts as a
writer of great ability.

Another person without whom this work could not have been
done is T. Erskine Clarke, who teaches American religious history
at Columbia. Dr. Clarke is an outstanding professor and has also
found time to write and publish an excellent book entitled
Wrestlin' Jacob: A Portrait of Religion in the Old South. I am
most grateful for his willingness to help me reproduce so many
events and conversations recorded in this volume. He has perhaps
been overly kind in the things he has said about me, but has other-
wise done an amazingly accurate piece of work. I am confident Dr.
Clarke will find many other ways of expressing his scholarship for
the benefit of our church.

There are many other individuals, too numerous to name, who
have contributed to this book through their personal reminis-
cences and suggestions. I thank all of them.

J. McDowell Richards

Contents

Introduction
page 1

Chapter One / The Move to Decatur
page 11

Chapter Two / Finances
page 24

Chapter Three / Faculty and Staff
page 39

Chapter Four / Student Life
page 60

Chapter Five / Controversies
page 71

Chapter Six / The Campus
page 78

Chapter Seven / Resignation
page 87

Postscript
page 93

Introduction

by

T. Erskine Clarke

In the up-country of South Carolina lies the small community of
Liberty Hill. It was settled in the eighteenth century and named for
the love of liberty that permeated much of the region at the time of
the American Revolution. The community, however, did not reach
its most prosperous period until the years immediately before the
Civil War. It was then that the rich land along the Wateree River
began to be heavily planted with short-staple cotton, and the
number of slaves to work the cotton steadily increased.

Like other up-country communities, Liberty Hill was settled
primarily by the Scotch- Irish. They had not come by way of
Charleston or other southern seaports, but through Philadelphia,
the great eighteenth-century gate to America. From there these
early pioneers had moved west and south, across Lancaster and
York counties down through the valleys of Virginia into the
Carolina back country. They came by way of the Great Philadelphia
Wagon Road, the most heavily traveled highway of colonial
America. It passed through the Catawba River Valley and ran not
far from what came to be Liberty Hill.

The families of these early settlers sent down deep roots in the
area. Their farms never reached the magnificent proportions or pro-
duced the affluence of low-country plantations, but they were pros-
perous and comfortable. This prosperity allowed them to do two
things which they highly valued to build fine, sometimes even
elegant, country homes, and to educate their children.

The Scotch-Irish were by background and tradition Presbyterian,
and while many became Baptist or Methodist, the Presbyterian
tradition remained strong throughout the up-country. Early settlers
had established a Presbyterian church not far from Liberty Hill at
Beaver Creek and another a few miles north at Hanging Rock. For

years families in the Liberty Hill area belonged to one of these two
congregations and spent their Sabbaths there. By the 1850s,
however, an increasing need was felt for a church at Liberty Hill.
Ironically, this need resulted from increasing prosperity and the
growth of the slave population. "They were an agricultural people,"
wrote their early historian, "and felt the responsibility of giving the
gospel to their slaves." When the Liberty Hill Church was formed
in 1851, it had 26 white members and 130 slaves.

This Liberty Hill Church and the others like it scattered
throughout the up-country would be the backbone of Presby-
terianism in South Carolina. Together with a few large urban
churches, such as Second Presbyterian Church, Charleston, and
similar churches in Georgia, they would be the ones to insist that a
theological seminary be established for the education of
Presbyterian ministers. The ethos of the up-country, modified in
significant ways by the more cosmopolitan perspectives of
Charleston and Savannah, would thus shape to a large extent the
nature and history of Columbia Theological Seminary.

Columbia Seminary was itself several decades older than the
Liberty Hill Church. It had been established in 1828 by the Synod
of South Carolina and Georgia. The synod had been supporting
Princeton Seminary, but an increasing number of its leaders had
felt a need for a Presbyterian seminary for the growing cotton
kingdom that was rapidly moving west across Georgia into
Alabama and Mississippi. There was a need, the synod said, "to
light up another sun which would throw the rays of the gospel fur-
ther west." The seminary had had a modest beginning in 1828 in
the manse in Lexington, Georgia. There, under the instruction of
Dr. Thomas Goulding, five students had studied for the ministry.
This, of course, had been only a beginning and was obviously inade-
quate for what was envisioned. Under the leadership of Colonel
Abraham Blanding, splendid property was bought in Columbia,
South Carolina. Colonel Blanding had raised money from
Columbia's citizens, representing all the denominations in the city,
for the purpose of establishing a "Southern Theological School."
From the first, the seminary was thus intended to be a distinctively
southern seminary to address the peculiar needs of a region bur-
dened and marked by its "peculiar institution," slavery.

The property in Columbia consisted of a large mansion, Ainslie
Hall, and an entire block in the heart of the city. Ainslie Hall had
been designed by the distinguished architect Robert Mills, whose
best known work would be the Washington Monument. Here
gathered a young but brilliant faculty that would make Columbia

Theological Seminary the most formidable theological school in
the Old South and one of the most important in the country dur-
ing the antebellum period.

Faculty members during the nineteenth century included such
scholars as George Howe, John Adger, and William Swan Plumer.
They, with other colleagues, were constantly publishing theolog-
ical essays, articles, and historical studies. The Southern
Presbyterian Review which they published was clearly the most
scholarly theological journal in the South and one of the most im-
portant in the country. Other faculty members included the great
orators Benjamin Morgan Palmer and John Lafayette Girardeau.
They did more than perhaps any churchmen to make a popular
defense of the southern cause both before and long after the
Civil War. Charles Colcock Jones was known as "the Apostle to
the Negro slave" because his scholarly work and missionary
labors focused the attention of the southern church on the
"religious instruction of slaves." (In the twentieth century he and
his family would become famous with the collection and publica-
tion of their family letters in The Children of Pride winner of a
National Book Award.) Then there was James Woodrow, uncle of
Woodrow Wilson, and Joseph R. Wilson, the father of the future
president. Young Woodrow Wilson himself made his public pro-
fession of faith in the chapel of the seminary, and would remember
his days in Columbia with affection.

Most important of all for the seminary and the church was
James Henley Thornwell, professor of theology and president of
the College of South Carolina. He was known as the "Calhoun of
the Southern Church," and his brilliant, logical mind was turned
not only to theological matters but also to the great issues of
church and state. While he wrote on a wide range of subjects, he
would be remembered primarily for his defense of slavery and for
his careful development of the doctrine of the spirituality of the
church. Slavery, he insisted, was not condemned in the Bible, and
therefore it could not be condemned in nineteenth-century
America. Masters were to treat their slaves humanely and as
spiritual brothers and sisters in Christ, but masters were still
masters. His sophisticated and carefully reasoned argument made
a magnificent defense of slavery if you accepted his premises.
Thornwell' s life reflected much of the tragedy of the seminary's
early years, and indeed of the whole South, for good and well-
meaning men associated with the seminary spent much of their
brilliance in the defense of an oppressive and impossible cause and
led the church not toward freedom but slavery.

3

In 1858 a young graduate of Columbia Seminary was called to
be the pastor of the Liberty Hill Church. John Gardiner Richards
had served following his graduation from Columbia as the assis-
tant pastor of the Westminster Presbyterian Church, Charleston.
There he had met and married Sophia Edwards Smith in 1855.
After a short pastorate in York, South Carolina, they moved to
Liberty Hill. For the next thirty years this would be his parish
with an interruption only to serve as a chaplain in the Confederate
army. In Liberty Hill the couple bought a large home and set
about raising a family twelve children of their own and two
others adopted.

The Richards family was soon part and parcel of Liberty Hill;
the descendants of John Gardiner Richards would think of the
Richards home there as the "old home place." In the following
generation it would be the scene of innumerable gatherings of
cousins, aunts and uncles, in-laws, and friends, especially during
the summers. All of these family connections and associations
played a vital role in shaping the nature and character of the
Richards family.

In the years following the Civil War the prosperity of Liberty
Hill declined along with the price of cotton. Sherman's troops had
been delayed by high water on the Wateree River and had used
the delay as an opportunity for more extensive plundering as the
Civil War drew to a close. Yet even in their more limited cir-
cumstances, the white families of Liberty Hill had continued to in-
sist that their children receive an education and through much
sacrifice sent them to the University of Columbia, or to Davidson
or later to Clemson.

The black families had withdrawn from the old Presbyterian
church in 1873 and formed their own Liberty Hill Church as a part
of the Northern Presbyterian Church. They too, under much more
limited and restricted circumstances, struggled to see that their
children received an education, and during the coming years six of
their sons would go into the Presbyterian ministry. One hundred
and eleven years after the separation of black and white
Presbyterians in Liberty Hill, the two congregations would begin,
at least on occasion, worshiping together once again as part of the
reunited Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).

It was in these circumstances that the Richards family grew in-
to one of the most prominent names in the up-country of South
Carolina. One son of John Gardiner Richards, Norman, served for
many years in the state legislature and another son, John, was
elected governor of the state in 1926. A third son, Charles Malone

Richards, followed his father into the ministry, attending Davidson
College and then Columbia Seminary. He served as pastor of the
First Presbyterian Church, Statesville, North Carolina, and then as
the pastor of the college church at Davidson. In 1926 he left the
pastorate to become the professor of Bible at Davidson.

Charles Malone Richards had married Jane Leighton McDowell
in 1896. Her father, James McDowell, was for forty years the
pastor of the Presbyterian church in Manning in the plantation
country of South Carolina. His career in many ways paralleled that
of John Gardiner Richards. They had been students together at
Columbia Seminary, had served together in the Confederate army,
and spent most of their ministry as the pastors of small but influen-
tial congregations. When the children of these two classmates
married, the similar traditions of the two families were united and
reinforced.

In 1902, while Charles Malone Richards was pastor in Statesville,
James McDowell Richards was born. The future president of Col-
umbia Seminary carried the name of his maternal grandfather, but
Liberty Hill with all its cousins and connections would play the
most important role in his early life and that of his sisters, Mary
James, Jane Leighton, and Sophia.

When Mac Richards was six, his family moved to Davidson
where he attended the public schools until he was fourteen. At that
time his father decided he needed additional preparation for college,
and young Mac was sent to the McCallie School in Chattanooga.
The next year, at age fifteen, he entered Davidson College. Four
years later he graduated as valedictorian of his class and as a
member of Phi Beta Kappa. He had been not only a brilliant
student but active in a variety of campus organizations.

During his youth and college days, Mac Richards spent much of
each summer in Liberty Hill. He would take the train to Heath
Springs and there catch a ride on a two-mule wagon that delivered
the mail to Liberty Hill. (Later he would negotiate the red clay
roads in a Model T.) On one occasion, he left Davidson early in the
morning on a bicycle and arrived in Liberty Hill late in the after-
noon after a trip of eighty-six miles on unpaved roads. Any
weariness he felt from the trip was more than compensated for by
the astonishment of his cousins and the accompanying glory.

In Liberty Hill he was surrounded by cousins, aunts, and uncles,
as well as those scattered members of the clan who returned during
the summers for vacations and family reunions. They formed a
Richards baseball team to play teams from other communities. Mac
Richards played catcher and developed a love for baseball that

continued during his presidency of Columbia Seminary when he
sometimes caught during faculty/student games or when Columbia
played teams from the Atlanta area.

Religion permeated all areas of life for the Richards family in
Liberty Hill as it did in Davidson. There was daily Bible reading
and prayer. The young children were expected to learn the
catechism and be prepared to recite it on Sundays. There was a
deep love for the church and a loyal commitment to it. The Sabbath
was strictly kept: church on Sunday morning, Sunday school in the
afternoon, church again in the evening. No work or play was al-
lowed. Reading was of a devotional nature the Bible or perhaps
The Christian Observer or Earnest Worker. Much time was spent in
selecting and memorizing portions of Scripture. Such a regimen un-
doubtedly played an important role in shaping the character of the
family members and in the formation of their religious perspectives
and piety.

In 1922 Mac Richards entered Princeton University. The follow-
ing spring he received an M.A. in English Literature. During the
year at Princeton he was selected as a Rhodes scholar, and in the
late summer of 1923 he left for England and Oxford University. He
was twenty-one and his experiences during the next three years
would open up a broader world for him, provide new perspectives,
and deepen his sympathies for the church universal. These Oxford
years combined with his deep roots in the southern church to help
mold the distinctive nature of his leadership of Columbia Seminary
during a period of change from the Old South to the New.

When he reached Oxford, he had to apply for admission to a par-
ticular college of the university. When asked about his participa-
tion in athletics one of the requirements for a Rhodes scholar
he responded that he had for four years tried out for baseball and
football at Davidson, but had never made either team. The admis-
sions committee, it was reported, was so astounded that an
American was willing to acknowledge having tried something and
failed that he was admitted to the prestigious Christ Church
College.

While at Oxford, Mac Richards studied English history and, dur-
ing his third year, church history. Close friends were other Rhodes
scholars and a few young Englishmen. Among the Rhodes scholars
was his traveling companion, Herb Cleckley of Yale and among the
Englishmen were Allen Roberts and Bill Green. They would remain
friends through the years ahead, and in 1978 Mac Richards visited
Allen Roberts in England a short time before Roberts' death.

As important as his formal studies were, Mac Richards' most

memorable impressions came from the opportunity to travel and
observe the cultures and events in Europe and the Near East. His
years in Oxford (1923-26) covered Hitler's "Beer Hall Putsch" in
Munich, the death of Lenin and the rise of Stalin to power, and in
the Near East the movement of hundreds of thousands of refugees
across national borders, the first of those "displaced persons" in
modern times.

Late in 1925, with Oxford's early beginning of a long Christmas
vacation, Mac Richards started out with Herb Cleckley. They
traveled through France and down the boot of Italy to Brindisi.
Riding fourth class, "the lowest of the low," they observed Italy
under its Fascist leader, Benito Mussolini. From Brindisi they
sailed to Greece and traveled among its ancient ruins while Greek
refugees from Turkey crowded its cities, and Greek Moslems
prepared for their forced evacuation from all Greek territory.
From Piraeus they sailed to Egypt and then on to the Holy Land.
Back in Egypt, they caught a freighter to Constantinople. Here
they made trips to more ruins and took long walks through the an-
cient capital of Byzantium. Then back on the train again, always
traveling fourth class, riding with farmers dressed in their knee
boots and wool coats, across the Rhodope Mountains to Bulgaria
with a stop in Sofia. Then on again, to Belgrade, and Budapest,
and finally Vienna.

In Vienna they met Bill Cummings, later to be a professor at
Davidson. They were all low on funds, but thought they had
enough to get them back to Oxford. After a few days in the Swiss
Alps, they moved on to Paris. By now their money was almost
gone, but by pooling their resources enough was found to send Mac
Richards back to Oxford for more funds. Bill and Herb remained as
"hostages" to the concierge at their Paris hotel. To their great
relief, Mac Richards made the round trip quickly and gained their
"release." Their return to Oxford was a great triumph, for students
took much pride in seeing who could travel the farthest and return
with the least money. Few if any surpassed the young Rhodes
scholars.

Sometime early in his life, Mac Richards had heard a call to the
ministry. It was not a sudden trumpet blast but more a voice
speaking through the traditions of home and church. Both grand-
fathers had been ministers and the church was not something apart
from home, or even alongside home, but home itself. For more than
anything else, he had heard the call through his parents. His
father's long and faithful pastorate at Davidson, his mother's deep
piety and discipline, and his sisters' love and devotion would be

gracious memories for him all his life and provide the clear tone and
accent through which he heard his call.

He returned to the United States in 1926 and in the fall entered
Columbia Seminary. He was part of the last class to study on the
old campus in Columbia, for plans had already been made to move
the seminary to Decatur on the outskirts of Atlanta. But Columbia
was a grand place for the young Rhodes scholar in 1926. His uncle
had been elected governor and as Mac Richards was settling in at
the seminary, John Richards was already making a name for
himself as a forceful leader of the state. It was the "Roaring Twen-
ties" and if the roaring in Columbia was somewhat restrained, still
it was a period of prosperity and a time for some fun as well as
work. Mac Richards had three cousins, Margarette, Rebah, and
Bettie, daughters of John Richards, who enjoyed giving parties at
the Governor's Mansion. Naturally, they invited their young, single
cousin, who had only recently returned from his adventures in
Europe. At these parties he was reported to roll up his pants legs
and dance the Charleston with great dignity.

By September, 1927, the seminary had moved to Decatur under
the leadership of President Richard T. Gillespie. The faculty itself
was in a period of transition. William McPheeters was the senior
faculty member, having come to the seminary in 1888, and William
Childs Robinson was among several younger faculty members who
had only recently joined the staff. McPheeters represented the
most conservative tradition of the Southern Presbyterian Church
and Robinson would follow in his footsteps. But that story will
come later.

Mac Richards graduated from Columbia in 1928 and on the urg-
ing of his good friend from Davidson, P. D. Miller, accepted a call to
home missionary work in North Georgia. He served the churches at
Clarkesville, Nacoochee, and Helen in what was then isolated
mountain country. The churches were small but strong in their own
peculiar Presbyterian way. The congregations were made up of
farmers and teachers, a few doctors and lawyers, and merchants.

It was a particularly happy time for Mac Richards. He visited in
the small communities and drove his old Chevrolet out into the sur-
rounding coves and hollows where many families lived. Travel was
not always easy. The red clay roads provided smooth riding for a
few months in the year, but the rest of the time they could be
treacherous. During hot and dry weather any passing car would
raise a cloud of fine red dust that not only covered the surrounding
roadside but the car and driver as well. In winter snow and often ice
made the frozen roads crackle under the wheels of the car. But

8

worst of all was when it rained. Then deep ruts appeared and
drivers either had to ride in them or on their edges. If the car made
it to the top of a hill, going down the other side was a terror for the
road could be like a slick, red, sliding board. The car would start
down, gaining speed, and then slip from side to side while the
driver desperately tried to get it straight in time to cross the few
boards that stretched over the rushing stream at the bottom of
the hill. It was a long way from Oxford and the parties at the
Governor's Mansion, but it was on such roads as these that Mac
Richards "went a courting" a young school teacher in nearby
Sautee, Georgia.

Evelyn Knight had grown up between Tampa and Clearwater,
Florida, in the midst of a grove of grapefruit and orange trees. Her
father was a prosperous businessman, and Evelyn Knight and her
four sisters and brother enjoyed the pleasures of the sunny
climate. They swam in the Gulf and Tampa Bay, gave parties at
the beach, and had lots of company in their home. During the sum-
mer, the family headed for the North Carolina mountains and
Montreat, where they had a home. Here there was some contact
with the Richards family, although Evelyn and Mac did not meet
at Montreat. Even when Evelyn's brother Robert went off to col-
lege, and was a classmate of Mac Richards at Davidson, Evelyn
and Mac did not meet. That would come later when Evelyn was
teaching at Sautee and he was traveling the roads between
Clarkesville, Nacoochee, and Helen as a home missionary.

In the late twenties, four of the Knight sisters attended Agnes
Scott. In 1925 their father died and the next year Evelyn accepted
the teaching position at the country school in Sautee Valley. It
was a one-room school, and she had the responsibility for the
third, fourth, fifth, and sixth graders. Sautee was a long way from
the groves in Florida and from Agnes Scott. She liked her
students (some were the children of local moonshiners), but the
work was hard. During the winter she would rise early, get to the
school in time to build a fire and break the ice on the pitcher, and
then try to teach four different classes at the same time in one
room. Years later she would laugh and say, "It was no mystery
why I married I was ready for the soft life of a home
missionary!"

In 1929 Mac Richards and Evelyn Knight were married in Safe-
ty Harbor, Florida, by James Malone Richards. In 1931 Mac
Richards accepted a call to be the pastor of the First Presbyterian
Church in Thomasville, Georgia. One year later, during the
darkest days of the Depression, the Board of Directors of Columbia

Seminary called him to be the seminary's president. He would
serve for thirty-nine years. It would be a remarkable presidency
during a period of great change and struggle in the South and
within the Southern Presbyterian Church. What follows is his own
story of those years.

10

One

The Move to Decatur

Columbia Seminary had enjoyed a distinguished record of service
to the church during the nineteenth century. Its faculty had been
strong and its students had gone out into the church to serve in a
wide range of ministries. During the closing years of the nineteenth
century and the early years of the twentieth, the seminary had,
however, come upon hard times. Part of the problem had been
financial, a reflection of the poverty of the region during these
years. Another problem had been theological controversies that
had divided the church and had been especially harmful to Colum-
bia Seminary. In particular, the controversy that centered around
James Woodrow and the teaching of evolution had weakened Col-
umbia. Woodrow was the Perkins Professor of Natural Science in
Connection with Revelation. His teaching of a theistic evolution
had divided the faculty and brought fierce attacks from other
seminaries, especially from R. L. Dabney at Union. While Woodrow
was supported by his presbytery and a number of prominent
leaders in the church in South Carolina (he was later elected synod
moderator), he was finally forced to resign from the seminary. Col-
umbia would be a long time in recovering from the bitterness and
division caused by this controversy.

In the early 1920s, the seminary appeared headed for better days.
Dr. John M. Wells, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of
Wilmington, North Carolina, and a past moderator of the General
Assembly, was elected president of Columbia. At the same time Dr.
James Benjamin Green, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of
Greenwood, South Carolina, was elected professor of systematic
theology. The coming of these two men to the faculty was greeted
with enthusiasm and by immediate growth in the size of the stu-
dent body, which numbered sixty-nine persons in 1923. It soon
became obvious, in spite of this temporary encouragement, that

11

drastic steps would be necessary if the seminary was to be main-
tained in Columbia. Having suffered a deficit of $5,356 in the year
1921-22, Dr. Wells estimated that a deficit of $18,339 would be in-
curred for the year 1922-23. He presented to the Board of Directors
estimates of a need for $365,000 to erect new buildings and for
$300,000 as an addition to the endowment. He pointed out that
since every student meant an added expense for the institution, fur-
ther growth in the student body would only serve to increase the
need for additional financial resources.

Using carefully worked out statistics provided for the Board, Dr.
Wells underscored the entirely inadequate support and equipment
of Columbia Seminary as compared with eight other Presbyterian
seminaries in the United States, including the Union and Louisville
seminaries as institutions connected with the Presbyterian Church,
U.S. In order for Columbia to compete with the other seminaries in
drawing students and providing them with well-rounded training,
he stressed the need for a library building, a new dormitory to ac-
commodate at least twenty students, an adequate refectory
building and social center, a department of mission, a full-time
librarian, and teachers in elocution and in music. When a new din-
ing room was erected and furnished as an enlargement to the refec-
tory in 1923, it was the first new building on the campus in approx-
imately fifty years.

The necessity for some new approach to Columbia's problems
became increasingly evident. The Board had appointed a Commit-
tee on Location and Consolidation and had invited the Synods of
Mississippi, Louisiana, and Tennessee to join in the ownership of
Columbia Seminary and in determining the question of its location.
An approach had also been made to the Board of Directors of
Southwestern Presbyterian University and to the committees of its
supporting synods to consider consolidation of that institution
with Columbia Seminary, preserving the historic continuity of both
and leaving it to the synods to select the name which the combined
institution would bear. This overture proved unsuccessful. At the
same time the Board of Trustees of Union Theological Seminary in
Richmond invited Columbia's Board to appoint a committee to
meet with a similar committee from that institution to confer about
a possible merger.

Dr. Walter W. Moore, the president of Union, appeared before the
Board of Directors of Columbia Seminary to push for his merger.
Without taking a definite action on this overture, which many
favored, the Board recommended that the controlling synods em-
power it to survey the territory and to locate the seminary where, in

12

its judgment, the school could secure a sufficient measure of finan-
cial assistance and render the largest service to the church. Each of
the four synods in their subsequent meetings gave the requested
authorization with the exception of Georgia, which attached the
condition that the seminary not be moved to any location outside of
the supporting synods. Meanwhile, several South Carolina
presbyteries and the First Presbyterian Church of Columbia
urgently requested that the seminary not be moved from its loca-
tion in that city. On May 6, 1924, the Board voted that the
seminary be retained in Columbia only upon condition that the
synods raise within a period of three years the sum of $500,000 for
endowment and equipment. If the controlling synods did not meet
this condition, it was decided to negotiate for some suitable place
within the territory served by the seminary for a new location upon
the same condition: that the sum of $500,000 for equipment and en-
dowment be guaranteed. If both of these recommendations failed,
the Board voted that negotiations be completed with Union
Theological Seminary for a merger.

Meanwhile, an approach to the Board had been made by a group
of ministers in Atlanta under the leadership of Dr. J. Sprole Lyons,
pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Atlanta, and Dr. D. P.
McGeaghy, pastor of the Decatur Presbyterian Church. A Union
graduate who had served for some years near Louisville
Presbyterian Seminary, Dr. Lyons was convinced that the presence
of a seminary in Atlanta could strengthen and bless the work of the
church in the Southeast. No final decision had been made at that
time; but being convinced that the merger with Union Seminary
would not be consummated a merger to which he had committed
himself Dr. Wells resigned. The directors accepted his resigna-
tion with expressions of regret and appreciation. The time of transi-
tion was almost complete. The "day of march" for Columbia
Seminary had come.

Immediately after the resignation of Dr. Wells, the Board of
Directors elected Dr. Richard T. Gillespie, pastor of the First
Presbyterian Church of Louisville, Kentucky, as president. Dr.
Gillespie originally declined the call, believing that the future loca-
tion of the seminary ought to be determined by the Board and the
synods before any new president took office.

At a called meeting of the Board held in Augusta, Georgia, on
June 13, 1924, a decision was reached to decline the invitation of
Union Seminary. It was further decided that the institution be
relocated in Atlanta, subject to approval by the synods, and upon
condition that $500,000 be provided for its support. With this

13

possibility before them, church leaders in Georgia moved toward
the securing of official approval for the undertaking. At the
October meeting of the Synod of Georgia that approval was given,
and plans were made for a campaign to be conducted in 1925 for the
raising of $500,000 in Georgia. Of this amount one half was to be
raised in Atlanta Presbytery, the remaining half in the other
Presbyterian churches of the state. Approval was gladly given by
the other controlling synods South Carolina, Florida, and
Alabama. At the same time Mississippi accepted an invitation to
join in the ownership of the school, electing three directors to the
Board.

The way being thus cleared, the Board on November 25, 1924,
again called Dr. Gillespie to become the seminary's president. This
time, after further prayerful consideration, he accepted. In both his
election and his acceptance the leading of Providence could scarcely
be doubted.

Dr. Gillespie had been born in South Carolina to godly parents
and reared in a home deeply loyal to the church. He had proven his
business ability in a variety of positions which helped him fund his
education. A graduate of Davidson College and of Columbia
Seminary, he had entered the latter institution at a time when it
had only sixteen students. Most of his companions at Davidson
were enrolling at Union Seminary in Richmond. Moved by a plea
from Dr. W. M. McPheeters, but manifesting an unselfishness and
a sense of duty which were characteristic of him, he entered Colum-
bia because he wanted to support and influence the theological
school which existed for the unbuilding of the church in his own
home synod. For this he felt a special responsibility.

Having acted as an agent for Davidson College, he accepted a
similar responsibility at Columbia. Not only was he successful in
leading other students to enroll, but he did much to improve morale
on the campus. As a student he initiated the refurbishing of a dor-
mitory guest room and adjoining room for the Society of Mis-
sionary Inquiry, raising several hundred dollars for the purpose.
The seminary had never previously had a room for the entertaining
of guests.

Dr. Gillespie brought a wealth of practical experience to his
presidency of a school for the training of ministers. Following his
graduation from Columbia, he had served successively as minister
of the First Presbyterian Church of Florence, South Carolina, for
eight years; the Maxwell Street Presbyterian Church of Lexington,
Kentucky, for four years; and the First Presbyterian Church of
Louisville for four years. A strong biblical preacher as well as a

14

faithful and beloved pastor, he had built up each of these congrega-
tions in membership, stewardship, and Christian education. As for
evangelism and church growth, during his seventeen years in the
pastorate of congregations which were then not large, he received
396 members on profession of faith and 699 by transfer a total of
1095 persons, for an average of 64 per year and better than 1 per
Sunday.

Dr. Gillespie's gifts as an organizer and administrator led to his
appointment to various committees and agencies of presbytery,
synod, and General Assembly alike, and laid heavy burdens upon
him. In all of these he provided valuable leadership. Probably his
most significant achievement came as chairman of a campaign to
raise $1,000,000 for Christian education in Kentucky in 1922. The
raising of such an amount for Christian education was almost un-
paralleled in the South at the time and inspired similar efforts in
other states.

It is particularly noteworthy that the campaign was a joint effort
undertaken by the Presbyterian Church, U.S. and U.S.A. Both
synods were comparatively small in numbers, the former having
some 30,000 members and the latter approximately 20,000. Neither
synod had anything like an adequate educational program. Dr.
Gillespie concluded that the statesmanlike thing to do was for both
synods to unite in a joint effort to strengthen their educational in-
stitutions. Both synods approved his proposal and immediately
chose him as chairman of the Joint Commission appointed by these
bodies.

The stature of this man is shown not only in the proposal he
made, but in his refusal of any selfish advantage for his own church
in the campaign. Indeed, his insistence that the effort be lifted
above any narrow denominational focus resulted in a larger amount
being allotted to the institutions of the smaller U.S.A. synod. He
also advocated, as a condition attached to the raising of funds,
changing the charters of Center College and the Kentucky College
for Women to bring these institutions into closer relationship with
the church.

After accepting the call to the seminary, Dr. Gillespie continued
to serve the First Presbyterian Church of Louisville until the end of
January, 1925. In the meantime, however, he had visited Atlanta to
serve with the committee appointed by the Board for the selection
of a site. Although several sites in the Atlanta area were offered, it
was decided that the location which became available in Decatur
would most nearly meet the needs of the institution. Then as now,
Decatur was a part of metropolitan Atlanta, although it has

15

maintained its separate municipal government. Indeed, Decatur is
an older city than Atlanta and the transformation of a village
known as Marthasville, later called Terminus, into the great city of
Atlanta was initiated by Decatur's refusal to become a railroad ter-
minal with all of the accompanying smoke, grime, and noise.

The new campus, which originally consisted of more than twenty-
five acres offered as a gift by the G. B. Scott estate, was enlarged to
fifty-seven acres on the southeast border of Decatur through other
gifts, particularly that of the Pratt family, and purchases of land.
Thus, ample space for future development was assured on a
beautifully wooded piece of rolling property containing several
springs and freely flowing streams. The city of Decatur agreed to
extend its limits to include the seminary campus and to provide the
property with water, sewerage, and paving without expense to the
institution. The newly elected president also visited Columbia to
confer with members of the faculty there before assuming his new
duties on February 1, 1925. Everywhere he was received with
enthusiasm.

Immediately upon assuming his new duties, Dr. Gillespie started
an active campaign to raise $250,000 in Atlanta Presbytery. The
dates for this effort had already been set as February 1-17, 1925,
and the victory was celebrated on the latter date when reports to a
highly enthusiastic group of Presbyterians indicated that $304,000
later increased to $312,000 had been subscribed. Dr. Benjamin
R. Lacey, soon to become the president of Union Seminary in Rich-
mond, chaired the campaign. He had also been eloquent in ad-
vocating to the Synod of Georgia that Columbia Seminary be
brought to that state. An agreement had been reached in advance
that the money raised in Atlanta would be used for the buildings of
the seminary; the equal amount which was sought in the synod
would be added to the endowment of the institution.

Campaigning in the widely scattered churches of the Synod of
Georgia was difficult, but by the end of the year success had been
reported with $624,751.72 subscribed, including the land site
valued at $40,000. At the close of the campaign, Dr. J. Sprole
Lyons, chairman of the Synods Committee, asserted that "in addi-
tion to getting the money for Columbia Seminary, Presbyterianism
is fifty percent stronger in the synod than it was when the
campaign started, and every problem of our church in Georgia will
be easier."

During the twenty months of the subscription campaign, Dr.
Gillespie traveled frequently between his offices in Atlanta and
Columbia, South Carolina. In the Atlanta office Dr. Gillespie

16

voluntarily took responsibility for the collection of pledges made
in the campaigns. During this period he secured the efficient help
of Miss Virginia Harrison as secretary and bookkeeper. This
marked the beginning of her outstanding service to the seminary
in a variety of capacities for the next thirty-six years, a story
elaborated in Chapter 3.

The new president took the lead in planning and supervising the
erection of the new buildings in Decatur. He visited several
outstanding theological schools in the East, securing the latest
ideas for the new plant. It was decided that an academic Gothic
form of architecture should be employed. The buildings erected
were to be of red brick trimmed with Indiana limestone. Only two
buildings were erected immediately. The administration building
was remarkably well-planned as almost an institution in itself con-
taining offices, parlors, and classrooms on the first floor, space for
the library with additional classrooms on the second floor, and
dormitory rooms on the third floor. The refectory and the kitchen
were located in the basement. A chapel capable of seating approx-
imately 200 persons was also erected on the second floor.

The southern end of the administration building was of plain
brick and completed unadorned. Plans called for a Gothic tower to
be erected in that position and made a part of an open quadrangle.
At the time no one foresaw that many years would pass before any
further building could be done. A major gift toward the erection of
this building had been made by Mr. J. Bulow Campbell, an elder in
the Central Presbyterian Church of Atlanta, and in recognition of
that fact the building was named in honor of his mother. Mr.
Campbell had been elected a director of the seminary several years
earlier, and had served on the committee for the removal of the in-
stitution to Atlanta. His place in the life of the seminary is so im-
portant that it will be treated in another chapter. The new dor-
mitory was also a three-story building, divided into four sections
with four rooms for students and a bathroom on each level. The
building as a whole was named Simons-Law Hall, in honor of the
two elect ladies whose gifts had made possible the erection of the
dormitories on the old campus in Columbia Mrs. Agnes Law
and Mrs. Elizabeth L. Simons.

Although Dr. Gillespie resided in Decatur with his family, he
traveled frequently to Columbia and maintained close contact
with the life of the institution there. He found the old buildings in
a bad state of repair and insisted that these must be improved even
for the short time the seminary would remain in Columbia. He
personally raised the extra funds necessary for this purpose. His

17

election had breathed new life into the whole constituency of the
seminary and as a result of personal visits to colleges and of con-
stant correspondence, he enlisted a number of new students even
before the move to Decatur. A class of thirty-six new students
the largest in the seminary's history was enrolled in September,
1927.

His visits to the campus were devoted not only to consultation
with faculty members and to business details, but to a remarkable
degree included contacts with individual students. Dr. Gillespie,
showing a true pastor's heart, was able as a friend and advisor to in-
spire, encourage, and guide almost every member of the student
body. One of Columbia's outstanding students wrote to Mrs.
Gillespie in the fall of 1926: "Words are inadequate to tell you what
he has come to mean to me. Just meeting him on the campus never
fails to make a day brighter because he has a remarkable way of
putting hope and faith into men. I had never dreamed that a man
could be so concerned over every student as he is. All the men know
this, and it means that to a man they love him with a devotion that
is wonderful." This statement would have been supported, though
perhaps less well expressed, by virtually the entire student body.

The exchange between this man and his students was by no
means one-sided. Not only did he offer guidance, but he was willing
to listen to them with respect and to meet them more than halfway
when they made constructive suggestions. As a result of expressed
student needs, and after careful consultation with the faculty, he
proposed a marked improvement in the curriculum of the institu-
tion. When he came to the presidency, students were taking as
many as seven or eight courses each semester, although classes in
these seldom met more than twice a week and sometimes only once.
He proposed lengthening the school year from thirty-three weeks to
thirty-six and instituted the quarter system. Under the new ar-
rangement, students took only three courses each quarter, but each
class met five days a week. Thus it became possible to do far more
intensive work in each subject. The new system was well-received
and remained largely unaltered for approximately twenty-five
years.

Physically, Dr. Gillespie was highly impressive above average
height, well-proportioned body, handsome features. His smile was
winsome, his manner friendly and graciously dignified, his strength
of character unmistakable. In his pulpit work, as in all his public
speech, he was earnest and effective without pretending to elo-
quence. One could not be long in his presence without sensing the
sincere Christian character of the man and the depth of his

18

dedication. From a human viewpoint, the years of his service to the
seminary were all too few.

Columbia Seminary opened its first session in Decatur on
Wednesday, September 14, 1927, at 10 A.M. in the new chapel.
Much had been accomplished in a short while. The new buildings
had been completed on schedule, and during the summer the library
and equipment in Columbia had been packed, shipped to Decatur,
and placed in position, ready to meet the needs of the students. The
future seemed bright, and no one could foresee the trouble to come.

Two distinguished and beloved members of the faculty had died
shortly after Dr. Gillespie took office. Dr. R. C. Reed, who for twenty-
seven years had been professor of church history, died unexpectedly
in the summer of 1925. His death was followed in September, 1926,
by that of Dr. Harry Alexander White, who for twenty-five years
had been professor of New Testament literature and exegesis. Dr.
William C. Robinson, pastor of a church in Gettysburg, Penn-
sylvania, but a son of Columbia Seminary, was chosen as Dr. Reed's
successor; he spent more than a year at Harvard University com-
pleting requirements for the Ph.D. degree before beginning to teach
in 1927. In the interim the chair was filled by Dr. C. C. McNeill of
Savannah, Georgia, as acting professor. Dr. Hunter B. Blakely,
pastor of the United Presbyterian Church of Harrodsburg, Ken-
tucky, was persuaded to accept the chair of New Testament, and Dr.
Gillespie arranged for him to spend a year and a half of study in
Scotland to prepare for his work. This he began in the fall of 1928,
but he found himself unhappy away from the pastorate and resigned
after only two years. Prior to his coming, Dr. H. Waddell Pratt of
Columbia and Dr. E. D. Kerr of the seminary's faculty had taught
the required courses in New Testament literature and exegesis. Rev.
S. A. Cartledge, a recent Columbia graduate who was earning his
Ph.D. at the University of Chicago, was immediately elected as
associate professor in this department and began his distinguished
career as scholar, teacher, and author.

Dr. Gillespie himself had overtaxed his strength by the heavy
load which he had carried for three years with practically no vaca-
tion. Shortly after the seminary opened in September, he was per-
suaded to accept the gift of a month's vacation at Clifton Spring,
New York, in the belief that this would restore his strength for the
heavy responsibilities facing him. Unfortunately, he was never
again able to give uninterrupted service to the seminary. Upon
returning from New York, he was taken ill with a condition of high
nervousness caused by hypothyroidism, and by two operations
which left him incapacitated until the following summer. He was

19

not even able to attend the 1928 commencement exercises during
which the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, U.S.,
meeting at the Central Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, participated
in the centennial celebration of the seminary. This was an event for
which he had laid great plans and which he had eagerly anticipated.

Dr. Gillespie was but a shadow of his former self during the next
two years and died unexpectedly while attending the General
Assembly meeting in Charlottesville, Virginia, in 1930. The years
had not been kind to Columbia Theological Seminary since its move
to Georgia. The time of the move had seemed right, but it was
followed shortly by the Great Depression. The expenses of moving
the Columbia equipment to Decatur, the increased cost of operation
in the new buildings and of scholarship aid for the students,
together with a shrinkage in the collection of campaign pledges,
resulted in an annual deficit of between $15,000-$20,000 each year.
The building program had been expanded to include four faculty
residences, which with other unforeseen items made necessary a
bonded debt of $100,000 on the buildings.

Eventually, only a little more than 90 percent of subscriptions
made in the Atlanta campaign and only about 75 percent of those in
the Georgia campaign were collected. Many pledges made payable
over eighteen months were paid only after a number of years.
Hence, the seminary had little new endowment to provide current
support, and income from the existing endowment, most of this be-
ing invested in first mortgages on property in and around Colum-
bia, South Carolina, was diminishing. The old seminary buildings
and campus in Columbia had been leased to Chicora College, but
that institution had been unable to pay the expected rent. The stu-
dent enrollment in 1928-29 had been the largest in the history of the
institution, but the size of the student body diminished for the next
several years as the Depression deepened.

One more effort to improve the financial condition of the
seminary was made during the last months of Dr. Gillespie's life. In
January, 1930, a campaign was launched in Atlanta with the pur-
pose of raising $200,000 to pay off the seminary's indebtedness.
Conditions were not good, and the campaign was almost a complete
failure in spite of Mr. J. Bulow Campbell's conditional offer of
$75,000 toward the total goal, if $125,000 could be secured from
other sources. In the face of such discouragement Dr. Gillespie con-
tinued to struggle heroically in behalf of his beloved seminary, but
his death precluded success in this final effort.

In the memorial to Dr. Gillespie which was adopted by the Board
of Directors at its next meeting, Dr. J. Sprole Lyons spoke with

20

characteristic eloquence:

He was truly a man of God prepared for the
work to which he was called. The century of the
life of this institution has had its times of trial
and testing, for which men of God were raised
up who could lead on, and bring adjustment to
new situations. In the history of Columbia
Seminary these names shine with peculiar
clearness and beauty. The crowning glory of Dr.
Gillespie's life and service was that he had no
measure by which he gave himself to his task.
He simply gave his entire self.

The three years which had elapsed since the opening of Columbia
Seminary in Decatur had seen an almost complete reversal of ex-
pectations and hopes for the institution. Its inspiring leader was
gone. Much of the enthusiasm in Atlanta and in the supporting
synods had gradually ebbed away. Making the situation especially
difficult was the fact that the United States, together with a large
part of the western world, had entered the Great Depression, which
would have a devastating effect not only on the economy and socie-
ty, but on the church as well.

For example, many faithful contributors to ecclesiastical budgets
could no longer provide their accustomed support. Budgets for
both local expenses and benevolences declined. Virtually no new
churches were erected, some congregations which had previously
been self-supporting had to unite with neighboring congregations
in order to support a pastor, and already modest salaries were
sometimes necessarily reduced. The call for service in the ministry
or on the mission field was not frequently sounded from the pulpit,
and the number of candidates for the work subsequently declined.

The beginning of this Depression caused the inevitable failure of
the campaign conducted in Atlanta in 1930 to liquidate the
seminary's indebtedness. It also led to a continued decline in gifts
both from the benevolence budgets of the synods and from in-
dividuals. Dr. Melton Clark, a professor of English Bible, was made
acting president after the death of Dr. Gillespie and served for two
years in addition to teaching Bible, homiletics, pastoral theology,
and Christian education. The task laid upon him was impossibly
heavy. There were at the time only four other members of the facul-
ty. Numerous church institutions were compelled to close their
doors, while others faced a perilous future. Suggestions were

21

already being made in certain quarters that the Southern
Presbyterian Church could not support four seminaries.

Under these circumstances it is not strange that Columbia
Seminary found it difficult to secure a new president. Approaches
were made to a number of strong and able men who were well
qualified to serve, but, for understandable reasons, not one of these
accepted. Discouraged by the failure of these attempts, the Board
decided to seek a representative of a younger generation as its
leader. Accordingly, in the spring of 1932, it turned to the Rev.
Patrick D. Miller, the General Assembly's Educational Secretary
for Home Missions and a man destined to render outstanding ser-
vice to the church as pastor, executive, teacher, and finally as
moderator of its General Assembly.

Dr. Miller and I were graduates of the same class at Davidson
College, had both been ordained as ministers in Athens Presbytery,
had served as pastors of home mission churches in adjoining coun-
ties of northeast Georgia, and had established a lifelong friendship.
He would have filled the position admirably.

Dr. Miller took the call of Columbia Seminary under prayerful
consideration and because of our friendship made a trip to
Thomasville, Georgia, where I was then pastor, to discuss the ques-
tion with me. He brought with him a copy of the auditor's report
revealing the difficulties facing the seminary, and also an account
of his conversations with various parties, no one of whom had been
able to assure him of any security in the work of the institution.

To the best of my ability I urged him to accept this call, pointing
out the seminary's strategic location in a center of industry, com-
merce, and transportation; the place it held in the hearts of many
people; and its tremendous potential as an agency for home mission
work and for the development of a strong Presbyterian presence in
the South. Little did I suspect that Dr. Miller would decline the call,
and that all of the arguments which I had advanced in urging his
acceptance of the work would, like a boomerang, return to strike me
with full force. Because I had been pastor of the First Presbyterian
Church of Thomasville for only about one year, I was particularly
reluctant to consider moving elsewhere. On the other hand, I was
convinced that unless someone accepted administrative leadership
at Columbia Seminary with little further delay, the institution
would probably close its doors.

Being thirty, I felt that I was young enough to serve and then
move to some other work if that should prove necessary. I had no
confidence in my qualifications for the heavy demands to be made
upon the next president of Columbia Seminary. Nevertheless, I

22

could not escape the conviction that in this instance the call of the
Board of Directors was the call of God for me. I indicated that I
would accept the work if the congregation of the First Presbyterian
Church of Thomasville would upon its own initiative release me to
the seminary. After an earnest appeal made by Dr. S. L. Morris, an
honored alumnus of the seminary, the congregation agreed to ac-
cept the plea of the Board and to that end voted to join with me in
requesting a dissolution of the pastoral relationship.

In August, 1932, I terminated my service to that church and
moved with my family to the campus of Columbia Seminary. There
in September I began a service which I expected to last no more
than five years, after which I hoped to return to the pastorate. That
hope was not fulfilled, and I began a tenure of thirty-nine years in
the office of seminary president.

23

Two

Finances

A primary responsibility of the president of any educational in-
stitution in America is to keep the institution economically viable.
For a young man called in the midst of the Depression to be presi-
dent of a seminary with a long history of economic instability,
finances naturally posed an immediate and long-standing concern.

The financial record of the fiscal year which ended March 31,
1933, was discouraging. A budget calling for expenditures of
$47,642 had been adopted by the Board with expected income of
$32,000. With a substantial deficit being anticipated, and knowing
that I had little time to change the situation, I had made it a condi-
tion of my acceptance that the Board undertake responsibility in
advance for meeting this deficit. Unfortunately, the Board felt that
it could only do this by further reducing the slim endowment
resources of the institution. The income for the year fell almost
$8,000 short of the modest amount which had been anticipated, and
an even worse situation was averted only by heroic action on the
part of the faculty. In January of 1933, that group upon recommen-
dation of the administration voted to reduce its own salaries by one
third. Payment of even these greatly reduced salaries, amounting
at that time to $2,000 per year with provision of a home, was often
considerably in arrears. In spite of such difficult circumstances
these men neither complained nor despaired.

At the opening exercises of Columbia Seminary in the fall of
1932, a junior class of twelve men had been enrolled. The total
enrollment of regular students for that school year was fifty, with
twenty-three of these being members of the graduating class. In
fact, the enrollment of students did not exceed fifty during the next
decade. Though the number of candidates for the ministry was
declining, graduates of the four seminaries still had difficulty find-
ing pastorates. Under the circumstances it was understandable

24

that many persons questioned whether the Presbyterian Church,
U.S., needed and could support four seminaries. As a result of this
situation the General Assembly of 1932 appointed an Ad Interim
Committee on Training Young Men for the Gospel Ministry and
called for a plan to reduce the number of seminaries. The fact that
this committee was unprepared to make a report in 1933 naturally
did nothing to encourage either financial support of Columbia
Seminary or the enrollment of new students.

In addition to the seminary's economic difficulties, the twenty-
three young men who graduated in May of 1933 faced dire cir-
cumstances of their own. With the economy prostrate, many con-
gregations and groups of churches no longer could support a
minister and were unable or unwilling to extend calls. Various
members of the class accepted pastorates in which they received
only room and board, and others counted themselves fortunate to
receive $50 per month in salary in addition to room and board.
There was no murmuring or complaining on their part, and in the
end all but one was located in a pastorate. Undergraduates going
out for summer work at the time almost inevitably did so in return
for a promise of room and board. These men were willing to suffer
hardship for the sake of the gospel.

At the General Assembly of 1934 the Ad Interim Committee
finally presented its report. It recommended reducing the number
of theological schools maintained by the church to two, one being
Union Seminary in Richmond and the other, which was to result
from the merger of Louisville, Columbia, and Austin, to be located
in some undesignated city in the western part of the church. Since
ownership of the seminaries is vested in the synods, this report
would have had no legal effect, but its endorsement by the General
Assembly might have made it necessary for the recommendations
to be carried out. After careful debate the Assembly decided to
receive the report without taking action upon it a decision
welcomed by at least three of the seminaries concerned and which
was also supported by many of the graduates of Union.

Only forty-two regular students were enrolled for the school year
1933-34. There were also ten special students, and the faculty con-
ducted a lay training school in one of the Atlanta churches with
several hundred persons enrolling for courses in Bible, Christian
education, church history and government. Total expenses for the
year amounted to $30,352.09, and by rigid economy and continued
low salaries for faculty members the institution was able to report
an excess of income over expenses for the year in the amount of $1.
Thus, for the first time in a good many years, the seminary balanced

25

its budget, and the administration out of necessity as well as con-
viction decided that henceforth no deficits were to be incurred for
current operations. With the exception of one year in which it did
not quite maintain that goal, Columbia Seminary has operated
strictly within its income for nearly half a century, although in
some years the margin of safety was exceedingly small.

By the 1935-36 session forty-four regular students were enrolled,
eleven in the junior class. The number of candidates for the
ministry in our denomination was still decreasing, although some
increase had been shown in churches' demand for seminary
graduates. This year was marked by the first of the rural church in-
stitutes conducted by Dr. John W. McLaughlin, then director of
country church work for the General Assembly. Sixteen pastors
came for two weeks of special courses. The annual holding of such
an institute with its steadily increasing enrollment came to be an
important part of the seminary's program for a number of years
under the leadership of Dr. McLaughlin and later of Dr. James M.
Carr. Much was accomplished for the good of country churches at
that time, but the decreased agricultural population of our region
ended the need for this particular program. There was some in-
crease in support for the seminary both through gifts from church
budgets and through return on investments. The surplus of income
over expenses for the year was shown in our auditor's report as
$14.09.

At a time when few persons were in a position to make large
financial gifts, Columbia Seminary was fortunate to have a number
of friends who were willing to contribute liberally of their time and
strength. Prominent among them was Mr. D. W. Robinson, a
distinguished attorney from Columbia, South Carolina, and an
elder in the Arsenal Hill Presbyterian Church. For years before the
institution was moved from Columbia, Mr. Robinson served as a
member and as chairman of its Investment Committee, con-
tributing generously of his time. He was the father of Dr. William
C. Robinson, who became a professor at Columbia Seminary in
1927. Mr. Robinson was elected a director of the institution in 1926
and served both on the Board and on the Executive Committee.

Until the seminary moved to Atlanta, most of its investments
were made in or near Columbia, South Carolina. Many of these were
in first mortgages on land or buildings, which appeared to provide
ample security. However, as a result of the Depression, the
seminary was not even receiving interest on its investments.

Although legal foreclosure on some of these properties would
have been possible, the seminary would have had difficulty in

26

disposing of these at anything like their real value, and in many
cases would have been perceived as cold and unfeeling to those who
had been its friends.

During these troubled years, Mr. Robinson continued to handle
the investments of the seminary in that area without remuneration.
This often involved difficult situations which he handled with care
and patience. Interest on the investments was collected when possi-
ble, and in some instances property was received and disposed of
for the seminary. Eventually most of the funds which had been in-
vested in mortgages in the Columbia area were collected, a result of
wise and skillful handling. After Mr. Robinson's death in 1935, the
handling of these properties was carried on by his son and
daughter, Mr. D. W. Robinson, Jr., and Miss Alice Robinson (later
Mrs. Johnston), who also served without remuneration. It is im-
possible to overestimate the significance of the service rendered by
these friends.

A noteworthy contribution of a different sort was made by Mrs.
Franklin C. Talmadge and Mrs. Samuel A. Cartledge. For more
than a century the institution's library had no adequate care. A
member of the faculty had been named as librarian each year, giv-
ing such supervision as was possible with only occasional student
assistance. The library when moved to Decatur had no adequate
catalog, and many valuable volumes risked serious deterioration or
permanent loss. Unfortunately, the financial situation precluded
employing a librarian. Mrs. Talmadge, the wife of a Presbyterian
minister, and Mrs. Cartledge, the wife of a professor, had some
library experience and training. For three years these ladies gave
generously of their time and strength to see that the library was
properly housed and its resources made widely available to
students. They even began to catalog the library in accordance with
the system of Union Theological Seminary in New York, yet it
would take years to complete the work. These friends continued
their efforts until 1937, when at last it became feasible to include a
paid librarian on the seminary staff. Miss Harriet Kehrer, a
graduate of the Library School of the University of Georgia, was
employed as the institution's first full-time librarian, serving at the
distressingly low salary of $50 per month. After Miss Kehrer's
resignation a few years later, Mrs. Julia D. Anderson served as
librarian until her retirement in 1949. During these years the
number of volumes and periodicals secured for the library gradual-
ly increased, and a policy of loaning books to ministers in the area
was established. However, the funds available for purchasing new
books and periodicals continued to be entirely inadequate.

27

In addition to her volunteer work in the library, Mrs. Samuel A.
Cartledge served as voluntary director of music. She proved
especially valuable in the enlistment and training of seminary
quartets. For years the institution was represented on various occa-
sions by its quartets, and these young men made fine represen-
tatives as they sang in various churches and at colleges and univer-
sities throughout the South. Mrs. Cartledge's work ended in 1937
when Dr. Charles A. Sheldon, minister of music at the First
Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, volunteered to give at least one
hour a week as an instructor in music and hymnology. This training
was given to the entire student body in classes held in the seminary
chapel. Thus was a long-felt need of the institution met for many
years, with the worship program of many congregations being
enriched through the largely unrecognized and unhonored work of
Dr. Sheldon.

Also during the 1930s lack of income from the Smyth endowment
threatened the continuation of the Thomas Smyth Foundation Lec-
tures which were begun through a bequest of the Rev. Thomas
Smyth, pastor of the Second Presbyterian Church of Charleston,
South Carolina, from 1831 to 1873. The generous action of scholars
who accepted invitations to lecture in return for expenses and
without honoraria prevented the suspension of the lectures. Three
who should be particularly mentioned are Dr. Frazier Hood of
Davidson College, Dr. Samuel M. Zwemer, former missionary to the
Moslem world and a professor at Princeton Theological Seminary,
and Dr. Cornelius VanTil of Westminster Theological Seminary.

Late in 1935 unusual circumstances made it possible for Colum-
bia Seminary to secure an additional professor. Friends and ad-
mirers of Dr. John S. Foster, then pastor of the First Presbyterian
Church in Winston-Salem, offered to provide the support for an ad-
ditional faculty member, provided that the funds be used in secur-
ing the services of Dr. Foster. After considering this offer carefully,
the Board decided to accept it with gratitude. It also went on record
that the seminary would accept such gifts only if the person so
designated were one whom the Board would have wished to secure
by its own volition if the necessary funds had been available. Dr.
Foster made a strong addition to the faculty for the next six years,
serving as acting professor of homiletics and pastoral theology.

Early in 1936, Dr. Ben R. Lacy, Jr., president of Union
Theological Seminary in Richmond, made an approach to me which
involved the whole question of theological education for the
Presbyterian Church, U.S. Even before the establishment of Col-
umbia Seminary in 1828, the suggestion had been made that the

28

Synod of South Carolina and Georgia join with the Presbyterians of
North Carolina and Virginia in establishing a single theological in-
stitution. The suggestion did not meet with approval, and the
establishment of Columbia Seminary ensued. Again and again dur-
ing the century which followed, the question of a merger of Colum-
bia and Union Seminaries was raised, but the Board of Directors of
Columbia was unwilling to agree unless the resulting seminary
could be located in Columbia, South Carolina. Negotiations on the
subject were conducted at least half a dozen times.

For various reasons Dr. Lacy, who had been a leader in bringing
Columbia Seminary to Atlanta, felt that 1936 was a time to open the
question anew. The Presbyterian Church, U.S., had experienced little
growth, the number of candidates for the ministry had declined, and
combining the two seminaries might result in considerable financial
savings. Columbia Seminary, as we have seen, had fallen on difficult
days financially and, in spite of a well-qualified faculty, did not have
a large student enrollment. Only a portion of the severe cuts made in
faculty salaries had been restored, and there seemed to be little
prospect of enlarged support for Columbia.

Under the circumstances, the proposal for merger deserved
careful thought. Prospects for solving Columbia's financial dif-
ficulties did not appear bright, and the church, which was barely
emerging from the Depression, seemed to have little zeal or means
for developing a strong seminary in Atlanta. The location of com-
bined institutions would necessarily have been Richmond, which
had a much stronger financial base, but Dr. Lacy was suggesting a
merger of the two seminaries rather than absorption of one by the
other, and indicated that a new name would be found for the
resulting institution.

At my suggestion Dr. Lacy joined me in visits to Dr. J. Sprole
Lyons, chairman of Columbia's Board, and to Mr. J. Bulow Camp-
bell, the institution's chief benefactor. Both gentlemen listened
carefully to Dr. Lacy, and though obviously cautious in their reac-
tions, agreed that the matter should be considered by the full
Board. A called meeting of that body was held at the First
Presbyterian Church of Atlanta on March 31, 1936. Dr. Lacy
presented the invitation of Union Theological Seminary, and a full
discussion followed. All members of the Board realized the serious
nature of the decision to be made and the uncertain circumstances
affecting Columbia's future. On the other hand, there was a natural
reluctance to consider terminating the life of this institution as
such, and to sacrifice the prayers and efforts which had located the
institution in Atlanta. Dr. S. C. Hodges, a ruling elder from

29

Greenwood, South Carolina, perhaps voiced the prevailing senti-
ment when he said: "I have had a good many times to make deci-
sions between the dictates of my head and of my heart. In the
main, I think that I have usually done better when I followed my
heart." He was saying that reason told him to accept the invita-
tion from Richmond, but that his heart inclined him to a different
conclusion. Dr. A. L. Patterson, a loyal alumnus of Columbia's
class of 1895 and a member of the Board of Directors for many
years, was more emphatic. "You can't kill Columbia Theological
Seminary," he declared. The Board reached no actual decision at
this meeting but expressed a desire to have the seminary remain
in Decatur if possible. A committee was appointed to ascertain
whether funds could be found to maintain the life and work of the
institution in this city.

Following this meeting, immediate steps were taken to inform
Atlanta Presbyterians of the crisis which had arisen and to request
an expression of their sentiments. I was called upon to lay the mat-
ter before the Presbyterian ministers of Atlanta, the Presbyterian
Officers Association, Atlanta Presbytery as a whole, and a mass
meeting of Presbyterians held at Central Presbyterian Church. In
each case I endeavored to state the issues frankly and fairly, point-
ing out on the one hand the generosity of the offer made by Union
Seminary and the difficulties faced by Columbia, but emphasizing
also the need and the opportunties for a strong theological
seminary to be located in this strategic center of the South. Each
group mentioned voted emphatically to decline the invitation from
Richmond and to raise funds for keeping the seminary in Atlanta.
The administration and the Board estimated that the prompt rais-
ing of $300,000 would be necessary to insure the maintenance of
the seminary. One hundred thousand dollars of this amount was
promised by Mr. John Bulow Campbell, upon condition that
$200,000 be raised from other sources. Like all of Mr. Campbell's
contributions to Columbia Seminary with the exception of that
made toward the erection of Campbell Hall as a memorial to his
mother this gift was made with the strict condition that it be
anonymous. That condition was carefully obeyed by the seminary
throughout Mr. Campbell's life, and only with the consent of his
family after his death have his many benefactions been made
public. Clearly without the great vision and generosity of Mr. John
Bulow Campbell, there would be no Columbia Theological
Seminary.

Unfortunately, the sentiment expressed by Presbyterians in the
various groups mentioned was not readily translated into financial

30

support. Indeed, by mid-summer it became evident that early suc-
cess could not be anticipated. At a meeting of the Executive Com-
mittee held on July 10, 1936, Dr. J. R. McCain, president of Agnes
Scott College and a long-time director of Columbia Theological
Seminary, advised Mr. Campbell that the only hope for the institu-
tion was for him to offer $75,000 on the condition that this be
matched dollar for dollar by other gifts, and that he underwrite for
five years a prospective deficit of $5,000 per year. Mr. Campbell
was so concerned that the seminary remain in Decatur that he
agreed to the new conditions.

By determined effort subscriptions amounting to slightly more
than $75,000 were secured, Mr. Campbell's challenge offer was met,
and the maintenance of the seminary in Decatur was guaranteed.
Union Theological Seminary was informed of this fact and its in-
vitation for a merger declined with appreciation. Had the offer not
been made, the financial life of Columbia Seminary would have re-
mained in jeopardy. Thus, in the providence of God Dr. Lacy, who
had played such a large part in the campaign to bring Columbia
Seminary to Decatur, became the human agency through which its
future usefulness was assured. Throughout all the negotiations he
conducted himself in every way as a friend, a Christian gentleman,
and a leader who was seeking the best interests of the church. Col-
umbia Seminary will ever remain grateful to him.

The payment in full of Columbia Seminary's indebtedness and
the burning of the institution's bonds in connection with the com-
mencement exercises of 1937 signaled the beginning of a new era in
the school's life.

The 1940 General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, U.S.,
recommended that no further campaigns in behalf of educational
institutions be undertaken until a thorough study of the various
schools could be made. Dr. George A. Works, a professor of the
University of Chicago, was employed to make the study, and the
considerable expenses involved were provided by the General
Assembly's Committee of Christian Education, the Presbyterian
Educational Association of the South, the J. Bulow Campbell Foun-
dation, and the General Education Board of New York. The report,
completed in 1942, indicated that for the most part the educational
institutions of the Southern Presbyterian Church had very inade-
quate support; it recommended closing some institutions and merg-
ing others. The concrete results of the study, however, were very
limited.

Regarding theological education, the study found various
weaknesses existing and was unjustifiably critical of the schools

31

concerned. Its principal recommendation was that Austin,
Louisville, and Columbia Seminaries be merged into one institution
to be located in Nashville, Tennessee a recommendation very
similar to that made by an Ad Interim Committee of the 1934
General Assembly. The Board of Austin Theological Seminary
voted unanimously to reject this new recommendation.

Although there was little favorable sentiment on the part of
Louisville and Columbia Seminaries, representatives of these two
schools held several meetings and received a very cordial invitation
from Dr. O. C. Carmichael, then chancellor of Vanderbilt Universi-
ty, to move to Nashville and affiliate with the university. He of-
fered all possible help in this connection and felt that a suitable
location could be secured. Though his offer was gracious, neither
seminary felt justified in abandoning its particular location and
nothing came of the recommendation. The Board, however, ex-
pressed its deep appreciation to Chancellor Carmichael for his
friendship and interest.

The enrollment of seventy-nine students in 1941 was the largest
in Columbia's history. That year Dr. J. Sprole Lyons, who had
played such a vitally important role in the development of Colum-
bia Seminary, resigned as chairman of the Board, and Dr. John
McSween was elected to succeed him. Because he had moved for a
time outside the membership of the Presbyterian Church, U.S., Dr.
McSween did not serve, and Dr. W. M. Elliott, then pastor of the
Druid Hills Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, was elected chairman.
Dr. Elliott himself served for only two years before accepting a call
to Texas, and Dr. William V. Gardner, pastor of Atlanta's First
Presbyterian Church, succeeded him.

The campaign for $200,000 which had been undertaken to meet
Mr. Campbell's challenge offer was completed in 1941. After mak-
ing proper provision for the welfare of his wife and of his daughter,
Miss Virginia Campbell, Mr. Campbell showed his further
statesmanship as a Christian businessman by establishing a
benevolent foundation, the trustees of which were responsible for
administering its funds to advance religious, educational, and
philanthropic causes. It was this foundation which actually paid
the final $100,000 promised by Mr. Campbell. Knowing of his long-
standing interest, the foundation has continued to be a generous
friend of Columbia Seminary through the years. In 1942, it agreed
to provide a gift of $50,000 if the seminary raised a like amount by
October 1, 1943. This was accomplished upon request that the foun-
dation promise another $50,000 two years later if the seminary
raised a matching amount by January 1, 1946. Again the seminary

32

was successful in its efforts.

In 1950 the foundation agreed to contribute $100,000 toward a
library for the seminary if the institution could raise $250,000 by
October, 1951. This challenge grant was subsequently increased to
$200,000 upon the condition that the seminary raise $375,000 so
that a wing to complete the unfinished end of Campbell Hall could
be erected simultaneously with the new library. In making all of
these grants the trustees of the Campbell Foundation scrupulously
observed the instructions of the founder that its grants be
anonymous. Only after the passage of time and because no real
history of Columbia Seminary could be written without reference to
Mr. Campbell and to the J. Bulow Campbell Foundation, have the
trustees given permission for these facts to be divulged.

The early 1940s saw a slow but steady increase in the resources of
the institution. Significant legacies were provided by Mr. David
Campbell, a brother of Mr. J. Bulow Campbell; by Mr. J. M. Daniel
of Hapeville, Georgia; and by Mrs. Mary Wilbur Park of New
Jersey.

The death of Mrs. Fanny J. Bryan a few years earlier in Columbia
had provided the seminary with a legacy of $35,000. In accordance
with the understanding reached between Mrs. Bryan and Dr. R. T.
Gillespie, this legacy was used to endow graduate fellowships
awarded to outstanding students of the seminary. Thus, a real lack
in the school's program was met. At about the same time the
seminary was notified that it had been left one-eighth of the estate
of Mr. Luther Henderson Maxwell in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and a
gift from the estate of Dr. R. A. Simpson, a ruling elder from
Washington, Georgia. The death of Mrs. R. G. Pearson, who had
previously made an annuity agreement with the seminary, added
$10,000 to the productive endowment.

A gradual improvement in the seminary's financial situation,
both through endowments and through gifts from the supporting
synods, made possible a small annual increase in faculty salaries.
The old seminary property in Columbia was finally sold to Colum-
bia Bible College for $75,000. Provision for the future welfare of
professors was also first made systematically as the seminary
enrolled all of its faculty members in the newly established Annuity
Fund of the Presbyterian Church, U.S., undertaking to pay 7 per-
cent of individual salaries into that fund annually.

During the forties we made several minor but psychologically im-
portant improvements in the physical equipment of the seminary.
One in particular involved the chapel. The architecture of the
:hapel was conducive to worship, and appropriate pulpit furniture

33

had been obtained with gifts from the student body and alumni.
The pulpit itself was a memorial to Dr. R. T. Gillespie, given by
members of the student body. The communion table was a gift
from members of the faculty of Emory University's Candler School
of Theology; it served as a reminder of our relationship both to that
institution and to the church as a whole. Unfortunately, however,
funds had been lacking to purchase pews, and seating ar-
rangements were both unattractive and inappropriate, consisting
of a strange mixture of chairs designed for classroom use and of
straight-backed, folding chairs. Despite custodian Joe Dixon's best
efforts, these could seldom be kept in orderly rows for long, and the
impression made was sometimes quite disorderly. As in most other
schools, graduating classes customarily made some gift to the in-
stitution, and the class of 1940 decided to remedy the situation. In
order to persuade the seminary to secure appropriate pews, it voted
that its own gift should be a pew and persuaded the two
undergraduate classes to commit themselves to similar gifts. With
this encouragement, the administration proceeded to order pews,
most of which were soon subscribed for as memorials to various in-
dividuals. Dr. S. A. Cartledge and I provided pews as memorials to
our fathers, with the indication that our grandfathers had also been
graduates of Columbia Seminary, a situation not often paralleled in
the lives of institutions.

In 1942 the auditors' report indicated that the net worth of the
seminary exceeded $1,000,000 for the first time, slightly more than
half of this amount representing endowment. These were, of course,
war years and the situation in the church and the nation was far
from normal. Nevertheless, the government's policy that bona fide
candidates for the ministry should be exempt from military service
made it possible for our enrollment to remain at normal figures. To
the credit of those concerned, it should be said that few if any can-
didates for the ministry enrolled at Columbia Seminary were taking
advantage of this provision; rather, these men were here out of a
sense of genuine call.

A goodly percentage of Columbia graduates enlisted in the
chaplaincy and served with distinction in various theaters of war.
At the same time, a real shortage of men to supply vacant pulpits
had developed, so that for the sake of civilian morale the decision of
the draft boards was exceedingly wise.

In none of the financial campaigns mentioned except that of
1936, had the seminary employed professional fund-raising
assistance. The institution itself naturally had to be responsible for
generating publicity in the various synods. Providentially, several

34

of the legacies described earlier came to Columbia during this
period and could be counted as contributions toward the total re-
quired. One unique method of raising funds involved issuing a let-
ter late in the calendar year with the signatures of outstanding
Christian laymen. Among those who served in this capacity were
Mr. H. Lane Young, Mr. George Winship, Dr. J. R. McCain, Mr.
John A. Sibley, and Mr. J. K. Hotley. Since several hundred letters
of appeal were issued in each instance, these busy laymen signed
few of the letters themselves but gave permission for then-
signatures to be affixed by representatives of the seminary.

Members of the faculty were pressed into service, and several of
them became rather expert at forgery. Dr. Gutzke was especially
skilled, and his signature could scarcely be distinguished from that
of the person whom he represented. He explained that he could
study the signature of the person concerned and, by endeavoring to
think himself into the mind of that person, could make the
reproduction necessary. It is fortunate that he was not inclined to
use this skill in a different way.

Much credit should be given to the Rev. P. D. Patrick, a Colum-
bia graduate who was then pastor of the Presbyterian Church at
King's Mountain, North Carolina. Mr. Patrick was not only a loyal
alumnus but one who saw the raising of funds as an opportunity for
Christian service. On several occasions he used a week or more of
his vacation traveling for the seminary voluntarily and securing
contributions for it, especially in the Synod of South Carolina where
he had many contacts. At a later date the seminary secured his ser-
vices full-time, but this was not until after he had given his time
without compensation to raise funds in four different campaigns.

In 1954, through the initiative of Mrs. Alex R. Bachelor and
other interested ladies, a group met to organize themselves as
Friends of Columbia Seminary, and a total of $823.40 was received.
Under the active leadership of Dr. Robert L. Stamper and Mrs.
Manfred George Gutzke, this group developed rapidly and spon-
sored an annual meeting on the campus. One project which strong-
ly attracted the ladies was the endowment of the Peter Marshall
Chair of Homiletics, to be raised in honor of probably the best-
known of all Columbia Seminary graduates in the twentieth cen-
tury. Indeed, through the book A Man Called Peter and the subse-
quent film based on that book, Dr. Marshall's life became familiar
to multitudes and a source of inspiration to many.

The Peter Marshall Chair of Homiletics could not be fully en-
dowed until later, but the initial step in that direction was taken by
the Friends of Columbia Seminary. This organization grew and

35

prospered and has now been a part of the seminary's life for over
thirty years, calling itself at first the Friends of Columbia
Seminary, and now Columbia Friendship Circle. An annual
meeting, usually attended by several hundred persons from each
supporting synod, is held on the campus during the dogwood
season each spring, and this group has contributed much to the life
of the seminary through gifts for various purposes and prayers for
God's blessing upon the work of the institution.

The growth of the seminary in the 1950s made it apparent that
far greater resources would be necessary for the adequate support
of its work. The Board of Directors, facing this fact, estimated that
at least $2,000,000 should be raised over the next five years.
However, it remained for an outside force to provide the stimulus
needed for a greater effort.

One of the most far-seeing laymen of our church, Mr. Laurence H.
Favrot of Houston, Texas, had recognized the imperative need of
the Presbyterian Church, U.S., to develop strong theological
seminaries. In 1967 Mr. Favrot established as a part of an educa-
tional foundation an endowment producing $40,000 in income each
year to be divided equally among our church's four seminaries. Col-
umbia's portion of this gift provided additional salaries for pro-
fessors and financial aid for students doing graduate work.
However, its greatest benefit would come later.

In 1968 the seminary requested permission to use most of its
income from the Favrot Fund to make a thorough study of this in-
stitution and its possibilities. A strong study committee was
secured with Dr. Charles L. King, pastor of the First Church of
Houston, Texas, as chairman, along with R. T. L. Liston of King
College, Dr. E. G. Homrighausen of Princeton Theological
Seminary, and Dr. J. R. McCain, president of Agnes Scott College
and member of the General Education Board. The results of their
careful study, completed over a period of seven months, were
presented in a bulletin printed by the seminary.

The study committee concluded that Columbia Seminary ought
to raise at least $10,000,000 at the earliest possible date. Five
million dollars of this amount ought to be sought in an immediate
campaign, and the remaining $5,000,000 as soon as practicable.
This amount was a staggering one for the Board and the
administration, which in times past had done well to think in terms
of hundreds of thousands rather than of millions of dollars. At the
same time, the reasoning embodied in the report was so obviously
sound that the Board gave its full endorsement to the undertaking
and initiated steps to secure the necessary funds as soon as possible.

36

Once again the John Bulow Campbell Foundation provided the
stimulus for the campaign by contributing one-tenth of the total
amount, provided that $4,500,000 could be secured from other
sources. Some steps had already been taken in this direction, and
further plans were effected under the guidance of Dr. Robert L.
Stamper and Dr. Paul D. Patrick. The synods responded whole-
heartedly and by 1975 the seminary reported full success in the
undertaking. Too much credit cannot be given to these two men
who worked long, faithfully, and effectively in completing the task.
Unquestionably one result of the campaign was to increase the
loyalty of the seminary's five supporting synods and their sense of
closeness to the institution. Also, as in practically all such cam-
paigns, the presentation of financial need resulted in the dedication
of more lives to the work of the gospel ministry. For example, Dr.
Ben R. Lacy had borne testimony many years earlier that Dr.
Walter W. Moore's visits to his home church in Raleigh, North
Carolina, had been a strong factor in leading him into the ministry.
He said it was true that Dr. Moore was usually there seeking finan-
cial support for the institution. At the same time, his coming was a
reminder that men must be prepared for the ministry and was a fac-
tor in leading this young man to face the claims of the ministry
upon his own life. A similar testimony could doubtless be borne by
many others.

Although more than half of the $5,000,000 raised was placed in
endowment, it was also important to enlarge and improve the
physical assets of the seminary. Consequently, two handsome
buildings, the Student Center and a dormitory which came to be
known as Florida Hall, were completed in 1961. These buildings are
considered in a later chapter.

As usual, the campaign received many gifts, some small in
amount but large in the devotion and concern which they
represented. These, for the most part, we can only mention but do
so with deep gratitude. One gift unparalleled in my knowledge and
experience was for $200,000 given by a Columbia senior. Mr.
Donald Munson and his wife presented this gift with a special con-
cern that it be used for evangelism or for missions, a wish the
seminary has carried out. I do not know of any person who, as a stu-
dent, has contributed in like amount to the work of the institution
he was attending.

A considerable number of legacies became payable to Columbia
Seminary during this campaign. These gifts, coming at the time
they did, seemed to be another evidence of God's blessing upon the
work of the school. Of course, many donations resulted from the

37

widespread existence in the church of a growing interest in
theological education. This interest manifested itself in gifts made
at this specific time and particularly for the work of the seminary
as outlined by the survey committee. I cannot fully express enough
appreciation for these and all such gifts. I can only affirm the prov-
idence of God in leading individuals through the years to give of
their resources so generously to the life of Columbia Seminary.

38

Inset: Graduation day at Oxford, 1925.

Dr Richards, far left, faculty and friends at note-burning for Campbell Hall, May 1938.

The seminary dining hall, circa the 1940s.

The Columbia Seminary faculty, circa 1940s.

Right: The Richards family, circa 1946.
Mac and Evelyn Richards with their
children (kneeling) Charles Malone and
Mary Makemie and James McDowell, Jr.
(infant). Charles Malone Richards,
Dr. Richards' father, stands at far left.

Next page: The seminary community at
worship, circa 1950.

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Al Mathes, left, presents Dr. Richards with
an Oldsmobile 198 as a gift from the alumni
on his 20th anniversary as president of
Columbia.

Dr. John Mackay (left) admires the silver
service presented to Dr. and Mrs. Richards on
his 25th anniversary as president.

(1-r) Dr. Richards, Dr. J. B. Green, and Dr. P. D. Miller break ground for the Student Center,
1959.

The faculty of Columbia Seminary, 1959.

The faculty assembled for graduation day, 1962

1966: Dr. J. Davison Philips,
left, who became president
of Columbia Seminary in
1976, and Dr. Richards.

A portrait of Peter Marshall, the seminary's most famous
graduate, hangs in the president's office.

Dr. Richards' birthday party, November 1970.

Three

Faculty and Staff

An oft-quoted statement concerning what it takes to make an
educational institution places Mark Hopkins at one end of a log and a
student at the other. This is, of course, an oversimplification and an
exaggeration. Nevertheless, it does emphasize the vital importance of
the teacher as well as the student. No institution will be stronger than
its faculty, and Columbia Seminary through the years has been for-
tunate in the quality of those who have served as teachers.

In its early years in Decatur the seminary was served by a small but
dedicated and able group of men, most of whom came with the institu-
tion from Columbia, South Carolina.

The senior member during this trying economic time was Dr. W. M.
McPheeters, who was completing forty-four years of service in Old
Testament language, literature, and exegesis, but who had also
taught courses in apologetics. Perhaps his primary contribution as a
teacher was his belief that interpretation is a science and that by
restoring the original context of a document its real meaning can be
understood. What he described as the ' 'architectonic principle" of the
science of interpretation was the statement: "The context that is to
say, the original context and the entire context determined and will
disclose the significance and force of the symbols which together con-
stitute a given writing." The constituent parts of the science of inter-
pretation were grammatical interpretation, literary interpretation,
historical interpretation, logical interpretation, and psychological in-
terpretation. Dr. McPheeters devoted years to the development of his
principles and to the formulation of definitions and procedures. Unfor-
tunately, he was a perfectionist who, despite secretarial aid provided
by Dr. Gillespie, was never able to complete a planned book on the
science of interpretation, although he did prepare a pamphlet which
was used as a textbook in his course on interpretation.

39

As an exacting taskmaster, Dr. McPheeters often incurred resent-
ment and near-rebellion from his students, but he never failed to win
their respect. Those who sat in his classes may not have remembered
or practiced very well the precepts which he taught, but they could
never forget the impression left by the man himself. For such a man
the truth and authority of the Word of God demanded the utmost
diligence in scholarship, and one could hardly come out of his class
without a higher concept of the responsibility resting upon anyone
who would undertake to interpret and present the truths of Scripture.
One of his former students, who has now been in the ministry for half
a century, said recently that whenever he had been tempted through
the years to use a text as a pretext, he had always thought of Dr.
McPheeters, and been reminded to go back to the context and to base
his message upon the real meaning of Scripture.

During the meeting of the General Assembly in Columbia's centen-
nial year, 1928, the alumni gave a dinner in honor of Dr. McPheeters
at the Central Presbyterian Church of Atlanta. Many of his former
students offered testimonials to the service of this man, who had then
just completed forty years as a professor of Columbia Seminary.
However, Dr. States Jacobs, then a minister of the Synod of Texas,
brought down the house when he said: "All you fellows have been tell-
ing how much you loved and admired Dr. McPheeters. I used to hate
him like the devil" Dr. McPheeters smiled widely and said, "You had
good reason to."

Students sometimes openly objected to his methods in the
classroom, and Dr. McPheeters more than once responded by remind-
ing them of the congregation which had complained to presbytery
about the sermons of its pastor. "They don't do any more good than
pouring water on a duck's back," said one member. The pastor
responded, "Is that the fault of the water, or of the duck's back?"

When asked a question in class, Dr. McPheeters would sometimes
close his eyes and spend a little while in thought before giving his
reply. On one occasion he answered a student by saying, "Mr. A., that
is a very pertinent question." The student, filled more with awe of his
teacher than understanding, replied, "I beg your pardon, Doctor, I
didn't mean to be pertinent."

The church at large regarded Dr. McPheeters as controversial
because from time to time he strongly criticized views expressed by
ministers of his denomination. He once said to me that he did not
want to enter the presence of his Lord without having born witness to
the truth as best he could. In some of these controversies he was
doubtless mistaken and aroused the resentment of some of his
brethren. Even in these instances, however, he acted from a strong

40

sense of duty and responsibility, not from any personal animosity.
One of his colleagues said one day, "Have you noticed that all of Dr.
McPheeters' heretics are way off, in Arkansas or some remote place?
Dr. McPheeters would find it hard to believe that someone he knew
well could be a heretic." Once in a faculty meeting he referred to one of
his targets as "a devil," but he called the faculty together the next
morning before classes began to apologize for saying something so un-
charitable.

Another of his students has remarked that Dr. McPheeters was a
disciplined Christian, often commenting that "we are custodians of
God's honor as well as of His truth." A man of saintly appearance,
especially in his later years, Dr. McPheeters ended his career as an ac-
tive member of the faculty at the end of the 1932-33 session. He was
then elected Professor Emeritus, living in Charlotte until his death in
1935.

Following Dr. McPheeters in faculty seniority when the seminary
moved to Decatur was Dr. E. D. Kerr, a graduate of Davidson and of
Columbia Seminary. After pursuing graduate studies at the Universi-
ty of Chicago and Princeton Theological Seminary, he had been pastor
of several churches before being called to Columbia as professor of
Greek and Hebrew in 1915. Later he became professor of Hebrew and
cognate languages while still serving the Aveleigh Presbyterian
Church of Newberry, South Carolina, as pastor until the seminary's
move to Decatur. Dr. Kerr was a superb teacher of language, as those
who sat under him can attest. It is true that as the years passed he
became increasingly aware that many students were never going to
master Hebrew, and adjusted his requirements accordingly. Never-
theless, those serious students who did special work with him knew
the real extent of his scholarship and the value of his guidance.

A man of dry humor, Dr. Kerr did as much to make the study of
Hebrew as bearable as perhaps anyone could have done. His wife,
Mrs. Lucille Kerr, was a charming lady but also a strong character
whose supervision Dr. Kerr managed to escape in various ways.
Although Mrs. Kerr strongly opposed the use of coffee, even placing
Sanka coffee in Maxwell House cans as a mild deceit, Dr. Kerr fre-
quently managed to slip away to an upstreet cafe or to a student's
room to enjoy the real beverage. On one occasion when he and a col-
league were having their cups constantly refilled at a dinner, the com-
panion remarked that fortunately coffee was comparatively harmless
in that at least it did not make a man go home intoxicated. "Yes," said
Dr. Kerr, "and another good thing your wife can't smell it on your
breath." Dr. Kerr was also known to accept students' rides to within a
discreet distance of his home, when his mate supposed that he was out

41

walking for his health. Another sage observation was this one which
he delivered to a group at the table one day: "It's a great pity the
Roman Catholic Church adopted the rule of celibacy for the clergy. If
priests had been permitted to marry, we never would have had the
doctrine of infallibility of the pope."

Along with his humor, however, Dr. Kerr held strong convictions,
and the reality of his faith made a deep impression on many lives. A
man thoroughly committed to the authority of Scripture as divinely
inspired, he held perhaps somewhat broader views on this subject
than most of his colleagues. Once a strong fundamentalist who was
the speaker at chapel quoted many authorities to support his
statements. When his class had gathered downstairs after the ser-
vice, Dr. Kerr tapped his pencil on the desk for a while and then said,
with a disregard of grammar which was entirely uncharacteristic of
him, "Young gentlemen, it don't matter who said it, if it ain't so."
The genuine humility and faith of the man is revealed in another
statement made in a different context. During class a student asked
one day, "Dr. Kerr, do you think God could possibly be just and send
any man to hell?" Dr. Kerr paused for a little while and then said,
"Yes, God could be just and send me to hell." It was a profound
statement characteristic of a man who did not have to judge others
because he knew we are saved only by the grace of God.

Dr. Melton Clark also moved with the institution from South
Carolina to Georgia, serving as professor of English Bible,
homiletics, and religious education from 1920 to 1931. A graduate of
the University of South Carolina and of Columbia Seminary, Dr.
Clark had been the distinguished pastor of churches in Florence and
Charleston, South Carolina, and Greensboro, North Carolina, before
beginning his career in the classroom. A polished gentleman who
was at home in any circle, he won from his students the nickname
"Sweet Thing." He brought a wealth of practical experience to the
classroom and was an excellent representative of the institution
before the public.

Another professor who moved with the seminary from its former
location was Dr. James Benjamin Green, who had served as pro-
fessor of systematic theology since 1921. Dr. Green was a graduate
of Peabody Normal College in Nashville and of Union Seminary in
Richmond. As a teacher for more than thirty years he made a pro-
found impression upon those who sat in his classes. Because he had
been troubled for years by weak eyesight, Dr. Green was not as en-
cyclopedic a reader and scholar as he desired to be. However, he
possessed more important qualities. He had a keen and incisive
mind, and was a master of Reformed theology. As a teacher he had

42

few equals. His was a rare gift of analysis, of synthesis, and of clear
and forceful presentation. He was a man with deep convictions
which he shared with his students. At the same time he exhibited
real charity for his brethren. As an excellent preacher, he assumed
responsibility for teaching homiletics after Dr. Clark retired from
that position in 1931.

Perhaps Dr. Green's greatest love, however, was for teaching the
Bible, and in this he excelled. He was especially devoted to the
Psalms, on which he often taught elective courses in his later years.
One principle which he laid down for his students as they became
preachers was: "Preach Bible truths in Bible proportions." It is a
principle too often neglected in practice.

A devoted family man, Dr. Green emphasized the importance of
marriage for the minister, saying, "A man is only half a man until
he is married.' ' One of his sayings which could have been
misunderstood had it not been for the context of his life was,
"Marry as soon as you can, and as often as necessary." After his
first wife died, he did indeed remarry, and his loyal helpmate during
all of his Decatur years at the seminary was Mrs. Lillian B. Green,
who herself made a contribution of real importance to Columbia
through her concern for students and their needs. Although a
somewhat shy man who did not express his feelings easily, Dr.
Green had a warm affection for and interest in his students. Some
of his more pithy remarks concerning them are mentioned in the
next chapter.

A rather different person from any already mentioned was Dr.
William Childs Robinson, who began his career at Columbia
Seminary in 1927 teaching ecclesiastical history and polity. A
graduate of Roanoke College and Columbia Seminary, he had taken
graduate work at Princeton Seminary and earned his Ph.D. at Har-
vard University. During the years between Princeton and Harvard,
he was the highly successful and much loved pastor of the
Presbyterian Church at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania an unusual
post for a South Carolinian who before and after this experience re-
mained strongly opposed to union between the northern and
southern branches of the Presbyterian Church. Dr. Robinson was
an ardent and able defender of Protestant orthodoxy. A scholar by
instinct, he brought a fresh emphasis upon scholarship into his
classroom, and his influence was quickly seen in the new volumes
which were secured for the library and in the requirements which he
made for their use. A wide reader, Dr. Robinson kept abreast of cur-
rent developments in theology at home and abroad, and from the
beginning of his career became a frequent contributor to numerous

43

religious papers and journals. Many of these articles were con-
troversial and did not win popularity for the young teacher, but his
opponents soon learned that they could not dismiss his writings
lightly.

As a teacher, Dr. Robinson demanded honest work from his
students and for the most part received it. At the same time he
evinced genuine interest in the members of his class as individuals.
His emphasis in the classroom was not so much upon dates and
events but upon historical theology. A side of Dr. Robinson's
character which was not apparent to the general public stemmed
from his real pastor's heart. Not only was this shown at Get-
tysburg, but also in a number of other congregations he served as
temporary supply and where he won the hearts of those whom he
served. A man genuinely interested in evangelism, he taught the
history of missions for a number of years, and he not only encour-
aged the evangelistic and missionary interest of his students but
often participated in their evangelistic activities.

In his teaching Dr. Robinson constantly emphasized the doctrine
of justification by faith and from time to time reinforced it by say-
ing, "It is not thy hold on Christ that saves you; it is his hold on
you." Occasionally Dr. Robinson would ask, "Who is the head of
the Church?" A student would say very softly, "Jesus Christ,"
whereupon the professor would stamp his foot on the floor and with
a booming voice reply, "Don't say it, dear brother, shout it!" "Dear
brother" was his characteristic term for addressing a student. More
than once he gave the advice, "When you are preaching and you
say, 'I think,' I hope that some dear brother will stand up and say,
'I don't care what you think, tell us what the Word says.' " Once a
student was asking repeated, rapid-fire questions without giving
the professor time to answer, Dr. Robinson laughingly took him by
both ears and said, "Dear brother, the good Lord gave you two ears
but only one mouth now hush and listen! " On another occasion a
member of the class asked Dr. Robinson, "Isn't God dependent
upon man?" He did not finish the question since Dr. Robinson
broke in with, "God forbid!" The piece of chalk in his hand shat-
tered against the wall, and the remainder of the class was spent
answering this shocking question. After the bell one of the students
picked up the chalk fragments and handed these to Dr. Robinson,
saying, "I was not able to get the ink bottle that Luther threw at
the devil, but I did get this piece of chalk."

A final memory of Dr. Robinson, shared by more than one stu-
dent, was the reverence of his address to the God of Holiness and
Majesty as he led in public prayer in chapel services and elsewhere.

44

The youngest member of the faculty at this time was Dr. S. A.
Cartledge, who had only graduated from Columbia in 1929. Or-
dinarily, a seminary professor is expected to have some experience
in the pastorate before entering upon his teaching duties. In this
case, however, Dr. Hunter Blakely, who had been prepared for the
chair of New Testament, resigned after only one year. Dr. Gillespie
turned to the young Cartledge, who had just completed his Ph.D. in
New Testament studies at the University of Chicago. Beginning his
classroom duties in 1930, he was well equipped by character and in-
tellectual gifts as well as by training for his task. There was nothing
showy or ostentatious about the young man as he went about his
work quietly and effectively, serving the seminary for forty-four
years before his retirement. Thoroughly loyal to the faith, he was
careful to present various views with objectivity, and to under-
stand viewpoints other than his own. To all who knew him, he
represented what a Christian gentleman should be.

One of Dr. Cartledge's works, A Conservative Introduction to the
New Testament, was published in 1944 and widely used as a text-
book in various institutions for many years, being reprinted again
and again. His publishers, the Zondervan Company, were so
pleased that they requested him to prepare a companion volume, A
Conservative Introduction to the Old Testament Because the
evidence in this case was not as clear, Dr. Cartledge' s treatment of
the subject was not quite as conservative as many would have
desired, and he became the object of sharp attacks in church
publications and of opposition by some members of the Board of
Directors. His essential loyalty to the authority of Scripture was so
obvious, however, that it could not be mistaken and this period of
controversy soon passed. One student, later to be a foreign mis-
sionary, has written that it was in Dr. Cartledge' s New Testament
class that he first came to understand the real meaning of justifica-
tion by faith. There are doubtless others who could bear like
testimony.

Dr. Patrick Henry Carmichael, who came to the faculty in 1933,
served for only six years as professor of Bible and Christian educa-
tion. In addition to his effective work in the classroom, he was a
warm friend of students and also worked tirelessly to establish
closer relationships between the seminary and its constituency. His
practical concern for improving and beautifying the campus will be
noted elsewhere, but his zeal for strengthening the seminary's pro-
gram of instruction was equally great.

Upon Dr. Carmichael's resignation in 1939, Dr. Manfred George
Gutzke, then professor of Bible at Austin College, was called to

45

succeed him. Dr. Gutzke had once been the heavyweight boxing
champion in the Canadian army, and his powerful physique made
this easy to believe. Nevertheless, he was a man of gentle spirit and
of gracious and friendly disposition. His spiritual life had been a
real pilgrimage, leading him from an agnostic youth to the warm
Reformed faith which brought him into the ministry of the
Presbyterian Church, U.S. He had spent some years in the
pastorate before teaching at Austin College, and after coming to
Columbia Seminary was granted leave of absence to complete his
Ph.D. in education at Columbia University. Characteristically, he
chose to write his thesis on the relationship of John Dewey's
philosophy to Christian education, his choice of Dewey's Columbia
University having been made because he did not want it said that
he had misrepresented the teachings of that scholar. The approval
for his thesis under the circumstances was a significant achieve-
ment, but unfortunately his published thesis has not become widely
known.

Dr. Gutzke was gifted in the simple presentation of Scripture and
in the use of appropriate illustrations. From the beginning he was
in wide demand as a Bible teacher, and in later years wrote
numerous books and radio programs about the Bible. A very early
riser and a hard worker, Dr. Gutzke sometimes had trouble remain-
ing awake at inactive periods later in the day. It was the custom at
Columbia Seminary for members of the faculty to take turns in-
troducing guest lecturers, and to sit on the platform behind these
distinguished scholars as they delivered their addresses. Unfor-
tunately, Dr. Gutzke found it very difficult to stay awake under
these circumstances, and the student audience found great
pleasure in watching his head nod and then sink upon his chest in a
nap from which he would suddenly awaken and draw himself erect
before repeating the process. At times it was feared that members
of the student body were hopeful of seeing him collapse and fall out
of his chair entirely. Eventually the faculty thought it best to
relieve Dr. Gutzke of this platform service so that he might sleep
peacefully as a member of the congregation. Nothing in this
humorous situation, however, could detract from the genuine
spiritual impact of Dr. Gutzke's life and teaching and from the im-
pression which he made on countless students.

Others in Columbia's past have played parts of inestimable im-
portance in the life of the institution although they were not
members of the faculty. One of these was Miss C. Virginia Har-
rison, whose official title was Bursar and Secretary to the Presi-
dent. Either position might have been considered a full-time job,

46

yet they did not even suggest the full scope of her activities.

A native of Johnston, South Carolina, Miss Harrison attended
Winthrop College before coming to Atlanta in a business capacity.
In 1925 she became associated with Columbia Seminary when Dr.
Richard T. Gillespie secured her services in the greater Atlanta
campaign office. So efficient was she that Dr. Gillespie placed more
and more responsibility in her hands, and brought her to work on
the seminary campus when the major part of the campaign collec-
tions had been completed. During the years of his illness and the
subsequent two years when Columbia Seminary was without a
president, she provided enormous strength and stability to the in-
stitution. Indeed, without her help the transition to my administra-
tion in 1932 would have been almost impossible.

During the years which followed, she served as secretary to the
president and handled a heavy load of dictation with exemplary
neatness and efficiency. At the same time she served as the
seminary's bursar, handling all student accounts and keeping the
books not only for internal affairs but for investment accounts as
well. She served as postmistress for the campus, handled the
seminary bookstore, arranged payrolls, and helped to supervise
campus maintenance. It is small wonder that she had to be "all
business" when she dealt with students and that sometimes she
may have seemed somewhat brusque and unfeeling in her dealings
with them. Outside of business hours, however, things were quite
different for she had a warm and friendly heart and a deep concern
for students' welfare.

Her business dealings were conducted through the cashier's win-
dow in an area of Campbell Hall protected by light bronze bars.
Hence the seminary's students came to speak of "Miss Harrison
behind the bars" and "Miss Harrison outside the bars." To them
she seemed to be two different persons in accordance with her loca-
tion and business, but most of them came to have a deep respect
and affection for her.

Miss Harrison carried these responsibilities for about ten years
without any real assistance, only occasional part-time help. The
president of a sister institution visiting the campus asked especial-
ly to meet Miss Harrison, whose fame had spread abroad. She was
doing what it took three or more persons on his own campus to do,
and he wanted to know how that was possible.

Actually, there were at least two explanations for Miss
Harrison's success. One was her native ability and the fact that her
efficiency was unmatched, at least in the experience of this observ-
er. The other explanation is found in the selflessness with which she

47

gave herself to the work. She had no concept of an eight-hour work-
ing day and was often to be found in her office until nine or ten
o'clock in the evening as she completed her bookkeeping. Such ser-
vice was not required of her, and indeed I remonstrated with her
more than once on the subject, but she loved Columbia Seminary
and the church, and counted it all joy to do her work well as a ser-
vant of Christ.

Another person worthy of highest praise was the Rev. Joseph
Dixon, a black man who had begun his service to the seminary
while still in South Carolina and who came with the institution to
its new location. He had lost one arm in a railway accident but had
completely overcome that handicap. His task was to sweep the
halls and classrooms of the administration building and to see that
these were well kept. During the winter he kept the school's two
large boilers stoked with coal, coming early in the morning to see
that the buildings were comfortably heated before students arose.
Fortunately, it was possible to use a student on scholarship to tend
the furnace after he went home in the late afternoon. In addition to
this, he did as much as he could to maintain the unpaved walkways
in good condition, and to keep what lawn there was at that time
suitably mowed.

He had prepared a device which he affixed to one handle of a
wheelbarrow and then slipped over the shoulder from which his arm
was missing; this enabled him to handle a wheelbarrow with ease,
which he did both on the campus and in the furnace room. I have
seen him remove light fixtures and replace them more skillfully
with one hand than most persons could with two. Dr. McPheeters
used to say that Joe Dixon was the best sermon he had ever seen or
heard on using what God gives you in the service of your Maker.

The Rev. Dixon was a man of friendly dispositon, with a ready
smile, never complaining. He had a wife and six children, and one
wonders how he possibly supported them on the limited wages
which the seminary was then able to pay. Before the move to
Decatur, Mrs. Dixon presented her husband with triplets when
there were already three older children in the family. One student,
hearing the news and greeting the new father the next day, said,
"Well, I hear you had an addition to your family yesterday."
"Yes," he replied, "it may have been an addition, but it seemed like
a multiplication to me."

A man of strong Christian faith, Mr. Dixon held a license as a
Methodist minister. Apparently he was seldom called upon to
preach, but on several occasions we invited him to preach to the
faculty and student body at the morning chapel service. His

48

remarks were always edifying and well-received, although it was
difficult for him to terminate them, and for this reason his invita-
tions could not be too frequent. He was a man well-loved and
respected and to him more than to most persons could be applied
the words of the Lord, "He that is faithful in that which is least is
faithful also in much."

One other person whose contribution must not be overlooked is
Mr. Plato Henderson. He began work in the seminary kitchen in
Columbia when less than twenty years of age and proved himself to
be a master chef. He did not at first accompany the seminary to
Decatur, but only a few months had passed before Dr. Gillespie
realized that a mistake had been made and sent for him to join the
staff as chef. This he did admirably for more than forty years, and
students consistently enjoyed some of the most skillfully prepared
meals to be served anywhere. Like most students they complained
about the institutional fare from time to time, but it was always
about the content rather than the mode of preparation. During his
later years, when the student body had grown and assistants could
be provided for him, he developed quite a lordly manner and would
sit in a corner giving directions without undertaking menial tasks
himself.

Dr. Hunter Blakely related that Mr. Henderson told him he could
always tell when a man was going to be a really good preacher by
the size of his appetite, his ability being measured by the amount
he could eat. Returning to the campus on occasion and chatting
with Mr. Henderson, he asked the latter whether there were any
promising preachers in the student body. "Yes, sir," he said, "we
got some great preachers coming on at Columbia Seminary now."
Perhaps it was fortunate that he did not mention any names.

Columbia was usually considered the most conservative of our
seminaries, probably because the views of Dr. Robinson were so
well known through his writings, but in other areas the attitude of
the faculty was decidedly progressive. Columbia Seminary early
became a member of the American Association of Theological
Schools and in 1939 was one of the forty-six seminaries placed on
its original accreditation list. In 1937, largely at the instigation of
Dr. Carmichael, Columbia pioneered for the Presbyterian Church,
U.S., by approving a plan for the clinical training of its students.
This training was to be taken between the middle and senior years
of a student's life, and to be under the supervision of some minister
or church executive approved by the faculty and willing to
cooperate in the undertaking. Although the faculty was not in the
position to require that any person take this added year of training,

49

it did encourage its students to do so and assist them in making
necessary arrangements. The first students to accept clinical ap-
pointments were Mr. Conrad Stayton and Mr. James Boyce, who
entered upon their clinical years in 1938.

Another forward step taken by Columbia at this time involved a
plan for sabbatic leaves by members of the faculty. Originally these
leaves were for six months only, but were later approved for a year
at a time, with the seminary providing full salary during the period.
The first person to receive such sabbatic leave was Dr. Robinson,
who spent most of his time in Scotland lecturing at the Free Church
College of Edinburgh.

An especially noteworthy event in the life of the seminary during
1939 was the establishment of the University Center in Georgia.
This center, on a plan of cooperation developed by the educational
institutions in Toronto, Canada, had as its original members
Emory University, Agnes Scott College, the Georgia Institute of
Technology, the University of Georgia at Athens, the High
Museum of Art, and Columbia Theological Seminary. As a small in-
stitution, Columbia Seminary might not have been included but for
the influence of Dr. J. T. McCain, president of Agnes Scott College,
and vice-chairman of the Board of Directors of Columbia Seminary.
However, it was surely appropriate that the program of a divinity
school should be recognized in a university center, even as it is at
Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard, Yale, and other centers. Undoubted-
ly Columbia Seminary has received larger public recognition
because of this relationship, and it is hoped that Columbia has also
been able to contribute to the work of the center as a whole.

Early in the life of the University Center the General Education
Board of New York made a grant of $2,500,000, primarily as a
challenge for Emory University and Agnes Scott College to in-
crease their endowments. However, in the months which followed,
it also made grants for the benefit of other institutions, and one of
these, a grant of $50,000 for the establishment of a union catalog,
enabled Columbia to employ two workers under whom the catalog-
ing of the library by authors was begun. This tremendously impor-
tant contribution to the work of the institution would hardly have
been possible for a number of years had the aid not been given.
Subsequently the General Education Board made a further grant
so that this work could be completed. According to Dr. J. R.
McCain, who was himself a member of the General Education
Board, Columbia Seminary was the only theological institution
ever to receive aid from that Board. The seminary had already
begun to lend books to ministers and to educational institutions by

50

mail, but the completion of its library catalog made this a service of
far larger significance.

For several years before the seminary moved from Columbia,
Mrs. H. R. Murcheson, the wife of a faculty member, had served the
institution as dietician. She was succeeded in Decatur by a sister of
the beloved Dr. Henry H. Sweets, a Miss Sweets who, owing to ill
health, remained only one year. The position was then occupied by
Mrs. Edna Phinizy, who rendered faithful service during difficult
days for twelve years. The seminary was fortunate in 1943 to
secure the services of Mrs. J. Holmes Smith of New Orleans, a re-
cent widow who was interested in full-time service to the church.
Mrs. Smith had three daughers and two sons, Mitchell and J.
Holmes Smith, Jr., all of whom became an important part of the life
of the institution. J. Holmes Smith, Jr., was a member of the rising
class of the seminary.

In 1945 Dr. J. B. Green completed his twenty-fifth year as pro-
fessor of systematic theology, a milestone that was appropriately
recognized. Of the $100,000 being raised by the seminary at that
time, $48,468 was pledged in a campaign to honor Dr. Green, an
amount subsequently increased to $100,000. Dr. Green was asked
to continue teaching in the department of homiletics, and Dr. Felix
G. Gear was called to become professor of theology and dean of the
faculty. Dr. Gear had distinguished himself as a student at Davis
and Elkins College, Union Theological Seminary, and Princeton
Theological Seminary. His doctoral dissertation on "The Influence
of William James in the Fields of Philosophy and Psychology" was
regarded as one of the finest which had been submitted at New Col-
lege in Edinburgh up to that time. Before coming to the seminary,
he had been pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Columbia,
Mississippi, and the Second Church of Memphis, Tennessee. He
also had been professor of Bible at Southwestern University in
Memphis. In every way he was well prepared for the task at Colum-
bia, and he fully lived up to the expectations of his friends.

Dr. Gear was not pretentious in manner and did not strive for ef-
fect in his teaching, but he knew how to awaken the desire of men to
prepare themselves fully in the field of theology. This he would
sometimes do humorously, and at other times by inciting the desire
for excellence in his students. His was a common sense philosophy
that manifested itself in various ways, often by some provocative
remark with which all members of the class could not be expected
to agree. One one occasion when he suspected that a member of the
class was falling asleep, he requested this unfortunate young
gentleman to explain the doctrine of predestination for the class.

51

The reply was, "Sir, I knew that once, but I don't remember it
now." Dr. Gear stood quietly for a moment, then turned to the
blackboard, saying, "Dear God,, in 2000 years here is the only man
who has ever understood predestination, and now he has forgotten
it."
One student wrote about him:

The humanness of the professors was again
impressed on me during a theology course Dr.
Felix Gear was teaching. In class a statement
was made that irritated me. I don't remember
the questions, but I do remember my personal
reaction. I raised my hand to respond, but the
bell rang and the class was dismissed in a rush
to the door.

Following the class, I returned to the dor-
mitory and thought about what had happened.
The more I thought about it, the more irritated
I became, thinking that what had been said was
unfair. Clearly seeing the need to straighten Dr.
Gear out, I went up to his office in Campbell
Hall and knocked on his door. He warmly in-
vited me in.

When I opened the door, he was sitting with
his feet up on the desk, reading. The book
lowered. He looked at me and before I could
even speak, said, "I got you, didn't I?"

I was stunned. He had been totally aware of
my personal reaction.

We talked about two hours and he shared
some of his personal background how he had
become a Christian, his youth in West Virginia,
beginning his ministry, what he wanted for his
students in class to force us to think through
some of the assumptions on which we were bas-
ing our own understanding of theology. What
he had done in class was carefully considered
teaching technique, and he was carefully
monitoring the results this particular day.

The remark that really bound me to him was
his closing statement: "If you had not come, I
would have been disappointed. I was expecting
you. You see, that's why I was here."

52

An excellent preacher, Dr. Gear was heard in many of the pulpits
of our General Assembly. In 1964, he was elected moderator of the
General Assembly no small distinction for a man who had not
sought to elevate himself in any way.

An important incident occurred while he was moderator that
revealed much about his character. The racial situation at that time
was very tense with many white churches refusing to admit blacks
even for worship services. Such was the situation in the Second
Presbyterian Church at Memphis. Dr. Gear had once been the
pastor there and had many good friends in the congregation.

When he learned that some in the Second Church refused to ad-
mit blacks to worship, even though the General Assembly had
previously invited their participation, he took the position that the
General Assembly must not meet in any church which was not
open to all races. Thus, the previously accepted invitation of the
Second Church was declined and the Assembly moved to Montreat
for its meeting.

This decision was made in spite of many difficulties and much
pressure not to move the Assembly. Nevertheless, the moderator
and his associates held firm. It was not so planned, but perhaps
nothing else would have demonstrated that even our largest and
most influential congregations must welcome all races to worship
services. The position of the Second Church was changed, and a
year later the General Assembly met there only because its doors
were now open to all.

During the last six months of his life, Dr. Gear was practically an
invalid, and was confined to his bed most of the time. I was privi-
leged during those months to visit with him a number of times. We
talked about various subjects, some of which were not religious,
and many of which would not ordinarily have been called pious. It
was not my habit to suggest that we have prayer each time I
visited with him, although on other occasions it was the natural
thing for me to do. He always thanked me for leading in prayer, but
never made any additional comment about the matter. On my last
visit with him, sensing that the end was near, I did ask him whether
he would like me to have a prayer and he responded in the affir-
mative. Again he thanked me but said nothing more indeed, it
was difficult for him even to speak at that time. I learned after-
ward, through a nurse who was with him, that after I left the room
that day, he said, "Amen," and then, "Amen, and amen." These
may have been his last words on earth. In any event they reflected
the sincere religion of a man who had dedicated his life to preaching
and teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is not surprising that he

53

left a profound impression on countless students which will remain
with them throughout their whole ministry.

An important addition to the faculty was made in 1946 with the
election of Dr. Cecil A. Thompson as professor of evangelism with
additional responsibilities in country church work and the supervi-
sion of field work. As pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in
Valdosta, Georgia, Dr. Thompson had been widely recognized for
his evangelistic work in organizing churches and developing out-
post chapels. Although his call could only be assured originally for
a period of three years, it was understood that the assignment
would be permanent, and this proved to be the case.

Another change in the faculty came with the election of the Rev.
Hubert V. Taylor as full professor of speech and hymnology after he
had served on a part-time basis for some years. In addition to his
full-time duties as instructor in speech and in church music, Dr.
Taylor made the particularly valuable contribution of developing a
seminary choir. This was a task for which he was well prepared both
by disposition and by training, and for a number of years the choir
played an important role in Columbia's life, not only singing for
gatherings on the campus but on trips to churches in the supporting
synods. The seminary suffered a real loss when the increasing com-
plexity of its schedule made it impossible for choir members to prac-
tice regularly, leading finally to the disbanding of this group.

Inevitably the growth of the student body during the late forties
and early fifties called for an expansion of the faculty, although this
could not proceed as rapidly as desired. In 1950 the Rev. Richard T.
Gillespie, Jr., was elected professor of homiletics, thus succeeding
his father as a member of this faculty. Dr. Gillespie, an honor
graduate of the seminary in the class of 1933, had been the first
recipient of the Anna Church Whitner Fellowship. He had earned
his master's degree at the Candler School of Theology, Emory
University, by writing an admirable account of his father's life and
his contributions to Christian education in our church. Later he had
earned his Th.D. degree at Union Seminary in Richmond and had
served as pastor of the Rock Springs Church in Atlanta and I^irst
Church of Thomasville, Georgia, before serving for some years as
Candidate Secretary for the Board of World Missions.

Meanwhile Dr. J.B. Green, who had served as professor of
homiletics after his retirement as professor of systematic theology
in 1948, continued to teach Bible at the seminary for a number of
years. In 1950 his former students gave to the seminary a portrait
of Dr. Green by Miss Kate Edwards, an Atlanta artist, and this was
soon placed in the new library. With the exception of an

54

excellent portrait of Dr. Richard T. Gillespie, Sr., painted by Mrs.
Hunter Blakely, and one of Dr. Henry Alexander White given by
his children, few additions had been made to the portrait gallery of
professors begun in earlier years. The picture of Dr. Green
reawakened the zeal of the seminary for this gallery, and a number
of portraits have been added in recent years. One of the most
notable is the portrait of Mr. J. Bulow Campbell which hangs on
the western wall of the seminary reading room. I have been
singularly honored that Mrs. Campbell had my personal portrait
painted as her gift to the seminary, and that this was placed next to
the portrait of Mr. Campbell.

Also in 1950 Mrs. Julia D. Anderson retired after thirteen years
of faithful service as librarian. This service she rendered in spite of
the fact that it had not been her privilege to have professional train-
ing as a librarian.

Two very important additions to the faculty were made during
1951. Elected librarian was Mr. Harold Prince, a graduate of the
University of South Carolina and of Emory University's library
school. He was just in time to take charge of the seminary's recent-
ly cataloged and rapidly growing library and to prepare it for
removal into the larger quarters which would soon be available for
it. Although Mr. Prince did not have a theological education, he
was determined to prepare himself adequately in that field and over
the course of a few years earned his bachelor's degree with high
honors, while carrying on all his regular duties as librarian. Coin-
cidentally, at about this time Columbia Seminary invested in four
all-weather tennis courts, and for some twenty-five years Mr.
Prince had no rival on these, in spite of the fact that the student
body contained some excellent players. The tennis courts, like the
athletic field and a number of other improvements made at this
time, were financed under the G.I. Bill of Rights.

A second election in 1951 was that of Dr. Thomas H. McDill, Jr.,
who was called to meet a newly recognized and urgent need as pro-
fessor of pastoral counseling. A graduate of Erskine College and
Princeton Theological Seminary, Dr. McDill was a product of the
A.R.P. Church, in which his father was a pastor. For some years
Mr. McGill had been pastor of the First Associate Reformed
Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, and seminary students considered
him one of the most popular of all Atlanta preachers. His ability as
a pastor was already apparent, and he was called to the new posi-
tion with the understanding that he would pursue graduate studies
in the field of pastoral counseling. This he did at the University of
Chicago. Dr. McDill was also active in the development of

55

the Georgia Association for Pastoral Care of which Columbia
Seminary became a founding member. As a result of this associa-
tion, the seminary enjoyed a close relationship with Grady
Memorial Hospital in Atlanta and was in a position to provide
hospital experience and training to students as part of the degree
program.

At the meeting of the Board of Directors in 1953, Dr. Kerr an-
nounced his prospective retirement in September, after thirty-eight
years as a beloved teacher of Old Testament. However, the
seminary accepted his offer to teach through the coming year as a
personal contribution to the institution. This provided a transition
period for Dr. James H. Gailey, Jr., who was elected associate pro-
fessor of Old Testament language and literature at that time. Dr.
Gailey had received his education at Georgia Tech, Davidson Col-
lege, and Columbia Seminary before earning his doctorate at
Princeton. He had rendered useful service in the pastorate for a
number of years before coming to this position

Dr. Paul Fuhrmann was added to the department of systematic
theology and produced a number of books of genuine merit. Indeed,
had it not been for a marked French accent, which he was never
able to overcome, Dr. Fuhrmann would have been in wide demand
as a lecturer at other schools and would have been sought after as a
teacher of theology elsewhere. We like to think he would have re-
mained at Columbia as his first love, however.

There are many stories about Dr. Fuhrmann and his teaching,
some of which are undoubtedly apocryphal. He had the habit of
referring to the average seminary student as "Butchy-Chuckie."
Butchy-Chuckie, according to Dr. Fuhrmann, had many extraor-
dinary beliefs and exciting adventures. Dr. Fuhrmann called
himself the "mushroom missionary" and spent much time search-
ing in woods near the seminary for edible mushrooms. Though he
often joked about testing questionable finds on his dog or on other
people, actually he was quite at home with the mushroom world
and knew how to use this form of food to good advantage.

Some individuals in our church, particularly graduates of other
seminaries, have at times spoken in slighting terms of the training
for the ministry given at Columbia Seminary and have suggested
that it was inferior. I have never believed this to be true, even when
our faculty was very small. However, in adding to the faculty
through the years I kept in mind the necessity for drawing scholars
from various fields and of having not only Southern Presbyterians
and graduates of Columbia, but also some who came from other
countries and even from other churches. Dr. Fuhrmann was one of

56

these. Another was Dr. Ludwig Dewitz, who came to the seminary
in 1958.

Dr. Dewitz brought an extraordinary background and great gifts
as a teacher to Columbia. He had been adopted as a child and
brought up in a Christian home in Germany. When the Nazis came
to power and began their systematic persecution of Jews, he
learned of his Jewish ancestry. He suffered with other Jews some of
the early degradations imposed by the Nazis, but through the help
of some Christian friends he was able to reach England as a refugee.
His parents later joined him. He received his divinity degree from
the University of London, and after the war was ordained by the
Waldensians in Italy, thereafter serving for a number of years as a
missionary to Jews in Baltimore. He entered Johns Hopkins and
received his Ph.D. under the great scholar of the Ancient Near
East, W. F. Albright. Dr. Dewitz taught at Columbia for over twen-
ty years until his retirement in 1983. During that time he earned
both the admiration and affection of students and faculty. A gifted
linguist, he was often called upon to teach a variety of ancient
Semitic languages in Emory's graduate program.

One of Dr. Dewitz' s gifts was his ability to introduce conser-
vative students to modern biblical scholarship. Because of his deep,
genuine piety, such scholarship did not appear the threat to the
faith that many such students had at first thought.

Dr. Dewitz loved opera and delighted in introducing others to its
magic. Every Tuesday night for years was opera night at Dr.
Dewitz's. Students and their spouses came not only to enjoy the
music and Dr. Dewitz's explanation of it, but also his tea and cake.

Another international scholar invited to join the faculty in the
1960s was Dr. Ronald Wallace of Edinburgh. Dr. Wallace, a well-
known Calvin scholar, taught courses in theology and Bible. Mrs.
Wallace was herself a fine scholar and sister to the distinguished
Scottish theologians Thomas and James Torrance. The Wallaces
lived in Simons-Law and were warm friends to the many students
who came to their apartment.

Three persons who joined the faculty in the late 1950s were F.
Sidney Anderson, Shirley C. Guthrie, and Wade P. Huie. The Rev.
Sidney Anderson, who had served a term in Brazil as a missionary,
was professor of industrial church work and director of field work.
In the early sixties, as the student population grew, a need was felt
for a dean of students. Mr. Anderson served in that capacity until
he was asked to be business manager. His careful and efficient
handling of the seminary's resources earned him the respect and
gratitude of all who knew the demands of the position. During this

57

same period, he served as interim pastor of over twenty churches. He
was followed as dean of students by the Rev. Hal Lyon, who was a
thoughtful and caring pastor to students and their families.

Professor Guthrie, after receiving a Th.D. under Karl Barth, came
to Columbia from a pastorate in Texas. As professor of theology, he
was immediately popular with students, not only because of the clari-
ty and forcefulness of his theological thought, but also because of his
good humor and friendliness. His book, Christian Doctrine (1968), con-
tinues to be widely used in this country and abroad as an introduction
to theology. He has served the Presbyterian Church in many
capacities and is sought after as a teacher and theological leader.

Professor Huie was called to the Peter Marshall Chair of Homiletics
in 1957 from a pastorate in Macon. A vivid and popular preacher, Pro-
fessor Huie made homiletics one of the strongest areas in the Colum-
bia curriculum. He was repeatedly called to pulpits in various parts of
our church, but felt his duty was here. Over the years he and Mrs.
Huie have been friends to many students and student families, often
having them in their home. In recent years, they have taken a special
interest in the international mission of the church, spending one sab-
batical in Ghana and one in Korea.

By 1985 the person who had served Columbia far longer than
anyone else was Mr. Claude Clopton, the chief cook in the seminary
cafeteria. He began working at Columbia in the late thirties and in
1985 was still hard at work for the seminary. He richly deserved being
made an honorary member of the Alumni/ae Association. He is a man
of competence, faithfulness, and unfailing good cheer.

During the 1960s four graduates of Columbia were called to return
to the seminary and teach. Dr. Charles B. Cousar completed his Ph.D.
at the University of Aberdeen, Scotland, under A. B. Hunter and
returned to teach New Testament. He was particularly popular with
students and noted for the demanding nature of his classes. He served
with distinction as dean of the faculty during much of the 1970s and
published a fine commentary on Galatians in 1983.

Dr. Neely D. McCarter, after serving several years in campus
ministry, came to Columbia as a professor of Christian education. He
later went to Union Seminary and served as its dean of faculty. He is
now president of the Pacific School of Religion. Dr. Harry Beverly
taught homiletics for several years before going on to a number of
noteworthy pastorates.

The fourth Columbia graduate to return as a teacher during the
1960s was Dr. J. Will Ormond. He had a long and successful pastorate
in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and was known as an outstanding preacher.
At the seminary's call he returned to graduate school and received his

58

Ph.D. under William Barclay in Glasgow. He now serves as the J.
McDowell Richards Professor of Biblical Exposition. Dr. Ormond is
noted for his sense of humor and for some of the most memorable ser-
mons preached in the seminary chapel in recent years.

International faculty who taught during this period were professors
Elio Eynard of the Waldensian Church, James Torrance of Scotland,
Philip Hughes of England, and Barton Babbage of Australia.

The Rev. Steve Bacon served effectively as assistant to the presi-
dent and vice-president for development, and Dr. R. T. L. Liston
taught for several years as a visiting professor in New Testament.

Professor Theron Nease was called to teach pastoral theology and
counseling in 1966. He was a gifted counselor, a friend to students and
faculty, and served a local congregation as an interim pastor for
several years. His long, determined, and courageous battle with
cancer was an inspiration to all who knew him and bore witness to a
faith strengthened under the shadow of death. He died in 1984. Other
faculty members who came toward the close of my presidency and
were an important part of the seminary community were the Rev.
Richard Bass, the Rev. James Richardson, the Rev. Milton Riviere,
the Rev. Ralph Person, and Dr. Don Wardlaw.

Two men who had distinguished records at other institutions also
joined the faculty during the sixties. Dean Greer McKee, who had
served as president of the Biblical Seminary in New York, came to
teach English Bible. This he did with distinction and charm.

Dr. C. Benton Kline had been for many years professor of
philosophy at Agnes Scott College and had also served for most of
that time as the college's dean of faculty. An outstanding teacher and
fine administrator, he was persuaded to join the Columbia faculty in
1968 as professor of theology. He soon demonstrated that he was not
only an exceptionally stimulating teacher and a competent ad-
ministrator, but also a real pastor to many students. He served as
dean of the faculty and upon my retirement was elected president.
The term of his presidency encompassed a most difficult time in the
nation's history when the country was shaken by Vietnam,
Watergate, and the economic repercussions of the Arab oil embargo.
Seminary enrollments across the country dropped significantly, and
the endowments of many institutions eroded badly. The Presbyterian
Church, U.S., endured the split that resulted in the formation of the
Presbyterian Church in America. Dr. Kline not only led the seminary
safely through these troubled waters but also was largely responsible
for securing new faculty members and shaping a new curriculum to
help meet the challenges of ministry during the closing years of the
twentieth century.

59

Four

Student Life

Students of the seminary had limited financial resources in the
early days, but fortunately not much was required of them. For
years it had been the custom at Columbia, as well as at other
seminaries, to charge students no fees for tuition or room rent.
Although the students did pay a modest amount for their board,
most of them received scholarship aid to provide for that expense
also. The theory behind this was that men being prepared for
military service at West Point and Annapolis had all of their ex-
penses paid by the United States government. It was thought to be
no less appropriate that men preparing for the service of Christ in
the ministry should be provided for in like fashion.

Truthfully, most seminary students needed assistance to meet
their expenses. Few of them came from homes of more than
moderate means, and a number of them had exhausted their own
resources and incurred some indebtedness in completing a college
education before coming to the seminary. Of necessity they had to
come up with some ingenious ways of handling their limited
resources. Bonneau Dickson, class of 1933, related this story:

"One autumn night a fellow student and I had a social engage-
ment at Agnes Scott. When I stopped to pick him up, he was
almost ready hair smoothed into place, tie straightened, shoes
shined. Then, just as he got to the door, he picked up half a dozen
mothballs and dropped a couple of them in the three pockets of his
coat. Laughing, he explained, This is the only suit I own. Tonight I
have a date with a pretty girl. If we hit it off and begin dating
regularly, she's going to see this suit a lot of times. Tonight I want
her to think that I have just taken it out of storage to wear for the
first time in the fall season/ "

Actually, for some years many students had done work for the
seminary in appreciation of scholarship aid received. In 1933 that

60

practice was expanded so that every student receiving a scholar-
ship should, if possible, do an appropriate amount of work in return.
Thus, some worked as waiters in the dining room, some as
assistants in the library, and others as laborers in the physical
maintenance of the campus. As in all labor forces, someone had to
serve as foreman, and perhaps the most famous student thus
employed was L. B. Colquitt of the class of 1936. Colquitt had such
zeal that he acquired the reputation of a slave-driver and came to be
popularly known as "Pharoah." Although others eventually suc-
ceeded to that title, no one else was quite as effective at seeing that
men not only worked a certain number of hours per week but that
they were actually useful. The work done by this campus force with
the encouragement and additional supervision of Dr. Carmichael
meant much to the attractiveness of the campus in those days.
Gradually, however, the church became convinced that those who
are able to pay for their seminary training should do so.

Against some resistance the administration in 1935 began, as a
first step toward room and board charges, to require of each stu-
dent a $5 deposit for his room. This would be returned to the stu-
dent at the end of the year if there had been no damage to the room.

In 1939 it finally became possible to charge a fee for tuition and
room rent $250 per year. This step was taken after consultation
with the other seminaries and mutual agreement on the amount
charged lest any one of these schools profit at the expense of the
others.

One of the most important events of each week, at least in the
amount of thought and discussion aroused, was "student
preaching." In the early days in Decatur, the student body was
small enough for each student to be required to preach a sermon an-
nually before the faculty and student body. The service was usually
held on Tuesday evening in the seminary chapel, with two sermons
being delivered during the same service. The entire faculty was
present to discuss the sermons after the benediction, which natural-
ly detracted in some degree from the spirit of worship desired, but
which was nevertheless an important part of the training of those
who were to preach the gospel. Although the spirit of the faculty
was kindly, it was nonetheless felt that the criticism should be
honest, and this fact sometimes made the occasion painful for the
preachers. Indeed, some of them threatened to withdraw from the
seminary after what they considered unjust criticisms, and on at
least one occasion such a withdrawal did take place. Dr. Robinson
once said that faculty criticism was the only honest criticism most
ministers ever heard except in the second year of their married life.

61

During the first year, he said, the wives were too much in love to
criticize their husbands, and after the second year they gave up
hope.

A major part of the discussion was carried by Dr. J. B. Green,
professor of homiletics, who could be quite blunt in his remarks.
One one occasion, when the group had moved downstairs from the
chapel to a classroom for discussion, Dr. Green began by saying,
"We had poor preaching tonight." One of the preachers on that oc-
casion told me afterwards that the criticism almost killed him, but
that it was one of the best things that ever happened to him in mak-
ing him realize the importance of proper preparation for the pulpit.
On another occasion Dr. Green observed pithily, "There were three
problems with this sermon: first, it was read; second, it was read
poorly; third, it wasn't worth reading."

Criticism included almost all matters connected with the prepara-
tion and delivery of the sermons. It involved the wardrobe of the
preachers, matters of grammar and syntax, the use of gestures, the
choice of subjects, the exegesis of the Scripture to be used, the title
of the sermon, the use of illustrations, and the logical structure of
the discourse. Dr. E. D. Kerr concerned himself most often with
literary and grammatical questions, and was famous for the
number of notes he would make on a scrap of paper not much larger
than a postage stamp. I, as president of the seminary, had perhaps
too much to say about pulpit costume, and in those days felt it par-
ticularly desirable that black ties should be worn and brightly col-
ored socks avoided. The wearing of pulpit robes had at that time
not become customary in the Presbyterian Church, U.S., or some of
these questions might have been avoided. Indeed, the first robe
worn by a student preacher an event which took place in 1933
caused quite a sensation on the campus.

Points of theology were likely to involve the attention of Dr.
William C. Robinson, but were not avoided by other faculty
members. Dr. J. B. Green, who was famous for his use of allitera-
tion in the points of his own sermons, had much to say about ser-
mon structure as well as content, and his remarks were almost
always pertinent even if sometimes painful.

Sometimes the sermon titles were chosen with a view to sug-
gesting the sensational a practice not altogether unknown in
newspaper advertisements of sermon subjects today. On one occa-
sion the subject chosen by a student was "The Double-Barreled
Gospel." At the conclusion of that sermon Dr. Green said, "What a
subject: the double-barreled gospel. Unfortunately, neither barrel
was loaded."

62

One of the most famous student sermons was delivered by a
member of the junior class in 1934. His subject was David and
Goliath. He spoke of the five stones which David carried with him
for use in his sling, and following the example of Dr. Green he had
an alliterative title for each of these objects. The sermon was
characterized by vivid imagination, and portions of it were acted
out by the preacher.

According to this young man, it was the custom of the Philistines
not only to follow their champion onto the field, but to be seated
like spectators at some modern-day athletic event. Among these
spectators was Goliath's sweetheart, who came each day to cheer
her hero on. The preacher, acting the part of Goliath as he strolled
out to mock the armies of Israel, turned and waved to this young
lady as he went, saying, "Goodby, sweetie-pie. I'll see you this
evening. This is just duck soup for me."

The sermon aroused considerable comment by the faculty. Dr.
Green, noting that it took forty-five minutes to deliver, said we
were so busy wondering what was going to happen next that we
didn't have time to think about the length of the sermon. In
general, however, the comments were not favorable.

The student in question was not discouraged; in fact, he con-
tinued throughout the years to preach on David and Goliath. While
serving as a chaplain during World War II he wrote me on one occa-
sion that as he preached, the sands of North Africa and the hills of
Italy had often been "red with the gore of Goliath." In the same let-
ter he said that Army life had many times made him "long for the
fleshpots of Mrs. Phinizy," the lady who had been dietician at the
seminary during his student days and who, like most persons in
charge of student meals, was the object of many complaints. The
preacher now says that as a result of long practice, he has short-
ened his sermon and it now takes only fifteen minutes for him to
slay Goliath.

If "David and Goliath" was the most famous sermon preached
by a student, the best known preacher to graduate from Columbia
was Peter Marshall. Born in Scotland, and finding it impossible to
continue higher education there because of limited financial means,
he immigrated to the United States at an early age. He so greatly
impressed the members of a Bible class in the First Presbyterian
Church of Birmingham, Alabama, where he worked in the steel
mills, that they encouraged him to prepare for the ministry and
opened the way for him to do so. It was through a scholarship pro-
vided by that class that he came to Columbia Seminary in the fall of
1929, and that his promise as a minister really became apparent.

63

He was an excellent student, although like many others he rebelled
against the necessity of studying Hebrew and complained frequent-
ly about this. He was also something of a prankster; one of his ex-
ploits involved dropping a firecracker down the stairwell near Dr.
Gillespie's apartment. Nevertheless, his record here was so im-
pressive that the faculty recommended him for the regular B.D.
degree, although he had not received a liberal arts education.

After graduating, young Marshall became pastor of the
Presbyterian Church at Covington, Georgia, about thirty miles east
of Decatur, and served there for a little more than two years. He
was then called to Atlanta's Westminster Presbyterian Church,
which grew steadily under his ministry and attracted capacity
audiences each week. He was widely in demand as a speaker, and
President William P. Jacobs of Presbyterian College declared that
Peter Marshall would fill up Madison Square Garden if he were to
preach there. In any event he was called as pastor of the New York
Avenue Presbyterian Church in Washington, D.C., and there
became a nationally known figure as a preacher both in his own and
other pulpits. Elected as chaplain of the United States Senate, he
came to be widely known and quoted for his brief but meaningful
invocations. Handsome in appearance, magnetic in personality, and
with a very appealing brogue, Dr. Marshall had a touch of the poet
about him. He was a master of words, who had the ability to pre-
sent truth in a succinct and striking way. His death of a heart at-
tack in early manhood brought shock and sorrow to individuals
throughout this country. Fortunately, he had married a young lady
of superior gifts who was able to tell the story of his life in compel-
ling form, thus prolonging and magnifying his influence.

The decade of the 1940s was a period of important growth in
almost all aspects of the seminary's life. In 1944 the United States
Navy established a unit of its V-12 program for the training of
students at Columbia Seminary, but happily owing to the termina-
tion of hostilities the next year, only a few of these students were
admitted. The institution received a bronze plaque from the Navy
in recognition of the service which it had undertaken to render.

Although the seminary has always opened its doors to
candidates of other denominations, the number so received has
never been large. The entering class of 1944 admitted five can-
didates for ministry in the Southern Baptist Church, an above
average number for a class. Columbia's first two women students,
Katherine Wright Philips and Latrelle Duncan, were admitted in
1943 as candidates for degrees in the mission training course; these
were followed regularly by others in later years. Likewise, with the

64

unanimous consent of the faculty, the seminary had admitted its
first black students in the 1940s. Significant as this step was, only
a few black students enrolled during the next decade.

J. Will Ormond was a student at the seminary from 1940 to 1943.
In 1983 he discovered a box of old letters which he had written to
his family in Sumter County, Alabama, during his student days. A
few excerpts from those letters give a glimpse of seminary life in
the early 1940s. For example, the dollar was considerably bigger
then than now:

The bank hasn't sent me a statement, so I
don't know whether I have the $100 added to
my account. Besides, I have $45.45 in the bank,
which will more than pay the next bill. However,
if the $100 has been added, that will be more
than ample for the rest of the year.

The quote is dated February, 1941. With three months remaining
in the academic year, $145.45 was more than enough.

My roommate is practically placed for the sum-
mer. He is going to get $150 and board for the
summer . . . Next Sunday I will preach at Smyrna.
Dixie Philips preaches out there two times a
month, but since he will be away next weekend, he
has asked me to preach for him. It is several miles
from Atlanta, but I can ride the streetcar all the
way out there and back . . . The people at Smyrna
gave me a $10 bill today. I am going to Rome next
Sunday and preach for John Leith. He is going
home. I'll preach twice, both times in the morning.
I'll pay my own way and get $15. These little in-
comes help out tremendously.

Parties on the campus were on a lavish scale in the 1940s accord-
ing to this observation:

We are going to have a big Christmas party
here on Friday night. It should be a tremendous
affair since it is going to cost each of us a total
of $1.50.

On the subject of speech training:

65

We had to make speeches in speech class the
other day telling how to do something so that
we would use gestures. I told about how to
make molasses. Ever since, some of the boys
have been calling me "Alabama dessert." One
boy who used to work in a funeral home told
how to embalm a body.

In the 1940s "summer field work" was quite different from its
1980s counterpart, "supervised ministry." No specific instructions;
no supervision. Dr. Ormond recalls, "During the summer after my
first year at Columbia I was the sole pastor of four churches, one in
the metropolis of Lake Waccamaw, North Carolina; the others were
scattered through the countryside Elkton, Ashwood, and White
Plains. Contrary to the biblical exhortation not to go from house to
house, I moved almost every week and was passed from family to
family. Although the churches were a total of about forty miles
apart, I had no car. I was a circuit rider without a horse." The
young seminarian's letters recount vivid memories from that
summer . . .

The first Sunday at Lake Waccamaw:

All the people I met were very cordial, though
one or two old ladies looked at me rather cross-
eyed and put me on the spot with some embar-
rassing questions. One immediately demanded
to know if I knew the Shorter Catechism, and
nearly fainted when I told her that I didn't. The
church service started with about eight present;
however, before it was over there were probably
twenty-five or thirty. The old lady in question
dozed a few times, although I looked straight at
her when I quoted the Catechism, which I did
twice.

The first Sunday at Ashwood and White Plains:
Yesterday I went to Ashwood and White
Plains. Both these churches are right out in the
country. We had about thirty-five at Ashwood,
a good many of them young people and children.
We got to White Plains about 2:45. There were
about forty there. The church is old and very
country. Birds had been roosting on the

66

preacher's chair and the Bible. I didn't mind
that so much, but when one of the babies
started yelling at the top of his voice, I didn't
like that. While we were singing, it didn't mat-
ter much; he just added to the volume. But
when I started preaching, he started yelling. He
drowned me out completely. However, I was not
going to be outdone by a mere baby, so I just
got a little louder. But he wasn't going to be out-
done by an upstart preacher, so he got louder. I
just kind of repeated the same thing in different
words, hoping finally to last him out . . . The
Ashwood folks gave me $7.75 yesterday, and
White Plains $3.31. The latter congregation
looks 'po.'

A typical Sunday of "field work 11

Yesterday I preached three times, made one
talk, went to five services (SS and CE being two
of them), sang nineteen hymns, led seventeen
prayers, read Scripture six times and traveled
about forty miles. At White Plains for the first
time the babies did not cry. The one that does
most of the yelling was absent.

As mentioned earlier, a highly significant event of the academic
year in the 1940s was the sermon which every student preached
each year before the entire faculty and student body. One February
12, 1942, J. Davison Philips and J. Will Ormond preached their
middler faculty sermon in the same service. The two preachers
dressed exactly alike in blue serge suits and black ties with white
stripes. Prof. Ormond expressed in his letters both anxiety and
satisfaction about the experience:

The biggest thing on my mind this week is
my faculty sermon, which comes off Thursday
night. I am expecting to be severely criticized
because the faculty has been pretty tough late-
ly. Dr. Green is worse than any of them. He
seldom finds anything good to say about them
. . . This bunch of preachers is worse about not
liking long sermons than are ordinary
congregations.

67

After the deed was done:

You are doubtless wondering how I came out
with my faculty sermon. Well, all in all, I think
it was a success. I was somewhat scared at first,
but after I got into it I was not scared any more.
To tell the truth, I just plain had a good time. It
probably sounds funny to say that one had a
good time giving his faculty sermon, but I did.
Here I had dreaded the thing, and when I got
toward the end, I found myself feeling sort of
sorry that it was over. Last year when I fin-
ished, I felt that I had failed completely and had
made an utter flop. This time I knew I had not
set the world on fire, but I knew it wasn't a flop
... In the criticism the faculty was very kind . . .
Dr. Richards seemed pleased but even more sur-
prised. This experience was encouraging since I
haven't been feeling very encouraged lately.
This makes me think that I have a chance yet of
amounting to a little something.

And so he did. As stated in the previous chapter, Dr. Ormond
became an outstanding preacher and has been a valuable member
of the faculty for 19 years.

In 1951 students organized the first Student Conference on
World Missions. After a modest beginning at the Presbyterian
campground at Smyrna, conference attendance increased yearly,
causing the location to be moved to the Rock Eagle Camp near
Eatonton, Georgia. Students organized the event on their own in-
itiative and without faculty supervision or leadership, although full
cooperation was given by the faculty. The Rock Eagle campground
belongs to the state of Georgia but may be rented by other groups,
and this was found to be the most suitable place for the Missions
Conference. At its peak more than 1,400 students attended the
three-day conference. Eventually, though, this movement dimin-
ished and was discontinued for no longer meeting the needs of the
church. In fact, we had come into a period when the church as a
whole was sending out very few new missionaries; consequently, an
appeal for missionary service seemed somewhat out of place.

Fortunately, as always, seminary life had its brighter moments
filled with laughter and good humor. One such occasion came when
a student, who probably found nothing very funny in the situation

68

originally, fell into an open manhole which had been left unguard-
ed near the seminary campus. Two of our students were returning
from an evening expedition to Decatur when one of them, Curran
Willis, had the misfortune of falling into the manhole an
accident which seemed all the more amusing later because of
Curran' s rather large size and the fact that no one would have
thought the accident possible. Nevertheless, Curran fell into this
manhole, which was not lighted in any way, and called for help. As
his companion tried unsuccessfully to lift him out, a passerby,
who mistook what was happening, called out to him to stop strik-
ing that man when he was down. Finally, Dr. Felix B. Gear, who
lived nearby, came with others to lift Curran out of the manhole.
He emerged only slightly bruised, his dignity shaken but still in-
tact. He was only partially compensated by the city of Decatur for
the experience he had suffered, but fortunately he was not dis-
posed to pursue the matter further in the courts. As previously in-
dicated, Curran might have had some difficulty convincing
anyone that he had fallen into such a unique situation.

Another incident was caused by a student's good intentions
which went somewhat awry. A visiting evangelist, who advertised
widely that he was in town for a healing mission, was holding
services in what had formerly been a denominational church but
which belonged to no particular group at the time.

One of our students, Mr. Carroll Stegall, was making a special
study of the healing ministries with a view to determining their
authenticity. With this purpose in mind, he visited one of this
evangelist's healing services and became very much interested in
a lame man sitting beside him seeking healing. The state of this
man enlisted Carroll's sympathy, and he wanted to assist him in
finding help. Consequently he began trying to get the lame man
up to the platform where the evangelist was standing. His efforts
finally led to his being detained by members of the healing group,
who had him carried to the police station and arrested on a charge
of disturbing public worship. When Carroll discovered he did not
have enough money for the fine, he tried to call me, but I was out
of the city. Eventually Carroll reached Dr. Cartledge to ask his
assistance in getting out of jail. This Dr. Cartledge did, although
it was decidedly inconvenient to make such a trip in the middle of
the night. It goes without saying that Carroll's situation and the
experience of Dr. Cartledge in arranging bail for him aroused
considerable amusement among the other members of the student
body.

There are countless other stories that could be told about

69

students and campus life. Every class had its own distinct per-
sonality, its own memorable individuals, its own contribution to
make to the seminary and, later, to the church. May I also add how
much these students enriched my own life in my thirty-nine years
as their president.

70

Five

Controversies

An essential unity prevailed in the faculty of Columbia Seminary
throughout these years insofar as loyalty to the Reformed faith and
to the Presbyterian Church, U.S., was concerned. At the same time,
there were occasional marked differences in interpretation and em-
phasis. It was a tribute to the essentially Christian character of the
persons involved that for more than half a century there was no real
schism in the faculty.

One incident which had potentially serious consequences oc-
curred at the end of 1935. The formula which was then prescribed in
the seminary's Plan of Government for subscription by professors
at their inauguration read as follows:

In the presence of God and these witnesses I
do solemnly subscribe the Confession of Faith,
catechisms and other standards of government,
discipline, and worship of the Presbyterian
Church in the United States as a just summary
of the doctrine contained in the Bible, and pro-
mise and engage not to teach, directly or in-
directly, any doctrine contrary to the Scriptures
as interpreted in those standards while I con-
tinue a professor in this seminary.

With only slight variation this formula had been in effect at the
seminary since its early years, and is essentially the same as that
used at Princeton Theological Seminary and at Union Theological
Seminary in Richmond.

As Dr. Patrick H. Carmichael approached the time of his in-
auguration as professor of Bible and Christian education, he found
himself troubled by the phrase "as interpreted in those standards,"

71

since this appeared to him to elevate the authority of the standards
above that of Scripture. This had not been the interpretation of
those who had previously taken the obligation, but, on recommen-
dation of a committee appointed to confer with Dr. Carmichael
about the matter, it was decided that this phrase might be omitted
when the vow was taken that evening, with Dr. J. Sprole Lyons,
chairman of the Board, presiding. This action brought strong op-
position from Dr. Robinson, who addressed a protest to the Board
suggesting that it had acted ultra vires in thus amending a vow
which had been put into effect by the vote of the controlling
synods. In a brief postscript Dr. J. B. Green agreed with this view.

Inevitably some strain developed between Dr. Carmichael and
his colleagues as well as between them and the Board of Directors.
Indeed, it would appear that there was merit to the protest and
that the Board had acted beyond its authority in the matter.
However, at a meeting of the Executive Committee held a few
weeks later the directors, after thanking Dr. Robinson for his con-
cern, assured him that in the action which they had taken they were
"not unmindful of the issues involved and that they did not act
without taking what they considered due care to safeguard every
principle at stake." They also asserted that communications of this
nature ought to come to the Board only through the faculty, if
possible, and that if for any reason this is not practicable, the presi-
dent of the seminary at least should be consulted before presenta-
tion of the paper. With this statement, the subject was dropped
without further discussion. A question remains, however, as to
whether some alteration should be made in the ancient formula.

A more difficult situation concerned whether to amend the
Westminster Confession of Faith and Catechisms, the existing
standards of the church. An ad interim committee on this subject
had been appointed by the General Assembly of 1935, with Dr.
Henry H. Sweets as chairman, the professors of theology of the
four seminaries associated with the church as members, and Dr. D.
Clay Lilly as the only additional member. This committee was con-
tinued by the Assemblies of 1936 and 1937 and its report submit-
ted to the Assembly of 1938 for approval and for submission to the
vote of the presbyteries. Meanwhile, the proposals for changes
recommended by the committee became the subject of general
discussion and debate in church periodicals and in various groups.

Although he was not chairman of the committee, it fell to Dr.
J. B. Green, professor of systematic theology at Columbia, to do
most of the writing on the subject, and finally to present it for ac-
tion by the General Assembly meeting in Montreat in 1939. Dr.

72

William C. Robinson, however, strongly opposed these amend-
ments and indeed the making of any change in the present stan-
dards. For an entire year these professors, living side by side on the
campus and teaching across the hallway from one another, debated
these issues in the journals of the church, with opinion divided as to
who was more persuasive. Apparently very few converts to either
view were made.

At about this time, a game similar to blindman's bluff was played
at a student party. Two students were blindfolded, placed on hands
and knees confronting one another, and given folded newspapers
with which to hit each other as forcibly as possible. They could take
any evasive action as long as they at least maintained contact by a
handclasp. The result was much wild swinging in the air, with an
occasional telling blow being landed. Dr. John S. Foster, a new
member of the faculty, remarked that the combatants reminded
him greatly of Dr. Green and Dr. Robinson swinging at one another
through the pages of the Christian Observer.

When the Assembly met at M on treat, I and two members of the
faculty, Dr. William C. Robinson and Dr. E. D. Kerr, were commis-
sioners. Dr. Green was also present as representative of the ad in-
terim committee and played the leading role in presenting recom-
mendations for change. Despite a favorable vote by three-fourths of
the presbyteries, a number of these changes were rejected, prin-
cipally through the persuasiveness of Dr. Robinson. Dr. Green,
however, carried the day on a number of points so that no clear-cut
victor emerged in the controversy. Meanwhile, there were also
debates about the work of the Committee on Social and Moral
Welfare, of which I was a member, with Dr. Kerr speaking in sup-
port of its work while Dr. Robinson opposed it. The situation was
obviously not without its perils.

It was the custom at that time for each seminary to have, during
the course of the Assembly, a breakfast or dinner for its alumni who
were attending the meeting. These could not be held simultaneous-
ly owing to a lack of dining room space, and a schedule was worked
out in advance. The representative of another seminary, whose din-
ner had been scheduled for the first day, remarked to me that he
was glad they were able to get together before real debating began
and while everyone was feeling good. On the other hand,
Columbia's dinner came on the last evening after the debates just
described. In opening that meeting I quoted the gentleman above,
then said I was glad our meeting came at a time when we could
demonstrate that members of the faculty of Columbia Seminary
could differ with one another widely and ably, but still live together

73

in love and work together for the good of the seminary and of the
church. The remark was greeted with applause in which the pro-
fessors concerned jointed most heartily.

If the faculty was able to maintain a spirit of Christian unity
throughout these important debates and disagreements, the same,
unfortunately, could not always be said of students. This was
especially true of the period 1950-1970, a time of great social and
cultural changes in the nation and of tensions within the church.

At Columbia Seminary these tensions found their primary ex-
pression in the suspicions of certain students about the orthodoxy
of their professors. Much as Senator Joseph McCarthy sought dur-
ing the early years of this period to "root out un-American
activity," some students sought to discover "unorthodox" beliefs
among Columbia faculty members. The fact that they failed did not
greatly diminish the divisiveness of their efforts.

The zeal of these students led them to take careful notes of all
statements made by professors in teaching their courses, and to
keep these for presentation to the Board of Directors or to other
persons of authority in the church. A number of these students
went to see laymen whom they knew to be of a theological persua-
sion similar to their own and requested them to take steps to bring
Columbia Seminary into accord with what they conceived to be its
mission. On one occasion, for example, a group of ten laymen
representing the five synods connected with the seminary re-
quested the privilege of appearing before the Board of Directors
and making known to them their concern about what they believed
to be heretical teaching.

They believed that the teachers should not only hold the infallible
rule of faith and practice, but that these persons should hold to the
total infaUibility of Scripture and to the total verbal inerrancy of
Scripture as written. This view went beyond what even so conser-
vative a scholar as Dr. W. M McPheeters had considered as essen-
tial. Dr. McPheeters told me on one occasion prior to this time that
when he became a professor at Columbia, he was very much afraid
that the directors would ask him whether he believed in the total
verbal inspiration of Scripture. He said that he later came to hold
that view, but that he did not hold it at the time he accepted a posi-
tion to teach. In other words, he did not at that time hold that a
strictly literal verbal interpretation of Scripture was necessary.

This was my own position and one which I repeatedly set before
the directors of the seminary and also before several of the control-
ling synods in which the question of inspiration came up for discus-
sion. I described my own position by saying that I believed in the

74

total infallibility of Scripture as a guide to faith and to morals,
which I understand to be the teaching of our standards, but that I
did not think this necessarily meant that every individual word of
Scripture was to be taken literally as it stands. This I believe to be
the correct view of Scripture. It is a view which I characterized by
saying that I believed in the doctrinal inerrancy of Scripture insofar
as all matters of faith and practice are concerned. Apparently this
view was satisfactory not only to the majority of the directors of
the seminary, but to the major groups of the synods from which
they came. This is further indicated by the fact that the directors,
after hearing from the laymen who came before them, voted their
full confidence in the faculty of the seminary. This same confidence
was manifested in the supporting synods to which I made a full
report concerning the view of Scripture which was being taught
here.

Unfortunately, no view which fell short of asserting the complete
verbal inspiration of Scripture was satisfactory to the several
groups agitating the matter. They were particularly influenced by
ministers who had left the Northern Presbyterian Church following
the Modernist-Fundamentalist debate in that denomination. Final-
ly, several groups felt that they could no longer serve in the
Presbyterian Church, U.S., as it then existed and took the step of
forming a new church known as the Presbyterian Church in
America. Those who withdrew, it must be said, were also much
disturbed over the General Assembly's support of civil rights for
blacks. The PCA has congregations in all the former synods of the
church. As of 1984 the new denomination had a membership of
149,548, most of whom came from former congregations of the
PCUS.

Race was one of the dominant questions facing the church during
this period. No question has had more influence over the South or
over the church in the South. As a son of the Old South, I confess
that my conscience in racial matters was slow in developing. I and
members of the faculty simply accepted segregation in the early
years. Granted, we were opposed to injustice within it, but it did
not occur to us that we could get away from segregation. At one
time I felt that trying to abolish segregation would likely result in
bloodshed, and in certain parts of the South it did. Yet we began to
change and to see, step by step, the injustice of segregation itself.

One step came in the early 1940s when Gene Talmadge, then
governor of Georgia, stated that the poorest white man was better
than the best black. That stirred me up considerably and as retiring
moderator of Atlanta Presbytery, I preached a sermon on

75

' 'Brothers in Black." Today it seems a rather straightforward ap-
peal for simple justice and the recognition of black men as our
brothers, but at that time it aroused much excitement. The sermon
was printed and distributed in a number of churches. In at least one
congregation, an irate member gathered all the copies and burned
them. Others reacted differently. An incident that happened to me
as a result of this sermon told much about the times.

It was my custom to take the Pullman overnight on various trips
for the seminary. Shortly after I had preached this sermon, the
black porter on the Pullman I was riding said to me, "I believe you
are the gentleman who made that nice speech recently, aren't you?"
I was at first perplexed but then realized that the Atlanta Constitu-
tion had given perhaps three paragraphs on a back page to an ac-
count of my remarks. Hence I said, "Yes, I suppose I am. How did
you know that?" "Well," he said, "I heard the people who brought
you to the Pullman car in Charlotte say, 'Goodbye, Dr. Richards.'
When I went home, my mother had this article cut out of the paper
and I said, 'I believe I know that gentleman. I think he rides on my
car sometimes.' " Then he added, "Everything you said was true,
but it seems like nobody will take our part." The fact that anyone
would publicly advocate giving justice to the blacks had been suffi-
ciently important for his mother to clip the article and save it for
him. "It seems like nobody will take our part," he had said, but he
seemed to find tremendous encouragement in the fact that someone
had at least spoken on the subject. My attitude could never be the
same after that.

Another step in recognizing the injustice of segregation itself
came shortly after this. For several years black students had been
enrolled at Columbia. Under the influence of some leaders in the
Georgia legislature, however, a law had been passed that any
educational institution which taught blacks and whites in the same
classroom would lose the privilege of being exempt from taxation
and consequently might suffer financially. The faculty discussed
this matter carefully and decided that the legislation was probably
unconstitutional, and that in any event we were going to continue
our practice. I should like to say concerning the racial situation that
our faculty was unanimous and quite willing to take risks in order
to move toward justice. It is significant that although some state
officials knew what we were doing, no one actually sought to en-
force the law against the teaching of both races in the same
classroom. After 1954, that would obviously have been contrary to
decisions made by the Supreme Court, but we could not be sure of
this fact in advance.

76

It was with some caution that we admitted blacks to the regular
social life of the seminary at a time when a large part of our constit-
uency, and some members of our Board of Directors, would have
opposed that policy, but actually no real difficulty was en-
countered. Columbia Seminary is now proud to have taken the
leadership which it did in dealing with the racial question here in
Georgia, and in the fact that real integration was accomplished here
without a dissenting voice being raised. This does not mean that all
members of our Board of Directors would have approved of our ac-
tions, and certainly many in our constituency would have strongly
disagreed.

Racial tension flared again in 1957. The fall of that year was a
time of increasing bitterness and dissension in Georgia over the
1954 Supreme Court ruling on integration of public schools. Those
in high political circles were talking of closing the public schools
rather than see them desegregated. Those who spoke out for justice
were subject to intimidation and harassment. In light of this a
small group of ministers met to discuss the crisis. I was appointed
to produce a statement for publication. The statement, which came
to be known as the Atlanta Ministers' Manifesto, was signed by
eighty Atlanta pastors and printed on the front page of the Atlanta
Journal-Constitution on Sunday, November 3, 1957. The manifesto
called for the preservation of free speech, for obedience to the law of
the land, for the maintenance of the public school system, for an
end to racial hate, for a new spirit of charity and good will, and
finally, for strengthening communications between responsible
leaders of both races. The manifesto received wide attention in the
national press, and while some in Georgia angrily rejected it, others
expressed appreciation for its tone and message. It evidently
helped the crisis of that year to pass and gave others encourage-
ment to speak out.

There were, of course, other controversies that troubled the
seminary from time to time during these years. But they were
generally internal and passed without leaving a permanent mark on
the life of Columbia.

Throughout these controversies Columbia reflected both its close
ties with the southern society which it was called to serve and its
struggle to be faithful to the gospel which it was called to proclaim.

77

Six

The Campus

When Columbia Seminary was moved to Decatur in 1927, the
city limits had been extended so that the institution could be in-
cluded within these boundaries and municipal improvements pro-
vided for it. Consequently, the setting of the institution was almost
rural. The campus itself consisted of some fifty-seven acres of
beautifully wooded and rolling terrain which was watered by a
number of springs and three small streams. Only the eastern edge
of the campus had been cleared for the erection of buildings, and
comparatively little landscaping had been done. To the south of the
campus lay open countryside consisting mostly of pasture land, of
fields under cultivation, and of other wooded areas with only an oc-
casional farm home. To the north of the seminary were some fields
in which cotton and corn were being grown between the campus
and the Georgia Railroad, which traversed the city limits about six
miles from the seminary.

Agnes Scott College was situated close to the railroad a little
more than a mile from the seminary. When a campaign to bring the
seminary to Atlanta was conducted among Presbyterians in 1925,
Miss Hopkins, the dean of Agnes Scott and a loyal Presbyterian,
made a subscription but said that she would make it twice as large
if they would put the seminary twice as far from the college. Her vi-
sion was prophetic since for years many students of the seminary
were regular visitors to the Agnes Scott campus, and quite a
number of them were fortunate enough to win the hearts and hands
of Agnes Scott graduates.

The two seminary buildings were beautiful and well-planned
structures. However, the southern end of Campbell Hall remained a
plain and unadorned brick wall, left unfinished because of the ar-
chitect's plan for a Gothic tower to be erected there. At that end
was a concrete platform with an iron railing around it to provide an

78

entrance; underneath was a similar entrance to the kitchen.
Because of the heavy expense involved, no tower was ever erected,
and that end of the building was not completed until 1950. Its un-
finished appearance did not add to the attractiveness of the
building.

Funds had also been lacking for the paving of driveways and
walks on the campus. There was a narrow approach with a turn-
around at each end of Campbell Hall, and another narrow driveway
leading to the rear of Simons-Law Hall. However, since automobile
traffic at the time was minimal, there was no parking problem. A
limited base of crushed rock had been used for the main driveways,
and cinders, provided through the generosity of the Georgia
Railway, were sometimes available for the patching of holes and the
maintenance of driveways at faculty homes, four of which had been
erected at the time of the seminary's move.

Public transportation in Atlanta at that time was provided by
streetcars, but the nearest of these was more than half a mile from
the campus. Since very few students owned automobiles at that
time, most of them walked the distance to and from the carline
when going to Atlanta. Fortunately, an early contract made with
the city of Decatur provided that the fare charged would always be
five cents per trip. Consequently, for years students paid for trips
to and from Decatur at that price, even though individuals who
boarded or left the car beyond the western limits of the city paid
ten cents to travel a shorter distance.

The main Decatur line turned north just opposite the end of what
had been known as Oak Street, with its title changed to Columbia
Drive after the institution was established on its new campus. A
large ice manufacturing and distributing facility was located at
that point, and visitors seeking directions to the campus were ad-
vised to get off the streetcar at the ice plant, cross the railway and
College Avenue, and walk directly south on Columbia Drive. Some
irreverent spirits suggested that getting off at the ice plant was
very appropriate for anyone who wanted to reach a Presbyterian
theological seminary.

The rural setting of the campus provided interesting and unfore-
seen results on certain occasions. Coveys of quail were sometimes
found between the seminary and Agnes Scott, and rabbits, squir-
rels, and other forms of wildlife were plentiful. The campus was
unlighted except for one or two dim lights near the buildings, and
on at least one occasion in the early years students returning from
Decatur found themselves involved in an unfortunate encounter
with several polecats that had apparently been visiting near

79

Campbell Hall. Unhappy as this situation was from the viewpoint
of the students concerned, who were required to divest themselves
of clothing before entering the dormitory, it aroused much amuse-
ment and pleasure from their fellow students.

One advantage derived from the small size of the student body in
these early years was the close contact which existed between
faculty members and students. Indeed, life on the campus was in
many ways like that of a family, with both the advantages and the
disadvantages which followed. Students were welcomed in faculty
homes, while faculty members and their wives usually attended the
social gatherings held in the parlor of Campbell Hall (now the board
room). The young ladies invited were mostly from Agnes Scott,
although a number also came from the community at large. Very
few students at that time were married.

With most of the campus still heavily forested, not a great deal of
space was available for sports. Two sand-clay tennis courts had
been prepared at the southwest corner of the seminary; adjacent to
them was a small wooden structure in which a mat had been provid-
ed for wrestlers. The largest space available as a playing field was a
vacant lot lying several hundred feet north of Campbell Hall and
located between three seminary homes and the home occupied by
the president. Although the area was insufficient for satisfactory
competition, students used it for softball games and for touch foot-
ball. The president's home was only about two hundred feet from
home plate, and it was reported among the students that I had of-
fered five dollars a large prize in those days to the man who
would first drive a ball from homeplate against any window on the
second floor of my residence. The story was of course apocryphal,
but fortunately no student was ever able to claim the coveted objec-
tive. Less fortunate was my wife's cherished flowerbed which lay
between the playing field and our home. Fly balls were continually
being hit into that area of left field, and student athletes in pursuit
did not hesitate to crash through a small intervening hedge and to
land in the midst of the flowers. It required no little Christian grace
for the lady of the house to remain silent on these occasions, but
this she did.

An appropriate space nearer to the main buildings was found and
marked off as a volleyball court. Here games were frequently
played, often with Dr. Gutzke, Dr. Cartledge, and myself par-
ticipating. Faculty members also played tennis with the students,
and Dr. Cartledge, who was a first-rate golfer, led a student con-
tingent occasionally to one of the nearby golf courses.

After Dr. Carmichael came to be professor of Bible and Christian

80

education in the fall of 1937, he played a lead role in working to im-
prove the campus. He and several students terraced and planted
the hillside, thus stopping the erosion which was already marring
the northern slope of the campus. Because of his efforts, the cam-
pus developed a beautiful lawn on the hillside and on the red clay
surface of the playing field.

Dr. Carmichael also undertook the development of a lake several
acres in size on the western edge of the campus. Here three streams
came together supplying abundant water. This was the era of
various forms of employment provided by agencies of the New
Deal, and he was able to secure funds through the Civil Works Ad-
ministration for the employment of students and others to clear
this portion of the campus. A concrete dam was built at the
southwest corner just adjoining Kirk Road, the waters were im-
pounded, and the lake area was inundated. At the time it seemed
that the campus would be enriched by this beautiful spot and by
the recreational opportunities thus made available. Unfortunately,
we had not fully considered the dangerous consequences which
might also follow. As soon as the lake was formed, boys of the area,
large and small, began to flock to it and to consider it just what
they needed for their own pleasure. Flimsy rafts were constructed
and floated on the surface at almost all hours, frequently overload-
ed with small boys. It was impossible for the seminary to mount an
adequate watch on the lake and to provide lifeguards at all hours.
Consequently, to the great disappointment of the entire faculty and
student body, as well as of Dr. Carmichael and his helpers, it proved
necessary to drain this body of water and demolish a part of the
dam. Some of that concrete structure remains today as a sad com-
mentary on the fact that men's best-laid plans "gaeng aft a-gley."

There had long been a recognized need for a separate building to
house the seminary's library. In keeping with the prevailing ar-
chitecture of the campus, plans were drawn for a Gothic structure.
The main floor would contain the reference library, reading room,
and offices; the two lower floors, the bookstacks with study carrels
and other offices; and the top half floor, periodicals and files. The
building was completed early in 1953. On May 1, 1953, in accor-
dance with carefully worked out plans, the entire collection of forty
thousand books was moved by hand along a line which extended
from the second floor of Campbell Hall down two flights of stairs
across an open space, and up a flight of steps leading into the new
building. All members of the faculty and student body participated
in this operation, which began soon after breakfast and was com-
pleted by 5:00 P.M. It was a joyous occasion for all concerned, and

81

the library opened as usual on the following morning with books all
in place.

The building was actually dedicated on May 19, 1953, with the
address for the occasion being delivered by Dr. E. D. Kerr, a great
lover of books who found particular satisfaction in this occasion.
The building was appropriately named in honor of Mr. Campbell
and bore the following inscription:

The John Bulow Campbell Library

erected in grateful tribute to a noble Christian gentleman

John Bulow Campbell

1870-1940

businessman philanthropist patriot

for thirty-seven years a ruling elder

of the Central Presbyterian Church, Atlanta, Georgia

A director and benefactor of Columbia Theological Seminary,

without whose aid the present work of this institution

would not have been possible

A faithful servant of Christ

"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course,

I have kept the faith"

Many gifts had made this possible, and a memorial tablet opposite
the name of Mr. Campbell in the foyer of the building bore the
names of 60 individuals and some 118 churches who had con-
tributed $1000 or more to the building. In addition to this, many of
the carrels bore plates identifying them as memorials to loved ones
or friends who had participated in making the structure possible.
A memorial plate placed in the reading room by members of the
First Presbyterian Church of Atlanta bore the following inscription
as a tribute to Dr. Lyons:

This reading room was given by the congregation

of

The First Presbyterian Church, Atlanta, Georgia

in memory of

Rev. J. Sprole Lyons, D.D., L.L.D.

18611942

For twenty-two years the beloved pastor of that church

great expository preacher

ecclesiastical statesman

moderator of the General Assembly

of the Presbyterian Church, U.S., 1913

82

A leader of the movement which brought

Columbia Seminary to Georgia

A director of Columbia Seminary 19261942

Chairman of the Board of Directors 19331941

"He being dead yet speaketh"

The seminary now for the first time possessed a building worthy
of the importance which a library must hold in the life of any
academic institution. From that time on, the library has continued
to grow in size and to function in the service of the students, pro-
fessors, and members of the church at large.

As mentioned earlier, the idea of erecting a central Gothic tower
to complete Campbell Hall had been abandoned because of the cost
involved. Campbell Hall was finally completed by the addition of a
new wing which was skillfully designed to blend with the remainder
of the building in completing a harmonious whole. Mr. Campbell's
memorial to his mother was thus completed and its usefulness to
the institution enhanced.

A further addition to the beauty of the campus was made in 1952
as Dr. and Mrs. Frank Alfred Mathis provided a memorial gateway
in honor of their parents, Rev. and Mrs. Methame Beecher Mathis
and Rev. John Washington Wolf oik, a minister and a ruling elder of
the Presbyterian Church. This attractive memorial which graces
the eastern approach to the seminary has become a well-loved sym-
bol of the institution.

One of the dreams of Dr. Gillespie and others was the establish-
ment of a furlough home for missionaries on the new campus in
Decatur. Indeed, Mrs. Fanny J. Bryan, a faithful friend of Colum-
bia, South Carolina, days, had given a couple of small gifts for that
purpose. Amid the pressure of other needs this dream had been put
aside for some years, but began to be mentioned again in the early
1940s when Mrs. J. Emily Nard, president of the Synodical of
Georgia, approached the Board of Directors. In 1947 Mrs. E. L.
Secrest, who was then president of the Georgia Synodical, arranged
a meeting to be held in the president's office to discuss this idea. It
met with universal approval, a plan to secure the necessary funds
was proposed, and within little more than a year over $13,000 had
been collected for this purpose.

The first unit of Mission Haven was completed in 1950 at a cost
of about $25,000; a second unit was completed a short time later.
Four apartments were built in 1954, and through a birthday gift
from the Women of the Church four other apartments were provid-
ed in 1956. Subsequent gifts made possible the purchase of four

83

homes adjacent to the campus, and these have seldom been vacant
more than a few weeks at a time. The Women of the Church of
Atlanta Presbytery have been particularly active in providing for
the welfare and comfort of missionary families. A building to house
a "clothes closet' ' was erected some years ago, and this has resulted
in an outpouring of gifts, often of high quality, which have been
used to meet the needs of missionary families, visitors from mission
fields, and also a large number of students' families, who were
served after other needs had been met. Mission Haven is entirely
maintained by gifts from the Women of the Church, who have then-
own charter and have leased the space on the campus for this work.

As Decatur expanded to the southeast, a need arose for a new
Presbyterian church to be organized in the area. In January, 1947,
such a church sponsored by the Decatur and Oakhurst
Presbyterian Churches, Atlanta Presbytery, and Columbia
Theological Seminary was organized in the seminary chapel with
other facilities of the institution being used for Sunday school
classes. Plans called for the new church to be adjacent to the
seminary, and the institution gave six and one-half acres of its cam-
pus to the Columbia Presbyterian congregation. The church as
organized was to be completely independent of the seminary,
although it was hoped and expected that the relationship between
the two would always be close. After five years the Columbia
Church moved from Campbell Hall to its first building with more
than three hundred members and with the Rev. William J.
Hazelwood as its pastor. Eventually the seminary contributed
$100,000 to the cost of building the new sanctuary and entered into
a rental contract with the Columbia Church for a period of ten years
to aid in the retirement of the indebtedness. The congregation has
been most cooperative, and all of the public exercises of the
seminary which require a large sanctuary have been conducted in
the Columbia Presbyterian Church. This fact has made it un-
necessary for the seminary to erect a large chapel of its own, and at
the same time has brought many benefits to the Columbia Church.

In 1949 Columbia Seminary joined with various churches and
educational institutions in the establishment of the Protestant
Radio Center. Funds were provided for the erection of a building on
the campus of Emory University, and a program of much
significance has been carried on there through the years. The
primary purpose of the center is the production of broadcasts on an
ecumenical basis for the preaching of the gospel, and the results
have been substantial. Columbia's participation in the work of the
Protestant Radio and Television Center, as it was later renamed,

84

has also benefited its students through their access to special in-
struction and experience under the guidance of experts.

Only a limited amount of landscaping had been possible in the
earlier years of the seminary. Through the cooperation of Mr. Scott
Candler, the Commissioner of Roads and Revenues for DeKalb
County, land-moving equipment owned by the county was used to
cut down unsightly banks and grade other sections of the campus.
This work was followed by landscaping under the direction of Mr.
William C. Pauley; walks and driveways were paved, a brick terrace
was laid to the east of Campbell Hall, lawns were planted and
reseeded, and shrubbery was planted. This work resulted in one of
the most beautiful campuses anywhere. During this period the
seminary also acquired an adequate athletic field for the first time.
Under the terms of the G.I. Bill of Rights, Columbia Seminary col-
lected $50 per quarter for each veteran in school even through this
covered no particular fees of the institution. The seminary adopted
the policy of dividing this amount with the veterans, thereby pro-
viding them an allotment for purchasing books and other needs,
and of retaining the balance to make needed improvements. One of
the most obvious was an athletic field. This need was met by the
clearing, grading, and seeding of a large area in the central part of
the campus. Through the years this athletic field has not only
served to meet the needs of the students, but has been made
available for use by young people in the community for Little
League baseball contests and for soccer games. Meanwhile, what
was formerly used as an athletic field has become an attractive
lawn and an addition to the beauty of the campus.

The late 1950s and early 1960s were a time of much activity on
the seminary campus. At that time the seminary badly needed an
adequate dining room, and architects were employed to prepare
plans for this structure. As we considered the matter further,
however, it was decided that it would be economical to rear a sec-
ond structure, a dormitory, which was also desperately needed and
which, along with the dining hall, could be paid for out of the
seminary's Five Million Dollar Campaign. The institution thus ac-
quired two handsome new buildings at a lower cost than if the
buildings had been erected at different times. The major dining
hall, which was part of the Student Center, was designed after
similar halls at Oxford University was Gothic in nature. Although
some thought that type of building an extravagance, others among
us felt that a hall designed to give dignity to daily life would be
worth what it cost. The Student Center when completed contained
not only the main dining hall but two smaller dining halls and a

85

parlor on the first floor. A number of faculty offices and classrooms
were provided on the second floor with space for other purposes
available on the third floor.

The dormitory which came to be known as Florida Hall was in-
tended primarily for married couples and contained forty suites of
two rooms with a connecting bath for each. The fourth floor was
less ambitious, having rooms only for single students and a com-
munal bathroom. The buildings, like those previously erected on
the campus, were of Gothic design and constructed of brick and In-
diana limestone. They have already proved their worth in the daily
life and activities of the seminary. The total cost of these buildings
was about $1,500,000, which left approximately $3,500,000 for the
endowment of scholarships and the payment of salaries for addi-
tional faculty members.

Other funds were secured through special gifts, while a second
campaign was planned at the suggestion of Mr. Laurence Favrot,
the able and dedicated layman mentioned in Chapter 2. He helped
to start a process which did much to relieve the financial needs of
the institution. At the time the seminary administration changed in
1971, the campus and its five major buildings were valued at ap-
proximately $4,000,000. This meant that the seminary's endow-
ment then stood at about $7,000,000 an amount which would
have seemed impossible less than forty years earlier, but which now
placed the seminary on a reasonable basis from which to go
forward.

By 1970 life at the seminary was changing. Most of our students
were married and in need of the kind of apartment which the
seminary furnished in Florida Hall in fact, this need was only
partially met when we had added Florida Hall to the twenty apart-
ments built for families with children. One result of this was that
our students no longer lived in the same close relationship as in
former years and did not know one another as intimately. The total
enrollment at the seminary had for some years stood at something
over 200 students per year, and a few still had to find places for
themselves outside of seminary facilities. The spirit of these men
and their wives remained high, however, and there seemed to be a
real need for all of the persons whom the seminary could accom-
modate. At that time a few single students still resided in what was
known as "The Monastery" on the third floor of Campbell Hall and
in rooms on the fourth floor of Florida Hall. The capacity of the
seminary would soon be further taxed by the addition of a larger
number of women students and by persons who came to work on a
Doctor of Ministry degree, but this challenge still lay in the future.

86

Seven

Resignation

My tenure as president of Columbia Theological Seminary had
begun on July 1, 1932. By the early 1960s it seemed that by any or-
dinary standards I had not only fulfilled any responsibility which I
had to this institution but had overstayed my leave. Mrs. Richards
and I had reached this conclusion in personal conversation, but I
had not discussed it with any member of the faculty. I was quite
mindful of the danger of staying too long and for years had been
concerned about this possibility. In light of this, I had on several
occasions suggested to the Board of Directors that it ought to be
seeking my successor. Finally, in my report of 1967, 1 presented my
formal resignation as president of the seminary and suggested that
the Board appoint a committee promptly to find my successor.

As a matter of record, I thought at the time that I was definitely
terminating my relationship to Columbia Seminary within a few
months. For that reason I am including in this chapter a copy of the
letter of resignation which I addressed to the Board of Directors. In
accordance with my custom of many years, I placed a copy of my
report to the Board in the hands of each faculty member. I had an-
ticipated that my decision to resign would be accepted with relief
by members of the faculty. Much to my surprise, however, I found
that this was not the case, and the faculty on its own volition ad-
dressed a letter to the Board of Directors asking that I be kept in
office for certain reasons which it deemed important. Because then-
letter reflects not only on the issue of my resignation but also on
the issues facing the seminary at that time, a copy of it is also in-
cluded in this chapter. While I neither expected nor desired this ac-
tion by the faculty, I was certainly gratified by it and decided to
stay in office for three years longer and to serve the seminary as
best I could during this time. Perhaps it was a matter of pride, but I
also insisted on being relieved at the end of thirty-nine years, rather

87

than remaining for the forty years after which retirement would
have become compulsory.

LETTER TO THE BOARD

In 1965 I pointed out to the Board of Direc-
tors that I had been president of Columbia
Theological Seminary at that time for 33 years,
and suggested that it might be wise for the
Board to seek my successor. In a very gracious
response to that offer, the Board declined to ap-
point a committee to study the matter, stating
its "earnest hope that he (J.M. Richards) may
be spared to serve in this important position un-
til the time of compulsory retirement at age 70."

On November 6, 1967, I became 65 years of
age. Were I to act in accordance with the sug-
gestion mentioned above, I would continue as
president until the fall of 1972. After careful and
mature deliberation about the matter, however,
I am convinced that this is not wise. These are
days of rapid change in the world of theological
education. Many important decisions both as to
policy and in reference to faculty personnel will
have to be made during the next several years.
It seems to me to be a matter of utmost impor-
tance that these decisions should be made not
by one who is nearing retirement, but rather by
a leader who will have the prospect of living
with his decisions and, hopefully, of carrying to
successful fruition the policies which are
adopted. In the light of this conviction, I am
asking that the Board of Directors this meeting
elect a committee for the nomination of a new
president. It would be my hope that this com-
mittee can report not later than the November
1968 meeting of the Board, and that the new
president can be elected at that time. Certainly
the election could be held sooner if the commit-
tee is ready to report and deems it wise to do so.
If the president elected in November desires
time for special study or for visitation of other

88

theological seminaries, I would be willing to con-
tinue as president until July of 1969, so that he
could be freed for this time of preparation. Upon
being elected in November, however, the new
president should assume primary responsibility
for the nomination of new faculty members and
for the development of plans and policies look-
ing to the future. If the new president needs no
special preparation and is ready to assume
responsibility promptly after his election, I shall
be prepared to step aside at any time and to
place the direction of this institution in his
hands.

LETTER FROM THE FACULTY
COLUMBIA THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY

May 2, 1968

Dear President Richards:

We, the undersigned members of your facul-
ty, wish to plead most strongly against your in-
tention to resign as our president.

We realize that personal considerations could
cause you to wish to be relieved of the burdens
of this office. And while none of us want to im-
pose a continuing strain on you that would rob
you of health and happiness in these next
several years, we must express to you and to the
Board of Directors that we do not believe that
your resignation would be for the good of the
seminary or in its best interests.

We do agree that the present time is one of
rapid change in the world and in theological
education, and we recognize that many impor-
tant decisions face Columbia Seminary. It is for
these very reasons we are convinced that your
continuing as president in the days ahead could

89

be the most valuable service to Columbia
Seminary of your long and dedicated career.

Lest this letter be perceived merely as a
tribute to your distinguished service heretofore,
we would cite specific programs and activities
that demand your continuing leadership.

In the development of the S.T.D. program
with Candler and I.T.C., there will undoubtedly
be some difficult times. There was a struggle
within the committee that drafted the proposal.
The issues involved in this struggle were not
resolved in the editing of the degree proposal.
Implementation of the degree program in light
of these tensions will involve difficult and im-
portant decisions. Your leadership as president
will guarantee that the best interests of Colum-
bia are served through this joint program in the
crucial developmental years immediately ahead.

The development of the Urban Training
Organization is, as you have noted, a step by
the church in the "radical reordering of its
priorities ,, as it faces the challenge of an increas-
ingly urban society. We are grateful for your in-
itiative and leadership in enabling Columbia to
be part of this emerging change. We recognize
that there is much fear and uncertainty and
some hostility both in the church and in our
society toward any effort to engage creatively
with the processes of change. We feel that your
continuing leadership as president will ensure
that our participation in such efforts as Urban
Training will be stabilized by sober maturity.
We doubt that ever before has a respected and
recognized voice in the church such as yours
been so crucial in helping to dissipate the fear,
uncertainty and perhaps even the hostility occa-
sioned by these times.

With regard to the decisions that lie ahead in
the matter of faculty personnel, we are especial-
ly concerned that you remain as our president.
We recognize that these decisions are never
easy ones to make and that they sometimes in-
volve differing points of view within the church

90

and among ourselves as a seminary community.
We are convinced that the best decisions can be
reached only when a mature relationship of
mutual trust and respect exists between presi-
dent and faculty. Since this relationship already
exists so wholesomely with you, we cannot
ourselves in the best interests of the seminary
and its future willingly relinquish it. You have
created the atmosphere and conditions within
which the most responsible decisions can be
made. You, more than anyone else, could best
nourish continuing confidence within ourselves
as faculty and within the whole church by re-
maining as the chief and most influential factor
in the decision-making processes.

You mention in your report to the Board the
developing pressures for the regrouping of the
theological schools in the Atlanta area. We
realize these pressures must be faced and that
stong arguments will undoubtedly be offered
for all possibilities and alternatives. We are con-
vinced that this issue can be faced best and
determined most wisely with your leadership.

These items do not exhaust the reasons we
could give for you to stay with us, for basic to
them all is our confidence in you and our deep
affection for you.

We are giving the Board of Directors a copy
of this letter and urge them to join with us in
asking you to stay.

Shirley C. Guthrie, Jr. P.D. Miller

Ludwig R. Dewitz S.A. Cartledge

A. Milton Riviere Ronald S. Wallace

Charles B. Cousar F.B. Gear

Richard Bass Paul T. Fuhrmann

Steve A. Bacon Harold B. Prince

O.H. Lyon J. Will Ormond

F.S. Anderson, Jr. Theron S. Nease

James T. Richardson Hubert V. Taylor

Dean G. McKee Don M. Wardlaw

Thomas H. McDill

91

Insofar as my relationship to Columbia Theological Seminary is
concerned, anything further I have to say would be in the nature of
a postscript. Work which had been undertaken very reluctantly and
only out of a sense of duty in 1932 had now occupied my best
endeavors for thirty-nine years of my ministry. I rejoice that the
providence of God led me to stay at Columbia because in so doing, I
have had the opportunity to know and to serve countless in-
dividuals both in the context of church and of education. I had
thought I was leaving the pastorate when I came to the office of
seminary president, but on the contrary I was granted the privilege
of being a pastor to generations of students and of watching with
pride the service they have rendered to the church. It has been a joy
to be associated with the students of the seminary, with its alumni,
and with its faculty and Board of Directors. They have all enriched
my life immeasurably, and I thank God for them.

My prayer and my belief now is that Columbia Theological
Seminary will continue to move forward, offering itself unreserved-
ly in ministry to our denomination and region, and to the church at
large of our Lord Jesus Christ.

92

Postscript

by
T. Erskine Clarke

At the conclusion of the 1970-71 academic year, J. McDowell
Richards retired as president of Columbia Theological Seminary. The
seminary which he had come to serve during the troubled days of the
Depression had grown and prospered and greatly expanded its ser-
vice to the church. The changes which had taken place during these
years could be seen in several areas of its life.

First and perhaps most obvious were the changes in the campus
itself. The two buildings and five faculty homes of 1932 had grown to
eight buildings and sixteen faculty homes in 1971. In addition, Mis-
sion Haven had been built and the athletic field developed. The
grounds of the campus, stark and rather bare in 1932 with cinder
drives and eroded hillsides, had been turned by 1971 into a place of
genuine beauty. Particularly in the springtime, the campus would
come alive with color: forsythia and flowering crabapples, azaleas
and dogwoods, redbuds, and wisteria. Long, grassy lawns dotted
with ancient oaks and hickories delighted not only the seminary
community but also the larger community of Decatur, which now ex-
tended out and around the seminary. (Where once fields of cotton
and corn had been planted in Decatur, residential areas flourished,
and a dairy on Columbia Drive had been replaced by a shopping
mall.) The work of improving the grounds had involved many people
and careful plans, but no one had encouraged the landscaping of the
campus more than Mrs. Richards. She loved flowers and had spent
much time working in her flower beds at the president's house. Dur-
ing the 1960s she gave special attention to the campus and kept a
rose garden near the Student Center and Florida Hall.

The growth of the campus and its increased beauty reflected, of
course, the growth of the student body and faculty. A student body
of 46 and a faculty of 9 had grown by the 1960s to a student body of

93

over 200 and a faculty of 26. And the growth had been not only in
numbers but also in diversity. In 1932 the student body had been all
white, all male, and almost all southern. By the late 1960s there were
women students and black students, increased numbers of interna-
tionals, and students from other parts of the country. The faculty's
growth also reflected this increasing diversity. While in 1971 the
faculty still had no women or blacks, it came from much broader
educational and geographical backgrounds than had the faculty in
1932.

All of these clearly visible changes indicated important
developments that had taken place in the seminary's relationship to
the church and society. While still firmly committed to the Reformed
tradition, the seminary no longer reflected the defensive stand that
had characterized so much of its history during the early years of the
century. It had been in many ways a defender of the old order, i.e.,
the order of the Old South, of a strict, seventeenth-century or-
thodoxy that gave indirect but powerful support to what many
called a Southern Way of Life. That way of life had been dominated
by rural, paternalistic values, a highly rationalistic theology, and
legalistic morality. The ethos of the seminary had been shaped to a
large degree by its defense of that old order and Southern Way of
Life. And while the seminary had been struggling, sometimes
brilliantly, to defend it, a New South had been emerging with new
opportunities and challenges for the seminary and the church. The
move from Columbia to Atlanta had been in many regards a recogni-
tion of this changing situation. One of the great achievements of J.
McDowell Richards was his gracious leadership of the seminary out
of that defensive stance into a broader and more open vision of the
church in its ministry and mission to the world. With board leaders
such as J. Bulow Campbell and P.D. Miller, he helped to guide the
seminary through the deep waters of transition from the Old South
to the New.

When Dr. Richards retired in 1971, he and Mrs. Richards left the
president's home on Inman Drive and moved to a home they had
bought on Kirk Road not far from the seminary. At the request of
the Board of Directors, Dr. Richards kept an office at the seminary
and continued to work in financial campaigns and relationships with
alumni. Mrs. Richards continued her many activities, especially her
work with flowers she soon had turned the yard on Kirk Road into
a show place with her prized day lilies. Their three children James
McDowell, Jr., Mary Makemie, and Charles Malone had grown up
during the years the family lived on Inman. By the time Dr. and
Mrs. Richards moved to Kirk Road, their grandchildren often came

94

to visit and sometimes play in the seminary village. Sunday dinners
would be a special family time during these years.

During the late 1970s and early 1980s, much of Dr. Richards'
time was increasingly devoted to the efforts for reunion of the
Northern and Southern Presbyterian Churches. There were letters
to be written and trips to presbyteries and synods and personal
conversations with former Columbia students and their
parishioners. The time had come, he would say over and over again,
for reunion to take place, for the old divisions to be healed, and for
the church to move ahead with its mission in a troubled world.
Many were fearful of what reunion would mean to the southern
church which had nurtured them and which they loved so much. No
person gave them greater reassurance than Dr. Richards, for he
was a son of the Old South who knew its troubles and dreams. But
more importantly, he was a child and servant of the church, a per-
son whose integrity and vision had helped to lead the church during
difficult days in the past and whose voice could be trusted on this
momentous question. When the vote came, its passage reflected in
a large measure the work of Dr. Richards.

In 1983 Dr. Richards' health began to decline, making it increas-
ingly difficult for him and Mrs. Richards to live at home on Kirk
Road. After much thought and discussion with their children, they
decided to move to the Presbyterian Home in Summerville, South
Carolina. They had many friends there, and the director, the Rev.
Robert Tapp, was a former student and long-time friend. In the fall
of 1983, they made the move. Their new home was not far from
where Jane Leighton McDowell, Dr. Richards' mother, had grown
up to marry the son of one of her father's seminary classmates from
Liberty HILL So Dr. and Mrs. Richards left Decatur fifty-one years
after they had first arrived to occupy the president's home. They
left behind them the unmistakable marks of their life and work and
carried with them the deep affection and gratitude of the church
they had served so well.

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