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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. 




:  



% 




1,1; * 


Rum 

  


jj 





 

1 1 






* 


- J i 




w ' 1 yl * 




iij 




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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