A Tale of Three Cities
by R. Douglas Brackenridge
Professor Emeritus, Department of Religion, Trinity University
Our sign proudly proclaims, “Trinity University, Founded 1869.” Yet as you
walk around the campus you quickly discover that there is nothing really old about it. We have no “old main,” no moss covered buildings, no Civil War
statues. Trinity's oldest structures date back no farther than the early 1950s.
Our only ancient landmarks are a cornerstone on a pedestal and some bewhiskered
senior professors who were born decades before construction commenced on
Trinity Hill.[i]
There is a reason for this anomaly. Over the past one hundred thirty-two
years Trinity has occupied three different Texas settings--Tehuacana, in Limestone County (1869-1902), Waxahachie in Ellis County (1902-1942), and San Antonio in Bexar County from 1942 to the present. And if we count the former Woodlawn Campus where
Trinity resided from 1942-52, the university has been identified with four
campuses in three different locations. Few, if any institutions of higher
learning in the United States today can match our mobility.
With apologies to Dickens, let's go back to 1869: "It was the best of
times, it was the worst of times." On the national scene, the first
intercontinental railroad reached completion at Promontory Point, Utah. Ulysses S. Grant became the 18th president of the United States, and collegians played their first football game with Rutgers defeating Princeton 6-4.[ii] Closer to home, Texas was in a chaotic condition following the Civil War. Land
values plummeted and cotton, the basic money crop, declined more than 50% from
its pre-war value.[iii]
Despite these unfavorable conditions, a group of Cumberland
Presbyterians decided to establish Trinity University. Actually, the term
"university" is misleading. In reality, Trinity functioned initially
as a combination primary, grammar, and secondary school, with relatively few
collegiate students. On September 23, 1869, five faculty members gathered in a
renovated private home to greet seven students who showed up the first day.
This created an admirable but unprofitable 1.4-1 student-teacher ratio. Despite
this inauspicious start, Trinity ended its first academic year on a positive
note with approximately one hundred students enrolled. The Board of Trustees
reported that not one case of discipline had come before the faculty and that
“the morality of the Students was of high grace.”[iv]
But Trinity's history actually goes back to three pre-Civil War Colleges founded by Cumberland Presbyterians who came to Texas during the 1830s and 40s
from Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama and Missouri. The newcomers were products of
frontier revivals that featured emotional sermons and spirit-filled
conversions. At the same time, they were Calvinists who prized education as a
means of elevating society and promoting religion. Like Calvin, they believed
that “the tongue without the mind is displeasing to God.”[v]
Three Cumberland schools--Larissa College, LaGrange Collegiate Institute,
and Chapel Hill College were the forerunners of Trinity University.[vi] Like most peer institutions in Texas, they relied almost exclusively on tuition
to cover expenses and did not survive the devastating economic impact of the
Civil War. After hostilities ceased, they were unable to resume operations.
But Cumberland Presbyterians persisted in their quest for a denominational
university. Employing a technique used successfully by other institutions, they
conducted a bidding war among Texas communities to decide where the new
university would be located. To merit consideration, a community had to make a
minimum offer of $25,000 in cash and property. Finalists in the contest were
Dallas, Waxahachie, Round Rock, and Tehuacana. After visiting each site and
“after earnestly, calmly, and prayerfully considering the claims of the
different points,” a committee of Cumberland ministers and laymen settled on
the small village of Tehuacana, about sixty miles north east of Waco.[vii]
Tehuacana’s offer of $30,000 not only was more generous than its
competitors, but it had another quality that appealed to nineteenth century
educators—isolation. According to Trinity's first catalogue, Tehuacana
offered a healthy and sheltered environment "free from the temptations of
vice abounding in the various towns of the country." To reinforce this
claim, later catalogs assured readers that Tehuacana was "positively free from all temptation and vice."[viii] An hour's buggy ride from the nearest station, Tehuacana business district consisted
solely of a grocery store and a general merchandise establishment that doubled
as the post office.[ix]
Tuition was inexpensive and rules were strict. Parents who enrolled their
sons or daughters in Trinity could anticipate spending a grand total of $222.00
for a four-year college course. Room and board in local homes ranged from
$10.00 to $12.00 a month.[x] Regarding discipline, the first catalogue was explicit. “Students must avoid
all immoral conduct. Expulsion is the only penalty for drunkenness. No gambling
apparatus of any kind, or deadly weapons will be permitted. Young Ladies and
Gentlemen must not allow anything to interfere with their legitimate
duties as students.”[xi] As the years progressed, the rules of conduct became more specific. Most
detested and resisted by students was Rule #9. "Students of the opposite
sex are strictly forbidden all communication with each other of any kind, and
those coming from a distance are considered under this rule from time of their
arrival at the University until they leave." If I had the time, I could
tell you some fascinating stories about how student evaded this rule, but you
can use your imagination. College students were inventive even back in 1869!
Although religion played a prominent role in a Trinity education, the ethos
was broadly Christian and no students were excluded because of religious
affiliation. But religious enthusiasm did not discourage critical thinking.
Trinity faculty emphasized the importance of questioning and scientific
inquiry. Before the advent of social clubs and inter-collegiate athletics,
Trinity students channeled their energies into a number of campus literary
societies. Members took pride in decorating their meeting rooms where they
socialized apart from faculty oversight. Societies debated such topics as,
“Resolved that the liquor traffic is the greatest evil of our country”
(decision negative), "Resolved that women should be admitted to the whole
work of the ministry in the same manner as men” (decision affirmative), and “Resolved,
that the evolution theory of man’s origin from some lower animal is highly
probable” (decision affirmative). Graduates from the Tehuacana era attained
positions of prominence and leadership in the fields of ministry, education,
business, law, and politics.[xii]
Despite academic progress, Trinity operated on the edge of financial
collapse throughout the Tehuacana era. Faculty salaries were constantly in
arrears, the master building plan remained an unfulfilled dream, and the
hoped-for endowment never materialized. As the nineteenth century drew to a
close, denominational leaders decided to move the institution to a larger urban
center where financial and cultural resources were more readily available.
After commencement ceremonies in June 1902, Trinity loaded up its belongings on
a horse-drawn cart and made the seventy-five mile trip to Waxahachie, a county
seat, railroad hub, and cotton-farming center in Ellis County. The town was
also noted for its saloons and wide-open night life, but before the university
arrived, local officials banned the sale of intoxicating liquors and later
succeeded in making the entire county dry.
But Trinity trustees were still wary of the dangers of urban life. They
selected a campus site safely removed from Waxahachie’s business district.
Transportation to the town center was by a mule car line that provided little
comfort and even less reliability. Passengers frequently had to disembark and
pull, push, or lift the derailed car onto its tracks. When the weather was dry,
the new campus swirled with dust. When it rained, the landscape was a sea of
mud.[xiii]
By strengthening its faculty, broadening its curriculum, and expanding its
physical plant, Trinity by the 1920s had moved from the brink of closure to a
position of stability. With an attractive campus and an enthusiastic student
body, its future prospects looked bright. In 1925 Trinity was accredited by the
Southern Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools, an accomplishment that
greatly enhanced the university's reputation.[xiv]
But the stock market crash of 1929 and the ensuing Depression of the
1930s dashed any hopes for a bright future in Waxahachie. Enrollment sharply
declined, indebtedness mounted, and payrolls went unmet. In 1936 the Southern
Association placed Trinity on probation, putting the institution’s future in
jeopardy. Despite heroic efforts of trustees, faculty, and staff, conditions
failed to improve. Once again Trinity faced an unpleasant alternative--relocate
or close down.[xv]
After unsuccessful negotiations with several other entities, Trinity
officials received an offer to come to San Antonio. On December 8, 1941, the
day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the San Antonio Chamber of Commerce
Trinity brokered a deal that merged Trinity with the University of San Antonio,
a struggling Methodist institution with a campus on the near west side of town.
This was a defining moment for Trinity University. Had the university remained
in Waxahachie, it likely would have been forced to close. At best, it might
have survived as a small, struggling, unaccredited institution. In San Antonio
Trinity would flourish and cultivate a new identity.[xvi]
For a decade, the Woodlawn campus was home to Trinity. Although the physical
plant was in poor condition, it bought Trinity precious time so that it could
become established in the San Antonio community. In the meantime, Trinity
functioned by using temporary military barracks and Quonset huts for student
housing and classroom facilities. The fragile administration and classroom
building rocked back and forth every time classes changed and students poured
out into the hallways. Along with the science building, it would later be
condemned as unsafe for occupancy.
Despite these problems, Trinity increased its enrollment, stabilized its
financial situation, regained accreditation, and raised funds to construct a
modern plant on the city's near north-side. The character of the campus also
radically changed from what it had been in pre-war Waxahachie. From a
predominantly residential campus, Trinity became primarily a commuter school.
By the end of the school year in 1945 enrollment reached a total of 1,500,
composed largely of returning veterans and other San Antonio area residents who
constituted the most diverse student body in the institution’s history.
Enrollment would continue to grow, reaching more than 2,000 with a branch
campus in the city center. With diversity and increased enrollment came changes
in the religious atmosphere.
About this time two people appeared on the Trinity scene who would play
pivotal roles in leading the university into the modern era. Bruce Thomas
arrived on campus in the fall of 1947 as Academic Dean. His strong academic
background proved to be an invaluable asset to the university during the
transitional years in San Antonio. James W. Laurie, a Presbyterian clergyman
from Buffalo, New York, accepted the presidency in 1951. A dynamic and
articulate administrator, Laurie brought enthusiasm, energy, and vision to the
campus. Together Laurie and Thomas orchestrated what would later be called “The
miracle of Trinity Hill.” Thomas Hall and Laurie Auditorium perpetuate their
presence on campus. [xvii]
But Trinity had one more moving day, May 13, 1952, in its historic
pilgrimage to this present location. Just two days before final examinations
were scheduled to begin, students, faculty, and community volunteers, including
professional movers, transferred university property to the present campus, a
project that took only five hours to complete. On moving day the new campus consisted
of a dormitory with accommodations for sixty residents, a classroom building
that lacked a heating system, a barren library building, an uncompleted student
union, and a woman's dormitory under construction.
Initially the women lived in the men's dormitory and the men were housed
nearby in a large home and in an adjacent motor court. Because there were no
facilities for meals, students were bussed three times a day to a restaurant on
Austin Highway, a situation that students accepted with a remarkable degree
of tolerance. Looking back on the move a decade later, trustee C. W. Miller
aptly said, "Trinity was born in a crisis, and frankly it has been in a
crisis ever since."[xviii]
During the Laurie-Thomas era what can rightly be called "the new
Trinity" became a reality. The Skyline campus, now so familiar to San Antonio residents, emerged from the brush and cactus-covered former quarry site. By
the time of Laurie's retirement in 1970, thirty major buildings had been
erected, including the distinctive tower that quickly became a campus landmark.
During the same twenty-year period, the annual budget soared to 10.5 million
dollars and the endowment increased from less than one million to forty-two
million dollars, giving Trinity adequate operating funds for the first time in
its one hundred-year history.
But the changes were not just in buildings and income. By the 1960s a new
breed of faculty was emerging. Most had Ph.D.s and brought energy and diversity
to the academic routine. From what had historically been open enrollment,
Trinity began to impose higher entrance standards. CEEB scores rose more than
100 points and approximately sixty percent of applications came from students
who ranked in the upper ten percent of graduating high school seniors. Encouraged
by the Presbyterian Church, Trinity in 1968 modified its charter to eliminate
legal ties with the denomination. At the same time, it entered into a covenant
agreement with the Synod of Texas that affirmed historical connections and
pledged mutual support, an agreement that continues today.[xix]
But Trinity was not a finished product. As it began its second century in
1970, much remained to be done. Fortunately, during the last three decades of
this century Trinity had leaders who were equal to the task. We are indebted to
the leadership of Duncan Wimpress, and Bruce Thomas during the early 1970s, to
Ronald Calgaard, whose twenty-year presidency (1978-1998) was the longest in
Trinity history, and to the incumbent president, John R. Brazil. As the result
of their labors and a supportive university community, Trinity has today
attained recognition as one of the outstanding undergraduate institutions in
the United States. Undergirded by a substantial endowment, an attractive
campus, quality faculty, and selective enrollment, Trinity is a truly
residential campus where students have the opportunity to develop close
relationships with their peers and with their professors.
Although geography has played a significant role in the evolution of our
educational institution, in the final analysis, it has been people--trustees,
administrators, faculty, staff, students, alumni, benefactors and friends--who
have shaped the institution's history. Perhaps the most useful frame of
reference for Trinity University today is time, not space. Our future as an
educational institution will be determined by creativity rather than by
geography, by renewal rather than by removal, and by people rather than by
property. Effective and innovative classroom teaching and daily interaction
with students have been hallmarks of this university throughout its history.
During research for this presentation, I found two letters from the
Tehuacana era written by Trinity students that capture the essence of the
Trinity tradition. The first, penned by Winstead Bone to his father in 1880,
describes his interaction with a Trinity faculty member. Bone related how one
professor, Robert Pitman, helped him practice for an upcoming oration.
"After I prepared my piece, "Professor Pitman would go to the chapel
with me 2 or 3 times a week for several weeks and give instructions as to the
delivery. Such kindness I am not used to. On another occasion, we practiced in
Professor Pittman's house. I was too hoarse to read, but he read it for me.
When I thanked him for his kindness and attention and regretted that I had no
way of repaying, he said, 'Make a man of yourself and I will be more than repaid.’"
The second letter was written by Jake Hodges, Trinity class of 1877, who
visited the deserted Tehuacana campus in 1902, just two months after the
university had departed for Waxahachie. Traversing familiar scenes of his
student days, Hodges reported that he found "melancholy pleasure" in
all that he saw there, recalling the names of fellow students, faculty, and
townspeople who helped shape his intellect and character. In the eerie silence
of the deserted hillside campus, Hodges relived in his mind the time when
Tehuacana bustled with activity. And he made an observation then that is
equally true today. "It should be no new thought that Trinity University was never Tehuacana nor Tehuacana Trinity University; and it is quite as
true now that Trinity University is not Waxahachie nor Waxahachie Trinity University. The house is neither the family, nor the younger children neither more or
less the family than are the older ones. We are one forever.”[xx]
As we move into a new century with new leadership, we look forward to the
challenges and opportunities that lie ahead. President Brazil's recent words
make a fitting ending to this Tale of Three Cities. "We must not let our
sense of accomplishment obscure our sense of potential.”[xxi]