Manly, Blackwell, Poteat…

This article was written by John Blevins and originally published on September 14, 2017.

I’m currently carrying out a literature review on a writing project on American Christianity from the 19th century to the present. One of the books I’m surveying is entitled An Address to Christians Throughout the World. The book provides a theological justification for slavery, reflecting a consensus on the issue reached by 95 clergy from various Protestant Christian traditions; the Baptist signers included James Boyce, John Broadus, Basil Manly, and William Williams.

I was a religion and music major at Furman and my time in the religion department alerted me to the import of those four names—the names of four men who taught religion at Furman before leaving the college to found the initial core of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. As I read one of those four names, Basil Manly, I thought of my first year living at Furman in South Housing in the fall of 1985 and wondered if Manly Hall, one of the dorms in the South Housing complex, was named for him. It wasn’t. The dorm is named for his son, Charles, who was Furman’s President from 1881-1897.  And yet Basil, a life-long and passionate defender of slavery, was closely associated with the university. Manly was a friend of Richard Furman, whose own public defense of slavery is well known, and he played a key role in Furman’s founding in 1826.

I  wondered about the other men—Bennette Eugene Geer, Gordon Williams Blackwell, William Joseph McGlothlin, and Edwin McNeill Poteat—whose names appear above the entrances of the dorms of South Housing.  What were their opinions and stated positions on questions of race? An admittedly cursory internet search revealed snippets about only two of the remaining four: Blackwell and Poteat.

Poteat Hall is named for Edwin McNeill Poteat, President from 1903-1918.  Though Poteat was a Baptist pastor, as president he focused on broadening Furman’s intellectual breadth and academic standing by strengthening the sciences at Furman.  Poteat returned to Furman in the 1930s, long after his term as president, and he joined the faculty in the religion department.  He and his son Gordon, who lectured at Furman in 1938 on the nature of Christian faith, were condemned by some Furman students and local Baptist pastors for “radical” theological positions.  Poteat’s other son, Edwin, Jr., was a strong advocate against segregation beginning in the 1930s and he worked with various civil rights leaders on a number of advocacy and direct action efforts throughout his life.

Blackwell Hall is named for Gordon Blackwell, who served as president from 1965-1976.  Blackwell, a Furman alumnus, was president of Florida State when Furman approached him to gauge his interest in assuming the position at Furman in 1965.  He agreed– on the condition that Furman change its admission policy to accept any qualified student without regard to race. The Board of Trustees reluctantly agreed, placing the school in direct violation of the position of the South Carolina Baptist Convention.  Under pressure, the Board re-affirmed its position and Blackwell assumed leadership.

Three different men, three very different histories.  They reflect the known history of Furman, the history of those whose names adorn the buildings, commemorative plaques, and various endowed funds of the university. With research and effort, those histories can tell part of the story of Furman’s history on slavery and race.  That history is complex and the work of this task force will be essential for helping us understand its echoes in 2017.  But what has been lost until now, and will remain largely lost without effort, are the histories of countless Black women and men whose lives intersected with Furman and its people over the course of almost two centuries. If this task force is going to tell Furman’s history in relation to slavery and race, I hope they will unearth those stories and tell them, often for the first time. That will require painstaking research. It will also require the resolve to tell the fullest history possible, giving voice to those whose stories were never recorded in archives or published books, those whose names don’t adorn any buildings.