Close
About
FAQ
Home
Collections
Login
USC Login
Register
0
Selected
Invert selection
Deselect all
Deselect all
Click here to refresh results
Click here to refresh results
USC
/
Digital Library
/
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
/
Educating generations: the legacy and future of the Allen-White School campus, a Rosenwald School in Whiteville, Tennessee
(USC Thesis Other)
Educating generations: the legacy and future of the Allen-White School campus, a Rosenwald School in Whiteville, Tennessee
PDF
Download
Share
Open document
Flip pages
Contact Us
Contact Us
Copy asset link
Request this asset
Transcript (if available)
Content
EDUCATING GENERATIONS:
THE LEGACY AND FUTURE OF THE ALLEN-WHITE SCHOOL CAMPUS,
A ROSENWALD SCHOOL IN WHITEVILLE, TENNESSEE
By
Brannon Marie Smithwick
A Thesis Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE USC SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
MASTER OF HERITAGE CONSERVATION
May 2023
Copyright 2023 Brannon Marie Smithwick
ii
Dedication
This project is dedicated to the Black community in Hardeman County, Tennessee, who have
been passionately working to reimagine the Allen-White School as they once knew it for the past
fifty years. May their efforts, and the efforts of all Rosenwald school communities in the
American South, prove successful in years to come for the benefit of our country’s history and
healing.
iii
Acknowledgements
I am grateful beyond words to the members of my committee: Trudi Sandmeier, Dr. Meredith
Drake Reitan, and Jay Platt. Their guidance molded my words, and their input helped shape the
pages of this thesis into what it is today. I am especially thankful to you, Trudi, for your ongoing
support and weekly advice as I continued down the path of this project. To my fellow MHC
cohort thesis warriors, I salute you. Especially Emily Varley and Emi Takahara, who have eased
my thesis anxieties on more than one occasion this past year. To my mom, Ann Smithwick, for
bringing the Rosenwald schools and the story of the Allen-White School to my attention in the
first place. I could never have done this without your ongoing support and consultation. To Dr.
Mary Hoffschwelle, your guidance helped me better understand the Rosenwald Fund’s rural
school building program and the importance of the Rosenwald schools’ legacy in the South.
Your direction helped me contextualize this work, and I am so thankful to you for that. To Mr.
Evelyn Robertson of Whiteville, your collaboration on this project has been invaluable to me.
Your aid and encouragement enlightened my spirit and informed my efforts to recount the
meaningful history of the Allen-White School more than you could know. To the former Allen-
White students I had the opportunity to interview, thank you for lending your stories to make this
project as informative as it possibly can be. To my dad, Robin, and my sister, Blair, thank you
for your endless words of encouragement. And lastly, to Eric, my partner, thank you for your
love and support, especially when I felt stuck and needed a boost. You helped talk me through
much of the content of this thesis, and I could not have done it without you.
iv
Table of Contents
Dedication ...................................................................................................................................... ii
Acknowledgements ...................................................................................................................... iii
List of Figures .............................................................................................................................. vii
Abstract ......................................................................................................................................... ix
Introduction ................................................................................................................................... 1
Identity Terminology .................................................................................................................. 2
Date Terminology ....................................................................................................................... 5
Professional Terminology ........................................................................................................... 6
Research Methodology ............................................................................................................... 7
Chapter 1. Early Public Education for Southern Black Americans ........................................ 8
Black Education in the South through the Civil War ................................................................. 8
Tennessee’s Education Legislation through Reconstruction .................................................... 17
Philanthropic Investment in Black Education........................................................................... 25
The Peabody Fund ................................................................................................................ 27
The Slater Fund..................................................................................................................... 27
The Jeanes Fund ................................................................................................................... 28
The General Education Board .............................................................................................. 29
Chapter 2. The Rosenwald Fund and its Rural Schools Program ......................................... 32
The Founding Partners of the Rural School Building Program ................................................ 32
Julius Rosenwald and the Philanthropic Mindset ................................................................ 32
Booker T. Washington and the Tuskegee Philosophy ........................................................... 33
The Early Years at Tuskegee: Establishing the Rural Schools Program and its Architecture . 36
The Macon County Project and Early Experimentation, 1905-1910 ................................... 36
Formulating a Partnership and Initial Investment in Rural Schools, 1911-1912 ................ 36
Washington’s Proposal and the Rural School Experiment, 1912-1914 ............................... 39
Growing the Program Beyond Alabama, 1914-1915 ........................................................... 43
The Design of the Rosenwald Schools .................................................................................. 47
Washington’s Death, Reorganization, and Establishing the Rosenwald Fund, 1915-1920 . 51
The Later Years in Nashville: Tennessee Relocation and Reorganization of the Fund ........... 55
Rethinking the Rural School Building Program, 1920-1932 ................................................ 55
Rosenwald Fund Accomplishments in Tennessee .................................................................... 63
Chapter 3. From a Building to a Plant: The Story of the Allen-White School Campus ...... 67
The Hardeman County Context ................................................................................................ 67
The Rural Landscape of Whiteville, Hardeman County ....................................................... 67
Early Education and Public School Law, 1823-1900 ........................................................... 69
Establishing Black Public Education in Whiteville .................................................................. 73
Jesse C. Allen and The School for Colored Children, 1905-1917 ........................................ 73
A New Campus Vision and the Push for an Industrial School, 1917-1920 .......................... 74
v
The Hardeman County Training School Years: Building a Rosenwald School ....................... 77
Dorris Hall, the First Brick Rosenwald School in Tennessee, 1920 .................................... 77
Early Principals and Fundraising Problems, 1920-1928..................................................... 86
James H. White and a New Approach, 1928-1930 ............................................................... 89
The Allen-White School Years: Growing an Industrial School Plant ...................................... 96
Renaming the School, The NYA Program, and Campus Expansion, 1930-1948 ................. 96
Fields and Landscaping ...................................................................................................... 101
Playgrounds and Parking Lot ............................................................................................. 103
Ingram Hall, 1930 ............................................................................................................... 105
Howse Hall, 1930................................................................................................................ 108
Principal’s Home, 1932 ...................................................................................................... 110
Clift Recreational Hall, 1934 .............................................................................................. 111
Sandwich Shop, 1934 .......................................................................................................... 113
W.Y. Allen Hall, 1934 ......................................................................................................... 114
NYA Dormitory, 1936 ......................................................................................................... 114
The First Cheek Hall, 1940 ................................................................................................. 115
Agnes Tierney Hall, Gilbert Hall, and the New Cheek Hall, 1947-1948 ........................... 119
New Leadership and a Modern Curriculum in the Civil Rights Era, 1948-1969 ............... 125
Elementary School, 1964 .................................................................................................... 127
Integration, Arson, and the End of Allen-White, 1970-1974 .............................................. 128
Chapter 4. Saving Allen-White: Exploring Various Avenues of Heritage Conservation .. 132
Early Efforts to Conserve the Allen-White Campus............................................................... 132
Building Uses after School Closure .................................................................................... 132
Protecting a Community Asset with Grassroots Planning Efforts...................................... 135
Another Arson and a New Era ............................................................................................ 138
Possible Treatment Options for the Tangible Built Environment .......................................... 140
The Four Treatments and their Intended Applications ....................................................... 140
Option One: Reconstructing Dorris Hall ........................................................................... 142
Understanding Sites of Conflict and Conscience................................................................ 147
Option Two: Preserving a Ruin .......................................................................................... 150
Option Three: Rehabilitating a Campus ............................................................................. 153
Option Four: A Combined Treatment Approach ................................................................ 156
The Problem with Integrity ................................................................................................. 158
Alternative Approaches to Protect Intangible Heritage .......................................................... 162
The Production of Space and an Expanded Heritage Discourse ....................................... 162
Qualitative Methods for Heritage Conservation ................................................................ 166
Digital Methods for Heritage Conservation ....................................................................... 185
Conclusion and Recommendations ......................................................................................... 194
Bibliography .............................................................................................................................. 200
vi
Appendices ................................................................................................................................. 216
Appendix A: Timeline of the Allen-White School ................................................................. 216
Appendix B: Description and Plan of the Allen-White School by Christine Rhodes ‘48 ...... 223
Appendix C: Mental Maps by Former Allen-White Students ................................................ 229
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs ...... 235
Appendix E: Historic Photos of the Allen-White School Campus ......................................... 256
Appendix F: Modern Photos of the Allen-White School Campus ......................................... 262
vii
List of Figures
Figure 1.1 Teacher and students at a Freedmen’s Bureau school............................................14
Figure 1.2 Black men and women, probably Jeanes teachers..................................................29
Figure 2.1 Julius Rosenwald and Booker T. Washington........................................................46
Figure 2.2 Early Rosenwald school plan for a one teacher school...........................................50
Figure 2.3 Community School Plan 3......................................................................................60
Figure 2.4 Map of Rosenwald schools, 1932...........................................................................63
Figure 2.5 Julius Rosenwald with students from a Rosenwald school.....................................66
Figure 3.1 Rosenwald Fund 6-A Plan for a “Six Teacher Community School”.......................79
Figure 3.2 Hardeman County Training School footprint.........................................................82
Figure 3.3 Cornerstone lists founding trustees of the HCTS....................................................83
Figure 3.4 Photograph Dorris Hall building, ca. March 1921..................................................84
Figure 3.5 Photograph Dorris Hall building, ca. March 1920..................................................84
Figure 3.6 HCTS mortgage burning ceremony........................................................................92
Figure 3.7 Playground equipment and skating rink in front of Dorris Hall............................103
Figure 3.8 One of the first campuses busses in front of Ingram Hall, ca. 1930s.....................105
Figure 3.9 Proposed design for Ingram Hall.........................................................................107
Figure 3.10 Front and side view, Ingram Hall, Whiteville, TN, Hardeman County................107
Figure 3.11 Proposed design for Howse Hall..........................................................................108
Figure 3.12 Vocational Building, Howse Hall.........................................................................109
Figure 3.13 Principal’s Home..................................................................................................111
Figure 3.14 Clift Recreational Hall..........................................................................................112
Figure 3.15 Photos of campus buildings..................................................................................114
Figure 3.16 Cheek Hall under construction, 1939, view north.................................................117
Figure 3.17 Cheek Hall under construction, 1939, view northwest.........................................117
Figure 3.18 Cheek Hall under construction, architectural perspective.....................................121
Figure 3.19 Completed Cheek Hall reconstructed design........................................................125
Figure 3.20 New elementary school building..........................................................................128
Figure 3.21 Site plan of the Allen-White School, ca. 1930-1950.............................................131
Figure 4.1 Site plan of the Allen-White School, ca. 2022......................................................133
viii
Figure 4.2 Extant 1964 elementary school building...............................................................135
Figure 4.3 Dorris Hall as it stood ca. 2006.............................................................................137
Figure 4.4 Dorris Hall today, after damage caused by the 2012 arson....................................139
Figure 4.5 Proposed Allen-White Center for Education and Cultural Advancement.............143
Figure 4.6 Portrait of Jesse Norment ‘46...............................................................................169
Figure 4.7 Portrait of sisters Ruby ’45 and Mabel ’40 Andrews ‘46......................................169
Figure 4.8 Plan of Dorris Hall by Christine Rhodes...............................................................179
Figure 4.9 Portrait of Fredell Harris ’66 with his Allen-White warmups...............................180
Figure 4.10 Video interview still of Fredell Harris ’66 with his chart......................................181
Figure 4.11 Mental map drawn by Fredell Harris ’66 in 2022..................................................183
Figure 4.12 Exported shot of James Madison’s Montpelier 3D Model....................................187
Figure 4.13 Image of LiDAR generated point could of New Hope School..............................190
Figure C.1 Group portrait of former Allen-White students....................................................199
ix
Abstract
Access to education in the United States is often taken for granted today. But this was not the
case in the years dominated by Jim Crow and Civil Rights Era segregation laws in the American
South. At a time when racially restrictive policies were written into the social contract, Black
southerners, especially those living in rural areas, relied on grassroots organizing and
philanthropic contributions to build schools that would create opportunities for students. These
efforts became a springboard for Black economic mobility in the centuries following the end of
institutional slavery. This thesis examines the history of public education legislation in
Tennessee, location of the headquarters of the Rosenwald Fund, perhaps the most influential
philanthropic organization that contributed to the construction of rural Black schools at the time.
In particular, it analyzes the history of the Allen-White School, an accomplished Rosenwald
school in Whiteville, Hardeman County that served as the center of the surrounding Black
community from its inception in 1920 to its closure in 1970 when the local school system
integrated. It chronicles the attempts of the Hardeman County community to reconstruct the
school, even as they faced financial setbacks and arson attacks, arguing that the current heritage
discourse must advance beyond parochial conservation efforts centered on the tangible built
environment. Instead, more emphasis should be placed on research methodologies that bring to
light intangible collective memory as an appropriate criterion for place-based heritage action.
Placing Black narratives at the forefront of heritage conservation practices in the American
South will only ever is critical to ensure the inclusion of histories and perspectives that have for
too long been excluded or forgotten.
1
Introduction
The barriers faced by Black Americans in the South have been written about by
academics, journalists, and advocates alike. Ample scholarship exists about Black education and
economic achievement compared to that of White communities, a topic that has been researched
exhaustively in fields categorized within the social sciences.
1
But what has not been thoroughly
studied is the complicated yet symbiotic relationship between rural communities, philanthropic
organizations, and local governments in the South when it comes to the establishment of public
schools for Black students in the early twentieth century. Furthermore, there is a lack of
publicized first-hand accounts of the relationship between these schools and their pupils,
teachers, parents, and other community members that explore themes of collective memory and
cultural significance in the broader context of Black education.
Observing these underappreciated narratives through the lens of heritage conservation
brings to light stories of grassroots organizing, community fundraising, and the perseverance
necessary to overcome prejudice that produced the schools and the buildings that housed them,
transforming the lives of the area’s young people. This thesis seeks to further an understanding
of the resiliency and success of rural Black communities of the South, such as the one in
Hardeman County, Tennessee, in establishing institutions of education during the Jim Crow and
Civil Rights Eras. These stories not only represent the original quest for economic mobility in the
twentieth century, but remain essential tools for overcoming the conservation obstacles faced by
these communities today.
Chapter 1 establishes the framework for the remainder of the project by providing a brief
history of Black education in the region, and more specifically in the State of Tennessee, from
the years leading up to the Civil War until the turn of the twentieth century. It discusses the
region’s education policies and legislation that established the public school system, and
summarizes the philanthropic benefactors that propelled the rural schools movement for Black
education in the first decades of the century. Although several philanthropies are introduced, the
1
There are countless published works on the effects of education inequity in this country. The work of James D.
Anderson is an excellent place to start to learn more about the context of early Black education in the South. James
D. Anderson, The Education of Blacks in the South, 1860-1935 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press,
1988). For a more contemporary look at the longstanding patters of education inequity, see: Richard Rothstein,
Class and Schools: Using Social, Economic, and Educational Reform to Close the Black-White Achievement Gap
(Washington D.C.: Economic Policy Institute, 2004).
2
Rosenwald Fund is further elaborated upon in Chapter 2, given its considerable involvement with
the cause of rural school construction. The chapter discusses the necessary political relationships
and architectural standards set by the Fund that defined Rosenwald schools in Tennessee and
throughout the region. In Chapter 3, the scope of the project narrows to focus on Hardeman
County where the Allen-White School, which was established with Rosenwald funding in the
Town of Whiteville, played a significant role in advancing Black education for rural students in
the southwest region of Tennessee. By analyzing the school’s history and culture and chronology
of building construction between 1905-1974, it becomes evident that rural Black communities
were responsible for their own success in establishing facilities for education. These are
important heritage stories and practices rooted in vernacular forms that have been suppressed and
cast off in favor of mainstream monumental architecture conservation.
Chapter 4 recounts the struggle to conserve the Allen-White School by discussing the
heritage conservation efforts enacted by its community after the school officially closed in 1974.
Amid planning and financial struggles, the Allen-White campus suffered multiple arson attacks
that transformed these efforts from a rehabilitation project to one of reconstruction. The analysis
in this chapter contextualizes the difficult work of vernacular conservation within the greater
themes of inequity and racism, and introduces the question: ‘how do we conserve heritage when
a site has already been destroyed?’ This question is explored by defining and discussing heritage
conservation and its current limitations with regard to subjects like significance, authenticity, and
integrity, and offering various approaches to conserving Allen-White’s tangible built
environment based on the Secretary of Interior’s four treatment standards. The literature
attempting to push the field in a direction more inclusive of intangible cultural heritage is
discussed, and then alternative research methodologies such as qualitative materials and digital
methodologies, which are currently undervalued in the field, are considered. The chapter
concludes with the argument that in order to illuminate the stories of underrepresented places
that remain at risk of being forgotten, heritage professionals and institutions must adopt
methodologies that expand analyses beyond arguments of tangible significance.
Identity Terminology
In an effort to understand the complicated history of Black education in Hardeman
County and the American South at large, it is critical to establish language that accurately
3
represents the community to which these stories belong. American identity is complex and
intersecting, shaped by the nation’s patterns of colonialism and slavery in pursuit of political and
economic power.
2
Despite some advancement, many of these patterns persist today, and the
stories told in this thesis affect people of every racialized group, class, and gender differently.
3
Moreover, the quest for inclusive and uplifting racial terminology is ongoing and evolving.
Racial and ethnic terms are best defined by those who embody them and as a White, cis-
gendered, heterosexual woman, it is not my place to do so for a community to which I do not
belong. Therefore, I feel it is necessary to clarify the language choices I have made in this thesis
to recount stories of inequity, segregation, perseverance, and success as accurately as possible.
To recognize race as a societal construct, throughout the project I use the phrase
“racialized group” or “racialized people” rather than “race” or “ethnicity,” unless quoted. As
author Natalia Molina writes, “[these terms] although useful, tend to reify the categories they
describe rather than underscore their constructedness.”
4
Furthermore, the terms “enslaved
persons” or “enslaved people” are used in lieu of the term “slave” because they better emphasize
the humanity of an individual forced to perform labor against their will.
5
Most of the people referenced in this project are of African descent given their
geographic location and the American South’s involvement with the transcontinental slave trade
from the seventeenth through the mid-nineteenth centuries.
6
However, as with other southern
states during the Reconstruction and Jim Crow eras, Tennessee experienced migratory shifts
among Black professionals who travelled from the North to the South in search of job
2
John Eligon, “A Debate Over Identity and Race Asks, Are African-Americans ‘Black’ or ‘black’?.” New York
Times, June 26, 2020.
3
Although gender dynamics specifically pertaining to school curriculum and community are explored in this
project, the gender roles within Black communities in the American South during the timeframe studied were
categorized by traditional cis-gendered expectations of males and females. For that reason, gendered terms such as
girls/women and boys/men are used. However, I recognize that gender is a complex subject and various expressions
of gender and sexuality likely existed within the communities studied.
4
Natalia Molina, A Place at the Nayarit: How a Mexican Restaurant Nourished a Community, 1
st
ed., (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2022): 8.
5
“Language of Slavery,” National Park Service, last updated January 28, 2022, accessed January 2, 2023,
https://www.nps.gov/subjects/undergroundrailroad/language-of-slavery.htm#:~:text=or%20legal%20decisions.-
,Enslaved%20Person,or%20loved%20ones%2C%20or%20death.
6
The history of American involvement in colonialism and slavery in its entirety is outside the scope of this project.
For a first-hand account of the horrors of the American slave trade, Olaudah Equiano’s slave narrative has proved
instrumental: Olaudah Equiano, The Interesting Narrative of the life of Olaudah Equiano, Or Gustavus Vassa, The
African (United States: Palgrave MacMillian, 2007) [1789]. More information about the capitalist economic
interests of slavery in America can be found here: David Eltis, The Rise of African Slavery in the Americas
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999).
4
opportunities after the Civil War. This pattern developed primarily with professors, teachers, and
administrative leaders who relocated to southern states in search of job opportunities once
slavery had been permanently abolished.
7
Although the term “African American” may accurately
represents the majority of subjects in this thesis, it is because of these migratory shifts that I have
instead chosen to use the term Black. I believe this is the best way to ensure inclusivity of all
potential transnational ancestries represented within the writing. The adjective Black, unless
quoted as originally written otherwise, is always capitalized to afford the Black community the
respect and dignity deserved as equivalent to other nationalities, racialized groups, and cultures.
8
According to the Center for the Study of Social Policy, “the detachment of ‘White’ as a
proper noun allows White people to sit out of conversations about race and removes
accountability from White people’s and White institutions’ involvement in racism.”
9
Therefore,
in reference to the racialized group, the term White is capitalized as well, so as not to inherently
affirm Whiteness as the standard and norm for all Americans. Although not a replacement for
remaking the construct of racialized groups through behavior rather than words, I hope this
choice will help highlight the existence of the prejudiced power imbalance that still exists
today.
10
Many of the sources in this project were written during the first half of the twentieth
century and are therefore reminiscent of their time in the verbiage. The words “Negro” and
“colored” have been carefully avoided as descriptive terms and are only used when necessary,
such as written in quotations or job titles and program names that are significant to the context of
this thesis.
11
The phrase “of color” is used sparingly and only when referring to the intersection
7
This phenomenon of Black professionals moving South is not to be confused with the Great Migration, which
spanned from ca. 1910-1970 during which many Black southerners, most of which were former sharecroppers,
moved North and West in search of urban economic opportunities and better living conditions. The writing of Isabel
Wilkerson chronicles this topic through interviews and first-hand accounts. Isabel Wilkerson, The Warmth of Other
Suns (New York: Random House, 2010).
8
M. Keith Claybrook, Jr., “Black Identity and the Power of Self-Naming,” Black Perspectives, African American
Intellectual History Society, September 10, 2021.
9
Ann Thùy Nguyėn, Maya Pendleton, “Recognizing Race in Language: Why We Capitalize ‘Black’ and ‘White,’”
Center for the Study of Social Policy, March 23, 2020. https://cssp.org/2020/03/recognizing-race-in-language-why-
we-capitalize-black-and-white/. It is worth noting that the National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ) issued a
statement in support of capitalizing both Black and White in June 2020, which can be seen here:
https://www.nabj.org/page/styleguide (accessed October 25, 2022).
10
Erica Avrami ed., Preservation, Sustainability, and Equity (New York: Columbia Books on Architecture and the
City, 2021).
11
For more information on inclusive language, see: “Tips for Socially Responsible Writing,” Southwestern
University, Accessed October 24, 2022. https://www.southwestern.edu/live/files/7440-social-justice-language-
handout-2pdf.
5
of non-White communities. The phrases “Black Americans” and “Black Southerners” are often
used interchangeably throughout the project given the regional scope. In the first chapter, these
phrases are inclusive of both free and enslaved Black people of the South so as not to delineate
either group as being un-American based on circumstances beyond their control. Lastly, to avoid
classism and further marginalization based on economic status, I use the term “lesser income”
instead of “poor” or “low-income” throughout the project.
Date Terminology
In this project, I have capitalized the letter “P” for Progressive when referring to
philanthropists and other education reformers of the era. The Progressive Era was a period of
social activism and political reform spanning from the late 1890s to the late 1910s.
Progressivism, as it was known, was a response to poor working and living conditions in urban
areas of the North that resulted from industrialization, urbanization, immigration, and political
corruption in the nineteenth century. Progressives, typically wealthy capitalist elites, pushed
policies that advocated for better health and economic conditions, women’s suffrage, and access
to education, among other concerns. However, despite their desire to reform and improve quality
of life for Americans, most White Progressivists’ failed to challenge the inequities of segregation
and class discrimination which often disproportionately affected people of color throughout the
county.
12
This theme will be discussed in the thesis within the context of how Progressive
education reform policies affected Black Americans living in the South at the time.
The term “Jim Crow” is inherently racist. It stems from the name of a caricaturized role
played by an actor in Black face in the play The Kentucky Rifle beginning as early as the 1830s.
By the late nineteenth century, the term “Jim Crow” found new life as a blanket term for
segregationist laws passed by local governments after Reconstruction. Although segregationists
policies and overt racism existed in both the North and the South, it was the southern region of
the United States that embodied the term “Jim Crow” to define these laws that would remain
until the mid-twentieth century.
13
Unfortunately, no other term to define this era pertaining
specifically to the history of the American South exists. As a result, I have used the term “Jim
12
“Overview of the Progressive Era,” University of Houston, accessed November 13, 2022,
https://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/era.cfm?eraid=11&smtid=1.
13
“The Origins of Jim Crow,” Ferris State University Jim Crow Museum, accessed November 13, 2022,
https://www.ferris.edu/HTMLS/news/jimcrow/origins.htm.
6
Crow Era” to define the period of time in the South from 1865 after the end of the Civil War,
until the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court ruling that ended school segregation,
marking the end of the Jim Crow Era and the start of the national Civil Rights Movement.
Professional Terminology
The term “historic preservation” is informed by nineteenth century efforts in the United
States to protect places regarded as historically significant.
14
The earliest endeavors were
typically focused on preserving high-style properties associated with people significant to the
nation’s history and specific works by master architects, the capital for which flowed from
private property owners and organizations. An attempt to vernacularize the movement was
established in the mid-twentieth century through programs such as the Historic American
Building Survey (HABS), and the framework for the professional field was codified in the 1966
National Historic Preservation Act.
15
Because of its traditional emphasis on the tangible built environment relating to upper-
and middle-income Americans, many heritage professionals have determined the phrase “historic
preservation” to be exclusionary of cultural practices and traditions, especially those of
underrecognized communities. Therefore, in this project I use the term “historic preservation”
only when referring to heritage practices pertaining solely to architecture. Otherwise, I have
chosen to use the broader term “heritage conservation” when referring to community-oriented,
grassroots protection efforts and social issues as it provides a more inclusive recognition of
intangible cultural practices, place-based collective memory, and personal identity that each also
fall under the umbrella of “heritage,” known as “intangible heritage.”
16
The phrase also does well
to emphasize the importance of documentation and managing incremental change of culturally
significant places over time via the word “conservation.” This subtle yet meaningful change in
14
The above-listed treatments are further elaborated upon Chapter 4. They include preservation, rehabilitation,
restoration, and reconstruction, and are defined as the four approaches to work at historic places by the Secretary of
Interior Standards for the Treatment of Historic Properties, whose guidelines are found here: Anne E. Grimmer, The
Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for the Treatment of Historic Properties with Guidelines for Preserving,
Rehabilitating, Restoring, & Reconstructing Historic Buildings (U.S. Department of the Interior, National Park
Service, Technical Preservation Services, 2017).
15
A thorough introduction to the professional field of historic preservation/heritage conservation can be found here:
Norman Tyler, Ilene R. Tyler, Ted J. Ligibel, Historic Preservation: An Introduction to its History, Principles, and
Practice, 3
rd
ed. (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2018).
16
Dolores Hayden, The Power of Place: Urban Landscapes as Public History (Cambridge, Mass: The
Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 1995), 9.
7
language shifts the profession away from values-based, elite-oriented conservation practices and
toward embracing the narratives of all communities, such as those traditionally marginalized
from American society, whose stories are not always connected to architectural landmarks and
sites, or whose sites may not be architecturally significant in the traditional western context.
17
Research Methodology
This thesis is written primarily from discoveries made through books, journal articles,
newspapers, and published master’s theses and dissertation papers written on the subject matter.
I was also able to collect a significant number of primary sources to support the research,
including correspondences, meeting minutes, policy memos, budget items, original graphics, and
other ephemera from the Tennessee State Archives, Fisk University Special Collections Library,
Mississippi Valley State University Special Collections Library, Bolivar Hardeman County
Library local reading room, and various local contacts in Hardeman County, Tennessee.
In addition to written sources, I had the opportunity to use material published in a
photography and oral history project titled Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders which
was created, published, and exhibited at the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis,
Tennessee by my mother, Ann Smithwick, between 2005-2007. In addition to the twenty-six oral
history interviews collected for her project in 2005, I recorded eight additional oral history
interviews with former Allen-White School students in October 2022, two of whom had
previously been interviewed by my mother. Each of the eight students interviewed were asked to
complete mental maps of the Allen-White campus to help me piece together the chronology and
placement of the site’s historic built environment based on memory.
18
Although this topic
deserves further research, advocacy, and publication, I hope my attempt to include non-
institutional reference material and local community input will help in conveying the story of the
Allen-White School in Hardeman County as accurately as possible.
17
For more details and analysis on the language constructed around heritage conservation and its meaning, see
Chapter 4.
18
The concept of mental mapping was taken from Kevin Lynch, The Image of the City (Cambridge: MIT Press,
1960) and is discussed further in Chapter 4.
8
Chapter 1. Early Public Education for Southern Black Americans
19
Black Education in the South through the Civil War
To say educational opportunities for Black southerners did not exist prior to the Civil
War would be a disservice to the teachers who risked incarceration—and in many cases their
lives—to run schools for Black children at the time.
20
But that is not to say access to education
was plentiful and well-rounded in curriculum, or even that a significant percentage of Black
children received an education at all. In fact, the vast majority of Black people living in the
South at the time were enslaved and therefore had no access to education at all, for fear from
White oppressors that Black literacy would prove a threat to the authority and existence of the
slave system. As a result, the curriculum of Black education, in the Antebellum South through
the Civil War, when it existed at all, was limited primarily to teaching enslaved peoples and free
Black children how to read. Still though, the practice of teaching Black students at all was
incredibly rare and highly contested as it had been in the Colonial Era.
21
The most common reason educating enslaved persons was sometimes permitted in the
South was in order to Christianize them. Several denominations, including Puritans, Baptists,
Catholics, and Quakers were eager to educate enslaved people, for various reasons.
22
Most
religious groups felt it was their duty to teach enslaved persons to read so they could interpret the
Bible and worship God in their individual pursuit of salvation. These groups believed that to
19
The following chapter chronicles the history of Black education in the American South and, more specifically, in
Tennessee. During the period discussed here, many more opportunities were afforded in the North to both enslaved
and free Black Americans that, should they be thoroughly discussed here, would provide more context than needed
to understand the objective of this project.
20
It must be noted, however, that not all educators who taught Black children at this time did so with wholly good
intentions. While many were abolitionists and free Black community leaders themselves, others were White teachers
who supported the institution of slavery, yet felt it their obligation to teach Black students to read so they could
better obey their masters and understand the Bible. Jerry Wayne Woods, “The Julius Rosenwald Fund School
Building Program: A Saga in the Growth and Development of African American Education in Selected West
Tennessee Communities" (Master’s thesis, University of Mississippi, 1995), 79-87.
21
Heather A. Williams, Self-Taught: African American Education in Slavery and Freedom (Chapel Hill: University
of North Carolina Press, 2005), 26.
22
Unlike other denominations that worked to Christianize enslaved persons within the societal construct of
institutional slavery, it is important to mention that the most active group in converting enslaved peoples were the
Quakers. Contrary to other Christian sects, the Quaker ethos opposed enslavement. Although it is not elaborated
upon in this project, it is of note that Quaker ideologies and moral standards aligned with those of the abolitionists,
and although their work primarily took place in the Mid-Atlantic and New England, there was a small Quaker
presence in the Carolinas and Georgia that took an active role in freeing and converting enslaved persons by taking
part in the Underground Railroad. Adrienne M. Israel, “Free Blacks, Quakers, and the Underground Railroad in
Piedmont North Carolina,” The North Carolina Historical Review 95, no.1 (2018): 1-28.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/45184905.
9
convert an enslaved person was to free an enslaved person, not from their physical
imprisonment, but from eternal damnation of their soul.
23
Margaret Douglass, a White supporter
of slavery who was arrested for teaching both free Black students and enslaved how to read in
Virginia wrote upon her conviction: “I deem it the duty of every Southerner, morally and
religiously, to instruct his slaves, that they may know their duties to their masters, and to their
common God,” and that after serving her one-month sentence, she would continue her work by
“endeavoring to teach the colored race humility and a prayerful spirit, how to bear their
sufferings as our Saviour bore his for all of us. I will teach them their duty to their superiors, how
to live, and how to die.”
24
Such was the sentiment for many devout Southern Christians during
the nineteenth century who supported the institution of slavery but made it their mission as
Christians to teach enslaved children and adults to be literate as a means of conversion.
Another reason enslaved peoples were sometimes offered a basic education was to aid in
their duties or to establish hierarchy among enslaved populations. Some White owners
encouraged teaching enslaved persons to read because they felt it increased the economic
efficiency of their labor supply. Most commonly, some female house enslaved persons were
taught reading, writing, and basic arithmetic so they could aid in assisting White children with
their own lessons.
25
Some owners also felt it necessary to teach a few male enslaved people and
bondservants to be literate so they could run errands on their behalf. At Thomas Jefferson’s
Monticello and Poplar Forest estates, archeological studies suggest that some artisan and house
enslaved peoples were taught to read and write based on hierarchy of duties and perhaps as an
award for good work. There is also evidence to suggest that enslaved persons across the South
took it upon themselves to lean to read and write through the use of slates and other materials
acquired in secrecy. They did so by learning privately in quarters for enslaved people and
organizing schools that met before dawn or late into the night.
26
However, on the whole, literacy
was seen by White southerners as a threat to both the institution of slavery and their investment
in it. In the years preceding the Civil War, statewide laws across the South became increasingly
23
Bernard Rosenthal, “Puritan Conscience and New England Slavery,” The New England Quarterly, vol. 46, no. 1
(March 1973): 62-81; Williams, Self-Taught, 31.
24
Williams, Self-Taught, 34.
25
Woods, “School Building Program,” 80.
26
Williams, Self-Taught, 22; Antonio T. Bly, “‘Pretends He Can Read’: Runaways and Literacy in Colonial America,
1730—1776.” Early American Studies 6, no. 2 (2008): 261–94. http://www.jstor.org/stable/23546575.
10
forceful. Not only did legislation prohibit access to education for both the enslaved and freed
populations, but it penalized anyone willing to provide it.
27
Nonetheless, schools for free Black Americans also existed in the South before the Civil
War with the help of Black and White educators and community members. Established
predominately in well-populated urban areas, these schools were recognized by supporters as a
primary vehicle by which to resist institutional racism and second-class citizenship. Education
policy historian Christopher M. Span clarifies that:
Southern free black leaders recognized the necessity and expediency of education given
the group's limited and insecure existence in the American social order… Schools were
intended to be institutions that informed African American youth of their precarious
societal statuses; they were to assist freeborn African American children in learning the
literacy skills necessary for combating discrimination, segregation, and slavery in
adulthood; and they were expected to aid African Americans in acquiring equality, or at
least some degree of social mobility.
28
But despite the persistence among free Black communities to operate schools, they were often
met with harassment and threats from White policymakers and dissenters, especially those of
working class status who felt their own opportunities for education were lacking. Span
elaborates, citing that free Black southerners who organized schools never received the
fundamental support needed to properly educate a significant number of students because:
…as a group, their existence and varying successes proved to be an anomaly in a nation
premised upon a white supremacist ideology and the hereditary and lifelong enslavement
of blacks. In some locales, they barely maintained a quasi-free status and, consequently,
fared little better than their enslaved brethren.
29
During the Civil War, access to education for Black Americans expanded as
reconstruction of the South began to take hold. With the First and Second Confiscation Acts of
1861 and 1862 respectively, Congress declared it legal for the federal government to seize rebel
property that had been used in support of the Confederate cause. The passing of these acts made
it possible for the federal government to sell land to public and private entities wishing to
establish schools for former enslaved peoples across the South, though little progress was made
27
Woods, “School Building Program,” 79-87; Christopher M. Span, “Learning in Spite of Opposition: African
Americans and Their History of Educational Exclusion in Antebellum America.” Counterpoints 131 (2005): 26–53.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/42977282.
28
Span, “Learning in Spite of Opposition,” 35, 36.
29
Span, “Learning in Spite of Opposition,” 33.
11
in this endeavor until after the war ended.
30
In the next few years, President Lincoln’s 1863
Emancipation Proclamation and the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment in 1865 removed all
legal prohibitions against Black education in southern States. Newly freed Black Americans
looked to the federal government and Union armies throughout the South for refuge and
assistance.
31
As the Union armies fought their way through the South, thousands of refugee enslaved
persons made their way to Union camps where abolitionist-inspired northern teachers, the
American Missionary Association, and other benevolent societies set up camps for the
“contrabands,” as refugee enslaved persons came to be known during the war. Schools were
organized in many of the camps and basic grammar, literacy, reading, writing, arithmetic, and
geography were taught in classrooms located in confiscated Confederate buildings, barns and
stables, or in fields under trees, anywhere communities could create spaces for learning. In
addition to a basic primary education, General Ulysses S. Grant ordered that the schools also
provide an industrial education, writing that the enslaved male refugees were to be organized
“into suitable companies for working…picking, ginning, bailing all cotton now cut and
ungathered.”
32
In conjunction with this training, freedwomen were taught sewing and alterations
to make their own clothes and help mend Union uniforms.
33
With the inclusion of industrial
training in the “contraband” refugee camp school curriculum, the government set the standard for
the curriculum of future Black schools by centering freedmen and women in traditional labor
roles to which they had been forcibly performing for over two hundred years.
Toward the end of the war, a series of federal laws emerged that directly supported the
expansion of Black education. On June 25, 1864, President Lincoln signed a bill that provided
funds for both Black and White schools in Washington D.C., an act which essentially established
the first public school system for Black students in the United States:
Funds shall be applied to the education of both white and colored children and that the
proportion for colored children be paid to the board of trustees for colored schools, the
30
Woods, “School Building Program,” 89-106; Paul Finkelman, “The Revolutionary Summer of 1862: How
Congress Abolished Slavery and Created a Modern America,” Prologue Magazine 49, no. 4 (2017),
https://www.archives.gov/publications/prologue/2017/winter/summer-of-1862.
31
Woods, “School Building Program,” 89-106.
32
Paul David Phillips, “Education of Blacks in Tennessee During Reconstruction, 1865-1870,” Tennessee Historical
Quarterly 46, no. 2, (1987): 98-99, http://www.jstor.org/stable/42626663.
33
Williams, Self-Taught, 61.
12
funds to be distributed in proportion as the number of colored children between the ages
of 6 and 17 years bears to the whole number of children thereof.
34
Despite this act of Congress, compliance in Washington D.C.—a geographically southern city—
was sparse. It would take several subsequent acts to force local officials to provide funding for
the newly established Black public schools over the course of the next decade.
35
By modern
standards, the system established in Washington was an inadequate, segregated school system
that did nothing to combat the overarching societal construct of White supremacy. But in the
context of American history, this initiative by Congress to formalize funding for Black education
not only established the first public school system for Black Americans below the Mason-Dixon
line, but laid the groundwork for future publicly funded efforts throughout the South.
36
Simultaneous to the work being done in the nation’s capital, northern relief societies
began funding independently run schools for free Black soldiers and refugee enslaved peoples in
Union defended southern territories during the Civil War. Organizations like the New England
Freedmen’s Aid Society in Boston, New York’s National Freedmen’s Relief Association, and the
Freedmen’s Relief Association of Pennsylvania sent resources to small schools that operated out
of “colored” regiments, camps, and on seized plantations.
37
But it was not until Congress passed
“an Act to establish a Bureau for the Relief of Freedmen and Refugees” on March 3, 1865, that
Black education in the South began to truly organize. More commonly known as the Freedmen’s
Bureau (Bureau), the purpose of this government agency was to assist freedmen and women in
the South during the early years of Reconstruction.
The Bureau, acting under the United States Department of War, was successful in
numerous missions to support the transition into freedom for Black Americans. But it’s most
widely recognized accomplishment was its creation of a network of schools funded by both the
government and private benefactors to support Black academics from the primary through
collegiate levels.
38
Working heavily in collaboration with the American Missionary Association,
34
Emmett D. Preston, “The Development of Negro Education in the District of Columbia.” The Journal of Negro
Education 9, no. 4 (1940): 601. https://doi.org/10.2307/2292805.
35
Preston, “Negro Education,” 601-603.
36
Finkelman, “Revolutionary Summer,” 2017.
37
Woods, “School Building Program,” 91.
38
Although funds were focused on schools that offered primary education to Black students, the Freedmen’s Bureau
is known to have contributed to the establishment of several HBCUs, including Fisk University, Hampton
University, and Howard University, the latter of which was named after Oliver Otis Howard, a Civil War hero and
commissioner of the Freedmen’s Bureau. “Today in History-November 20: Howard University,” Library of
Congress, accessed October 27, 2022, https://www.loc.gov/item/today-in-history/november-20.
13
the organization published its own school textbooks, financially supported teachers’ training and
salaries, and created a system of inspectors, superintendents, and tax commissioners that
managed school operations. By the end of the Civil War in April of 1865, the Freedmen’s
Bureau education program had proved successful and expanded when the federal government
urged compulsory attendance for 5-14 year old students, regardless of racialized group. In the
summer of the same year, West Tennessee recorded 4,095 Black pupils taught by 56 teachers in
the region.
39
The success of the Freedmen’s Bureau school program, however, did not result in an
equitable distribution of resources by any means in relation to publicly funded White schools
across the country. Although enacted with monies obtained through the legislature, there was
never enough to properly supply schools with the necessary infrastructure for long-term success.
Many schools relied on parochial financial supplementation and operated out of church
buildings, lacking the adequate furniture and educational materials to function properly. But
these schools were a luxury by comparison to those in rural areas, many of which were run in
dilapidated lodges, sheds, and cabins.
40
(Figure 1.1) Not dissimilar to the camp schools during
the War, communities welcomed any physical structures where students could convene for
learning. But the built environment was often not conducive for classrooms, and the poor
condition of the buildings posed health risks and significant distractions to the daily lessons, as
an unnamed freedmen’s schoolteacher in Louisiana recounts of her experience:
Arrived, found a place to live a mile and a half from the school shed. Dreadful people,
dirty and vulgar, but the best I can do…Did well enough till it rained, since then I have
walked three miles a day ankle deep in thick black mud that pulls off my shoes. Northing
to eat but strong pork and sour bread. The school shed has no floor and the rains sweep
clean across it, through the places where the window should be. I have to huddle the
children first in one corner and then in another to keep from drowning or swamping.
41
39
Woods, “School Building Program,” 94.
40
Woods, “School Building Program,” 91-96.
41
Wiley Bell, Southern Negroes, 1861-1865 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965), 271.
14
Figure 1.1: Teacher and students at a Freedmen’s Bureau school. John D. Heywood, ca. 1865-1872. The Freedmen’s
Bureau Collection, National Museum of African American History and Culture.
But despite varying conditions, it is evident that students did not take their education for granted.
Another teacher, Philadelphia-born Black activist and educator Charlotte Forten, writes of her
students in South Carolina:
I never before saw children so eager to learn, although I had had several years' experience
in New England schools. Coming to school is a constant delight and recreation to them.
They come here as other children go to play. The older ones, during the summer, work in
the fields from early morning until eleven or twelve o'clock, and then come to school,
after their hard toil in the hot sun, as bright and as anxious to learn as ever.
42
The ability to attend school was cherished by both the former enslaved population and
Black students who had not been enslaved, especially in rural communities. For many, like the
students Charlotte Forten describes, it was a respite from the fieldwork required of school aged
children to help support their families. To convene and learn in one singular physical
environment fostered a sense of safety and normalcy for Black Americans struggling to gain an
economic foothold as free citizens. Schools, regardless of their insufficient facilities, created the
illusion of safety for school children from the outside world. It provided scholastic opportunities
42
William Loren Katz, Eyewitness: The Negro in American History (New York: Pitman Publishing, 1967), 251.
15
and encouragement to achieve success, and social skills that were imperative to create a sense of
community pride.
As Black individuals and families began to establish homes in the South, many found
work in farming and trade positions because of the skills they possessed as enslaved persons or
through the limited work opportunities for free Black citizens prior to the war.
43
The majority of
rural Black southerners became tenant farmers, more commonly known as sharecroppers. The
sharecropping system was the South’s economic answer to the fall of the plantation system and
subsequent emancipation of its forced laborers.
44
After the War, it quickly became an economic
institution characterized by those who entered a land and labor arrangement “whereby an
individual or family receives a stipulated proportion of the crops produced on a particular plot of
land in return for their labor on that same plot.”
45
Across the South, the sharecropping system
mushroomed after emancipation, and newly freed enslaved people rejected the attempts of White
landowners to employ them exclusively as wage hands, insisting they receive some stock of
ownership in the land. As the transformation from the plantation to sharecropping system
progressed in the decades after the War, it became evident that the new system was merely a
small progression from the last. The freedmen’s lack of capital and credit, combined with the
hostility of White southerners to Black ownership, severely restricted their ability to acquire and
own land.
46
So, as much as education was a priority, attending school was still a luxury that
many Black students could only indulge in when their services were not needed in the fields or
for other household chores.
Because rural sharecropping families had to abide by the farming seasons, early schools
established by the Bureau met for only four to six months of the year. Schools typically closed
March-May for planting and again in September and October when most crops were harvested.
47
School curriculum focused on basic literacy and arithmetic at the primary level, adopting the
ethos of “self-help and self-determination” that predominate Black institutions advocated for at
43
Phillips, “Education of Blacks,” 108.
44
Robert Tracy McKenzie, “The Freedmen and the Soil in the Upper South: The Reorganization of Tennessee
Agriculture, 1865-1880,” The Journal of Southern history 59, no. 1 (1993): 64.
45
Robert Tracy McKenzie, “Sharecropping,” Tennessee Encyclopedia (Nashville: Tennessee Historical Society,
2017), accessed November 2, 2022, http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/sharecropping/.
46
McKenzie, “Sharecropping,” 64.
47
Williams, Self-Taught, 134.
16
the time.
48
As more schools in the Bureau’s program were built, the curriculum expanded to
include industrial training in agriculture, trade, and domestic work as the camp schools had
taught during the Civil War. Despite support among both Black and White populations who
argued this type of schooling was important for economic advancement among the Black
racialized people, limited access to traditional liberal arts subject matter coupled with the focus
on industrial training to support sharecropping kept former enslaved persons squarely confined
within the constructed system of White supremacy.
49
Because the curriculum of freedmen’s
schools focused on teaching Black students a trade, White opposition diminished as the Bureau’s
schools became more prolific. White southerners began to see the benefits of educating formerly
enslaved persons as tradesmen and field hands to become better workers. The Bureau leaned into
this mentality and even advocated for it, hoping it would reduce hostility from White objectors.
Historian David Phillips explains that:
…instead of working for the interest of the blacks, many officers of the Bureau worked
for the ex-masters’ interests. Not only did [Commissioner] Howard’s Bureau deny
freedmen the promised “forty acres and a mule,” but neither did the Bureau schools
prepare them for meaningful freedom but kept them on hold.
50
Overall, however, the Freedmen’s Bureau was a success in its own right as the first
national attempt by the federal government, albeit both flawed and limited, to establish a publicly
funded school system for Black students. It is estimated that the Bureau’s education program
spent a total of five million dollars to set up schools for Black students during its tenure,
$400,000 of which was spent on teacher-training institutions. From its inception in 1865 to its
dissolution seven years later, scholars believe the agency opened almost 1,800 schools with over
100,000 Black students and 2,800 teachers throughout the South, a massive advancement in the
efforts to establish education for Black students since before the Civil War.
51
The agency was
abolished in 1872 when state education officials and church parishes had begun to take over
48
Williams, Self-Taught, 78-79; Patricia A. Young, “Roads to Travel: A Historical Look at the Freedmen’s Torchlight-An
African American Contribution to 19th-Century Instructional Technologies.” Journal of Black Studies 31, no. 5 (2001):
619. http://www.jstor.org/stable/2668082.
49
The industrial training curriculum of Black schools is further discussed and analyzed in Chapters Two and Three.
Williams, Self-Taught, 144-155.
50
Phillips, “Education of Blacks,” 108.
51
It is impossible to ascertain the exact number of schools established, students taught, and teachers employed with
Freedmen’s Bureau funding given the disaggregated and often total lack of statewide data pertaining to the
organization. William Troost, “Freedmen’s Bureau,” EH.Net Encyclopedia, Economic History Association, 2008,
accessed October 27, 2022, https://eh.net/encyclopedia/the-freedmens-bureau/.
17
administration of the schools as southern states passed legislation to support tax-funded public
schools. Northern interest in reconstructing the South had waned, and public funding for Black
schools would remain a patchwork effort well into the Jim Crow Era.
Tennessee’s Education Legislation through Reconstruction
In Tennessee, the patterns of early education for Black southerners followed those of the
greater South. After the enslaved persons revolt in Virginia led by Nat Turner in 1831, most
southern states passed laws that prohibited teaching enslaved persons to read and write. The
three that did not include Maryland, Kentucky, and Tennessee. Therefore, prior to the Civil War,
Tennessee was one of only a few southern states whose laws generally permitted educating free
Black citizens and enslaved peoples. The 1834 revision of the Tennessee state constitution
supported “knowledge, learning and virtue” as “being essential to the preservation of republican
institutions” and furthermore established a local and statewide tax-supported “common school
fund…the interest thereof shall be inviolably appropriated to the support and encouragement of
common schools throughout the state, and for the equal benefit of all the people thereof.”
52
However the verbiage to codify tax-supported common schools for Black students was lacking.
Tennessee’s well-established economic institution of slavery and the limited rights awarded to
free Black citizens in the state meant that almost no value was placed on supporting Black
schools with tax revenue in the vague language of the 1834 revision. Access to publicly funded
education remained incredibly limited and decentralized in the years leading up to the Civil War,
even for White students. Consequently, free Black southerners were typically excluded entirely
from the state’s minimal resources and were certainly unwelcome in White schools.
53
On June 8, 1861, Tennessee became the last state to secede from the Union and join the
Confederacy after the Civil War began. The state’s geographic proximity and economic ties to
the North caused reluctancy and mixed interest in secession, particularly between mountainous
Eastern Tennesseans who remained loyal to the Union and Middle and West Tennesseans who
favored secession in order to maintain the institution of slavery they felt was necessary to defend
their economic investment in the agricultural plantation system. Although some small
independent schools for free Black children continued to operate in Tennessee during the Civil
52
Tennessee Const. art.11, §10, 1834.
53
Mary S. Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” Trials and Triumphs: Tennesseans’ Search for
Citizenship, Community, and Opportunity, Middle Tennessee State University, 2014.
18
War, it is reasonable to assume that enrollment was low as a result of conscription laws passed
by both armies that enlisted Black men, geographic shifts in the Black population caused by
those who fled the state, and a general lack of resources allocated to education in favor of war
efforts.
54
It was the end of the Civil War and Reconstruction years that marked the real beginning
of organized efforts by Black Tennesseans to establish institutions of public education. Black
schools were most often founded and operated with support from independent freedmen’s aid
organizations, the American Missionary Association, and the Freedmen’s Bureau, as was the
case in other southern states.
55
In November 1865, only seven months after the end of the Civil
War and eight months after the establishment of the Freedmen’s Bureau, senior officer of the
Bureau Clinton B. Fisk sent a report to Major General Oliver Otis Howard, the U.S. commander
of the Bureau in Washington D.C., stating that 9,084 pupils had been taught by 138 teachers in
Tennessee schools established by the Bureau during the months of August and September of that
year. These numbers do not thoroughly represent the total number of Black schools operating in
Tennessee at the time given the report’s exclusion of statistics pertaining to previous months and
additional schools operating independently outside of the Bureau by Christian organizations and
other private benefactors. Nonetheless, they represent the rapidly growing numbers of enrolled
free Black students after the conclusion of the War. Fisk elaborates on the program’s continued
growth, relaying that:
In addition to the free schools above enumerated, the Colored people have sustained
many independent schools in Louisville, Nashville, Memphis, and Knoxville. The
number of pupils in the free schools will be largely increased in the reports for October
not yet received at this Office. The Cause of Education is steadily progressing. The
Freedmen are earnest in their efforts to acquire knowledge. The prospect of the adoption
of a school law for Tenn. by the present Legislature, providing for the education of all
without distinction of color is very good. The bill admitting the colored man to the
witness box in all the State Courts has already passed the Senate—its passage in the
lower house is considered certain—and the cause of Freedom and Justice in this section
of the Country may be safely set down as "Marching On."
56
54
Kathy Lauder, “Chapter 130 and the Black Vote in Tennessee,” Middle Tennessee Journal of Genealogy &
History 24, no. 2 (2010): 1-6; Larry H. Whiteaker, “Civil War,” Tennessee Encyclopedia (Nashville: Tennessee
Historical Society, 2017), accessed October 30, 2022, http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/civil-war/.
55
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014.
56
Henry Lee Swint, “Reports from Educational Agents of the Freedmen’s Bureau in Tennessee, 1865-1870,”
Tennessee Historical Quarterly 1, no. 1 (1942): 156-157.
19
The law to which Fisk refers was the Public School Law of March 1867. The statute was
one of several passed in Tennessee that extended rights to newly freed Black citizens when
reconstruction efforts increased after it became the first state to rejoin the Union on July 24,
1866. As a result of these laws, Tennessee saw a vast expansion of rights for its Black citizens in
the immediate years following the Civil War, such as the right to bear witness, as Fisk
recounts.
57
While other former Confederate states begrudgingly adopted universal citizenship for
Black Americans via military enforcement, Tennessee was quick to mend its relationship with
the North by swiftly ratifying the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Amendments in 1865 and 1866,
respectively.
58
A series of laws passed through the legislature by Tennessee’s general assembly
in the coming years, and Black Tennesseans were for the first time able to legally make
contracts, inherit property, to sue, to hold equal benefits and protections under law, to hold
office, and to vote.
59
Among these rights awarded to Tennessee’s new citizens was the right to
receive a publicly funded education, as written by law in the 1867 Public School statute.
The provisions of the Public School Law “passed an act for the reorganization,
supervision, and maintenance of the common schools,” thus establishing the first state regulated
public school system. The statute provided tax-generated revenue that would be allocated for
public schools, created a state superintendent of education, and took further steps to ensure
county supervision. However, the legislation did not establish one singular system of schools for
all Tennessee students.
60
Instead, two separate systems were chartered—one for White students
and one for Black students—providing that “each civil district in the state establish one or more
special schools for Negro children when the number should exceed twenty-five, so as to afford
57
Lauder, “Black Vote,” 2010.
58
The years between 1865-1871 came to be known as the Radical Reconstruction period in the postwar South.
Named for the Radical Republicans in Congress who maintained control of the legislative body, the time period
represented the Union’s steadfastness in legislative reform across the South to enforce universal freedom attained by
the country’s new Black citizens. The period was characterized by the Reconstruction Acts of 1867 and 1868, which
“sent federal troops to the South to oversee the establishment of state governments that were more democratic.”
Because Tennessee had already voluntarily rejoined the Union and willingly adopted the new legislative agenda, it
was exempt from military control and integrated back into the Union relatively peacefully by comparison to other
Southern states. R.L. McDonnold, “The Reconstruction Period in Tennessee,” The American Historical Magazine 1,
no. 4 (1896): 312, http://www.jstor.org/stable/42657113.
59
In the same month as the public school statute was passed, Black Tennesseans earned the right to vote and hold
political office, three years before the passage of the federal 15
th
Amendment, which granted that right to all Black
Americans. Lauder, “Black Vote,” 2010.
60
Cynthia Griggs Fleming, “Elementary and Secondary Education,” Tennessee Encyclopedia (Nashville: Tennessee
Historical Society, 2007), accessed October 29, 2022, http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/elementary-and-
secondary-education/.
20
them as far as practicable the advantage of a common school education.”
61
The choice to
segregate schools in 1867 broadly established the start of the Jim Crow Era in Tennessee and
therefore laid the foundation for a dual-school system that would remain in place for the next
century until integration.
62
After the Public School Law passed, school funding in Tennessee remained a slow
endeavor. Before any funding could be allocated to local schools, a population census had to be
taken among both Black and White school aged children. Several obstacles caused delays in the
census collection of Black communities, among them threats on the lives of those who dared to
count the Black population for the purpose of organizing schools, especially in rural areas.
Finding qualified teachers was also an issue. Many Black educators were deemed ill-equipped by
the Bureau and as a result White southerners often took on teaching roles, many of whom were
incompetent or fearful themselves. As writer Paul David Phillips details, “most local white
teachers who were sympathetic to teaching freedmen did not because they feared social
ostracism or worse. And those who dared break local social convention sometimes suffered
abuse.”
63
Consequently, it took several years to appropriate any money to Black schools across
the state at all. By October 1868, only eleven schools for Black pupils had been established
under the new common school law.
64
The determination of the Tennessee general assembly to establish two school systems
after the Civil War had profound repercussions economically as well, predominately in West and
Middle Tennessee where the agricultural plantation system had suddenly collapsed following the
War in rural parts of the regions. When plantations were abandoned and enslaved person were
emancipated, few taxable properties remained and much of the state’s population, regardless of
racialized group, had been displaced following the devastation of the War. Because of this, tax
61
Ernest L. Rivers, “The History of Allen-White High School, Whiteville, Hardeman County, TN from 1930-1948,”
(Master’s thesis, Tennessee State A&I University, 1954), 14-15.
62
The dates the define the Jim Crow Era vary per southern state and remain contested by scholars. While the 1867
Public School Act of Tennessee is the first law in the state to enact legislation that codified a separation based on
racialized group, many historians argue that the time period did not begin until after the Reconstruction Era
officially ended in 1877. However, at least ten laws passed in Tennessee prior to 1877 that included language
explicitly segregating rights by racialized group, therefore it could be argued that the Jim Crow Era in Tennessee did
in fact begin in 1867. “(1866) Jim Crow Laws: Tennessee, 1866-1955,” BlackPast, last modified January 3, 2011,
https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/jim-crow-laws-tennessee-1866-1955/.
63
Phillips, “Education of Blacks,” 108.
64
Memphis and Nashville proved to be exceptions to this issue. Both cities were independently establishing
segregated public school systems for the White and Black populations at the time the 1867 law was passed and had
already allocated local funding to each without the need of a census. Phillips, “Education of Blacks,” 98-109.
21
revenue collected for education and other welfare systems remained low, which led to a slow
accumulation of the public school fund and left both the White and Black school systems
completely impoverished.
65
The economic frailty of the region was further exacerbated by
historically poor crop years in 1866 and 1867, due in part to the extensive demand for labor
following emancipation.
66
As a result, private donations from benevolent supporters slowed and
enrollment at the freedmen’s schools began to fluctuate. In another correspondence to General
Howard in 1869, Tennessee Superintendent of Education C.E. Compton reported a total of 9,000
pupils attending freedmen’s schools for the same year, 4,188 of which were male and 4,812 were
female.
67
While these numbers only represent a decrease of about eighty-four students since
Fisk’s report two years prior, they are indicative of Tennessee’s socio-political and economic
instability and its effect on the newly cemented public school system that served Black students
during this transitional time.
However, with property ownership now a possibility for Black Tennesseans, it was not
through the new public school system but rather small, independently funded schoolhouses that
Black education continued to steadily expand overall as the Bureau’s influence declined. A
combination of local Black community leaders, Christian missionary organizations, local
parishes, and White contributors helped build these schoolhouses across the state’s rural counties
to generate opportunities for primary education in Black farming communities. The eagerness to
gain an education was palpable among newly freed Black citizens, and many communities
sacrificed what little income they had to contribute to buying property and construction costs in
order to do so. As schools were built, enrollment grew, and many Black children had the
opportunity to attend school through sixth grade for the first time in areas where freedmen’s
schools were lacking.
68
Because these efforts were grassroots and locally driven, little data exists
to demonstrate the contribution rural private schools made to increase the literacy rate in Black
communities across Tennessee during the Reconstruction and early Jim Crow years alongside the
better documented freedmen’s schools. But it is said with certainty that private investment in
Black education in Tennessee outlasted that of the Bureau, and such would remain its primary
driver well into the twentieth century.
65
Fleming, “Elementary,” 2007.
66
Phillips, “Education of Blacks,” 102; McKenzie, “The Freedmen,” 64.
67
Swint, “Reports from Educational Agents,” 153.
68
Phillips, “Education of Blacks,” 98-100, 101.
22
In 1870, Black Americans received the right to vote at the federal level with the passage
of the Fifteenth Amendment. Tennessee, however, refused to ratify the new constitutional
legislation, in part because the state had already passed a law three years prior that afforded
Black citizens the right to vote, and thus legislators felt it unnecessary since statewide elections
were already being held with Black voters included.
69
That same year, Tennessee’s constitution
was once again revised, this time permanently abolishing slavery in the state.
70
But along with
notable advancements in the legislation came several stipulations aimed toward Black
Americans, such as the poll tax. This provision targeted lesser income citizens, forcing them to
pay an income-based tax in order to vote, which many, especially lower-earning Black citizens,
could not afford.
71
Other stipulations were less vague in rhetoric and directly targeted Black
Tennesseans, among them the prohibition of interatrial marriage, the inability to ride streetcar
lines that serviced White citizens, and the confirmation that “no school established or aided” by
state funds “shall allow white and negro children to be received as scholars together in the same
school.”
72
Segregation had been further enshrined into the legal doctrine of the state, enforceable
by government agencies, and therefore was now the societal norm between Black and White
Tennesseans.
After the constitutional revision in February 1870, public education in Tennessee started
to standardize. Freedmen’s Bureau officials began to relinquish control of schools established
before and during the Civil War years to the public school system. School officials at the county
level assumed responsibility for public education, but because school funds were scarce or non-
existent, especially in the rural counties of West and Middle Tennessee, many superintendents
sought aid from the Bureau for funds to build schoolhouses for Black children. Teachers at Black
schools regularly petitioned the Bureau to pay their salaries, citing they had received little or no
pay from the destitute public school system. Bureau agents did what little they could to provide
funding for both school construction and teachers’ pay, but support ceased in the fall of 1870
69
It would not be until April 2, 1997, 127 years later, that Tennessee finally ratified the 15
th
Amendment. Lauder,
“Black Vote,” 2010.
70
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014.
71
Although the poll tax in Tennessee and many other southern states targeted both lesser income Black and white
citizens as well as women, statewide provisions were ultimately designed to keep Black men from voting. Miranda
Fraley-Rhodes, “When Paying a Poll Tax in Tennessee was the Norm,” Tennessee State Museum, last modified
April 13, 2022, https://tnmuseum.org/Stories/posts/when-paying-a-poll-tax-in-tennessee-was-the-
norm?locale=en_us.
72
Tennessee Const. art.11, §12, §14, 1870.
23
when the Freedmen’s Bureau ended its educational work after most southern states had
reintegrated into the Union and established public school systems that included education for
Black students. As a result, the federal government felt Reconstruction efforts were coming to an
end, and the Bureau’s program to support education was one of the first to be suspended. When
the Freedmen’s Bureau formally ended all Reconstruction programs in 1872, Black Tennesseans,
who now had the ability to own property, owned fifty-five buildings and grounds for the 106
freedmen’s schools that had been established in the state.
73
From the 1870 constitutional revision until the turn of the twentieth century, a series of
education statutes organized and reinforced the segregated dual-school system in Tennessee. In
1873, legislators passed an education reform act that became the parent act for Tennessee’s
public schools system. The act was introduced following increased public support for the
government to allocate funding to public schools in order to reduce the high rate of illiteracy in
the state.
74
With this funding, the act “provided that public schools should be free to all children
residing within the school district; and that white and colored children should not be taught in the
same school, but in separate schools, under the same regulations as to management, usefulness,
and efficiency.”
75
This ruling was significant because it mandated some semblance of equality
between Black and White schools in curriculum, operations, and facilities infrastructure. The
phrase “separate but equal” would not come into the vernacular until over two decades later in
1896 when the Supreme Court upheld state-imposed Jim Crow laws across the South by ruling
that any legislation which codified racial segregation did not violate the U.S. Constitution “if the
civil and political rights of both races be equal.”
76
The Plessy v. Ferguson decision demarcated
the beginning of the legally segregated Jim Crow Era in the South, which set the region on a
trajectory of discriminatory lawmaking for the next half-century. But the 1873 Public School Act
in Tennessee foreshadowed the sentiments of the Supreme Court’s decision because it was the
first time the state’s general assembly constituted parity between the two school systems,
essentially establishing the “separate but equal” ethos in no implicit terms twenty-three years
prior to the ruling.
73
Phillips, “Education of Blacks,” 101-105.
74
Dick B. Clough, “Teacher Institutes in Tennessee, 1870-1900,” Tennessee Historical Quarterly, 31, no. 1: 61.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/42623282.
75
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 16-17.
76
Justice Henry Brown majority opinion, Plessy v. Ferguson, Judgement, Decided May 18, 1896; Records of the
Supreme Court of the United States, Record Group 267; Plessy v. Ferguson, 163, #15248, National Archives.
24
In 1885, more changes were made to the segregated public school system. In that year, a
law passed to expand education beyond the primary level. Secondary schools and high schools
were incorporated into the public school system, but only urban areas were able to financially
support the expansion with tax revenue. Meanwhile, rural areas continued to recuperate
financially from the Civil War.
77
Additional education laws passed in 1891 and 1899 that
encouraged counties to build facilities for primary and secondary-level education, and to open
high schools throughout the districts, with which most counties complied. Another law passed in
1901 that further secured the segregation of public education by prohibiting teachers from
instructing pupils of a different racialized group.
78
As education historian Mary Hoffschwelle
explains, “while this cemented the separation of public education by race, it also reflected the
reality of African Americans’ successful campaigns to secure black teachers and staffs for their
schools. They strongly believed that black educators not only better understood their children’s
needs but would serve as mentors and role models for black leadership.”
79
And so as public
education opportunities expanded for Black communities in the decades following the War, so
too did their ability to utilize the segregated system for their own prosperity.
The Reconstruction Era in Tennessee was complicated. It was progressive for its time in
that the state’s post-war legislation regarding public education not only established new
opportunities for Black students without the enforcement of the federal government, but
mandated uniformity between the quality of education for both the Black and White systems
more than two decades before Plessy v. Ferguson mandated such equality. But the establishment
of two systems at all was indicative of White sentiments at the time, which inherently placed
Black schools in a position of inequity based solely on the construct of racialized groups.
Subsequent education laws that expanded education for Black students beyond the primary years
also carried requirements that only further entrenched segregation deeper into the fabric of
societal normality. Despite provisions of sameness codified in the state constitution, Black
schools remained poor and underfunded at the turn of the century as a result of discriminatory
practices at the local level. The fundamental inequity established by the segregated school
77
Fleming, “Elementary,” 2007.
78
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014.
79
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014.
25
system further compounded the lack of resources Black schools received in comparison to its
White counterparts, a problem that many scholars would agree persists today.
80
But even with underfunded programs and neglected facilities, Black Tennesseans
fostered a pride in education that White communities took for granted. Both the freedmen’s
schools and independently operated schoolhouses created space in education for Black students
for the first time. Although the threat of violence was ever present and the spaces created were
never truly secure, the ability to go to a physical place to learn propelled the self-help ethos
among rural Black communities, which would reflect in their economic mobility in the century
following the Civil War. At the turn of the century, enrollment in the state reflected the
willingness to learn and the sacrifices made to gain an education for the former enslaved
population and young generation of free Black Tennesseans. Enrollment consistently increased,
and by 1900 about 55% of Black children were enrolled in school compared to 69% of White
children. This percentage was up from the 44% of Black students and 58% of White students in
1879. From the modern perspective, segregation proved to be a flawed system in all respects. But
it was trivial for many rural Black Tennesseans who welcomed any opportunity at all to receive
an education. “Without embracing the ideology behind it,” historian Mary Hoffschwelle
illustrates, “black Tennesseans turned segregation to their own purpose: to create positive
community institutions that supported their children and developed the leadership potential of
black educators.” In the early decades of the twentieth century, these institutions saw significant
growth with the support of a new generation of partnerships: outside philanthropic funds.
81
Philanthropic Investment in Black Education
In 1901, the Southern Education Board (SEB) was established as the executive branch of
the Conference for Education in the South. Made up of a coalition of both southern and northern
80
Many of Americans public school systems, particularly those in the South, continue to suffer from an inequitable
distribution of resources that stems from systemic racism codified in American legislation in this time period. To
learn more about the ongoing efforts to deconstruct racism and inequity in American schools, especially at the
financial level, Bruce D. Baker’s works have proven instrumental: Bruce D Baker, Educational Inequality and
School Finance: Why Money Matters for America's Students (United States: Harvard Education Press, 2018).
81
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014. Simultaneous to the advancement of Black public schools
was the initiative to establish teacher training schools across the state, known as “normal schools.” By 1909,
Tennessee had established four normal schools, three of which trained White students and one, Tennessee
Agricultural and Industrial Normal School focused on Black vocational schooling, as was preferred by White
communities for Black education. All four of the normal schools evolved into colleges and universities over the
course of the twentieth century and remain in service today.
26
philanthropists, the SEB worked to promote public support for schools to provide students’ a
better education, primarily in rural areas. The purpose of the coalition was to move the South
past its tarnished reputation after the Civil War, with the hope that public education would solve
the complex problems of poverty, ignorance, and racial tension in the region.
82
In Tennessee, the
SEB played a role in passing the instrumental 1909 General Education Act, which set aside a
quarter of the state’s gross revenue for public education, 61% of which would be allocated back
to counties based on their scholastic populations. But there was no provision in the law that
required revenue be distributed equitably between White and Black schools, and so many
counties simply used the state funds they received to benefit only White institutions.
83
White
property owners continued to oppose tax-generated funding for Black schools, arguing that since
many Black Tennesseans did not own land, they did not pay their fair share of the taxes and were
therefore less deserving of adequate support for their schools. Of course, these arguments
discounted the poll tax and property tax many Black Tennesseans did pay, and completely failed
to recognize why most Black Tennesseans did not own property in the first place.
84
Similarly, the SEB played by the rules of the Jim Crow Era, and thus contributed to the
disenfranchisement of Black communities by appropriating most of its funding toward the
advancement of rural White schools on the belief that education combined with work would
naturally overcome ignorance and prejudice in the South. But regardless of its passive attitude
toward racialism, the SEB did play a major role in normalizing private investment in public
education, creating an “educational awakening” in the first few decades of the twentieth century,
as described by historian Louis R. Harlan.
At a time when the South was economically
unprepared to support one White system, much less a dual-school segregated system, outside
philanthropies became the standard for financial support. In its thirteen years of work, the SEB
had successfully ushered in a period of philanthropic investment that would eventually make a
marked difference in the quality of Black education for Tennesseans for the next three decades.
85
82
Louis R. Harlan, “The Southern Education Board and the Race Issue in Public Education,” The Journal of
Southern History 23, no. 2 (1957): 189-202, https://doi.org/10.2307/2955313.
83
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014.
84
Williams, Self-Taught, 173.
85
Harlan, “Southern Education Board,” 189, 200-201.
27
The Peabody Fund
Among the first philanthropies to establish a presence in Tennessee was the Peabody
Education Fund. Established by Massachusetts philanthropist George Peabody in 1867, the
organization spent a total of $1.5 million on southern education during its thirty year tenure,
primarily for rural White schools. But the Peabody Fund was significant in its contribution to
Black education because of its special interest in allocating funding toward establishing normal
schools, institutions that trained teachers in all areas of academics but with a primary focus on
industrial training.
86
The philanthropy donated monies to help set up several “teacher institutes”
in Tennessee, and the founder’s own George Peabody College for Teachers in Nashville was one
of the predominate institutions at the time. As a result of the vigorous campaign to establish
teacher’s training schools in the state, “Tennessee pioneered a movement for programs of
industrial education, including agricultural and mechanical pursuits in the nation,” setting a
precedent for other southern states, according to scholar Dick B. Clough.
By 1891, twenty-four teacher training institutions were operating statewide, eighteen of
which were for White teachers and six for Black teachers.
87
Overall, the Fund distributed only
about 18-30% of its equity to Black schools, the majority of which was given to Black normal
schools and a few scholarships for the education of Black teachers.
88
Despite its inequitable
distribution among Black and White schools and “separate but equal” ethos, the Peabody Fund
laid the groundwork in the effort to standardize training for rural school teachers, an imperative
advancement that generated qualified Black teachers to teach at public schools throughout the
state. In 1914, the Peabody Educational Fund dissolved, and its remaining assets, valued at
around $350,000, were transferred to the Slater Fund.
89
The Slater Fund
The John F. Slater Fund for the Education of Freedmen was a financial endowment first
established in 1882 by John Fox Slater. It was the first philanthropic institution dedicated solely
to the advancement of Black education in the South. Initially, the Fund began with a $1 million
86
Earle H. West, “The Peabody Education Fund and Negro Education, 1867-1880,” History of Education Quarterly
6, no. 2 (1966): 3-21, https://doi.org/10.2307/367416.
87
Clough, “Teacher Institutes,” 62, 65, 71.
88
West, “Peabody Education Fund,” 12.
89
Thomas Beane Stitely, “Bridging the Gap: A History of the Rosenwald Fund in the Development of Rural Negro
Schools in Tennessee 1912-1932,” (Master’s thesis, George Peabody College for Teachers, 1975), 6.
28
dollar donation from Slater, with the purpose of “uplifting the lately emancipated population of
the Southern States and their posterity by conferring on them the blessings of Christian
education.”
90
Like the Peabody Fund, the Slater Fund took specific interest in industrial training
by siphoning funding toward the establishment of normal schools that trained teachers. But
beginning in the first decades of the twentieth century, the Slater Fund also made significant
contributions to support county “training schools” for Black students, secondary schools that
embraced the industrial training curriculum. The first training school established with financing
from the Slater Fund was the Fayette County Training School in 1916 in Somerville, Tennessee.
By the 1920s, many county training schools established with Slater funding grew to include high
school grades with full academic programs such as science and liberal arts curriculums in
addition to the core vocational training.
91
As education historian Mary Hoffschwelle points out,
“these vocational schools were often the first and only secondary schools for black students and
provided the basis for proper high schools.”
92
Simultaneously, the Slater Fund began subsidizing
salaries for teachers in 1910, a maneuver to offset the poor pay Black teachers earned in
comparison to White teachers from county school boards.
93
Eventually the Slater Fund was
absorbed into the work of the General Education Board (GEB), but the organization had a
profound impact in bolstering Black education in the early twentieth century, having established
twenty-two county training schools for Black students in Tennessee alone at the time of its
closure.
The Jeanes Fund
Founded in 1905 by quaker philanthropist Anna T. Jeanes of Philadelphia, the Jeanes
Fund was a trust created to distribute funds to assist rural schools for Black students in states
across the South. Unlike other contemporary philanthropic organizations that funded and
operated various programs, the Jeanes Fund focused its efforts entirely on paying the salaries of
Black teachers who advocated for industrial training and school improvement at the county level.
They did so by offering grants to counties that hired a supervising industrial teacher for rural
90
Monroe N. Work, Negro Yearbook: And Annual Encyclopedia of the Negro (Tuskegee: Tuskegee Institute, 1913):
181.
91
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014.
92
Mary S. Hoffschwelle, “General Education Board (GEB),” Tennessee Encyclopedia (Nashville: Tennessee
Historical Society, 2017), accessed November 2, 2022, http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/general-education-
board-geb/.
93
Stitely, “Bridging the Gap,” 7.
29
Black schools, and the funding was then used by the county to supplement those teachers’
salaries. Jeanes teachers, as they came to be known, supervised the curriculum of industrial
schools in rural counties across Tennessee, their work evolving from vocational supervision to
instructional and curriculum supervision for Black schools in the Fund’s later years. The
presence of Jeanes teachers in Tennessee communities spanned from 1909-1959, and the
foundation operated primarily under the umbrella of the General Education Board during its
tenure.
94
(Figure 1.2)
Figure 1.2: Black men and women, probably Jeanes teachers, standing on the steps of a wooden school building in
Calhoun County, Alabama, 1915. Anna T. Jeanes Foundation Photograph Album Collection, Alabama Department
of Archives and History.
The General Education Board
The General Education Board (GEB) was one of the leading philanthropic foundations in
the twentieth century to contribute to Black education, with substantial contributions in
Tennessee specifically. Founded in 1902 by John D. Rockefeller Sr., the Board was inspired by
John D. Rockefeller Jr.’s tour of industrial schools in the South one year prior, which produced a
report on the needs of rural Black schools. The GEB was created to address these issues, initially
focusing on improving education for both Black and White students by broadening state
94
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014; Hoffschwelle, “General Education Board,” 2017.
30
education departments across the South.
95
The Board tended to allocate funding directly through
the state’s public school system rather than making small donations at the local level. By doing
so, the foundation was able to streamline its funding and that of other foundations directly into
the Black public school system. As a result, the GEB was instrumental in subsidizing the salaries
for rural school supervisors and teachers at the local level, and in creating job opportunities and
education programs at the state level.
96
In 1914, the GEB took over the Southern Education Board’s programs and continued its
support for both Black and White teachers in the Tennessee Department of Public Instruction. In
the same year, the Board appointed Tennessee’s first school agent responsible for all the state’s
educational programs for Black students. But in keeping with the status quo of the time,
Tennessee’s first “Negro State Agent” was a White male educator named Samuel L. Smith. In
1919, Tennessee was able to hire an agent for secondary education with GEB funding. Later in
1928, the state added a Division of Schoolhouse Planning, funded entirely with GEB support.
97
Like its counterparts, the GEB did little to change the focus on industrial education that had now
become the standard curriculum for Black students in rural Tennessee. But it did play a major
role in subsidizing, evaluating, and monitoring the efficiency and quality of education that rural
Black students received. When the GEB dissolved in 1964, it had appropriated a shocking
$324.6 million dollars to various programs across the South, more than $60 million of which was
spent directly on Black education.
98
Interest among benefactors in the cause for Black education throughout the South
continued to increase in the first few decades of the twentieth century, but no philanthropic
foundation would be as impactful as the Rosenwald Fund. While other foundations bolstered
teacher training and salaries and made contributions to support the Black public school system at
large, it was through the Rosenwald Fund that over 5,000 schoolhouses were built across the
95
Hoffschwelle, “General Education Board,” 2017.
96
Stitely, “Bridging the Gap,” 7.
97
Hoffschwelle, “General Education Board,” 2017.
98
Barry Goldberg, Barbara Shubinski, “Black Education and Rockefeller Philanthropy from the Jim Crow South to
the Civil Rights Era,” Rockefeller Archive Center, last modified September 11, 2020, accessed November 2, 2022,
https://resource.rockarch.org/story/black-education-and-rockefeller-philanthropy-from-the-jim-crow-south-to-the-
civil-rights-era/. This number reflects funding allocated not just to Black secondary and high schools, but to colleges
and universities as well. The GEB gave over $5.2 million to Fisk University between 1905-1952, and made other
contributions to Black colleges in the state as well. Hoffschwelle, “General Education Board,” 2017.
31
American South between 1911-1932.
99
For the first time, financial efforts were directed
specifically toward the built environment, ensuring rural students had a safe and well-equipped
place to attend school. Public school architecture, financing, and programming became
standardized with Rosenwald funding, a monumental move which gave Black communities more
autonomy over the structure of their education system. The following chapter details the
structure of the Rosenwald Fund rural schools program and its subsequent legacy in creating
places of meaning for rural Black communities in Tennessee.
99
“Rosenwald Schools,” National Trust for Historic Places, last modified. January 21, 2022, accessed November 4,
2022, https://savingplaces.org/places/rosenwald-schools.
32
Chapter 2. The Rosenwald Fund and its Rural Schools Program
The Founding Partners of the Rural School Building Program
Julius Rosenwald and the Philanthropic Mindset
To understand the ethos of the later Rosenwald Fund (Fund), it is first imperative to
understand that of its founder, Julius Rosenwald. Rosenwald was born in 1862 and grew up in
Springfield, Illinois as the son of German Jewish immigrants. He spent his early years learning
his family’s clothing business both at home and in New York City. After several clothing
business endeavors in Manhattan and Chicago early in his career, Rosenwald was offered the
opportunity to invest in Sears, Roebuck and Company in 1895 at age thirty-three where he soon
became Vice President. One year later, Rosenwald had taken on the company’s management on
a full-time basis. In 1908, Rosenwald became President of Sears, Roebuck and Company and
reorganized its operations to prioritize customer service over advertising campaigns. As his
success grew in the first decade of the twentieth century, Rosenwald chartered a new course in
philanthropy, largely inspired by his wife Augusta and his rabbi Emil Hirsch.
100
A Progressive
spokesperson for Reform Judaism in America, Hirsch imparted to Rosenwald the belief that
capitalists and wealthy men had a special duty owed to society under the Jewish notion of
tzedakah, or charity. Hirsch convinced Rosenwald that with his great wealth came the obligation
to give back, citing that “…property entails duties, which establishes its rights. Charity is not a
voluntary concession on the part of the well-situated. It is a right to which the less fortunate are
entitled in justice.”
101
In 1910, after early contributions to Jane Addams’ Hull House and several Jewish
organizations in Chicago, Rosenwald turned his philanthropic attention to causes that supported
Black Americans. He first became energized by Booker T. Washington’s autobiography Up from
Slavery, within which Washington recounts the obstacles he faced as an enslaved person and his
journey in academia after emancipation. But most influential to Rosenwald was the biography of
the late Southern Railway executive William H. Baldwin Jr., who headed the General Education
Board (GEB) and had served on the Board of Trustees for the Tuskegee Institute. As was the
100
Mary S. Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools of the American South (Gainesville, FL: University Press of
Florida, 2006): 26-30.
101
Peter M. Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald: The Man Who Built Sears Roebuck and Advanced the Cause of Black
Education in the American South, (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006): 53-54.
33
racialized view at the time, Baldwin argued that Black southerners should remain working in
rural towns in the South, and therefore needed support to improve their situation. He suggested
that building vocational schools which also served as community social centers may be able to
help with this endeavor. It is unclear exactly what about Baldwin’s writing motivated
Rosenwald, but as his grandson and biographer Peter M. Ascoli writes, “perhaps the fact
Baldwin had devoted time as well as money to his philanthropic efforts on behalf of blacks”
struck a chord with Rosenwald’s desire and responsibility as a fellow wealthy man to give back
to underprivileged communities as Rabbi Hirsch had taught. After his initial financial
contributions to help establish twenty-six Black YMCA’s across the U.S., Rosenwald turned his
attention to the cause for Black education in the South and began seeking partnerships to help
accomplish his philanthropic duties.
102
Booker T. Washington and the Tuskegee Philosophy
The partnership that Julius Rosenwald would soon find himself in was with prolific Black
leader and author Booker T. Washington. Born into slavery in 1856, Washington self-educated
after his liberation and soon became a prominent businessman, educator, and advocate among
the Black elite. On the request of Hampton Institute President Samuel C. Armstrong, he became
the first principal at Alabama’s Tuskegee Normal School for Colored Teachers beginning in
1881. Only one year later, Washington purchased one hundred acres of a former plantation’s
property and relocated the school, renaming it the Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, or
Tuskegee Institute (Tuskegee) as it was commonly called. Tuskegee’s curriculum focused
heavily on industrial training with an emphasis on Christian values and morality, and students
learned to teach elementary and secondary subjects like arithmetic and language arts. The
structure of the curriculum closely resembled that of other contemporary Black normal schools
throughout the South. But unlike many others, Tuskegee Institute would grow to include an
extension school and various academic departments, eventually becoming one of the South’s
premier HBCU’s by the late twentieth century.
103
102
Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 78-79; Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 27-28.
103
Tuskegee Institute was renamed Tuskegee University in 1985. Shannon Gary, “Tuskegee University,”
Encyclopedia of Alabama (Montgomery: Alabama Humanities Alliance, 2008) last modified September 2, 2021,
accessed November 2, 2022, http://encyclopediaofalabama.org/article/h-1583.
34
Tuskegee’s early success was due in part to Washington’s philosophy about how best to
uplift the Black racialized group. He believed that for Black Americans to move past slavery,
they needed an education in industrial training to learn trade skills that would lead to tangible job
opportunities and thus provide the springboard for their upward economic mobility. Washington
felt this philosophy was especially beneficial to rural southern Black Americans, many of whom
found themselves in sharecropping and trade fields already. Contrary to his contemporary,
Professor W.E.B. Du Bois, the racialized people’s greatest advocate for intellectual pursuits and
liberal arts training at the time, “Washington advocated a gradualist rather than a radical
approach to improving conditions for blacks in the post-Emancipation period, with hard work
and self-help as the primary channels to economic and social advancement.”
104
As a result of this
ethos, Tuskegee’s expansive industrial curriculum included training for men and women in thirty
three trades such as agriculture, carpentry, blacksmithing, machinery, brick masonry, tailoring,
sewing, dressmaking, basketry, housekeeping, cooking, and nursing, and many others.
105
After
their training, Washington encouraged Tuskegee students “to return to the plantation districts and
show the people there how to put new energy and new ideas into farming as well as into the
intellectual and moral and religious life of the people.”
106
It was his hope that graduates of
Tuskegee and other Black institutions would find not only practicality, but dignity and pride in
the labor skills they learned and that their enslaved ancestors had mastered.
107
Washington’s philosophy gained traction across the United States, and he soon became a
skilled fundraiser for the Tuskegee Institute. He often travelled to northern cities like Boston,
New York, and Philadelphia to recruit Black educators and meet with investors to help expand
upon his work at the school, soliciting large donations from both Black and White individuals
and organizations during his tenure. Washington’s advocacy for self-reliance among Black
individuals was attractive to Progressive White philanthropists, and he was able to persuade
many wealthy White politicians and industry leaders to donate to Tuskegee by appealing to their
segregationist values and theories about Black mobility during the Jim Crow Era. Among the
104
“Robert R. Taylor,” MIT Black History, accessed November 8, 2022,
https://www.blackhistory.mit.edu/story/robert-r-taylor.
105
Booker T. Washington, Industrial Education for the Negro, (South Carolina: CreateSpace Independent Pub. 2013
[1903]).
106
Booker T. Washington, Up From Slavery, Dover Thrift Editions (New York: NY: Dover Publications, 1995
[1901]): 127.
107
Washington, “Industrial Education,” 2013 [1903].
35
supporters of Tuskegee were prominent businessmen J.P. Morgan, Collis P. Huntington, Andrew
Carnegie, and John D. Rockefeller.
108
Washington argued, and they agreed, that the best way to
ensure equal rights for Black Americans was to exhibit “industry, thrift, intelligence, and
property.”
109
As Rosenwald historian Mary Hoffschwelle points out, “this strategy of
accommodating education to white sentiment undermined Washington’s intellectual argument
for industrial education, yet it was the basis for his popularity.”
110
While the bootstrap mentality was popular among Washington’s White allies, many
Black leaders, including Professor Du Bois, felt that Washington’s strategy was too
accommodating of the White supremacist status quo and belittled the intellect of former enslaved
persons and the young free generation, reducing their worth to repeated patterns of labor that
existed during the years of enslavement.
111
But despite his criticism and often radically opposing
views, Du Bois recognized Washington as one of the first true Black intellectuals in the United
States who had the best intentions for the Black racialized group in mind, and both educators
agreed that education played a pivotal role in Black mobility. Du Bois was particularly
impressed with Washington’s successful partnership with philanthropist Julius Rosenwald to
create rural schools across the American South, a partnership through which Washington’s self-
help philosophy would spread throughout the region.
112
108
Robert J. Norrell, Up From History: The Life of Booker T. Washington (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
2008): 273-275.
109
Booker T. Washington, Louis R. Harlan, John W. Blassingame, The Booker T. Washington Papers: Volume 1,
The Autobiographical Writings, (Champaign, Illinois: University of Illinois Press, 1972): 68.
110
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 14.
111
Margot Lester, “Q&A: Ellen Weiss on Robert R. Taylor,” Architect Magazine, March 2, 2012,
https://www.architectmagazine.com/design/q-a-ellen-weiss-on-robert-r-taylor_o.
112
Tom Hanchett, “Saving the South’s Rosenwald Schools,” History South, accessed November 8, 2022.
https://www.historysouth.org/schoolhistory/. Although DuBois argued against Washington’s self-help and industrial
centered ethos, his own efforts were focused primary on collegiate education. Because of this, he recognized the
accomplishments of Washington in establishing primary and secondary education opportunities for Black
southerners. Perhaps the biggest disagreement between Washington and Du Bois was over the issue of black
suffrage. Du Bois believed that the Black vote was necessary to fully free the Black racialized group, whereas
Washington felt Du Bois agitation did more harm than good in advancing Black freedoms because it only upset
southern Whites more. “History of Black Education: Washington and DuBois,” Kenyon College, accessed
November 8, 2022,
https://www2.kenyon.edu/Depts/Amerstud/blackhistoryatkenyon/Individual%20Pages/Washington%20and%20DuB
ois.htm. To learn more about Du Bois’ opinions on the Work of Booker T. Washington, see: W.E.B. Du Bois, The
Souls of Black Folk (Chicago: A.C. McClurg & Co., 1903): 43-59, “Of Mr. Booker T. Washington and Others.”
36
The Early Years at Tuskegee: Establishing the Rural Schools Program and its Architecture
The Macon County Project and Early Experimentation, 1905-1910
Washington was already invested in the cause of Black rural education even before his
collaboration with Rosenwald began. Beginning in 1905, he embarked on the first initiative to
erect small schoolhouse buildings through one of the many ancillary community programs of the
Tuskegee Institute. Headed by Washington and his colleague Clinton J. Calloway, Director of
Tuskegee’s Extension Department, an experimental program was created to bring funding and
infrastructure to disenfranchised rural Black students in Macon County, Alabama. Tuskegee’s
home county, the program provided students an industrial education that paralleled Washington’s
ethos of self-help success that flourished at Tuskegee. The program was deemed the Macon
County Project, and it was funded by one of Washington’s benefactors, Henry Huttleston Rogers
of Standard Oil Company. Additional support came from the Jeanes Fund and Macon County’s
Black community, which was excited to build public schools after the original Black county
schools had suffered financial ruin and violence from White residents in previous decades.
Calloway, who took charge of the experiment, mounted an expansive campaign to
establish schools throughout Macon County by appealing to community members and White
patrons with the allure of Rogers and Jeanes funding to match their contributions. By 1910,
forty-six total schools had been constructed in districts throughout the County, each costing
about $700. Thanks to Calloway’s advertising campaign, many Black farming families moved to
Macon County in search of agricultural opportunities within close proximity to the best Black
schools in the state. When Rogers passed away, funding from his family soon ended, and the
success of the Macon County project left Washington in search of a new benefactor to help
expand the program beyond the boundaries of Macon County.
113
Formulating a Partnership and Initial Investment in Rural Schools, 1911-1912
Washington’s hunt for financial support took him to northern cities including Chicago,
where the budding philanthropist Julius Rosenwald hosted a luncheon for Washington at the
Blackstone Hotel on May 18, 1911. After their first meeting and a series of correspondences,
Rosenwald visited Tuskegee by Washington’s invitation in the fall of the same year. Rosenwald
113
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 24-26; Allen W. Jones, “Voices for Improving Rural Life: Alabama’s
Black Agricultural Press, 1890-1965,” Agricultural History 58, no. 3 (1984): 209-220,
http://www.jstor.org/stable/3743075.
37
was accompanied by Rabbi Hirsch and L. Wilbur Messer, general secretary of the Young Men’s
Christian Association of Chicago who had connected the philanthropist with the “Wizard of
Tuskegee.” Washington, ever the salesman, appealed to Rosenwald’s desire to give back by
assuring him that the work at Tuskegee was a noble cause for the advancement of the Black
racialized group through industrial training and moral discipline. The trip lasted only four days,
but was packed with a schedule of campus tours and introductions to faculty members and
students. When he returned to Chicago, Rosenwald told a reporter, “I don’t believe there is a
white industrial school in America or anywhere that compares to Mr. Washington’s at
Tuskegee.”
114
But despite Rosenwald’s Progressive willingness to support Black education, Washington
knew his potential benefactor’s motivation was similar to that of other philanthropists that were
already heavily invested in the cause for Black education at the time. He was aware that
Rosenwald’s intentions were largely premised on the belief that education for Black Americans
would combat illiteracy and ignorance, therefore allowing Black citizens to reach their full
potential in the job market and avoid a life of poverty and potentially, crime. Rosenwald, like
many of his Progressive White peers, felt “the concept of citizenship for black Americans was
dependent on blacks’ class and access to education, limiting its potential to help blacks achieve
full equality.” Instead of rejecting the mentality of the White elites, Washington embraced it as
he had with donors prior and was able to convince Rosenwald to invest in Tuskegee through the
persuasive argument that the school program was an effort for Black southerners to attain fair
treatment and economic advancement, rather than civil rights. Rosenwald was so persuaded by
Washington’s rhetoric that he joined Tuskegee’s Board of Trustees in December 1911, a move
that officially cemented their partnership.
115
After a series of correspondences, meetings, trips, and donations from Rosenwald directly
to Tuskegee Institute, the financial relationship and budding friendship between the
philanthropist and Washington shifted toward the cause for rural education, specifically. In July
1912, Rosenwald wrote to Washington, asking the educator, “if you had $25,000 to distribute
among institutions which are offshoots from Tuskegee or doing similar work to Tuskegee, how
114
University of Chicago Library, Julius Rosenwald Papers, scrapbook 14, 37, Chicago Tribune, October 29, 1911,
quoted in Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 89.
115
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 26-30; Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 89.
38
would you divide it?”
116
Rosenwald’s inquiry created the perfect opportunity for Washington to
outline his plan to resurrect the Macon County Project on a wider scale to his new benefactor.
Eagerly, Washington responded to Rosenwald in a series of letters over the next few months. He
cleverly framed his idea for a rural school building program as an experiment without
mentioning previous investors like Rogers, knowing that Rosenwald would be most interested in
a program he could call his own. In so many words, Washington detailed his observations of the
successes of the program in Macon County and provided proof that Calloway and the Tuskegee
Extension Department’s work building rural schools in Alabama had indeed united rural Black
communities over the idea of school improvement via the self-help philosophy. To support his
argument that better school facilities in rural areas were of paramount importance to create a
public school system that paralleled that of urban areas, Washington described the current state
of the Black schools in the greater rural South, writing to Rosenwald that if he were to
implement a philanthropic program, “I should hope that the scheme would carry with it a plan
for building school-houses as well as extending the school terms. Many of the places in the
South where the schools are now taught are as bad as stables, and it is impossible for the teacher
to do efficient work in such places.”
117
He argued the importance of physical school facilities and
the necessary infrastructure to support them, contending that better school buildings create better
access to education and social spaces for Black and White southerners alike. Washington’s
stance paralleled that of Rosenwald, who also believed public spaces were imperative to the
progress of both racialized peoples, an attitude exemplified in his numerous YMCA building
projects.
Washington’s appeal to Rosenwald for a rural school building program was lengthy and
comprehensive. He explained the current situation in the South pertaining to discriminatory
funding and allocation of resources for public schools, proposed a Tuskegee leader be selected to
supervise allocation of Rosenwald’s contributions and handle relations with local White leaders,
and introduced the idea of extending school terms to attract better teachers supported by the
Jeanes Fund, among other ideas. But it was Washington’s recommendation to create a
partnership not only between Rosenwald, Tuskegee, other philanthropic funds, and local Black
116
Library of Congress, Washington Papers, reel 69, container 76, Julius Rosenwald to Washington, July 15, 1912,
quoted in Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 129.
117
Washington Papers, “Rosenwald, Julius 1912 July-Oct.,” box 76, reel 69, Special Correspondence, Washington
to Rosenwald, July 20, 1912, quoted in Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 32.
39
communities, but one that also included White public school officials that set a precedent for the
structure of the rural schools program moving forward. Knowing state agents held the purse
strings for local public school systems, Washington felt that including superintendents and
county officials would increase equitable distribution of funds and grow the program with less
resistance from White southerners than had been encountered by the Freedmen’s Bureau and
other supporters of Black schools in the past. Washington assured Rosenwald that entering such
a “joint-effort” would lay the foundation the program’s future success.
118
Once again persuaded by Washington’s thorough arguments, Rosenwald committed to his
$25,000 proposed donation, which was announced at his fiftieth birthday celebration on August
12, 1912. The donation was part of a larger contribution of $687,500 that Rosenwald dispersed
between various causes. But his donation to Tuskegee was particularly noteworthy as it was the
first philanthropic donation aimed directly at the advancement of southern Black education
through the construction of rural schools at a program-wide level.
119
Washington had proven
successful in his endeavor to acquire funding, and the quest to expand and improve the built
environment for rural Black students began.
Washington’s Proposal and the Rural School Experiment, 1912-1914
Once Rosenwald’s contribution was secured, the partners began to communicate about
the structure of the rural school building program. Both men knew they could incorporate
funding from other philanthropic organizations to support the financial burden of building rural
schools. They obtained a partnership with the Jeanes Fund, for example, to help supplement
teacher salaries and ensure quality of education remained strong in each rural school. Jeanes
teachers and supervisors also worked to support Rosenwald school building campaigns in their
local communities as the program grew. Later, the Slater Fund and General Education Board
helped provide funding for vocational training equipment at some of the program’s rural
schools.
120
Although additional investment was necessary to accomplish their operational goals,
the need for physical school facilities remained the focus of the initiative.
118
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 30-32.
119
Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 129, 133. Hoffschwelle The Rosenwald Schools, 33.
120
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 44, 59.
40
In August and September 1912, Washington sent Rosenwald another wave of ideas in an
initial letter followed by a new proposal that further detailed the plans for the program currently
in preparation at Tuskegee. In his correspondence, Washington petitioned Rosenwald to use
some of the funding from his birthday grant to create the experimental pilot program that would
help Washington, Calloway, and other Tuskegee leaders gauge the success of their school
building plan:
We are giving some careful, and I hope serious attention to the suggestion of making a
plan for the helping of colored people in the direction of small country schools. In
Connection with this idea, I am wondering if you would permit us to make an experiment
in the direction of building six school-houses at various points, preferably near here, so
that we can watch the experiment closely out of the special fund which you have set aside
for small schools.
121
Washington went on to detail the cost breakdown of the experiment’s school construction efforts,
writing that he and his colleagues at Tuskegee would be able to build each school with $2,800 of
unappropriated money from the initial donation, with each school costing about $350 of the
funds. In keeping with the ethos of self-reliance, he then reiterated the requirements from the
partners’ past correspondences that communities had to meet in order to obtain a Rosenwald
grant for new school construction, two of which created a template for how the Rosenwald Fund
would later operate until the school building program ended in 1932.
The first requirement communities had to meet was local support via donations of either
money or time, labor, and materials. Because each school in the experiment would cost about
$600 total to build, it was necessary for local Black communities to match the funding for their
own school construction. Neither Washington nor Rosenwald believed in handouts, and both
agreed the challenge-grant structure would incentivize communities to raise funds in
collaboration with local White supporters and school officials who saw value in erecting public
schoolhouses for Black students. Where lesser income Black southerners could not provide
financial contributions for a school, the program would encourage donations like materials and
labor to reinforce the need for local involvement in the physical building process, an idea that
stemmed from the bootstrap logic deeply engrained at Washington’s Tuskegee Institute and its
ancillary programs. Without local support, the financial ability to match philanthropic donations,
121
Washington Papers, “Rosenwald, Julius 1912 July-Oct.,” box 76, reel 69, Special Correspondence, Washington
to Rosenwald, 31 August and 12 September 1912, quoted in Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 33.
41
and the materials needed to construct a school, communities would not be eligible to receive a
Rosenwald grant. As a result, outreach, publicity campaigns, and grassroots community
engagement were vital tools to ensure the success of the program. Historian Peter Ascoli points
out the inherent discrimination of this requirement enacted by the Fund, which was not expected
of White communities to construct their own public schools:
…blacks who paid for Rosenwald schools were, in essence, being taxed twice, once
through taxation of services that were never performed, and the second time by giving
their own hard-earned funds for schools that state and local governments should have
provided in the first place…
Despite the obvious inequities woven into in the program’s framework, Ascoli continues that,
“the fact remains that at last local governments were [finally] doing something for black
education.”
122
The second community requirement to qualify for Rosenwald aid was that any school
built by the program had to be operated by the county public school system, rather than privately.
The requirement demonstrated Washington’s commitment to interracial partnerships. This
measure of his demanded cooperation between local Black communities and public school
officials and ensured later tax revenue would, in fact, be allocated to Black schools in the era of
Jim Crow discriminatory practices that permeated the distribution of public school funding. He
knew that for schools to qualify for state aid, they had to be deeded to the state. Washington’s
suggestion to enter a land-based partnership with White school boards exemplified his continued
dedication to collaborative efforts between the Black and White racialized groups in the cause of
advancing Black education. He believed that the partnership between rural Black communities
and the state would create more opportunities to build schoolhouses because involving White
officials and local landowners, rather than ostracizing them from the program’s efforts, would
progress the cause further with less opposition from White dissenters, and perhaps give officials
the sense of belief that they had actually done the work to build Black schools themselves. To
obtain grant funding, many local Black landowners across the South sold or donated their land
acquired after the Civil War to the state, a move that earned Washington some criticism among
rural Black landowners. Nonetheless, this requirement created opportunities for land-based
122
Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 152.
42
donations for the school building program and contributed to the overall advancement of public
rather than private education for Black southerners.
123
Anxious to lift the experiment out of development and into action, Washington concluded
his proposal by reiterating the importance of community and individual uplift for the Black
racialized people. His rhetoric reinforced the era’s Progressive beliefs, particularly that
“education was a public responsibility, and access to public education an essential right of
citizenship.” Both Washington and Rosenwald held this view, and therefore “expected public
funding in addition to community and philanthropic contributions” for the new school building
program.
124
Ultimately, Washington’s lengthy letter to the Chicago philanthropist implemented
several key principals that would mold the rural school building program, as epitomized by
Rosenwald scholar Mary Hoffschwelle:
First, physical structures—new school buildings—would provide the catalyst for further
educational improvements. Second, Rosenwald aid would provide an incentive for local
support, both private and public. Third, local support, both by black community members
and white school authorities, would renew and expand everyone’s commitment to black
children’s education. Consequently, community members could donate time, labor, and
material in lieu of or as supplements to cash contributions for the grant match, not only to
accommodate their meager cash resources but also to encourage their physical
participation in schoolhouse construction. White school officials, on the other hand, could
add a valuable property to their public school plant with only a small investment of
public funds. And fourth, community involvement would require expert leadership, in
this case a Tuskegee-appointed organizer who would provide the needed supervision and
coordination.
125
Rosenwald quickly accepted Washington’s proposal to erect six schools in three counties
neighboring Tuskegee Institute, and by the fall of 1912 the first experimental schools funded by
Rosenwald’s donation were in progress. All six schools were completed by the spring of 1914,
with the Loahopoka School in Lee County, Alabama being the first school built with Rosenwald
funding to be dedicated.
126
Until the summer of 1914, Washington and Calloway focused their
rural school building efforts entirely on monitoring their success in implementing Washington’s
principles. They sent multiple correspondences to Rosenwald over the course of the experiment,
123
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 30-53.
124
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 34-35, 30.
125
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 34.
126
S. L. Smith, Builders of Goodwill: The Story of the State Agents of Negro Education in the South, 1910 to 1950
(Nashville: Tennessee Book Company, 1950), 64.
43
including letters of appreciation and progress updates, photographs, papers written by Tuskegee
instructors about fundraising efforts in the selected Black communities, and a report by Clinton J.
Calloway with budgetary reports for the project.
127
After its two year incubation period, the
school experiment proved successful and subsequently set the framework for the expansion of
the school building program into a larger construction program that would soon take hold
throughout the rural South.
128
Growing the Program Beyond Alabama, 1914-1915
When Rosenwald saw the program’s early success, he was glad to donate more funding
to the cause. In June 1914, he agreed to contribute up to $30,000 to aid in constructing as many
as one hundred more school buildings over the next five years. Rosenwald’s second large
donation became a jumping off point for Tuskegee to move forward with a standard plan to erect
schoolhouses further from its reach. Although it had been in the works since the Chicago
philanthropist’s initial birthday donation, Washington and his colleagues at Tuskegee finally
completed the “Plan for Erection of Rural Schoolhouses” in the fall of 1914. The document was
intended to serve as an instruction manual for potential participating communities by outlining
the purpose of the Rosenwald-funded school building program and the necessary requirements to
acquire grant money. The document also acted as a “foundational document” for its program
leaders Booker T. Washington, Clinton J. Calloway, and other Tuskegee executive council
members at the Institute. The “Plan” was the first official document pertaining to the joint
partnership between Rosenwald and Washington that was meant for public circulation.
The “Plan” put into writing each of the ideas Washington had illustrated in his previous
correspondences to Rosenwald in a formal document. It first made clear that the Rosenwald
grant money was meant only to supplement efforts already initiated by local communities with
the support and approval of school officials. The document also summarized requirements
pertaining to the Jeanes teachers and state Negro school agents, and addressed grant expenses,
stating that Rosenwald funding would match donations already generated by the community, but
would be capped at $350 total per school. The document expanded opportunities for structures
with more than a one-teacher classroom which had been the standard for the first six schools
127
Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 138-139.
128
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 35, 41-42.
44
erected during the experimental phase, and extended the school year to approximately eight
months. Lastly, the “Plan” mandated that Tuskegee Extension Department officials approve all
proposed building plans to ensure a standard of design quality across the program’s schools.
The initial scope of the larger-scale program was to include additional Alabama counties
only, however the project quickly expanded on the advice of Washington’s peers and the sheer
volume of interest in Rosenwald funding after the “Plan” had been publicized. A flood of
correspondence arrived at Tuskegee from across the region that made claims for funding with
detailed descriptions of local communities’ urgent needs for school building facilities. Letters
were sent from a broad spectrum of petitioners including residents, ministers, teachers,
superintendents, and state officials. Washington’s aspirations for the program were coming to
fruition, and although this phase of the expansion still focused on Alabama schoolhouses,
Tuskegee authorized funding for a model school in Georgia and would soon review applications
from other neighboring states including Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and South Carolina.
Tennessee, however, would not yet benefit from Rosenwald funding, Washington having
believed that the cause for rural Black public education in the state was not quite as dire as other
states deeper in the South.
129
The inundation of applications made clear to Washington and Rosenwald that rural Black
communities were motivated to build better school facilities for their students and teachers and to
revive school building campaigns from the Reconstruction and Civil War eras. Because many
applications had been sent to Tuskegee by White school officials who embraced the idea of
building Black schools with combined public and private funding, the partners knew the
foundational structure of their program was a success. Rosenwald historian Peter Ascoli
elaborates, stating that “one could argue that it was not the actions taken by the usually timorous
General Education Board, but [Julius Rosenwald’s] challenge grants that finally mobilized local
governments to action.”
130
The new program received so much attention that even W.E.B. Du
Bois, Washington’s toughest critic, continually published updates on the Rosenwald building
program in his publication the Crisis, having been a supporter of the philanthropic partnership
and the building program’s mission to provide primary and secondary education to Black
129
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 41-47.
130
Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 152.
45
students across the South.
131
On his annual trip to Tuskegee in February 1915, Rosenwald, along
with forty-one guests, toured several rural schools in the vicinity of the Tuskegee Institute and
for the first time saw the fruits of his philanthropic work in action.
From this point forward, the Rosenwald school building program, as it had come to be
known, was primarily conducted by the right hand men of both partners. At Tuskegee, Clinton J.
Calloway oversaw the expansion of the program. Assisting his efforts was Booker T.
Washington Jr., who served as the program’s first Rosenwald building field agent, a new
position that would oversee grant allocations and construction at the local level using both Jeanes
and Rosenwald funding as the program grew.
132
In Chicago, Rosenwald passed along
supervising duties to William C. Graves, an assistant who had been helping him with the rural
school project correspondence.
133
Although Rosenwald and Washington continued their
correspondence and made all final decisions, this move marked a shift in the program, signaling
its growth and the need for more involvement on behalf of both parties.
Throughout 1915, the building program continued to expand, largely as a result of
Rosenwald’s visit to Tuskegee and its neighboring rural schools and his ensuing excitement
about the program. (Figure 2.1) In April, the supervisors extended Rosenwald benefits to
additional schools across Alabama and began to act on applications from other southern states,
Tennessee included. This move officially extended the Rosenwald school building program
across state lines and into the broader region of the American South. Hoffschwelle writes that
accepting only a small number of applications from out of state candidates set “a precedent for
the annual allocations of specific numbers of buildings to individual states that would become a
standard practice for the Rosenwald program.” Although the Rosenwald Fund would not
formally incorporate until several years later, it was the “Plan for Erection of Rural
Schoolhouses” and the program’s subsequent expansion that led to the birth of what then became
known as the “Rosenwald schools.”
134
Expressing gratitude to his benefactor, Washington
131
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 41-47; Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 141.
132
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 48-52. Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 143.
133
Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 142.
134
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 48-51. The “Plan for Erection of Rural Schoolhouses” was revised several
times in 1915 to address the requirements of Rosenwald Agents and clarify requirements for grant funding. To read
more about these changes, see: Mary S. Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools of the American South (Gainesville,
FL: University Press of Florida, 2006): 51-52.
46
expressed his sentiments regarding the significant gravity of the school building program in rural
communities:
It is impossible for us to describe in words the good that this schoolhouse building is
accomplishing—not only in providing people with comfortable school buildings who
never knew what a decent school building was before, but even in changing and
revolutionizing public sentiment in the South as far as Negro education is concerned.
135
Later correspondence from Rosenwald to his wife after another trip to Alabama mirrored
Washington’s affections, bolstering the philanthropist’s Progressive ideas about Black education
and the work being done through Tuskegee:
We went direct to the school [Tuskegee] but passed four new schools on the way—all
were waiting to welcome me and had signs ‘Welcome Mr. Rosenwald’—to school. I just
stopped long enough to go inside and to thank them for the reception. Such enthusiasm as
they evidenced! I am greatly pleased with this work. Not alone it helps them to help
themselves but it will serve the community in many ways for years.
136
Figure 2.1: Philanthropist and civic leader Julius Rosenwald (left) and Booker T. Washington (right), educator and
political leader at Tuskegee Institute, 22 February 1915. University of Chicago Photographic Archive, [apf1-07303],
Hanna Holborn Gray Special Collections Research Center, University of Chicago Library.
135
Library of Congress, Washington Papers, Washington to Julius Rosenwald, October 1, 1915, quoted in Ascoli,
Julius Rosenwald, 152.
136
University of Chicago Library, Julius Rosenwald Papers, box 54, folder 1, Werner Notes, “Julius Rosenwald to
Gussie.” November 12, 1915, quoted in Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 153.
47
The Design of the Rosenwald Schools
Perhaps the most significant element that characterized Rosenwald schools from the
program’s inception was their design and architectural features. In the Macon County Project and
initial Rosenwald rural school building experiment, good design was secondary to the outright
need for buildings at all. Similarly, as the program began to expand, the “Plan for Erection of
Rural Schoolhouses” offered almost no design instruction, although communities were required
to have their plans approved by Tuskegee. The primary concern was to construct as many school
buildings as possible at low cost. “The cheaper we can build these schoolhouses,” Washington
wrote, “the more Mr. Rosenwald is going to be encouraged to let us have additional money.”
137
Simultaneously, Washington expressed concern over erecting school buildings that may in fact
be better than White school facilities. He worried that if Black schools were architecturally
superior to White schools it may foster resentment toward the program and leave Rosenwald
schools at risk of arson attacks by hostile White communities, a terrifying recurrence in the
history of Black rural schools. As a result of his concerns, Washington employed Calloway in
the spring of 1913 to draft a brochure of guidelines to circulate in rural communities that
delineated architectural criteria and standards for constructing modestly designed school
buildings within the Rosenwald school building program.
138
While Washington and Calloway retain credit for their determination to bring industrial
education to Black children in the South, it is Tuskegee architect and Director of the Industrial
Program Robert Robinson Taylor who deserves acknowledgement for establishing the design
standard for the rural schools program at Tuskegee. Taylor believed that “for lack of a plan,” pre-
existing Black schools across the South “do not look well and are not conveniently arranged.”
139
He had already been working to change this, with sketch plans and drafted standards for one-,
two-, and three-room training schools in his early years at Tuskegee.
140
When the Rosenwald
school building experiment began, Washington asked Taylor to draft plans for a schoolhouse
design that could be built as a prototype for the Rosenwald partnership using the allotted $600
137
Alabama Department of Education Records, “Washington to Sibley, 7 December 1914, 5 January 1915, 26 May
1915, Sibley to Washington, 16 December 1914,” folder “W”, SG 15443, Rural School Agent Correspondence,
quoted in Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 52.
138
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 52. Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 150-151.
139
Ellen Weiss, Robert R. Taylor and Tuskegee: An African American Architect Designs for Booker T. Washington
(Montgomery, AL: NewSouth Books, 2012): 119-121.
140
Andrew Feiler, A Better Life for Their Children: Julius Rosenwald, Booker T. Washington, and the 4,978 Schools
That Changed America (Athens, GA: The University of Georgia Press, 2021):16–27.
48
per school. The plans were used to estimate manufacturing costs by Sears Roebuck engineers in
Chicago. When Rosenwald then suggested the schools be manufactured as kits for mass
production at a Sears warehouse, Washington—who had been encouraged by his philosophy of
self-help and both Calloway and Taylor’s persistent input that it would be cheaper to build
locally—told Rosenwald that communities must build the schools themselves to foster a sense of
belonging and to encourage locals to donate to school building efforts for needed construction
materials, rather than being handed the prefabricated resources.
141
Rosenwald agreed, a move
that exemplified his trust in Washington and his dedication to the program as a personal
philanthropic venture separate from his business interests.
142
Once again, Washington used his
skillful persuasion tactics to advance the ideology that bottom-up industrialization was the best
way forward for the Black racialized group.
When Calloway approached Taylor with Washington’s request for a formal pamphlet to
complement the “Plan for Erection of Rural Schoolhouses,” Taylor went to work on creating its
drawings. The project was a collaborative effort between Calloway, Taylor, notable agriculture
scientist George Washington Carver, and Alabama Negro school agent J.L. Sibley. The Negro
Rural School and Its Relation to the Community was finally published two years later in 1915.
The pamphlet contained architectural drawings by Taylor and his students in the Industrial
Program at Tuskegee, along with written text by the other collaborators. It thoroughly detailed
vocational curriculum standards and offered suggestions for ways to use school facilities as
social community centers for clubs and other relevant organizations. Professor Carver also
provided landscaping suggestions and schematics that offered insight for small scale agricultural
production on school grounds. The pamphlet circulated throughout rural southern communities
with the hope of standardizing design plans for Black schools that correlated to that of White
ones by presenting the argument that an industrial curriculum was the best suited means by
which to uplift the economic situation of Black southerners.
143
The Negro Rural School was met
with positive feedback, as Arkansas Negro school agent Leo M. Favrot recounts to Sibley: “That
141
Witold Rybczynski, “Remembering the Rosenwald Schools,” Architect Magazine, September 16, 2015.
142
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 37-38.
143
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 52-56.
49
pamphlet…is one of the best things of its kind I have ever seen…I am going to fasten mine to
my desk in some way so it will never get away from me.”
144
Instead of organizing the architectural designs by school size as Calloway and Taylor had
previously, this time they drafted plans based on purpose so that each school typology would be
better categorized. The pamphlet included ten separate plans for schools ranging from one-room
to two-story buildings that fell under three typologies: the one-teacher school, the central school,
and the county training school. Prior to the pamphlet’s publication, Black schools were typically
constructed with one classroom only, as had been the case in Tuskegee’s early experimentation
phases. (Figure 2.2) Taylor and his colleagues expanded the floor plans to include outhouses, a
cloakroom, additional lecture rooms, industrial training rooms, and sometimes a library, kitchen,
and teacher’s quarters or houses depending on school typology. These rooms were designed to
be partitioned from the main classroom to create a division of space that encouraged higher
enrollment and community and social gatherings outside of class time.
145
Ancillary spaces like
playground, ball fields, and gardens were incorporated into the design plans to emphasize public
health and physical activity among students as well.
146
144
Alabama Department of Education Records, Favrot to Sibley, 26 August 15, folder “C,” SG 15444, Rural School
Agent Correspondence, quoted in Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 54.
145
Weiss, Robert R. Taylor and Tuskegee, 125-127.
146
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 55.
50
Figure 2.2: Early Rosenwald school plan for a one teacher school, likely drafted by Robert Robinson Taylor or a
pupil of Tuskegee’s Industrial Department. The Negro Rural School and Its Relation to the Community,
1915.Tuskegee Institute, pg. 12.
51
Each plan in The Negro Rural School offered a step-by-step guide for how to erect a school
in the community: from site selection and situation to architectural stylings and construction
material selection. Detailed blueprints could be purchased directly from the Extension
Department at Tuskegee Institute for just $1.00, thus ensuring the plans were affordable to all
rural Black communities.
147
The drawings consisted of floor plans, elevations, sections, and
specification lists of necessary building materials. Health concerns like proper ventilation,
sanitation, and lighting standards were also addressed in the pamphlet. East and west light was
favored and building orientation was emphasized: “It is better to have proper lighting within the
schoolroom, however, than to yield to the temptation to make a good show by having the long
side face the road.”
148
The designs themselves were always modest, in keeping with
Washington’s wishes to minimize costs.
Consequently, emphasis was placed on materials that could easily be acquired and
constructed by local carpenters and community members, many of whom donated their time in
lieu of monetary contributions. Some of these materials included lumber for clapboard siding,
brick to build piers that school buildings would sit atop to aid in air circulation, double-hung six-
over-six or nine-over-nine light windows for ventilation and optimal natural lighting, pitched tin
roofs, and galvanized iron to build stoves for heating in the winter. Other features that typified
Rosenwald schools were hipped and clipped-gable roof lines and central entrances with either a
gable or shed porch roof. The plans in The Negro Rural School also included instructions for
custom-made school furnishings such as benches and tables, as well as preferred vendor lists for
school materials like blackboards and chalk. Proliferated by the one-room teacher plan that was
predominant across rural southern landscapes, each of these elements quickly became character-
defining architectural features of the rural Rosenwald schoolhouse typology that would continue
with some later design additions throughout the entirety of program’s existence.
149
Washington’s Death, Reorganization, and Establishing the Rosenwald Fund, 1915-1920
On November 14, 1915, Booker T. Washington died unexpectedly after returning to
Tuskegee from a business trip to the North. The educator had been suffering from Bright’s
147
The Negro Rural School and Its Relation to the Community, (Tuskegee: Tuskegee Institute, 1915): 100-144.
148
The Negro Rural School, 10.
149
The Negro Rural School, 100-144; Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 56.
52
disease and kidney inflammation throughout the year.
150
Washington’s rapid deterioration and
subsequent death left the leadership of Tuskegee Institute and its rural school building
partnership with Julius Rosenwald in question, but did not stop its momentum. At the time of
Washington’s death, seventy-eight of the one hundred schools promised under Rosenwald’s
$30,000 gift had been built in three states.
151
The leadership at Tuskegee quickly reorganized and
although Rosenwald did not support the Board of Trustee’s new choice for Principal, Robert
Mussa Moton of Hampton Institute, he was confident in Calloway and the Tuskegee Extension
Department’s ability to continue developing the rural school building program. In an effort to
demonstrate his commitment beyond the initial partnership with Washington, Rosenwald
bequeathed another $30,000 of funding for school grants and administrative assistance to help
construct another one hundred schools in the program in February 1916. He again offered
additional funding for up to three hundred schools only nine months later when “over 180
schools had been approved for assistance and Calloway estimated another hundred communities
were organizing to apply for aid.”
152
Rosenwald’s new pledge to the Extension Department’s
building program energized the work at Tuskegee in the wake of its founder’s passing.
But over the course of the next four years, the Rosenwald school building program grew
rapidly and suffered extensive growing pains as its scale increased. With new leadership under
Moton, the program underwent several reorganizing efforts at Tuskegee. First, a Rosenwald
committee of Tuskegee administrators was formed to handle correspondence with Rosenwald
and Graves in Chicago. Their purpose was also to streamline the grant application process
between the Tuskegee Institute and the growing number of state Negro and Rosenwald Agents
throughout the region, a process that would remain unclear despite the aid of the Committee.
Clinton J. Calloway, however, remained solely responsible for all major correspondence, field
surveys, and final decisions pertaining to grant allocation through Tuskegee’s Extension
Department. As a result, the Extension Department at Tuskegee became overwhelmed with
applications and were becoming unable to keep up with the demand of the work, a problem that
only compounded as the program expanded over the next few years.
150
“The Death of Booker T. Washington,” Booker T. Washington National Monument, National Park Service,
accessed November 10, 2022, https://www.nps.gov/bowa/learn/historyculture/upload/the-final-btwdeath-site-
bulletin.pdf.
151
Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 151.
152
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 64-65.
53
Second, the “Plan for Erection of Rural Schoolhouses” needed revision by the fall of
1917 to define and consolidate its operations as the program expanded beyond Alabama. The
new version of the “Plan” created a more explicit process for application management at
Tuskegee, tiered grant allocations based on school size (i.e., one-teacher schools received max
$400, two-teacher schools $500, etc.), established the requirement that school construction
needed to be complete with local monies before Rosenwald funding would be administered, and
further extended school year terms with additional financial incentives. Rosenwald quickly
approved the “Plan” revisions with the hope that the program’s new procedures would provide
more structure to its growth.
The reorganizing efforts culminated in a new budget proposal for Rosenwald drafted by
Morton, Calloway, and other Tuskegee administrators. It was their aspiration to build an
additional three hundred schoolhouses in up to ten southern states on top of the three hundred
already confirmed for construction. Along with a budget breakdown to cover costs for the new
schools, the proposal included significant allotments to aid in restructuring the program’s
administrative staff with the support of several new hires. In total, the proposed budget out of
Tuskegee called for a prodigious $144,030. Rosenwald committed the funding to build the three
hundred additional schools and a portion of the other requests, but the benefactor hesitated to
donate all of the money, worried that the new “Plan” was not entirely sufficient in its ability to
restructure the program’s operations.
Rosenwald’s reluctance reflected his changing sentiments at the time. He was now on the
board of the Rockefeller Foundation and held close relationships with executives tied to the
General Education Board (GEB). As a result, he became more exposed to the philanthropic
efforts for Black education at the national level and was subsequently influenced by the work of
his philanthropic peers. He was also persuaded by his secretary William C. Graves, who raised
many questions about the management and bookkeeping abilities at Tuskegee. Rosenwald’s
strained relationship with its new Principal Moton did not help ease his lack of trust the
benefactor felt for Tuskegee’s abilities either. To address his growing skepticism, Rosenwald
launched an audit in March 1919 to assess the Tuskegee’s management abilities and financial
records dating back to 1913.
153
The reported findings proved that significant reorganization
would be necessary if the rural school building program was going to be successful moving
153
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 67-74; Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 230-232.
54
forward, even though worthy efforts had been made to stay organized at Tuskegee. As Graves
reported to Principal Moton:
Kindly state to the Committee that the auditors seriously criticize the failure to keep
books of account, the confusion in the files, the loss of valuable data, including checks,
check stubs and expense accounts, the failure to reconcile bank balances, the temporary
use of Rosenwald money for Jeanes fund disbursements and vice versa, and the payment
of money to schools that had not made requisitions…The auditors believe the Fund was
administered honestly, the conditions criticized being due to lack of knowledge of
bookkeeping.
154
Also of concern to Rosenwald was the physical quality of the schoolhouses themselves.
Complaints from Alabama’s Negro State Agent James L. Sibley and other public school officials
brought the lack of construction oversight to Rosenwald’s attention. Although plans from The
Negro Rural School and Its Relation to the Community were widely circulated and blueprints
available to communities for a low cost, many deviated from the plans in favor of cheaper
construction materials more readily available on hand. The resulting product was often poorly
built schoolhouses with inadequate windows, doors, walls, and other architectural features.
Calloway and his staff simply did not have the bandwidth to monitor local building efforts to
ensure the program’s standards were kept. As a result, Rosenwald hired Dr. Fletcher B. Dresslar,
a professor of hygiene and schoolhouse planning at George Peabody College for Teachers in
Nashville, to survey the Rosenwald schools and report back on their conditions. His findings
further verified Rosenwald’s speculations: that the lack of oversight on behalf of Calloway and
Tuskegee’s school building program administrators had caused architectural deficiencies in the
building methods that posed serious health and safety concerns.
Simultaneous to his investigative efforts at Tuskegee, Rosenwald had been undergoing
his own reorganization of business endeavors in Chicago. On October 30, 1917, he established
the Julius Rosenwald Fund (Fund), an independent philanthropic organization founded with an
endowment of 20,000 shares in Sears, Roebuck, and Company. The Fund would serve as an
umbrella for all of Rosenwald’s future contributions to various charitable causes, it’s philosophy
embodying the slogan of betterment “for all mankind.”
155
During the first ten years of the Fund’s
operations, the organization remained under control of those close to Rosenwald: his wife, one of
154
Rosenwald Fund Archives, Moton Papers, “Graves to Moton, 13 March 1919,” folder 342, box 52, General
Correspondence, quoted in Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 74.
155
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 69-79; Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 233-235.
55
his sons, and a son in law, with the philanthropist himself assuming the roles of President and
Treasurer. Also assisting with administrative responsibilities for organization during this time
were Francis W. Shepardson, who served as Secretary and Acting Director, and Alfred K. Stern,
the Director. The two ran a small office in Chicago that assumed authority over Rosenwald’s
future gifts, with the exception of the rural school building program still in Tuskegee’s control at
the time.
156
But by 1920, it became obvious to Rosenwald that Morton, Calloway, and the
administrators at Tuskegee would be unable to handle the volume of work required to
successfully operate the rural school building program moving forward, despite insistence from
the Tuskegee officials that with a better organized administrative team and more funding, it
would be entirely possible. Disregarding the deeper racial message associated with moving the
program away from Tuskegee and into the hands of a predominately White staff at the Fund,
Rosenwald relied on his business acumen and made the official decision to do so in late April.
Later that year, the rural school building program moved from Tuskegee to a new Rosenwald
Fund satellite office in Nashville under new leadership. The building program had outgrown
Tuskegee’s capacity to operate it, and the move signaled a shift toward attaining Rosenwald’s
modern vision for a dynamic philanthropic campaign that would catapult Rosenwald schools into
the foreground as models for public education in rural Black communities and beyond.
157
Although there are no complete records to accurately convey how many Rosenwald schools were
built during the Tuskegee years, it is estimated that approximately five hundred rural schools
were built in thirteen states between the program’s initial pilot phase in 1912 until its
reorganization in 1920.
158
The Later Years in Nashville: Tennessee Relocation and Reorganization of the Fund
Rethinking the Rural School Building Program, 1920-1932
Over the next twelve years, the rural school building program underwent major revisions
under the administration of the Rosenwald Fund. The Nashville office became known as the
Southern School Building Office, a move that defined Rosenwald’s school building program as
156
Summer Anne Ciomek, “The History, Architecture, and Preservation of Rosenwald Schools in Georgia,”
(Master’s thesis, University of Georgia, 2007), 20-21.
157
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 79-85.
158
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 48-52.
56
an independent entity separate from his other charities operating out of the Chicago office.
159
The program’s reorganization under the Fund implemented a fundamental shift in its operations,
as it became “increasingly distant from the communities it served and its staff increasingly
white.” Historian Mary Hoffschwelle elaborates, “those changes would, ironically, allow the
Julius Rosenwald Fund to develop into an aggressive philanthropy that would overshadow the
school building program.”
160
It was the schools built under the Rosenwald Fund during these
years that would come to characterize the majority of Rosenwald schools built during the
program’s tenure.
The overarching goal of the new program in Nashville was to establish networks of rural
schools that resembled a proper public school system, akin to those in White communities and
for both Black and White schools in urban areas. At Tuskegee, the school building program
focused its efforts almost entirely on one and two teacher schoolhouses, which ultimately dotted
the region in a disjointed fashion. The hope moving forward under the Rosenwald Fund was to
create interconnected public school systems—rather than simply individual school buildings—in
rural southern areas that served students at both the primary and secondary levels while still
retaining the core industrial education curriculum that Washington had implemented and that
remained popular in the context of the segregation that persisted in the Jim Crow Era.
Leading these efforts was former Tennessee Negro State Agent Samuel L. Smith. Smith,
a White educator, was tapped by Rosenwald to head the Fund’s Nashville office after because of
the new ideas and negotiating skills he brought to the table during Tuskegee’s restructuring
phase in the years prior. Like Rosenwald and his colleagues, Smith envisioned a rural schools
program whose campuses included grant funding for multiple academic structures, industrial
buildings, and teacher’s cottages, as well as other important spaces like libraries and auditoriums.
Smith steered the program in a direction that focused on the recommendations suggested by Dr.
Fletcher B. Dresslar during his 1919 study of the schools. Dresslar felt that a new set of
architectural standards—one that focused on school hygiene rather than community social
value—needed to be drafted. This would be necessary, by his account, to modernize the school
159
Jerry Wayne Woods, “The Julius Rosenwald Fund School Building Program: A Saga in the Growth and
Development of African American Education in Selected West Tennessee Communities" (Master’s thesis,
University of Mississippi, 1995), 65-66.
160
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 85.
57
building program, preferably with a focus on the county training schools that were starting to
become the contemporary standard for rural Black education beyond the primary level. This, he
believed, would help consolidate public school systems into fewer campuses with better facilities
instead of many smaller schools with poor facilities, a move in line with the new goals of the
Fund. Additionally, Dresslar suggested more supervision was necessary to oversee construction
laborers than local school superintendents and officials could provide.
To address these recommendations, Rosenwald and his colleagues drafted a new plan in
the summer of 1920, titled the “Plan for the Distribution of Aid from the Julius Rosenwald Fund
for Building Rural School Houses in the South” to replace the original “Plan for Erection of
Rural Schoolhouses.” The document set a new framework for further operations of the rural
school building program under the Rosenwald Fund. Although the new “Plan” was modified
over the next decades, the two main objectives, consolidating the administrative structure and
improving design standards and architecture to support industrial instruction, remained the
program’s primary mission to advance the conditions of Black education in the rural South until
its end in 1932.
The first goal focused on unifying Rosenwald school stakeholders under the leadership of
each individual state. Despite the guidelines in earlier “Plan” drafts that mandated their
involvement, the association between state agencies and local communities in rural school
construction was unclear during the Tuskegee years, with no oversight from the Tuskegee
administrators to ensure that collaborative relationships occurred. The Fund sought to change
this, and their solution was to allocate grant funding not at the local level, but rather through state
departments of education moving forward. While this move created a top down approach to its
grant dispersion, it did not change the grassroots, self-help philosophy engrained within the
school building program. Local Black communities, often with the help of White supporters,
were still required to contribute an equal or even greater contribution than the Rosenwald Fund
would provide. The requirement to contribute additional out of pocket donations on top of
regular tax payments for public schools was of course not required of White communities for
their schools, a stipulation of the Fund’s that often drew criticism and resentment from rural
Black communities who challenged it’s obviously discriminatory nature. Yet many communities
ultimately overlooked the stipulation, accepting the overarching benefit of erecting a local school
for improved economic mobility. As such, Rosenwald, Smith, and their colleagues hoped that by
58
encouraging communities to build larger, more expensive schools with diverse facilities—a
choice that would inevitably surpass the donation abilities of lesser income rural Black
residents—would incentivize more financial involvement from public school agencies to absorb
the schools into the public school system at the local level.
161
In action, administering funds through the state department created a “high-pressure
salesmanship campaign” because it sold the idea of Black education to both communities and
now more rigorously to school officials.
162
At the time, economic conditions resulting from poor
agricultural harvests and social conditions caused by racism in the Jim Crow South had become
so bad that many rural Black Americans moved northward, a phenomenon that became known as
the Great Migration. The Progressive cause for Black education, which still operated squarely
within the White supremacist system, recognized this new pattern of migration as an issue and
doubled down on advertising to help keep Black citizens in the South. As a result, southern state
agencies were very willing to appropriate public revenue toward Black education with the hope
that better schools would entice Black agricultural workers to remain in the South, thus
constraining them from escaping a life of sharecropping. During the 1920s, racial tensions
remained high in the South with an emergence of the Ku Klux Klan and other hate groups. The
leaders of the Rosenwald Fund and the Fund’s various state agents knew they had to work even
harder to ensure interracial cooperation at the local level to avoid attacks on Rosenwald schools.
To avoid hostility, “Smith planned to administer the program with a common racial strategy,”
Hoffschwelle writes, “employed by white reformers and philanthropic programs, a strategy that
gave first priority to white expectations and adjusted plans for black education accordingly.”
163
Consequently, their actions further ostracized Calloway and the program’s other Black founders
at Tuskegee in favor of putting emphasis on the philanthropy’s new White paternalist
leadership.
164
The second goal of the Fund’s operations in Nashville was to promote the idea of “better
schools.” To them, “better schools” meant better architecture and better instruction, an
advertising philosophy Smith, Dresslar, and their colleagues utilized to create what would
eventually become model schools for rural southern education for both Black and White
161
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools,85-124; Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 235-238.
162
Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 69-70.
163
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 91-92.
164
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 88-94.
59
communities alike. Rosenwald’s new “Plan” dealt with the design problems of Tuskegee era
buildings, and created a provision stating that Rosenwald grants would only go toward new
school building construction, not toward remodels to address faulty design flaws built under the
previous administration (this provision would later be amended to allow funding for buildings
destroyed in arson attacks and natural disasters). The new document also tiered funding to
include additional grant money for larger schools with incentives for additional buildings and
schools that operated on a minimum eight month term. Lastly, it required various steps of
approval for school building construction, beginning with funding eligibility and later design
plan as well as site and situation approval to ensure the Fund’s architectural standards were
implemented in each project.
165
In 1921, the Rosenwald Fund published its first iteration of Community School Plans, a
pamphlet of design plans to be circulated throughout the South that focused on creating model
schools of the 1920s. The document took on several additions throughout the decade as schools
got bigger, but each plan type remained the same. The original Community School Plans
incorporated and updated Robert Robinson Taylor’s original Tuskegee designs and added
additional schemes designed by Dresslar for larger schools. The purpose of the new document
was to create greater variation in the plans that focused more heavily on site and building
orientation, ventilation and circulation, building sanitation, and longevity of materials. New
plans were rectangular, “H,” or “T” shaped in form and required ancillary privies for students
and teachers. Although brick and concrete became popular building materials to promote
building longevity as the decade progressed and larger schools like high schools were built,
many of the original character-defining features of the Tuskegee years remained: gabled roofs
(although these had evolved from the original clipped-gable and hipped rooflines), porch
overhangs, double hung windows, and clapboard siding among them.
Many schools still used self-made furniture reminiscent of the Tuskegee years instead of
the prefabricated furniture listed in the new guidelines, which Smith subtly allowed knowing
most communities could not afford to buy furniture from the Fund’s vendors. These materials
had proven their worth as affordable and easy to access, and were comparable in quality to White
schools without invoking jealousy as Booker T. Washington had warned in the early years of the
rural school building program. Specific color schemes were developed to maintain continuity,
165
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools,86-124; Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald, 233-235.
60
and by the end of the decade, model schools ranging from one to twelve classrooms had been
built using the new Rosenwald school plans drafted in the Community School Plans pamphlet.
166
(Figure 2.3)
Figure 2.3: Community School Plan 3. Community School Plans, rev. ed., 1928.
166
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 94-111.
61
In addition to architectural changes that addressed design issues, another goal of school
modernization encompassed instructional standards within the architecture. The Rosenwald Fund
continued to shift toward enforcing vocational and industrial training in its schools, a curriculum
that was often cast aside during the Tuskegee years in small schoolhouses that only had the
financial ability to teach basic elementary academics. To incentivize this, more grant funding
was available for ancillary buildings and landscapes like vocational shops, kitchens and laundry
rooms, agricultural fields, and community gardens. As the 1920s progressed, more funding tiers
were added for larger schools with extra incentives for county training schools and high schools
to support vocational equipment and materials. Along with plans for larger schools came more
opportunities for communities to fund infrastructure that supported schools as the center of
community life in the area. Spaces like auditoriums, cafeterias, and basketball courts were
encouraged for school instruction, extracurricular activities, and athletics. Rural communities
took advantage of these incentives, and by the end of the decade dozens of county training
schools and high schools had been established throughout the South.
167
Statewide financial support and updated architectural standards led the Rosenwald
schools to become the model for Black schools as part of the Jim Crow Era’s Progressive
educational reform agenda by the end of the 1920s. White communities saw improved Black
schools as an opportunity to improve their own public schools, and many Community School
Plans were approved for White schools in the South as well. The Fund subtly challenged the
segregationist mentality of the Jim Crow Era in this way, with the Rosenwald schools having
“created a visual vocabulary for southern rural schools that crossed the color line and suggested
that all students could and should learn in professionally designed instructional environments.”
168
With additional support for school transportation, library materials, and teacher’s salaries, the
Rosenwald Fund had moved away from its original mission focusing on building rural school
facilities, as established by Booker T. Washington, and successfully broadened its to create a
network of public schools to modernize education for Black southerners. The Rosenwald schools
built during the 1920s now complied with the standards for school construction at the national
level, which brought the Fund nationwide recognition. Dedication to their school building
facilities and Rosenwald’s continued support of Black education reflected in the Fund’s
167
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 111-124.
168
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 113.
62
spending, with approximately eighty-five percent of its $4,049,974 expenditures consumed by
the school building program in 1927.
169
But also in 1927, the direction of the Rosenwald Fund took a turn. Julius Rosenwald
sought to reorganize it to operate as more of a charitable corporation than the personal benefactor
model employed in the past. He believed that a “philanthropic foundation, in order to be a social
agency rather than a personal convenience, had to have a policy-forming body consisting of
members with a wide-range of interests and knowledge, who had no direct connection with the
founder's fortune, and who could give all of their time to the work of the foundation.”
170
That
year, Rosenwald hired Edwin R. Embree, another White philanthropist and former Vice
President of the Rockefeller Foundation, to lead the reorganization. As a result of Embree’s
leadership, the Rosenwald Fund moved beyond building rural schools. Their focus was now on
greater themes of social change, and Embree established new programs within the Fund to
address economic issues in Black communities, specifically instructional programming, rather
than facilities, within Black schools. Consequently, the Fund began to reduce grant funds for
school buildings beginning in 1928. Embree believed that “our own rural school program has
been well conceived and effectively carried out, but we can easily drift into the position of
simply helping Southern communities do what from now on they should be ready to do for
themselves.” To avoid devolution, he believed it was now time to take the focus away from
school buildings and instead spotlight “what goes on inside of them” to address broader social
issues regarding the construct of race.
171
Spurred by the Fund’s changing initiatives and fueled by the market crash in 1929, over
the course of the next four years, Rosenwald grant funding for school construction gradually
reduced based on schoolhouse size. The Rosenwald Fund’s rural school building program
officially ended in 1932, after Julius Rosenwald’s death on January 6
th
. Over the course of its
twenty-year tenure, the program saw massive growth from its original roots as a self-help
initiative at Tuskegee under the guidance of Booker T. Washington. Ultimately, Rosenwald
schools had spread as far west as Texas and Oklahoma and north into Maryland. The rural school
169
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 125-136, 142-160; Ciomek, “The History,” 26.
170
Ciomek, “The History,” 24.
171
Rosenwald Fund Archives, Rosenwald Papers, “Special Confidential Memorandum on the Kinds of Things That
Should be Supported by Foundations,” folder 6, box 58, series III, 23 July 1930; Rosenwald Fund Archives,
Rosenwald Papers, Embree to Rosenwald, folder 9, box 33, series I, 4 May 1931, quoted in Hoffschwelle, The
Rosenwald Schools, 155-156, 158.
63
building program ended with the Rosenwald Fund having “achieved the remarkable
accomplishment of aiding the construction of over 5,000 schools in fifteen southern states,”
which accounted for one-third of Black schools in the South at the time.
172
(Figure 2.4) The
Rosenwald Fund’s Southern Office closed in December 1937, and the Fund formally dissolved
in 1948 after having supported other endeavors related to Black equality such as providing
college scholarships and access to healthcare for southern Black Americans during its last few
years of operation.
173
Figure 2.4: Map of Rosenwald schools, 1932. Courtesy of the John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library Special
Collection, Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives, Fisk University.
Rosenwald Fund Accomplishments in Tennessee
By the time the school building program ended in 1932, the Rosenwald Fund had made
significant contributions to Black education in rural Tennessee. During the Tuskegee years,
Rosenwald school construction in Tennessee lagged behind those communities closer to the
Tuskegee Institute in Alabama. So much so that in 1919, Clinton J. Calloway sent a somewhat
172
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 142-160; Ciomek, “The History,” 68; Oliver Arney, “Rosenwald Schools
and the Importance of Preserving History,” Tennessee State Museum, accessed November 12, 2022,
https://tnmuseum.org/Stories/posts/rosenwald-schools-and-the-importance-of-preserving-history?locale=en_us.
173
Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 71.
64
threatening correspondence to then Negro State Agent Samuel L. Smith highlighting the state’s
shortcomings in hopes of fueling Smith’s efforts to focus on constructing adequate rural
schools.
174
Tennessee's inability to complete rural schoolhouses was not due to any lack of
motivation on Smith’s part. In fact, he had already been working on ways to improve rural
school design plans in Tennessee prior to his appointment to the Rosenwald Fund, when he was
still a principal in the Clarksville School District and as the Negro State Agent in Tennessee.
175
The state’s shortcomings were instead the fault of severe racialized tensions at the time. In some
local communities, such as in Kingsport, White opponents used the legal system to stop the
construction of a Rosenwald school for over five years. In many other cases, White men would
steal tools and materials from construction sites overnight to halt construction. In 1917, Smith
had already hired one of the first Rosenwald Agents, a Black educator named Robert E. Clay of
Bristol, Tennessee, to help ease racialized group relations across rural counties to help get the
schoolhouses built.
176
But once the program consolidated within the Rosenwald Fund under Smith’s leadership
as administrator in 1920, Tennessee’s involvement in the rural school building program
significantly increased and, to some degree, White hostility diminished. While the Fund’s
relocation to Nashville distanced relationships with local communities in the deep South, this
move actually worked in favor for its Tennessee relations, given that the Tennessee State
Department of Education was also situated in the state’s capital. Smith applied the plans he had
previously drafted with Dresslar to the 1921 Community School Plans publication, most notably
his H-Plan became a standard for county training schools, the first of which was the Fayette
County Training School in Somerville, Tennessee, built under Smith’s direction in 1916. Around
the same time, another training school was built in McKenzie, Carroll County with additional
Slater Fund investment to support industrial education, which later became known as Webb High
School.
177
The first Tennessee Rosenwald school constructed after the 1920 reorganization was
174
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 66.
175
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 94,
176
Arney, “Rosenwald Schools”; Thomas Beane Stitely, “Bridging the Gap: A History of the Rosenwald Fund in the
Development of Rural Negro Schools in Tennessee 1912-1932,” (Master’s thesis, George Peabody College for
Teachers, 1975), 16.
177
Stitely, “Bridging the Gap,” 21-22.
65
the one-teacher Krisle School in Robertson County, which also utilized one of Smith’s original
plans in the Community School Plans pamphlet.
178
But even as the Rosenwald Fund solidified its presence in Tennessee during the 1920s, it
was met with opposition in several counties. After Smith was chosen to be Director of the Fund’s
Nashville office and assumed responsibilities at the regional level, Robert E. Clay assumed the
responsibility of local operations in Tennessee as the sole Rosenwald state agent, working
closely with the new Negro State Agent of Tennessee, W.E. Turner. It was Clay’s task to rally
communities in favor of building a Rosenwald school, and while he was successful in most
counties, he did encounter significant resistance in Crockett, Carroll, Monroe, and McMinn
Counties where rural Black communities had concerns about being “duped” by the White-led
program when asked to provide their own funding and construction materials. Another challenge
was convincing local Black ministers, who were widely recognized as community leaders, that
school building would not be a threat to their control.
179
Clay experienced even greater
opposition in Tipton County, this time from White residents. When Clay asked the
superintendent of Tipton County what he (Clay) could do to help consolidate the public school
system, the superintendent told him to “get a hoe and chop cotton.”
180
Despite animosity and resistance that continued in both Black and White communities
throughout the decade, Clay, under the tutelage of Smith and the greater Rosenwald Fund, was
highly successful in persuading both Black and White rural residents that building Rosenwald
schools was a worthy cause for rural Black education in Tennessee. To aid in his argument, Clay
leaned heavily on the philosophy of Black self-worth and the importance of industrial training.
By the time the rural school building program ended in 1932, Tennessee had built 354 schools,
nine teachers’ homes on county training school campuses, and ten trade shops throughout the
state. The Fund had provided $291,250 in aid, which was exceeded by Black communities in
Tennessee that contributed $296,388 to the cause, with an additional $28,027 in donations from
White supporters.
181
But one school in particular, the Hardeman County Training School, later
178
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 94.
179
Stitely, “Bridging the Gap,” 30-35.
180
Tennessee State Archives, “Clay Reports,” Box 101-C, 27 May 1928, quoted in Stitely, “Bridging the Gap,” 36.
More examples of Clay’s relationships with various Tennessee counties can be found in Chapters III and IV of:
Thomas Beane Stitely, “Bridging the Gap: A History of the Rosenwald Fund in the Development of Rural Negro
Schools in Tennessee 1912-1932,” (Master’s thesis, George Peabody College for Teachers, 1975) 29-58.
181
Mary S. Hoffschwelle, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” Tennessee Encyclopedia (Nashville: Tennessee Historical
Society, 2017), accessed November 12, 2022, http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/julius-rosenwald-fund/.
66
known as the Allen-White School, would exceed all expectations set forth by the Rosenwald
Fund.
Figure 2.5: Julius Rosenwald with students from a Rosenwald school, n.d. Courtesy of the John Hope and Aurelia E.
Franklin Library Special Collection, Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives, Fisk University.
67
Chapter 3. From a Building to a Plant: The Story of the Allen-White School Campus
182
The Hardeman County Context
The Rural Landscape of Whiteville, Hardeman County
In the southwest region of Tennessee sits Hardeman County (County), one of twenty-one
counties in the West Tennessee region of the state. Its 668 square miles are bounded on the north
by Madison and Haywood Counties, on the east by McNairy and Chester Counties, on the west
by Fayette County, and on the south by the State of Mississippi. Bolivar, the county seat and
largest town in Hardeman County, is located near its center, approximately sixty miles east of
Memphis, the nearest metropolitan city. First organized in November of 1823, the County
claimed its territory from the Jackson Purchase in 1818 when Tennessee Senator Andrew
Jackson and ex-Kentucky governor Isaac Shelby purchased over three thousand acres of land,
including that of West Tennessee, from the Chickasaw Nation through a series of treaties.
183
Hardeman County was named after its first county clerk, Colonel Thomas Hardeman, a veteran
of the War of 1812.
184
The County sits in the upper plateau of West Tennessee near the basin of the Hatchie
River, which flows northwest and into the Mississippi River, and serves as the area’s primary
waterway. The topography is hilly in the east and generally level in the central and western parts
of the County. Its geographic proximity to the major trading market of Memphis, coupled with
its fertile soil, consistent rainfall, and temperate climate, makes Hardeman County’s rural
landscape conducive to an agricultural economy.
185
As a result, early White settlers who came
during the nineteenth century, most from southeastern states like Virginia and the Carolinas,
capitalized on the opportunity to establish cotton plantations using the labor of enslaved peoples,
thus bringing the first generation of Black Americans to the area.
186
When the institution of
182
See Appendix A for a comprehensive timeline of education in Hardeman County and the Allen-White School.
183
Soon after the Jackson Purchase, in the years between 1837-1851, the Chickasaw were among several
southwestern tribes forcibly removed from their native lands as a result of the Indian Removal Act of 1830, an event
which became known in American history as the Trail of Tears. For more information about the Jackson Purchase
and its effect on the Chickasaw Tribe, see: David Wesley Miller, The Taking of American Indian Lands in the
Southeast: a History of Territorial Cessions and Forced Relocation, 1607-1840 (Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 2011).
184
“County History,” Hardeman County, Tennessee, accessed November 16, 2022,
https://hardemancounty.org/about-us/county-history/.
185
Ernest L. Rivers, “The History of Allen-White High School, Whiteville, Hardeman County, TN from 1930-
1948,” (Master’s thesis, Tennessee State A&I University, 1954), 4-10.
186
Faye Tennyson Davis, “Hardeman County,” Tennessee Encyclopedia (Nashville: Tennessee Historical Society,
2017), accessed November 16, 2022, http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/hardeman-county/.
68
slavery was abolished after the Civil War, Hardeman County’s former plantation owners and
freed Black Americans quickly transitioned into the sharecropping system that began to emerge
across the South at the time. Cotton remained the primary crop, with Hardeman County
becoming known as one of the better cotton producing counties in West Tennessee by the latter
half of the 1800s. However, in the first few decades of the twentieth century, the area began to
shift away from a mono-crop system, a move that was solidified with New Deal funding. No
longer reliant on cotton, Hardeman County continued as an agricultural stronghold and
diversified its plantings to include significant harvests of grain, legumes, various types of berries,
and okra, as well as livestock, to serve the consumer market throughout the Depression years.
After World War II, the County followed broader postwar patterns of development in the United
States and shifted toward an industrial economy, mainly focused on automotive and textile
production.
187
The 1930 census indicates that 8,532 of the County’s 23,193 residents were Black,
equaling about 36.8%. By 1940, Hardeman County had grown to a total of 23,590 residents with
a total Black population of 8,816, or 37.4%, due in part to the opportunities bolstered by New
Deal programs established during the 1930s.
188
The Town of Whiteville (Town) sits in District Two at the northwest corner of Hardeman
County and has historically been the second largest town in population after Bolivar. First
established in the early 1800s by Dr. John White of Virginia, the settlement was originally used
as a trading post for economic relations with local Native tribes. Dr. White’s Whiteville Trading
Post, aptly named after himself, was located at the east end of the modern Whiteville street called
Norment’s Lane and was one of the earliest known settlements in Hardeman County. Other
inhabitants began to arrive after the 1818 Jackson Purchase and settled along the banks of nearby
Clear Creek. A stage line stopped at the settlement as early as 1821, and by the 1830s, Whiteville
had grown into a prospering young town with many municipal and social establishments,
including a post office, school, several stores, a hotel, a saloon, and a blacksmith’s shop. Another
early resident, John S. Norment (after whom Norment’s Lane is named), established the first and
only cloth manufacturing factory near Whiteville in the late nineteenth century, which brought
industrial work to the county during the years of the American Industrial Revolution. By 1900,
187
Davis, “Hardeman County”; Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 4-10; Howard Graden Kirskey, “History and
Comparative Growth of Public Schools in Hardeman County, 1867-1936,” (Master’s thesis, Union University,
1937), 1-2.
188
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 5-6.
69
the residents of Whiteville had established a community supported newspaper called The
Whiteville News.
189
The Town continued to expand after the turn of the twentieth century, with the population
growing from 1,572 residents in 1870 to 3,634 residents by 1940.
190
Although most original
Black residents of Whiteville were brought to the Town as enslaved persons, many stayed after
emancipation and worked as sharecroppers. By the 1930s, several Black professionals were
living and working in Whiteville. Among them were Fred Tisdale who owned a dry-cleaning
business, Thomas Green who operated a general store and soda fountain, Clay Crowder and T.H.
Nichols who co-owned the first shoe shop in town, an attorney named P.L. Allen, another
unnamed attorney, J.D. Williams, the town’s first jeweler, an unnamed merry-go-round business
owner, and Dr. Gilbert Shelton, a Black physician whose office was located downtown near the
post office. Dr. Shelton’s father was Anderson Shelton, a member of the Tennessee
legislation.
191
The Black population of Whiteville continued to grow throughout the twentieth
century and Black residents make up a majority of the town today.
Early Education and Public School Law, 1823-1900
As Hardeman County developed, so too did the need for institutions of education. In
1823, the first schools in the County were established, serving White students of the new settler
population only. Edwin Crawford and Henry Thompson are credited as the first schoolteachers in
the County. But before there was a public school system, there were “academies,” which
operated with monies from a common school fund the state received as payment for the sale of
land, lotteries, and tuition fees. Many of the individually recognized charter schools also
sequestered funding from wealthy local residents, teachers, and community organizations
throughout the County. In 1831, Hardeman County appointed a school committee to create
school districts of “convenient size.”
192
The next year, the 1834 state constitution revision
generally espoused the idea of education as a free public good. But despite these legislative
advances, Hardeman was among the many rural Tennessee counties where residents were unable
189
Davis, “Hardeman County”; Evelyn C. Robertson, Education and the American Dream: The Allen-White High
School Story, 1905-1970. (United States: Self-published 2009): ix-xii; “County History”; Hardeman County
Historic Sketches (Bolivar: Hardeman County Historical Commission, 1979).
190
U.S. Census Bureau, Table 3, Population of Civil Divisions Less Than Counties, Tennessee, 1850-1870, 264;
U.S. Census Bureau, Table 4, Population of Counties by Minor Civil Divisions 1920-1940, 1019.
191
Hardeman County Historical Commission, Historic Sketches; Robertson, Education, x.
192
Kirskey, “History and Comparative Growth,” 6.
70
to come to a consensus on whether or not local schools would be a valuable use of tax revenue.
As a result, no public school system was created in Hardeman County for four more decades.
Instead, several academies for White students were established between 1826-1877, including
Bolivar Male Academy (1830), Bolivar Female Academy (1832), Lafayette Male and Female
Academy, Enon Academy, New Castle Female Institute, and Middleburg Male and Female
Academy, J.F. Collins School, Jefferson Academy (1877), and the Whiteville Institute for Boys
and Girls (1875).
193
Simultaneously, few education opportunities existed for enslaved persons in Hardeman
County. Although it is likely that some plantation owners allowed their enslaved population to be
educated, there are no known accounts of schools that served Black students in the prior to the
Civil War. Toward the end of the War, however, the County played a significant role in helping
to establish educational opportunities for newly freed enslaved persons. In 1862, plantation
owners in West Tennessee abandoned their land as Union troops seized territory across the state
after several regional victories. Under a directive from General Ulysses S. Grant, Captain John
Eaton Jr., a chaplain and former superintendent of the 27
th
Ohio Infantry, was sent to Grand
Junction in Hardeman County in November to organize and manage the first “contraband”
refugee camp for formerly enslaved persons. Freed persons from across the Mississippi Valley
congregated at Grand Junction, about twenty-three miles from Whiteville, to receive aid from the
Union Army.
194
It was here that the first federally operated school for freed Americans was
established to provide primary school instruction as well as skills-based industrial and domestic
training. With help from the Western Freedman’s Aid Commission, northern teachers—both
Black and White—came to Grand Junction to help operate the school. This phenomenon
established a pattern across the greater southern landscape, which soon developed into the
193
There is no evidence that two of the schools were ever in operation at all, despite having been chartered by the
state legislature as corporations and having boards of trustees. These include Middleburg Male and Female
Academies Enon Academy. Robertson, Education, 1-2; Hardeman County Historical Commission, Historic
Sketches; Mary S. Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” Trials and Triumphs: Tennesseans’ Search for
Citizenship, Community, and Opportunity, Middle Tennessee State University, 2014.
194
Robertson, Education, 5-6; “Chaplain John Eaton,” Tennessee Civil War Trails, Tennessee Department of Tourist
Development, accessed November 17, 2022, https://www.tnvacation.com/civil-war/person/2134/chaplain-john-
eaton/; Alfreeda Lake McKinney, “Allen-White School, 1930-1970,” Chronicle of Black History in Hardeman
County, Tennessee, Bolivar-Hardeman County Black History Committee, 1979, 4-7; Jerry Wayne Woods, “The
Julius Rosenwald Fund School Building Program: A Saga in the Growth and Development of African American
Education in Selected West Tennessee Communities" (Master’s thesis, University of Mississippi, 1995), 94-95.
71
freedmen’s schools when the Bureau of Freedmen, Refugees, and Abandoned Lands
(Freedmen’s Bureau) was founded as the War came to an end.
195
After the Civil War ended, Hardeman County operated several Black schools through the
Freedmen’s Bureau. Bolivar, the county seat, was the center for Bureau activity and became the
headquarters for a Bureau sub-district in September 1868 that served formerly enslaved peoples
from Hardeman and nearby Carroll, McNairy, Hardin, Decatur, Henderson, and Madison
Counties. As a result, a freedmen’s school operated from 1867-1869 at one of the oldest Masonic
Lodges in West Tennessee for Black citizens, the Bolivar United Sons and Daughters of Charity
Lodge Hall. The school was taught by Charles Martin, and the Bureau had allocated $300 for the
construction of a school building, although this never came to fruition. Other Bureau schools
were established throughout the County, including a small school at Grand Junction in 1867,
Pleasant Grove school at Saulsbury in 1868 taught by L.S. Frost, and another small school at
Pocahontas in 1868 taught by W.S. Holly, a White teacher who fled his post for a new position
in McNairy County after being harassed by the Ku Klux Klan. He wrote, “I was born and
brought up in the South. Just because I was loyal to the [United States] government and fought in
the Federal Army I must be run over by these scoundrels.”
196
But despite initial success, each of
the freedmen’s schools in Hardeman County closed by 1868 as northern interest in
reconstructing the South began to diminish.
As Tennessee reintegrated into the Union, a series of public school laws codified the
public right to education for Tennesseans in the state’s legislation.
197
The most important of
these was the 1867 Public School Law, which required county civil districts to establish special
schools for Black children when the official population exceeded twenty-five potential students
to ensure Black students were given “a common school education.”
198
Under the same law,
Captain John Eaton Jr. was appointed to the role of State Superintendent of Public Instruction.
The 1873 Tennessee Parent Act codified that public schools should be free for all children
195
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 11-12.
196
Jonathan K.T. Smith, “Genealogical and Historical Gleanings from the Freedmen’s Bureau Records West
Tennessee,” TNGen Web Project, 2003, accessed November 17, 2022,
https://www.tngenweb.org/records/madison/misc/freedmen/fbwtn-05.htm; Carroll Van West, “United Sons and
Daughters of Charity Lodge Hall,” Tennessee Encyclopedia (Nashville: Tennessee Historical Society, 2017),
accessed November 17, 2022, http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/united-sons-and-daughters-of-charity-.
197
For a detailed analysis of the legislation pertaining to education in Tennessee at the time, see Chapter 1 of this
project.
198
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 14; Robertson, Education, 5-6; McKinney, “Allen-White School,” 4.
72
residing within the school district, and created a segregated school system. In Hardeman County,
it took seven more years to create a public school system, in part due to a continued
disagreement over tax allocations, and additional hostility from White, property-owning
taxpayers who either denounced Black education or felt it was not their duty to fund Black
schools, especially since the majority of the County’s Black population did not own land.
199
In 1874, a public school system was finally established in the County mandating
elementary education for students in grades one through eight, with taxes later levied for
secondary high school level education in an 1891 countywide provision. This move signaled a
shift from the chartered academies to consolidated schools.
200
An 1887 report from the
Hardeman County Superintendent showed that “there are now two brick, sixty frame and thirty-
three log schoolhouses in the county. Of the scholastic population 4,595 are white and 3,968 are
colored. Eighty-two white teachers are employed and forty-six colored.”
201
Enrollment continued
to climb through the decade, and by the turn of the century Black elementary schools were in
operation all over Hardeman County with support from county funds. By 1899, Hardeman
County had established two high schools, but neither served Black students.
But even with expanded opportunities for Black education as a result of the recent
Tennessee legislation, the new laws did not mandate an equal allocation of funding between
Black and White schools, and supervision from county courts varied on a county-by-county basis
in West Tennessee. In Hardeman County, taxes were not liberally appropriated to the public
school system, which led to short terms and underfunded facilities for both racialized groups.
202
This, coupled with the system of White supremacy that dominated the Jim Crow Era, meant that
rural Black elementary schools suffered especially. As a result, many of the new rural Black
public schools in Hardeman County operated as one-room schools in churches, vacant houses,
brush arbors, and Masonic lodges with term lengths of only about three to five months to ensure
the children of sharecroppers could tend to the harvest in the spring and fall. It was not
uncommon for one teacher to instruct up to one hundred pupils ranging from first through eighth
grades in these makeshift one-room school facilities. According to local historian Alfreeda Lake
199
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 15-17.
200
Robertson, Education, 2.
201
The Godspeed Histories of Fayette & Hardeman Counties of Tennessee, 1887 (Columbia, TN: Woodward &
Stinson Printing Company, 1973), 61.
202
Kirskey, “History and Comparative Growth,” 7-8.
73
McKinney, school equipment at Black schools consisted merely of “a register, a water bucket, a
dipper, a broom, a few erasers, and a box of chalk.” Textbooks were rare but sometimes received
second hand from surrounding White schools, and because chalkboards were too expensive, a
wall in the room was typically painted black to suffice.
203
Furthermore, transportation, fuel for
the furnace, and janitorial services were not provided for rural Black schools. Students and
teachers would arrive early to build fires so the building would be adequately heated throughout
the day. In reality, the early public schools for Black students in Hardeman County were not
much different from those established in prior years by the Freedmen’s Bureau.
Establishing Black Public Education in Whiteville
Jesse C. Allen and The School for Colored Children, 1905-1917
One such school that was not afforded the benefit of a schoolhouse facility was Jesse C.
Allen’s School for Colored Children (School). Founded in 1905, it was likely the only
elementary school for Black students to exist in the Town of Whiteville between 1867-1920.
204
The School operated out of the Whiteville Masonic Lodge, which was associated with the Prince
Hall branch of Freemasonry established for Black Americans in 1784.
205
The “shanty school”—
as it was later described by the Rosenwald Fund—was held for a five month term each year, and
classes were taught by two teachers: Mr. Jesse C. Allen and Mr. Dupree.
206
The son of former
enslaved persons, Jesse Christopher Allen graduated from Roger Williams University in
Nashville in 1884. After graduating, he taught in various rural Black schools across West
Tennessee for twenty-five dollars per month until he married his wife, Ada Neely, and settled in
Hardeman County. There, Allen became a teacher in a small elementary school outside of
Whiteville, which was relocated within the Town’s boundaries in 1905 and became the Jesse C.
Allen School for Colored Children under Allen’s principalship.
203
McKinney, “Allen-White School,” 4-7; Robertson, Education, 6.
204
No evidence was found to suggest that there was ever another elementary school for Black children in Whiteville
during this time. After the passing of the public school law in 1867, there is no record of any Black schools at all in
Whiteville until Jesse C. Allen’s School for Colored Children was established in 1905. The school was absorbed into
the Hardeman County Training School in 1920 and later became the Allen-White School, which will be discussed
later in this chapter.
205
Evelyn C. Robertson, interviewed by the author, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 13, 2022.
206
“Story of the Allen-White School,” box 157, folder 9, Projects/Persons Requesting Aid (Allen White High,
Whiteville, TN), Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives, 1917-1948, John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library, Fisk
University, Nashville.
74
In its first year of operation, the School enrolled one hundred pupils from the Whiteville
Black community. Enrollment doubled just one year later, prompting Allen to hire two more
teachers: Ms. Lena Owens from Memphis, and Ms. Mattie Tatum Fentress of Chicago.
207
Enrollment remained steady, but in 1910 the Whiteville Lodge building burned down due to
unknown circumstances, arson being the likeliest cause given the sentiment toward Black
education in the growing Town of Whiteville. The building was rebuilt that same year, and
classes for the Jesse C. Allen School for Colored Children resumed on the first floor in the newly
constructed facility.
208
By 1917, it became evident that the School had outgrown its makeshift
classroom at the Lodge and required better facilities to function efficiently as enrollment and
term lengths continued to increase. The desire to expand school curriculum beyond the primary
level to include both liberal arts and industrial training was growing too. Consequently, the Black
community in rural Whiteville began to organize efforts for a new school site after almost fifteen
years in operation at the overcrowded Whiteville Lodge.
209
A New Campus Vision and the Push for an Industrial School, 1917-1920
The support for industrial schools, also known as county training schools, was embraced
by state officials and private philanthropies alike in the second decade of the twentieth century.
Both entities saw industrial training as a potential resolution to increase the poor literacy rates in
southerners, especially in the Black population. Sticking within the context of Jim Crow, White
Progressives and bureaucrats felt an industrial education was the answer to increasing Black
educational opportunities. The initiatives enacted by both government officials and Progressive
reformers “accepted a separate and unequal curriculum for black public schools that emphasized
training for manual labor and domestic service,” as historian Mary Hoffschwelle explains. The
emergence of this philosophy played a pivotal role in the successful timing of the Whiteville
community’s campaign for financing a new school facility, given the proposed nature of the
industrial school curriculum. As was the case with this community in Hardeman County, “black
Tennesseans and their white allies used these programs as leverage for increased spending on
black schools and then shifted the focus to improving academics.”
210
207
McKinney, “Allen-White School,” 4; Robertson, Education, 7-8; Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 169, 180.
208
“Story of the Allen-White School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives.
209
McKinney, “Allen-White School,” 4.
210
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014.
75
In 1909, new education legislation was enacted by the Tennessee State Assembly, which
consolidated vocational education with the regular public school curriculum by providing state
funding for industrial education in two-year high schools across the state. The legislation
essentially incentivized public schools’ boards to provide industrial training to Black and lesser
income White students at the high school level. By 1914, Hardeman County had embraced the
new legislation, but only for White schools. Among the high schools established was Whiteville
High School, which served the greater Whiteville population. That year, the County formalized
the Hardeman County Board of Education and established eight public high schools in each
district for the 1914-1915 schoolyear, all of which catered to White pupils. Although statewide
support for expanding Black education via industrial education was present, with no attempt
from local public officials to advance opportunities for Black education in Hardeman County
beyond the primary level, the Whiteville community knew they needed to find support for their
new school infrastructure elsewhere.
211
Simultaneously, philanthropic organizations like the Julius Rosenwald Fund, established
in 1917, were working to help finance rural Black school building efforts. Stemming from
private sector capitalist attitudes, their work brought a sense of credibility to the cause among
White southerners and government bureaucrats as the segregationist mentality grew across
Tennessee and the greater American South. At the same time the Whiteville community was
organizing, the Rosenwald Fund was about to begin the process of transitioning from Tuskegee
to Nashville under the new leadership of former Negro State Agent Samuel L. Smith. Smith was
highly influential in the Fund’s shift away from primary level liberal arts and classical courses
and toward vocational and home economics training in rural Black schools, writing that each
school should be a “beacon of light” for the local community, “…a blazing torch…to guide the
pathway to better educational opportunities,” taking it upon himself “to see to it that every new
Negro school was a model demonstration.”
212
Under his leadership, which officially began in
1920, the Fund started to decrease grant funding for primary schools in order to fund larger
county training schools instead. County training schools had already begun appearing throughout
211
Robertson, Education, 2-3; Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 18-19; J.H. White, Up from a Cotton Patch:
J.H. White and the Development of Mississippi Valley State College (Self-published, Itta Bena, Miss.: 1979): 17-30.
212
Samuel L. Smith, All Along the Way, From Sunrise at Swan Creek to the Evening Shadows at Peabody
(Unpublished manuscript, Peabody College, n.d.): 133-135, quoted in Thomas Beane Stitely, “Bridging the Gap: A
History of the Rosenwald Fund in the Development of Rural Negro Schools in Tennessee 1912-1932,” (Master’s
thesis, George Peabody College for Teachers, 1975), 23.
76
West Tennessee by the late 1910s, including the neighboring Fayette County Training School in
Somerville, Haywood County Training School in Brownsville, Madison County Training School
in Denmark, and the Shelby County Training School in Woodstock. The enthusiasm of state
officials and philanthropic donors to expand industrial training in Tennessee created the perfect
financing opportunity for the ongoing efforts to establish a county training school in
Whiteville.
213
In 1917, Jesse C. Allen and local Black doctor Gilbert Shelton travelled to the Tuskegee
Institute to learn more about the Rosenwald-funded rural school building program. They hoped
to secure funding to build a new school facility, one that had the potential to grow into a campus
plant that served students through the high school years. Upon their return, the organizers
contacted Negro State Agent Smith to encourage a visit to Whiteville. Between 1917-1918,
Smith, along with Tennessee Rosenwald Agent Robert E. Clay and Dr. George Washington
Carver of Tuskegee, visited Whiteville to assess the project’s feasibility and to educate locals
about the protocol for grant funding provided by the newly established Rosenwald Fund. Allen
and Shelton knew that to acquire Rosenwald funding, the community would first have to attain
local funds to cover construction costs, a provision outlined in the school building program’s
1917 revision to the “Plan for Erection of Rural Schoolhouses.” As a result, in 1919, a Board of
Trustees was established to control the grassroots fundraising campaign in Whiteville for what
would soon become the Hardeman County Training School (HCTS). Board members included
Jesse C. Allen, Founder; William M. Murphy, Chairman; Dr. Gilbert Shelton, Secretary;
Crawford Robertson, Treasurer; Isam Miller, J.N. Norment, Ed Crisp Sr., John Wilson Sr., Henry
McKinney, Jim Reynolds, S.W.J. Allen, and Frank Beard. Operating under the continued
principalship of Jesse C. Allen, the campus would serve elementary students formerly of the
Jesse C. Allen School for Colored Children, and eventually high school students who would
receive industrial training as well.
214
Next, the Board of Trustees approached the Hardeman County Board of Education
(Board) with the Rosenwald school proposal to secure additional financing and operational
support from public school officials, another provision of the Rosenwald Fund to guarantee a
213
Carroll Van West, “Allen-White School,” National Register of Historic Places Inventory/Nomination Form,
Tennessee Historical Commission, Nashville, September 26, 2005, section 8, page 2.
214
“Story of the Allen-White School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives; Robertson, Education, 7; Rivers, “The History of
Allen-White,” 18-19; Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 181.
77
grant. The Trustees promised the Board that any necessary funds to match the Rosenwald grant
for a school building would come from the local Black community, if the Board would purchase
the required three acres of land on which to construct the building per the Rosenwald Fund
requirements. The Board was likely convinced by an additional offer from local Black farmer
and business owner Clay Crowder, who offered to donate to the County one-fourth acre of land
if they would purchase the three-acre school site from him. The Board accepted the offer, and the
transaction was finalized on March 13, 1919.
215
The terms of the deed were as follows:
This indenture, made and entered into the 13
th
day of March 1919, by and between Clay
Crowder and wife, May Fannie Crowder of the County of Hardeman, and the State of
Tennessee, parties of the first part, and Dr. J.D. Sasser, Dr. Siler, C.M. Hunt, Blake
White, and W.B. Baker, comprising the Elementary Board of Education of Hardeman
County, Tennessee, parties of the second part.
Witnesseth, that the said parties of the first part in consideration of the sum of three
hundred twenty-five dollars, of which two hundred fifty dollars in cash in hand paid, the
receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, and the balance, said parties of the first part
hereby donate to the County Training School, Whiteville, Tennessee. Do hereby grant,
bargain, sell and convey unto said parties of the second part, their successors in office
forever, the following described tract, lot or parcel of land in Hardeman County
Tennessee…Containing three and one-fourth acres more or less. This instrument was
filed for record October 17, 1919 at 10:45 A.M. and noted in note book 16, page 52.
J.W. Jacobs, R.H.C.
216
After reaching an agreement with the Hardeman County Board of Education, the Trustees
secured a $4,000 joint note from the Whiteville Savings Bank to cover initial construction costs
for a school building on September 17, 1919. The Black community of Whiteville’s fervent
agitation to erect a school building in town had proven successful, and construction could now
commence.
217
The Hardeman County Training School Years: Building a Rosenwald School
Dorris Hall, the First Brick Rosenwald School in Tennessee, 1920
The new Rosenwald school building in Whiteville gave Samuel L. Smith the opportunity
to utilize plans he had been developing since his tenure as a principal in the Clarksville School
215
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 20.
216
Hardeman County Record of Deeds, Register Book E-3, Page 333, Hardeman County Office of the Register,
Bolivar, Tennessee, October 17, 1919, accessed October 11, 2022.
217
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 21; Robertson, Education, 11-13; Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 170.
78
District. It also gave him another tangible opportunity to make an argument in favor of building
county training schools with Rosenwald Funding in the sharecropping region of West Tennessee,
a move that likely helped secure his leadership as Director of the Rosenwald Fund’s Southern
Office the following year. Smith, along with Calvin McKissack of Tennessee Agricultural &
Industrial State Normal School for Negroes (Tennessee A&I, now Tennessee State University),
prepared a schoolhouse plan to help the Whiteville community avoid additional architecture
fees.
218
By October 1919 construction on the new HCTS building was underway, one year prior
to Smith’s appointment to the Rosenwald Fund and the subsequent publication of the 1921
Community School Plans pamphlet, a project headed by Smith and his colleague Dr. Fletcher B.
Dresslar. As a result, when the Whiteville community school was under construction, only basic
architectural standards were available from the school building program’s original school design
plans published in The Negro Rural School and Its Relation to the Community, the 1915 project
headed by architect Robert Robinson Taylor at Tuskegee. The Fund had not yet begun
publicizing its modern building school program for “ideal schools,” which would soon include
plans for rural schools ranging from one to twelve classrooms.
219
Smith was directly involved with the design and construction of the Hardeman County
Training School around the same as time he was developing plans for the upcoming expanded
Rosenwald rural school building program in Nashville. Because of this, it is very likely that the
HCTS in Whiteville was the first county training school with Rosenwald funding to embody an
“H” shaped plan that Smith and Dresslar would soon introduce to the Rosenwald program for
larger schools. The “H” shaped plans for ideal modern schoolhouses were first published in the
1921 version of Community School Plans, which included plans 4-A, 5-A, 5-B, and 6-A, the
latter of which is identical to the overall form and massing of the HCTS. Smith adopted the “H”
plan from turn-of-the-century urban schools, where many classrooms were often forced to fit on
small school parcels, yet still provide windows for each classroom per local building codes.
Within the school building program, rural community school “H” plan designs ranged from four
to twelve classrooms and included vocational training rooms and sometimes an auditorium,
library, and office spaces, dependent upon the school’s size and the budgetary constraints of the
218
Stitely, “Bridging the Gap,” 24.
219
Mary S. Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools of the American South (Gainesville, FL: University Press of
Florida, 2006): 86-124.
79
local community and school board. Optimal lighting and ventilation were of the utmost
important to Smith, Dresslar, and the Fund, therefore schools in the “H” plan form were required
to face north or south.
220
(Figure 3.1)
Figure 3.1: Rosenwald Fund 6-A Plan for a “Six Teacher Community School,” which depicts the H-shape form.
Community School Plans, rev. ed., 1928.
Despite the general design standards that were in development within the Rosenwald
Fund’s new and improved rural school building program, local communities often expanded the
220
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools,103.
80
initial floor plans to express agency and local pride.
221
The plan for the HCTS directly mirrored
that of the 6-A Plan later depicted in the 1921 publication. However, locals in Whiteville did take
liberties with building materials, a recurring pattern among Rosenwald communities that soon
became a problem for the Fund. Whether it was to differentiate a school’s architecture to reflect
the community that built it, or the result of frugality among rural farmers responsible for funding
their own community schools, design inconsistencies nonetheless led to subpar health standards
or architectural impracticalities that Dresslar discovered in his 1917 survey of early Rosenwald
schools. This phenomenon ultimately contributed to the demise of the Tuskegee operations in
favor of standardization practices that would be better monitored by the Nashville office.
222
To cut down on construction costs, the community in Whiteville utilized brick masonry
siding under the direction of a contractor by the name of Mr. Fields from Nashville with the
construction labor assistance of local volunteers and vocational students from Tennessee A&I.
223
At the time of the HCTS’s construction, brick had only been recommended by the rural school
program pamphlet at Tuskegee for usage in foundation piers and chimneys, not as exterior
siding. Instead, the recommendation was clapboard or board and batten siding, constructed of
wood materials that Washington, Calloway, and Taylor felt would be easier for rural Black
communities to mill and construct.
224
In Whiteville, however, the choice to use brick carried a different connotation than had
other communities’ choices to deviate from Rosenwald standards in other parts of the South.
Instead of creating poor conditions resulting from insufficient construction materials, the
organizers of the HCTS had actually improved the building’s long-term architectural efficiency.
In fact, by choosing brick, the Whiteville community had chosen a siding material typical of
White and urban schools, one that had been purposely omitted from Tuskegee’s original design
guidelines because of Booker T. Washington’s concern that well-built rural Black schools may
put sharecropping communities at risk of arson and other fearmongering crimes if local White
residents became jealous and resentful of the public school infrastructure for Black students built
221
Andrew Feiler, “The Architecture of Rosenwald Schools.” Architect Magazine, March 31, 2021, accessed
October 12, 2022, https://www.architectmagazine.com/aia-architect/aiaadvocacy/the-architecture-of-rosenwald-
schools_o.
222
For more information about this survey and its effect on the Rosenwald Fund school building program, see
Chapter 2.
223
Robertson, Education, 12; Stitely, “Bridging the Gap,” 24.
224
The Negro Rural School and Its Relation to the Community, (Tuskegee: Tuskegee Institute, 1915): 25, 27, 91.
81
with Rosenwald monies. But as Rosenwald schools saw success and interracial tensions eased
over the course of the 1920s, the option for brick masonry siding eventually found its way into
later revisions of the Fund’s Community School Plans publications. Perhaps unknowingly, the
Whiteville community had broken the mold of the traditional Rosenwald school architectural
aesthetic by creating a better schoolhouse building, making it highly likely the “first brick
Rosenwald building in the South,” and certainly the first in Tennessee.
225
The original brick building was completed in the fall of 1920 and named Dorris Hall after
Dr. Edmund H. Dorris, Chairman of the Hardeman County School Board at the time of the
building’s erection. It was the HCTS campus’s only building for the first twelve years.
226
The
building was sited in a predominately Black residential neighborhood of Whiteville on the three
allotted acres. The Elcanaan Baptist Church, which shared a close social relationship with the
School over the years and now owns the campus today, was situated directly to the School’s
south. Surrounding the campus were residences on the north, east, and west. (Figure 3.2) The
1920 design for Dorris Hall embodied the architectural standards of the Rosenwald Fund later
depicted in the 6-A plan: its front façade faced south with three classrooms situated on each of
the east and west “H”-shaped wings for a total of six classrooms, with additional facilities
including an auditorium, library, cloakrooms, and a principal’s office at the center of the
building. The building sat on a concrete foundation with a metal gable and hipped roof. The front
of the building, the southernmost façade, consisted of a symmetrical central section with seven
bays. The central entrance was flanked by three windows with three sets of symmetrically placed
small rectangular fixed four pane lights at the cornice. On either side of the central entrance were
three two-over-two light windows. There were also additional wood doors near the point where
the central section met the gabled-end wings of the roof. On the east wing of the front façade, a
stone dedication marker was placed that includes names of the original HCTS Board of Trustees,
installed c. 1928. (Figure 3.3)
225
“Story of the Allen-White School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives; Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 21;
Robertson interview, 2022; West, “Allen-White School,” section 8, page 2.
226
Dorris Hall is no longer fully intact, the cause of which will be discussed in Chapter 4.
82
Figure 3.2: The Hardeman County Training School footprint depicted on a March 1930 Sanborn Fire Insurance
Map, courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives.
83
Figure 3.3: Cornerstone lists founding trustees of the Hardeman County Training School. Photo by the author,
October 2022.
A concrete porch with two square wood posts once supported a flat roof. The north
elevation, which was the rear of the school, had projecting brick gable wings like the front
façade. A metal shed roof porch supported by metal and wood posts covered a central entrance
of a double leaf door, which had a transom above. There were two sets of three windows
flanking either side of the rear central entrance, with two additional window openings in the
projecting brick wings. At the time of construction, the east and west elevations were almost
identical, both consisting of three large bays, one for each classroom, composed of six banks of
nine-over-nine double-hung sash windows, typical of the Rosenwald school design standards.
(Figure 3.4, Figure 3.5)
84
Figure 3.4: Photograph of Dorris Hall building, ca. March 1921, photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund
Supervisor, view northwest. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 91, box 30, item 10561.
Figure 3.5: Photograph of the recently completed Dorris Hall building, ca. 1920s, photographer unknown, view
northeast. Courtesy of the John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library Special Collection, Julius Rosenwald Fund
Archives, Fisk University.
85
In January 1920, when it was clear that school construction would be a success, the
Rosenwald Fund contributed the promised grant funding to the Whiteville community. The
locals had raised their own allotment of funding, including a pledge of $100 per month by
prolific local Black farmer Crawford Robertson, and had successfully petitioned the Hardeman
County Board of Education for the land and cooperation to build a Black school.
227
The grant
was allocated to the County Board “for the construction of a training school at Whiteville for
Negroes.”
228
Because the Rosenwald Fund did not match dollar-for-dollar contributions but
rather gave grants based on the size of school buildings, only $1,600 in funding was appropriated
to the school building efforts in Whiteville, the max amount offered for a six-room county
training schools per the Fund’s new “Plan for Distribution of Aid.”
229
As historian Carroll Van
West writes, “the funding for the school represented a significant investment by local African
American residents.” In addition to the grant provided by the Rosenwald Fund, “local white
residents provided an additional $1,600 and $2,000 came from public coffers. The rest of the
cost—$9,000—came from the local African American community.” The staggering $14,200
total raised for the new school building was “the largest single amount raised in the state of
Tennessee by African Americans for the construction of a Rosenwald school,” even exceeding
the total funding raised by Black community members in nearby Memphis for Manassas High
School, “the largest Rosenwald school constructed in the state.”
230
Students began attending school at Dorris Hall in February of 1920 shortly after the
Rosenwald Fund awarded the grant funding, at least seven months before construction was fully
complete on the building. For the first spring term, the staff included Principal Allen and three
assisting teachers: Sarah Stockall of Nashville, H.G. Norment, who was the daughter of Principal
Allen, and G.A. Shelton, the wife of Dr. Gilbert Shelton.
231
It was at this time that the School
was official renamed from Jesse C. Allen’s School for Colored Children to the Hardeman
County Training School. The new building housed the elementary department and the home
227
West, “Allen-White School,” section 7, page 1 and section 8, page 3; Additional architectural evidence gleaned
from campus photos by the author, Whiteville, Tennessee, 2022; Virginia Savage McAlester, A Field Guide to
American House: The Definitive Guide to Identifying and Understanding America’s Domestic Architecture (New
York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2013).
228
Edwin R. Embree, “Review of the Decade, 1917-1936,” Julius Rosenwald Fund, Chicago, 1930, 186, quoted in
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 21.
229
West, “Allen-White School,” section 8, page 2; Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools, 87, 116.
230
West, “Allen-White School,” section 8, pages 2-3.
231
Robertson, Education, 12.
86
economics department. The classrooms in Dorris Hall served as traditional primary level
academic spaces, with students in grades one through eight. The teachers likely taught students
across various grades and multiple subjects, including science, mathematics, reading, and
English. Included in the industrial curriculum were home economics classes for girls. An
additional room for the growing home economics department was added to the building in the
following decade. It is also possible that the building was home to the nursery established on
campus in 1934, which is said to have been the second nursery in Tennessee located on the
campus of a county training school. The nursery was part of the elementary department and
functioned as what would now be considered a pre-school.
232
At some point before 1950, the
library was also remodeled to accommodate the larger student body. Dorris Hall housed all
aspects of HCTS’s administration department, and chapel was held during school hours in the
building as well, likely in the auditorium or a separate chapel space. The auditorium was also
used for school assemblies, social gatherings, and fundraising events during the 1920s.
Later in the 1930s and ‘40s, the auditorium became a space used for school clubs and
organizations at the high school level, including the school band and choir singers. However, it
also remained a space for community social and fundraising events—the nucleus of the school
community. Dorris Hall’s library remained a fixture on campus until a new library space was
constructed in 1948. Although the original brick building eventually fell out of use as the
School’s campus outgrew its facilities by the late 1960s, various administrative, storage, and
office spaces remained operational in Dorris Hall until the School’s final closure in 1974.
233
The
HCTS community’s grassroots effort to build the new Dorris Hall building had proven a worthy
cause for construction, and the brick Rosenwald building remained a functional campus facility
for almost sixty years.
Early Principals and Fundraising Problems, 1920-1928
Not unlike the rural school program’s co-founder Booker T. Washington, Principal Jesse
C. Allen did not live to see his dream of a rural school in Whiteville completely realized. He died
unexpectedly in August 1920, just before Dorris Hall was completed for the fall term. In shock,
232
Robertson, Education, 18.
233
Elizabeth White, “Allen-White High School,” unknown publication, June 16, 1933, accessed October 10, 2022
from the local history room at the Bolivar-Hardeman County Library; Robertson, Education, 17-18, 30; Rivers,
“The History of Allen-White,” 11-25.
87
the Whiteville community grieved the loss of their education pioneer. “He was a commanding
presence when he stood before us…” said former HCTS student and teacher Myrtle Robertson in
a 1995 interview, “…he was one of the educational leaders of that time.”
234
The devastated
Whiteville community immediately began the search for a new Principal to replace Mr. Allen,
hoping to find a strong leader that could grow Allen’s vision for the new school in its first full-
year term.
On the recommendation of Samuel L. Smith and the Tennessee State Board of Education,
Luther L. Campbell of Knoxville, Tennessee soon filled the position. A graduate of Knoxville
College, Campbell had taken courses in agricultural and industrial education at Tennessee A&I.
According to historian Jerry Wayne Woods, “initially, Campbell’s credentials and personal
attributes impressed the Board as well as the local citizens, who felt that he was capable of
guiding the school to achieve its desired goals and purposes.”
235
But Campbell’s tenure lasted
only two years. In 1922, the new Principal resigned due to an “inability to work harmoniously
with the faculty and Board of Trustees representing the Negro patrons,” perhaps resulting from
“his apparent inability to control his temper.”
236
The Board of Trustees had tasked Campbell to
organize fundraising efforts within Whiteville’s Black community to help repay the $4,000
construction loan from the Whiteville Savings Bank, perhaps too monumental a task for the new
Principal on top of his responsibility to run the HCTS’s first successful year long term.
According to local historian Evelyn C. Robertson, Principal Campbell made little effort to chip
away at the loan repayment by “influenc[ing] the people not to pay the pledges that they had
made, and [leaving] the burden of the interest on the original $4,000 on the shoulders of the
Trustees.”
237
His resulting departure seemed to be a mutually agreed upon decision by both
Campbell and the Trustees.
But despite Campbell’s failure to appease the Board, he must be partially credited for the
initial success of the HCTS in its first two years of operation. In 1921, during Campbell’s stint as
Principal, the School was included in a report prepared by Saulsbury, Hardeman County native
Wickliffe Rose for the Rockefeller funded General Education Board (GEB). Rose’s findings
234
“Myrtle Robertson Remembers,” February 1, 1995, Bolivar Bulletin-Times, 20-20A, Bolivar Bulletin Archives,
Bolivar Tennessee, quoted in Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 172.
235
Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 173.
236
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 21; Rivers “The History of Allen-White,” 23.
237
Robertson, Education, 12.
88
exemplified the demand for rural schoolhouses in West Tennessee, and their inherent monetary
and social value to the public school system. During its 1920-1921 school term, Rose found that
the HCTS occupied 3.5 acres and had begun cultivating half-an-acre for agricultural purposes.
The School had employed five total teachers for a nine-month school term (two additional hires
from the short spring term prior to Principal Allen’s death), and taught a total of 303 students, an
increase of 99 students since the year prior. Sixteen of the students were listed as having taken
classes above the seventh grade, likely because most students left after elementary school to
work in the fields with their families.
According to Rose’s report, the Dorris Hall building was valued at $15,000, its school
equipment at $500, and $350 for the School’s land. By 1921, the HCTS had obtained an
additional $900 in funding from the GEB, $250 of which was to be allocated to the Home
Economics Department and $500 for industrial shop equipment. $150 of the donation was used
to purchase blackboards with a matching $150 from the local community. Additional public
funds for the School totaled $3,100 and other sources totaled $2,191, including a promised grant
donation of between $300-$400 from the Slater Fund each year in the early 1920s, a
philanthropic organization whose focus was on county training schools such as the one in
Whiteville.
238
It is unclear whether Campbell or the Trustees were responsible for acquiring the
additional funding during the School’s first two years in operation, but its presence in Whiteville
was certainly gaining recognition as a premier facility for industrial education for Black students
in West Tennessee.
Even with public attention, it required consistent effort and a steady relationship between
the Trustees and the HCTS Principal to encourage local Black residents to contribute funds to
help repay the $4,000 mortgage needed to keep Dorris Hall in operation throughout the decade.
Julius Rosenwald and Booker T. Washington had implemented a challenge grant structure to the
rural school building program, a one-time allocation that was not meant as a recurring
endowment for any single school. Because of Washington and the Fund’s mutual philanthropic
philosophy of self-help and determination, the Whiteville community had to come up with the
238
“Buildings Costing $10,000 or More,” box 343, folder 7, Projects/Persons Requesting Aid (Rural School
program, Tennessee 1-3), Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives, 1917-1948, John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library,
Fisk University, Nashville; West, “Allen-White School,” section 8, pages 3-4.
89
money to repay the loan themselves.
239
The Board found a new leader in George W. Thomas of
Chattanooga, Tennessee. Thomas took on the principalship at the HCTS after graduating from
Roger Williams University in Nashville. Despite his likable character, Thomas soon found
himself in a similar position to that of Campbell, having “showed an inadequacy in connection
with the problem of raising funds with which to repay the loan made by the Trustee Board.”
240
Reluctant to dismiss Thomas prematurely, the Trustees—led by Dr. Shelton—petitioned
the Hardeman County Board of Education to help the Black community in Whiteville find a new
principal that “could unify the community behind the school program,” with the hope that “a
person possessing the tact of Professor Allen,” as he was referred by the HCTS community,
“might be appointed.”
241
Throughout the 1920s, Principal Thomas did have some success
repaying the School’s loan, having reduced the payment by $500 in 1923 and $400 in 1924. His
efforts quickly lapsed, and school funding efforts remained slow for the next several years. The
initial donations dried up and Dorris Hall suffered deferred maintenance as the decade
progressed. The HCTS community barely had enough money to continue the School as the
Depression approached, and a few dedicated farmers mortgaged their farms or even sold them in
their determination to keep the School going.
242
In the summer of 1928, Principal Thomas gave
notice of his resignation after losing the support of the community during his six-year span as
Principal, which resulted in sunken morale and doubt over HCTS’s future.
243
If they were going
to uplift the School out of its financial debt and into a new era of expansion, Whiteville’s
residents needed a new visionary.
James H. White and a New Approach, 1928-1930
Shortly before resigning, Principal George Thomas met a young man named James
Herbert White on a train from West Tennessee to Nashville. Thomas told White about the
Hardeman County Training School and the difficulty he and his predecessor Principal Campbell
had experienced resulting from the School’s ongoing financial burden. White offered suggestions
for ways to raise money that would help liquidate the School’s debt with public support from
239
Peter M. Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald: The Man Who Built Sears Roebuck and Advanced the Cause of Black
Education in the American South, (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006): 152.
240
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 23.
241
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 24.
242
Robertson interview, 2022.
243
Robertson, Education, 13; “Story of the Allen-White School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives.
90
both Black and White residents. Principal Thomas remarked, “Do you realize that you are the
very man who should go to Whiteville? You are the man for the job. I feel you could help the
people there a great deal if you would accept it.”
244
Principal Thomas took his proposal back to
the HCTS Board of Trustees, who then offered White the principalship on the additional
recommendation of new Negro State Agent Ollie H. Bernard who had succeeded Samuel L.
Smith in 1920 following Smith’s promotion to the Rosenwald Fund.
245
White was the grandson of two former enslaved persons and the child of two illiterate
parents, born in Gallatin, Tennessee. He graduated from Tennessee A&I University in 1924.
After completing his studies in agriculture and industrial training, the young academic became
the Assistant Principal at Montgomery High School in Lexington, Tennessee. Determined to
exceed the societal boundaries placed on southern Black men in the early twentieth century,
White told his mother as a young boy, “…don’t you worry about me. You just keep on helping
me all you can. Some day I’ll make you proud of me. I’ll be a college president before I’m forty
years old.” Seeing no option but success, White replaced Thomas as HCTS’s new Principal in
September 1928. He spent his first few summers in New York obtaining a master’s degree from
Columbia University to bolster his teaching credibility in Whiteville. The Hardeman County
community had finally fulfilled their longing for a leader like founder Jesse C. Allen, one that
would be steadfast in his effort to grow the school into a successful regional plant.
246
Principal White and his wife Augusta arrived in Whiteville that fall to a “dilapidated, run-
down shell of a building” with almost $5,000 in outstanding interest costs on the construction
loan from a decade prior. His own observation of the conditions in Hardeman County reflects the
situation of many rural Black Rosenwald communities in West Tennessee at the time, many of
which were struggling from the subjugation of sharecropping, low cotton prices, and resulting
economic hardships:
…the community was hostile, race relations were poor, the country was on the brink of
the Great Depression, and the concern for education was at a low ebb. The only positive
aspects of the job were a challenge and a fertile field for hard labor.
247
244
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 22, quoted in Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 174.
245
Story of the Allen-White School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives; Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools,166.
246
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 7; Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 24; Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,”
174; Robertson, Education, 15.
247
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 17.
91
Dorris Hall had no electricity or indoor toilets when Principal White arrived, and the School was
in desperate need of repairs. According to his memoir Up From A Cotton Patch: J.H. White and
the Development of Mississippi Valley State College, despite the economic circumstances and
obvious lack of morale, “Dr. White did not want the citizens to believe that he was discouraged
just because they were discouraged themselves.”
248
The new Principal immediately went to work
organizing a Parent Teacher Association (PTA) for the HCTS with the desire to build stronger
community relations in Whiteville to rally support for the School.
Along with the parents and community leaders that comprised the PTA, White quickly
organized HCTS’s first fundraiser. The event took place on Thanksgiving Day in 1928, just two
months after he became Principal. Thanksgiving coincided with the harvest season in West
Tennessee when rural farming families likely had some extra income to donate to the cause for
education in Whiteville. The PTA set a goal of $1,000 for the drive, which was surpassed by the
community’s donation of $1,179 at the conclusion of the day’s events. Principal White’s efforts
gained more support after the Thanksgiving rally, and the campaign was repeated the following
year for a total of $3,128 raised by the community in 1929. With additional funding from the
Board of Trustees to reach the $4,000 loan amount plus interest, the HCTS had raised enough
money to pay back its mortgage in only one year of Principal White’s tenure. To celebrate, the
Whiteville community held a mortgage burning ceremony at the conclusion of the 1929
Thanksgiving Day drive with special guests Katherine Ingram, the Hardeman County School
System’s Superintendent, and Dudley Tanner, then Negro State Agent for Tennessee. (Figure
3.6) This act signified that the decade of debt was finally at an end for the Hardeman County
Training School.
249
248
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 24.
249
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 22-24; Robertson, Education, 16-17.
92
Figure 3.6: Hardeman County Training School mortgage burning ceremony, November 1929, photographer
unknown, view north. Courtesy of Evelyn C. Robertson personal collection.
The first two Thanksgiving rallies were such a success that the campaign became an
annual event at the School for the next several decades, growing over the years to include
programmatic events like pie struts, box supper competitions, community picnics, a minstrel and
comedy show, and a banquet, which will be discussed in more detail in the next chapter. Each
year, members of the Board of Trustees and PTA were assigned an area in Hardeman County to
solicit pledges. At the time, the HCTS was one of only two industrial training schools in the
County that served Black students at the primary level, the other being Bolivar Industrial, which
also taught students through eighth grade in the county seat. Consequently, the School’s leaders
knew that Black residents in surrounding parts of the County would be interested in their
fundraising campaign because they also would benefit from an expanded school campus that
would provide opportunities for students who lived in rural communities beyond the Town of
Whiteville.
When November came, solicitors would travel to their assigned territories, talk to both
Black and White residents about the mission of the HCTS, and then report their pledges at the
rally. Those who pledged contributions included rural wage earners such as sawmill and
domestic workers, farm owners and tenants, and members of church congregations and lodges.
Many pledged monetary donations with their small surplus of harvest income, but some also
93
donated their time in labor or materials for future construction projects. Some agriculture
workers planted extra cotton or raised hogs to sell on behalf of the School, and others cut trees
for lumber or even donated small sections of land surrounding the School’s campus. By
organizing community members into competitive committees for the annual rally, Professor
White, a nickname given that was reminiscent of his predecessor, was able to incentivize
fundraising efforts and boost morale for school building aspirations at the HCTS, thus proving
that Booker T. Washington and the Rosenwald Fund’s ethos of self-determination worked in
local communities with good leadership and grassroots organization. In the 1929-1930 school
year, the PTA raised $5,172.44 and continued to raise large donations for school improvement
from the Thanksgiving drive each year thereafter.
250
To incentivize local communities participating in the rural school building program, the
Rosenwald Fund also created its own annual fundraising event called Rosenwald Day. In a
December 1930 memo to the Fund headquarters in Chicago, Nashville Director Samuel L. Smith
concluded there was a need to beautify and improve Rosenwald schools across the South,
especially as the effects of the 1929 market crash took hold in the region. Smith declared March
6
th
to be Rosenwald Day, and outlined a framework for its success, which included Rosenwald
funding for promotional marketing materials to be distributed to participating communities,
prizes for state education departments that grossed the highest amount of donations, and
additional prizes for specific schools based on the upkeep of Rosenwald building features like
properly hung windows and a protected drinking supply. A highly publicized event, the intention
of Rosenwald Day was not only to drive donations from Black communities at the statewide
level, but to “refocus these events from the community and its school to the Rosenwald building
program and its place in the philanthropic pantheon for southern black education.”
251
A June 1932 report revealed that Tennessee led fundraising efforts for Rosenwald Day
that March, and the HCTS had ranked sixth place in the state for gross donations from White
contributors of the 343 schools surveyed. This finding indicates that racialized hostility had
eased and support for the county training school in Whiteville was growing. This shift likely
250
Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 181-184; Robertson, Education, 51-58.
251
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools,140-142; “S.L. Smith to Alfred K. Stern of Chicago,” box 332, folder 2,
Projects/Persons Requesting Aid (Rural School Program), Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives, 1917-1948, John Hope
and Aurelia E. Franklin Library, Fisk University, Nashville.
94
resulted from Principal James H. White’s ability to work across racialized groups and appeal to
White attitudes regarding Black education to acquire financial support in Hardeman County
during the Jim Crow Era, much like the building program’s co-founder Booker T. Washington
had done during his years at Tuskegee. The Hardeman County Training School did participate in
Rosenwald Day each year, however because of their own success with the Thanksgiving rally,
the School did not need the small allocation offered by the Fund for printing materials to
publicize the Rosenwald School Day event locally. Their own grassroots fundraising efforts had
proven to be more successful with the Black community in Hardeman County than even that of
the greater Rosenwald Fund. However, the School did accept a few smaller donations from the
Fund in the 1930-1931 school year, including a $40 donation for elementary library materials,
$100 for vocational equipment, and a $500 construction loan for an industrial shop on campus, a
building incentive the Fund had phased in during its 1920 reorganization to promote the
construction of larger regional county training schools.
252
With the monies obtained from the Thanksgiving drive, Rosenwald Day, and additional
grants from the Fund, the PTA and Trustees immediately began allocating revenue for needed
campus improvements, additional staff, and new school facilities. Since 1928, Principal White
had added three more teachers to the School roster, including his wife Augusta C. White and
teachers L.E. Fitzgerald and J.C. Adams. In 1929, he added a fourth teacher to direct the band,
Mr. Lockert. In the same year, Principal White also used funding to establish a new school paper
called the Hardeman County Mirror, knowing that a school paper would help keep the
community informed of the happenings and fundraising events at the HCTS, and could help raise
money itself with advertising revenue from local businesses.
253
Later in 1929, the new Principal
asked Superintendent Ingram to pay for a new roof for Dorris Hall with public revenue from the
Hardeman County School Board. His petition was successful, and the roof was fixed. By the end
of 1929, running water had been added to Dorris Hall as well.
But what the building needed most was electricity, and Principal White struggled to
overcome racialized hostility in the effort to bring power to the school. He approached West
252
“Annual Report to the Julius Rosenwald Fund, July 1, 1929-June 30,1930,” box 343, folder 7, Projects/Persons
Requesting Aid (Rural School Program, Tennessee), Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives, 1917-1948, John Hope and
Aurelia E. Franklin Library, Fisk University, Nashville; “1930-1931 Fund Disbursement for Construction;” box 343,
folder 8, Projects/Persons Requesting Aid (Rural School Program, Tennessee), Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives,
1917-1948, John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library, Fisk University, Nashville.
253
Robertson, Education, 16.
95
Tennessee Electric and Power Company Association headquartered in Jackson, Tennessee to
provide power for Dorris Hall, which was situated three-quarters of a mile from their Whiteville
location. White had already secured labor from local farmers who agreed to furnish eighteen
thirty-five-foot chestnut poles “to meet the company’s specifications in order to bring electricity
to the school.” The company’s officials refused, citing that “they could not bring lights that far
for a Negro school.” To remedy the situation, Principal White requested a meeting with the
Commissioner of Utilities in Nashville, who then heard his case in front of the Utilities
Committee. “After [I] described the community, the school, and [my] plans for helping to build a
good community and school,” White wrote in his memoir, “the commissioner promised to
investigate the situation. He later ruled that if the utility company did not bring the lights to
Hardeman County Training School, it would have to give up the franchise in Whiteville.” The
1929-1930 school year began with students and faculty using gas lamps, and by Christmas the
West Tennessee Electric and Power Company Association’s Whiteville location had installed the
new electric lights.
254
When asked about Principal White’s tenacity in a 1994 interview, former
student and Hardeman County historian Alfreeda Lake McKinney quipped “he knew where the
big plums were and he know how to shake the trees.”
255
In his short time as the School’s new leader, Principal White had proven himself an
ambitious visionary committed to accomplishing the goals for the HCTS originally set forth by
Jesse C. Allen. By 1930, Dorris Hall had been repaired and updated to fit the modern standards
of education required by the Rosenwald Fund. With additional hires, the faculty was now
equipped to handle more students in higher grade levels across various subjects. Principal
White’s fervent dedication and successful fundraising tactics, coupled with the bootstrap ethos
that had permeated into the community by Washington and the Rosenwald Fund, created the
foundation on which the HCTS could now expand into a successful county school plant that
would function as the anchor to the Whiteville community and serve students from first grade
through high school.
254
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 22-23; Robertson, Education, 16-17.
255
Alfreeda Lake McKinney, interviewed by Jerry Wayne Woods, September 3, 1994, quoted in Woods, “Julius
Rosenwald Fund,” 175.
96
The Allen-White School Years: Growing an Industrial School Plant
Renaming the School, The NYA Program, and Campus Expansion, 1930-1948
Recently freed of their financial burden and now able to afford new school facilities,
Principal White, the Trustees, and the PTA were finally ready to extend the HCTS campus
beyond Dorris Hall and above the eighth grade. In September 1930, W.E. Turner, State Director
of Negro Education in Tennessee, visited the School and contributed input for its future
development. The community wanted to build additional academic and industrial facilities on
donated land around the campus and needed support from public officials like Turner to obtain
high school accreditation. A new Public School Law had passed in Tennessee in 1925, which
unified all schools enacted since the 1873 advent of the segregated public school system in the
state. The legislation encouraged county boards to establish and maintain junior and senior high
schools where the need was present, regardless of racialized status. In Hardeman County, the law
was met with support from both Black and White communities who would benefit from new
high school facilities. Most White residents were indifferent toward the idea of creating high
schools for Black students in the County. Although the inequity and segregationist attitude
driven by White supremacy during the Jim Crow years persisted, rural White farmers, the
demographic most often responsible for hostility toward Black communities in West Tennessee,
were preoccupied with the devastating losses of income and plunging property values that had
ensued in the early years of the Great Depression. As a result, the provisions of the Public School
Law and the current economic climate created the right conditions for the HCTS to obtain the
social support it needed expand.
256
In 1930, the HCTS became one of only two Black schools in Hardeman County accredited to
teach students two years of a public high school education. The following year, the Hardeman
County Board of Education voted to rename the School. It was now to be called the Allen-White
School for elementary and junior high, with Allen-White High School serving grades nine and
ten. Allen-White (AW; School) was named after the HCTS’s founder and first principal Jesse C.
Allen, as well as the current principal and “maker” of the School’s success, James H. White. By
the start of the 1931-1932 school term, two more grades had been added to AW for a total of four
years of accredited high school education that accepted students from surrounding communities
256
“Story of the Allen-White School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives; Robertson interview, 2022; Hoffschwelle, “Public
Education in Tennessee,” 2014.
97
who came to Whiteville to attend the School. The HCTS met the state’s requirements for high
school curriculum: four units in English, one in mathematics, one in health education, three in a
major (i.e. agriculture, trade, home economics), two each in two minors, and two electives.
Principal White hired teachers with “sound educational training and philosophies congruent with
the school’s aim” from reputable colleges and universities across the country. AW was now a
functioning consolidated public school and the first Black school in Hardeman County to teach
grades one through twelve for Hardeman County residents. It would remain the only Black high
school to offer the four full years of high school education until 1959. AW’s first graduating
class of thirteen students graduated in the spring of 1933, ten of which went on to attend
college.
257
The additional grades added at AW reflect a broader pattern of school development that took
place over the 1930s, which was heavily influenced by philanthropic participation of the
Rosenwald Fund and other ancillary foundations. In his 1928 “Report on Negro Schools,”
Samuel L. Smith wrote:
…serious effort is now being made in the states to increase the number of accredited Negro
high schools, using the same standard by which the white high schools are rated. This
accelerated high school process has been due to (1) the development of the rural school
building program in which thousands are induced to remain through the elementary grades,
(2) the influence of the Slater Fund and the General Education Board in developing county
training schools, (3) the policy of the school officials for better trained teachers, and (4) the
great desire of the Negroes themselves to give their children the best possible educational
facilities even at much sacrifice.
In the same study, Smith indicated that Tennessee ranked second among southern states for its
number of teachers employed in a rural Black school, falling only behind Louisiana. He also
indicated that the average term length of Rosenwald schools was around 6.5 months, with
Tennessee conducting above average terms spanning about seven months in length.
258
AW was
no exception to the high standards set by Tennessee Rosenwald schools, and the county training
school in Whiteville gained national recognition from state agents and philanthropic
organizations as Professor White took his fundraising efforts beyond the local community during
his twenty-year tenure as Principal, soliciting donations to hire additional staff and raise money
257
Woods, Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 188; Robertson, Education, 9, 17.
258
“Report on Rural Schools by S.L. Smith, September 1, 1928,” box 331, folder 8, Projects/Persons Requesting
Aid (Rural School Program), Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives, 1917-1948, John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin
Library, Fisk University, Nashville.
98
for new campus buildings. In addition to his position at AW, Principal White served as
Hardeman County’s Jeanes Supervising Teacher until 1939, a position that helped broaden his
network of benefactors as well. In 1933, Allen-White was part of a Rosenwald school exhibit in
the Social Science Building at the Chicago World’s Fair Centennial Celebration. Because he was
a member of the Fair’s Board of Trustees, Julius Rosenwald likely used his position to leverage a
display that touted his work with the Rosenwald Fund’s school building program, especially its
more recent success establishing public high schools and county training schools for Black
students across the South.
259
But even with Principal White’s ability to bring in new benefactors and increase AW’s
exposure, Tennessee’s public schools still suffered during the Depression years, and the poor
economic conditions in West Tennessee threatened to divert financial support away from public
education. The economic disaster led to New Deal federal programs bolstered by President
Franklin D. Roosevelt. The challenge of the Great Depression, immediately followed by the
urgent circumstances of World War II, encouraged Tennesseans to seek aid for their public
schools that combined local and state revenue with additional federal funding offered by the
government. Local leaders across the state lobbied the Tennessee General Assembly in the first
half of the decade to protect public education in the state budget. Their efforts, along with
emergency funding from the Civil Works Administration (CWA) and Federal Emergency Relief
Administration (FERA), kept Tennessee schools in operation during the first few years of the
Depression. In 1935, three New Deal agencies—the Public Works Administration (PWA), the
Works Progress Administration (WPA), and the National Youth Administration (NYA)—played
a pivotal role in temporarily replacing the depleted budgets of Tennessee’s public schools by
appropriating large sums of federal dollars into the public education infrastructure. The
inequities of segregation persisted, however, and although Black schools received funding from
New Deal programs, their allocations were often inadequate compared to White schools.
260
259
Robertson, Education, 15-18; “J.H. White to W.E. Turner, December 12, 1939” box 295, folder 13, microfilm,
Record Group 92, Tennessee Department of Education Commissioner’s Records 1913-1970, Tennessee State
Archives, Nashville; “Official Guide Book of the Fair, Chicago 1933,” The Cuneo Press Inc., 1933, accessed
November 28, 2022,
http://livinghistoryofillinois.com/pdf_files/Official%20guide%20book%20of%20the%20fair%20Chicago,%201933.
pdf; Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald: The Man Who Built Sears Roebuck and Advanced the Cause of Black Education in
the American South, (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006): 379.
260
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014.
99
By the mid-1930s, Allen-White was already in progress on new facilities for the county
school plant. In addition to buildings that would support the expanded curriculum, Principal
White and the school leaders focused their attention on constructing dormitories for students who
came from other parts of Hardeman County to attend AW. At the time, students had to travel by
wagon or by foot for miles to get to school because there was no public funding for bus
transportation to Black schools in Hardeman County. With infrastructure to support student and
teacher housing, AW would be able to retain a higher number of enrolled students and grow the
teaching staff as needed. The expansion plans that were already in action made the training
school in Whiteville an excellent candidate for a National Youth Administration (NYA)
program, one of the three New Deal organizations that offered federal funding to Tennessee
schools during the financial crisis. The organization worked to curb rising youth unemployment
rates by creating work and education opportunities for American between the ages of 16-25. The
NYA’s mission to provide vocational training with a learning-by-doing ethos coincided with that
of the Rosenwald Fund and other philanthropies and state agencies that encouraged the same
mentality at county training schools like AW. As a result, many county training schools across
the South hosted NYA programs during the Depression years, and NYA students were often
involved with Rosenwald school beautification programs like Rosenwald Day.
261
An NYA program was established on Allen-White’s campus in the fall of 1936, likely the
first resident NYA project in Tennessee, based on the School’s burgeoning reputation.
262
The
program initially consisted of forty-five boys who had previously left school and now returned
with the New Deal financial support to complete their education while also earning a living wage
by working at the School. Although they did participate in the agriculture department, most of
the male NYA students took to the trade department where they were tasked with construction
projects around the campus, learning skills like carpentry, brick masonry, and windowmaking.
The program quickly expanded to include girls as well, all of whom participated in home
261
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014; “National Youth Administration,” Encyclopedia of
Oklahoma History & Culture, Oklahoma Historical Society, accessed November 29, 2022,
https://web.archive.org/web/20120102040611/http://digital.library.okstate.edu/encyclopedia/entries/N/NA014.html.
“1936-1937 Improvement and Beautification Project,” box 331, folder 10, Projects/Persons Requesting Aid (Rural
School Program), Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives, 1917-1948, John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library, Fisk
University, Nashville.
262
“James H. White to Eleanor Roosevelt, July 23, 1942,” box 369, folder 12, Projects/Persons Requesting Aid
(J.H. White), Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives, 1917-1948, John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library, Fisk
University, Nashville.
100
economics classes to learn various domestic trades while working in service jobs on campus to
earn their wage. As the school plant grew, so did its enrollment. Allen-White served as a fully
functioning boarding school from about 1932-1941, with an active NYA program from 1936
until 1941 when campus New Deal programs immediately ceased after the United States entered
World War II following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
263
AW attracted students interested in the work program, athletics, and co-curricular student
activities from eleven Tennessee counties during these years, including forty-three students from
Fayette County, twenty-eight from Haywood County, sixteen from Sumner County, twelve from
Montgomery County, seven from Davidson County, four from Madison County, and one each
from Obion, McNairy, Gibson, Crockett, and Shelby Counties, in addition to the majority of
pupils from Hardeman County.
264
In addition to those from Tennessee, other students boarded at
the School to take part in the NYA program from neighboring states Mississippi, Arkansas, and
Kentucky. The School’s success was coveted by the Whiteville community, as former student
Minerva Jackson recounts, “they all wanted to be a part of Allen-White and the Whiteville
community. Even folks in Bolivar, where the county seat was.”
265
Ironically, it was during the years of the Great Depression and early war years that the Allen-
White School saw its greatest success. Operations at AW mirrored institutions of higher
education in the region such as the Tuskegee Institute, which gained a positive reputation for the
students’ ability to create educational opportunities through industrial training that propelled
Black economic mobility using Booker T. Washington’s philosophy of self-reliance in the
context of the segregated Jim Crow South. Principal White had created the same environment in
Whiteville, and by June 1940, AW had obtained an “A” letter Certificate of Honor from the
Hardeman County Board of Education for meeting quality standards of education.
266
The School
had made a significant impact on the local Black community as well as White residents’ attitudes
toward Black education, although still seen as inferior to White advancement at the time.
According to a local reporter for the Hardeman County Times in 1943:
263
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 25-27; Robertson, Education, 22.
264
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 37-39.
265
Minerva Jarrett, interviewed by Jerry Wayne Woods, January 21,1995, quoted in Woods, “Julius Rosenwald
Fund,” 184.
266
“R. Lee Thomas to Henry Jacobs, Superintendent, June 20, 1940,” Tennessee Department of Education Records
1874-1987, Record Group 273, series IV, box 36, items 19-20, microfilm, Tennessee State Archives, Nashville.
101
The Allen-White High School is heard of in all sections of the country for the type of work
done through its leader, J.H. White. This school is widely known for its community activities
which sponsor progressive education in all its phases. The Education Policy Commission
rated the school as one of the four leading schools in the United States in carrying out a
program of citizenship. The relationship between the white people of the county and the
school has been good. The school has served a great purpose and in times like these it is fine
to have a school like Allen-White.
267
With the help of the NYA program, Allen-White’s enrollment grew, student organizations
flourished, and as a result of student labor, the campus grew to comprise of almost a dozen total
buildings, including the original Dorris Hall six-room schoolhouse. Each of the School’s
additional landscapes, structures, and buildings erected during the Great Depression and World
War II years are described in the sections hereafter.
268
Fields and Landscaping
The fields surrounding Allen-White’s campus played an important role in the School’s
agriculture curriculum and social activities, although little evidence remains to accurately site
them on campus. It is assumed that any additional acreage of the three total acres given to the
School by the Hardeman County Board of Education through the deal with Clay Crowder in
1919 not used for Dorris Hall was used to support the School’s agriculture department for male
students, initially taught by teachers A.C. Williams and William Harris. Based on student
accounts, the fields were located to the west, north, and northeast of the campus buildings. They
consisted of plotted fields for agriculture, recreation fields, and, in later years, one area to the
north of campus was developed into a baseball field with a track to support the baseball, cross
country, and football teams.
By 1939, the agriculture department was using surrounding field plots to experiment with
crop harvests, primarily corn and potatoes. Livestock such as cows, chickens, and hogs were also
raised in the fields and sold locally to raise money for the School. Students of the agriculture
department helped clean ditches, repair roads, trim lawns, and assist with plantings and harvest
for neighboring farmers as well. AW’s fields were home to the School’s New Farmers of
267
“Allen-White School,” September 6, 1943, 1, Hardeman County Times, Bolivar Bulletin Archives, Bolivar,
Tennessee, quoted in Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 185.
268
See Figure 3.21 at the end of this chapter for a site plan of Allen-White’s campus during the height of its
construction years, ca. 1930-1950. For more photographs of the buildings on the Allen-White campus, see
Appendices E (historic photographs) and F (modern photographs).
102
Tennessee chapter and in some years served as the location for Hardeman County’s annual Field
Day, an event that took place with participation from several Black schools in the County.
269
A
1946 issue of the school paper—by then renamed the Allen-White Voice—announced the call for
donations to raise $10,000 from Whiteville residents to match a conditional grant for $17,000
offered by the General Education Board (GEB), $2,000 of which would be allocated toward the
purchase of a sixty-five acre farm “adjoining the school.” The new land would be used to house
“the cannery, hatchery, farm shop, and butchery.” It is unclear if the funds were ever raised by
the community to secure GEB funding for the additional farmland, however classes in these
areas of agriculture were still incorporated into the curriculum.
270
Closer to the School’s campus buildings was a truck garden and other subsidiary garden
plots used by both the agriculture department and the home economics department. Boys helped
grow the crops while girls in home economics classes used vegetable and herbs for cooking
classes and learned to can and preserve foods from the garden for long-term kitchen storage.
271
AW’s campus was minimally yet well landscaped, with various species of conifer trees, shrubs,
and hedges throughout. The campus was enclosed by white x-crossed fencing, and each building
was connected with concrete walkways that bisected grass lawns. At the campus’ main entry was
a concrete circle walkway with a flagpole at its center.
272
During the 1934-1935 school year,
Allen-White won “most beautiful school in Hardeman County” as well as the “school making the
most improvement” in the Rosenwald Fund’s first annual Improvement and Beautification of
School Plants” contest, also known as the “Schoolground Improvement Competition.” In
Tennessee, thirty-three counties and two hundred schools participated that year and were judged
269
Information here regarding the locations and functions of AW’s fields are based on various oral history
interviews collected by photographer and historian Ann Smithwick in: Ann Smithwick, “Rosenwald Revisited:
Wisdom from the Elders,” project materials, 2004-2007. Additional interviews to support these claims were
conducted by the author with former Allen-White students including Evelyn C. Robertson, Odell Greene, Charles
Johnson, Fredell Harris, Cosette Crawford, Ocie Holmes, George Dotson, and Johnny Shaw between October 13-14,
2022 in Whiteville, Tennessee. Each interviewee was asked to complete a memory map to help aid in the author’s
understanding of the Allen-White campus layout. Additional information about the agriculture curriculum at AW
was sourced from a report on four county training schools in the South during the Depression years: Dr. Fred
McCuiston, “Learning the Ways of Democracy,” Educational Policies Commission Report, General Education
Board, Washington D.C., 1943, 318-319.
270
“Our Present Needs,” The Allen-White Voice, November 12, 1946, 3, James H. White Collection, Mississippi
Valley State University, Itta Bena, Mississippi.
271
Smithwick, “Rosenwald Revisited” interviews, 2004-2006; Author, student interviews, 2022; “Democracy,”
Educational Policies Commission, 1940.
272
Description of campus landscaping elements based on photographs from the Tennessee Department of Education
Records 1874-1984, Record Group 273A, “Schoolhouse photos, 1938-1942,” boxes 2, 3, 8, various photographs,
Tennessee State Archives, Nashville.
103
based on score card criterion including fencing, landscaping, grading and terracing, among other
categories. It is likely that AW participated in the contest in the following years as well. By the
School’s closure in 1974, much of the landscaping from the 1930s-1950s had been removed.
273
Playgrounds and Parking Lot
In addition to recreational field spaces, Allen-White’s campus had several playground
locations as well. During the 1930s-1940s, the playground was located in the lawn space near the
School’s entrance, south of Dorris Hall and north of the neighboring Elcanaan Baptist Church.
The original playground had at least two swing sets, two slides, a seesaw, and a concrete rink for
skating.
274
(Figure 3.7) In AW’s later years, another playground was built on the west side of
what is now Jarrett Road, parallel to the campus with additional swing sets and slides. These
spaces were primarily used by students at the elementary level. Junior high and high schoolers
preferred to sit on the campus lawns or use the ball fields during recess.
Figure 3.7: “Playground equipment and skating rink” in front of Dorris Hall, photographed by an unknown Jeanes
Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report, view west. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record
Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942, item number 8.
273
“W.E. Turner to S.L. Smith, Improvement and Beautification of School Plants, Plan for County and State
Contest, 1934-1935,” box 331, folder 9, Projects/Persons Requesting Aid (Rural School Program)), Julius
Rosenwald Fund Archives, 1917-1948, John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library, Fisk University, Nashville.
274
“Schoolhouse photos, 1938-1942,” record RG273, “Playground equipment & skating rink, April 30, 1939,”
Tennessee State Archives.
104
By 1933, the Allen-White campus had a parking lot near the entrance of the school on
Allen-White Extension Avenue, west of the campus buildings and east of what is now Simmons
Street. The paved lot was primarily used for transportation to and from school and as a recreation
space because most of the School’s community members did not own a car.
275
During the 1920s
and 1930s Jim Crow years, there existed no publicly funded transportation system for Black
students in Hardeman County as there had been for White students since public schools
consolidated. Some students had to travel great distances to get to Allen-White from across the
rural region and neighboring counties, and many could not afford to stay in the dorms. School
leaders sought to remedy this issue by raising funds specifically for a bus line to and from the
campus at the annual Thanksgiving rally. Their efforts were successful during the 1931-1932
drive, and by 1933 the PTA had purchased a bus to transport twenty students over sixty-five
miles between Whiteville and Grand Junction for $1 per month. (Figure 3.8) A local named
Johnny Robertson was the first bus driver. In 1934, the PTA raised enough money to purchase
another bus for use by AW’s athletic teams, the traveling choral group and band, and for field
trips.
In 1936, the County Board of Education made its first step toward aiding the Allen-White
community with transportation services when the PTA found it financially impossible to
continue operating the busses it had been supplying after community members were unwilling to
undergo another round of self-taxation to support the unfair transportation system. To aid in the
cause, a local Black resident of Bolivar named Austin Fentress purchased a bus and began
transporting students over seventy-eight miles a day to AW’s campus. The Board assumed part
of Fentress’ operating costs and paid him a monthly salary. In 1940, Hardeman County finally
stepped in to assist Black public schools with transportation, and in 1943 the Board purchased
the bus from Fentress and assumed control of the public school bus line to and from Allen-
White. The two busses owned by the School were kept at AW’s parking lot, along with some
cars owned by students, parents, and teachers in later years. Ultimately, it too the Hardeman
County Board of education over thirty years to provide transportation for Black students since it
had begun the public service for White public schools.
276
275
Author, student interviews, 2022.
276
Robertson, Education, 17, 30; Rivers “The History of Allen-White,” 39-40; McKinney, “Allen-White School,” 4-
5.
105
Figure 3.8: One of the first campus busses in front of Ingram Hall, ca. 1930s, photographer unknown, view north.
Courtesy of Evelyn C. Robertson personal collection.
Ingram Hall, 1930
After ten years of fundraising, the first new building erected on Allen-White’s campus
since Dorris Hall in 1920 was a dormitory for girls and teachers. The building was named
Ingram Hall after Hardeman County’s former Superintendent Katherine Ingram, who had been
an instrumental advocate for Black education in the County during the HCTS years. Completed
in 1930, Ingram Hall was a two-story Colonial frame structure on a brick foundation with white
clapboard siding and double hung six-over-six sash windows.
277
(Figure 3.9, Figure 3.10) It was
located about one hundred yards northwest of Dorris Hall. It consisted of fifteen double-bed
dorm rooms to accommodate a total of thirty female students and teachers. Like others on in
progress on campus, the building was constructed by students in the trade department at AW.
Ingram Hall’s primary purpose was to board girls and teachers who came from other parts of the
state and country to learn and teach. A few other spaces were included in its design, including a
277
Schoolhouse photos, 1938-1942,” RG 33323, “Front and side view, Teacher’s Home, Whiteville, Tenn.,
Hardeman County,” Tennessee State Archives; McAlester, A Field Guide, 2013.
106
small industrial shop for boys trade courses, but this room soon became another space for the
Home Economics Department when a new shop was built on campus in the same year. The room
was likely later used for meetings of the campus’ Future Homemakers of America club, the sister
organization of the boys’ New Farmers of Tennessee club.
Ingram Hall included other amenities like shared bathrooms, and likely housed the
campus’s first dining room. Fundraising for the building began during the first 1929-1930
Thanksgiving rally. The building cost between $4,000-$5,600, $2,500 of which was secured via
loan by members of the Board of Trustees from the Whiteville Savings Bank. By 1932, the
Whiteville community had raised an additional $800 in the Thanksgiving rally to pay back to the
loan for the building.
278
The building was demolished sometime in the mid-1940s or early
1950s.
279
In 1995, former Allen-White faculty member Bernice Walker Williams reflected on her
time living in Ingram Hall:
This was my first job right out of college; it was also my first time staying on a
dormitory. The single teachers stayed on the girls’ dormitory with the young ladies and
the married teachers had cottages. I had a roommate who was also a single teacher. We
were both music teachers, so we always had something in common to talk about.
Professor White’s mother was over the dormitory and she took care of the kitchen
facilities and all of the people living on the dormitory came together to eat. The teachers
ate at a special table. These were the single teachers, men and women. The dorm was
fixed up quite sumptuously.
280
278
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 24-25; Robertson, Education, 17, 52-54; Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,”
26, McKinney, “Allen-White School,” 2; White, “Allen-White High School.” The Hardeman County Mirror, May
1930, Hardeman County Training School, 2, University of Tennessee. Digital Collections, Knoxville.
279
Unfortunately, no evidence exists to verify demolition dates for most of the buildings that existed on Allen-
White’s campus. Estimated dates are based on various primary source materials and oral history interviews collected
by photographer and historian Ann Smithwick in: Ann Smithwick, “Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the
Elders,” project materials, 2004-2007.
280
Bernice Walker Williams, interviewed by Jerry Wayne Woods, February 20, 1995, quoted in Woods, “Julius
Rosenwald Fund,” 188.
107
Figure 3.9: Proposed design for Ingram Hall, based on Rosenwald designs for a teacher’s home, Hardeman County
Mirror, 4. Courtesy of the University of Tennessee, Knoxville Digital Collections.
Figure 3.10: “Front and side view, Teacher’s Home [Ingram Hall], Whiteville, TN, Hardeman County,”
photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report, view northeast. Courtesy of
the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942, item #33323.
108
Howse Hall, 1930
During the 1929-1930 school year, parents of the PTA petitioned the Hardeman County
Board of Education to provide funding for a new academic building to support the overcrowded
Dorris Hall as AW’s enrollment quickly increased. Led by President of the PTA James R. Neely,
their efforts proved successful when the Board offered to provide building materials for
construction of the new facility. The building was completed by trade student in the summer of
1930 and was located about one hundred yards northeast of Dorris Hall. It was named Howse
Hall after C. Rosamond Howse, the District Commissioner of Education in Hardeman County.
The new building was a three-room vocational building with brick cladding modeled on a
Rosenwald Fund 2-room shop design published in a 1920s revision of the Community School
Plans pamphlet. (Figure 3.11)
Figure 3.11: Proposed design for Howse Hall, based on Rosenwald designs for a two-room shop, Hardeman County
Mirror, 4. Courtesy of the University of Tennessee, Knoxville Digital Collections.
It was a one-story, wood frame structure on a brick foundation with white clapboard
siding. The central entrance consisted of two nearly symmetrical wings, with one six-light door
to access each wing on a single brick foundation accessed by three steps with a box gabled
109
roofline that was supported by wood brackets. The west wing of the building consisted of three
grouped nine-over-nine light double hung sashed widows on the building’s front façade. To the
west of the window grouping was a set of double doors that opened to the shop, each with three
vertical panels and six window lights. Above the shop doors was a slight shed roofline. On
Howse Hall’s eastern wing there was a grouping of five nine-over-nine light double hung sashed
widows. The building’s secondary facades consisted of additional fixed and double hung wood
sashed windows.
281
(Figure 3.12)
Figure 3.12: “Vocational Building [Howse Hall], Hardeman Co. Training,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes
Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report, October 1930, view northwest. Courtesy of the Tennessee State
Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942, item #584.
Howse Hall housed the agricultural department in one room, the science department in
another, and a new shop in the third room to replace the one in Ingram Hall for trade classes and
equipment storage. The boys in the trade department, sometimes referred to as the manual
training department, learned practical trades that aided their construction projects on campus
under the direction of teachers William Woods, Bill Parham, and Dan Green. Students in this
department also assisted Whiteville residents with pro bono construction work to support the
281
Schoolhouse photos, 1938-1942,” RG91, “vocational building,” Tennessee State Archives; McAlester, A Field
Guide, 2013.
110
industrial curriculum, as long as the owner agreed to furnish the construction materials. In later
years, Howse Hall also housed the history department as well.
282
According to the May 1930
issue of the School’s Hardeman County Mirror publication, the building cost a total of $3,000
and included a “special room” in the shop “for the location of a forge where broken parts of farm
tools may be repaired.”
283
It is likely that the $500 construction loan for an industrial shop
granted by the Rosenwald Fund one year prior contributed to the construction of Howse Hall. By
1933, Dorris Hall, Ingram Hall, and Howse Hall were all “joined by concert walks” on campus.
Howse Hall was demolished sometime during the 1960s.
284
Principal’s Home, 1932
During their first few years in Whiteville, Principal White, his wife Augusta, and their
children lived in a boarding house that was run by Whiteville resident Maggie Neely. The
boarding house was situated only a few yards southeast of the School’s campus, across the street
from the neighboring Elcanaan Baptist Church. With additional money from the construction
budget in 1932, students of the trade department built Principal White and his family a one-story,
five-room white frame bungalow in the modern Craftsman style. The residential building was
located just northeast of the schools campus near AW’s agriculture fields. It had a cross gable-
and-hipped roof and was clad in white clapboard and shingle siding. The front protruding bay
consisted of a grouping of three twelve-over-twelve double hung sashed windows. The central
entrance on the front façade was accessed by three stairs, above which existed a brick pier and a
supporting white rectangular column. The roofline over the central entrance was a flat and
projecting with exposed rafter tails, supported by exposed brackets. The Principal’s home was
likely demolished sometime in the 1950s-1960s.
285
(Figure 3.13)
282
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 24; “Story of the Allen-White School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives; Robertson,
Education, 17; Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 26.
283
The Hardeman County Mirror, May 1930, Hardeman County Training School, 4-5.
284
White, “Allen-White High School,” Author, student interviews, 2022
285
Robertson, Education, 22, 30. Author, student interviews, 2022; McAlester, A Field Guide, 2013.
111
Figure 3.13: Principal’s Home, “History of Allen White High School,” 11, view unknown. Courtesy of the
University of Tennessee, Knoxville Digital Collections.
Clift Recreational Hall, 1934
In 1934, the PTA took total financial responsibility and paid for the erection of Clift
Recreational Hall. The building was a one-story, wood-frame building with white clapboard
siding on a concrete slab foundation. It was located in the northeast section of campus, north of
Howse Hall and south of the agriculture and recreation fields. Its front façade consisted of three
bays: one central bay flanked by two symmetrical wings on each of its east and west side. The
central bay had three equally spaced six-over-six double hung sash windows and metal hip-and-
gabled roof with exposed wood rafter tails. The two flanking bays mirrored one another, with a
half-glass door with three panels and a metal shed portico supported by wood brackets that was
accessible by concrete stairs. The flanking bays each had an additional six-over-six double hung
sash window as well.
286
(Figure 3.14)
286
“Schoolhouse photos, 1938-1942,” record RG273,” Allen-White School, 1939,” Tennessee State Archives;
McAlester, A Field Guide, 2013.
112
Figure 3.14: “Clift Recreational Hall,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor, 1941, view unknown.
Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
The building was named after Mr. W.W. Clift, then-superintendent of Hardeman County
Schools, however it is assumed the Recreational Hall consisted of meeting rooms to support
local events consistent with the Rosenwald Fund’s ambition to create functioning community
centers on county training school campuses in the South. Clift Recreational Hall probably hosted
classes for the elective music department and its various co-curriculars, including the choir,
school quartette, and teacher’s trio called “The White Sisters.” The department’s most popular
organization was the minstrel club. It consisted of male and female students of all ages who
participated in a variety show which included singing, acting, dancing, and comedy sketches.
The show was called “The Allen-White Laugh and Minstrel Show,” and it became widely
popular in Tennessee and adjacent states when AW’s students performed the show regionally to
raise money for the School. The minstrel club was sponsored by teachers Augusta White and
Eddye Maye Money during the 1930s and 1940s.
287
It is also likely that Clift Recreation Hall housed the first gymnasium on Allen-White’s
campus beginning in 1934. The School’s athletic department had been growing since the HCTS
287
Robertson, Education, 18, 24-25, 57.
113
years in the 1920s and needed a better equipped space for physical education classes and athletic
co-curriculars than the auditorium in Dorris Hall. The gymnasium was home to the wrestling,
tumbling, and basketball teams, the latter of which quickly became the most popular sport on the
School’s campus. AW’s 1938 men’s basketball team, coached by Principal White, won the
National High School Basketball Tournament for Colored Students held in Tuskegee, Alabama.
In the following years, the 1940 and 1941 girls’ basketball teams won the same tournament for
two consecutive years. The trophies for these wins were placed in the library in Dorris Hall. A
new gymnasium was constructed on campus in the late 1940s that served the high school teams
until AW’s high school closed in 1970. Clift Recreation Hall was demolished sometime in the
late 1940s.
288
Sandwich Shop, 1934
In the same year, male students of the trade department constructed a small sandwich
shop funded by the PTA. According to local historian and former student and principal Evelyn
C. Robertson, the sandwich shop “was a two room eat shop where boys and girls ate lunch and
where patrons visited after school hours for a soda and sandwich.” The small, wood-frame
building resembled a shotgun style house and was situated on a concrete slab foundation. It was
white with clapboard siding and a metal gabled roof. It’s front façade consisted of a four-glass
wood door with a metal shed portico supported by wood brackets that was accessed by two
concrete stairs. Two four-over-four double-hung sash windows flanked either side of the door.
The sandwich shop was likely demolished in the early 1940s after the NYA program ended on
campus.
289
(Figure 3.15)
288
Robertson, Education, 25-27; West, “Allen-White School,” section 8, page 5; Author, student interviews, 2022.
289
Robertson, Education, 22, 80; Author, student interviews, 2022.; McAlester, A Field Guide, 2013.
114
Figure 3.15: Photos of campus buildings including Clift Recreational Hall, the Sandwich Shop, and the new Allen-
White Bus, “History of Allen White High School,” 14. Courtesy of the University of Tennessee, Knoxville Digital
Collections.
W.Y. Allen Hall, 1934
The PTA assumed financial responsibility for one more building in 1934: W.Y. Allen
Hall, a dormitory building to house twenty-five “young men.” There exists no photographic or
written evidence to describe W.Y Allen Hall, but it was likely named after a relative of the
School’s founder, Jesse C. Allen, and comprised of wood-frame and clapboard siding indicative
of the Rosenwald rural school building designs at the time. It is unclear where the building was
sited on campus or when it was razed.
290
NYA Dormitory, 1936
With funding from the National Youth Administration, students of the trade department
built yet another dormitory in 1936. While Ingram Hall and W.Y. Allen Hall primarily housed
students hailing from other parts of Hardeman County, the new dorm became home to students
290
The Hardeman County Mirror, May 1930, Hardeman County Training School, 2; Robertson, Education, 58;
Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 184.
115
of the NYA program as well as gifted athletes and music students who came to Whiteville from
other parts of Tennessee and neighboring states to attend Allen-White on a work-aid basis. Many
of the students stayed in the new dorm during the school week and returned home on the
weekends. According to a mental map drawn by former student Fredell Harris ’66, whose older
relatives attended AW during this time, the NYA dorm may have been located in the northeast
section of campus parallel to what is now Simmons Street, near the Principal’s home. It is
unclear when the building was demolished, but it was probably removed in the 1940s after the
NYA program on campus ended.
291
The First Cheek Hall, 1940
By the mid-1930s, plans for another academic building to support the expanding high
school curriculum were underway. The proposed new building would house the growing home
economics and trade departments, with the hope of becoming “the most complete training unit
for Domestic Services in the South.” The facility would hold indoor agriculture and health
classes as well. Besides classrooms, other spaces in the vocational building would include an
auditorium, a laundry, a basement, a heating plant, and a clinic for students to obtain primary
care and dental treatment.
292
Efforts to raise the capital to build the new vocational facility began
in 1937. By this point, Principal White had made a name for himself and the Allen-White School
throughout the region, and his success in Whiteville attracted ongoing philanthropic backing
from various benefactors who supported the cause for Black industrial education in the state.
Among them was wealthy Nashville businessman John H. Cheek, a personal contact of Principal
White who had become a friend of the School. In the first months of 1938, Mr. Cheek donated
$3,000 for the community to purchase construction materials for the new building, to be called
Cheek Hall. By the Thanksgiving rally that year, the Black community of Whiteville and
surrounding areas had raised $2,500 to partially match Mr. Cheek’s gift.
293
On March 10, 1938,
the PTA purchased two acres of adjoining land north of AW’s campus from Principal White to
serve as the location for the new building. The deed read as follows:
291
West, “Allen-White School,” section 8, page 5; Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 38-39. Fredell Harris,
mental map exercise, October 14, 2022, Whiteville, Tennessee.
292
“Story of the Allen-White School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives; “Cheek Hall News,” The Allen-White Voice,
March 29, 1939, box 106, folder 4, microfilm, Record Group 273, Tennessee Department of Education Records
1874-1987, Tennessee State Archives, Nashville.
293
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 26-27.
116
Know by all men present that for an in consideration of four hundred dollars cash in hand
paid, the receipt is hereby acknowledged, J.H. White and wife Augusta White, parties of
the first part do sell and convey the parcel of land bordered on the south by a plot owned
by the Hardeman County Board of Education…Containing two acres more or less to
Johnnie Norment, V.L. Robertson, Hulis Shaw, J.H. White, Ben Murphy, Hayes
Reynolds, Bessie Walkton, Robert Motley, Johnny Robertson, Charlie Lewis, Ten
Crowder, James R. Neely, Eddie Crisp, and Zebedee Cross as trustees of Cheek Hall
Vocational Building, and not as individuals, and to their successors in trust.
294
W.B. Chase, a “lumberman of Detroit,” donated the doors and windows for the new vocational
building, and by the spring of 1938, construction on Cheek Hall was underway with labor
provided by the boys’ trade department and NYA students.
295
Little photographic evidence exists of the 1940 Cheek Hall building, and it is unclear
where exactly the building was situated on the northernmost part of AW’s campus. However, a
few construction photos shed light on the building’s design. (Figure 3.16, Figure 3.17) Cheek
Hall’s overall form and massing was not indicative of any one specific Rosenwald school plan,
but rather reflected the general Rosenwald style adapted to suit the Whiteville community’s
needs. Like others on campus, it was a two-story Colonial wood-frame building with white
clapboard siding on a concrete slab foundation. It consisted of three bays on its front façade with
a central entrance flanked by two symmetrical wings on either side. The central entrance
consisted of one arched entry on the first floor, likely to accommodate double doors, with a box
gabled portico supported by square columns and am open gabled roof. The central entrance was
accessible by stairs flanked by brick walls. There were two openings for double hung sash
window on other side of the central entrance. The second story of the central bay was a
continuous dormer consisting of six window openings with a shed roofline. Each of Cheek Hall’s
east and west bays on the front façade consisted of one small window opening closest to the
central bay, with four equally spaced window openings on its outside and an open gabled roof.
296
294
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 28.
295
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 26.
296
“Schoolhouse photos, 1938-1942,” record RG273, “Cheek Hall, April 30, 1939,” Tennessee State Archives;
McAlester, A Field Guide, 2013.
117
Figure 3.16: “Cheek Hall” under construction, photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes
Monthly Report, April 30, 1939, view likely north. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A,
Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
Figure 3.17: “Cheek Hall” under construction, photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes
Monthly Report, April 30, 1939, view likely northwest. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group
273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
118
Principal White spent the next two years tirelessly searching for additional donations to
equip the building with the needed faculty, industrial machinery, furnishings, and school
supplies. Various correspondences between White and Tennessee Director of Negro Education
W.E. Turner from 1935-1940 illustrate the exhaustive lengths to which Principal White
dedicated himself to the School’s progress. In them, Principal White outlines his ongoing
struggles with White community leaders and state agents in Hardeman County, and his inability
to staff teachers and raise enough funds to complete Cheek Hall and other projects planned on
campus. Seeking both emotional and tangible support from Turner, Principal White gave Turner
his notice of resignation as the County’s Jeanes Fund Supervisor on December 12, 1939,
indicating in the same letter his wishes to resign at Allen-White “at whatever time you deem
necessary in order that the officials may have time to secure my successor.” Despite the mental
toll of his leadership position, Principal White managed to secure the funding needed to outfit
Cheek Hall in the closing months of 1939. It was his intention to leave the school at the
conclusion of the spring 1940 term after having succeeded in growing AW’s physical campus
plant to accommodate a high school curriculum during his ten-year tenure.
297
On Monday, February 19, 1940, Cheek Hall burned down just one week before its
scheduled dedication ceremony. Inside were the building’s remaining construction materials,
including some windows and doors that still needed to be installed. The high school vocational
building had not yet been insured but was valued between $25,000-$40,000. There was no
formal investigation into the case by the Whiteville Police Department or Hardeman County
Sheriff’s Office, although many residents of the Whiteville community believe the fire was
caused by a racially motivated arson attack on the Allen-White School. The next evening, PTA
President William Harris called an emergency meeting and plans to embark on a new
construction project to replace the burned building immediately began. At the meeting, parents
contributed $500 for the erection of a new building. The next day, Principal White placed a
cement order with the money, and the trade department students began creating concrete blocks
297
“J.H. White to W.E. Turner, December 12, 1939” box 295, folder 13, microfilm, Record Group 92, Tennessee
Department of Education Commissioner’s Records 1913-1970, Tennessee State Archives, Nashville. Various
correspondences between J.H. White and W.E. Turner dated between September 26, 1935 and April 17, 1940
indicate White’s exhaustion and mental instability that resulted from his ongoing efforts to acquire funding for
multiple aspects of Allen-White’s operations, including staffing, curriculum materials, transportation, and
construction. See: Box 295, folder 12 titled “J.H. White” and folder 13 titled “Allen-White High School,” microfilm,
Tennessee Department of Education Commissioner’s Records 1913-1970, Record Group 92, Tennessee State
Archives, Nashville.
119
for a new Cheek Hall the following week. The devastating setback did not deter the Allen-White
community, but instead renewed their efforts and the dedication of Principal White, who vowed
to put his resignation on hold until a new Cheek Hall building was constructed. He immediately
began drafting letters to wealthy individuals, community organizations, and philanthropic funds
as early as February 29, 1940, on letterhead paper titled “Cheek Hall Reconstruction Drive.”
298
Agnes Tierney Hall, Gilbert Hall, and the New Cheek Hall, 1947-1948
After Cheek Hall burned in February, Principal White informed Mr. Cheek of the fire,
and “out of the heartbreak and tragedy, due to renewed effort and sacrifice, an additional gift
from Mr. Cheek was given in the amount of $7,500.”
299
But the community still needed to raise
at least $25,000 to replace the vocational building, which became increasingly urgent as AW’s
enrollment continued to grow. Consequently, White was granted a month’s leave from his duties
as Principal by the Hardeman County Board of Education to travel and continue contacting
individuals and foundations that had previously shown interest in the School. According to
historian Ernest Rivers, “he carried pictures of the boys and girls at work in the school,” as well
as “letters of recommendation and brochures” about AW on his travels throughout Tennessee
and neighboring states. “With his ability to sell the program of the school to the public,” writes
Rivers, “many visitors came to see the progress of the school in operation.”
300
During this time, Principal White sent many more letters to W.E. Turner describing the needs
of the School and his ongoing struggle to obtain enough funding to rebuild Cheek Hall. White’s
spirits were soon renewed in April 1940, when Turner coordinated a visit to Allen-White for the
General Education Board’s (GEB) Dr. Fred McCuiston, who surveyed the campus as part of a
study he was conducting on southern county training schools for the Education Policy
Commission. With the help of Robert E. Clay, whose role as Tennessee’s Rosenwald Agent was
to “politicize and organize local community enthusiasm” and to invoke “community pride” in the
rural school building effort, Turner had provided Principal White with an opportunity to secure
298
“Story of the Allen-White School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives; Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 29-30;
Various letters from J.H. White to benefactors located in box 295, folder 12 titled “J.H. White” and folder 13 titled
“Allen-White High School,” microfilm, Record Group 92, Tennessee Department of Education Commissioner’s
Records 1913-1970, Tennessee State Archives, Nashville.
299
“Story of the Allen-White School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives.
300
Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 30.
120
more funding from the GEB for Cheek Hall and to motivate the community once again to donate
for the cause of school construction.
301
On February 19, 1941—one year from the day Cheek Hall burned—Allen-White was visited
by wealthy philanthropists of the GEB, including John D. Rockefeller III, Winthrop Aldrich,
Jackson Davis, and William I. Meyers of Cornell University. The men had likely heard about the
burgeoning campus from Dr. McCuiston’s survey report, which ranked AW as one of the four
leading Black schools in the United States at the time. In 1995, former student Myrtle Robertson
described her feelings of meeting John D. Rockefeller III:
Believe it or not, one of the Rockefellers, John D. [III], visited Allen-White School. He came
here and people didn’t want to believe it. Yes, he came to our school because I spoke to him.
It was a special occasion and we had dinner all of that. Just to look at him was something for
us, just to see him. He didn’t stay very long but he came.
The civic leaders were impressed with what they saw at Allen-White and warranted it worthy of
financial support. On the recommendation of Rockefeller and his colleagues, the GEB donated
$7,500 to the Hardeman County Board of Education to purchase materials for further
construction of the new Cheek Hall in 1942. With enough funds to obtain the necessary
materials, the reconstruction project took off. Around the same time, the “Whiteville Rural
Community Center, Inc.” was established to handle all future private contributions to the Allen-
White School, and the PTA continued to raise funds at the annual Thanksgiving rally and other
fundraising events held throughout the year.
As construction progressed in the first few years of the 1940s, the design scope of the
Cheek Hall project changed significantly. An architect was hired, likely with assistance from the
Rosenwald Fund, to draw plans for an expanded school building. (Figure 3.18) What was once a
single, Colonial style building with multiple classrooms soon grew into a proposed project
consisting of three separate yet adjoining institutional brick buildings for the high school: Agnes
L. Tierney Hall, Gilbert Hall, and Cheek Hall, collectively referred to as “Cheek Hall” by the
AW community.
302
The choice to expand beyond the original Cheek Hall design paralleled that
of other county training schools in the South, many of which were adopting modern design
301
Stitely, “Bridging the Gap,” 29, 31; “W.E. Turner to J.H. White, March 22, 1940,” “J.H. White to W.E. Turner,
April 15 and April 17, 1940,” box 295, folder 13, microfilm, Record Group 92, Tennessee Department of Education
Commissioner’s Records 1913-1970, Tennessee State Archives, Nashville.
302
Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 176-177; White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 25-26; “Story of the Allen-White
School,” Rosenwald Fund Archives; Robertson, Education, 56.
121
standards that reflected the style of urban industrial high schools paid for by the Rosenwald Fund
in the late 1920s and 1930s.
303
Figure 3.18: Photo of Cheek Hall under construction (above) and an architectural perspective drawing of the
proposed building design (below), “Allen-White High School fundraising letter,” 3, 1942. Courtesy of the
University of Tennessee, Knoxville Digital Collections.
303
Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools,131-142.
122
Agnes L. Tierney Hall was planned to house the laundry, heating plant, a cafeteria, a
practice kitchen for the home economics students, and a guest dining hall. Gilbert Hall, possibly
named after founding trustee Dr. Gilbert Shelton, would become the new home for all other
industrial training classes for the home economics department, as well as a health center, and a
“practice school for good housekeeping.” Cheek Hall would be the new home for a recreation
center and gymnasium, and a new “community meeting house.” The adjoining buildings were
also said to be home to a baby clinic used to train female students in nursery practices and
provide childcare for local women, and a new vocational library, although it is not clear exactly
where these new facilities were located. It is assumed that the new buildings would also house
the trade and agriculture departments for high school boys in addition to classes that would
continue operating out of Howse Hall and the existing outdoor spaces on campus.
304
In February
1943, AW’s Board of Trustees purchased additional land from Principal J.H. White ownership at
the School’s north to accommodate the size of the new Cheek Hall project.
305
Accomplishing the monolithic three-building construction project quickly proved to be a
difficult undertaking. Principal White’s ability to secure financing for the project was
inconsistent, and construction frequently lapsed due to a labor shortage caused by the end of the
NYA program on the School’s campus in 1941 when the United States shifted federal funding
priorities away from New Deal programs and toward home front defense. Many young men went
overseas to fight in the Second World War, including those in Whiteville, leaving rural school
construction projects across the South short staffed and incomplete. Refusing to accept defeat,
Principal White wrote letters to major political benefactors, including Eleanor Roosevelt, to
whom he wrote on July 23, 1942 explaining the situation at AW. In his correspondence, White
pleas for assistance from the First Lady, claiming that $11,000 worth of construction has already
been paid for and materialized, including “all of our window frames, 59,000 concrete blocks, our
saw mill cut the trees and sawed all the rough labor, one friend gave us our glass for the
windows, we have all our electrical materials, all the plumbing materials, hard wood flowing and
other building materials for the work.” But according to White, the unfinished project remains
open to the weather and the morale was low. He asked the First Lady to help guide him in
304
“Our Present Needs,” The Allen-White Voice, November 12, 1946, 3, James H. White Collection.
305
Hardeman County Record of Deeds, Register Book 23-R, Page 504-505, Hardeman County Office of the
Register, Bolivar, Tennessee, May 10, 1944, accessed October 11, 2022.
123
securing $20,000 to complete the project, writing that White residents in Hardeman County are
generally supportive and “help as individuals all they can possibly do and at the same time carry
on the work of their schools.”
Mrs. Roosevelt did not respond directly to Principal White, but rather forwarded his
request to the office of Edwin R. Embree, then President of the Rosenwald Fund, asking if the
philanthropy could provide the needed assistance to the Allen-White School. A letter to the
White House from Embree’s secretary Dorothy A. Elvidge dated August 24, 1942 explained that
the Fund was no longer able to help assist rural schools with construction grants after having
phased out the rural school building program in 1932. The denial to provide grant assistance to
AW was indicative of the Rosenwald Fund’s shifting objective under Embree to focus on social
programs rather than school building construction moving forward. It would be entirely up to the
Hardeman County community and their ability to solicit private donors and public funding to
complete the project.
306
Simultaneously, Principal White appealed to Dr. Fred McCuiston, who visited the
campus again with W.E. Turner to make a survey of AW’s needs later that year. With
McCuiston’s endorsement, the GEB gave the Hardeman County Board of Education $13,500 in
1944 and followed with another gift of $17,500 in 1947 “for the completion and equipping of the
vocational building.”
307
In 1946, Allen-White was chosen to participate Fisk University’s
Southern Rural Life Program under sociology professor Charles S. Johnson. As part of a work-
study program, Fisk students lived and worked at Allen-White and taught classes to count toward
their teacher training experience in industrial training and liberal arts. During their stay, the
college students resided in cottages near the School’s campus and assisted with various clubs and
organizations. The partnership between the schools undoubtedly led to increased publicity in
Nashville on behalf of Allen-White’s mission, which probably brought even more donations into
the School.
308
306
“J.H. White to Eleanor Roosevelt, July 23, 1942;” “Eleanor Roosevelt to Edwin R. Embree, August 18, 1942;”
“Dorothy A. Elvidge to Eleanor Roosevelt, August 24, 1942,” box 369, folder 12, Projects/Persons Requesting Aid
J.H. White), Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives, 1917-1948, John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library, Fisk
University, Nashville.
307
“Appropriation Report of County Board of Education,” July 3, 1943, Office of the County Superintendent,
Bolivar, Tennessee, quoted in Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 31-32.
308
West, “Allen-White School,” section 8, page 2; “The College Internship Plan,” The Allen-White Voice,
November 12, 1946, 4, James H. White Collection, Mississippi Valley State University, Itta Bena, Mississippi.
124
By the end of the decade, the steadfast Principal had obtained donations from several
notable philanthropic organizations nationwide, including $2,500 from the Erwin Freund
Foundation of Chicago in 1945, $7,500 from the Marshall Field Foundation in the same year,
$5,000 from the Phelps-Stokes Foundation, and $7,500 from the Kellogg Foundation in 1946. By
1948, ten years after the initial Cheek Hall project, Allen-White had raised a total of $60,000
from community fundraising campaigns and private philanthropic organizations to complete the
reconstruction and expansion of the high school vocational building. The residents of Hardeman
County had once again demonstrated their dedication to the cause for Black education in
Whiteville via grassroots community fundraising tactics and tenacious outreach to Progressive
supporters of the self-determination ethos that dominated the philanthropic landscape during the
Jim Crow Era.
309
The three brick buildings were finally completed in the 1947-1948 school year. The
community’s choice to incorporate brick and concrete into the design this time, instead of wood
siding, may have been a conscious choice to utilize more fire resistant—and expensive—
materials to reduce potential fire risks caused by arson and to actively push back against those
who opposed the School’s expansion. (Figure 3.19) Gilbert Hall and Agnes L Tierney Hall were
dedicated in a weekend-long ceremony November 12-14, 1947. Despite having not contributed
financially to the project, representatives of the Rosenwald Fund in Nashville were invited by
Principal White to attend the dedication, to which secretary Dorothy Elvidge politely declined.
310
The Cheek Hall building was later dedicated on April 22, 1948, and deeded to the Hardeman
County Board of Education in the following years. After his decade-long effort to complete the
new school facilities, Principal White reflected on the community’s success, writing:
A true story now comes to an end—this dream has come true. The buildings have been
completed and dedicated, modern equipment to serve the boys and girls who come to the
[School] for guidance. Gilbert Hall, Agnes [L.] Tierney Hall, and Cheek Hall now stand as a
great community accomplishment. As the community goes forward, Mr. W.E. Turner, State
Agent of Negro Schools and Coordinator of Higher Education, whose untiring efforts in the
cause, will continue to win more and more the admiration and praise of these people who so
deeply appreciate his interest in the youth of the community.
311
309
White, Up from a Cotton Patch, 27; Rivers, “The History of Allen-White,” 31-32; J.H. White, “Through the
Darkest Period,” 1948, James H. White Collection, Mississippi Valley State University, Itta Bena, Mississippi.
310
“J.H. White to the Rosenwald Fund, October 1947;” “Dorothy A. Elvidge to J.H. White, October 27, 1947;” box
157, folder 9, Projects/Persons Requesting Aid (Allen White High, Whiteville, TN), Julius Rosenwald Fund
Archives, 1917-1948, John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library, Fisk University, Nashville.
311
J.H. White, “Through the Darkest Period,” 1948; McKinney, “Allen-White School,” 6.
125
Figure 3.19: Photograph of the completed Cheek Hall reconstructed design. Agnes L. Tierney Hall (left), Gilbert
Hall (middle), Cheek Hall, (right), photographer unknown, view northwest. Allen-White High School yearbook, The
Mirror, 1964. Courtesy of Evelyn C. Robertson Personal Collection.
New Leadership and a Modern Curriculum in the Civil Rights Era, 1948-1969
After serving twenty years in Whiteville, J.H. White resigned from his position as
Principal at the end of the 1947-1948 school year. The educator had been determined to see
through the Cheek Hall reconstruction project, which delayed his departure ten years past his
initial notice to Turner. During his tenure, Principal White indeed accomplished what the
founder Jesse C. Allen and the Board of Trustees intended. In two decades, the School had
grown from a single Rosenwald six-classroom building to include almost a dozen buildings on
campus that served students from pre-school through twelfth grade. J.H. White left Allen-White
a fully operational school plant owed the same amount of respect and prestige as any comparable
White school at the time. He went on to work in higher education, assuming the Presidency of
Lane College in Jackson, Tennessee the following year at age 41, just one year past his original
goal as a young boy. White later founded his own HBCU campus, Mississippi Valley State
College in Itta Bena, Mississippi which still exists today (now called Mississippi Valley State
University).
312
Over the course of the next twenty years, the mission at Allen-White and other county
training schools shifted away from school building construction campaigns financed by
philanthropic foundations and toward modernizing school curriculum with publicly funded tax
312
White, Up from a Cotton Patch; Robertson, Education, 39. For more information about the life’s work of James
H. White, an excellent archive of his personal materials is housed in the Mississippi Valley State University Special
Collections Library.
126
revenue. In fact, several of the buildings on campus were demolished over the next decades,
signaling a consolidation of school departments. During this time, the Jim Crow Era transitioned
into the Civil Rights Era, and the push for equal rights in all aspects of Black citizenry
intensified. In the field of education, “incremental steps toward equity were no longer sufficient,”
as historian Mary Hoffschwelle writes, and during the next two decades, Black Americans
“would wage multiple campaigns for equality and inclusion and challenge all Tennesseans to
recognize each child’s right to a public education.”
313
But even with statewide pressure to
equalize and integrate schools, Allen-White remained the only Black high school in Hardeman
County in 1959 when Bolivar Industrial Jr. High School finally became a four-year institution.
After Principal White’s departure, he was succeeded by Carl L. Seets, a former member
of AW’s Board of Trustees and PTA. During his principalship, Seets modified the interior of the
new Cheek Hall complex to house classes in typewriting and shorthand to prepare female
students for careers in the modern workplace. This was the first step in the School’s curriculum
expansion, and girls were now able to obtain training in skills beyond the domestic arts. In 1949,
Allen-White received accreditation for two more years, thus becoming an optional six-year
training school for Black students. Principal Seets was also responsible for establishing a general
business department for students, and he made significant improvements to the quality of
education and equipment in the science department.
Seets left his position in 1952 and was replaced by Major A. Jarrett, a former student of
the Allen-White School. Under Jarrett’s administration, AW continued to modernize, with
general business classes, cosmetology classes, and driver’s education added for both male and
female students, making Allen-White the only high school in Hardeman County—White or
Black—to offer them. Jarrett remained principal of Allen-White for the next eighteen years, until
1970. The curriculum advancements made under Principals Seets and Jarrett represented a
greater pattern of modernization for southern Black schools during the Civil Rights Era. Students
at Allen-White now had more access to liberal arts training to prepare them for higher education
and a diverse array of careers beyond agricultural and trade work.
314
313
Hoffschwelle, “Public Education in Tennessee,” 2014.
314
McKinney, “Allen-White School,” 6-7; Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 179-180. Robertson, Education, 41-
45.
127
During the 1960s, efforts were made to separate the still-expanding elementary school
from the high school facilities at AW. In 1964, a new elementary school building was erected on
campus, and in the 1966-1967 school year, a separate administration was formed for the
management and supervision of the lower school grades K-6. C. Elma Motley, a teacher at Union
Springs Elementary School, was appointed Principal of AW’s new elementary division. She was
succeeded by former student Evelyn C. Robertson Jr. after retiring in 1969. According to a 1967
study by graduate student Nannie S.J. Pratt, Allen-White had on staff eleven elementary school
teachers, four middle school teachers, eleven high school teachers, and two counselors between
the years 1963-1966. At the time, the school enrolled eight hundred total students in first grade
through twelfth grade. By the middle of the decade, AW was well equipped with modern school
equipment, including movie projectors, tape recorders, televisions, record players, and library
books for all grade levels. By the end of the decade, the school rivaled that of other White high
schools in Hardeman County in terms of its modern curriculum and amenities.
315
Elementary School, 1964
In 1964, a ten-classroom elementary school building was erected immediately north of
Dorris Hall to accommodate student enrollment, and is still extant today. (Figure 3.20) The two
buildings were once connected by a concrete sidewalk that is no longer extant. The 1964
elementary school building is constructed of brick and concrete cinderblock masonry with
vertical wood siding on its western façade where the front entrance is located. The elementary
school has a flat asphalt and metal roof indicative of its modernist time period. The central
entrance has a double-door entrance flanked by horizontal four-light windows with aluminum
framing on either side. Above the door is a three panel transom window with aluminum framing
as well. On the western facade of the building are equally spaced single-hung glass windows
with aluminum casing that have been boarded. On the eastern façade, there are five bays of
grouped windows that have been boarded as well. The building consists of ten roughly equal
sized classrooms on either side of a central hallway. The building has additional amenities
including offices and restrooms located at the center of the building near its entry lobby. When
315
Nannie S.J. Pratt, “To Study the Characteristics and Possible Causes of the High Rate of Dropouts in the Tenth,
Eleventh, and Twelfth Grades Students at Allen White High School, Whiteville, Tennessee, 1963-1966 Inclusive,”
(Master’s thesis, Tennessee A&I State University, 1967).
128
the building became the new home for the elementary department in 1964, Dorris Hall became a
space used primarily for storage and additional classrooms or offices when needed. The
elementary building has suffered significant damage since falling completely out of use in the
1980s. Many of the original windows and doors have been removed or damaged.
316
Figure 3.20: Photograph of the new elementary school building, unknown photographer, view northeast. Allen-
White High School yearbook, The Mirror, 1964. Courtesy of Evelyn C. Robertson Personal Collection.
Integration, Arson, and the End of Allen-White, 1970-1974
The Civil Rights Era brought forth legislation that fundamentally altered the course of
Black education in the United States. In the 1954 Brown vs. Board of Education Supreme Court
case, the Court decision ruled that U.S. state laws regarding segregation were unconstitutional.
Their decision marked the end of a legally separated dual-public school system for Black and
White students in the American South. The 1964 Civil Rights Act, which outlawed
discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin further cemented the
illegality of the Jim Crow segregation laws. Unfortunately, these laws did not have much of an
immediate impact on school segregation in Tennessee, or throughout the southern region writ
large, especially in rural areas that were staunchly segregated. Some Tennessee counties began
taking steps to integrate their school systems in the late 1950s, however the majority of counties
withheld from the new policy until pressured by the federal government in the 1960s.
Hardeman County was one of the last Tennessee counties to integrate after receiving
pushback from both Black and White residents. Consistent with the general West Tennessee
316
Photos by the author, 2022. West, “Allen-White School,” section 7, pages 1-2; Robertson interview, 2022;
McAlester, A Field Guide, 2013.
129
region, many rural White residents were staunchly against an integrated school system resulting
from their own supremacist ideologies. Black residents, however, were understandably reluctant
to integrate in part because of the substantial and meaningful advancements to Black education
made by local community members at Allen-White and other Black public schools in the
County. Many Black residents believed that if schools integrated, the sense of community pride
that enriched Rosenwald campuses would be lost, and Black students would be treated as second
class citizens at formerly White schools. They also knew that if schools integrated in the area,
preference would be given to White school campuses and teachers, and Black schools like Allen-
White and Bolivar Industrial would lose everything their communities had worked so hard to
attain over the last half-century. But despite the efforts to postpone integration, Hardeman
County finally adopted the policy in 1969, and thus ensured the “demise” of Black schools in the
County. AW closed its doors to Cheek Hall and the high school department in the following
year, and the 1970 class marked the last graduating class of Allen-White High School.
Just one year after AW’s high school closed, the Whiteville community suffered yet another
devastating fire. When the high school closed in 1970, the Hardeman County Board of
Education—who by that point owned all of the buildings on campus—salvaged and sold the
remaining construction materials and architectural elements of Cheek Hall, including its
windows and doors, to a local White business owner named Shaw Pinner for a new building he
was constructing in Whiteville. Before the materials could be moved, the three-building Cheek
Hall complex was destroyed by an arson fire on Monday, February 8, 1971, almost thirty-one
years after the original Cheek Hall structure burned, also likely by arson. The 1964 elementary
building was set on fire the following evening of Tuesday, February 9, but the neighboring
Bolivar Fire Department was able to stop the fire before it caused significant damage to the
building. The Hardeman County Sheriff Department launched an investigation and ruled the case
an arson, because both fires were “started under the floor of the building and paper was used to
set the blaze.” The investigation was soon dropped, and the perpetrator or perpetrators were
never found.
317
317
John Barnes, “Causes Sought in School Fires,” February 24, 1971, The Commercial Appeal, Jackson, Tennessee,
accessed October 10, 2022 from the Faye Davidson Collection in the local history room at the Bolivar-Hardeman
County Library.
130
After the arson attack, the 1964 AW elementary school building continued to operate as
Whiteville Northside Elementary School for about four more years. During this time, a
replacement school building was under construction nearby to consolidate students with the
formerly all-White Whiteville Elementary School. After the elementary school students moved
to the new integrated building around 1974, the Allen-White campus was officially closed.
318
The dorms, Principal’s home, and other ancillary academic buildings had been demolished
between 1940-1960 when bus transportation to AW became more accessible and dorms were no
longer needed, and the School’s academic departments consolidated within the new elementary
building and the Cheek Hall high school complex before it burned. Of the eleven total buildings
completed on campus during Allen-White’s history—which existed at various times—only two
remained when the School closed in 1974: The first building constructed, the original
Rosenwald-funded Dorris Hall, and the last building constructed, the 1964 elementary school
building.
Although the Rosenwald Fund’s emphasis on constructing county training schools was
successful throughout the entire region, the Allen-White School grew to become an exemplary
model for the Fund’s ambitions. It became a fully operational institution of K-12 public
education that offered Black students diverse courses in both liberal arts and industrial training
that paralleled—and often even surpassed—the quality of White education in the area over the
course of its campus development. The story of AW involved many significant figures in
educational theory, but nonetheless has largely disappeared from the vernacular landscape. The
following chapter outlines potential tools of heritage conservation that may be used to identify
the importance of the site’s story, while also finding a path toward allowing its physical remains
to nurture that story into the future.
318
No other buildings were in use on campus during this time. Woods, “Julius Rosenwald Fund,” 1-2; McKinney,
“Allen-White School,” 6-7; Robertson, Education, 41-45; Smithwick, “Rosenwald Revisited” interviews, 2005-
2006; Author, student interviews, 2022.
131
Figure 3.21: Site plan of the Allen-White School during its heightened construction period, ca. 1930-1950. Designed
by the author using composited 1947 and 1954 base aerial photographs, December 2022.
132
Chapter 4. Saving Allen-White: Exploring Various Avenues of Heritage Conservation
Early Efforts to Conserve the Allen-White Campus
Building Uses after School Closure
When the Allen-White School (AW) campus closed around 1974, only two of the almost
a dozen buildings remained on campus: Dorris Hall and the 1964 elementary school building.
The 1971 arson attack on the second Cheek Hall building was devastating to the School
community, especially those students and faculty members who were part of the Cheek Hall
reconstruction efforts after the first building was destroyed by fire in 1940. But the Hardeman
County School Board, which owned the AW campus by this time, was entirely focused on
peacefully integrating the County’s public school system during the 1970s, and thus made no
effort to conserve the two remining buildings on campus. Concurrently, there was no immediate
effort on behalf of the local Black community to purchase and conserve the campus in the first
few years following AW’s closure. As a result, both Dorris Hall and the elementary school
building were subject to various uses and threatened by demolition in the last decades of the
twentieth century.
In the early 1970s, Dorris Hall—the original Rosenwald brick building—was leased to a
local beauty school for use as cosmetology classroom and lab. Sometime between 1976-1980 the
building was used as a community cannery. In 1982, the land and both extant AW buildings were
purchased from the County School Board by the Whiteville Business Enterprise, LLC (WBE), a
local business organization whose founders consisted of a few Allen-White alumna. Their
intention was to rehabilitate the 1964 elementary school building into a conglomeration of small,
Black-owned businesses. In the 1980s, the WBE operated a grocery store, a laundromat, a bar,
and several other small businesses in the old elementary building. During these years, however,
Dorris Hall fell largely out of use and functioned primarily as a storage facility.
133
Figure 4.1: Site plan of the abandoned Allen-White School campus, ca. 2022. Designed by the author using a
Google Earth aerial image, January 2023.
134
In the early 1990s, the AW campus, which now totaled 7.1 acres and included the two
extant buildings, was purchased from the WBE by the neighboring Elcanaan Baptist Church
(Church), and at that point the 1964 elementary school building also became vacant. (Figure 4.2)
The purchase was spearheaded by former AW principals and Church parishioners Evelyn C.
Robertson Jr. and Major A. Jarrett. Allen-White and Elcanaan shared a symbiotic relationship
over the School’s history, and many local students’ families were also members of the Church.
Throughout the decades, Elcanaan was home to numerous fundraising events for the School,
including social events organized by the PTA and school faculty, the majority of whom were
also members of the Church. Under the leadership of Robertson, Jarrett, and several other AW
alumni who were also members, efforts to conserve the two remaining campus buildings finally
took hold as the twenty-first century approached. The Church membership organized behind the
effort, and plans to first rehabilitate the Dorris Hall building once again took shape. This time,
the aim was to create a mixed-use community cultural center that would offer vocational training
and a museum space to interpret the history of the Allen-White School.
319
319
Information about the community’s conservation efforts written in this chapter are primarily based on oral history
interviews with former Allen-White students, conducted by the author between October 13-14, 2022, in Whiteville,
Tennessee. Subjects include Evelyn C. Robertson, Odell Greene, Charles Johnson, Fredell Harris, Cosette Crawford,
Ocie Holmes, George Dotson, and Johnny Shaw. Additional information was gleaned from the following sources:
Evelyn C. Robertson, email message to author, November 18, 2022; Ann Smithwick, “Rosenwald Revisited:
Wisdom from the Elders,” Oral History and Photography Project, 2005-2006 oral history interviews with Allen-
White students; “Building for the Future: Building on Our Past,” fundraising pamphlet distributed by the Elcanaan
Community Help Organization (ECHO) in 2019, https://www.allenwhitecenter.org/, accessed December 7, 2022.
135
Figure 4.2: The extant 1964 elementary school building, which was used by the Whiteville business enterprise
during the 1980s and currently sits vacant today, view northwest. Photo by the author, October 2022.
Protecting a Community Asset with Grassroots Planning Efforts
Rehabilitation planning and subsequent fundraising efforts by the Elcanaan community
remained slow in the early years of the 2000s, although AW did receive some protection and
exposure with the help of Rosenwald historians in Tennessee at the time. In 2005, Dorris Hall
was surveyed by architectural historian Carroll Van West of the Center for Historic Preservation
(CHP) at Middle Tennessee State University (MTSU) in Murfreesboro. The CHP has played an
instrumental role in documenting Tennessee’s last remaining Rosenwald schools. In 1993,
historians with the CHP organized and funded the first academic conference in the state about
the schools and their legacy. Dr. West was contacted by community leaders in Whiteville who
sought statewide protection for the historic Dorris Hall building.
Following his survey of the Allen-White campus, the building was deemed historically
significant for its association with events in the contexts of “African American Ethnic Heritage,”
“Social History,” and “Education” between the established period of significance ranging from
1918-1955, themes which fall under the National Register of Historic Places (NR) nomination
Criterion A. The NR is the United States’ official list of buildings, structures, objects, sites, and
districts that are considered worthy of conservation because of their significance in aspects of
American history such as architecture, archeology, engineering, and culture. A place’s
136
nomination to the NR in contingent on its ability to meet one of the four established Criterion
that constitute historic significance, per the National Park Service. The four Criterion include:
Criterion A, for the place’s association with historic patterns of events or development, Criterion
B, its association with the life of an important person, Criterion C, its architectural design or
construction value, or Criterion D, its archeological significance in conveying information about
prehistory or history.
320
Because it was found to be historically significant under Criterion A,
AW’s Dorris Hall was listed on the NR, a move which guaranteed additional bureaucratic
protections to ensure the building would remain standing for future use. As a result of the
Whiteville community’s conservation action, Dorris Hall became the first Rosenwald school in
Tennessee to be placed on the State of Tennessee and National Register of Historic Places on
November 9, 2005.
321
AW’s placement on the NR renewed local interest in campus rehabilitation efforts. In
2008, the Elcanaan community created a 501c3 nonprofit organization called the Elcanaan
Community Hope Organization, or ECHO.
322
The purpose of the organization, which still exists
today, was to formalize rehabilitation plans for AW’s campus buildings and to consolidate
fundraising efforts for the future “Allen-White Center for Education and Cultural Advancement,”
which, once constructed, would operate out of both the Dorris Hall and the 1964 elementary
school building. In addition to cultural meeting spaces and an interpretive museum, the
rehabilitated facility would include workforce development programs and facilities to “continue
the educational aspect” associated with the rich history of the School.
323
According to various ECHO members, the proposed rehabilitation project was compliant
with the Secretary of the Interior Standards for Rehabilitation and required minimal changes to
the extant buildings. The concrete foundations of both Dorris Hall and the modern elementary
school were evaluated for structural stability, and the brick cladding of both buildings was still in
320
National Register Bulletin 15: How to Apply the National Register Criteria for Evaluation (Washington, D.C.:
U.S. Department of the Interior, 1990 (rev. 1991, 1995, 1997, 2001, 2002)): 11-25.
321
Carroll Van West, “Allen-White School,” National Register of Historic Places Inventory/Nomination Form,
Tennessee Historical Commission, Nashville, September 26, 2005; Carroll Van West, email message to author,
December 8, 2022; “Herbert K. Harper [Tennessee SHPO] to Reverend Hendree [Elcanaan Baptist Church],
November 28, 2005,” Tennessee Historical Commission, Southern Places Collection, Middle Tennessee State
University Center for Historic Preservation.
322
For the remainder of this chapter, the acronym “ECHO” will be used interchangeably with other terms to
describe the local community, such as “the Whiteville community,” “the Hardeman County Community,” “the
residents of Whiteville,” etc.
323
Evelyn C. Robertson, interviewed by the author, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 13, 2022.
137
good condition in the 2000s. (Figure 4.3) The majority of the project’s rehabilitation work would
involve replacing historic windows and doors that had been vandalized or stolen, removing
graffiti from the interior and exterior walls, and updating the interior of each facility to
accommodate its new uses. At the time, the building retained its architectural integrity as only a
few changes had been made to the 1920 Dorris Hall building since it stopped being used by the
Allen-White School in 1971. These included the installation of a single-wood door around 1982
by the WBE and new metal roofing and vinyl eaves installed around 2002 when the Elcanaan
community took steps to stabilize and protect the campus facilities. By the end of the decade,
Whiteville’s community morale was high, and a grassroots fundraising campaign was underway
to expedite the new campus vision.
324
Figure 4.3: Dorris Hall as it stood ca. 2006 during the rehabilitation efforts prior to the 2012 arson. Photographed by
Carroll Van West, view northeast. Courtesy of the Middle Tennessee State University Center for Historic
Preservation, Digital Initiatives, James E. Walker Library, Middle Tennessee State University.
324
Author, student interviews, 2022; West, “Allen-White School,” section 7, page 1.
138
Another Arson and a New Era
Around 2:30 am on May 20, 2012, the campus was once again struck by an arsonist who
aimed to wreak havoc on the Allen-White community. The attacker(s) targeted the original
Dorris Hall Rosenwald building. The fire destroyed much of the building and its architectural
integrity was lost. (Figure 4.4) Like the Cheek Hall arson in 1971, the fire was obviously
intentional because the Dorris Hall building had not had electricity in several years, so an
electrical fire was not a possibility. Local community leader Evelyn C. Robertson worked with
the Whiteville Police Department to investigate the case, but inadequate evidence was found to
convict the suspected arsonist, and no connection was drawn to the previous two attacks on the
county training school’s campus. Robertson believes that while the first Cheek Hall burning in
1940 very likely had “racial undertones,” he’s unsure if the attacks in 1971 and 2012 were
racially motivated or the work of some “distracted individual” or perhaps a “disgruntled person.”
But the attacks in Whiteville reflect a greater pattern of arson attacks on Rosenwald schools
throughout the South, all of which are the result of hostility by local white supremacists. “It’s
just really baffling,” said Robertson, “…I mean, human nature hasn’t changed, you know? That
person’s still out there somewhere. That person probably is, you know, amazed at what we’re
still trying to do based on what they’ve already done. But that’s not detracting us from trying to
move forward.”
325
325
Robertson interview, 2022; West email, 2022; “Evelyn C. Robertson to Carroll Van West, 2012,” personal
correspondence informing Dr. West of the 2012 arson attack, Southern Places Collection, Middle Tennessee State
University Center for Historic Preservation.
139
Figure 4.4: Dorris Hall today, after damaged caused by the 2012 arson. Photo by the author, October 2022.
Despite yet another arson attack on campus, the local Black community still intends to
implement a conservation plan for the Allen-White School campus. Their efforts to conserve the
tangible legacy of Allen-White reflects the longstanding efforts of their predecessors, Jesse C.
Allen and James H. White, who both dedicated themselves to the cause of Black education in
Hardeman County. The ethos of Black uplift ingrained within the School is even embedded in
ECHO’s mission for a future Allen-White Community Center, which is to provide “remediation,
career preparation, and improved access to locally available and population focused technical
training and higher education to prepare youth and disenfranchised adults for gainful
employment in occupations that pay a living wage” in Hardeman County. These efforts are well-
timed because in recent years, Hardeman County was designated an economically “distressed
county” by the State, undoubtedly resulting from decades of inequity and government neglect of
140
the Black community, a racialized group which has historically maintained between one-third
and almost one-half of the County’s population and workforce.
326
The locals community’s intention to turn the former AW campus into a place that offers
public spaces and vocational training facilities to ensure rural Black residents have opportunities
for upward economic mobility is synonymous with the goal of the Rosenwald Fund’s school
building program and the mission of AW’s founders. Furthermore, facilities for workforce
training remain a much-needed resource in Hardeman County today. But since the 2012 fire, the
Whiteville community has entered a new era in their effort to conserve the Allen-White School,
one that offers multiple interpretive choices through a myriad of possible treatment approaches.
To accomplish their goal, the Elcanaan Community Hope Organization, which is still
spearheading the conservation efforts for the AW campus today, not only need more widespread
financial support and advocacy, but to perhaps consider alternative treatment options and
expanded methodologies. Doing so will allow local leaders to create a new place to gather and
learn while still conserving the campus’s fragile architectural resources and intangible cultural
heritage, which, together, tell the multi-layered story of conflict and resilience that has
strengthened the collective memory of the Allen-White community over the last one hundred
years. The following sections illustrate a few of these potential avenues for conserving both the
tangible and intangible heritage of the Allen-White School.
Possible Treatment Options for the Tangible Built Environment
The Four Treatments and their Intended Applications
The Secretary of the Interior’s (SOI) Standards for the Treatment of Historic Properties,
colloquially referred to as “the Standards,” currently provide an advisory framework for the
treatment of historic buildings. The intention of the Standards is to provide guidance for building
owners, conservation consultants, architects, and other professionals of the built environment
326
“Building for the Future,” 2019, 3; “Distressed Counties,” Transparent Tennessee, Tennessee Department of
Economic and Community Development, accessed December 7, 2022, https://www.tn.gov/transparenttn/state-
financial-overview/open-ecd/openecd/tnecd-performance-metrics/openecd-long-term-objectives-quick-
stats/distressed-counties.html. Population demographics were aggregated based on several US Census Bureau
sources, including: US Census Bureau, Table 3, Population of Civil Divisions Less Than Counties, Tennessee,
1850-1870, 264; US Census Bureau, Table 4, Population of Counties by Minor Civil Divisions 1920-1940, 1019;
“Our Changing Population: Hardeman County, Tennessee,” USAFacts.org, accessed December 7, 2022;
https://usafacts.org/data/topics/people-society/population-and-demographics/our-changing-
population/state/tennessee/county/hardeman-county?endDate=2021-01-01&startDate=2020-01-01/
141
through an established set of “nationally recognized criteria for determining the appropriate
changes to historic buildings and sites.”
327
Published and managed by the National Park Service
(NPS), the Standards have been adopted within state and local ordinances to implement
consistent regulations at all governmental levels. The Standards address four treatment options as
viable intervention strategies to conserve historic buildings, and includes separate guidelines for
each approach: preservation, rehabilitation, restoration, and reconstruction.
During the conservation process, a SOI treatment is chosen based on its appropriateness
for the scope of the project and specific site conditions, which vary on a case-by-case basis. The
preservation treatment is intended simply to protect, stabilize, and maintain a historic property
without significant alterations to its current condition. Rehabilitation, which is the most widely
applied treatment option, is used for buildings that need repair, alterations, or additions to
execute a compatible use for the historic building while still preserving features which convey its
historic value. Rehabilitation is often referred to as “adaptive use” because of the SOI
Rehabilitation Guidelines’ flexibility to assign a new use of the property. Restoration refers to
the act of depicting the property’s form, features, and character as they once appeared at a
particular period of time. To accomplish this, the SOI Guidelines for Restoration necessitate that
any features from other time periods be removed and any missing features from the period be
restored. Lastly, the reconstruction treatment is denoted by its use of new construction to emulate
the form and features of a site, landscape, building, structure, or object in its historic location that
no longer survives. The SOI Guidelines for Reconstruction suggest this treatment is primarily
used for interpretive purposes with all new materials that replicate the property’s original
appearance. Overall, the Standards acknowledge the need to include “limited and sensitive”
upgrades to the mechanical, electrical, and plumbing systems of historic structures to assure their
ongoing functionality and sustainability.
328
In the case of the Allen-White School (School), several potential treatment options would
be appropriate to conserve the campus’s remaining two buildings, per the SOI Standards. First,
327
Norman Tyler, Ilene R. Tyler, Ted J. Ligibel, Historic Preservation: An Introduction to its History, Principles,
and Practice, 3
rd
ed. (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2018): 150.
328
Tyler et al., Historic Preservation, 201-212, 275-279; Anne E. Grimmer, The Secretary of the Interior’s
Standards for the Treatment of Historic Properties with Guidelines for Preserving, Rehabilitating, Restoring, &
Reconstructing Historic Buildings (U.S. Department of the Interior, National Park Service, Technical Preservation
Services, 2017).
142
the Whiteville community might choose to reconstruct the original Dorris Hall building as it
appeared when it was first built in 1920 and remained on campus until the School closed in the
1970s. A reconstruction project would require new construction materials to emulate the original
building. For example, reconstructing Dorris Hall would require the community to augment the
building’s remaining walls with new construction, reconstruct the roof and interior walls, and
make other architectural changes that replicate the building as it stood during its period of
historic significance. A second option for the local community is to stabilize and preserve Dorris
Hall in its current state as a ruin, a move that would highlight the School’s history of hostility
and resilience. A third option is to first stabilize Dorris Hall, but then focus the community’s
conservation efforts on rehabilitating the 1964 elementary school instead. An adaptive use
project would help generate immediate revenue to then address options for conserving Dorris
Hall in the future. Lastly, a combination of two or more of these treatments—reconstruction,
preservation, and rehabilitation—may be advantageous to create new meaning on campus and
celebrate AW’s history while still accurately conveying its past. Below is an analysis of a few
potential treatment options along with case study examples of each that represent the diverse
approaches available to conserve the Allen-White School’s remaining built environment.
Option One: Reconstructing Dorris Hall
In the first decade of the twenty-first century, ECHO was working with Dr. West and the
Center for Historic Preservation at Middle Tennessee State University to plan museum
exhibitions for the rehabilitated campus facilities. When Dorris Hall building was incinerated in
May 2012, the scope of the project changed drastically. The original Rosenwald building lost
most of its structural integrity and architectural features as a result of the damage caused by the
fire, which meant a new conservation approach was needed. Overnight, the chosen SOI
rehabilitation treatment was no longer feasible, and the community had to assess other
conservation options. Once again, the residents of Hardeman County rallied to overcome the
catastrophic racialized violence that seemed to perpetually target their campus, and local leaders
decided to shift the treatment approach to a total reconstruction of the 1920 building. In the
following months, ECHO organizers hired an architect and building engineer to survey the two
campus buildings and create construction plan drawings for a reconstructed Dorris Hall. (Figure
143
4.5) The building engineer found that Dorris Hall’s foundation remained structurally sound,
however its brick-framed walls needed total replacement.
Figure 4.5: Reconstruction rendering of the proposed Allen-White Center for Education and Cultural Advancement,
ca. 2000-2010, artist unknown. Courtesy of the Elcanaan Community Hope Organization (ECHO).
At present, ECHO and the Whiteville community plan to remove Dorris Hall’s damaged
concrete and brick materials and replace them with new construction materials situated on top of
the original foundation in roughly the same 6-A “H” shaped floor plan design originated by
Samuel L. Smith and Fletcher B. Dresslar and published in the Rosenwald Fund’s Community
School Plans pamphlets. The project leaders hope to reuse some of the building’s original brick,
however much of it must be replaced to safeguard the new building’s structural stability.
Because it was not subject to the most recent arson attack, the extant elementary school building
to the north of Dorris Hall is still considered a rehabilitation project in its own right, given the
building’s predominate need for interior repairs. However, plans to rehabilitate the later facility
remain secondary to conserving the original Rosenwald building.
Consequently, the fundraising campaign to reconstruct Allen-White’s Dorris Hall has
amplified in recent years. In 2016, ECHO received a $90,000 grant from the State of Tennessee,
largely through the leadership of State Representative Johnny Shaw, who graduated from Allen-
White in 1963. ECHO leaders then worked with the Southwest Tennessee Development District
(SWTDD) in 2018 to secure project consultation and funding strategy development assistance
144
from the Jones-Bridget Consulting Group in Nashville. Through this partnership, ECHO has
been able to expand its benefactors to include the West Tennessee Healthcare Foundation,
Jackson State Community College, and the USDA Rural Development program, among other
Tennessee state government departments. The following year, ECHO prepared the “Allen-White
Center for Education and Cultural Advancement Capital Campaign Case Statement,” which was
presented to various Tennessee government officials, including Governor Bill Lee, for his
consideration “in keeping with his administration’s dual focus on rural economic development in
Tennessee’s distressed counties and support for non-profit and faith-based initiatives.” ECHO’s
pitch to legislators statewide proved successful, and in May 2019, the Whiteville community
received another construction grant from the State of Tennessee totaling $50,000.
329
While these
grants certainly push ECHO toward its conservation goal, their sum total is not nearly enough to
accomplish the campus vision. Consequently, at the time of writing, the efforts to reconstruct
AW’s Dorris Hall remain ongoing, almost fifty years after the county training school closed its
doors.
When discussing whether reconstruction is an appropriate option for lost cultural
resources like Dorris Hall, the question of authenticity always arises. The reconstruction
approach is meant to provide context for interpretation. However, many heritage professionals
and scholars argue that because reconstruction involves the most change to a property, its
extreme nature may actually be more detrimental than beneficial in conveying an authentic
representation of the site’s history. Scholar Michael James Kelleher begs the question, “why
destroy the last authentic remains of a historic structure, in order to construct a modern facsimile
of it?”
330
Architect Albert Good was among the first to criticize American reconstruction projects
for their ability to make buildings appear “more glamorous” than they actually were in original
form. Good writes that “misguided efforts” in reconstruction projects “have forever lost to us
much that was authentic, if crumbling…while the faint shadow of the genuine often makes more
intelligent appeal to the imagination than the crass and visionary replica.”
331
The belief that reconstructed buildings present an “artificial illusion” of what once stood
and therefore diminish authenticity is synonymous with the argument against the
329
“Building for the Future,” 2019, 2; Robertson interview, 2022.
330
Michael James Kelleher, “Making History: Reconstructing Historic Structures in the National Park System,”
(Master’s thesis, University of Pennsylvania, 1998), 3.
331
Albert H. Hood, Park and Recreation Structures (Boulder, Colorado: Graybooks, 1990) [1938]: 185-187.
145
“Disneyfication” of architecture, a phenomenon that’s gained criticism in recent years.
332
Steeped in nostalgia, “Disneyfied” reconstruction projects often depict a “faux-heritage” or
“hyperreality” of place, typically in an effort to commodify heritage for tourism purposes. But
the term has seeped into vernacular reconstruction projects as well, with critics arguing that the
SOI’s reconstruction treatment inherently presents a “Disneyfied” or simplified representation of
the past, and falsely interprets the heritage of a place.
333
However, the above arguments place a higher value on the authenticity of physical
materials and the significance of the tangible fabric of a building, rather than its interpretive
meaning or ability to educate the public on past events. Heritage conservationist Randall Mason
writes that, if we are to “[assume] these material efforts tacitly shape memory,” and are to
“[concern] ourselves with reshaping memory,” heritage professionals must focus less on “fixing
things” and instead on “sustaining memory” via the built environment. He argues that although
the relationship between building fabric and memory is the fundamental connection by which we
assign meaning and significance to places, the almost obsessive need to address “material
matters” has “now become the tail that is wagging the dog.”
334
Fellow conservationist Donovan D. Rypkema agrees, contending that heritage
professionals “need to reestablish the relationship between why something is deemed worthy of
historic designation and the rules we have in place to maintain its significance.” He continues by
questioning the current framework for treatment selection, writing that “if materials, for
example, were in no way part of what creates the significance of the building, why are we being
rabid about what materials are used…?”
335
Translated to the ongoing efforts on the AW campus,
Rypkema would argue that new brick replacing Dorris Hall’s original brick should not be a
constraining factor in conserving the site, because it does not restrict its ability to convey
significant historical meaning. In response to scrutiny surrounding the concept of authenticity,
the 1994 Nara Document on Authenticity further defines the term and attempts to broaden its
332
Charles B. Hosmer, Preservation Comes of Age: From Williamsburg to the National Trust, 1926-1949
(Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia [for the Preservation Press], 1981): 598, quoted in Kelleher, “Making
History,” 8; Laurajane Smith, Uses of Heritage (London: Routledge, 2006): 28, 33.
333
Smith, Uses of Heritage, 33; Shulan Fu and Jean Hillier, “Disneyfication or Self-Referentiality: Recent
Conservation Efforts and Modern Planning History in Datong,” in China: A Historical Geography of the Urban,
Palgrave Macmillan, November 21, 2017, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-64042-6_8.
334
Randall Mason, “Fixing Historic Preservation: A Constructive Critique of “Significance”,” Places 16, no. 1,
(2004): 64-65, https://escholarship.org/uc/item/74q0j4j2.
335
Donovan D. Rypkema, “Making Historic Preservation Relevant for the Next 50 Years,” Forum Journal 24, no. 3,
(Spring 2010).
146
meaning beyond the traditional Western-centric emphasis on material significance. By creating a
global standard that assigns historic significance according to a range of cultural factors beyond
the authenticity of building materials, the 1994 document represents the heritage industry’s
changing values as being potentially more inclusive of reconstruction projects, as long as they
authentically convey collective memory and reflect community needs.
336
One such example of the shifting dialogue in the global heritage community is Dresden’s
eighteenth century Frauenkirche, which was razed by Allied bombing in 1945 and reconstructed
over sixty years later in 2006. The topic of much national debate in Germany, the cathedral was
reduced to rubble during the War and remained a painful reminder of the Nazi era for decades.
After post-Communist reunification in 1990, a renewed enthusiasm for German nationalism
drove efforts to reconstruct the church, a project which ultimately had more to do with the
country’s re-unification than it did with the Frauenkirche’s destruction. The cathedral was rebuilt
almost exactly as it stood prior to the War, a site that what was once a harrowing reminder of a
painful past now representative of Germany’s recovery and future. Despite criticism from
conservationists who would have preferred alternative treatment approaches that favored the
materiality of the original Frauenkirche, the building that stands today represents a broader idea
of authenticity as defined by the people of Germany.
337
Like the Frauenkirche, the choice to reconstruct Allen-White’s Dorris Hall reflects the
community’s desire to convey the School’s cultural significance as a representation of its
collective memory. By including a vocational training center and museum, ECHO hopes to
provide an authentic interpretation of the building as it once stood, both in function and
architectural appearance. Given the expanded conversation in the heritage field surrounding the
topic of authenticity, their goal can certainly be achieved, especially with the level of
documentation that already exists. If representation is the primary objective, historic photographs
and Dr. West’s National Register survey would certainly provide enough evidence for an
accurate reconstruction. This was the method used for other significant reconstruction projects in
the United States, like the Governor’s Palace in Williamsburg and George Washington’s treading
336
“The Nara Document on Authenticity,” Nara Conference on Authenticity in Relation to the World Heritage
Convention, ICOMOS Symposia, 1994.
337
Robert Garland Thomson, “Authenticity and the Post-Conflict Reconstruction of Historic Sites,” CRM: The
Journal of Heritage Stewardship 5, no. 1, National Park Service (Winter 2008): 64, 68-69.
147
barn at Mount Vernon.
338
Because the current vision for a reconstructed Dorris Hall is meant to
serve the local community rather than a broader tourist market, the project can easily avoid the
“Disneyfication” effect that often skews cultural representation in the built environment to
generate a profit. Moreover, AW’s Dorris Hall was nominated for the National Register based on
its association with patterns of Black heritage (Criterion A), rather than its architectural merit
(Criterion C), which allows for a more flexible treatment approach than had the building
represented the work of a master architect or a significant architectural style.
But by neglecting the architectural significance of Dorris Hall’s original material fabric
with the reconstruction treatment approach, it could be argued that there is a missed opportunity
in the community’s conservation efforts to convey the campus history more authentically. The
building reflects the early work of the Rosenwald Fund’s Nashville-based school building
program masterminds Samuel L. Smith and Fletcher B. Dresslar, and thus served as a model for
other Rosenwald funded county training schools built in the years following. Even more
significant is Dorris Hall’s designation as the first brick Rosenwald building in Tennessee, and
most likely in the entire South. The use of brick represents the work of the trade students at
Allen-White, the ingenuity of the Whiteville community, and their determination to erect a
school by any means possible in the early years of AW’s history. To take away the original
construction materials and replace them with a new building fabric may detract not only from the
School’s architectural authenticity, but from its ability to authentically reflect the self-
determination philosophy that represented Rosenwald school communities and the Fund’s
founders. For this reason, reconstruction may not be the best SOI treatment for Dorris Hall.
Therefore, community leaders in Whiteville are urged to consider a broader selection of
treatment options that address AW’s tangible built environment.
Understanding Sites of Conflict and Conscience
To select the most appropriate treatment, the Whiteville community must address another
layer of Allen-White’s history that has yet to be considered in their conservation efforts: arson.
Although unproven by the local judicial system, AW has suffered four arson attacks in its
history. The first was the fire that burned the Whiteville Masonic Lodge in 1910, home to the
Jesse C. Allen School for Colored Children. Next, the original wood-framed Cheek Hall building
338
Tyler et al., Historic Preservation, 208-209.
148
burned in 1941, followed by an attack on the new brick Cheek Hall complex in 1971. Finally, the
1920 Dorris Hall building met the same fate in 2012. Arson tells a painful story of the past, one
that perhaps the Whiteville community would prefer to forget. But when it comes to authenticity
in heritage conservation, the multiple occurrences of arson on Allen-White’s campus should not
be overlooked within the broader context of racism in the Jim Crow South. Instead, ECHO and
the Hardeman County community might consider a new perspective, one that acknowledges
AW’s campus as a conflict-impacted historic site, rather than simply a successful twentieth
century institution for Black education worth reconstructing for parallel use.
In his article “Authenticity and the Post-Conflict Reconstruction of Historic Sites,”
heritage conservationist and archeologist Robert Garland Thomson echoes the attitudes of Mason
and Rypkema, calling for a new framework of “revised authenticities” that focus less on material
authenticity per strict professional requirements, and instead on community responses to address
post-conflict sites that have suffered extensive damage as being authentic in their own right,
“even if only in memory.” Reflecting primarily on post-war sites of conflict, Thomson claims
that:
Episodes of conflict (among other things, of course) contribute to the histories of
buildings, often in dramatic or catastrophic ways that can permanently alter—or even
destroy—their material integrity. Although these episodes certainly compromise a
building’s originality and connection to a particular time or author, they can also imbue
the structure with a new meaning or even enhance its previous significance.
Such is the case with Berlin’s 1895 Kaiser Wilhelm Gedächtniskirche (Memorial Church) which,
like Dresden’s Frauenkirche, was reduced to rubble in 1943 during World War II. Now a post-
conflict site, Berliners chose a different approach to address the ruin’s difficult history. Instead of
a complete reconstruction, architect Egon Eiermann was prompted by the local community to
execute a combined reconstruction-preservation approach, one that rebuilt the monolithic
cathedral using modern materials, yet still retained the original damaged church tower and some
of the rubble that remained on site in the years following the War with glass encapsulation.
Today, the Gedächtniskirche expresses a different and perhaps more complex message than in
Dresden: one that depicts the successful recovery of post-war Germany while at the same time
149
serves as a reminder of the terror and suffering of the “wasteland” that was Berlin during the
War years.
339
Though not a war-torn site, the same sentiment illustrated by Thomson can be applied to
AW’s campus, which has suffered multiple hostile “conflict episode[s]” of arson during its
history, each of which have absolutely “[bestowed] new historic significance upon an already
meaningful place.” Thomson argues that, ultimately, it is up to the site’s constituent community
to decide the best course of action for reconstruction, or perhaps another desired treatment to
address the site’s violent past. By this notion, AW’s community may find that the current “tabula
rasa” reconstruction approach is best to reconcile and move forward from the arson attacks that
have plagued the School’s history, a move that, according to the 1994 Nara Document and
progressive conservationists, would construct a “revised authenticity” approach in its own
right.
340
But perhaps an alternate approach would allow AW’s existing building fabric, with
Dorris Hall at its center, to stand as a “site of conscience” moving forward to convey both the
School’s architectural and cultural authenticity. Defined as a place of memory “that prevents
erasure from happening in order to ensure a more just and humane future,” sites of conscience
also have the distinct ability to “provide safe spaces to remember and preserve even the most
traumatic memories,” thus enabling their visitors “to make connections between the past and
related contemporary human rights issues.”
341
Two examples of existing sites of conscience in America include Manzanar National
Historic Site in Northern California where 10,000 Japanese-Americans were imprisoned during
World War II, and the Shockoe Bottom District in Richmond, Virginia, home to the country’s
second-largest domestic marketplace for buying and selling enslaved persons after New Orleans.
Both sites represent a new commitment in the heritage field to uncover places of shame in
American history. And with racism an ongoing issue today, especially in the recent political
climate of the United States at the time of writing, there is a dire need to create more sites of
conscience across the country. In light of this, the Hardeman County community might instead
choose to keep Dorris Hall in its dilapidated state as a site of conscience that represents the
339
Thomson, “Authenticity,” 74-77.
340
Thomson, “Authenticity,” 64-80.
341
“About Us,” International Coalition of Sites of Conscience, accessed December 14, 2022,
https://www.sitesofconscience.org/about-us/about-us/.
150
School’s difficult layers of history and promotes discussions regarding interracial conflict and
social justice in the twenty-first century.
342
Option Two: Preserving a Ruin
To erase the physical impact of the last tragic arson event on AW’s campus with a
reconstructed building in its place is to potentially negate the underlying causes of racism that
created the segregated Rosenwald public school system in the first place. But the choice to
reconstruct is an understandable one. Most communities that have suffered physical loss do not
want to be reminded of a tragedy embedded in their heritage. In Whiteville, however, ECHO has
the opportunity to tell the greater story of place and its relationship to racialized persons of the
Black community through the tangible built environment that remains on campus. Confronting
this layer of the School’s more troublesome history can help narrate the Hardeman County
community’s astounding ability to overcome conflict by exploring themes of segregation,
inequity, and—most importantly—resiliency that pervaded the Jim Crow and Civil Rights Era
American South. Therefore, per the SOI Standards, the appropriate treatment option to conserve
Dorris Hall as a site of conscience would be preservation, which calls for stabilization and
maintenance of the building with as few changes to its current state as possible.
343
The remains of Dorris Hall, which have essentially been reduced to a ruin, serve as a
striking example of the hostility that manifests from White supremacy. Arson is a sadly
compelling part of the Allen-White story, and it represents the persistent White aggression that
affects Rosenwald school communities across the South. So much so that in 1922, Smith and the
Rosenwald Fund built arson into their grant allocation framework by offering additional funds to
school communities that had been targeted by an arson attack.
344
The choice to highlight rather
than hide Whiteville’s history of arson by preserving Dorris Hall as a “noble ruin” would allow
the remains of the building to speak for themselves in their current state, telling the story of
AW’s layers of history without any enhancement or modification. The idea of ruins attaining
truth and nobility as time passes with minimal intervention stems from nineteenth century
342
Max Page, “Sites of Conscience: Shockoe Bottom, Manzanar, and Mountain Meadows,” Preservation Magazine
(Fall 2015), National Trust for Historic Preservation, accessed December 14, 2022,
https://savingplaces.org/stories/sites-of-conscience.
343
Grimmer, The Standards, 27-75.
344
Mary S. Hoffschwelle, The Rosenwald Schools of the American South (Gainesville, FL: University Press of
Florida, 2006): 121.
151
architectural writer John Ruskin, who believed that when it comes to interpreting architecture in
future generations, the stone speaks for itself:
…let it be such work as our descendants will thank us for, and let us think, as we lay
stone on stone, that a time is to come when those stones will be held sacred because our
hands have touched them, and that men will say as they look upon the labour and
wrought substance of them, ‘See! This our fathers did for us.’…For, indeed, the greatest
glory of a building is not in its stones, nor its gold. Its glory is in its age.
345
The ruin preservation approach offers ECHO the freedom to create a site of multifaceted
meaning conveyed in its decay: a site of memory, of celebration, of pride, of remembrance, and
of commemoration, one that would not even exist had it not been for the antipathy toward Black
Americans perpetuated by racism in the first place.
Several strategies for conserving ruins have emerged in recent years, many of which
place emphasis on conserving ruins as interpretive spaces with the SOI preservation treatment
approach, or a combination of preservation with other SOI treatment options as was the case in
Berlin. Perhaps the purest form of preservation is exemplified in the Genbaku Dome, or
Hiroshima Peace Memorial in Japan. The building was the only structure that remained in the
city center after the first American atomic bomb devastated the city. Through the efforts of the
City of Hiroshima and its citizens, the site has been preserved in the same state as it was
immediately after the bombing. Though lacking architectural integrity as a result of the bombing,
the ruin has undergone minimum reinforcement with steel and synthetic resin over the years,
which has helped stabilize and maintain the building’s material and cultural authenticity. A new
layer of “spiritual authenticity” has been added by the Hiroshima community with the addition of
a prayer space in the site’s “buffer zone.” The “silent structure” in its ruinous form represents the
most destructive power of war “ever created by humankind,” and yet reminds us that there is
hope in achieving world peace one day. The choice to preserve Hiroshima’s post-conflict
Genbaku Dome as site of conscience in its state of rubble demonstrates the deeply emotional
impact ruins can have on our collective memories of place.
346
One example of heritage conservation via the preservation approach that reflects a new
layer of history is the Casa Grande Ruin in southern Arizona. Spanish for “big house,” the site
345
John Ruskin, Seven Lamps of Architecture (London: Electric Book Company, 2000): 243.
346
“Hiroshima Peace Memorial (Genbaku Dome), Japan” UNESCO World Heritage List, accessed December 15,
2022, https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/775/.
152
was constructed in the thirteenth century by Sonoran Desert farming people who resided in the
region at the time. The structure is made of caliche, a hardened natural cement made from
earthen materials, using indigenous Hohokam building techniques. Despite its fragile state, the
ruin has managed to survive extreme desert conditions for centuries since its abandonment in
1450. The nineteenth century saw an increased awareness and anthropological study of Casa
Grande, which led to a higher volume of tourists and subsequent vandalism and graffiti on the
historic site. In the last decades of the century, early American archeologists and heritage
conservationists increased efforts to conserve the site by constructing a wood roof over the “big
house” in 1903.
In 1906, Congress passed the Antiquities Act, which created the framework to protect
prehistoric sites such as Casa Grande in the United States. Today, the original wood roof has
been replaced by a new shelter designed in 1928 by Frederick Law Olmsted Jr., the son of
notable American landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted. The twentieth century hipped roof
addition is made of steel with glass skylights and supported by angled columns. The choice to
use modern materials rather than caliche fuses together traditional materials with contemporary
ones, and is meant to create “as far a departure from the design and material of the ruin as can be
obtained.” As a result, the new roof has gained historic significance in its own right over the past
century since it was installed. The roof shelter is the only major protective alteration to the Casa
Grande Ruin, a site otherwise preserved simply through routine maintained every two years. The
inclusion of a roof shelter alters the meaning of Casa Grande by juxtaposing its prehistoric past
with the modern present, which allows visitors to interpret the monument’s multilayered history
through a conservation approach that highlights the authenticity of both architectural elements.
347
Both of these case study examples implement a unique approach to the SOI preservation
treatment of ruins in an effort to bridge the connection between people, space, and place at
historic sites. There exists a multitude of ways to create meaningful spaces for heritage
interpretation via preservation, especially at places that have suffered significant damage
resulting from conflicts in their past, such as the Allen-White School campus. Recognizing the
347
“Casa Grande Ruins: History & Culture,” National Park Service, last updated December 22, 2020, accessed
December 15, 2022, https://www.nps.gov/cagr/learn/historyculture; “Casa Grande and the Antiquities Act,”
National Park Service, accessed December 15, 2022, https://www.nps.gov/articles/000/casa-grande-and-the-
antiquities-act; “Pre-History Meets Modernity: Casa Grande Ruins National Monument,” Earth Architecture,
November 7, 2008, accessed December 15, 2022, https://eartharchitecture.org/?p=422.
153
significance of the remaining architecture and the painful arson attacks that are embedded in the
layers AW’s complex history would perhaps allow new meaning to emerge in ECHO’s
conservation efforts, one that brings to light the narrative of community resilience in the wake of
violence through a preservation treatment approach.
Option Three: Rehabilitating a Campus
The SOI treatment approaches discussed thus far have only addressed potential options
for the 1920 Dorris Hall building on Allen-White’s campus. While the ruin is certainly the most
historically significant structure remaining, and in dire need of attention, locals in Whiteville
have focused their efforts almost exclusively on its conservation, rather than on conserving the
extant 1964 elementary school at its north. It could be argued that with their current conservation
plan to reconstruct Dorris Hall, ECHO is perhaps overlooking the campus’s most important asset
in the elementary school building, a resource that the community already has access to as a
potential interpretive space. Despite several decades of deferred maintenance and vandalism to
its interior, the extant elementary school is currently in better shape than the original Rosenwald
brick building. Its presence on campus is not an anomaly, but rather a significant part of AW’s
heritage that is directly linked to the school’s tangible built environment. Since it was built in
1964, the elementary school building has gained significance in its own right, both as an example
of mid-century institutional architecture and for its association with Black education in the South
during the Civil Rights Era. For these reasons, the community might consider the SOI
rehabilitation treatment approach to capitalize on the building’s presence as a functional space on
campus.
Because it is the most common SOI treatment approach, a multitude of case study
examples that demonstrate successful rehabilitation projects can be found around the world.
“Adaptive use” projects—as the treatment has become known in the linguistic vernacular—have
the ability to transform historic buildings into sites of new purpose for various commercial,
residential, and social uses while still retaining their cultural value and architectural character
defining features. One such example is the Administration-Clock Tower Building located in
Chicago’s Pullman Historic District (District), which, like Allen-White, has suffered the effects
of arson. The building is one of many historically significant extant buildings situated within the
District, which is historically significant as the first planned industrial community in the United
154
States. It was developed by railroad tycoon George Pullman for his Pullman Company industrial
complex beginning in 1880. The District also gained significance in 1894 when railroad workers
went on strike to combat high rents and low wages in the Pullman community, an event that
became known as the Pullman Strike. After several years of local heritage activism, the District
was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in the 1960s. Later, serious plans to
rehabilitate the Pullman community took root in the 1990s. In 2015, after several conservation
projects, the Pullman Historic District was designated a national monument by President Barack
Obama and fell under the authority of the NPS for visitor interpretation.
The Administration-Clock Tower Building was among the first buildings constructed in
the Pullman community in 1880. Also known as the Administration and Factory Complex, the
building functioned as the high-style manufacturing center for the Pullman Company. In 1998,
the building was seriously damaged by an arson fire, and local politicians took immediate action
to stabilize and rehabilitate the building. Led by Illinois Governor George H. Ryan and Chicago
mayor Richard M. Daley, a task force was created in 1999 to assess the damage to the site and
lead the community process for the building’s stabilization. The Pullman Factory Task Force
included local residents, heritage conservationists, economic development specialists, and other
civic leaders.
Following their report on best practices, Governor Ryan granted $10 million in funds to
contribute to the stabilization and rehabilitation work on the Administration-Clock Tower
Building, which is still ongoing with financial help from the NPS. Once completed, the building
will serve as the National Park Service’s visitor center and museum exhibition space for the
Pullman State Historic Site. The choice to rehabilitate the damaged Administration-Clock Tower
Building will conserve the building’s surviving architectural features and monumental presence
within the Pullman community, while at the same create a source of revenue for the District by
offering a new space for public interpretation and interaction with the heritage of the monument
site as a District.
348
348
“Pullman National Monument,” “Administration-Clock Tower Building,” National Park Service, accessed
December 15, 2022, https://www.nps.gov/pull; Sophie Francesca Cantell, “The Adaptive Reuse of Historic
Industrial Buildings: Regulation Barriers, Best Practices and Case Studies,” (Master’s thesis, Virginia Polytechnic
Institute and State University, 2005), 25; Maria Maynez, “Work to Begin on Visitors Center in Pullman’s Historical
Clock Tower,” Block Club Chicago, February 3, 2020, accessed December 15, 2022,
https://blockclubchicago.org/2020/02/03/work-to-begin-on-visitors-center-in-pullmans-historic-clock-tower/.
155
The 1964 elementary school on AW’s campus offers similar adaptive use possibilities
should the Whiteville community choose the rehabilitation approach. The most important step in
this type of project would first be to stabilize the Dorris Hall building to prevent any further
decay. Then, conservation plans would shift to focus on the 1964 facility by using the funds
ECHO has already raised to rehabilitate the elementary school building to includes spaces like
modern vocational classrooms, community meeting halls, an interpretive museum exhibit, or
even a tourist visitor’s center akin to Pullman’s Administration-Clock Tower Building, all of
which would contribute to the vision for the Allen-White Center for Education and Cultural
Advancement. Furthermore, the choice to first rehabilitate the elementary school would generate
revenue through sources like public admissions fees and school tuition to support future
conservation projects on campus.
Rehabilitating Allen-White’s elementary school building also offers immediate benefits
when it comes to the community’s relationship and potential partnerships with city and county
planning agencies. ECHO has already conducted a historic resources survey of AW’s campus
during its 2005 National Register nomination process, a pivotal step in grassroots heritage
planning for vacant or underutilized properties such as AW that may be at risk of decay or
demolition.
349
Conducting a historic resources survey involves not only the constituent
community, but also engages other local stakeholders and the public with the architecture of a
historic site. These historic asset inventories are typically used to support government decision
making, and in Allen-White’s case, may be a “catalyst for economic growth,” according to urban
planning scholar Jennifer Minner, that can “enhance [the site’s] real estate value, contribute to
state and local economies, influence the location of businesses, and encourage heritage
tourism.”
350
A rehabilitation project on AW’s campus would be mutually beneficial for state agencies
as well, allowing the government to profit from increased property tax revenue generated from
the campus and reduced social costs like vandalism and other crimes that “strain the resources of
local police, fire, building, and health departments” on abandoned sites like Allen-White’s
campus in its current state.
351
Moreover, a partnership between Whiteville’s planning agency and
349
Cantell, “Adaptive Reuse,” 24.
350
Jennifer Minner, “Revealing Synergies, Tensions, and Silences Between Preservation and Planning,” Journal of
the American Planning Association 82, no. 2, (Spring 2016): 77.
351
Cantell, “Adaptive Reuse,” 5.
156
the local Black community would create an opportunity to make reparations for the State’s
racialized wrongdoings of the past through a collective effort to widen “preservation’s sphere of
engagement to focus on underserved and excluded groups.” By establishing an “equity
preservation agenda,” the local government can allocate resources to imply “the potential for
greater equity in terms of whose histories are emphasized” in Hardeman County.
352
Option Four: A Combined Treatment Approach
A combined treatment approach is perhaps the ideal strategy to address Allen-White’s
conservation needs. The previous sections provided options for each individual building using
the reconstruction, preservation, and rehabilitation SOI approaches, but a combination of two or
more of the Standards to address both Dorris Hall and the elementary school facility together
would probably best represent the relationship between the two extant architectural resources,
and allow AW to reaffirm its presence as a cohesive school campus in Hardeman County. This
type of approach gives the Whiteville community the ability to create a greater campuswide
landscape that would renew not just the buildings, but the surrounding school grounds as well.
Furthermore, a combination of the SOI treatments to address both historic resources as one
united place may create an opportunity to establish a historic district similar to the Pullman
District in Chicago, which could help restore a sense of place to the School’s tangible built
environment for the Allen-White community.
In a more radical combined treatment approach, heritage conservationists, architects, and
local community leaders chose to combine the preservation and reconstruction SOI treatments to
conserve the Menokin plantation in Warsaw, Virginia. They deemed the approach “dynamic
preservation,” and the goal of the project is to “present a transparent view into the social,
political, and economic forces” that shaped Menokin’s past as a plantation in the eighteenth
century American South. The property was originally built and owned by founding father Francis
Lightfoot Lee, and served as a tobacco plantation with enslaved labor in Virginia’s Tidewater
Region. By the end of the twentieth century, the house had fallen into a state of disrepair when
local heritage advocates purchased it for conservation.
The “Glass House Project,” which is currently underway at Menokin, strives to balance
the two chosen SOI treatment approaches to tell a comprehensive story of the site as both a
352
Minner, “Revealing Synergies,” 80.
157
prominent example of western architecture, as well as a site of conscience that recounts the
country’s institution of enslavement that made these architectural relics possible. The project
first implements the preservation approach by stabilizing and maintaining the original fabric of
the neo-Palladian building, about eighty percent of which survived after a tree fell on the house
and the building partially collapsed in the 1960s. Next, conservationists aim to reconstruct the
collapsed parts of the ruin’s built environment by encasing the reconstructed “guts” of the
original house with a glass shell exterior that starkly contrasts the home’s original sandstone,
white oak, and pine materials.
353
The combined approach will allow visitors to experience the
remains of the house in its preserved state, while also giving them the opportunity to interpret the
reconstructed building with a new conservation design approach that, in the words of project
engineer James O’Callahan, “literally gives a transparent view of history and of the art and
science of construction.” In future years, project leaders hope to implement the rehabilitation
Standard for other historic buildings at Menokin, and will potentially add a visitors center and
museum space to the five hundred acre landscape.
354
A “dynamic preservation” approach would suit the extant AW buildings as well. ECHO
might choose to preserve the Dorris Hall ruin in its current state to stand alone like at
Hiroshima’s Genbaku Dome, or potentially with a glass-clad reconstruction for visitors to
interact with, similar to Menokin’s strategy. The community may even consider encapsulating
the building’s remains for interpretation at a distance, as was the case with the clock tower at
Berlin’s Gedächtniskirche. Simultaneously, local leaders can rehabilitate the elementary school
building into a functional space that houses vocational training programs for the Allen-White
Center for Education and Cultural Advancement, and possibly even add a contextual building
addition per the SOI rehabilitation Standard to serve as an interpretive community center and
museum exhibition space.
355
The option to somehow connect the buildings also exists, thus
creating a multi-functional interpretive, educational, and social space that creates new uses on
campus and also represents the School community’s resiliency and pride within the built
environment. A project like this would likely require multiple phases to accomplish the long-
353
“Our Bold Plan,” “Story of the House,” “Story of the People,” “The Glass House Project,” Menokin, accessed
December 15, 2022, https://www.menokin.org/.
354
Sean Joyner, “'The Glass House Project’ Begins Construction at the Menokin Foundation, ”Archinet News, last
modified June 26, 2020, accessed December 15, 2022, https://archinect.com/news/article/150204458/the-glass-
house-project-begins-construction-at-the-menokin-foundation.
355
Grimmer, The Standards, 75-153; Tyler et al., Historic Preservation, 204-206.
158
term goal of a cohesive campus landscape, and more financial capital to complete the design
would certainly be necessary.
A combined treatment approach would be well worth the multifaceted complexities of the
project because it would allow AW’s new campus design to thrive by utilizing a significant
community planning strategy called “placemaking.” The tool seeks to capture the unique value
of a place for commercial, economic, and social development by creating a sense of belonging
through human and spatial relationships. Heritage theorist James Michael Buckley argues that, in
the field of heritage conservation, placemaking is an excellent design tool to address the histories
of underrepresented populations “in ways that traditional interpretations have not—that is, using
the locations where minority culture is produced to strengthen community bonds.” According to
Buckley, placemaking, as an aesthetic approach, has the ability to enact identities that are
embedded in the physical and social fabric of a place, and is therefore able to heighten a sense of
belonging “through an expression of historical connections and relationships,” especially for
ethnic cultural communities such as the Black neighborhood within which Allen-White’s campus
is situated. Placemaking projects often include design elements like public art works, street
furniture installations, and landscape plantings that promote togetherness and invoke these
“community bonds.” With a combined treatment approach to address AW’s campus as a whole,
the Whiteville community can incorporate some of these placemaking elements to activate the
campus as a renewed space that strengthens the identity of the community and renews its
physical built environment for future, long-term use.
356
The Problem with Integrity
Regardless of which treatment option the Allen-White community ultimately chooses, the
broader issue of building integrity will certainly play a role in their conservation plan. According
to the SOI Standards, the importance of any eligible property must be evaluated based on its
historic or architectural integrity to determine how well it represents the period or thematic
context for which it is being recognized, or its “ability to convey its significance.” Integrity has
become an important part of assessing historic buildings since the passage of the 1966 National
Historic Preservation Act, a landmark piece of legislation that established the National Register
356
James Michael Buckley, “People in Place: Local Planning to Preserve Diverse Cultures,” The Oxford Handbook
of Public Heritage Theory and Practice (Oxford: Oxford University, 2018): 295-308.
159
of Historic Places and its original standards for the conservation of historic properties. So much
so that integrity often becomes a make or break condition for properties getting listed on the
local, state, or National Register. In order to be listed as historic, a property must meet “several”
or “usually most” of the seven “aspects of integrity,” which include location, design, setting,
materials, workmanship, feeling, and association.
357
Like the connection between a property’s authenticity and significance, the relationship
between its integrity and significance are very much intertwined and heavily emphasized in the
current SOI Standards for conserving the tangible built environment. But the issue of integrity
has also become a topic of much debate in the heritage field in recent years. As is the case in the
debate over authenticity, heritage professionals have come to realize that the scope of the SOI’s
aspects of integrity is far too limiting, reliant almost exclusively on determinations of
architectural quality, along with physical evidence, to support heritage value. Although the
designation criteria and integrity requirements do make room for consideration of cultural
heritage with aspects like feeling and association, their presence is often not enough to secure
protection for a site without the support of the other aspects that relate directly to the tangible
built environment, such as design or materials. Because of these limitations, many professionals
now argue that the current requirements for landmarking in the United States disregard a broader
concept of significance, one that reflects the cultural importance of historic places that is
inherently represented through their intangible characteristics. Heritage scholars Doris J. Dyen
and Edward K. Muller agree with this changing attitude toward integrity, especially when it
comes to the evolutionary nature of conservation interpretation as places gain significance over
time. They note that “historical significance depends on historical interpretation, which is by
nature changing over time.”
358
Although some communities are more liberal than others regarding what aspects
constitute integrity for local nomination, the field’s hyper fixation on architectural integrity
presents an even greater problem when it comes to an equitable representation of heritage.
Measuring heritage value via physical attributes has allowed conservationists to maintain a
357
Tyler et al., Historic Preservation, 97; National Register Bulletin 15, 44. “The Secretary of the Interior’s
Standards for the Treatment of Historic Properties: History of the Standards, National Park Service, last updated
September 22, 2022, accessed December 17, 2022, https://www.nps.gov/articles/000/treatment-standards-history.
358
Doris J. Dyen and Edward K. Muller, “Conserving the Heritage of Industrial Communities: The Compromising
Issue of Integrity,” Historic Preservation Forum 8, no. 4 (July-August 1994), National Trust for Historic
Preservation.
160
Eurocentric view of what sites are worthy of designation. This is a selective pattern that heritage
conservation theorist Sybille Frank regards as the intrinsic “nationalization of bourgeois property
as heritage.”
359
By emphasizing a site’s physical prestige and prominence, the heritage industry
has created a detrimental framework for nomination that underscores exclusion and
discrimination, especially toward racialized or social groups who’s heritage sites fail to meet the
traditional evaluative criteria to retain historic significance due to a lack of architectural integrity.
As Dyen and Muller point out:
…the properties of a more inclusive history seem to be especially vulnerable to the
processes of land use change in a capitalistic society. Properties of less-advantaged social
groups and those with declining activity due to economic disinvestment, for example,
frequently experience land use turnover and serous alteration or even obliteration. Are
such properties no longer worth recognition despite their historical significance?
360
The issue of integrity is compounded by the fact that many communities do not have the
financial and bureaucratic resources needed to maintain historic sites per the requirements set
forth by the Standards, and so have a difficult time obtaining government protection. As heritage
scholar Jackson Loop explains, “this leaves certain stories and their potential for memory work
completely unrecognized, or worse, erased.”
361
Thankfully, problems with the current
nomination framework have surfaced in recent years as the disproportionate number of high-
style buildings listed on the National and local registers have illuminated the fact that
government methods are failing to protect underrepresented heritage sites that convey meaning
in other ways besides their architecture.
362
As a result, more heritage professionals are
recognizing and advocating for an expanded definition of integrity, one that places more
emphasis on intangible aspects of heritage like feeling and association that better represent the
359
Sybille Frank, Wall Memorials and Heritage: The Heritage Industry of Berlin’s Checkpoint Charlie (London:
Routledge, 2016): 23-31.
360
Dyen and Muller, “Conserving the Heritage,” 1994.
361
Jackson Loop, “It’s important to remember what started it”: Conserving Sites and Stories of Racial Violence in
Los Angeles, 1943-1992,” (Master’s thesis, University of Southern California, 2020), 9.
362
The NPS reported in 2010 that only eight percent of the 86,000 listings on the National Register for Historic
Places were associated with people of color or women, a shockingly low number of sites representing two of many
underrecognized groups in the United States that helped galvanize the movement toward increased inclusivity in the
heritage field. Stephanie Meeks, “A More Perfect Union: Towards a More Inclusive History, and a Preservation
Movement That Looks Like America,” National Trust for Historic Preservation, Hampton University, March 30,
2015.
161
historic significance of these important places. Despite these efforts, there is still much to be
done to move the needle in the right direction.
363
The Allen-White School campus presents one opportunity for the heritage field to
overlook architectural preeminence and instead focus on its intangible significance as a place of
meaning for the Black community in Whiteville. Prior to the 2012 arson, Dorris Hall retained
enough integrity of design and materials to secure its place on the National and Tennessee
Registers. At the time of nomination in 2005, the 1964 elementary school building was regarded
as a non-contributor and therefore was not designated.
364
After the fire reduced Dorris Hall to a
ruin, the original Rosenwald building lost a significant amount of architectural integrity, so much
so that had it been nominated for the NR after the tragic attack, the building would likely have
failed to secure protection based on the current nomination criteria. But as critics of the integrity
requirement have noted, this does not diminish AW’s cultural significance and the sense of place
it creates for former students, teachers, and families of Hardeman County’s first Black
consolidated public school.
Even though the original building has lost integrity, AW’s campus is still deserving of
conservation, especially at a time when the local community is mobilized and ready to break the
intellectual and political barriers of conservation that so often exclude underrecognized heritage
sites from designation and protection.
365
Furthermore, the community deserves the opportunity to
maintain a symbiotic relationship with the campus, instead of one that is frozen in time based on
a set of “character-defining features” outlined at a particular moment in time when Dorris Hall
was originally designated.
366
With support from state and local legislators as well as capital
investment from partnering organizations, ECHO will certainly be able to conserve the Allen-
363
Dyen and Muller, “Conserving the Heritage,” 1994; Tyler et al., Historic Preservation, 327-328.
364
West, “Allen-White School,” section 7, page 1. The choice not to nominate the 1964 elementary school building
in 2005 was likely due to its failure to meet the “fifty year rule,” an SOI Standard under criterion G that requires
properties to be at least fifty years in age to be nominated, unless they are otherwise “exceptionally important.” At
the time of writing, the building has now surpassed fifty years, and would likely be eligible for nomination. For
more information about the fifty year rule see: National Register Bulletin 15: How to Apply the National Register
Criteria for Evaluation (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of the Interior, 1990 (rev. 1991, 1995, 1997, 2001,
2002)): 41-43.
365
For more information on the intellectual barriers and other obstacles created by the heritage industry that bar
underrepresented communities from obtaining designation, the work of heritage scholar Jackson Loop has proven
exceptionally insightful: Jackson Loop, “It’s important to remember what started it”: Conserving Sites and Stories of
Racial Violence in Los Angeles, 1943-1992,” (Master’s thesis, University of Southern California, 2020).
366
Max Page, Why Preservation Matters (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016): 33-40, quoted in Loop, “It’s
important,” 10.
162
White School however they best see fit for the campus landscape and the community’s needs,
regardless of which SOI treatment option they ultimately choose. But there are other avenues for
conserving the School’s intangible heritage that the community should consider while the
reconstruction project remains ongoing. The following section outlines the broader context of the
changing heritage discourse, and gives examples of other methodologies the AW community can
use to represent collective memory in ways that architectural conservation cannot.
Alternative Approaches to Protect Intangible Heritage
The Production of Space and an Expanded Heritage Discourse
The rising debates over authenticity and integrity lead to a greater conversation emerging
in the heritage industry about what really defines historic significance, and how the relationship
between people, space, and place contribute to a site’s importance. Centered around intangible
heritage, the discussion prompts conservation professionals, architects, and advocates of the built
environment to think beyond the physical space of architecture and instead about the relationship
between people and their attachment to place based on memory and feeling. The push for an
expanded dialogue has predominately been led by heritage, planning, and anthropology scholars
Setha Low, Laurajane Smith, Dolores Hayden, David Lowenthal, and a few others. Their
growing body of work seeks to criticizes traditional methods of heritage conservation when it
comes to handling the histories of social and racialized groups that have been overlooked by the
field’s current construct. Ultimately, their goal is to establish a new and enlarged framework for
the practice, one that no longer represents a selective memory of the past that often avoids these
groups entirely.
Anthropologist Setha Low calls the relationship between each of these factors—people,
space, and place—the “social construction” of space and place, which is defined by “the
transformations and contestations that occur through peoples’ social interactions, memories,
feelings, imaginings, and daily use—or lack thereof—that are made into places, scenes, and
action that convey particular meanings.” For example, during their time at the Allen-White
School campus, community members “socially construct[ed]” and communicated local meanings
through symbolic cultural forms and practices such as music (i.e., chorus concerts, the minstrel
show), dance, sports, food (pies struts and picnics), religion, clubs, and other recreational
activities. The spatial appropriation between the place that is AW’s campus and a group of Black
163
community members that were unwelcomed elsewhere in Hardeman County “create[d]
unexpected forms of placemaking and inscriptions of meaning” that are inherently imbedded in
the School community’s intangible cultural heritage.
367
But the “meanings” created by one or
many combinations of these factors are not conveyed equitably in modern society, as this paper
has detailed with regard to aspects of the tangible built environment like authenticity and
integrity. The problem of ignoring underrepresented histories and even erasing them exists
within the social construct of intangible heritage as well, as the current framework almost always
yields biases, prejudices, and inequalities predicated on power relations embedded in race, class,
and gender.
368
Heritage critic Laurajane Smith analyzes these power imbalances in her book Uses of
Heritage, citing expertise and exclusivity as motivators for the westernized approach to heritage
conservation. Like Low, Smith regards the relationship between people and places a
“construction” of social “values and understandings,” which ultimately make up the idea of
heritage as a “cultural practice.” The “practice” is thus dictated by what she describes as the
“authorized heritage discourse” or AHD, a “hegemonic” rhetoric formulated by the West that
“naturalizes certain narratives and cultural and social experiences” most often “linked to and
defined by the concepts of monumentality and aesthetics.” Since its inception as a field of study,
the “construction” of heritage has inherently omitted the intangible collective memory of
underrepresented populations based on its own design.
369
Thus, the narrow scope of the AHD
contributes to “othering,” a process by which the heritage of underrecognized communities is
placed in binary opposition to that of mainstream society. This “either and or” approach, as
described by heritage theorist Sybille Frank, forces underrecognized groups to assimilate, or
excludes them from the discourse entirely.
370
David Lowenthal—a forefather of heritage
studies—challenges the existing dichotomy with his assertion that regardless of social,
economic, political, or ethnic factors, “people the world over refer to aspects of their heritage in
the same way.”
371
367
Setha Low, Spatializing Culture: The Ethnography of Space and Place (London: Routledge, 2017): 69-70.
368
Low, Spatializing Culture, 68-69.
369
Laurajane Smith, Uses of Heritage (London: Routledge, 2006), 4, 11-12, 36, 61-62, 110.
370
Frank, Wall Memorials, 73.
371
David Lowenthal, Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History (New York: Free
Press, 1996) 44.
164
Smith argues that moving forward, heritage professionals must work to expand the AHD
to eradicate “otherness” and be more inclusive of underrepresented communities who find
themselves “[placed] outside of it.” Recognizing its governing authority in the field of heritage
studies and management, she writes that “the AHD as a source of political power has the ability
to facilitate the marginalization of groups who cannot make successful appeals to or control the
expression of master cultural or social narratives” based on the expertise currently required by
the field to obtain heritage recognition and protection. Furthermore, Smith disputes the whole
idea of an “assimilationist and top-down” approach to heritage, where professionals are
encouraged to recruit underrepresented communities into existing practices. Instead, a “bottom-
up” approach would better challenge underlying preconceptions and power relations within the
heritage field through community negotiation and involvement in decision making processes.
372
Urban and heritage theorist Delores Hayden echoes this sentiment in her landmark book
The Power of Place, where she asserts that fluid communication is key among local
communities, practitioners, scholars, planners, architects, and others involved in heritage projects
to recover aspects of intangible public memory, especially for underrecognized groups. Her
thoughts center around the “power of place,” which represents the intrinsic connection between
public space within ordinary landscapes and the collective memories that comprise a
community’s “politics of identity.” Although Hayden’s work is focused on the relationship
between space, place, and people in urban environments, her ideas are easily translated to
represent those living in rural landscapes as well, who similarly foster a sense of “place
attachment” based on social relationships that are “intertwined” with spatial perception.
The Allen-White campus, for example, represents a rural “working landscape,” spaces
that Hayden describes are shaped for both economic production and social reproduction. In
AW’s case, a county training school campus with spaces specifically designed to create
industrial job opportunities for working class citizens (i.e., the trade department shop and the
agriculture fields), and that includes social spaces like housing, a chapel, and recreational
facilities too. Working landscapes like Allen-White’s have scarcely been examined by the
heritage field because of their relationship with underrecognized working class groups, and
372
Smith, Uses of Heritage, 37-38, 192.
165
therefore offer an opportunity for conservationists to make meaningful associations between the
social history and production of space in these understudied places.
373
The efforts to conserve Allen-White’s campus represent the expanding nature of the
AHD bolstered by each of these heritage critics, one that creates an even playing field between
heritage professionals and the constituent community with a “bottom-up” grassroots approach.
When ECHO first sought professional conservation advice, the community had already begun
organizing to raise funds for Dorris Hall’s reconstruction. Moreover, according to architectural
historian Carroll Van West, MTSU’S Center for Historic Preservation approaches every project
from the local perspective by offering pro bono work “that allows the community to control the
project at every step.”
374
According to Jackson Loop, progressive heritage projects such as the
one ongoing in Whiteville allow underrecognized communities to “circumnavigate the problems
of expertise and exclusion” embedded within the AHD, which “can help in fights for social and
spatial justice.”
375
This is especially true of intangible cultural heritage, which is just as, if not more
important than conserving tangible architectural assets to create a long-lasting historic record for
sites like Allen-White that fall outside of the traditional AHD.
376
Although the discourse is
shifting more and more to include non-mainstream narratives, there will always be those that are
too “politically charged or shameful” for governments to support or expose, such as enslavement
and the subsequent racialized discrimination and hostility southern Black communities
experienced during the Jim Crow and Civil Rights Eras that the American government still fails
to fully acknowledge from the victims’ perspective today. Therefore, the AW community should
continue to take control of protecting their own intangible heritage in addition to the School’s
built environment, especially after the campus lost a significant amount of structural integrity as
a result of the last arson attack in 2012. Doing so would immortalize the story of the Allen-White
School—in all its layers of success, pride, conflict, and resilience—while at the same time help
reshape the AHD by breaking the status quo of an expert controlled heritage process in favor of a
community-led approach.
377
But for unrecognized histories to be refocused at the center of the
373
Dolores Hayden, The Power of Place: Urban Landscapes as Public History (Cambridge, Mass: The
Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 1995), 7-9, 15-16, 20-22.
374
Carroll Van West, email message to author, December 8, 2022.
375
Loop, “It’s important,” 11-12, 14.
376
Smith, Uses of Heritage, 264-265.
377
Loop, “It’s important,” 11-12, 14.
166
heritage dialogue, “it is necessary to explore alternative and new methods of understanding oral
and ritual models of cultural transmission, in addition to thinking more about interactions,” as
Frank implores. This shift will inevitably help the field come to an “as well as” conceptualization
of heritage, rather than the traditional “either and or” binary approach.
378
Some of these useful
methods for conserving intangible heritage, both qualitative and digital, are outlined below.
Qualitative Methods for Heritage Conservation
Like others housed within the social sciences, the heritage field has long been dominated
by research methods that quantify people and places based on their numeric or descriptive value.
Quantitative research methods like surveys and ranking systems that are based on variables and
established criterion—like that of the National Register nomination process—provide a
fundamental framework to inform conservationists and help them make exacting decisions about
the tangible built environment based on findings represented in the data. For example, in 2005,
the City of Los Angeles began a citywide survey of 880,000 legal parcels in partnership with the
Getty Foundation to protect and enhance its valuable historic resources. SurveyLA, as the project
is known, was a decade-long undertaking and ultimately created the most comprehensive urban
historic resources survey in the United States. The findings of SurveyLA have since informed
planners, historians, and heritage professionals of significant architectural details and historic
contexts unique to Los Angeles based on numeric and descriptive data points collected during
the survey.
Spatial data and statistical analysis like those used in SurveyLA are certainly important
factors to expand the AHD. Heritage scholars Brent Leggs, Jenna Dublin, and Michael Power
point out their ability to “highlight opportunities for preservationists to address racial disparities
in historic designation and reimagine preservation practice as a force supporting strong
communities rich with culture and opportunity.”
379
But while quantitative processes like
378
Frank, Wall Memorials, pg. 73.
379
Brent Leggs, Jenna Dublin, and Michael Power, “Telling the Full American Story: Insights from the African
American Cultural Heritage Action Fund,” in Erica Avrami ed., Preservation and Social Inclusion (New York:
Columbia Books on Architecture and the City, 2020).
167
SurveyLA provide necessary input to conserve important historic resources, they do little to
protect intangible heritages that are less adept to exact measurement.
380
To truly shift away from westernized exclusivity and expand the AHD, heritage
professionals must broaden their research methods for determining a site’s historic significance
and designation status to also include qualitative data collection methods for intangible heritage.
Qualitative research, as defined by research theorists Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln,
is a “situated activity that locates the observer in the world.” Instead of numbers and variables, it
consists of a set of “interpretive, material practices that make the world visible….by attempting
to make sense of phenomena in terms of the meanings people bring to them.” Unlike quantitative
data collection, qualitative research centers on the use of empirical materials to interpret the
world and its connection to people. “Case studies, personal experience, introspection, life story,
interview, artifacts, cultural texts and productions” as well as “field notes, conversations,
photographs, recordings, performances, and memos” are all means by which researchers can
“turn the world into a series of representations” across historical fields.
381
This is certainly true of the heritage conservation field, where qualitative research
methods are especially useful in representing underrecognized or forgotten heritage. Empirical
materials such as those listed above are invaluable tools to help these communities promote their
identity politics and collective memories that can only be conveyed intangibly. Moreover,
qualitative research methods have the ability to shed light on concepts of equity and social
justice in the broader contexts of public history and urban planning that numeric values simply
cannot convey on an emotional level. Several different types of qualitative materials were
collected and used to interpret the intangible place-based heritage of the Allen-White School
community during the research phase of this project, three of which are outlined below: oral
histories, ephemera, and mental maps. They represent only a few of many methods pertaining to
what heritage scholars Allison Arlotta and Erica Avrami call “memory work” that can be used to
380
Ken Bernstein and Janet Hansen, “Survey LA: Linking Historic Resources Surveys to Local Planning,” Journal
of the American Planning Association 82, no. 2 (February 2016): 88-91. A thorough analysis of quantitative data
methodologies used in the heritage unfortunately fall outside the scope of this project. However, the work of
Stephen D. Mikesell has proven useful in understanding the relationship between quantitative research and heritage
conservation in: Stephen D. Mikesell, “Historic Preservation That Counts: Quantitative Methods for Evaluating
Historic Resources,” The Public Historian 8, No. 4 (Autumn 1986): 61-74, accessed December 22, 2022,
https://www.jstor.org/stable/3377500.
381
Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln, The SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Research, Fifth Edition
(Thousand Oaks: SAGE Publications, Inc., 2018): 12, 43.
168
interpret and convey the intangible heritages of underrepresented communities whose stories fall
outside the current heritage discourse.
382
Perhaps the most effective qualitative research method to capture and express intangible
heritage is oral history interviews. Heritage practitioners and institutions are beginning to find
more value in long-form interviews with primary subjects to support claims of historic
significance during the nomination process, a move which represents the slowly shifting AHD
away from rigid criterion premised on objective, evidence-based chains of reasoning and instead
toward meaning-making and understanding place attachment based on narrative interpretation.
This is an ongoing movement, however, because it requires heritage professionals to gain trust in
the legitimacy of oral histories as supporting data, and to “concede some of the privilege gained
through the power/knowledge claims of expertise.”
383
But by accepting oral histories as viable source materials, heritage professionals have the
ability to shift existing historic narratives back to the perspective of less recognized populations.
According to heritage theorists Leggs, Dublin, and Power, first-hand knowledge expressed via
oral histories that are derived from people’s interactions with specific places and physical
landmarks “can challenge dominant narratives in terms of who is most entitled to occupy places
and who knows best what the future of the area should be.”
384
They have the power to create a
“shared authority” that gives agency back to underrepresented communities to define their own
public histories.
385
Therefore, because stories are documented and preserved as recordings or
written texts, oral histories are by default an act of heritage management and an incredibly useful
qualitative material that can be used to maintain difficult or underrecognized histories.
386
In 2004, photographer and historian Ann Smithwick embarked on a project to record the
images and narratives of former Rosenwald school students in her native West Tennessee.
Smithwick became inspired by the Rosenwald Fund’s rural schools program when in 1994 she
and her family made their home in a rehabilitated Rosenwald schoolhouse once known as the
Braden-Sinai School in Fayette County, which is situated just west of Hardeman County.
382
Allison Arlotta and Erica Avrami, “Preservation’s Engagement in Questions of Inclusion: A Literature Review,”
in Erica Avrami ed., Preservation and Social Inclusion (New York: Columbia Books on Architecture and the City,
2020).
383
Smith, Uses of Heritage, 284-285.
384
Leggs et. al, “Telling the Full American Story,” 2020; Arlotta and Avrami, “Preservation’s Engagement,” 2020.
385
Hayden, Power of Place, 48-49.
386
Smith, Uses of Heritage, 46.
169
Smithwick suddenly found herself surrounded by a vibrant local Black community in her new
rural neighborhood, where nostalgia for the school days was alive and thriving. “Many of our
neighbors were students and teachers at the school,” she recounts, “…they often dropped by and
shared their recollections with us. This schoolhouse was clearly an important part of their lives,
and they have sentimental memories of their days spent there.”
387
Smithwick recognized the need to record her neighbors’ intangible collective memories,
so she began to take their portraits and collect an oral history archive of interviews with each
subject. The project quickly expanded to other surrounding Rosenwald schools communities,
including that of the Allen-White School. By 2005, Smithwick had interviewed and
photographed approximately forty former Rosenwald students, twenty-six of whom attended
AW. (Figure 4.6, Figure 4.7) Their stories were exhibited as part of her project titled Rosenwald
Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders, which ran at the National Civil Rights Museum in
partnership with the Ford Foundation in Memphis, Tennessee in 2007. Notable guests included
Evelyn C. Robertson of the AW community, Rosenwald historian Mary S. Hoffschwelle of
MTSU, and writer Peter M. Ascoli, grandson of Julius Rosenwald.
388
According to Whiteville
leader Evelyn C. Robertson, the exposure helped motivate the local community to form ECHO
and take more active steps to conserve the School’s campus.
389
Figures 4.6 & 4.7: Portraits of Jesse Norment ’46 (left) and sisters Ruby ‘45 and Mabel ’40 Andrews ca. 2005,
photographed by Ann Smithwick. Courtesy of Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders
photography and oral history project.
387
Ann Smithwick, interviewed by the author, Memphis, Tennessee, December 20, 2022.
388
Ann Smithwick, “Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders,” various project materials, 2004-2006.
389
Evelyn C. Robertson, interviewed by the author, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 13, 2022.
170
In preparation for this thesis project, I was able to reconnect with the Allen-White
community and build upon Smithwick’s original collection of oral histories. Eight additional
accounts were recorded, all of which reflect the layered history of AW as both a championed
institution for Black education and a post-conflict site of conscience. Although the 2012 arson
attack added a new layer to AW’s history that was only captured in the more recent oral
histories, the stories of the School and its importance to the Whiteville community remained the
same almost two decades after the first group of students were interviewed. This phenomenon
represents the power of place-based collective memories to invoke a sense of cultural identity as
landscapes change over time, especially for underrepresented communities like Whiteville’s who
rely on intangible heritage rather than architectural sites to tell the story of place and embodied
space.
390
The predominant theme that emerged in oral history interviews with former AW students
in 2005 and 2022 was community pride. Students who graduated between 1942-1970 reflected
on campus facilities, programs, teachers and staff, and the School’s place in the greater
Hardeman County society with a sense of dignity and appreciation for its accomplishments at a
time when Black southerners were regarded as second class citizens. They had particularly fond
memories of social events like the annual Thanksgiving rally, field days, talent shows, and others
that took place in various spaces on campus. Of the annual field day festivities, Ernest Tisdale
’66 had fond memories:
Oh man, oh man. All the schools in the rural areas, Grand Junction, Hickory Valley,
Toone…all around, these little, small community schools, all of them would come to
Allen-White, and we’d have field day. And we’d have all the things…the sack thing,
wheel barrel races, high jump…I would go to bed the night before field day, and I’d be so
excited I could hardly sleep. [It] was a day that everybody came together…It was just
fun.
Almost all of the campus events included a fundraising component to support AW’s various
construction projects. Patricia Crisp, who was part of AW’s last graduating class in 1970,
recollected the omnipresent PTA fundraising efforts that became a tradition at the School’s
inception:
I can remember the PTA being a very active organization at the time, providing funds and
things for the children that otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten. And my grandmom and
390
Hayden, Power of Place, 15-17.
171
granddad were very active in that…If you worked in the PTA you competed against each
other in clubs every year, and they were competitive! If you were in the PTA, you wanted
to make sure you did something for the school. Like sometimes they had beauty pageants,
a white elephant sale, and things like that. Whatever the funds that were raised, they
always put back into the school to help the children.
391
Students also recollected classes held in AW’s education buildings and remembered socializing
in outdoor spaces. Those who attended Allen-White during the height of its fundraising years in
the 1940s and 1940s recounted the various buildings on campus and their memories of the spaces
constructed and embodied by students of the National Youth Organization (NYA). According to
former student and teacher Mabel Andrews ‘40, it was because of the NYA program that the
School “got to look like a little college.” Beatrice Spencer ’42 reminisced on her time working
for AW’s NYA program:
Each month we had a new duty list. Your job would change. And we would end up with
twelve dollars a month to go to school. We had a sandwich shop here, we had a dining
room. So I worked in the dining room and cooked for the teachers…Some waited tables,
some washed dishes, some worked in the laundry, some were doing the ironing for the
boys. It was just the girls. The boys, they were doing carpentry…Allen-White was just
booming…I still remember those days. I just learned so much.
Jesse Norment ’43 regarded the NYA years as the most “intriguing” part of attending Allen-
White because of his exposure to students from other parts of Tennessee and neighboring states.
“That kind of experience,” he summarized, “you can’t buy at a picture show.”
392
The relationship between the trade and agriculture department facilities and their students
became clear through the oral histories collected in each session as well. “We did a lot outside,”
remembered Johnny Shaw ’69, who currently serves as a State Assembly Member in the
Tennessee House of Representatives. “we always had to identify the tools we were going to use.
That was very important. We had to identify seeds, we had to identify certain kind of flowers and
plants and all those things.”
393
Similarly, Odell Greene reflected on the spaces he interacted with
as a student and how they were integrated into AW’s curriculum:
“…right behind the brick building was the agricultural building. [Classes were] upstairs on
the second floor. The apartment down below was the trade center, and to the right was a
391
Ernest Tisdale and Patricia Crisp, interviewed by Ann Smithwick November 11-22, 2005 in Whiteville,
Tennessee for the Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders photography and oral history project.
392
Mabel Andrews, Beatrice Spencer, Jesse Norment, interviewed by Ann Smithwick on November 7-22, 2005 in
Whiteville, Tennessee for the Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders photography and oral history project.
393
Johnny Shaw, interviewed by the author, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
172
storage center. So, we did things like build furniture, plant crops, hands on things…’applied
science.’ In fact, we had summer projects sometimes, I remember. Like you had an acre of
land that you took care of…you were required to make all the decisions…keep a record of
what you did on that land, and I enjoyed doing that because I wanted to be a farmer one
day.”
394
Overall, students spoke highly of AW’s outdoor spaces like the playgrounds and fields. Perhaps
more than anywhere else on campus, they represent the social construction of space for leisure
and recreation activities, and sometimes even served as temporary classrooms while other
buildings were under construction.
395
“I think lunch times were kind of special for me because I
got a chance to really gather with my friends who were not necessarily in the classroom with
me,” said Shaw in his 2022 interview, “and I can remember sitting on the steps at lunchtime
waiting for my friends to come from other classes and we would go out underneath the tree and
sit, especially on warm days, and have our lunch. You know, little picnic lunches.”
396
Female students also spoke highly of the industrial training spaces at Allen-White. They
particularly praised Mrs. Myrtle Robertson, AW’s longtime home economics teacher, and the
knowledge she imparted to them in campus spaces like the kitchen, laundry, and home
economics classrooms. “She was our home in the kitchen,” described Cosette Crawford ‘67,
“[she] said things that stuck with me there.” For example, remembering the sewing classes with
Mrs. Robertson, Hugholene Robertson ’54 recalled that:
She wouldn’t allow you to wear pins in your clothes. You had to sew it, or take it up, or fix it
where you wouldn’t need to wear pins in your clothes. Every time now that I’m going to put
a pin in something I’m going to wear, I think about her.
Edna Dotson ‘65 harkened back to the fun she had in Mrs. Robertson’s class, remembering
“One funny thing in her class…during the fall, when we would prepare preserves, we’d get to
sneak pears out of the classroom and give it to our friends. So I enjoyed home economics.”
Across almost all interviewees, “Cheek Hall is remembered as the centerpiece of the
Allen-White campus.”
397
The building complex—which included Agnes L. Tierney Hall and
394
Odell Greene, interviewed by the author, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
395
In his 2005 interview, Willie Jerry Rhodes recalls having first grade classes in the girls’ softball dugout in 1964
while the new elementary school building was still under construction. Willie Jerry Rhodes, interviewed by Ann
Smithwick on November 17, 2005 in Whiteville, Tennessee for the Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders
photography and oral history project.
396
Shaw interview, 2022.
397
Alfreeda Lake McKinney, “Allen-White School, 1930-1970,” Chronicle of Black History in Hardeman County,
Tennessee, Bolivar-Hardeman County Black History Committee, 1979, 5.
173
Gilbert Hall—consisted of a cafeteria, a library, a gymnasium that doubled as an auditorium, and
high school classrooms. Cheek Hall remained the largest building on campus until it burned in
1971. Collectively, students recalled the cafeteria being the campus’s central gathering point.
Several interviewees recollected the notorious meals prepared by dietician Pearl Robertson,
including Hugholene Robertson ’54, whose thoughts are reminiscent of the close-knit Black
community in Whiteville: “We ate at the cafeteria. My husband’s mother, Mrs. Pearl Robertson,
was the main cook at the cafeteria. They really served delicious meals; the food was so delicious.
She was a really good cook.” Others underscored the value of a hot meal at school, which was
seen as a luxury to many of the lesser income students from sharecropping families:
…lunch was twenty-five cents…we were so poor, sometimes we couldn’t afford the twenty-five
cents for lunch, so we had to bring peanut butter crackers. But then somewhere down the line I
was able to get a job at the cafeteria because if you worked in the cafeteria, you got your lunch
free. It was good. We had good, planned meals, which was good. It was good for us, ‘cause I
would imagine back in those days, many children didn’t get a wholesome meal at home.
Cleaster Sain ’65
The library in Cheek Hall was also important to the students’ construction of space on
campus and its connection to their identities as students, especially those who sought to learn
outside of the classroom or continue their studies at the collegiate level after graduating AW.
Ocie Holmes ’63 remembered spending free time in the library with friends:
We would go to the library, but you know you have to be really quiet…Mrs. Pratt was the
librarian. She was the greatest. She taught us about Black History Month...[She] is the
one who would bring us all the pictures and tell us about the heritage and just make sure
we knew our culture. She was a great librarian.
398
Charles Johnson ’65 also spent a great deal of time in the library:
…because the librarian would have all of the latest publications from the newspaper to
magazines, and there would be classes there, but there would be an area whereby you
could check out a book on current events. And that was important to me at that time.
399
A particular point of community pride among former Allen-White students was the
School’s athletic program, which took place in the Cheek Hall gymnasium beginning in 1948.
The gym was almost every subject’s favorite place on campus because it was home to the Allen-
White Bears basketball teams, which was the most popular sports team on campus. According to
398
Hugholene Robertson and Cleaster Sain interviews, 2005; Ocie Holmes, interviewed by the author, Whiteville,
Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
399
Charles Johnson, interviewed by the author, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
174
Odell Greene, it had a regulation sized floor, bleachers, men and women’s locker rooms, a stage
for performances, and dressing rooms. In his 2005 interview, Jesse Rhodes ’55 reflected on the
sense of pride he felt in the basketball teams:
The basketball team used to win state championships and all that. The state
championships were held at Tennessee State University. And when I was a student [at
Allen-White], they put these banners up for the state tournament [in the gym], you know,
and I would see Allen-White up there saying we won it for several years. So, I would tell
other kids from the feeder schools that that was my school. I went there!
400
Only a few students that were interviewed in 2005 and 2022 attended Allen-White from
elementary school all the way through high school. But of this small group, former students
remembered the chapel services and choral concerts that took place in the 1964 elementary
school building, as well as the entry way, cloakrooms, and the stoves and small wood furniture
for the children in each classroom.
401
Lois Harris ’63 remembered being “a little bit naughty,” in
the halls of the elementary school, where, in her younger years at Allen-White, she would run
down the building’s long central corridor, turn the lights off, and then hide from teachers.
402
One unexpected finding in all of the oral histories collected is that difficult themes like
segregation, otherness, conflict, and resilience barely emerged in the students’ stories. Both
interviewers purposely left the questions open-ended so as not to lead subjects toward specific
answers, so it is notable that these topics were hardly brought up. These themes are widely
documented in written histories of the Allen-White School, primarily from the perspectives of
Principal James H. White and the PTA, who likely encountered more overt instances of
racialized discrimination and hostility regarding the cause for Black education during the early
years of the School’s history than the sample of students interviewed in 2005 and 2022. It is
possible that difficult topics were avoided because both interviewers are White, which, as oral
history researcher Jan L. Peterson notes, can sometimes create an unintended “societal barrier”
or “dominant paradigm” during the interview process involving subjects of a different racialized
400
Green interview, 2022; Jesse Rhodes interview, 2005. Prior to 1948, the athletics department was housed in the
shared auditorium space in Dorris Hall.
401
Georgia Crowder, Jesse Rhodes, and Fredell Harris, interviewed by Ann Smithwick between November 7-29,
2005 in Whiteville, Tennessee for the Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders photography and oral history
project.
402
Lois Harris, interviewed by Ann Smithwick between November 7, 2005 in Whiteville, Tennessee for the
Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders photography and oral history project.
175
group, such as the Black community in Whiteville.
403
But for both Ann Smithwick and myself, if
felt as if there was no communication blockade causing discomfort for the interviewees at Allen-
White, but rather a sheer feeling of excitement and pride when given the opportunity to talk
about their school days.
404
A few students drew comparisons between the neighboring White schools and AW, citing the
difference in quality of materials and resources. For example, several students mentioned that
busses only ran for White students, so they often had to walk long distances to get to AW’s
campus. But as Loyce Shockley ’49 described, walking to school presented another opportunity
for students to socialize: “It was fun walking when we were kids…My friends, we would all go
down that road together…and we used to shoot marbles and skip rope and things like that.”
Patricia Crisp ‘70 remembered getting second-hand books from the White students at Whiteville
High School, “…but it didn’t matter you know. A verb is a verb.”
405
A few other students touched on inequities they experienced that resulted from the system of
White supremacy, but most of these stories took place at home. For example, some described
their appreciation for the hot lunches at school because their families were unable to afford well-
cooked meals at home. Other students discussed their responsibilities as children of
sharecroppers and expressed their feelings of dismay and sadness over having to leave school in
the fall and spring to help their families with the cotton harvest.
406
Former student and teacher
Jesse Norment ’43 recollected memories of friends who missed a considerable amount of class
each term and often fell behind because they had to work to help their families raise money to
pay school fees. “Those were not the good days for Blacks,” he concluded.
407
But despite the fact
that lesser income students often struggled at home, they felt supported at school. The teachers
“made you feel so loved,” said Hugholene Robertson ’54. Juanita Morrow (graduation date
unknown) credited her time at AW for the confidence it instilled within her: “The foundation I
403
Jan L. Peterson, “The Intersection of Oral History and the Role of White Researchers in Cross-Cultural
Contexts,” Educational Foundations 22, no. 3-4, (Summer-Fall 2008), 41-45.
404
Conversation between the author and Ann Smithwick, December 22, 2022.
405
Loyce Shockley and Patricia Crisp, interviewed by Ann Smithwick on November 7-19, 2005 in Whiteville,
Tennessee for the Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders photography and oral history project.
406
Cleaster Sain, Edna Dotson, Glenn Dotson, and Ernest Tisdale, interviewed by Ann Smithwick between
November 7-29, 2005 in Whiteville, Tennessee for the Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders photography
and oral history project; Charles Johnson, Johnny Shaw, Odell Greene, and George Dotson, interviewed by the
author, October 14, 2022.
407
Jesse Norment, interviewed by Ann Smithwick on November 7, 2005 in Whiteville, Tennessee for the Rosenwald
Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders photography and oral history project.
176
got here helped me make it through all the trials and tribulations I’ve gone through in life.”
408
These responses clearly indicate that Allen-White’s campus was a safe space for students not
only to get an education and partake in social activities, but to avoid the difficulties they faced at
home and in other public spaces. Although most of the students’ recollections did not overtly
confront themes of otherness, they unfortunately demonstrate the normalization of racialized
inequity and economic suppression caused by White supremacy in the South during the Jim
Crow and Civil Rights Eras.
Some students addressed segregation more directly, specifically the fear, anxiety, and
discomfort they felt over the process of integration, which “rolled through in about 1970”
according to Ruby Andrews ’45. Students worried about the way they would be treated by their
White classmates and were concerned about losing friends and the sense of community they had
constructed at Allen-White. Ultimately, most students recognized the benefits of integration, as
Andrews recounts: “…it helped us, but it wasn’t easy. They had to learn us and we had to learn
them.”
409
The underlying themes of conflict and resilience that have permeated AW’s history
were almost entirely unconveyed throughout the interviews, and the campus’ multiple arson
attacks were only mentioned by a few subjects in 2022 when I asked about them directly. “When
they told me about it,” said Fredell Harris ’66, “I just broke down. I just couldn’t see that
happening to the school where people were so close.”
410
Instead, the subjects interviewed more
recently focused their responses to questions about the arson attacks on the community’s
motivation to reconstruct and rehabilitate the extant campus buildings for use as a community
and museum space. “We want to preserve [Allen-White] because we want to leave a legacy for
others,” said Ocie Holmes ’63, “that school meant so much to everyone, to all of us, and I just
hope I’ll be living to see it materialize.”
411
Unfortunately, none of the students whose stories were collected had memories pertaining
specifically to the original 1920 Rosenwald building Dorris Hall, beyond recognizing its
408
Cleaster Sain, Edna Dotson, Glenn Dotson, and Ernest Tisdale, interviewed by Ann Smithwick between
November 7-29, 2005 in Whiteville, Tennessee for the Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders photography
and oral history project; Charles Johnson, Johnny Shaw, Odell Greene, and George Dotson, interviewed by the
author, October 14, 2022.
409
Johnny Shaw interview, 2022; Ruby Andrews, Jesse Rhodes, and Glenn Dotson, interviewed by Ann Smithwick
between November 7-29, 2005 in Whiteville, Tennessee for the Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders
photography and oral history project.
410
Fredell Harris interview, 2022.
411
Ocie Holmes interview, 2022.
177
existence as an administrative or storage space on campus. This is likely because most of the
students that were interviewed by Smithwick and me attended Allen-White after Dorris Hall
stopped being used as a primary education building on campus sometime during the 1940s.
Unfortunately, very few students survive who attended school at AW when Dorris Hall still
operated as the elementary school building. Perhaps Jesse Norment ’43 put it most succinctly:
“The people who lived it, well there’s so few of us now.”
412
The problem of an aging AW community underscores the importance of managing heritage
over time by recording intangible cultural memories to tell a comprehensive story of place. This
is now especially true in Whiteville, as the stories that convey the relationship between space,
place, and people in the early years of AW’s history remain critically at risk of erasure.
As is demonstrated in the oral histories recorded, Allen-White’s campus derives so much
meaning from stories told by the community members who are best equipped to express its
intangible cultural significance. Their accounts are important not only to claim and communicate
the history of AW, but to conserve collective memories of the greater Rosenwald School context
as well. Small, local repositories of oral history archives like the one in Whiteville “tend to
address much smaller audiences as intimate performances of cultural continuity and identity
creation.”
413
In this case, the narratives collected in Hardeman County help create an invaluable
network of qualitative materials among Rosenwald communities that tell the story of Black
education across the American South. Moreover, oral histories have the power to communicate
details about the built environment to help constituent communities and heritage professionals
infer the historic significance and cultural meaning of places that either no longer exist or no
longer retain their physical integrity, such as Allen-White.
414
Local leader Evelyn C. Robertson
‘59 recognizes the importance of oral histories and other qualitative methods to conserve AW’s
intangible heritage. In his 2005 interview with Ann Smithwick, he pointed out that:
Today, this may not be that important to us. But—in twenty-five years, fifty years, sixty
years from now—this going to be very significant, you know? To know that “so-and-so”
went to school here. And this is who they are, and this is what their take on things [was] at
that particular point. So, I see this as being something there for the future.
415
412
Jesse Norment interview, 2005.
413
Smith, Uses of Heritage, 109.
414
Arlotta and Avrami, “Preservation’s Engagement,” 2020.
415
Evelyn C. Robertson, interviewed by Ann Smithwick on November 17, 2005 in Whiteville, Tennessee for the
Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom From the Elders photography and oral history project.
178
Ephemera is another excellent qualitative material that helps amplify cultural assets and
convey the intangible meaning of place and its relationship to underrepresented populations.
Ephemera was once simply defined as all types of written or printed memorabilia (i.e., letters,
post cards, tickets, menus, manuscripts, magazines, etc.), “stuff” with an “ephemeral existence,”
meaning it was never intended to be saved or preserved. But the term has attained academic
credibility in recent years, resulting in part from collectors, curators, and heritage professionals
who recognize its ability to document “average, everyday life” through the archiving process.
The term ephemera has broadened to now house many categories of “stuff,” everyday items like
photographs, prints, drawings, coins and currency, as well as other material objects like toys,
clothes, matchbooks, and food containers. Similar to oral histories, local collections of ephemera
are capable of giving context to support and inform collective memories and architectural
features that connect people, space, and place.
416
Like other Rosenwald communities, Allen-White’s is rich with household collections of
ephemera. During the research process, I was able to fill gaps in my knowledge simply by
looking through former students’ family photographs, volumes of The Allen-White Mirror
yearbook, copies of the Allen-White Voice school newspaper, letters and pamphlets from
Principal White and the PTA, and other items saved from their time at AW. Christine Rhodes ’48
written personal account proved particularly valuable in helping me discern Dorris Hall’s spatial
relationship to the School community because it contained a list of the building’s physical
features on both the interior and exterior, as well as a few floorplans she drew of the building. Of
its interior, she wrote:
Auditorium/Study Hall used mainly by High School Dept.; Portable stage used or programs
at end of school year and other special programs; Coal-burning stove furnished heating; Four
light fixtures with white opaque globes suspended from the ceiling providing lighting; One
cloakroom was provided for high school students; Wood tables and chairs were used for
seating; Oiled push brooms were used to sweep the wood floors to keep dust from
scattering…
417
(Figure 4.8)
416
“Ephemera Collection—A Growing Field, Hard to Define,” The Ephemera Society of America, accessed
December 23, 2022, https://www.ephemerasociety.org/ephemera-collecting-a-growing-field-hard-to-define; Anne
Garner, “Throwaway History: Towards Historiography of Ephemera,” State of the Discipline 24, no. 1 (2021), 244-
263.
417
Christine Rhodes, personal account of the Allen-White School, date unknown. See Appendix B for a copy of the
document. Courtesy of the Southern Places Digital Collection, Center for Historic Preservation, James E. Walker
Library, Middle Tennessee State University.
179
Figure 4.8: Plan of Dorris Hall, drawn by Christine Rhodes, ca. 2000-2010. Courtesy of the Middle Tennessee State
University Center for Historic Preservation, Digital Initiatives, James E. Walker Library, Middle Tennessee State
University.
180
In his 2005 interview, Fredell Harris ’66 reminisced on his baseball days at AW, stating that “I
still have my high school warmups. And I still have my high school baseball socks. I have them
folded up in my drawer and my wife knows they’re very dear to me.” (Figure 4.9) In 2022, he
proudly discussed the whereabouts of AW graduates using a 2012 chart he made titled “Allen-
White School Transcends the USA,” which visually depicts the geographic mobility of the
School’s former students:
…we have lawyers and doctors all over the state [and country] right there that come from
right here in Whiteville, attended Allen-White High School right here. That goes to show you
if you work hard, you’re dedicated and be obedient right there, you can accomplish whatever
you want to accomplish.
418
(Figure 4.10)
Figure 4.9: Portrait of Fredell Harris ’66 with his Allen-White warmups, ca. 2005, photographed by Ann Smithwick.
Courtesy of Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders photography and oral history project.
418
Fredell Harris interviews, 2005 and 2022.
181
Figure 4.10: Video interview still of Fredell Harris ’66 with his chart titled “Allen-White School Transcends the
USA,” ca. 2022. Photo by the author, October 2022.
Evelyn C. Robertson’s yearbook and school newspaper collections were also very insightful
for my research, which contained a plethora of historic photographs from his time at AW in the
1950s-1960s. They depicted group portraits of student organizations, social events, and athletic
teams, as well as shots of the School’s buildings and classrooms. His newspaper collection
included articles about various construction projects on campus and fundraising updates, which
helped me organize he linear timeline of AW’s history attached in Appendix A. Page excerpts
from the yearbooks contained lyrics to the school song, information about teachers and staff
members, and mementos that illustrated the day to day happenings on AW’s campus. The
yearbooks helped inform my understanding of where buildings were situated on campus, and
how students used specific spaces for learning and leisure activities.
419
Lastly, Ann Smithwick’s
portrait photographs from her 2005 Rosenwald Revisited project provided visual representation
of the students interviewed for my own research, and for future generations to remember.
420
Local collections of ephemera such as the ones mentioned above allow underrepresented
communities like Allen-White’s to center and foreground their heritage and convey their own
419
Evelyn Robertson, personal collection of Allen-White ephemera, accessed October 13, 2022.
420
For more photographs from Ann Smithwick’s Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders project, see
Appendix D.
182
intangible histories with primary source materials, a collaborative process that “democratizes
access” and defines ownership by “allow[ing] participants to see themselves in the historical
record,” rather than as filtered subjects from the perspective of heritage professionals.
421
A third type of qualitative data that was critical to my research for this project were mental
maps. They were first used by urban planner and theorist Kevin Lynch, who studied the way
people structure their sense of place and spatial orientation in urban environments by asking
subjects to draw maps based on familiar physical environments. Also known as cognitive maps,
these data provide fabricated illustrations of architectural elements that were most recognized or
remembered by the people he surveyed.
422
“[Mental maps are] a useful tool for representing
people’s real-life worlds,” according to heritage management theorists Maria Younghee Lee,
Michael Hitchcock & Joyce Wengsi Lei, “because [they] can help to reveal people’s memories,
experiences, and associations” with specific places, based on their ability to “draw detailed
mental maps of familiar places and omit unfamiliar places.”
423
In his research, Lynch was
primarily focused on the construct of urban form, and used mental mappings to decipher how
best to plan cities for the human experience.
424
But for the purpose of this thesis, I was able to
translate his cognitive mapping method into Whiteville’s rural environment by asking the 2022
interview subjects to draw AW’s buildings from memory on a simple map template I created of
the campus, which was based on aerial photographs from 1946 and 1952 and my knowledge of
the spatial construct of the campus today.
425
(Figure 4.11)
421
Lindsay Mulcahy, “Conservation ‘On the Natch’: Maintenance and Remembrance at the Alcoholism Center for
Women,” (Master’s thesis, University of Southern California, 2022), 74; Loop, “It’s important,” 10.
422
Kevin Lynch, The Image of the City (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1960).
423
Maria Younghee Lee, Michael Hitchcock & Joyce Wengsi Lei, “Mental Mapping and Heritage Visitors’ Spatial
Perceptions,” Journal of Heritage Tourism 13 no. 4, (2018): 306.
424
Lynch, The Image, 1960.
425
See Appendix C for the mental maps created by former AW students in 2022.
183
Figure 4.11: Mental map drawn by Fredell Harris ’66 in 2022.
184
Experiments like this are becoming more common in the heritage field as practitioners work
to expand the AHD to be more inclusive of underrecognized heritages. As a viable form of
qualitative data collection in the social sciences, mental maps aid in understanding both a place’s
tangible built environment, as well as the community’s intangible heritage associated with or
attached to it.
426
For example, through the maps created by AW’s former students, I was able to
get a better sense of where and when certain buildings were situated on campus, and also gain an
understanding of which areas and activities were most valued on campus and to the general
school community based on the spaces students repeatedly drew on their maps. Like the oral
history interviews, the mental maps suggest that Cheek Hall’s cafeteria and gymnasium were the
most important constructed social spaces on campus, along with the ball fields and outdoor
recreational spaces.
Oral histories, ephemera, and mental maps are just three of many forms of qualitative
data that can highlight the intangible heritage of communities whose significant places no longer
retain architectural integrity or authenticity as defined by the current Standards. Moreover, they
are tools that should be implemented by local communities and heritage professionals alike to
eliminate western-centric conservation practices and expand the AHD. Underrepresented
communities like Allen-White’s should continue to adopt qualitative data collection methods
alongside traditional quantitative methods because they are often inexpensive by comparison,
and easier to access or achieve through grassroots organizing, which can expedite protection
during the conservation process.
This is especially important for communities who are critically at risk of losing
significant tangible and intangible heritage, as is the case with AW’s Dorris Hall building which
was reduced to a ruin after the 2012 arson and has a dwindling population of students who
utilized the building still alive to relay its meaning. The bi-annual Allen-White reunion offers a
great opportunity for the community to collect and record oral histories and make mental maps
for future exhibitions and to support ECHO’s fundraising efforts. Adding other ephemeral
materials like obituaries, newspaper articles, and reunion programs to the local archive will also
help the Whiteville community reclaim agency over their own history. These types of qualitative
426
Claudia Guerra, interviewed by Erica Avrami, “Finding the Soul of Communities,” in Erica Avrami ed.,
Preservation and Social Inclusion (New York: Columbia Books on Architecture and the City, 2020).
185
data are invaluable to communities like Allen-White’s, who must rely on collective memory to
tell the stories of their cherished places.
Digital Methods for Heritage Conservation
Like other interdisciplinary fields of history and social science, heritage conservation has
embraced the limitless potential of the internet and parallel emerging technologies in recent
years. Digital heritage, as its come to be known, offers conservationists and communities
opportunities to engage in locally driven, place-based storytelling processes that move beyond
traditional methods of conservation, which are typically confined to one’s ability to be physically
present on-site in order to engage with its history. Online conservation methods address the
“diversity-gap” described by heritage practitioner Michelle G. Magalong that exists in the field
by affording local communities more autonomy to engage in constructing their own social
histories through public participation, community-based archiving, and information-sharing.
427
Digital heritage also helps expand the AHD by providing increased access to users who are
unable to travel to a specific monument or landscape for various reasons (i.e., health, geographic
proximity, etc.), which ultimately brings more awareness and advocacy to traditionally
unacknowledged sites like Rosenwald schools. Digital heritage tools are often free and easy to
use for the public, include more contextual information than what’s available on-site, and allow
for a greater bandwidth of data to support local archives and their connections to one another.
428
For example, conservationists and historians in several states across the South are now working
together to digitize and connect local repositories of qualitative materials from various
Rosenwald School communities like Allen-White’s to illustrate the broader patterns of Black
education in America during the twentieth century.
429
Two of the most practiced digital methods
for heritage conservation, digital documentation and digital storytelling, are discussed below.
Digital documentation is an emerging tool used in the conservation field to record and
manage heritage sites for future use. There exists a myriad of digital documentation tools, all of
which utilize spatial data through a systemic approach to help conservationists derive, store,
427
Michelle G. Magalong, “Equity and Social Inclusion from the Ground Up: Historic Preservation in Asian
American and Pacific Islander Communities,” in Erica Avrami ed., Preservation and Social Inclusion (New York:
Columbia Books on Architecture and the City, 2020).
428
Loop, “It’s important,” 123-124.
429
Mary S. Hoffschwelle, conversation with the author, October 5, 2022, Murfreesboro, TN; John Hildreth and Ian
Spangler, interview with Forum Online, National Trust for Historic Preservation Forum Webinar, January 30, 2019.
186
structure, analyze, and present research collected from the built environment through various
sources like site surveys, archives, and literature.
430
Although intangible in nature, digital
documentation is focused on the tangible built environment. It has primarily been used as a
conservation strategy to promote sustainable methods for conserving westernized heritage sites
through UNESCO and other dominant institutions as climate change worsens and architects and
heritage professionals begin to rethink traditional conservation strategies—like the ones outlined
earlier in this chapter—because of their environmental impact.
431
But digital data collection tools
like geographic information systems (GIS), light detection and ranging (LiDAR scanning),
photogrammetry, and building information modeling (BIM) also have the power to help
underrecognized communities digitally reconstruct and interpret lost, damaged, or erased sites of
importance.
Tessa Honeycutt is the Architectural Technician at James Madison’s Montpelier plantation in
Virginia, a complex site of architectural excellence produced by enslaved labor in 1764. Since
2021, Honeycutt has been working with her colleagues to create a 3D digital restoration model of
the plantation’s main house and surrounding buildings. She and her team are using Arc GIS
technology to inventory and present architectural and historic data collected from CAD
drawings, photographs, video footage, and archival material that date to the property’s
restoration between 2003-2009. (Figure 4.12)
430
Blige Kose, “Digital Heritage Documentation,” Columbia Graduate School of Architecture, Preservation, and
Planning, accessed December 26, 2022, https://www.arch.columbia.edu/courses/14367-3790-digital-heritage-
documentation.
431
“Applying Digital Documentation for Sustainable Heritage Preservation and Management” webinar, October 22,
2022, International Centre for the Study of the Preservation and Restoration of Cultural Property (ICCROM),
recording accessed December 26, 2022, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-bH1_0j-Ss&feature=emb_rel_pause.
187
Figure 4.12: Exported shot of the 3D model created by the Institute for Advanced Technology in the Humanities at
the University of Virginia and the Center for Advanced Spatial Technology at the University of Arkansas, managed
by James Madison’s Montpelier, ca. 2021. Courtesy of James’ Madison Montpelier.
The digital conservation project is in partnership with the Center for Advanced Spatial
Technologies (CAST) at the University of Arkansas with grant funding received in 2019 from
the Institute of Museums and Library Services (IMLS). Once completed, researchers, historians,
and the public will be able to interact with the model’s digitized landscape and interpret the site’s
history without physically paying Montpelier a visit, which Honeycutt notes may be difficult for
some visitors because of its remote location and lack of ADA accessibility to reach the second
floor. “Digital preservation I think is a much more permanent preservation method and it’s much
more accessible…[it] gives us a way to experience space at a different time…So, I think it’s just
an exciting way for people to engage with the landscape in a much different way,” says
Honeycutt, “because I think it’s just a different experience than anything [we’ve] seen at a
historic site before.”
In the first phase of the project, Honeycutt spent several months digitizing documents from
over fifty boxes of records collected during the restoration project in the early 2000s. Next, she
and several architecture students from the University of Arkansas and the University of Virginia
built a model of Montpelier and its ancillary buildings in AutoDesk 3Ds Max, a digital design
software used for 3D modeling. The digital model was then imported into Arc GIS where
188
Honeycutt and her team are working to geospatially link thousands of data from the digitized
archive to the 3D model’s architectural attributes, a process known as “tagging.” Their work will
help illustrate the multi-layered tangible heritage of Montpelier from each phase of the
plantation’s history using the digital information stored in the model. “You can click [on
architectural elements] and see what [the building] looked like before the restoration. And then
you can see what it looked like during the removal phase or during the investigation phase…all
the way through to what it looks like now,” explains Honeycutt, “and I think it’s really exciting,
especially for people like me who are really into material culture [and architecture], to see that
evolution happen.” She also notes the viewer’s ability to zoom out and turn multiple layers on
and off within the model (i.e., historic plat maps from various time periods), which allows a
broader interpretation of the site as a cultural landscape, a perspective that is impossible to access
in person on Montpelier’s 2,700 acre campus.
But Honeycutt also recognizes the complicated colonial implications of plantation sites like
Montpelier, and their ability to illuminate suppressed narratives of American enslavement as
potential sites of conscience:
[Digital modeling] is a good way to bring invisible landscapes into the virtual realm, which is
very important for marginalized groups…because a lot of times their landscapes were the
ones that were bulldozed over. So, I think [digital modeling] is a great way for [descendent
communities] to become involved with the creation of these virtual landscapes, because
they’re the ones who have the oral history [records] of what the buildings looked like and
what the cultural landscapes were like.
Honeycutt and the digital conservation team at Montpelier are working to expand the model to
highlight the site’s invisible landscapes in collaboration with the local Black community, many
of whom descend from Montpelier’s former enslaved population. For example, they’re currently
working with the site’s Archeology Department to model the South Yard, which was home to the
plantation’s domestic slave community. Honeycutt hopes their efforts will help expand the
public’s perception of the site beyond its architectural prestige to include the rich intangible
heritage embedded in the cultural landscape built by Montpelier’s enslaved community.
432
432
Tessa Honeycutt, interviewed by the author via Zoom, September 15, 2022; “Evenings with the Experts: Tessa
Honeycutt” webinar, March 28, 2022, James Madison’s Montpelier, recording accessed December 27, 2022,
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GP7sV_pWBxg; For more information about the digital restoration project at
Montpelier, see: “3D Montpelier Restoration Project,” Montpelier’s Digital Doorway, accessed December 27, 2022,
https://digitaldoorway.montpelier.org/project/montpelier-digital-restoration-project/.
189
Similarly, a group of architects and engineers in Alabama are studying new ways to conserve
the heritage of endangered Rosenwald schools in the South using digital conservation
methodologies. Gorham Bird, an Assistant Professor in Auburn University’s School of
Architecture, Planning, and Landscape Design, has been working with his architecture students
in collaboration with local communities in Alabama conserve at-risk schools since 2020. The
project is funded by a grant from the National Trust for Historic Preservation and other
combined funding sources from Auburn. “I’ve been interested in understanding the physical
representation of segregation, particularly in the South,” explains Bird, “[because] when you see
injustice today, you can connect it with injustices that have happened in the past…I think that’s
always why we try to understand and study history, so that we can better understand the present.”
Bird chose to study the Rosenwald schools near Auburn’s campus because of their proximity to
the University and their notable historic significance, being among some of the first Rosenwald
schools constructed during the Tuskegee phase of the rural school building program. In
collaboration with his colleague Junshan Liu, a civil engineer by trade and a building science
professor at Auburn, Bird and his students have documented four Rosenwald schools in Alabama
thus far, with plans to document at least four more in the near future.
The project is a multi-pronged approach to conservation, and includes various types of digital
data collection methods. First, the team uses LiDAR scanning technology to precisely document
and measure each building’s form and space. Data from the scans are aggregated in a point cloud
and then registered together to develop a digitized building information model (BIM). The BIMs
are incredibly useful to detect imperfections that exist in the building that may not be perceivable
from the human eye or even from manual documentation, according to Bird. To support the
accuracy of the BIMs, the team also uses photogrammetry, which is essentially a series of
photographic images joined together to construct virtual space using a point cloud system as
well. After the BIMs are digitally constructed, they can be used to pinpoint architectural issues
with the physical building or to create an immersive, web-based environment for online
interpretation.
A third type of documentation Bird and the students employ is drone photography. The data
collected from aerial images help the team understand architectural issues with building systems
that are more difficult to access, such as the roof. They’ve also been experimenting with drones
to capture orthographic projections and elevations to create construction drawings, renderings,
190
and physical 3D models for potential physical conservation projects in the future. (Figure 4.13)
Each of these three technologies were combined to create a pilot model for the Tankersley
School in Hope Hull, Montgomery County, Alabama, which also includes interactive, clickable
links to historic photos and videos of oral history interviews collected with former students. Bird
and his team hope to construct similar immersive models for the other schools they surveyed.
Figure 4.13: Image of LiDAR generated point cloud of the New Hope Rosenwald School, Fredonia, Chambers
County, AL. Image by Gorham Bird and Junshan Liu, Auburn University.
But right now, the technologies used by Bird and his team are incredibly expensive and not
widely available, rendering this type of digital documentation project largely inaccessible for
middle income communities like Allen-White’s. Without grant funding, the team at Auburn
would have been unable to document the four Rosenwald buildings as thoroughly as they did,
and they still need additional support to reach their goal of creating fully-immersive models for
191
the eight planned Rosenwald schools.
433
Thus, limited access to digital tools creates a substantial
barrier for underrepresented communities to conserve tangible heritage in the digital realm too, a
problem that further disadvantages vernacular buildings in favor of conserving western elitist
architecture like James Madison’s Montpelier, which benefits from various funding sources for
research projects like digital restoration. But while the Arc GIS software used for Montpelier’s
restoration is also an expensive technology, Honeycutt notes that cheaper options exist for lesser
income communities to take steps toward digital documentation using free design software:
Sometimes [digital conservation] is relatively cheap. [For example,] with just general
photography, you can build a pretty decent model with a free SketchUp subscription. So, it’s
not like it has to be as intense as Montpelier’s model. It can be very rudimentary and still get
the point across what a building looked like, [to] at least conserve the look, if nothing else.
434
Unlike digital documentation, digital storytelling is an easily accessible method for
underrecognized communities to tell stories of the past. Currently, the most popular digital
storytelling tool is ArcGIS StoryMaps, a free online software used to create scrollable “stories”
by combining text with interactive maps and other multimedia content.
435
Both Honeycutt and
Bird have employed StoryMaps as part of their digital conservation projects because they are
universally available to the public and offer an immersive platform for audiences to engage with.
“StoryMaps is one of the greatest online tools for digital conservation,” says Honeycutt, “…it’s
really easy to use, really easy to build, and it’s a great way to bring in multimedia to make your
research more engaging…[they make you] feel like you’re in this little virtual world.” The online
StoryMaps program uses features like image slideshows, interactive maps, and timelines to
engage with audiences, which Honeycutt notes is especially important for young scholars and
users who spend more time online. According to Bird, “digitally reconstructing space” in tools
433
Gorham Bird, interviewed by the author via Zoom, September 8, 2022; Mitch Emmons, “Building Science,
Architecture faculty digitally preserving Alabama’s disappearing Rosenwald Schools,” Auburn Advancement
Communications, December 8, 2021, accessed December 27, 2022,
https://cws.auburn.edu/ovpr/Announcement/Details/572; Neal Reid, “National Park Service grants to boost Auburn
College of Architecture, Design and Construction, College of Liberal Arts research projects,” Auburn Advancement
Communications, May 19, 2022, accessed December 27, 2022,
https://ocm.auburn.edu/newsroom/news_articles/2022/05/191410-nps-grants-for-civil-rights-projects.php; For more
information about Auburn’s Rosenwald digital conservation project, see: “Digitally Preserving Rosenwald Schools,”
Auburn University, https://cadc.auburn.edu/digitally-preserving-rosenwald-schools/ and the digital reconstruction
pilot project created by the team for the Tankersley School in Hope Hull, Alabama:
https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=8g7w24bUB5H.
434
Honeycutt Interview, 2022.
435
“ArcGIS StoryMaps,” accessed December 27, 2022, https://storymaps.arcgis.com/.
192
like StoryMaps allows communities to create a “kind of virtual environment” that express “the
experiential nature of place” when the physical environment no longer exists in its original
form.
436
Tools like GIS and StoryMaps are already being used to digitally narrate Rosenwald schools.
For the past few years, cartographer Ian Spangler has been mapping Rosenwald schools across
the Fund’s fifteen participating states based on their cost of construction. To support his research,
Spangler created a visual StoryMap in partnership with the National Trust for Historic
Preservation that depicts a comprehensive history of the school building program in the South.
Several other StoryMaps narrate the histories of local and statewide Rosenwald communities as
well, such as the “Pine Grove: a Rosenwald Project” map that illustrates the documentation
project for the Pine Grove School in Cumberland County, Virginia, and a map titled “North
Carolina’s Rosenwald Schools” that includes information about the history and construction of
each of the state’s rural Black schools. In Tennessee, MTSU’S Center for Historic Preservation
has been digitally documenting and mapping the state’s Rosenwald schools for its Southern
Places Project since 1994, although other digital tools like digital modelling and storytelling have
yet to be employed.
437
For Rosenwald communities like Allen-White’s, digital documentation and storytelling
provide opportunities to convey place-based tangible and intangible heritage in one easily
accessible place. Exploring digital conservation methodologies and establishing a digital
presence is especially important in Whiteville while the physical conservation project is ongoing,
and the campus’s future remains undetermined. Even in its most basic form, digital
documentation can be used to virtually reconstruct Dorris Hall and the other lost buildings on
436
Honeycutt interview, 2022; Bird interview, 2022.
437
Ian Spangler, ”The Rosenwald Schools of the US South,” accessed December 26, 2022,
https://itspangler.github.io/Rosenwald-Schools/; Ian Spangler, “The Rosenwald Schools: A Story of How Black
Communities Across the American South Took Education into Their Own Hands,” National Trust for Historic
Preservation, accessed December 26, 2022,
https://nthp.maps.arcgis.com/apps/Cascade/index.html?appid=7541c163fb20486598969c7acb559663; Natalie
Natalie Chavez, Chris MacDonnell, Matthew Schneider, and Jie Zhang, “Pine Grove: a Rosenwald Project,”
November 22, 201, accessed December 26, 2022,
https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/07f5f68449a046eb8a6d50deb1fee4c2; Lori Townsend, “North Carolina’s
Rosenwald Schools,” July 26, 2021, accessed December 26, 2022,
https://storymaps.arcgis.com/collections/b56525a9a5044fa8a7cf985949e6b08b?item=1; “The Rosenwald Schools
Digital Collection in Southern Places,’ Center for Historic Preservation, Middle Tennessee State University, James
E. Walker Library, accessed December 27, 2022,
https://cdm15838.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/p15838coll4.
193
campus that played an important role in the spatial relationship between students and the
physical built environment during each phase of the county training school’s history. A digital
reconstruction of the campus would certainly bring more awareness to the history of the Allen-
White School, and potentially more financial support for the physical restoration project, or any
other SOI treatment the community chooses to implement to conserve AW’s extant buildings
moving forward.
Furthermore, digital storytelling programs like StoryMaps can help the community build a
consolidated repository of existing qualitative materials like the oral histories collected by Ann
Smithwick and myself, local collections of ephemera, mental maps, and other resources
assembled and added to the digital collection over time. This type of project is financially
feasible today, and would give authority back to AW’s community to construct their own
identity within the conservation process. Ultimately, the digitized materials would create a
compelling exhibition and interpretive space to narrate the School’s rich history of prestige,
conflict, and resilience using community-generated collective memories and resources that add
to a broader network of digitally conserved Rosenwald schools.
The various avenues for conserving the Allen-White School discussed in this chapter are
layered, intersectional, and compatible. Some include SOI treatments to address AW’s fragile
tangible architecture, and others explore alternative approaches to highlight the community’s
valuable intangible cultural heritage. Each offer possibilities to utilize qualitative materials in
both the physical world and digital realm to help conserve and reconstruct AW’s heritage, which
is critically at risk of erasure in the coming years. As is the case with most Rosenwald school
communities throughout the American South, whose stories remain excluded from the AHD.
Moreover, scholarship and policies that confront traditional definitions of authenticity, integrity,
and historic significance, like the ones discussed in this chapter, are imperative in the field of
heritage conservation to help underrecognized communities such as AW’s find new, combined
approaches to conserve invaluable place-based heritage before it’s lost forever.
194
Conclusion and Recommendations
The intention of this thesis is to contextualize the importance of the Rosenwald Fund’s
rural school building program in the greater context of Black education in the American South
using the Allen-White School in Hardeman County, Tennessee as a focal point for the program’s
success. Furthermore, this thesis argues that the invaluable heritage of Rosenwald school
communities—both tangible and intangible—need more attention, advocacy, and resources to
manage the future of significant school sites and cultural collective memories, which have
historically been neglected or suppressed as a result of an exclusionary authorized heritage
discourse (AHD) that favors of Eurocentric architectural relics over underrepresented, vernacular
communities. To address problems with the AHD and emerging discussions surrounding
significance, authenticity, and integrity, this thesis outlines various avenues for conserving
tangible and intangible heritage, all of which are synergistic and critical paths to conserving
underrecognized heritages such as that of the Allen-White School and the greater network of
Rosenwald school communities that remain at risk of erasure throughout the South.
For over two hundred years, Black Americans in the South were purposely denied
education opportunities that would allow them equal access to the social and economic resources
enjoyed by White Americans. It was not until the establishment of the Freedmen’s Bureau
schools, emancipation, and the end of the Civil War that legislative policies shifted toward
providing public education for Black students in Tennessee. It would take another one hundred
years for the state’s schools to desegregate and for racialized discrimination to become illegal,
yet the construct of White supremacy is yet to be dismantled. Consequently, the Rosenwald
schools that remain extant today represent unearthed local histories of southern Black
communities that have for too long been ignored. When woven together, these histories tell a
greater story of the persistence, pride, and resilience needed to establish a public education
system for Black students in the American South during the Jim Crow and Civil Rights Eras.
Booker T. Washington’s philosophy of self-reliance and emphasis on industrial
education, coupled with the unfortunate necessity of gaining the support of wealthy, Progressive
White philanthropists like Julius Rosenwald, created a system of public schools in rural southern
communities that catapulted Black school infrastructure into the forefront of modern education
by the mid-twentieth century. But it was ultimately investment from local communities that led
195
to the expansion of the Rosenwald public school system. In total, the public investment from
Black communities represented sixty-four percent—or $17.7 million—of the total funding for
Rosenwald schools, “making these buildings one of the largest public investments in black
education in US American history.”
438
Moreover, a 2011 study by the Federal Reserve Bank of
Chicago found that the Rosenwald Fund rural school building program accounted for nearly
forty percent of the narrowing of the Black-White education gap in completed schooling for
students born between 1910 and 1925 in the United States, with the greatest gains occurring in
counties with large percentages of formerly enslaved populations, such as Hardeman County.
The study found that the gap continued to decline in the following decades, which likely resulted
from the expansion of the Rosenwald school program, among other socio-political factors.
439
Overall, the value of Black public school property in Tennessee increased from around $2
million in 1920 to almost $9 million by 1946, a staggering increase of over 300%, resulting in
part due to the expanded Rosenwald school system in the state.
440
These statistics represent the
success of rural Black communities in overcoming politically racialized oppression and
institutional restrictions in their effort to create adequate—and often exceptional—education
opportunities in the twentieth century American South.
One of these exceptional institutions was the Allen-White School in Hardeman County,
formerly known as the Hardeman County Training School, and before that the Jesse C. Allen
School for Colored Children. The story of AW is one of relentless fundraising and perseverance,
close-knit community and pride, arson and resilience. It was the only Black high school in
Hardeman County until 1959, forty-five years after legislation passed in Tennessee that
encouraged high schools for Black students. Today, AW remains a shining example of the
Rosenwald Fund ethos and an architectural model of the program’s county training school era
built at the crux of its transition from Tuskegee to Nashville. Many students who attended AW
went on to embrace the vocational training they received in fields like farming and construction.
In 1930, ninety-one farms in Hardeman County were owned by Black farmers. By 1948, 220
438
Ian Spangler, “The Rosenwald Schools of the US South,” accessed December 26, 2022,
https://itspangler.github.io/Rosenwald-Schools/.
439
Daniel Aaronson and Bhashkar Mazumder, “The Impact of Rosenwald Schools on Black Achievement,” Federal
Reserve Bank of Chicago, Journal of Political Economy 119, no. 5 (2011): 821-888, https://doi.org/10.1086/662962.
440
Jerry Wayne Woods, “The Julius Rosenwald Fund School Building Program: A Saga in the Growth and
Development of African American Education in Selected West Tennessee Communities" (Master’s thesis,
University of Mississippi, 1995), 117.
196
Black farmers in the County owned their own land, a drastic increase that historian Ernest Rivers
attributes directly to the industrial education offered at AW. Other graduates went to college and
became teachers, lawyers, doctors, and legislators, among other professional occupations. More
students attended college as decades progressed and the agriculture industry in Hardeman
County declined after World War II, a trend that Rivers also attributes to the education students
received at Allen-White and the confidence they gained to pursue educational and career
opportunities beyond Hardeman County. Former AW students migrated all over the United
States and abroad in search of economic opportunities, a diasporic population mobilized by the
remarkable education received in Whiteville at the Rosenwald-funded county training school.
441
After the ruling of Brown v. Board of Education in 1954, most Rosenwald Schools fell
out of use, as eventually was the case with the Allen-White School. Since then, schools as far
west as Oklahoma and as far north as Maryland have been demolished or fallen into disrepair,
largely due to a lack of conservation resources. According to the National Trust for Historic
Preservation (National Trust), of the 5,357 total Rosenwald schools built between 1917-1932,
only ten to twelve percent are estimated to survive today.
442
Luckily, more resources exist now
than ever before to confront previously ignored underrecognized histories such as that of the
Rosenwald schools, and the advocacy for protection is only growing stronger.
In 2002, the Rosenwald schools were listed on the National Trust’s “11 Most Endangered
Historic Places” list. But the listing was largely geared toward raising awareness. Politically,
little was done at the time to provide actual resources for local communities to enact feasible
conservation plans. More recently, however, the National Trust has become more committed to
conserving the remaining Rosenwald schools and the intangible cultural memory of all
Rosenwald communities to create space for previously unrecognized histories. In January 2021,
the Julius Rosenwald School Study Act (H.R. 3250) was signed into federal law, after having
been introduced in the Senate in 2019. The new legislation authorized a special resources study
of sites associated with the Rosenwald Fund’s school building program by the National Park
441
Ernest L. Rivers, “The History of Allen-White High School, Whiteville, Hardeman County, TN from 1930-
1948,” (Master’s thesis, Tennessee State A&I University, 1954), 8-10; Evelyn Robertson, interviewed by the author,
October 13, 2022.
442
“Rosenwald Schools,” National Trust for Historic Preservation, https://savingplaces.org/places/rosenwald-
schools, accessed January 3, 2023. Unfortunately, data pertaining to the rural schools built during the Tuskegee
phase spanning from ca. 1913-1917 are incomplete and insufficient. However, it can be assumed that approximately
six hundred schools built during this time frame have also been lost or are in a critical state of erasure.
197
Service (NPS) with the goal of establishing a national historical park to celebrate the schools’
legacy. While the legislation is certainly a significant step toward addressing the forgotten
heritage of Rosenwald school communities, the selective pool of schools chosen for the study
only represents a small percentage of Rosenwald communities in need of heritage assistance. The
National Trust’s African American Cultural Heritage Action Fund, which was established in
2017 prior to the Julius Rosenwald School Study Act, is perhaps a better resource for Rosenwald
communities to receive concrete financial support for taking heritage action as it’s meant to
expand the AHD by preserving sites of Black activism, achievement, and resilience by “making
room” to “enact positive social change.”
443
Although these grants are certainly beneficial to those
Rosenwald communities that receive them, the funding is still limited in scope and selective in
nature, and thus overlooks the Rosenwald schools as a broader network of institutions that
contribute to the history of Black education. Instead of the fragmented approach currently
underway, more must be done to establish a holistic conservation plan for the Rosenwald schools
before it is too late.
Rosenwald communities like the one in Whiteville certainly need more national
recognition and support from the AHD, but conservation efforts must also come from within.
Grassroots, localized planning initiatives such as ECHO’s formulate an ongoing relationship
between the site and its community, a bond necessary to ensure the success of any conservation
approach. In conserving heritage sites like the Allen-White School, community organizing to
address tangible built environments in order to reconstruct space and its place-attachment to
people for future management is a vital step. But this step should not be taken without
consideration for the intangible cultural heritage of these places, which is possibly even more
important to conserve because of its ability to convey cultural meaning and invoke place-
attachment based on collective memory and nostalgia.
In Allen-White’s case, the School’s four possible arson attacks are currently overlooked
and potentially undervalued in the chosen reconstruction treatment approach. This decision
glosses over AW as a site of conflict, layered with difficult events in its history that required
443
Pam Bowman, “NPS Launches Special Resource Study for Julius Rosenwald and Rosenwald Schools,” National
Trust for Historic Preservation, July 21, 2022, https://savingplaces.org/places/rosenwald-schools/updates/nps-
launches-special-resource-study-for-rosenwald-schools, accessed January 3, 2023; “African American Cultural
Heritage Action Fund,” National Trust for Historic Preservation, https://savingplaces.org/african-american-cultural-
heritage, accessed January 3, 2022.
198
resilience and adaptability on behalf of the community to overcome racialized violence time and
time again. The story of arson at AW is a ubiquitous part of the story of Rosenwald schools as a
whole, a fear of Booker T. Washington and the Rosenwald Fund that was actualized too often in
Black communities throughout the South. The racialized violence at AW is therefore significant
in the context of Rosenwald school history, and deserves recognition as such. In light of this,
Whiteville’s community members should consider alternative SOI treatment approaches, such as
the options delineated in the previous chapter, that may be better able to address AW’s difficult
history as a site of conscience. Furthermore, ECHO should make additional efforts to conserve
the School’s intangible history using qualitative and digital methods before collective memories
are lost with an aging AW community. Despite these professional recommendations, it is
ultimately up to the community in Whiteville to decide what the best options are for conserving
the Allen-White School in a way that satisfies their own wants and needs as the primary
stakeholders, a choice that will inevitably carry authenticity regardless of approach.
This thesis asks that the AHD expand to address underrecognized communities currently at
risk of losing invaluable physical and cultural heritage. But while striving to be comprehensive,
the scope of this project is limited. As such, more research is necessary to understand Rosenwald
schools and their contribution to Black education and economic mobility in the United States.
The most effective research method would be for national and local heritage institutions to
allocate enough resources to conduct a complete survey of extant Rosenwald schools, and an
archeological survey on the former sites of those that no longer exist. The data collected from
this type of study—both quantitative and qualitative—would be invaluable to our understanding
of the Rosenwald school network and its conservation needs moving forward. Furthermore, more
research is needed to understand the schools as sites of difficult histories, especially the impact
of arson on Rosenwald school sites resulting from the system of White supremacy. To raise
awareness and bolster advocacy, local governments need to incorporate curriculums that teach
the history of the Rosenwald schools for future generations to understand their paramount
influence on patterns of Black education. Finally, increased access to qualitative and digital tools
like those outlined in the previous chapter is critical to help underrepresented communities take
autonomous heritage action at the local level using resources that have traditionally been
restricted to wealthy, westernized groups.
199
Rosenwald schools like Allen-White created invaluable environments for Black
attainment that were previously unthinkable in the South. Students who attended the schools
found uplift in their education and confidence in their ability to rise above systems of oppression,
segregation, and discrimination imbedded in American society during the twentieth century.
Despite its flaws, heritage conservation remains an important tool to tell stories of pride,
resilience, self-determination, and identity. We owe it to these communities to finally shed light
on those stories.
Figure C.1: Group portrait of former Allen-White students in front of Elcanaan Baptist Church, ca. 2005,
photographed by Ann Smithwick. Courtesy of Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders
photography and oral history project.
200
Bibliography
“(1866) Jim Crow Laws: Tennessee, 1866-1955.” Black Past, October 30, 2022.
https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/jim-crow-laws-tennessee-1866-
1955/.
“3D Montpelier Restoration Project.” Montpelier’s Digital Doorway. James Madison's
Montpelier. Accessed December 27, 2022.
https://digitaldoorway.montpelier.org/project/montpelier-digital-restoration-project/.
Aaronson, Daniel, and Bhashkar Mazumder. “The Impact of Rosenwald Schools on Black
Achievement.” Journal of Political Economy 119, no. 5 (2011).
https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.1086/662962.
“About Us.” International Coalition of Sites of Conscience. Accessed December 14, 2022.
https://www.sitesofconscience.org/about-us/about-us/.
“African American Cultural Heritage Action Fund.” National Trust for Historic Preservation.
Accessed January 3, 2023. https://savingplaces.org/african-american-cultural-heritage.
“Allen-White High School.” The Hardeman County Mirror. May 1930.
Anderson, James D. The Education of Blacks in the South, 1860-1935. Chapel Hill: University of
North Carolina Press, 1988.
“Applying Digital Documentation for Sustainable Heritage Preservation and Management.”
International Centre for the Study of the Preservation and Restoration of Cultural
Property (ICCROM), October 22, 2022. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-bH1_0j-
Ss&feature=emb_rel_pause.
“ArcGIS StoryMaps.” Accessed December 27, 2022. https://storymaps.arcgis.com/.
Arlotta, Allison, Erica Avrami, and Erica Avrami. “Preservation’s Engagement in Questions of
Inclusion: A Literature Review.” In Preservation and Social Inclusion. New York:
Columbia Books on Architecture and the City, 2020.
Arney, Oliver. “Rosenwald Schools and the Importance of Preserving History.” Tennessee State
Museum. Accessed November 12, 2022. https://tnmuseum.org/Stories/posts/rosenwald-
schools-and-the-importance-of-preserving-history?locale=en_us.
Ascoli, Peter M. Julius Rosenwald: The Man Who Built Sears, Roebuck and Advanced the Cause
of Black Education in the American South. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006.
Avrami, Erica. Preservation, Sustainability, and Equity. New York: Columbia Books on
Architecture and the City, 2021.
201
Barnes, John. “Causes Sought in School Fires.” The Commercial Appeal. February 24, 1971.
Bird, Gorham. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, September 8, 2022.
Beard, Christine. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 7, 2005.
Bernstein, Ken, and Janet Hansen. “Survey LA: Linking Historic Resources Surveys to Local
Planning.” Journal of the American Planning Association 82, no. 2 (2016).
Booker T. Washington Papers, 1853-1946. Library of Congress. Washington, D.C.
Bly, Antonio T. “‘Pretends He Can Read’: Runaways and Literacy in Colonial America, 1730-
1776 .” Early American Studies 6, no. 2 (2008): 261–94.
https://doi.org/http://www.jstor.org/stable/23546575.
Bowman, Pam. “NPS Launches Special Resource Study for Julius Rosenwald and Rosenwald
Schools.” National Trust for Historic Preservation. Accessed January 3, 2023.
https://savingplaces.org/places/rosenwald-schools/updates/nps-launches-special-resource-
study-for-rosenwald-schools.
Brown, Josie. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 29, 2005.
Buckley, James Michael. “People in Place: Local Planning to Preserve Diverse Cultures.” In The
Oxford Handbook of Public Heritage Theory and Practice. Oxford: Oxford University,
2018.
Buford, Samuel. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 22, 2005.
“Building for the Future.” Transparent Tennessee. Tennessee Department of Economic and
Community Development. Accessed December 7, 2022.
https://www.tn.gov/transparenttn/state-financial-overview/open-ecd/openecd/tnecd-
performance-metrics/openecd-long-term-objectives-quick-stats/distressed-counties.html.
Building for the Future: Building on Our Past. Elcanaan Community Help Organization
(ECHO), 2019.
Cantell, Sophie Franchesca. “The Adaptive Reuse of Historic Industrial Buildings: Regulation
Barriers, Best Practices and Case Studies,” Master’s thesis, Virginia Polytechnic Institute
and State University, 2005.
“Casa Grande Ruins.” National Park Service, December 22, 2020.
https://www.nps.gov/cagr/learn/historyculture.
202
“Chaplain John Eaton.” Tennessee Civil War Trails. Tennessee Department of Tourist
Development. Accessed November 17, 2022. https://www.tnvacation.com/civil-
war/person/2134/chaplain-john-eaton/.
Chavez, Natalie, Chris MacDonnell, Matthew Schneider, and Jie Zhang. “Pine Grove: a
Rosenwald Project.” Accessed December 26, 2022.
https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/07f5f68449a046eb8a6d50deb1fee4c2.
Ciomek, Summer Anne. “The History, Architecture, and Preservation of Rosenwald Schools in
Georgia,” Master’s thesis, University of Georgia, 2007.
Claybrook, M. Keith. “Black Identity and the Power of Self-Naming.” Black Perspectives.
African American Intellectual History Society, September 10, 2021.
https://www.aaihs.org/black-identity-and-the-power-of-self-naming/.
Clinton J. Calloway Papers, Tuskegee University Archives, Tuskegee Institute, Alabama.
Clough, Dick B. “Teacher Institutes in Tennessee, 1870-1900.” Tennessee Historical Quarterly
31, no. 1 (1972): 61–73. https://doi.org/https://www.jstor.org/stable/42623282.
“The College Internship Plan.” The Allen-White Voice. November 12, 1946, 4th edition.
“County History.” Hardeman County Tennessee. Accessed November 16, 2022.
https://hardemancounty.org/about-us/county-history/.
Crawford, Cosette. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
Crisp, Patricia. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 7, 2005.
Crowder, Georgia. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
Davis, Faye Tennyson. “Hardeman County.” Nashville: Tennessee Historical Society, 2017.
“The Death of Booker T. Washington.” Booker T. Washington National Monument. National
Park Service. Accessed November 10, 2022.
https://www.nps.gov/bowa/learn/historyculture/upload/THE-FINAL-btwdeath-site-
bulletin.pdf.
Denzin, Norman K., and Yvonna S. Lincoln. The SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Research, Fifth
Edition. 5th ed. Thousand Oaks: SAGE Publications, 2018.
Deutsch, Stephanie. You Need a Schoolhouse: Booker T. Washington, Julius Rosenwald, and the
Building of Schools for the Segregated South. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University
Press, 2015.
203
“Digitally Preserving Rosenwald Schools.” College of Architecture, Design, and Construction.
Auburn University. Accessed December 27, 2022. https://cadc.auburn.edu/digitally-
preserving-rosenwald-schools/.
“Distressed Counties.” Transparent Tennessee. Tennessee Department of Economic and
Community Development. Accessed December 7, 2022.
https://www.tn.gov/transparenttn/state-financial-overview/open-ecd/openecd/tnecd-
performance-metrics/openecd-long-term-objectives-quick-stats/distressed-counties.html.
Dotson, Edna. Interview by Ann Smithwick. Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 7, 2005.
Dotson, George. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
Dotson, Glenn. Interview by Ann Smithwick. Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 7, 2005.
Dyen, Doris J., and Edward K. Muller. “Conserving the Heritage of Industrial Communities: The
Compromising Issue of Integrity.” Historic Preservation Forum 8, no. 4 (1994).
Eligon, John. “A Debate Over Identity and Race Asks, Are African-Americans ‘Black’ or
‘Black.’” New York Times, June 26, 2020.
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/26/us/black-african-american-style-
debate.html?smid=url-share.
Ellison, Charlie. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 19, 2005.
Eltis, David. The Rise of African Slavery in the Americas. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1999.
Emmons, Mitch. “Building Science, Architecture Faculty Digitally Preserving Alabama’s
Disappearing Rosenwald Schools.” Auburn Advancement Communications. Auburn
University, December 8, 2021. https://cws.auburn.edu/ovpr/Announcement/Details/572.
“Ephemera Collection—A Growing Field, Hard to Define.” The Ephemera Society of America.
Accessed December 23, 2023. https://www.ephemerasociety.org/ephemera-collecting-a-
growing-field-hard-to-define.
Equiano, Olaudah. The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, Or Gustavus
Vassa, The African. United States: Palgrave MacMillian, 2007. [1789].
“Evenings with the Experts: Tessa Honeycutt.” James Madison’s Montpelier, March 28, 2022.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GP7sV_pWBxg.
204
Feiler, Andrew. A Better Life for Their Children: Julius Rosenwald, Booker T. Washington, and
the 4,978 Schools That Changed America. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2021.
Feiler, Andrew. “The Architecture of Rosenwald Schools.” Architect Magazine, March 31, 2021.
https://www.architectmagazine.com/aia-architect/aiaadvocacy/the-architecture-of-
rosenwald-schools_o.
Finkelman, Paul. “The Revolutionary Summer of 1862: How Congress Abolished Slavery and
Created a Modern America.” Prologue Magazine 49, no. 4 (2017).
Flemming, Cynthia Griggs. “Elementary and Secondary Education.” In Tennessee Encyclopedia.
Nashville: Tennessee Historical Society, 2007.
http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/elementary-and-secondary-education/.
Fraley-Rhodes, Miranda. “When Paying a Poll Tax in Tennessee Was the Norm.” Tennessee
State Museum, April 13, 2022. https://tnmuseum.org/Stories/posts/when-paying-a-poll-
tax-in-tennessee-was-the-norm.
Frank, Sybille. Wall Memorials and Heritage: The Heritage Industry of Berlin’s Checkpoint
Charlie. London: Routledge, 2016.
Fu, Shulan, and Jean Hillier. “Disneyfication or Self-Referentiality: Recent Conservation Efforts
and Modern Planning History in Datong.” China: A Historical Geography of the Urban,
2017, 165–91. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-64042-6_8.
Garner, Anne. “Throwaway History: Towards Historiography of Ephemera.” State of the
Discipline 24, no. 1 (2021). https://doi.org/doi:10.1353/bh.2021.0008.
Gary, Shannon. “Tuskegee University.” In Encyclopedia of Alabama. Alabama Humanities
Alliance, September 2, 2021. http://encyclopediaofalabama.org/article/h-1583.
General Education Board Papers. Rockefeller archive Center, New York.
“The Glass House Project.” Menokin. Accessed December 15, 2022. https://www.menokin.org/.
The Godspeed Histories of Fayette & Hardeman Counties of Tennessee, 1887. Columbia, TN:
Woodward & Stinson Printing Company, 1973.
Goldberg, Barry, and Barbara Shubinski. “Black Education and Rockefeller Philanthropy from
the Jim Crow South to the Civil Rights Era.” Re: Source. Rockefeller Archive Center,
September 11, 2020. https://resource.rockarch.org/story/black-education-and-rockefeller-
philanthropy-from-the-jim-crow-south-to-the-civil-rights-era/.
Greene, Odell. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
205
Grimmer, Anne E., ed. The Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for the Treatment of Historic
Properties with Guidelines for Preserving, Rehabilitating, Restoring, & Reconstructing
Historic Buildings. U.S. Department of the Interior, National Park Service, Technical
Preservation Services, 2017.
Guerra, Claudia. “Finding the Soul of Communities.” Interview by Erica Avrami. Preservation
and Social Inclusion (New York: Columbia Books on Architecture and the City, 2020).
Harris, Fredell. Interview by Ann Smithwick. Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 7, 2005.
Harris, Fredell. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
Hanchett, Tom. “Saving the South’s Rosenwald Schools.” History South. Accessed November 8,
2022. https://www.historysouth.org/schoolhistory/.
Hardeman County Historic Sketches. Bolivar, TN: Hardeman County Historical Commission,
1979.
Hardeman County Office of the Register, Record of Deeds. Register Book E-3, Page 333,
Bolivar, Tennessee, October 17, 1919, accessed October 11, 2022.
Hardeman County Office of the Register, Record of Deeds. Register Book 23-R, Page 504-505,
Bolivar, Tennessee, May 10, 1944, accessed October 11, 2022.
Harlan, Louis R. “The Southern Education Board and the Race Issue in Public Education.” The
Journal of Southern History 23, no. 2 (1957): 189–202. https://doi.org/10.2307/2955313.
Harris, Lois. Interview by Ann Smithwick. Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 7, 2005.
Hayden, Dolores. The Power of Place: Urban Landscapes as Public History. Cambridge, MA:
The Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 1995.
Hildreth, John and Spangler, Ian. Forum Online Webinar Interview. National Trust for Historic
Preservation, January 30, 2019.
Holmes, Ocie. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
Honeycutt, Tessa. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, September 15, 2022.
“Hiroshima Peace Memorial (Genbaku Dome), Japan.” UNESCO World Heritage List. Accessed
December 15, 2022. https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/775/.
206
“History of Black Education: Washington and DuBois.” Kenyon College. Accessed November 8,
2022.
https://www2.kenyon.edu/Depts/Amerstud/blackhistoryatkenyon/Individual%20Pages/W
ashington%20and%20DuBois.htm.
Hoffschwelle, Mary S. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, Whiteville, Tennessee, January 31,
2022.
Hoffschwelle, Mary S. “General Education Board (GEB).” In Tennessee Encyclopedia.
Nashville: Tennessee Historical Society, 2017.
http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/general-education-board-geb/.
Hoffschwelle, Mary S. “Julius Rosenwald Fund.” In Tennessee Encyclopedia. Nashville:
Tennessee Historical Society, 2017. http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/julius-
rosenwald-fund/.
Hoffschwelle, Mary S. Preserving Rosenwald Schools. National Trust for Historic Preservation,
2003.
Hoffschwelle, Mary S. “Public Education in Tennessee.” Trials and Triumphs: Tennesseans’
Search for Citizenship, Community, and Opportunity. Middle Tennessee State
University, 2014. https://dsi.mtsu.edu/trials/hoffschwelle.
Hoffschwelle, Mary S. The Rosenwald Schools of the American South. Gainesville: University
Press of Florida, 2006.
Hood, Albert H. Park and Recreation Structures. Boulder, CO: Graybooks, 1990. [1938]
Hosmer, Charles B. Preservation Comes of Age: From Williamsburg to the National Trust,
1926-1949. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia [for the Preservation Press],
1981.
Hudson, Annie. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
James H. White Papers. Annie M. Payton Archives. James Herbert White Library. Mississippi
Valley State University.
Jarmon, Ruthie. Interview by Ann Smithwick. Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 7, 2005.
Johnson, Charles. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
Jones, Allen W. “Voices for Improving Rural Life: Alabama’s Black Agricultural Press, 1890-
1965.” Agricultural History 58, no. 3 (1984): 209–20.
https://doi.org/http://www.jstor.org/stable/3743075.
207
Joyner, Sean. “'The Glass House Project' Begins Construction at the Menokin Foundation.”
Archinet News, June 26, 2020. https://archinect.com/news/article/150204458/the-glass-
house-project-begins-construction-at-the-menokin-foundation.
Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives (1-267), 1917-1948. Special Collections and Archives. John
Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library. Fisk University.
Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives (268-494), 1917-1948. Special Collections and Archives. John
Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library. Fisk University.
Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives (495-563), 1917-1948. Special Collections and Archives. John
Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library. Fisk University.
Julius Rosenwald Fund Archives (Supplement 2), 1917-1946. Special Collections and Archives.
John Hope and Aurelia E. Franklin Library. Fisk University.
Julius Rosenwald Papers, 1905-1963. Hanna Holborn Gray Special Collections Research Center.
University of Chicago.
Katz, William Loren. Eyewitness: The Negro in American History. New York: Pitman Pub.
Corp., 1967.
Kelleher, Michael James. “Making History: Reconstructing Historic Structures in the National
Park System,” Master’s thesis, University of Pennsylvania, 1998.
Kennedy, Mabel. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 29, 2005.
Kennedy, Ruby. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 29, 2005.
Kirskey, Howard Graden. “History and Comparative Growth of Public Schools in Hardeman
County, 1867-1936,” Master’s thesis, Union University 1937.
Kose, Blige. “Digital Heritage Documentation.” Columbia Graduate School of Architecture,
Preservation, and Planning. Accessed December 26, 2022.
https://www.arch.columbia.edu/courses/14367-3790-digital-heritage-documentation.
Lamon, Lester. “Negroes in Tennessee, 1900-1930),” Master’s thesis, University of North
Carolina at Chapel Hill, 1971.
Lauder, Kathy. “Chapter 130 and the Black Vote in Tennessee.” Middle Tennessee Journal of
Genealogy & History 24, no. 2 (2010): 1–6.
208
Lee, Maria Y., Michael Hitchcock, and Joyce W. Lei. “Mental Mapping and Heritage Visitors’
Spatial Perceptions.” Journal of Heritage Tourism 13, no. 4 (2018).
https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.1080/1743873X.2017.1350187.
Leggs, Brent, Jenna Dublin, and Michael Power. “Telling the Full American Story: Insights from
the African American Cultural Heritage Action Fund.” In Preservation and Social
Inclusion, edited by Erica Avrami. New York: Columbia Books on Architecture and the
City, 2020.
Lester, Margot. “Q&A: Ellen Weiss on Robert R. Taylor.” Architect Magazine, March 2, 2012.
https://www.architectmagazine.com/design/q-a-ellen-weiss-on-robert-r-taylor_o.
Loop, Jackson. “'It’s Important to Remember What Started It': Conserving Sites and Stories of
Racial Violence in Los Angeles, 1943-1992,” Master’s thesis, University of Southern
California, 2020.
Low, Setha. Spatializing Culture: The Ethnography of Space and Place. London: Routledge,
2017.
Lowenthal, David. Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History. New
York: Free Press, 1996.
Lynch, Kevin. The Image of the City. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1960.
Magalong, Michelle G. “Equity and Social Inclusion from the Ground Up: Historic Preservation
in Asian American and Pacific Islander Communities.” In Preservation and Social
Inclusion, edited by Erica Avrami. New York: Columbia Books on Architecture and the
City, 2020.
Mason, Randall. “Fixing Historic Preservation: A Constructive Critique of ‘Significance.’”
Places 16, no. 1 (2004). https://escholarship.org/uc/item/74q0j4j2.
Maynez, Maria. “Work to Begin on Visitors Center in Pullman’s Historical Clock Tower.” Block
Club Chicago, February 3, 2020. https://blockclubchicago.org/2020/02/03/work-to-begin-
on-visitors-center-in-pullmans-historic-clock-tower/.
McAlester, Virginia Savage. A Field Guide to American House: The Definitive Guide to
Identifying and Understanding America’s Domestic Architecture. 2nd ed. A., Knopf:
Alfred, 2013.
McDonnold, R.I. “The Reconstruction Period in Tennessee.” The American Historical Magazine
1, no. 4 (1896): 307–28. https://doi.org/http://www.jstor.org/stable/42657113.
McKenzie, Robert Tracy. “Freedmen and the Soil in the Upper South: The Reorganization of
Tennessee Agriculture, 1865-1880.” The Journal of Southern History 59, no. 1 (1993):
63–84. https://doi.org/10.2307/2210348.
209
McKenzie, Robert Tracy. “Sharecropping.” In Tennessee Encyclopedia. Nahville: Tennessee
Historical Society, 2017. http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/sharecropping/.
McKinney, Alfreeda Lake. “Allen-White School, 1930-1970.” In Chronicle of Black History in
Hardeman County, Tennessee. Bolivar, TN: Bolivar-Hardeman County Black History
Committee, 1979.
Mikesell, Stephen D. “Historic Preservation That Counts: Quantitative Methods for Evaluating
Historic Resources.” The Public Historian 8, no. 4 (1986).
https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.2307/3377500.
Minner, Jennifer. “Revealing Synergies, Tensions, and Silences Between Preservation and
Planning.” Journal of the American Planning Association 82, no. 2 (2016).
https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.1080/01944363.2016.1147976.
Molina, Natalia. In A Place at the Nayarit: How a Mexican Restaurant Nourished a Community,
1st ed. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2022.
Morrow, Juanita. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
Dr. Robert Russa Morton Papers, Tuskegee University Archives, Tuskegee Institute, Alabama.
Mulcahy, Lindsay. “Conservation ‘On the Natch’: Maintenance and Remembrance at the
Alcoholism Center for Women,” Master’s thesis, University of Southern California,
2022.
“Myrtle Robertson Remembers.” Bolivar Bulletin-Times. February 1, 1995, 20 edition, sec. 20A.
“National Register Bulletin 15: How to Apply the National Register Criteria for Evaluation .”
Washington D.C.: U.S. Department of the Interior, 1990. rev. 1991, 1995, 1997, 2001,
2002
“National Youth Administration.” In Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History & Culture. Oklahoma
Historical Society. Accessed November 29, 2022.
https://web.archive.org/web/20120102040611/http://digital.library.okstate.edu/encyclope
dia/entries/N/NA014.html.
The Negro Rural School and Its Relation to the Community. Tuskegee, AL: Tuskegee Institute,
1915.
The Negro Rural School and Its Relation to the Community. Tuskegee: Tuskegee Institute, 1915.
Negro Yearbook: And Annual Encyclopedia of the Negro. Tuskegee: Tuskegee Institute, 1913.
210
Nguyėn, Ann Thùy, and Maya Pendleton. “Recognizing Race in Language: Why We Capitalize
‘Black’ and ‘White'.” Center for the Study of Social Policy, March 23, 2020.
https://cssp.org/2020/03/recognizing-race-in-language-why-we-capitalize-black-and-
white/.
Norment, Jesse. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 7, 2005.
Norrell, Robert J. Up From History: The Life of Booker T. Washington. Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 2008.
“The Origins of Jim Crow.” Ferris State University. Accessed November 13, 2022.
https://www.ferris.edu/HTMLS/news/jimcrow/origins.htm.
“Our Present Needs.” The Allen-White Voice. November 12, 1946, 3rd edition.
“Overview of the Progressive Era.” Digital History. Accessed November 13, 2022.
https://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/era.cfm?eraid=11&smtid=1.
Page, Max. “Sites of Conscience: Shockoe Bottom, Manzanar, and Mountain Meadows.”
Preservation Magazine. National Trust for Historic Preservation. Accessed December 14,
2022. https://savingplaces.org/stories/sites-of-conscience.
Peterson, Jan L. “The Intersection of Oral History and the Role of White Researchers in Cross-
Cultural Contexts.” Educational Foundations 22, no. 3-4 (2008).
Phillips, Paul David. “Education of Blacks in Tennessee During Reconstruction, 1865-1870.”
Tennessee Historical Quarterly 46, no. 2 (1987): 98–109.
https://doi.org/https://www.jstor.org/stable/42626663.
Pratt, Nannie S. “To Study the Characteristics and Possible Causes of the High Rate of Dropouts
in the Tenth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Grades Students at Allen White High School,
Whiteville, Tennessee, 1963-1966 Inclusive,” Master’s thesis, Tennessee A&I State
University, 1967.
Preston, Emmett D. “The Development of Negro Education in the District of Columbia.” The
Journal of Negro Education 9, no. 4 (1940): 595–601. https://doi.org/10.2307/2292805.
“Pullman.” National Park Service, n.d. https://www.nps.gov/pull.
Reid, Neal. “National Park Service Grants to Boost Auburn College of Architecture, Design and
Construction, College of Liberal Arts Research Projects.” Auburn Advancement
Communications. Auburn University, May 19, 2022.
https://ocm.auburn.edu/newsroom/news_articles/2022/05/191410-nps-grants-for-civil-
rights-projects.php.
211
Rep. Learning the Ways of Democracy. Educational Policies Commission Report. Washington
D.C.: General Education Board, 1943.
Rep. The Nara Document on Authenticity. Nara Conference on Authenticity in Relation to the
World Heritage Convention, ICOMOS Symposia, 1994.
Rhodes, Willie Jerry. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the
Elders. Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
Rhodes, Jesse. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
Rivers, Ernest L. “The History of Allen-White High School, Whiteville, Hardeman County, TN
from 1930-1948,” Master’s thesis, Tennessee State A&I University, 1954.
“Robert R. Taylor.” MIT Black History. Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Accessed
November 8, 2022. https://www.blackhistory.mit.edu/story/robert-r-taylor.
Robertson, Evelyn C. Education and the American Dream: The Allen-White High School Story,
1905-1970. Self-published, Evelyn C. Robertson, 2009.
Robertson, Evelyn C. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the
Elders. Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
Robertson, Evelyn C. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 13,
2022.
Robertson, Evelyn C. The Robertson Family: Portrait of a Post-Civil War African-American
Family: Challenges and Vision, 1860's-Present. Bloomington, IN: AuthorHouse, 2020.
Robertson, Hugholene. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the
Elders. Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
Rosenthal, Bernard. “Puritan Conscience and New England Slavery.” The New England
Quarterly 46, no. 1 (March 1973): 62–81. https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.2307/364886.
The Rosenwald Schools Digital Collection. Southern Places Collection. Center for Historic
Preservation Middle Tennessee State University.
“Rosenwald Schools: National Trust for Historic Preservation.” Rosenwald Schools. National
Trust for Historic Preservation, January 21, 2022.
https://savingplaces.org/places/rosenwald-schools.
Rothstein, Richard. Class and Schools: Using Social, Economic, and Educational Reform to
Close the Black-White Achievement Gap. Washington, D.C.: Economic Policy Institute,
2004.
212
Ruskin, John. Seven Lamps of Architecture. London: Electric Book Company, 2000. [1849]
Rybczynski, Witold. “Remembering the Rosenwald Schools.” Architect Magazine, September
16, 2015. https://www.architectmagazine.com/design/culture/remembering-the-
rosenwald-schools_o.
Rypkema, Donovan D. “Making Historic Preservation Relevant for the Next 50 Years.” Forum
Journal 24, no. 3 (2010).
Sain, Cleaster. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
Shaw, Johnny. Interview by Brannon Smithwick, Whiteville, Tennessee, October 14, 2022.
Shockley, Loyce. Interview by Ann Smithwick. Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 7, 2005.
Smith, Jonathan K.T. “Genealogical and Historical Gleanings from the Freedmen’s Bureau
Records West Tennessee.” TNGen Web Project, 2003.
https://www.tngenweb.org/records/madison/misc/freedmen/fbwtn-05.htm.
Smith, Laurajane. Uses of Heritage. London: Routledge, 2006.
Smith, Samuel L. Builders of Goodwill: The Story of the State Agents of Negro Education in the
South, 1910 to 1950. Nashville: Tennessee Book Company, 1950.
Smith, Samuel L. All Along the Way, From Sunrise at Swan Creek to the Evening Shadows at
Peabody. Peabody College: Unpublished manuscript, n.d.
Samuel Leonard Smith Collection, 1869-2007. Special Collections and Archives. John Hope and
Aurelia E. Franklin Library. Fisk University.
Smithwick, Ann. Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders. 2004-2007.
Span, Christopher M. “Learning in Spite of Opposition: African Americans and Their History of
Educational Exclusion in Antebellum America.” Counterpoints 131 (2005): 26–53.
https://doi.org/http://www.jstor.org/stable/42977282.
Spangler, Ian. “The Rosenwald Schools of the US South,” n.d. Accessed December 26, 2022.
Spangler, Ian. “The Rosenwald Schools: A Story of How Black Communities Across the
American South Took Education into Their Own Hands.” National Trust for Historic
Preservation. Accessed December 26, 2022.
https://nthp.maps.arcgis.com/apps/Cascade/index.html?appid=7541c163fb20486598969c
7acb559663.
213
Spencer, Beatrice. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
Spencer, Dixie. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
Stitely, Thomas Beane. “Bridging the Gap: A History of the Rosenwald Fund in the
Development of Rural Negro Schools in Tennessee 1912-1932,” Master’s thesis, George
Peabody College for Teachers 1975.
Swint, Henry Lee. “Reports from Educational Agents of the Freedmen’s Bureau in Tennessee,
1865-1870.” Tennessee Historical Quarterly 1, no. 1 (1942): 152–70.
https://doi.org/https://www.jstor.org/stable/42620741.
“Allen-White High School and a community’s revival.” Tennessee’s Historic Landscape. August
9, 2017, accessed October 30, 2022.
https://tennesseehistoriclandscape.com/2017/08/09/allen-white-high-school-and-a-
communitys-revival/.
Tennessee Department of Education Records, 1874-1987, Record Group 273. Tennessee State
Archives, Nashville.
Tennessee Department of Education Records, 1874-1984, Record Group 273A. Tennessee State
Archives, Nashville.
Tennessee Department of Education Records, 1917-1978, Record Group 51. Tennessee State
Archives, Nashville.
Tennessee Department of Education Commissioner’s Records, 1913-1970, Record Group 92.
Tennessee State Archives, Nashville.
Tennessee State Board of Education Records, 1815-1958, Record Group 91. Tennessee State
Archives, Nashville.
Thomson, Robert Garland. “Authenticity and the Post-Conflict Reconstruction of Historic Sites.”
CRM: The Journal of Heritage Stewardship 5, no. 1 (2008).
Tisdale, Ernest. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 17, 2005.
Townsend, Lori. “North Carolina’s Rosenwald Schools,” July 26, 2021.
https://storymaps.arcgis.com/collections/b56525a9a5044fa8a7cf985949e6b08b?item=1.
Tyler, Norman, Ilene R. Tyler, and Ted Ligibel. Historic Preservation: An Introduction to Its
History, Principles, and Practice. 3rd ed. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2018.
214
Volunteer Voices Digital Collection. University of Tennessee, Knoxville.
Washington, Booker T. Industrial Education for the Negro [1903]. South Carolina: CreateSpace
Indepedent Publishing, 2013.
Washington, Booker T. Up From Slavery [1901]. New York: Dover Publications, 1995.
Washington, Booker T., Louis R. Harlan, and John W. Blassingame. The Booker T. Washington
Papers: Volume 1, The Autobiographical Writings. Champaign, IL: University of Illinois
Press, 1972.
Weiss, Ellen. Robert R. Taylor and Tuskegee: An African American Architect Designs for
Booker T. Washington. Montgomery, AL: NewSouth Books, 2012.
West, Carroll Van. Allen-White School. National Register of Historic Places
Inventory/Nomination Form. September 26, 2005. Tennessee Historical Commission.
West, Carroll Van. “United Sons and Daughters of Charity Lodge Hall.” In Tennessee
Encyclopedia. Nashville: Tennessee Historical Society, 2017.
West, Earle H. “The Peabody Education Fund and Negro Education, 1867-1880.” History of
Education Quarterly 6, no. 2 (1966): 3–21. https://doi.org/10.2307/367416.
White, Elizabeth. “Allen-White High School.” Bolivar-Hardeman County Library, June 16,
1933.
White, James H. Up from a Cotton Patch: J.H. White and the Development of Mississippi Valley
State College. Itta Bena, MS: Self-published, James H. White, 1979.
Whiteaker, Larry H. “Civil War.” In Tennessee Encyclopedia. Nashville: Tennessee Historical
Society, 2017. http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/civil-war/.
Wilburn, Major. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 22, 2005.
Wiley, Bell Irvin. Southern Negroes, 1861-1865. with a New Foreword by C. Vann Woodward.
New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965.
Wilkerson, Isabel. The Warmth of Other Suns. New York: Random House, 2010.
Williams, Heather A. Self-Taught: African American Education in Slavery and Freedom. Chapel
Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2005.
Williams, Jesse. Interview by Ann Smithwick, Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders.
Whiteville, Tennessee, November 19, 2005.
215
Woods, Jerry Wayne. “The Julius Rosenwald Fund School Building Program: A Saga in the
Growth and Development of African American Education in Selected West Tennessee
Communities.” Master’s thesis, University of Mississippi, 1995.
Young, Patricia A. “Roads to Travel: A Historical Look at the Freedmen’s Torchlight-An
African American Contribution to 19th-Century Instructional Technologies.” Journal of
Black Studies 31, no. 5 (2001): 671–98. https://doi.org/10.1177/002193470103100509.
216
Appendices
Appendix A: Timeline of the Allen-White School
1823 First schools in Hardeman County established (for White students only); first
documented teachers were Edwin Crawford and Henry Thompson
1826 Six “academies” established for White students in Hardeman County, includes
Bolivar Male Academy, Bolivar Female Academy, Lafayette Male and Female
Academy, Enon Academy, New Castle Female Institute, Middleburg Male and
Female Academy
1867 Tennessee Public School Law passes requiring civil districts establish special
schools for Black children when the official population exceeded 25 potential
students
1873 Tennessee Parent Act (aka the School Law) enables private schools to acquire
public funding by teaching elementary pupils in the district, created segregated
public schools
1874 Public school system established in Hardeman County, elementary schools across
the county established
1875 First academy established specifically in Whiteville called the Whiteville Institute
for Boys and Girls (White students only)
1891 New education legislation in Tennessee leads to the dissolution of the academies,
establishes county support via taxation for public education at the primary and
secondary levels
1904 Elcanaan Missionary Baptist Church relocates to Whiteville (later becomes
integral part of Allen-White curriculum and community)
1905 Jesse C. Allen founds the Jesse C. Allen School for Colored Children in the
former Whiteville Masonic Lodge, first school for Black children in Whiteville
1906 Enrollment for the Jesse C. Allen School for Colored Children doubles from 100
to 200 pupils
1909 General Education Bill in Tennessee consolidates vocational education with
regular public-school curriculum, provides vocational education in two-year high
schools in Tennessee counties
1910 Whiteville Masonic Lodge burned and rebuilt; Allen’s school classes conducted
on first floor for Black students
217
Appendix A: Timeline of the Allen-White School
1914 Hardeman County public high schools established, and Hardeman County School
Board formed; Eight total high schools open catering to White students during
1914-1915 schoolyear, including Whiteville High School (no high schools for
Black students)
1917-1918 Efforts begin to relocate and expand school begin after visit from Dr. George
Washington Carver educated locals about the Rosenwald Fund
1919 Board of Trustees among Black community in Whiteville established to seek
construction aid for a new school from the Rosenwald Fund via Rosenwald
Tennessee State Agent Samuel L. Smith (Committee headed by Principal Allen
and local Black physician Dr. G.A. Shelton)
Local Black landowner Clay Crowder donates ¼ acre of land in March to the
Hardeman County School Board who then purchases 3 more acres for new school
location (deeded October 17, 1919)
Board of Trustees obtains a $4,000 loan from the Whiteville Savings Bank in
September
Construction begins on new school in late October
1920 The Rosenwald Fund donates $1,600 in January for the new county training
school’s construction
Jesse C. Allen School for Colored Children renamed the Hardeman County
Training School (HCTS) and begins operating out of new school location in
February (before construction is complete), grades 1-8 offered
Principal Jesse C. Allen passes away in August, Luther L. Campbell of Knoxville
replaces him as principal
Elcanaan Missionary Baptist Church relocates to land donated by community
leader Jesse Norment neighboring the Allen-White campus
Construction completed in the fall on Hardeman County Training School’s first
building Dorris Hall with initial $4,000 grant and additional funding totaling
$14,200; it became the first brick Rosenwald school in Tennessee (and possibly
the entire South)
1922 Principal Campbell resigned (possibly dismissed) for failing to raise money for
construction loan repayment, George W. Thomas of Chattanooga replaces him as
principal
218
Appendix A: Timeline of the Allen-White School
1925 New Tennessee Public School Law unifies all schools enacted since the 1873
Law, encourages county boards to establish and maintain junior and senior high
schools where the need is present, regardless of race (enables HCTS to soon
become an accredited public high school)
1928 James H. White of Gallatin applies for principalship at the recommendation of
State Agent O.H. Bernard, begins at Hardeman County Training School in the fall
after being asked by Principal Thomas to replace him
Hardeman County Training School’s first annual Thanksgiving fundraiser,
organized by Principal White, grosses $1,179 to help repay construction loan
1929 $3,128 raised at second annual Thanksgiving fundraiser to complete loan
repayment, mortgage burning ceremony held on school campus with honorary
guest County Superintendent Katherine Ingram and state agent Dudley Tanner
Water added to Dorris Hall and electricity provided by Christmas to the school
campus by the West Tennessee Electric and Power Company Association
1930 Two Black high schools formally established in Hardeman County public school
system, one of which is the Hardeman County Training School; accredited for
two years of high school education
W.E. Turner, State Director of Negro Education in Tennessee, visits Hardeman
County Training School, recommends additional construction and curriculum for
further development of the school
Ingram Hall, a two-story frame dorm for girls and teachers, built by trade
department students
Howse Hall built by trade department students which houses science department,
agriculture department, and a school shop
1931 Hardeman County Training School renamed Allen-White School; two more
grades added for a total of four years of secondary education, grades 1-12 now
offered (high school referred to as Allen-White High School)
1933 First graduating class of Allen-White High School includes thirteen students (ten
of which attended college)
Allen-White PTA purchases a school bus to transport students across the county
to campus for $1 per month
219
Appendix A: Timeline of the Allen-White School
1934 PTA pays for construction of three new buildings on campus: a gymnasium, a
sandwich shop, and a boys dormitory; PTA buys a second bus for athletic
organizations and other traveling clubs
1936 National Youth Administration (NYA) work-study program established on
campus with New Deal funding
Dorm built on campus to house NYA boarding students
Survey of Hardeman County schools reveals 82 total schools, many of which are
rural one- and two-room segregated schools for both Black and White children
Local community member Austin Fentress buys a bus and begins transporting
more students to Allen-White, Hardeman County Board of Education steps in to
support operation and labor costs
1938 PTA purchases two-acres of land from Principal J.H. White on March 10 for the
construction of Cheek Hall (to house home economics department, agriculture
classes, health classes, a laundry, and a clinic)
Wealthy Nashville businessman John H. Cheek donates $3,000 to purchase
construction materials for Cheek Hall; community donates $2,500 toward
building efforts at Annual Thanksgiving Rally; Detroit lumber man W.B. Chase
donates windows and doors for the building
1938 Allen-White High School men’s basketball team wins National High School
Basketball Tournament for Colored Students at Tuskegee Institute
1939 Hardeman County public school system hires independent contractors to drive
school buses, provides transportation for students
1940 February 19 fire destroys Cheek Hall before construction is completed; J.H.
White and PTA immediately begin new fundraising efforts for the building
Hardeman County school board votes to establish a transportation bus system
incorporated into the public school system
Education Policy Commission rates Allen-White School as one of four leading
schools in the U.S. focused on “citizenship”
220
Appendix A: Timeline of the Allen-White School
1941 John D. Rockefeller III and other northern philanthropists visit Allen-White,
Rockefeller recommends General Education Board grant the school $7,500 for
Cheek Hall reconstruction efforts
Cheek Hall reconstruction, and other campus construction projects begin with
NYA student labor and both public and private funding; construction halts when
the NYA program dissolves on campus after Pearl Harbor and national focus
shifts to World War II
Allen-White High School women’s basketball team wins National High School
Basketball Tournament for Colored Students at Tuskegee Institute
1945 Additional philanthropic organizations donate funds to complete Cheek Hall,
including the General Education Board, Erwin Freund Foundation, Marshall Field
Foundation, Phelps-Stokes Foundation, and Kellogg Foundation
1946 Allen-White Chosen to participate in Fisk University’s Southern Rural Life
Program under sociologist Charles S. Johnson during the summer
1947 Agnes L. Tierney Hall and Gilbert Hall dedicated in November
1948 Cheek Hall completed and dedicated on April 22
Principal White leaves principalship to become resident of Lane College in
Jackson, Tennessee, Carl L. Seets replaces him
New classrooms and Business Department added along with typing and shorthand
curriculum
1949 Allen-White accredited for two more years, becomes an optional six-year school
for additional training
1952 Principal Seets resigns, Major A. Jarrett, former student of Allen-White, replaces
him as principal
General Business and driver’s education classes added to curriculum
1954 Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court decision rules that U.S. state laws
regarding segregation are unconstitutional
1964 10-classroom brick elementary school constructed at north of Dorris Hall
Civil Rights Act outlaws discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or
national origin
221
Appendix A: Timeline of the Allen-White School
1966-1967 Allen White Elementary School created under Principal C. Elma Motley
1969 Evelyn C. Robertson Jr. becomes principal of Elementary Department, replacing
C. Elma Motley
1970 Hardeman County Schools formally integrate, Allen-White High School closed
after spring semester ends; Former Allen-White students bussed to either Bolivar
or Middleton High Schools beginning in the fall 1970-1971 schoolyear
Allen White Elementary School renamed Whiteville Northside Elementary
School; Former high school Principal Jarrett replaces Principal Robertson as
elementary school principal
1971 Cheek Hall construction materials purchased by local businessowner N.E. Schultz
for new usage, building burns in February (presumably by arson) before materials
could be moved
1974 Whiteville Northside Elementary School officially closes on former Allen-White
campus and students integrate into the new Whiteville Elementary School
building
Dorris Hall used as a cosmetology classroom and lab around this time
1976-1980 Dorris Hall used as a community cannery during U.S. War on Poverty initiative
1982 Former Allen-White School campus purchased by the Whiteville Business
Enterprise, LLC. to develop buildings into local Black-owned small businesses
1990s Campus purchased by Elcanaan Baptist Church and restoration efforts took hold
2005 Allen-White School listed on the National Register and Tennessee Register of
Historic Places
2008 Elcanaan Community Hope Organization (ECHO) formed to spearhead Allen-
White conservation efforts
2012 Allen-White’s original Rosenwald building, Dorris Hall, burned by arson on May
20
th
around 2:30am
Architectural plans of reconstructed building created, engineering survey
determines building foundations still architecturally sound
222
Appendix A: Timeline of the Allen-White School
2016 ECHO receives $90k State of Tennessee appropriation with help of state
assembly member and former student Johnny Shaw, represents the start of the
Allen-White Capital Campaign
2018 ECHO partners with project management firm Jones-Bridget Consulting Group
with the help of the Southwest Tennessee Development District
2019 ECHO prepares the Allen-White Center for Education and Cultural Advancement
Capital Campaign Case statement by project development consultant, ECHO
Officers, and Allen-White coalition leaders
Echo receives a second $50k grant from State of Tennessee again through State
Representative Johnny Shaw
2022 Fundraising for the reconstruction project ongoing at time of publication
223
Appendix B: Description and Plan of the Allen-White School by Christine Rhodes ‘48
224
Appendix B: Description and Plan of the Allen-White School by Christine Rhodes ‘48
225
Appendix B: Description and Plan of the Allen-White School by Christine Rhodes ‘48
226
Appendix B: Description and Plan of the Allen-White School by Christine Rhodes ‘48
227
Appendix B: Description and Plan of the Allen-White School by Christine Rhodes ‘48
228
Appendix B: Description and Plan of the Allen-White School by Christine Rhodes ‘48
229
Appendix C: Mental Maps by Former Allen-White Students
230
Appendix C: Mental Maps by Former Allen-White Students
231
Appendix C: Mental Maps by Former Allen-White Students
232
Appendix C: Mental Maps by Former Allen-White Students
233
Appendix C: Mental Maps by Former Allen-White Students
234
Appendix C: Mental Maps by Former Allen-White Students
235
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Ernest Tisdale. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Major Wilburn. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
236
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Samuel Bufford. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Beatrice Spencer. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
237
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Hugholene Robertson. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Georgia Crowder. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
238
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Cleaster Sain. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Jesse Rhodes. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
239
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Christine Beard. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Fredell Harris. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
240
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Edna Dotson. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Ruby and Mabel Andrews. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
241
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Willie E. Spencer. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Robert and Hortense Parham. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
242
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Hortense Parham. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Josie Brown. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
243
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Lois Harris. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Loyce Shockley. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
244
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Jesse Norment. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Ruthie Jarmon. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
245
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Glenn Dotson. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Group portrait of former Allen-White students. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
246
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Group portrait of former Allen-White students. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Group portrait of former Allen-White students. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
247
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Group portrait of former Allen-White students. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Group portrait of former Allen-White students. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
248
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Georgia Crowder. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Ruby and Mabel Andrews. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
249
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Josie Brown. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Jesse Norment. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
250
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Edna Dotson. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Jesse Wiliams. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
251
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Patricia Crisp. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Loyce Shockley. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
252
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Lois Harris. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Fredell Harris. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
253
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Glenn Dotson. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Cleaster Sain. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
254
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Jesse Rhodes. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Ernest Tisdale. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
255
Appendix D: Rosenwald Revisited: Wisdom from the Elders Allen-White Photographs
Evelyn C. Robertson. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
Hugholene. Robertson. Copyright Ann Smithwick. 2005.
256
Appendix E: Historic Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
“Hardeman Co., Allen-White School,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes
Monthly Report, 1939. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-
1942.
“Boys of Allen-White cleaning ditches,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes
Monthly Report, March 30, 1939. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse
Photos, 1938-1942.
257
Appendix E: Historic Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
“Graduates,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report, March 30, 1939.
Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
“Boys working school road,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report,
March 30, 1939. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
258
Appendix E: Historic Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
“Maids,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report, March 30, 1939.
Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
“Maids,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report, March 30, 1939.
Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
259
Appendix E: Historic Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
“Dr. Wright’s Maid,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report, March
30, 1939. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
“Beautifying front of school at Allen-White,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes
Monthly Report, April 30, 1939. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse
Photos, 1938-1942.
260
Appendix E: Historic Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
“Boys making window sash,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report,
April 30, 1939. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
“Equipment for classifying schools,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly
Report, April 30, 1939. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-
1942.
261
Appendix E: Historic Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
“Dental clinic, Allen-White,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report,
April 30, 1939. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
“Blue ribbon guests,” photographed by an unknown Jeanes Fund Supervisor for the Jeanes Monthly Report, May 31,
1939. Courtesy of the Tennessee State Archives, Record Group 273A, Schoolhouse Photos, 1938-1942.
262
Appendix F: Modern Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
Dorris Hall, view northwest. Photo by the author, 2022.
Dorris Hall front (south) façade, view north. Photo by the author, 2022.
263
Appendix F: Modern Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
Dorris Hall interior, view south. Photo by the author, 2022.
Dorris Hall interior entry, view south. Photo by the author, 2022.
264
Appendix F: Modern Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
Dorris Hall east façade, view west. Photo by the author, 2022.
Dorris Hall east façade, view west. Photo by the author, 2022.
265
Appendix F: Modern Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
1964 elementary school building, view northwest. Photo by the author, 2022.
1964 elementary school building east façade, view northwest. Photo by the author, 2022.
266
Appendix F: Modern Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
1964 elementary school building interior central corridor, view north. Photo by the author, 2022.
1964 elementary school building classroom, view northeast. Photo by the author, 2022.
267
Appendix F: Modern Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
Possible foundation of non-extant shed, view northwest. Photo by the author, 2022.
Former location of northernmost recreation and agriculture fields, view north. Photo by the author, 2022.
268
Appendix F: Modern Photos of the Allen-White School Campus
Oak tree remains on site of former campus playground, view west. Photo by the author, 2022.
Neighboring Elcanaan Baptist Church (west façade), view east. Photo by the author, 2022.
Abstract (if available)
Linked assets
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
Conceptually similar
PDF
Legacy business program implementation in American urban immigrant neighborhoods: a case study of Little Tokyo and Chinatown, Los Angeles
PDF
Not so Little Armenia: conserving Armenian heritage sites in Los Angeles
PDF
Mapping heritage justice in the city of Los Angeles
PDF
Reconstruction right now: conserving vernacular heritage in Beaufort, South Carolina as an act of reconstructing preservation practice
PDF
Using the UNESCO Historic Urban Landscape framework: a case study of the Pico-Union neighborhood
PDF
The restaurant that started it all: the hidden heritage of San Francisco’s Fisherman's Wharf
PDF
Conservation 'on the natch': maintenance and remembrance at the Alcoholism Center for Women
PDF
Managing change on Newbury Street: a case study analysis
PDF
Drag culture of Los Angeles: intangible heritage through ephemeral places
PDF
The lasting significance of the Naval Defense Station in World War II San Pedro
PDF
Being a part of the narrative: how can we preserve Black heritage in the U.S. South while mitigating violence and facilitating change?
PDF
Identifying and conserving Pacoima: a heritage conservation study of a minority enclave in the San Fernando Valley
PDF
Reconstructing Eden: the Armenian community of Yettem, CA
PDF
Heritage in practice: a study of two urban rivers
PDF
The tent, camel, and coffee: safeguarding the intangible cultural heritage of the Rum Village Bedouins
PDF
Deconstruction: a tool for sustainable conservation
PDF
Historic preservation in the United States Air Force: exploring new frontiers
PDF
The ambivalence of conserving Busan’s colonial heritage
PDF
Preserving California City: an exploration into the city plan preservation of a mid-century, master-planned community
PDF
Mobilizing heritage conservation as a tool for urban resilience: linkages and recommendations
Asset Metadata
Creator
Smithwick, Brannon Marie
(author)
Core Title
Educating generations: the legacy and future of the Allen-White School campus, a Rosenwald School in Whiteville, Tennessee
School
School of Architecture
Degree
Master of Heritage Conservation / Master of Planning
Degree Program
Heritage Conservation
Degree Conferral Date
2023-05
Publication Date
01/30/2023
Defense Date
03/21/2023
Publisher
University of Southern California
(original),
University of Southern California. Libraries
(digital)
Tag
African American education,Allen-White School,Black education,Booker T. Washington,Dorris Hall,Evelyn C. Robertson,Freedmen's Schools' arson,Hardeman County,Heritage Conservation,Historic Preservation,James H. White,Jesse C. Allen,Julius Rosenwald,Mary S. Hoffschwelle,National Youth Administration,NYA,OAI-PMH Harvest,Rosenwald Fund,Rosenwald Schools' Rosenwald School,Tennessee Education,Whiteville
Format
theses
(aat)
Language
English
Contributor
Electronically uploaded by the author
(provenance)
Advisor
Sandmeier, Trudi (
committee chair
), Drake Reitan, Meredith (
committee member
), Platt, Jay (
committee member
)
Creator Email
brannonmarie@gmail.com,smithwic@usc.edu
Permanent Link (DOI)
https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-oUC112723820
Unique identifier
UC112723820
Identifier
etd-SmithwickB-11455.pdf (filename)
Legacy Identifier
etd-SmithwickB-11455
Document Type
Thesis
Format
theses (aat)
Rights
Smithwick, Brannon Marie
Internet Media Type
application/pdf
Type
texts
Source
20230201-usctheses-batch-1005
(batch),
University of Southern California
(contributing entity),
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
(collection)
Access Conditions
The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the author, as the original true and official version of the work, but does not grant the reader permission to use the work if the desired use is covered by copyright. It is the author, as rights holder, who must provide use permission if such use is covered by copyright. The original signature page accompanying the original submission of the work to the USC Libraries is retained by the USC Libraries and a copy of it may be obtained by authorized requesters contacting the repository e-mail address given.
Repository Name
University of Southern California Digital Library
Repository Location
USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA
Repository Email
cisadmin@lib.usc.edu
Tags
African American education
Allen-White School
Black education
Booker T. Washington
Dorris Hall
Evelyn C. Robertson
Freedmen's Schools' arson
Hardeman County
James H. White
Jesse C. Allen
Julius Rosenwald
Mary S. Hoffschwelle
National Youth Administration
NYA
Rosenwald Fund
Rosenwald Schools' Rosenwald School
Tennessee Education
Whiteville