In opining that Vanderbilt’s apology to Rev. James M. Lawson, Jr. “should have been a solitary, solemn moment” rather than “a perpetual plea for complete forgiveness,” Hustler Editor-in-Chief Michael Warren missed the larger issue. The faculty appointment, endowed chair, painting and numerous special events dedicated to Lawson do not constitute a “means of retribution” to punish the university for expelling him in 1960. They are tools for communicating Vanderbilt’s new, more inclusive identity.
Warren is correct in his observation that few, if any, people who work or study at Vanderbilt today played a role in Lawson’s dismissal 48 years ago. However, this is beside the point. The injustice committed against Lawson resulted from more than just a group of individuals who made a terrible decision. It extended from a way of thinking embedded within the very fabric of America that also permeated through much of Vanderbilt.
This way of thinking held that blacks should be invisible members of society. At Vanderbilt, blacks were permitted to quietly cook food, sweep floors, cut lawns and — beginning in 1953 — attend classes. But they were not to stand up and demand their full civil rights as if they were actually first-class citizens. This was the transgression for which the Board of Trust ousted Lawson.
While those days of rigid de jure segregation are gone, their residue has remained present long afterward through the paucity of black names and images found in the public history written into Vanderbilt’s monuments. These monuments comprise an instrumental part of the university’s reward system for students, faculty and alumni; those who make groundbreaking contributions to Vanderbilt and the world have an opportunity to be recognized with campus distinctions that immortalize them. Such honors include having one’s name enshrined on buildings, scholarship titles, streets, annual events and statues.
Collectively, those symbols constitute a public transcript expressing Vanderbilt’s heritage and highest values. For most of the university’s existence, blacks were excluded from this transcript. Since past generations did not consider blacks to be full members of the Vanderbilt community, they did not give blacks the honors they reserved for those whom they recognized as the best members.
Vanderbilt’s tributes to Lawson are a critical part of correcting the omissions of the past and redefining what it means to be a Commodore. His life’s work helped change the course of American history so the phrase “We the people” could come closer to truly meaning “all the people.” He deserves to be lifted up as an example for Vanderbilt’s men and women to emulate.
Furthermore, Warren should understand Lawson was not invited to join the faculty in order to be a one-dimensional object for the university’s apologies. Vanderbilt asked him to become a teacher to the entire institution and engage it in a forward-looking conversation on race, religion, nonviolence and social justice.
Expressing regret and looking toward the future are not mutually exclusive. With its current efforts to honor and learn from Lawson, Vanderbilt’s administration has taken commendable steps to accomplish both.
— Larry Rivers is Ph.D. candidate in the College of Arts and Science. He can be reached at larry.o.rivers@vanderbilt.edu.
