Down Among the Fundamentalists (Part 3)

I was dropped, literally, in front of the BJU Administration Building on the first day of September 1970. As I waved goodbye to my parents, I saw my little brother Lowell making faces in the back window of my dad's Galaxy 500. That is until my mom turned around and slapped him on the back of the head.

I never felt more alone in my life. I made my way back to my dorm.

My dormitory was named Bib Graves. (FYI: Bibb Graves [April 1, 1873–March 14, 1942] was a Democratic politician and the 38th Governor of Alabama. His first name was David, but he went by "Bibb," probably to remind the voters of Alabama that he was a descendant of Bill Bibb, the first governor of Alabama.) I lived in a room with four other roommates. Yes, there were five of us sharing a narrow eight by twelve nook, bunk beds on one side, a shared desk on the other, and a sink in the corner. I would not be surprised if South Carolina provided more square footage per prisoner at the Allendale Correction Institution.

For the next nine months, while I was a student, I attended mandatory church service every day, and twice on Sunday. During the week there was Chapel. On Saturday there was a morning service. On Sunday there was the regular church service, plus Sunday school, and vespers. I guess that makes three times on Sunday. (I wonder. Since it was mandatory, does it count? You know, in the Big Hereafter. Probably not.)

Say what you want about the Fundamentalists, they take their Bible seriously. And not just any translation. The preferred text of the born again, Bible believing Baptist is the King James version. I found this interesting. The KJV takes work to read. It's not an easy task to study Jeremiah, or Ezra, or even the Gospel of John for that matter. Though Fundamentalists claim to take the Bible literally, that is simply not so. There are definitely figurative passages in the Book. What they mean, I suppose, is that they believe it to be God's word and give great respect to scripture.

A true Fundamentalist would not even be political in the sense that the majority culture would understand. Sure, a fundamentalist may vote conservative, but tax policy and social reform are not his motivating force. What really concerns a Fundamentalist is his relationship with God. It's prayer, not protest.

BJU's rules were omnipresent. The claim was made that every rule on campus could be justified through scripture. Well, that hardly made the situation better. There was a strict dress code. The guys had the wear ties till noon while on campus, and always wear them when off campus. The gals wore dresses when in public view. What they wore when they were out of sight by the general public, I couldn't guess. Reading material was strictly censored. No Mad magazine. Period. And music was limited to classical, semi-classical and serious religious music. Yes, religious music had to be serious. None of that wigged out, non serious gospel music.

And you can forget about listening to Herb Alpert and the brass.

Next: Down Among the Fundamentalists (Part 4) The Good, The Bad and the Not So Hot

Down Among the Fundamentalists (Part 2)

In September 1970, Bob Jones University was in the center of a growing maelstrom. The culture was rapidly changing and adjusting itself. A flood of feminism, anti-war marches, rock and roll music and general hedonism poured from the general culture. Bob Jones University stood against these changes, anchoring itself to the Bible. At that time Bob Jones, Sr, the founder, had been dead for several years. His son, Bob Jones, Jr., was large and in charge. He was president of the place. There was also a Bob Jones III on campus. I'm not sure what his official position was at the time, but I'm fairly certain, given his several talents, nepotism was involved.

Bob Jones College was founded in Panama City, FL, in 1927 by, of course, Bob Jones. Before turning to a career in education, Bob Jones was an itinerant preacher, a contemporary of Billy Sunday. He was a kind of Billy Graham of his day (Graham attended Bob Jones University and would have been the school's superstar had not a disagreement resulted in Graham's excommunication from Fundamentalism.)

What does Bob Jones University stand for? I think the Bob Jones creed pretty much sums up the essentials.

I believe in the inspiration of the Bible (both the Old and the New Testaments);
the creation of man by the direct act of God;
the incarnation and virgin birth of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ;
His identification as the Son of God;
His vicarious atonement for the sins of mankind by the shedding of His blood on the cross;
the resurrection of His body from the tomb;
His power to save men from sin;
the new birth through the regeneration by the Holy Spirit;
and the gift of eternal life by the grace of God.

The funny thing is, I pretty much believe all of this. I did then and I do now. What I had a hard time dealing with was the harsh attitude of the place, the confining rules, the over all combativeness of the university pulpit, the lack of humility, and, the worst transgression of all, overt racism and bigotry.

Well, I guess nobody's perfect.

In fairness, times were different then. For a while it did seem as if the world was coming apart, hence the combativeness. And there was still, in 1970, a good chunk of the old south's culture permeating the campus. Yes, it is true. Blacks- African Americans- were not permitted to attend the school, but it wasn't like they were lining up trying to get in. What was truly obnoxious was BJU's claim that the Bible supported their racist policies.

The Bible supports no such thing.

Later, the admission policy was changed. And in 2000, Bob Jones III, then the Chancellor of the University, ended the ban against interracial dating. I saw him do this in a televised interview on a news show. Live. There was even a hint of humility eking through his facial expression. Times change.

Here at the very end of the twentieth century, Bob Jones University was about to enter it.

That September I arrived on campus, a freshly minted graduate from a suburban high school in northeast Ohio. I attended the local United Methodist Church. And I knew several hymns completely by heart.

I had no idea of what I was walking into.

Down Among the Fundamentalists (Part 1)

All my life I have been too passive. Rather than take charge, it's been far easier being a passenger. I've let things happen to me.

I let Bob Jones University happen to me.

No one controls what generation they are born into. It was my luck to be a child of the fifties also known as the Baby Boomers. Or perhaps, given our materialist bent, the Pepsi Generation is a better title. We started out as members of the peanut gallery on the Howdy Doodie Show and by the time we were eighteen we had morphed into what seemed to be a new sub-species of humanity: Homo Funditus Confusus (the totally confused man.) Some of us became long haired hippie dippy freaks with a bong in one hand and a tambourine in the other. A few of us devolved into militant Marxists out to torch every paneled basement in America. Most of us read The Catcher in the Rye and the poetry of ee cummings and through that modest intellectual achievement thought we had discovered the secret of the universe.

We weren't sure what we were supposed to do, but we knew we had to do something.

Rather than follow the well worn and tested truths of previous generations such as working hard, playing safe, keeping your nose clean, trying to make something of yourself, we, the boomers, pretty much scotched those boring ideas and centered our lives around Madison Avenue-like jingles. "Make Love Not War" was our motto. And what passed for philosophy could be written on a Peter Max poster: "You know, man, can't we just, like, love each other, you know?" Note, there's not a three syllable word in that sentence.

Is it even a complete, coherent thought?

My goose was cooked when President Lyndon Johnson, for whatever political and/or psychological reasons, brought the Vietnam War to the United States. There is some controversy about who really got us into a land war in Southeast Asia. Some blame Kennedy, some Eisenhower, some FDR. But Johnson dropped in more than half a million men (less both Bill Clinton and myself.) LBJ took the war to a level where he couldn't back out. If you are looking for the instigator in chief, look no further than LBJ.

Not wanting to go through Congress, Johnson decided to draft boys directly into the fight. Then, to placate everyone he created a system of college draft deferments. Before you could say "protest movement" college campi across the US became havens for anti-war activists.

It was all so predictable, but then overtly idiotic foreign policy is the price we pay for letting academics influence government. These inhabitants of the Ivory Tower seem to be in a perpetual state of war against common sense, their only weapons being newly minted, untested social theories and a superior demure.

Why do we still listen to these guys?

By the spring of 1970, Vietnam rattled onward. No conversation was complete unless one weighed in on the war. By then the evening news had turned against the conflict so every night it seemed there was some new outrage to chew on. I mean, Jeez Louise, it got to the point where you wanted it all to just go away so you could have a normal conversation.

And then Nixon announced incursions into Cambodia. Turns out the North Vietnamese were hiding troops and weapons just across the border knowing they would be safe from America's guns. Nixon's decision to conduct the Vietnam war as if it were a real war rather than a Marxist passion play was simple common sense. Naturally, the intellectual class was enraged. College campuses exploded.

And there were protests at Kent State. A building was burned. Governor Rhodes called in the National Guard. Shots were fired. Students were killed.

My parents watched it all from a small black and white portable television set in their kitchen. That was the moment I got flipped out of the frying pan of Fate. My parents were determined to keep me out of the fray (although sometimes my mom acted as if she wanted me to enlist which, logically, would have placed me dead center IN the fray.)

That's why they wanted me to go to Bob Jones University. They seemed to have things under control down there. It was a no nonsense institution in an era over running with nonsense.

Looking back, I know now that when they pushed Bob Jones University, I should have pushed back. But then, pushing back is not in my nature. I would rather listen to Herb Alpert than attend a Rolling Stones concert. A root beer float seemed far more enjoyable than puffing on a doobey, and as for protests... well, that's simply not my style. The closest I ever came to a war protest was following the bouncing ball on Sing Along With Mitch while his chorus sang Puff the Magic Dragon.

And so I caved.
Bob Jones University it would be.
After all, I would be far away from home in Greenville, South Carolina.
On my own.
Sort of.
That would be cool, right?
I'd have a dorm room and roommates and communal showering.
I mean, how bad could it get?