Many Names, One Place
“The Fortress of Faith”
Bob Jones University or BJU, a very conservative religious university currently located in beautiful Greenville, South Carolina. The university got its name from its founder, Bob Jones, Sr., who was a traveling evangelist in the early 20th century, a contemporary of Billy Sunday and musician Homer Rodeheaver. Subsequent BJU presidents were Bob Jones, Jr., Bob Jones III, and Stephen Jones — Stephen Jones was the last of the Jones lineage to hold the office of president. Unfortunately, Stephen Jones had to resign due to health problems. In 2014, Steve Pettit was the first “non-Jones” president. In March 2023, Dr. Pettit announced his resignation and BJU is currently president-less.
Just this week (August 8, 2023) I received an email from my alma mater beginning with the sentence, “The Bob Jones University Board of Trustees is preparing to launch the search for the University’s next president.”
The feeling I get is that there is an undercurrent of dissatisfaction with the changes and direction that has been implemented at the university under the leadership of Steve Pettit. The dissatisfaction comes not from students, but from graduates, BJU Alumni, looking back and seeing a different university. So, this new president must possess “a personal awareness and respect for the history of BJU and a strong personal commitment to provide continuity in the advancement of its mission and the vision of its founder.”
In other words, we need to get back to where we started from. Reassess some of the changes. And repair the aging walls of The Fortress.
World's Most Unusual
For me, the last two years of the 1970s were spent at Bob Jones University. To say they were difficult years would be an understatement. At one point (my sophomore year) my parents were actually scared that I may harm myself. I felt cut-off from everything I knew and loved — our farm, the animals, driving the truck and the tractor — music that I loved was forbidden and TVs were not allowed. Due to my talent for accumulating demerits, I came very close to expulsion my sophomore year. My tally danced around the 100 demerit mark — 150 demerits and you were expelled.
As the 1980s dawned, BJU allowed me to become an upper-classman. My junior year was (pretty much) without incident. As a junior I was allowed to have a car on campus, so I managed to get a job in town, in Greenville, so I could spend more time off campus than on. And I did. My demerit count for that year was well below 50. I even went to summer school to reduce my senior year credit load.
My senior year was the exact opposite of what I expected. One of my roommates had obviously spent time in the Gestapo and enforced every nick-picking rule. It was like living with Frank Burns — only not as funny. Academically, I never had any trouble. In fact, some of it was easy. My grades were always high, I made the “Dean’s List” several times and I found the teaching and the education to be well above par. What I had trouble with were the lifestyle components. And that’s what brought me down.
Jokes. Yes, jokes. That’s what got me expelled three weeks before graduating my senior year. I saw a “want ad” in the local paper…
“BI-LO GROCERY MEAT DEPT – Experienced boner needed”
You can imagine where I went with this one. I said in front of both roommates something about “qualifications” — yeah. It’s funny, right? Second joke was a line I heard in a movie. I said:
“That sticks out like a turd in a punch bowl.”
The last few things were more sarcasm and disparagement than anything else. I referred to our esteemed leader (at the time) Dr. Bob Jones, Jr*. as hurting me on my résumé and telling my sister over the phone that they (BJU) bugs the phones. All of that was made known and/or overheard, so all that, along with my past record got me the boot on April 23, 1982. Three weeks — 21 days before graduation.
*Just a few days (April 2, 1982) before my remark, Dr. Bob Jones, Jr. had prayed an Old Testament curse on national TV against Secretary of State, General Alexander Haig. I thought it was the silliest thing ever. Old men and their egos.
One of the Chosen
There were a lot of us BJU Misfits and we tended to find each other and run together. We would laugh at “The Chosen Ones” — the kids of Big Name Preachers, the “Who’s Who” in the yearbook, the Class Officers, the Pretty Boys and Pretty Girls that looked Christian enough to represent such a fine institution as BJU. I never considered myself anything but a BJU Misfit — and I never tried to fit in.
Creamed eggs — that’s what it was like. Looking forward to breakfast — and this is what you serve me? Chicken abortion? Snot and eggs?
Okay, I still hold the tiniest of grudges.
Again I ask, fried, scrambled, boiled — but — why CREAMED?
I ask, and for the love of all that is holy, the chickens ask!