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1 introduc tion Facts Are Sometimes Stranger Than Fiction When the Ohio legislature gathered in Columbus to convene its 1842–43 session, the first pressing order of business was debate over a proposal to revoke the charter of the Oberlin Collegiate Institute. One critic of the school from southern Ohio described the largely abolitionist faculty and students there as a “great maelstrom of seditious faction . . . exerting a more potent influence in exciting sectional animosities . . . than any, I may say all, all other malcontent institutions in the U.S.”1 Other lawmakers seeking revocation called Oberlinites in general a “banditti of lawbreakers,” “negro stealers supported by enemies of this country abroad, and emissaries at home,” and a “thoroughfare for slaves en route to Canada.”2 Still, as anti-abolitionist lawmakers heaped abuse upon the name “Oberlin ” and sought to crush its spirit through legislation, a small handful of more-sympathetic politicians sought to get beyond the prejudicial cant and vague anecdotes offered up by the school’s detractors. On what specific events or facts, they asked, did critics base their censure? Just what did the conservatives mean by such imprecise terms as “infamous”?3 “Why Sir,” Oberlin’s harshest critic bellowed matter-of-factly from the floor, “the evidence of the iniquitous character of that institution is as broad as the light of day; and those who control it, glory in their villainy.” He believed it sufficient and damning evidence that “rumor, with her thousand tongues, has published the enormities of that institution all over the State and the Union.” “Such being the fact,” he argued, “it was folly to waste time debating details.”4 Despite the abuse, the Oberlin Collegiate Institute did not lose its educational charter that legislative term, nor would it in years to come, and 2 introduction its safety may have been partially shielded by critics’ vague accusations regarding just what “Oberlin” stood for and what the town and organically connected school of the same name had done and were doing for the abolition of slavery. However, exactly what was assumed regarding Oberlin in the nineteenth century has been largely lost to American historical memory. The result has been regular but brief appearances in historical narratives of a place and institution of apparently tremendous importance yet very few indicators of why and how it earned that lofty reputation. Historians have largely taken their cues regarding Oberlin from the vague and loose characterizations that the school and the town attracted during the antebellum years. The radical reputation the community earned in its first three decades has allowed scholars to confidently use its name as a shorthand to denote zealous abolitionism, religiosity, and social reform before hurriedly moving on to other topics. At the other extreme in this regard are histories of Oberlin College mostly written from the 1880s to 1940s that simply take Oberlin notables at their word and produce an overly romantic picture of the town and school that has been uncritically perpetuated. This book gives substance to the symbolic idea of “the Oberlin,” as British abolitionist and community booster Harriet Martineau referred to the town and school together in 1840, and fully examines the vital significance of the Oberlin community in the fight to end slavery, a story neglected for too long.5 Oberlin was, beyond question, one of the most important communities in the abolitionist movement. In its symbolic and practical importance, it rivaled larger and more well-known eastern reform centers. It quietly achieved this distinction because of the unique circumstances in its early years that gathered an unprecedented multiracial and cohesive abolitionist population in the Ohio wilderness that maintained a fever pitch of reform agitation throughout the antebellum period. Yet rivalry was never Oberlin’s intention. Rather than considering the “perfection” of Oberlin an end in itself, the community would have rightfully considered itself, in the words of sociologist Aldon Morris (though in the context of a different civil rights struggle), a “movement center” where reformers “developed an interrelated set of protest leaders, organizations, and followers who collectively define the common ends of the group, devise necessary tactics and strategies . . . and engage in actions designed to attain the goals of the group.”6 Oberlin was founded as a utopian community whose sole mission was to save souls and prepare the world for the coming millennium of Christ.7 Within two years, the community of only a few hundred residents had begun sending abolitionist missionaries out across the West in numbers [18.217.228...

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