By Darcy Gifford '91

He arrived in Adrian in the fall of 1935 carrying only a tiny suitcase crammed with clothes. Seven dollars were secured in his pocket. He had never laid eyes on the small, picturesque campus, and he didn't know a soul.

Who knew then that this bright, energetic dreamer from the rolling hills of western Pennsylvania would radically change the face of Adrian College?

This is the story of John Harper Dawson '38, one of the most influential figures in the history of Adrian College. His complexities were vast. He was powerful, stoic, visionary, deeply religious and firmly in charge. He had connections with the upper echelon of Lenawee County society, yet he connected with ordinary, everyday people-a man who played baseball and touch football with neighborhood kids in his backyard, dubbed "Dawson's Lot." Despite his success, he remained the kid from Pennsylvania.

His is a tale about dreams, loyalty-and love over everything. And oh, what a tale.

Man with a Vision

John Dawson was the 14th president of Adrian College, serving his alma mater for almost 24 years. When he died on April 20, 2002, following a long bout with Parkinson's and Alzheimer's diseases, he left behind an indelible legacy. Back in 1955, the then 40-year old minister was handed the arduous task of reviving a college on the brink of failure. But Dawson, who possessed wisdom infused with incandescent passion for his alma mater, did the unthinkable. The college gained accreditation. A modern campus of 25 buildings emerged. Enrollment peaked at 1,538 students in 1967. The endowment grew.

How did he do it? How did a young man from a poor background, who never dreamed of being a college president, enrapture so many people and turn his faltering alma mater into a prominent place of higher learning? Even his wife of 61 years looks back in amazement.

"I thought Adrian was impossible," Virginia Bates Dawson '38 said. "I didn't want him to take the job. I thought, 'It cannot be done-not by anyone.'

"He was an optimist; I'm a realist," she added matter-of-factly.

The scene at Adrian College in 1955 may best be described as a study in dichotomy. Blessed with a talented faculty (with the likes of Miles Peelle and Ruth Cargo), students were enlightened and challenged. But brilliant educators alone could not overcome the serious problems the College faced. The campus consisted of six old buildings-North, Ridge, South, Metcalf, Downs and Science. The College was saddled with a $300,000 debt (equivalent to $2 million in today's dollars). Enrollment hovered around 300. Morale was low. The Trustees weighed many options, including closing.

The melancholy financial picture was reminiscent of the Bible story about Ezekiel and the valley of the dry bones. No life or hope resided in the desolate valley, but the Spirit of the Lord breathed life into the bones and they became an army of people. Adrian College was in need of the same type of rejuvenating. Clarence C. Klein had been tapped as president early in 1954, but tragedy intervened. A heart attack suffered while traveling back from Europe claimed Klein's life in August, and he never served a day as president. The Trustees then hired John Dawson, a young minister at Crafton Methodist Church in Pittsburgh, and handed him the reins of the troubled institution. Addressing the student body in January 1955, president-elect Dawson said, "I will not promise you much but if we work together much might be accomplished." And with that simple promise his work commenced, igniting a stint as president that lasted until 1978.

"I thought we'd give it four years, and if he couldn't turn it around, we'd go back to Pittsburgh," Virginia said. "And after about one and a half years, you could see that things were turning around."

The Growth Years

Everyone called him Johnny. The oldest child of John A. and Julia Peters Dawson, Johnny was popular, smart and accustomed to hard work. Growing up in rural Pennsylvania, he worked on a farm, clerked in a grocery store, picked fruit-anything to help the family. The tight-knit Dawson family-Johnny, brother Robert and sisters Marion and Jean-struggled but relied on their steadfast faith. They simply adored each other. His mother baked wonderful lemon pies and gave the children the dream of education, while his father instilled an incredible work ethic. Still, things weren't easy. In the midst of the Depression, money was so tight that at times Johnny couldn't afford to buy socks. Sports were his escape, a release from the cold rigors of life. And Johnny loved them all, playing football, basketball and baseball whenever he could. His father was a semi-professional baseball player before earning a living as a mason, and Johnny inherited his penchant for competition.

So while the prospect of turning around a struggling college may have scared some, Dawson embraced the challenge with the same fury he exhibited on the sandlots. He immersed himself in the job, working long hours while trying to find a way to erase the debt, gain accreditation, attract more students, and make Adrian a strong United Methodist college.

"With Dad, his love of Adrian College wasn't contrived, it wasn't fake," his daughter Marsha Dawson Nelson '69 said. "It was an obsession, a passion."

His first task was finding a way to pay off the College's debt. The Ridge family had recently created the Ridge Trust Fund, so Dawson traveled to Indiana to meet with Everett '23 and Julia Craig Ridge '22. Struck by the confidence and enthusiasm of Dawson, Ridge gave a gift to the College that, along with income from the Trust, erased the debt. Challenge one met.

He then met Ray Herrick, a moment that would change both men forever. Herrick, founder of Tecumseh Products, had already shown interest in Adrian College, donating funds so a football field could be built. But something clicked between Dawson and Herrick, two kindred spirits who worked together to make incredible changes. In 1956, Herrick made a gift of $40,000 to purchase books for the library, a crucial step in gaining accreditation (which the college had lacked since 1918). Two years later, on March 25, 1958, Adrian College was granted regional accreditation. Challenge two met. Over the years, Herrick and the Herrick Foundation invested more than $15 million in the College.

"Ray and John were very much alike," Virginia said. "They had similar backgrounds, they were both dreamers and they weren't afraid to take chances. I think Ray saw a lot of himself in John."

Armed with accreditation and more resources, the College was able to attract high-caliber students, and enrollment grew steadily. Dawson even recruited students himself, personally visiting churches and high schools to spread the word. He especially sought students from his hometown area of Pittsburgh. When enrollment soared over 1,500 in the 60s, his third challenge was satisfied.

Dawson called the period from 1955-1967 the growth years. His dream of making Adrian College a viable church-related liberal arts college was a reality. He had successfully created an image for the College, something he called the "four-fold purpose"-professional preparation via academic, social, cultural and spiritual emphases. Yet as much as his tenure was marked by incredible increase in facilities and finances, it was his common touch that endeared him to many. He gave people a chance, from young professors eager to break into teaching to borderline students who yearned to prove themselves. He watched teams practice in Ridge and he talked to students on campus. He knew so many faces, so many names. His one life touched another-and another, and another.

"Dad didn't make distinctions between people based on class," Marsha said. "He liked you for who you were."

The Stress and Strain Years

The rapid growth of the College brought a new set of challenges, ushering in what Dawson himself called "the stress and strain years" in the late 60s and early 70s. Dawson's vision and optimism were a perfect match for a struggling college in 1955, but 20 years later the builder and idealist faced different issues as the world of higher education changed. Community colleges were emerging. A change in financial aid practices made it harder for students to attend private colleges outside their home states, and Adrian's bread and butter market of western Pennsylvania shriveled up accordingly. The world had also changed dramatically, embarking on a long, strange trip from 1955 to 1975. By the mid-70s, the Vietnam War was ending, the Watergate scandal gave Americans a distrust in government, and economic times were tough.

Indeed, the situation had changed, and Adrian was not a 300-student institution any more. Dawson proved he had the vision and skill needed to guide and build a financially-challenged college, but he then faced the daunting task of managing the college that he built. The growth of the faculty alone brought a unique set of issues. There were 26 faculty members in 1955, but that number ballooned to 101 by 1975. And the faculty in the mid-70s encompassed a broad range of religious backgrounds, philosophies and political ideologies.

So when enrollment dipped to 916 in 1974-75, all eyes turned to Dawson. And true to form for most leaders, he bore the brunt of the criticism. Some faculty claimed his leadership had eroded and believed he should resign, but Dawson remained president until he retired in September 1978.

"Dad loved Adrian College, and every decision he made-right or wrong-was because he truly felt it was the best thing for Adrian College," his daughter Marsha said.

Still, the eternal optimist was stunned when people turned on him.

"He handled [criticism] very well, and he never held a grudge-never," Marsha said. "He was not one to say mean things or talk about people. He just didn't understand disloyalty. For Dad it was always like when two kids get into a fistfight, then get up, dust themselves off, and go back to playing. That's exactly how he was. You just got over it."

First Impressions

John's passion toward Adrian College may be hard for some to understand, but he was so grateful to the tiny college on Madison Street. Adrian College, after all, took a chance on a young transfer student from the University of Pittsburgh back in 1935. A bright student who graduated high school at age 16, he had studied mechanical engineering before his dream of a career in the ministry burned a fire that was too strong to ignore. Fueled by his mother, who gave him the dream of education, and his pastor, who just happened to be an Adrian College alumnus (Alden Green '07), Dawson made his way 272 miles west to Adrian. And he soaked in the entire experience. He played football, basketball and track and field, building an undergraduate athletic career that earned him a berth in the College's Hall of Fame in 1985. He sang in the choir, was a drummer in the band, and was president of student government. He also met a strong, intelligent woman who caught his eye. And he caught hers.

"I was on campus with one of my friends, and I saw these two men walking by," Virginia recalled. "There was this blonde, tall, good looking one, and I asked, 'Who is that?' And my friend said, 'That's Johnny Dawson from Pittsburgh. He's studying to be a minister.' And I thought, 'That's a shame,' because I didn't want anything to do with a minister."

Virginia, the youngest child of John and Minnie Bates, was raised on a Forrister Road farm on the outskirts of Adrian. Brother Victor was 12 years older, so Virginia was basically raised alone. She yearned to attend Michigan State, but the distance proved too far in those days, especially for a family with just one car. So she enrolled at Adrian, where she studied English and speech. John, meanwhile, prepared for the ministry. As much as he cherished his extracurricular opportunities, he also relished studying Greek and Latin, under the tutelage of Homer Powell and Ione Chapman, respectively. He loved everything about Adrian College, and his enthusiasm for the school transcended to two of his siblings, as Jean Dawson Livingston '43 and Robert Dawson '50 are both alumni.

John and Virginia's courtship began innocently, with John spending 20 minutes or so each night talking with Virginia-mostly to irritate his roommate, who had been dating her. But John soon won her over, and they began dating. Sometimes, the couple would walk downtown and take in a movie, then head to Chisholms for a burger or a Coke. That, of course, was when John could muster the 56 cents needed to purchase two movie tickets-or 66 cents if they wanted drinks. Mostly, though, they would just stroll down Madison Street, talking and laughing, with John spinning tales and letting his imagination captivate her.

"Dates with John were so fun," Virginia said. "He had such a wonderful imagination. You could have more fun on a date with him without him spending a nickel."

The relationship blossomed, and John and Virginia were married in the College Chapel in 1941. They then moved to Pittsburgh and started a family, welcoming son John Robert (nicknamed Jack) in 1944 and daughter Marsha Elizabeth in 1947. But even though they were miles away, John never forgot the place that gave him a chance. When fate tugged at his heart in 1955, how could he say no?

The Greatest Wound

Faith, family and love were the notes that made up the major chords in his life, and by 1966, the Dawson family was enjoying a wonderful concert of success. John was a respected college president, while Virginia had her master's degree from the University of Michigan and was working as a counselor at Adrian Junior High School. Jack, who bore a striking resemblance to his father, had just graduated from Ohio Wesleyan University, and Marsha was an undergraduate at DePauw (Ind.).

But the music faded on Oct. 27, 1967, when Jack was killed in South Vietnam, near the Cambodian border. He was 23 years old. Jack had been in Vietnam just seven weeks and was shot while using his own body to shield a wounded commanding officer from hostile fire. The commanding officer survived. Jack did not.

"Nothing could compare to losing Jack," Virginia said. "John had never even considered the possibility that he could be killed. He couldn't understand, and he was devastated."

After the Presidency

A history buff, John turned his attention to writing following his 1978 retirement. He published two books (a civil war era book about the Virginia Cavalry and a biography of Ray Herrick) and wrote for several other publications. A founder of the Lenawee County Goodwill, he continued his work with this organization, and he remained active in the community.

His love affair with sports also continued, and he escaped to the golf course often. Plus he was a vocal fixture at Adrian sporting events, a fervent fan who rarely missed a chance to see his beloved Bulldogs play. In the late 80s and early 90s, he'd accompany the men's basketball team on long trips to Hope College, sitting in the back of the bus and eating pizza with the guys on the way home. John was well-recognized courtside by league referees, as he never missed an opportunity to point out when they missed a call. Everyone in the MIAA sporting world knew "Dr. John."

His health, however, was failing him. Dawson struggled for years with Parkinson's disease, a disorder of the central nervous system marked by muscle stiffness, loss of balance and uncontrollable shaking. The disease robbed him of the marvelous athletic body he once possessed. Then Alzheimer's struck late in his life, dealing him a cruel one-two punch.

"He was so frustrated, because there were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't get the words out," Virginia said.

At the end of his days, however, Dawson could look back and say he'd lived his life to the fullest. He dared to dream, to take chances, and to love. There was a lot of little kid in John Dawson. You could see it in his smile and hear it in his voice. He was more than a college president, more than a published author and dynamic public speaker. And he never forgot where he came from. Possibly, that's why he connected with so many people, young and old, wealthy and poor. And it's why he always made sure his two granddaughters had what he called "walking around money." He'd wrap a $5 bill around a candy bar and hand it to Elizabeth, or slip $10 to Emily, just so they had something in their pockets, because he never did.

John Dawson died in Jenison on April 20. The last conscious thing that he did before he slipped away was kiss his six-month-old great-grandson Wil.

As a college president, he is best remembered as a visionary, a man who looked at Adrian College in 1955 and saw enormous potential, not the dark cloud of a $300,000 debt. He was the quintessential Adrian man, and every person who strolls the campus today experiences his triumph.

An ordained United Methodist minister, he continued to preach throughout his life, giving invocations, presiding over funerals. He had a favorite passage, a piece from "Duke, A Love Story: An Intimate Memoir of John Wayne's Last Years." He read it at the countless funerals he presided over, and it was tucked neatly in his Bible when he died. Worn and faded, the words still resonate:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glint in snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight,

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there, I did not die.