In an era when women were denied access to power, this reform movement provided opportunity to become involved in the political process by positioning them as protectors of the culture, particularly the family. The pervasive nature of prohibition in American Evangelicalism can be seen by the number of schools, like Greenville, where alcohol consumption remained forbidden across campuses into the 21stcentury. Greenville University’s own history professor, Dr. Enoch Holtwick, even ascended to national prominence when he appeared on the ballot for President of the United States of America in 1952.
Whiteman’s participation occurred on several different occasions and in different venues. In 1939, in her mid-twenties and after a stint spent teaching at Spring Arbor, she appears in the program for a regional gathering of the WCTU in Cleveland, Ohio (its place of origination). She received prominent billing in a dramatic monologue entitled, “The Uncrowned Queen.” While no copy of her performance exists, we do know that she received an invitation to perform at the Centenary Program of the organization held at the Convention Hall in Rochester, New York, September 27-October 3, 1939. She received top billing as Wednesday evening’s entertainment, following an address by the Rev. Sam Morris, described as “the Voice of Temperance,” with the ironic title, “Old Wine in New Bottles.”
Performing in Rochester, Harriette found herself in the heart of the origins of the Free Methodist Church. Her father’s connections with Chesbrough Seminary may even have played a part, given that their a cappella choir was also invited to sing. When she appeared in Cleveland a few weeks later, she was included in a list of six honored guests as “Mrs. Harriette Warner Whiteman—Winona Lake, Indiana.” In a time when it might have been rare to maintain one’s maiden name after marriage, the fact that she was a “Warner” might have indicated pride of place, perhaps due to the high esteem in which her father’s name was held.
Harriette’s one-woman show took place in the context of numerous guest speakers on topics such as spiritual education, alcohol education, and character education. This emphasis on character as a spiritual virtue was also at the heart of Christian higher education, which is still reflected in Greenville’s mission “for character and service.” Of particular interest in the archival copy of the program is a series of line drawings, probably done by Whiteman herself. These drawings appear to focus on a woman’s dress and its attendant paraphernalia, something that most holiness traditions would have frowned upon at the time. The regality of the dress, the hat, and various accoutrements suggest that it might have been a part of the costuming she used for her monologue. But, in the end, this can only remain conjecture.
While Professor Whiteman was busy presenting at various academic conferences, she also, apparently, was being called upon to speak on Greenville’s campus, as well. In an undated set of handwritten notes, Harriette lists herself as one of four panelists, known only by their first names (Betty, Connie, “H,” and Elsie). Entitling her remarks, “If I had it to do all over again . . .” it would appear that the primary subject of the evening had to do with dating and, given that all of the respondents were female,” one wonders if the audience itself was limited to women.
There are a number of items at the top of her page which would suggest that she provided some kind of introduction, perhaps referencing Shakespeare since the name, “Portia” has a prominent place. In any event, the focus of her remarks is on four pieces of advice she wishes to convey: more casual dating, more double-dating, participation in more hobbies and activities, and less car-riding and walking in the Gullies. It is unclear, at this point, whether Harriette is here speaking out of her own personal experience, or simply reverting to what some might have characterized as advice from a more mature woman—one honored and respected within the Christian community.
My acquaintance with “Aunt Harriette” (as she was popularly known) occurred in the 1970’s as her student. Over the course of a half-dozen classes, she emerged as the guiding light within my English major, eventually chairing my honors thesis committee. By this point in life, she was entering into her sixties and beginning to rely on the use of a cane on occasion. It was in this mode that I well remember her leading us on her final trip to England near the end of my time at Greenville in January of 1979. At this point, I was well into thesis writing and Harriette was anxious to take me and my new bride to meet her friend, Tess, in Somerset. While there, we were assured, Tess would drive us to see several famous Arthurian sites.
So it was that on one of our free days, Harriette assisted us in boarding the train and heading south of London to connect with her English friend. The day was spent navigating back roads as the sun shone brightly off the new-fallen snow. The greatest and most important site to be visited was the remains of Glastonbury Abbey where it is purported that King Arthur and Queen Guinevere are buried—a legend which goes back to at least the time of Henry VIII. After touring the grounds, Professor Whiteman insisted that we climb Glastonbury Tor where we were promised a magnificent view of the countryside.
We stumbled our way up the ascent, struggling through a covering of snow surmounting a quagmire of mud. By the time we reached the top, we were breathing heavily and covered in English mud. Leaning on her cane and framed by the spire atop the tor, Harriette was alight with the humor and sheer magnificence of the beauty that surrounded us. Catching her breath, she waved her cane over the perspective of the monastic grounds beneath us and pronounced, “If you look close enough, you can almost see Camelot!”
On February 21, 1999, it was my privilege to preach the homily at my mentor’s funeral. I began the sermon with this story and then relayed the following introduction:
Harriette Warner Whiteman always had eyes to see what others either could or would not. And, for those of us who shared her vision, she was our prophetess, guide, and beloved teacher. She understood that what George Bush called “the vision thing” was not something artificial tacked onto the end of a speech, but “words of power” that flowed out of a heart deeply in tune with the heart of God. So, today, we, like ancient Scandinavians in the old sagas feel, to borrow a word she taught me from Beowulf, ealdorleas—without the benefit of her clarity of vision, and we dearly miss her. And, we naturally wonder, who can possibly take her place in keeping that vision alive? Where will we ever find another one like her who understands, in the language of the gospel writer, that words have a power all their own, and behind them stands a reality unseen and unmeasurable by any instrument science has yet produced.
Professor Whiteman stands tall, alongside her colleague, Dr. Elva McAllaster, as the heart of the English Department during a time of tremendous growth. Students from their era usually were required to take one or both of them for an English Composition or a Literature course. In this role, they shaped the lives and imaginations of many of the leaders who would emerge at both the university and in countless other institutions and ventures. Though perhaps limited by their times as women in terms of leadership opportunities, they found ways to inculcate the Christian vision in their charges. Harriette, in particular, was one-of-a-kind, and left an indelible mark on Greenville University as a woman unafraid to lead out during a time when men were at the helm. And, she did so with gusto, joy, and panache.
