Like it or not, he is still buried on campus

I recently found an admissions tour pamphlet on campus that surprised even me. In the section on “Historic Sites, Galleries, Museums,” the pamphlet briefly described several museums on front campus, such as the Reeves Center, Watson Pavilion, and the Colonnade.

The pamphlet also featured what is now being called “University Chapel.” And if Reeves is known for ceramics and the Colonnade for its George Washington exhibit, what might the very historic “University Chapel” be known for? According to this official W&L pamphlet, it “serves as a central gathering place for significant events and notable speakers, and has a public museum on the lower level.”

Now, imagine you’re a prospective student. You are visiting this nice little campus and thumbing through this pamphlet. You go on the tour and pass by “University Chapel.” You don’t go in, of course, because the tours don’t enter that place. Actually, they don’t even talk about it; that’s what the pamphlet is for!

Eventually, your tour ends and you still want to check out the chapel. “Do they host services only on Sunday?” you ask yourself as you enter. You are greeted by a couple security officers when you walk in. “Huh, that’s unusual for a church,” you think as they search your bag for contraband. 

You walk along the unadorned, white walls. You guess that it is a non denominational church; you’ve seen a few like that on other college campuses. They have a piano on stage and a giant organ on the balcony. “Maybe I could join the worship team,” you think, reflecting on all those piano lessons your mom forced you to take growing up.

You walk up to the stage, noticing that there is something behind the back wall. Why are the windows just wooden white frames? You think that some stained glass would really tie the room together, but right now it’s just too white. Is the school trying to send a message? You had heard a rumor on the tour that slaveholding, white supremacist Robert E. Lee was a school president during the Civil War or something. The tour guide didn’t mention anything, though. 

You peak behind the stage wall. You see a staircase to your left–“HEY,” one of the security guards shouts at you, startlingly. “That way is off limits. If you want to see the basement you have to enter from the side exterior.” 

“My apologies,” you say, face reddening with embarrassment. “They could have at least posted a sign,” you think to yourself as you exit the stage and head outside.

You’re curious about what they’re keeping you from seeing. You eventually manage to find the basement entrance. There’s a cobblestone grave to some horse named Traveller. “Isn’t that the name of the party bus?” you ask as you walk through the glass doors. 

You gasp, stunned at what you just found in the dusty basement of this beautiful chapel. “Robert E. Lee is buried here?!?” you ask another security guard stationed on a stool next to the crypt. “Why is this racist buried here? Why are there like twenty Lees buried here? What is this place?” You’re starting to freak out and you just want to leave. There are a couple doors to your left but you have no intention of finding out what other slaveholders they bring you to.

As you rush out of the basement the security officer shakes his head and looks back at his newspaper. “That’s the third time today,” he mumbles. 

~ ~ ~

This story sounds wildly exaggerated, but it really is much closer to the truth than you might think. The reality is that the Washington and Lee University administration has been extremely successful in covering up any connection to Robert E. Lee and the Civil War. And regardless of what someone thinks about Lee, everyone should be able to agree that W&L has mishandled his legacy at this school, and specifically, in the chapel.

The Board of Trustees’ June 4, 2021 decision on “The Future of Washington and Lee University” received heavy backlash from the beginning. Since then, university officials have removed every plaque in the chapel auditorium, repeatedly denied requests to publicize a list of what was removed, kept the basement museum closed, and dodged many other questions about the site.

But what have these decisions achieved? The professors and students who demanded a name change in 2021 have not been pleased. Many Black students continue to feel uncomfortable entering the chapel, while faculty continue to avoid using the space: the annual Phi Beta Kappa induction ceremony, for example, moved out of Lee Chapel in 2019 and has not since returned.

Meanwhile, W&L’s relentless commitment to “unadorn” the National Historic Landmark has been very costly. For starters, W&L has paid consultation fees to repeatedly revise renovation proposals deemed unsafe by city officials. Their permit approved on February 6 estimated a renovation cost of $325,000, likely a conservative estimate. Add in the architectural, legal, and previous construction fees and the university may have spent a million dollars or more on this project.

But that is just the beginning. W&L is also depleting their financial lifeblood as upset alumni withhold funds and find alternative organizations that align more closely with their views. The Generals Redoubt (TGR), for example, just bought the Fancy Hill estate for $1 million, money they say was raised to challenge W&L’s “active campaign to erase its history[.]”

Critics often dismiss or lambast TGR’s impact on the W&L community, which will presumably increase now that they have a physical headquarters. One popular claim is that TGR is just an obstreperous handful of old white men whose outdated views will die out with them. While this claim does not fairly reflect TGR’s demographics or objectives, let’s say for argument’s sake that in 20 years, every prominent donor and alumni will want to remove Lee’s name from the university and so-on. 

Are we certain that the new generation of W&L alumni will be any more resolved to donate to the university? At the end of the day, W&L cannot erase Lee’s effect on this school. The chapel can be renamed, but the man will still be buried there. The school can be renamed, but the man will still be buried there. Even if the Lee Family Crypt was removed from campus, students would still bemoan how long it took and that Lee was buried there for over 150 years. 

And what of the students who only came here because of the generous financial support they were offered? Last year I had a conversation with a freshman from another state. I asked him why he came to W&L, to which he replied, “the money.” I laughed and then asked, “sure, but why did you apply?” Without hesitation he noted that he did not do much research on the school before applying. He then leaned in and whispered, “To be honest, I did not even know this school was named after Lee” until after arriving on campus in the Fall. The student complained about this revelation, seemingly angry at the school for not making it clear.

Nearly every encounter I have with prospective students about the namesakes has gone similarly. They might know whom the school is named after, but they do not know that Lee is buried on campus. Sometimes the prospective students ask their host if the rumors are true, if Lee is in the chapel. Their reaction is always the same: confusion and disgust. 

The W&L administration was at a crossroads in 2021. Instead of either standing by or rejecting their namesakes, they chose an on-the-fence position that sends mixed messages to the entire community. Students and alumni are confused about what W&L values, and a recent Ring-tum Phi article about “W&L’s turmoil with racial justice”  shows that conservative students are not the only ones feeling misled.

I believe that the changes made to Lee Chapel are egregious and ahistorical. But even worse is how the administration has kept their students and prospective students in the dark. They treat the characterless “University Chapel” and its forthcoming wall as if it were a rug in which one can sweep all scandalous history behind. Recent prospective students have indicated that this feign attempt to create a welcoming environment for minority students is not enough.

While some think the answer lies in further change to W&L’s brand, I argue that we need an empathetic compromise between two groups that acknowledges both Lee’s evils and his achievements. The historic landmark of Lee Chapel is the perfect place for this compromise, and I would be happy to discuss its potential with others.

The opinions expressed in this magazine are the author's own and do not reflect the official policy or position of The Spectator, or any students or other contributors associated with the magazine. It is the intention of The Spectator to promote student thought and civil discourse, and it is our hope to maintain that civility in all discussions.