Prohibition U: Tennessee university devoted to banning alcohol brought down by scandal

Imagine a university devoid of red Solo cups, where Sober October lasts all year long — and that has a place in Tennessee trivia, namely:
In 1905, the University of Tennessee football team won 104-0 against ... American Temperance University.
Yes, the state now marketing its Whiskey Trail once housed the country’s one and only institution of higher education centered on the banning of alcohol.
You read that right. Here's what you should know about this fascinating chapter in Tennessee history.
Wait, what?
Temperance was an enormously popular social movement that sought to solve a slew of social problems by ending the consumption of alcohol. White and Black women both rallied against “demon rum” and “King Alcohol.”
The concern made sense. By 1830, the average American adult drank the equivalent of 1.7 bottles of 80-proof liquor per week, Daniel Okrent wrote in his book “Last Call.”
Temperance went hand-in-glove with other progressive causes. Frances Willard, the leader of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, championed socialism, vegetarianism, bicycle-riding, cremation, celibate marriages — and suffrage, because, she believed, only women’s votes would get Prohibition passed, Okrent wrote.
In the 1880s, the movement began to make progress. For one, Congress required all public schools to teach “scientific temperance education,” according to scholar Norton Mezvinsky.
That was the context in which the A.T.U. began.
How did the American Temperance University get its start?
The university opened in 1893 in Harriman, Tennessee, a planned town created to be “a utopia without any alcohol,” historian John Norris Brown said. Organizers recruited the Rev. John F. Spence from the presidency of Grant University, now part of University of Tennessee-Chattanooga, according to the UTC’s website.
The A.T.U. was coed. It offered a classical curriculum with Latin, Greek, math, music and elocution, as well as bookkeeping, Brown said. Like many colleges at that time, it had a high school. For diversion, the A.T.U. had three literary societies plus a Cadet Corps. About 250 students attended in the first year.
Who went there?
Future white-bearded ministers teaching in higher education, judging by a perusal of very old theological conference write-ups. Plus two Tennessee congressmen, J. Will Taylor and John Jennings.
What killed the university?
A scandal! Sadly for irony, it did not involve drinking. The American Temperance University, the Christian World magazine charged, was a diploma mill.
The Rev. Charles Garnett, B.A., M.A., B.D., D.D., S.T.D., sued the magazine in British court for libel. Alas for Garnett, who lost, the 1903 trial surfaced embarrassing details.
"This is one of the worst universities in this part of the country. In fact I could not conceive anything worse. They give degrees for almost nothing,” a witness said, according to the British Medical Journal.
To be exact, degrees were conferred for an oral exam and $10 (roughly $340 today). The S.T.D. was thrown in for free and stood for “Sacra Theologia Doctoris.” The exams were often given off-site; most people named in the student register had never visited.
The Lancet was even more scathing. “The University of Harriman appears to exist to some extent as an educational centre — that is to say, there was evidence that some part of the buildings are in use, though dirty and ill-kept, as a school for boys and girls.” Of 26 professors in the catalogue, “five were actually traceable as existing.” The domestic science chair moonlighted as a housekeeper. The astronomy professor worked as a dentist.
Garnett “admitted that he had never been to Harriman in his life, although he demurred to the suggestion that he had not been within 1000 miles of it,” the Lancet wrote.
There was a second likely cause for the university’s failure: competition — not for college but for high school.
The city school system discontinued most secondary classes when the university opened, Brown said. Instead, it paid for students to attend the A.T.U. preparatory department. In the 1900s, Harriman reopened its high school. That “had a significant impact on the university’s enrollment and finances,” Brown said. The A.T.U. had struggled financially all along.
In 1908, the American Temperance University closed. One year later, Tennessee passed in-effect statewide prohibition.
The university’s main hall still stands, known today as the Temperance Building. The domestic science building is, fittingly, a B&B.
Does the American Temperance University matter today?
It's not breaking news that Prohibition failed. About 65% of adults 21 and over say they drink alcohol, according to the Gallup Poll.
However, as anyone on social media knows, interest in sobriety is on the rise. “The pendulum swings,” said Hilary Sheinbaum, author of “The Dry Challenge.”
More:Why some Southerners are rethinking what life could look like without alcohol
The World Health Organization now says that there is no level of alcohol consumption that does not hurt health. A Sweden-based group is working toward significantly restricting alcohol use.
Especially with the COVID-19 pandemic, young people focus on wellness, Sheinbaum said: “They don’t want to put anything harmful in their system if they can help it.”
Some U.S. colleges and universities are completely dry. Many of those are religious, such as Lipscomb College, but not all — Indiana University has a no-alcohol policy, for instance. Most traditional college undergraduates are underage anyway, Sheinbaum pointed out.
Beyond that, university sobriety and recovery programs offer a range of programming — North Carolina A&T, for instance, has sober tailgating and watch parties. Such programs got started in 1977, according to the Association of Recovery in Higher Education, which has about 150 institution members. It’s not unusual for colleges to offer sober housing.
Perhaps the American Temperance University can inspire them today.
Danielle Dreilinger is an American South storytelling reporter and the author of the book “The Secret History of Home Economics.” You can reach her at ddreilinger@gannett.com or 919/236-3141.