Who was H. C. Risner?
Uncovering the story of H. C. Risner and the deep roots of racial exclusion embedded in Southwestern's institutional culture
In 1886, a Southwestern student named Henry Clay Risner was advised to withdraw from Southwestern University due to speculations that he was Black. Today, Risner's story resurfaces, prompting us to confront our institution's troubled history and reminding us of the ongoing need to engage with the untold narratives of those from the past who have shaped our present. Note: Although the University was not even yet located at its current campus during the events remembered in this entry, we have placed this pin right in the middle of the current campus because we believe this story reflects a chapter of Southwestern’s history everyone should know.
In the spring of 1886, Henry Clay Risner, a Southwestern University student, was quietly advised by the Regent of the University to withdraw from the institution. Why? Speculations arose that he was of African-American descent.
Risner’s story, largely unknown to most of the community for over a hundred years, resurfaced recently after a fellow student, Devonte Rogers ‘24, brought Risner’s case to our attention, referring us to a short passage about Risner they found in the official University history, To Survive and Excel by William B. Jones.
From May to September 2024, we worked to investigate Risner’s story for ourselves. We started with Jones’ account and then followed his cited research to the original faculty and administrative records about the case in the SU Archives. From there, we conducted our own search into archives elsewhere in the country and contacted his family members to see if they could provide any information and context about Risner. What follows weaves together what we now know and don’t know, and what it all means for the history of Southwestern as a diversifying predominantly white institution today.
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Henry Clay Risner was born in Kentucky in 1869 and died in 1948 in North Carolina. His parents named him after the famous Kentucky politician Henry Clay, who played a prominent role in seeking compromises between the North and South in the mid-19th Century.
Risner enrolled in Southwestern's preparatory Fitting School in 1884 and enrolled in the University proper in 1885. Though his academic performance and conduct were noted positively, he was asked to leave the following year, and was no longer listed as a student in the fall of 1886.
Risner’s subsequent life appears to have been remarkable. He went on to study at other institutions, eventually becoming a prominent Baptist minister with pastorates across several states, including Texas, Tennessee, Maryland, and California. He also was an author and Chautauqua speaker who achieved some level of national prominence in the early 20th Century.
His travels and reflections are captured in his 1929 memoir, Pinnacles of Personality, where he writes of encounters with world leaders, as well as his regret at not mastering foreign languages—a regret he poignantly connects to advice given by the faculty at Southwestern. Despite being asked to leave Southwestern, Risner seemed to have remained successful in his career, impacting many through his ministry and public speaking.
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Bill Jones includes his account of H. C. Risner’s story in a section called “The Race Question” in an early chapter of To Survive and Excel where he is discussing the racial “pattern of exclusion” in the early decades of the University. Jones writes that while Southwestern did not have any explicit policies against admitting African Americans, “It was just not done.” He points to Risner’s case as an example of how a Black man “slipped through” the University’s de facto segregation practices and was subsequently dismissed after he was “detected.”
Jones cites faculty records from May 17, 1886, where minutes show that two students, M.K. Bateman and S.B. Hawkins, read statements from others who claimed to be familiar with Risner's family and asserted that Risner was “of Negro descent.”
The faculty, led by Regent John Wesley Heidt, the second Regent of the University after F.A. Mood, and a former Confederate soldier, acted swiftly on the information provided by Bateman and Hawkins, asking Risner to withdraw due to "the above suspicion and of the discontent among the students" (Jones 115). There is no record of any investigation into the matter at the time.
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Like his predecessors in the Southwestern faculty and administration involved in the case in the 1880s, Bill Jones apparently took the events chronicled in the 1886 faculty minutes at face value, assuming that the students had indeed “detected” that Risner was a Black man passing as White so that he would be included in the University. In our own research, we have discovered no evidence confirming or refuting Risner’s African-American descent.
What is painfully clear is that this case points to the deep-seated racial exclusion embedded in Southwestern's history. While Jones is correct in saying that there were no explicit policies barring African-American students for most of our history, it is problematic to describe it as something that was simply “understood”--that Southwestern did not admit anyone who was Black--because that hides the fact that there were people like Regent Heidt actively enforcing what Jones characterizes as a practice of “passive exclusion.”
This practice of de facto “passive exclusion” persisted until 1965, when Southwestern finally decided to actively enroll African-American students, Ernest L. Clark being the first. Risner’s case reminds us that before 1965, individuals suspected to be of African descent who did apply to or enroll at the University would have either been denied admission altogether or actively pushed out, even if no formal investigation or evidence was provided to support such claims.
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Placing Memory’s investigation into Risner’s life has been both fascinating and frustrating. After researching through original faculty minutes in the University archives and reaching out to Risner’s descendants, we found ourselves faced with more questions than answers.
Most important, despite our considerable efforts, we could not confirm whether Risner was, in fact, of African-American descent. His great-grandson Bill Taussig was unaware of any such heritage, and no other records mention it either--whether in the books Risner authored, such as Pinnacles of Personality, or in the numerous newspaper articles chronicling his life as a prominent pastor and public speaker.
From our vantage point in the present, it was disturbing enough to think that someone would be pushed out of Southwestern simply for being Black, but even more disturbing to think that someone might have been denied access for no verifiable reason, and what that meant about the way “being Southwestern” has been implicitly White from the beginning.
Regardless of whether the racial accusation was true, the way Southwestern handled the situation with Risner offers a clear example of how racial prejudice was woven into the institution's fabric from our founding. The administration’s actions were driven by speculation and were focused on appeasing a few outspoken students, rather than any objective investigation, underscoring a willingness to enforce racial purity based on little more than hearsay.
It is clear that Risner was a bright and capable student—one whose good conduct was later acknowledged in a certificate issued by the University. Yet, he was still apparently removed from Southwestern because of a rumor that was treated as fact.
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The discovery of Risner’s story has prompted strong reactions among current students who know about it today, many of whom are frustrated and angered by the University's past racial discrimination and how it casts a long shadow on the present.
Risner’s story encourages us to reckon with how Southwestern has remembered its history--choosing to forget the more uncomfortable chapters like Risner's. It challenges us to think critically about the institution's legacy and to confront the ways in which racial prejudice was maintained under the guise of passive exclusion not only in the late 19th Century, but through most of the 20th Century.
Learning about Risner has been a reminder that we should remain mindful of how we remember our University's history, ensuring that stories like Risner’s are not forgotten but serve as lessons for building a more inclusive Southwestern today and in the future.
