THE DUKE PHILOSOPHY DEPARTMENT HISTORY PROJECT
The founding chair of Duke’s philosophy department, William Ivey Cranford, must have found department meetings to be either breathtakingly short or interminable. For he was the department for the first six years. He taught all eight courses in the curriculum each year, until the arrival of two new colleagues in 1930 allowed him to share the load.
Cranford quite literally gave his life to the institution. He arrived as an undergrad at Trinity College in 1887 when it was still in Randolph County, about 70 miles west of Durham. He returned to teach Greek and philosophy after completing his PhD at Yale in 1895. In 1910 he was appointed Dean of Trinity College and oversaw its move to Durham. And Cranford died in the saddle, so to speak – from complications of a stroke he suffered while lecturing in 1934. At the time he was the oldest alumnus in service at Duke.
At Cranford’s memorial, Duke’s founding president Preston Few declared: “He was loyal, competent, and unselfish – a rare combination – and the sort of man that is to an educational administrator as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.” We think that was meant as a compliment?
Unlike the illustrious philosophers he hired (more about them in future newsletters), Duke’s first philosopher did not publish much. Just a handful of short articles in local literary reviews. But those curious to explore his thoughts are invited to peruse several boxes of his unpublished papers in the Duke University Archives. These include his doctoral dissertation, “Historical Theories of Perception” (Yale 1895), as well as manuscripts for four books that never saw the light of day: On Truth, The Uses of the Aesthetic, The Future of Political Parties, and Principles of Habit.
Cranford seems to be the only person of his stature from Trinity’s and Duke’s early days not to have a building or landmark named after him. But that does not mean he did not leave his mark, if you look carefully enough.
He was a member of the Trinity College team that played the first intercollegiate foot ball (sic) game “south of the Potomac.” It took place on Thanksgiving Day 1887 in Raleigh, with Cranford playing left tackle on the squad that beat Carolina 17-0.
Cranford and his college sweetheart, Nellie Edwards, were the first Trinity College grads to marry.
Cranford was a founding member of the most prestigious “secret society” (a proto-fraternity) at Trinity and during the early years at Duke, “The 9019.” Its stated objectives were “the promotion of high ideals, scholastic achievement, and everything that pertains to the best interest of the College.” A description of their protocols, oaths, and gowns can be found in the above-mentioned Archive.
The glorious mansion that Cranford built in 1910 still stands at 704 North Buchanan Boulevard. According to Preservation Durham, Cranford was something of a gentleman farmer, with a barn and a chicken coup behind the house. He is said to have grazed his cattle across the street on the lawns of East Campus.
William Ivey Cranford is buried in Maplewood Cemetery, adjacent the old University Apartments that have been home to countless Duke philosophy graduate students over the years.
This month, Shih-Han (Sally) Huang talks about her philosophical origins in art and aesthetics, her current project on play and the good life, and her habit of working from 4 to 6 a.m. (with milk tea, of course).
Rich Eva gave a talk on "Technology & Suffering" at WVU's Kendrick Center for an Ethical Economy. He argued that technology tends to eliminate forms of hardship that support human flourishing and that we must recover what is lost. The most promising paths do not involve top-down regulation or bottom-up consumer choice, but the cultivation social traditions that preserve meaningful "suffering.”
Alex Rosenberg will give talks at Emory University and the University at Buffalo in the spring. The latter is the annual Paul Kurtz Memorial Lecture on Naturalism.
Happy holidays to everyone!
This month I have some ecumenical unsolicited advice for everyone on how to deal with winter illnesses. The first American Pope’s suspiciously timed visit to Turkey during Thanksgiving has raised eyebrows to the point that fezzes have fallen off heads, but few have considered the medical ramifications. The unprecedented meeting of patriarchs and representatives from churches all over the world to commemorate the 1700th anniversary of the First Ecumenical Council of Nicaea was indeed historic, but the perspective it calls for is also histologic. For what do all these men have in common? They are old, like to regularly congregate with others in closed spaces, and though united by the Nicene Creed they are divided by microbiome. We may hope that what their gathering and dispersal will spread is the “germ of faith,” but merely describing it so might not deter the pathogens—as Ian Hacking warns, “Human action is more closely linked to human description than bacterial action is” (Making Up People, p. 167 in Reconstructing Individualism). But if we tell them they are an at-risk population, they may rightly respond we are an at-risk civilization in need of guidance. So my advice for dealing with winter illness, in case it wasn’t obvious, is to accept the inevitability of sniffling and find something worth getting sick for.
If you have a question for Tayfun for the next newsletter, please send it to tayfun.gur@duke.edu... though you may get some advice even if you don't.