Well into the 20th century, Brown was still a tiny institution, enrolling mostly Rhode Islanders. In 1914, for example, when the university celebrated its sesquicentennial, there were only 678 male and 204 female undergraduates, with 102 graduate students. Of Brown’s 7,749 alumni, 58% were still living. As America’s seventh-oldest university, Brown surely enjoyed some comparisons with Harvard and Yale, but the “Ivy League” athletic conference was not formalized until 1945.
What distinguished Brown from its New England neighbors was its Baptist patrimony. Required by its charter, all Brown’s presidents were Baptist ministers until 1937, when Henry Wriston was selected. The charter allowed students of all denominations, but only Protestants could serve as trustees and faculty members.
Some exceptions were made early in the 20th century, when a few rabbis of Providence’s Congregation Sons of Israel and David, later known as Temple Beth-El, were allowed to teach Hebrew and Bible courses. The most notable rabbi was Henry Englander, who earned his doctorate at Brown in 1909, but soon joined the faculty of the Reform seminary, Hebrew Union College, in Cincinnati.
Not until 1942, when the university’s charter was amended, did a Catholic or a Jewish professor receive tenure. The first Jew was Israel J. Kapstein, who earned his bachelor’s degree in 1926 and his doctorate five years later. In 1982, one of his former students, Marvyn Carton, endowed the Kapstein Professorship.
I recently received a letter from Kapstein’s daughter, Judith Brodsky, herself a distinguished professor, who feared that her father was completely forgotten by the 130th anniversary celebrations.
Yearbooks show Brown’s extracurricular life was once dominated by gentile fraternities, originating in the 1830s. By 1913, 20 fraternities owned and operated their own houses on College Hill.
On the eve of World War I, Brown may have enrolled a few dozen Jewish students. There is no precise way of knowing. Freshmen registration forms asked nothing about religion. It is possible to search for Jewish-sounding names on class rosters and compile a list of individuals excluded from fraternities. There were also very few Catholic students and only a tiny number of Blacks.
The vast majority of Brown’s Jewish students walked or took trolleys to campus. Most lived in Jewish neighborhoods in the North End or South Providence.
In 2003, while examining the archives of the Rhode Island Jewish Historical Association, I discovered a photo labeled “Phi Epsilon Pi, 1916-17.” I sought to identify all 14 young men, who were carefully groomed and nattily attired. I also studied records in the Hay Library’s Archives and a book, “Encyclopedia Brunoniana,” which was written by Martha Mitchell, the archivist, in 1993.
I wondered if the photo I found may have portrayed Brown’s Menorah Society, founded in 1915, following the first chapter, at Harvard, in 1906, and eventually on 34 campuses. The chapter at Brown’s Women’s College was established in 1919.
I learned that the first photo of Brown’s Menorah Society did not appear until 1918. The society was an educational and literary endeavor, so Brown’s Jewish young men had a Greek-letter organization of their own.
Phi Ep, founded at City College of New York in 1904, and a year later at Columbia, soon endeavored to become a regional and then a national Jewish fraternity. The first three chapters in New England, all founded in 1916, were at Tufts, Maine and Rhode Island State College. The last survived until 1921. Brown’s chapter, the 16th, also known as Sigma, was founded in 1916, folding in 1918. Rhode Island State’s chapter lasted until 1921. Eventually, there were 48 chapters, which merged, in 1978, with a rival, national Jewish fraternity, Zeta Beta Tau.
Phi Ep probably disappeared at Brown because it was never sanctioned by the university’s administration. The local Menorah Society continued to grow and reached its apex in 1928 with 42 members. It disbanded two years later.
I sought to learn as much as I could about each of the 14 Phi Ep brothers portrayed in the 1916 or ’17 photo. Most, from the Classes of 1916 through 1919, died during the 1960s and ’70s, however. I knew only one brother, Walter Adler, a prominent lawyer and a president of Temple Beth-El, who died in 1991 aged 94. I was acquainted with one of his three daughters, Susan Adler Kaplan, a Pembroke alumna who became a trustee. She too has passed away.
The simplest way to characterize the 14 Phi Ep brothers is noting their graduation records. Only 10 obtained Brown degrees. In my article for the 2003 issue of Rhode Island Jewish Historical Notes, I wrote a few paragraphs about each brother, but perhaps we should honor all of them by reciting their names: Maurice Adelman, Walter Adler, Maurice Bazar, Charles Bolotow, Abraham Burt, Joseph Cohen, Herman Davis, Herman Feinstein, Arthur Levy, George Lubinsky, Isaac Olch, Daniel Robinson, Jacob Rosenberg and Samuel Silverman.
They can also be categorized by their birthplaces. Only two were born abroad: one in Russia, another in Austria. Eight brothers were Providence natives; three were Fall River natives and one was born in New York City.
I believe that the 10 Phi Ep graduates, including a few who earned Phi Beta Kappa keys and masters’ degrees, accomplished something important. Having survived demanding courses in numerous disciplines, they became broadly educated.
For the smartest or most driven men, Brown provided steppingstones for advancement in medicine, law and teaching. Yet, did Walter Adler’s degree from Harvard Law make him more successful than Arthur Levy, who earned his law degree at B.U.? Their achievements seem comparable.
A Brown degree did not necessarily lead to professional success. Some Jewish graduates may not have risen much higher than their fathers. Indeed, many went to work for their fathers. They struggled in small businesses and in fading industries, where a liberal education meant little to clients. Perhaps Phi Ep’s most successful businessman was Joseph Cohen, who graduated from the school of risk-taking, good luck and perseverance.
Most Phi Ep brothers never left or soon returned to Little Rhody. They spent almost all their years within an area traversable by foot. They were loyal to their community, content with their lot or perhaps fearful of a larger world.
Through marriage, most members of Phi Ep moved beyond their Orthodox upbringing. Indeed, the Reform and Conservative movements became means of social advancement.
A few did not marry, and others did not have children. Two fraternity brothers, Walter Adler and George Lubinsky, had as many as three children.
The Phi Ep brothers sent children, grandchildren and nephews to their alma mater. No doubt legacies received some preference, but admission to Brown became ever more competitive, especially after World War II.
Around 1903, an anthem, “I’m a Brown Man Born,” became popular. Its first verse proclaimed: “I’m a Brown man born, I’m a Brown man bred, And when I die, I’m a Brown man dead.” Without a pedigree based on membership in the Baptist church or a father’s education, none of the Phi Ep brothers was “a Brown man born.”
There can be no doubt, however, that most Phi Ep brothers rejoiced in their Brown achievements and associations. They belonged to a university that was in some sense its own fraternity.
Many Phi Eps were blessed with good health and long, productive lives. There were five nonagenarians.
As proud Americans, many brothers were willing and ready to serve in World War I. Alas, some were unable to graduate because of military service. One Phi Ep, Jacob Rosenberg, Class of 1916, lost his life during the war, and his name is enshrined on Soldiers Gate, erected on campus on April 6, 1921, the fourth anniversary of America’s entry into the war. But Rosenberg died of pneumonia, not in combat.
His classmate, Jacob Sidkowsky, who was not a Phi Ep member, did die in combat, and his name too is enshrined there. Neither classmate was a “Brown man born,” but both became “Brown men dead.”
One Phi Ep brother, George Lubinsky, enjoyed the distinction of serving in both World Wars. He served 15 months in the first war and 51 months in the second achieving the rank of captain in the military police.
Lubinsky played center field on Brown’s baseball team. It’s tempting to think that most of his fraternity brothers hit home runs by studying at or graduating from one of New England’s oldest and most competitive universities. They became trailblazers for the thousands of proud Jewish men and women who have followed.
GEORGE M. GOODWIN, of Providence, is the editor of Rhode Island Jewish Historical Notes. He writes a monthly column for Jewish Rhode Island. This paper was presented during Brown’ celebration of 130 years of Jewish enrollment.