Author’s Note: Feb. 13, 2024 marks the 55th anniversary of the Allen Building Takeover by members of the Duke Afro-American Society, an event that President Price has described as “one of the most pivotal moments in our university’s history.” Duke describes its Centennial as “a historic opportunity to recognize Duke’s extraordinary past, communicate the impact of the present and look toward the potential of Duke’s future.” How will the Duke Centennial acknowledge and celebrate the Black students whose protest changed the school forever?
The excitement was palpable when James B. Duke’s 1924 gift transformed struggling Trinity College into Duke University. W.P. Few, the president of Trinity College, told students that they would have an important part in “launching one of the great education establishments of the world.” The Trinity Chronicle reported that "land would be acquired and buildings constructed adequate for an institution of learning that in time will rival Yale or Harvard.” “Duke 100” — the university’s year-long centennial celebration — will rightfully honor James B. Duke and the other men whose philanthropic work set the foundation for Duke University.
These founders had great ambitions for Duke, but their vision was narrow. They set out to create a premier university catering exclusively to all-white administrators, faculty, students, trustees and alumni. Segregation and Jim Crow infused every aspect of campus life. Duke excluded all Black students, as well as Black faculty and administrators. Duke Chapel, Duke Hospital, Page Auditorium, the dining halls, dorms, the football stadium and the golf course were segregated. Laboring under what they called the “Plantation System,” Black workers held the vast majority of low-wage positions. These workers “were treated as sub-humans,” labor organizer Oliver Harvey recalled. "People were absolutely afraid. . . . I never worked at a place as bad as Duke or as racist." The Carolina Times, Durham's leading Black newspaper, wrote accurately in 1959 that working at Duke for Black people was like “peonage.”
Many point to the arrival of five Black undergraduates at Duke in the fall of 1963 as the moment when Duke turned away from its Jim Crow foundation. While indeed historic, this was not the case. Forced to admit Black students because lucrative federal and foundation grants would stop if it remained segregated, Duke hardly changed in response to the arrival of Black undergraduates. The university adopted an “assimilationist” model of desegregation: Black students were admitted to Duke, but the university would not change. Black students had one option, Duke President Douglas Knight described: “Come in, be white.”
Duke “didn’t realize that integration meant they had to make some changes, too,” Black student leader Chuck Hopkins commented. To him, the administration acted as if “bringing [Black students to Duke] was like bringing the natives into civilization.”
It was Duke’s Black students who forced the university to change. Likening the experience of arriving at Duke in the Sixties as “being cast into a foreign, alien world," these students encountered racism at every turn. In 1967, a group of Black students formed the Duke Afro-American Society and began to make demands of the university. What were they asking for? Changes that would make Duke a place where they too could thrive. They called for more than one Black undergraduate professor, a Black student advisor, a Black Studies department, a ban on the Confederate flag and the playing Dixie at sporting events, a summer transitional program for incoming Black students, more Black students, dedicated space for a Black student union and — critically — better treatment for Duke’s non-academic employees.
Duke resisted change. Looking back years later, Knight believed that the university’s initial refusal to respond to Black student concerns was due to the deep ambivalence many felt about desegregation. According to Knight, many at the university believed that, “Once we have admitted Blacks, what more do they want?” As Knight recalled, “Around me, the attitude was, ‘What’s the hurry?’”
On Feb. 13, 1969, at precisely 8 a.m., approximately 50 members of the Duke Afro-American Society entered the first floor of the Allen Building and occupied the registrar’s and bursar’s office. Risking their personal safety and professional futures, they sought to force a definitive negotiation around their demands.
University leaders appeared unmovable. Within 60 minutes after learning of the occupation, Duke leaders decided to issue a one-hour ultimatum to the students: vacate the Allen Building, or be ejected by force. By late afternoon, Durham city and county police, as well as national guardsmen, had converged in Duke Gardens, and 1500 people had gathered on the quad. Armed with guns, Billy clubs, tear gas and pepper spray, law enforcement marched on the Allen Building in the gathering dusk. Inside Allen Building, Black community leader Howard Fuller had a stark warning for the students. “The guard’s going to come in here,” he told them, “They’ve got weapons. . . . You are going to be a bunch of dead people.”
The Black students left through the front entrance to the Allen Building as police were breaking down the back door. Although the occupation was over, a police riot ensued. With the Black students gone from the Chapel Quad, police battled white students for over an hour. One student reported seeing police striking “everything in their path.”
“I remember thinking at the time that I wouldn’t be surprised if the police actually started shooting people,” another student recalled. “They were so angry.”
“Kent State could very well have happened at Duke,” Black student Bertie Howard thought. “I think the potential was there.” By the time it was over, 19 people were admitted to the Duke Hospital Emergency Room for injuries suffered during the melee.
The Allen Building Takeover and the events that followed changed Duke forever. “The occupation of Allen Building was one of the most pivotal moments in our university’s history,” President Price told participants on the 50th anniversary of the protest. “In the actions that you took, you forever shifted our sails toward the prevailing winds of justice and equality. . . You have forever changed this place for the better and improved the lives of many who followed.”
In this centennial year, we will celebrate James B. Duke and others who have laid the groundwork for the university. But we must also honor the Black students who risked everything to occupy the Allen Building 55 years ago. These students forced the university — after decades of resistance — to turn from its Jim Crow past and start on the path to a vibrant, internationally renowned future. They are the founders of the Duke University we know today.
Duke describes the Centennial as “a historic opportunity to recognize Duke’s extraordinary past, communicate the impact of the present and look toward the potential of Duke’s future.” Hopefully, Duke will use this “historic opportunity” to fully acknowledge and celebrate the central role the university’s first generations of Black students played in launching the school on its trajectory to greatness.
Ted Segal is a Duke alum (T’77) and is a member of the Duke Library Advisory Board and the Advisory Council of the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at Duke. Most of the facts cited in this guest column are sourced from his book, “Point of Reckoning: The Fight for Racial Justice at Duke University,” which was published by Duke University Press in 2021. The opinions expressed herein are those of the author and do not reflect the views of the Library Advisory Board, OLLI at Duke or any other organization or group.
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