was elected to the college’s board of
trustees. People in Raleigh had put up
$35,000 for Trinity. Duke let it be known
he would go that plus $50,000 if the
Methodists would move to the west side of
Durham.
The Duke family’s money might have
come from cigarettes and snuff, but its
legacy is quality higher education. Buck
Duke bankrolled knowledge and cultural
advancement — whether he did it in part
to burnish his legend, most people would
agree, is secondary.
Small college names are for sale from
time to time even today — you might get
one for less than the cost to name one of
the professional schools at Carolina. But
what is catching on is donor-named buildings. A quick look at the chronology
plainly shows that while some of the oldest
buildings bear the names of donors, the
business has picked up in the past 15 years.
Make no mistake: Naming of new classroom and lab buildings going up at Carolina today is available to great teachers and
good souls only as a fallback; first and foremost, they are for sale, because it’s no
longer possible for a public university to
be world-class today within the limitations
of public money.
The state wouldn’t let Carolina go
without an adequate business school, but it
wouldn’t be the stately, richly appointed
building high on the hill without a big gift
from Hugh McColl ’ 57. The Graham
Memorial would be around, but the elegant Great Lounge might still be a drama
rehearsal room. The UNC sports program
certainly wouldn’t have a veritable
Olympic village of envied facilities; you can
get a Tin Can cheap, but for a modern cli-mate-controlled indoor football practice
field and track such as the Eddie Smith
Field House, you need donors such as
Eddie Smith ’ 65. Buildings such as Hyde
Hall, home of the Institute for the Arts and
Humanities, and the Sonja Haynes Stone
Center for Black Culture and History —
built with donors’ money and named to
honor Stone — likely wouldn’t exist.
Standing in April beneath a sweeping
stone archway engraved with “W. Lowry
and Susan S. Caudill Laboratories,” Lowry
Caudill ’ 79 did a number on the hardest
cynics of the naming system. Caudill, who
parlayed the study of chemistry into a private business fortune, choked up several
times as he thanked his high school
teacher, his inspiring parents and the people
whose vision built UNC’s chemistry
department. And UNC thanked him.
The gleaming, graceful Caudill Labs
houses the top-ranked analytic chemistry
program in the country, and the contrast
less than 20 feet away — the dilapidated
and soon-to-be-razed Venable Hall —
could not have painted a clearer message.
Chancellor James Moeser pointed to Venable and told nodding scientists and students it was “a great department in spite of
the facilities with which they had to contend.” Caudill predicted, “This will be an
incredible time to be a scientist at UNC.”
The big building
campaigns of the
first half of the
20th century are
commemorated
mostly in the
names of teachers,
legislators, military
leaders and other
public servants,
and some
industrialists.
Private money
sufficient to earn
naming rights
figured in just
21 of the roughly
125 buildings
constructed on the
campus through
1980. Just fewer
than half of those
built since then
are graced with
donors’ names.
DAN SEARS ’ 74
Lowry Caudill ’ 79 at the chemistry labs dedication. On pages
20 and 21: Louis Round Wilson (class of 1899) got his name
in stone for 58 years of service; new to old Polk Place, to
Wilson’s right, the Caudill Laboratories building was named
with a $3 million donation.
