“Our American Stories” often begin in unexpected places, born from deep conviction and a commitment to principle. One such story belongs to Hillsdale College, founded in 1844 by Freewill Baptists who fiercely believed in abolition and liberty. This wasn’t just another school; it was a beacon, attracting students who shared a passion for truth, justice, and a better America. As the nation edged closer to its greatest conflict, the Civil War, these core values would face their ultimate test, defining not only the college but the courageous American people who walked its halls.

These weren’t the privileged sons and daughters of wealth, but young men and women from humble homesteads, accustomed to hard work and deeply religious. Their education at Hillsdale was rigorous, a blend of classical learning and practical labor, all debated within vibrant literary societies that tackled the pressing issues of the day. When the drums of war began to beat, these Hillsdale College students—driven by patriotism and a profound understanding of freedom and citizenship—were ready to answer the call. Their actions would weave an unforgettable chapter into the fabric of American history, showing how conviction can forge character and change a nation.

📖 Read the Episode Transcript
This is Leigh Habib, and this is Our American Stories, the show where America is the star and the American people. To search for The American Stories podcast, go to the iHeartRadio app or wherever you get your podcasts. Hillsdale College is a great friend of this show and has been for years. All of our history stories, we’re sponsored by this remarkable place. By the way, if you can’t get to Hillsdale, go to Hillsdale by going to Hillsdale.edu and signing up for all their free and terrific online courses. Hillsdale College’s motto is, “Pursuing truth and defending liberty since 1844.” The first great test of that motto came during the Civil War, and her students met the challenge. Here’s Hillsdale College Professor Peter Jennings with the story.

The Civil War was a defining moment in the life of our college. It defined who we are and what we stand for. Well, Hillsdale College was founded in 1844, an abolitionist college. That’s what we were known as. We were founded by Freewill Baptists, which is a Christian sect. It was rather small. It was originally founded in Massachusetts, New England area, in the 1700s, around the time of the Revolutionary War. Freewill Baptists were stout-hearted Christians that cherished liberty, and they abhorred all kinds of slavery, including chattel slavery, southern slavery. So they were known as abolitionists, these Freewill Baptists. These people were part of the migration from New England into New York and then eventually into what was known as the Old Northwest, specifically Michigan, and started communities, religious communities, these Freewill Baptist communities, and they are people that were also strong believers in education. So as soon as they settled an area, they started schools. And one of the things that they started was a college: Hillsdale College, our college founded by these abolitionist Freewill Baptists. And they attracted like-minded people from all across the Old Northwest. A lot of folks, maybe half the students, were from Michigan, but we also drew a lot of students back from Freewill Baptist communities in New York, as well as Pennsylvania, and throughout the Midwest: Ohio, Illinois, Indiana, Wisconsin. They drew a fairly diverse population from those areas. Though we were non-sectarian, we were known as a Christian college and an abolitionist college. And to be an abolitionist back then, in the antebellum years, decades prior to the Civil War, was not a popular thing to do. So for the college to take an overt stance on abolitionist principles—freedom, equality, justice—was a fairly strong position to take. So the students that it had attracted back then tended to come from homes that had shared like-minded principles. Our kids, unlike kids that went to the elite Eastern schools—Harvard, Yale, places like that—our kids were not privileged kids. They were not wealthy kids. Most of our kids grew up on humble homesteads. They were accustomed to working and grew up in that kind of a frontier homestead environment. But also, deeply religious people with a commitment to freedom, equality, and justice—abolitionist principles. But they’re also a patriotic kind of people. They grew up not as peasants or serfs or slaves, but as citizens. They were working their own land, their own property, and enjoying the fruit of their own labor. And the point I’m getting at is, these kids grew up not only deeply religious, but also patriotic because it was in this country where people like them had an opportunity to enjoy the freedom of citizenship. So that was the kind of school that we were, and it attracted students with that kind of upbringing, with those kinds of values, that came to college as an opportunity to broaden and deepen their education beyond what they got on their homesteads. The college prospered, and it became a sizable college for the time. In 1861, for example, there were three hundred and fifty male students and two hundred and three female students, and that was a sizable college. The only other college in Michigan that was of that size or a little larger was the University of Michigan. So we were a very successful, prosperous college, but still, with a population of some five hundred students and a couple dozen faculty, it’s still a fairly small, tight-knit community. College life back then was different than it is today. Students basically did two things: they had class, rigorous studies. It was a fixed curriculum, not this elective system with majors and all that stuff that we’re all familiar with today. But there was a fixed, what we understand as a classical liberal arts curriculum. Everybody took the same curriculum. It was a fixed, four-year program, and they worked. Our students were largely middle and poor income-level students, and so students worked, and the college itself didn’t have a maintenance department or anything to maintain the college. Everybody pitched in and worked. There was a day set aside during the week for work when all the students would work, and they would perform tasks of maintaining the college, cutting wood and all that kind of stuff to maintain the college. So college life back then was basically two things: it was class—these intensive liberal arts studies—and work. Students worked to earn their way through college. And the other thing that’s really important to understanding college life in the community back then were something called literary societies. And most people are familiar with the Greek system in most colleges today. Students back then didn’t have attorneys or sororities, but they had literary societies. They were Greek organizations: two for men, two for women. They wrote essays and had speech competitions, oratory competitions, mainly focused on the issues of the day. And Mondays were set aside for meetings for literary societies. And this is the one we would call it extracurricular activity of college life. Then students went to class, students worked, students studied. There were no sports or any extracurricular activities, except for these literary societies. Men and women would attend each other’s society meetings and hear each other’s speeches, and that would be a chance for them to socialize. The point is, that’s where these students would develop deep friendship bonds as students addressed the issues of the day and interacted with each other not just intellectually, but also socially. And we’ve been listening to Hillsdale College Professor Peter Jennings tell one heck of a story. All of that classical learning they were doing, they were applying to real-life matters and concerns, and one day it wasn’t just essays they were writing. They had to show up and fight, and indeed they did. They did by messaging the governor that they were strapped up and ready for service. The slavery question, they knew, had to be responded to by force. These boys of ours, the professor said, put down their books and served. Five hundred and three served in the army. All were volunteers, and four were recipients of the Medal of Honor. One hundred lost their lives, one hundred and thirty were disabled, a forty-five percent casualty rate. When we come back, more of this remarkable story of selflessness and courage and service, here on Our American Stories. And we returned to Our American Stories and to Hillsdale College Professor Peter Jennings, who had just told us about the reaction of Hillsdale students to the Confederate attack on Fort Sumter and how they enlisted in the Union Army by the hundreds. Peter Jennings continues with the story. As college men back then, less than two percent of the total population, or college graduates—a smaller number, much smaller number than today. So to be a college student back then, to be a college graduate, was somewhat exceptional. And what’s interesting about our kids is that they enlisted, accepted the place and pay of regular soldiers in the ranks, rather than pursue plush positions that they could very easily have sought after as college kids. They would have had access to privileged positions, political positions; they could have pulled wires. That would have been something they could have eat very easily done, as it was commonplace back then. Our kids didn’t. They enlisted, and they enlisted because that’s the kind of kids they were. Because they weren’t elite, privileged kids. These were, as I mentioned earlier before, most of our kids were poor kids that grew up on the frontier, and they’re used to working. And they had a deep sense of proper sense of humility, and they weren’t going to shirk and try and get out on easy duty when it came to a fight. They were going to shoulder rifles and do the fighting. What’s interesting, though, is they were college kids, and they were Christians, and so they were a little different than the average soldier in the ranks, particularly in the Western units comprised of Western men out here on the frontier—a rougher breed of man. Our kids didn’t drink; they didn’t swear; they didn’t play poker, and they didn’t engage.