Black History Month: Lewis Davis, Otterbein, and The Underground Railroad

Posted Feb 03, 2025

Note: This story is adapted from a presentation by Otterbein archivist Stephen Grinch ’98. You can view the full presentation at https://digitalcommons.otterbein.edu/libraryprograms/4/.

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Rev. Lewis Davis

[Rev. Lewis] Davis was always a thorough anti-slavery man,” wrote his biographer, Henry Adams Thompson. While a sentiment one might expect of one of the founding fathers of Otterbein University, within the context of the time was very unusual, and one might even consider it miraculous that Davis felt this way.

Davis was born on Valentine’s Day, Feb. 14, 1814, in rural Craig County, Virginia.  Slavery was a common practice in that state, and it is assumed that young Davis would have been exposed to it from a young age. His home life was one of hard work and little education, with no significant religious influence present.

At age 18 he was sent to apprentice with a local blacksmith, who recognized the potential in Davis to do great things. The blacksmith gave him books to read, and “talked school to him,” as biographer Thompson put it. Davis joined a local debate society, which is credited with preparing him for his work as both a minister and a teacher.  In addition, the blacksmith was a very religious man, a Methodist, and local ministers were frequent visitors to his home. In this way, Davis was educated and drawn to Christianity.

There was no question in anyone’s mind that Davis would become a preacher. However, instead of joining the Methodist Episcopal Church to follow his calling, he joined a small, poor, unostentatious, and reformatory group called the United Brethren Church. One reason for this decision was that, at least in Virginia, the Methodist Episcopal Church had reconciled themselves with slavery, and many members of the church were, if not slave owners themselves, vocal supporters of the institution. Davis considered this to be an evil practice and would not join with any church that condoned it.

In 1838, Davis was granted his license to preach, and in the spring of 1839, he joined the Scioto Conference as an itinerant minister. Though most of Ohio was abolitionist, Davis encountered a fair amount of resistance to his preaching against slavery. In one town he was turned out of his lodgings and his horse was turned loose after a sermon.

Even in Westerville, a town which Otterbein professor and historian Harold Hancock described as only having half a dozen residents who opposed the abolition of slavery, Davis would encounter those who felt he was going too far. According to biographer Thompson, one citizen accused Davis and preachers like him of having “done all they could to bring on the [Civil] War.”

Davis agreed with him, saying, “The Saviour said, ‘I came not to send peace on earth, but a sword.’ I advocated the truth, and if that brought on the war, then I am guilty.”

In the early days of Otterbein University, Lewis Davis, William Hanby, and others certainly brought the sword with them. As far as we can determine, we were the first university to be founded as co-educational, and to be open to students regardless of race.

Davis and Hanby had homes that sat side-by-side on Grove Street, and the families worked hand-in-hand as conductors on the Underground Railroad. This was extremely dangerous work, even in what could reasonably be called an enclave of staunch abolitionist support. It wouldn’t take much more that a thoughtless comment from a loose tongue, or a vindictive student who felt himself somehow injured by the presence of runaway slaves to bring down the whole operation, and to land Davis and Hanby in jail.

However, Davis was a man who sought to convert the hearts and minds of those who supported slavery. Biographer Thompson wrote of an incident in the 1857-58 school year:

A young man from the south found his way to the college, and also found a home in the family of the president. He was polite and courteous, a moderate student, but indoctrinated with southern ideas, and of course he believed that slavery was the natural condition of the black man. Mr. Davis was anxious to correct his erroneous views, and took occasion at meal time as the most opportune period, to put his opinions before the student. [The student] became a little annoyed at times, but bore it all patiently. The end came one day when a fugitive slave, on his way north, stopped at the president’s, and [Davis] insisted he should be brought to the table to eat with the family, including the young man. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Under no circumstances could [the student] submit to such indignity. By permission he left the table and went to the hotel to get his dinner. He was very angry.

It speaks highly of Davis that he took this risk, especially since tensions were high at the school due to the admittance of its first African-American student, William Hannibal Thomas. The mistreatment of Thomas by the students and administration is a stain on Otterbein’s history that continues to inspire reflection today. Thomas left Otterbein at the end of the school year and sought employment rather than return to his studies.

Years later, the University sought to make amends and honored Thomas in 1916 he was for his service in the Civil War and once again in 1922 with a commemorative medal for Otterbein’s 75th anniversary. Thomas died in 1935 and was allowed his request to be buried in the Otterbein Cemetery.

As for Lewis Davis, he returned to the school administration in 1858, being named president after ill health forced former president Alexander Owen to resign. Davis continued to be a conductor on the Underground Railroad, presumably through the end of the Civil War. He later was promoted out of office by the hierarchy of the United Brethren Church, by making him a bishop (which was not so much a reward for service as it was the addition of more and harder work to his already full ministerial duties), and by assigning him to teaching duties at the newly founded Union Biblical Seminary in Dayton.

Conductors on the Underground Railroad worked in secrecy, so we are still learning new things about how they worked together to ensure safe passage for runaway slaves. For the protection of all involved, nothing was written down until well after the fact, which is why we are fortunate to know as much as we do about Davis and Hanby’s exploits.

Lewis Davis did not know what the end result of his actions would be, but he never failed to act on his beliefs. Like him, may we all have the courage of our convictions, regardless of what the outcomes may be.