Dr. James E. Newton: Ubuntu, Good Brother, Ubuntu! | Opinion

In Parker vs. Delaware (1950), the famed attorney Louis Redding argued before the Delaware Court of Chancery that denying Black students admission to the University of Delaware was unconstitutional and violated the "separate but equal" provisions set forth in Plessy vs. Ferguson (1896). The plaintiffs in Parker were students from then Delaware State College — known today as Delaware State University.

Chancellor Collins Seitz was the presiding judge and ruled in favor of the plaintiffs. From that moment, the practice of denying Black students admission to the University of Delaware based on their race was not just morally reprehensible, it was against the law; this was another precedent-setting standard in the careers of both Seitz and Redding.

What this decision did not portend, however, were harmonious race relations at the University. It has been well documented that Black students had been, and still were, mired in an environment filled with racial prejudice for generations at the University. They encountered negative attitudes and behaviors at every turn — in their residence halls, from their classmates, and in interactions with their professors.

Acknowledging and recounting such moments is necessary but not nearly as material as how Black students fared despite enormous odds. In the face of an immature country, which was, in the 1950s, still dealing with basic prescriptions for fairness — access to drinking water and restrooms, service at restaurants, seating at competitions and theaters — Black students, though small in number, thrived.

Why?

One central answer is Dr. James E. Newton.

His background was broad. He was a South Jersey kid who made his way to one of the great historically Black college and universities, North Carolina Central University, to study art. He then went "up the road a piece" to become the first African American to graduate with a Master of Fine Arts from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and eventually, he would receive his doctoral degree in education.

In 1972, he arrived at a “post-Parker” University of Delaware, teaching Black American Studies. He quickly became the go-to resource for any Black student trying to find their way in a wilderness of uncertainty. At an institution where many former students, including me, can recount the days when you could go an entire week without seeing other Black students or professors, finding Newton and his class was not just whetting our academic curiosity, it was chicken soup for the beleaguered soul.

And Professor Newton was not easy.

He often spoke of the importance of Black excellence as a bridge to the future. He reminded us that just as Dubois, Booker T., Tubman, Malcolm, Martin, Fannie Lou and Redding had stood in the gap for us, we, too, had that responsibility for others. He expected tremendous comprehension of the academic material and even more from us as growing young Black citizens. It was as if he knew that trials would come early and often at the institution. So, he taught uncompromising decorum and coached articulate responses to abuses of power ... and Black Pride, always Black Pride. He was an award-winning artist of significant import, but we were his canvas in the classroom. I would submit that his best and most influential works can be found within all of us, his students.

I did not arrive on the campus until 1988. I was a young, apathetic political science major with a penchant for parties and play. But he saw something more and then demanded more. In my seminal moment at the University of Delaware — "a routine traffic stop" by University police for "driving suspiciously" — it was Newton who, using his rhythmic voice, pressed me to recognize the fierce urgency of now. It was not easy for a 20-year-old to endure a night behind bars and then go about the business of helping organize what remains the largest protest against racial profiling in the University's history. That urgency — the urgency Newton instilled in me — has never left me. It is the same urgency now intrinsic to anyone fortunate enough to have been touched by his brilliance.

We lost Newton on May 24. When we heard the news, all of Black Blue Hen Nation remembered moments with our walking, living piece of Black history. Here are just a few quotes I read from generations of classmates that day.

“For generations of #BlackBlueHens at the University of Delaware, there was a Professor whose classes were like an oasis. That Professor was Dr. Newton. He was Professor, mentor, counselor, confidant, and comforter for many students. He walked on campus—always cool, always smooth, and he always greeted you.”

“I bet you can hear his voice anytime you watch a documentary about African American history or when you hear terms like ‘code-switching’ (which he called being ‘bi-dialectic’). Dr. Newton was our sage, our wise man. If you were struggling with the day-to-day challenges at UD, you could go to him for guidance, a word of encouragement, or just to talk.”

“I was protected and encouraged by Dr. Newton on many a day when I felt like giving up. Many times, he would offer me encouragement, quietly providing history or knowledge. I would listen carefully and pass on the necessary facts or strategies so we could prepare or resist. He was a baddddd brother!!!!!!! He kept it real!!!!!”

“For many of us, Dr. Newton was our first introduction to ‘wokeness,’ and I had to create many a flash card to keep up in his Intro class! Sheesh!”

“On many occasions, Dr. Newton would give advice when we were asked about situations that he called 'funky.' In Newton-English, the sentences were never completed, the advice never compulsory, and the moral of the story never revealed. Dr. Newton wanted us to know that we had the talents for solving issues, revealing our abilities, and surmounting those challenges.”

“You are an anchoring root to so many of our trees of life. May we carry the legacy and bear the fruit that keeps the fire burning.”

In 2017, I made the best professional decision of my career: joining Delaware State University. When I announced, I felt deeply a host of ancestors cheering me on. I want to think that the chorus included those Delaware State College students from 1950 who opened up doors for generations of young scholars yet unborn. But I know for sure that chorus included Newton, who I saw beaming with pride. It was a moment I will never forget.

Four days after Newton passed, my dear friend, University of Delaware President Dennis Assanis, awarded  Newton a posthumous honorary degree at the Commencement ceremony. He told me that awarding the degree had already been in the works before Newton took ill. He then emphatically noted the importance of the professor's life to the state of Delaware and to each of our University communities.

All I could say in response was, "INDEED."

Newton was a scholar, an artist, a griot — the one who shaped generations of us without fanfare or praise. Late last year, one of my longtime mentors, Dr. Norma Gaines Hanks, also a Newtonite, sent me a letter highlighting her retirement and noting the Zulu philosophy of Ubuntu—“I am because you are.”

That is how I will forever think of Jim Newton.

Ubuntu, good brother! Ubuntu . . . Your student always!

Tony Allen is president of Delaware State University. He is a 1993 and 2001 graduate of the University of Delaware and served on its board of trustees for eight years.

This article originally appeared on Delaware News Journal: Remembering University of Delaware's Dr. James E. Newton