Roosting in the Big Apple for several days during break, I had a peculiar Obie-meets-Obie encounter. Though not enrolled in the Conservatory, I spent the time perched in a bunk at Juilliard, likely the most famous Western music school around. Upon arrival, it was not long before I discovered that many students on this sacred artistic ground were convinced that Oberlin was no more than a shortened version of “The Oberlin Conservatory,” a well-regarded musician’s boot camp large percentages had applied to as freshmen. When I introduced to them the plain reality of our liberal arts college, the majority was struck, in fact, that such a thing really existed.
Yet my serendipitous Obie encounter was odder than being in the middle of the biggest city in our nation with an elite group of dedicated, albeit tunnel-minded musicians. I attended a Juilliard Christian Fellowship meeting Thursday, an intriguing combination for musicians and me, since neither the usual musician nor the prototypical Obie are generally pious enough to do more than attend church—assuming, of course, one practices religion at all. That is no way meant as a knock on those who do; I was, in fact, happy to see a large showing of Juilliard followers at JCF. But I was not expecting to be in a position where I would meet someone like Angelina.
“You’re visiting New York? From where?” she asked from the piano, warming up on the songs for praise. “Ohio, about 30 minutes outside Cleveland.” “Oh, wait…” she trailed off. “I go to Oberlin.” Her face lit up. “You’re an Obie? I’m an Obie too!” My face lit up. “Really?” “Yeah. Graduated in ’01.”
Something passed between us in that moment of recognition—a joint pride that connected us for the rest of the time we sang, prayed, and talked together that night and in the following days. It did not matter that she was a piano major who won the annual Conservatory concerto competition and I am a writer who works for the lowly college newspaper. Something about being Obies let us understand many things about each other, and I left that evening knowing we had something spiritually, if not religiously, in common.
That Oberlin spirit has a history attached that is well worth exploring.
Con and College: Pioneers of Progress

Everybody on campus (and their mother and father, too) knows that Oberlin has played an influential role in this country’s education. There is no question that, since the college was founded in 1833, branching off into music and a boarding high school very soon afterwards, Oberlin has been a pioneer of progress.
The stories of Oberlin admitting women from day one are well-known, and a point of principle for the school. Though for a long time, the school was still segregated — Wilder was built in 1909 for men only, as was all of north quad, and women in the 1800s were still washing their classmates’ clothes — the bottom line was Oberlin was teaching all who wanted to attend, not simply those of the right gender.
However, fewer people today realize that the Con is the oldest music training school in the United States — and, from the start, it also allowed women (and blacks, for that matter) to enroll. Founded in 1841, the Conservatory ran independently until it merged to become a division of the college in 1867. Though little is known about the Con at it’s founding besides a few publicity brochures and boxes upon boxes of recital programs, it has been an integral part of the college and community for over a century and a half.
The idea then that the Con didn’t exist before the white radiator-inspired décor infested campus couldn’t be farther from the truth —the Con’s previous building was, in fact, the stately Rice Hall. This structure, named after professor Helen Rice, has significance to the Con the way Finney and Fairchild do to the college as a whole. Director of the Conservatory for 31 years, Rice raised the artistic standards and encouraged the rapid growth that brought the Con to prominence in this country. That her namesake is now home to the Humanities Department of the College shows exactly how indivisible the Con and the college really are in the scheme of things.
But there is more to connect the two sides of campus. In another progressive cause, Oberlin is famous for it’s role as a leader in the education of blacks and in fighting for racial justice. By 1900, the believed figure is that one-third of all blacks who graduated in the United States graduated from Oberlin. As well, Oberlin was a key stop on the Underground Railroad and three Oberlin faculty and students also plotted and played important roles in John Brown’s Armory Raid in Harper’s Ferry, Virginia, a year before the Civil War.
Yet the Con has also made a significant impact. It has likewise served blacks since its early founding, and has been involved in other politics to boot. In the ’50s, in the wake of WWII, when national sentiment was still turned on the Japanese, the Conservatory, thanks to the help of a Japanese student, was the first to pioneer the “Suzuki Method” by Shinichi Suzuki and introduced the practice to the U.S. This method of instrumental study is a now-popular teaching style across the country, and known to virtually all violin teachers around the world.
The Conservatory also formed the eyebrow-raising and Iron Curtain-shattering “American Soviet Youth Orchestra” in 1988 to bring the two sparring countries together in a series of world tours and concerts. This highly controversial orchestra featured instrumental students from Oberlin and around the U.S. with their counterparts from the Soviet Union. In 1991, after the fall of communism, the orchestra was renamed, but continued to tour into the late ’90s and was endorsed by Naina Yeltsin, wife of former Russian President Boris Yeltsin, and Hillary Clinton, on a joint pledge of cooperation.
In all cases, the Con and college can claim a piece of the music education and liberal arts fame respectively, and neither can claim to outdo the other. There are probably many more examples to bear, but the trend remains the same:
Oberlin is a progressive campus — Con and college.


For Angelina and I, we are part of that joint history, and what makes the Oberlin spirit so unique. Even if vegan Obies come believing the Conservatory is meant to protect the environment and Con students arrive thinking theirs is the only building on campus, we all leave here with a similar notion about what exactly an “Obie” is. We are shaped by this history — not by our divisions.
The spirit will live on.