Dowling College simply fades away . . .
Dowling College, which closed its doors in 2016 in Oakdale, pictured in 2020. Credit: /Morgan Campbell
College is on my mind. Students are preparing for their spring semesters, and my youngest son is soon to begin studying for his master’s degree in physical education. Then I think of my undergraduate college, which is no more.
Many Dowling College Golden Lions alumni were devastated when we learned on Aug. 31, 2016, that our beloved college, after 48 years, would close its doors forever. We had read that it was struggling financially, but we were shocked it had come to this.
We reached out to old college friends to share the sad news, and many posted comments and photos on social media. They shared special memories about the Idle Hour Boulevard campus situated alongside the Connetquot River in the sleepy town of Oakdale.
Those of us who spent four years there and lived on campus felt the loss more than those who commuted. We grew up there, arriving as naive students and leaving with lifelong friends, cherished memories and diplomas that we displayed with pride.
I majored in English and creative writing, wrote front-page articles for the college paper, The Lion’s Voice, and have fond memories of being a cheerleader and taking my first plane ride to Kansas City, Missouri, when Dowling’s men’s basketball team made the national playoffs. I also enjoyed being a member of the Scrabble club, of BOSS — the Black Organization for Student Strength — and being selected cotillion queen and participating in student government.
Other memories? Of course. I worked in the campus bookstore in the carriage house and served weak martinis to professors in the campus watering hole, the Lion’s Den, and took a memorable trip to see “For Colored Girls Who Have Committed Suicide / When the Rainbow is Enuf)” at Manhattan’s Booth Theatre.
Most important, I met my future husband on campus during my first days as a freshman in the mid-’70s.
Thousands of us grew up on the campus, learning in the classrooms of the Idle Hour mansion built around 1903 by railroad heir William K. Vanderbilt. We studied on the bank of the Connetquot River and in the Lion’s Den, where many friendships and courtships started. And, of course, we had all-night sessions in our apartment-style dormitories, the site of unforgettable parties and late-night talkfests.
The school had its challenges. For example, the basketball team had no gymnasium to host a game or practice in, and fraternities and sororities were nonexistent. Instead, the carriage house hosted toga parties, dances and intramural basketball dunk contests. Few students of color attended the school, but those who were there supported each other and became forever friends.
We’ve been proud of our Dowling diploma, and some of us returned to visit the campus over the years. I once wanted my son to attend Dowling but am glad he chose the New York Institute of Technology in Old Westbury because that school doesn’t look like it will close its doors anytime soon.
The saddest part is that we haven’t really had a chance to grieve our Dowling College loss. Perhaps if there had been a memorial service by the river or in one of the mansion’s ballrooms, we all could have shared our memories and sadness at seeing our home away from home dissolve away. But we are left to mourn as best we can our beloved college, whose motto was “Learning, Wisdom and Compassion.”
n READER BEVERLY ROBINSON
lives in Hempstead.
