Remembering How Notre Dame’s Resolve, Spirit Was Forged
Note: On this April 27 date back in 1879, Notre Dame founder Rev. Edward Sorin C.S.C. saw has his life’s work had literally gone up in flames after a disastrous fire at his school that began four days earlier.
His inspiration is something to keep in mind as the university joins others this spring and in the future to overcome another crisis with the COVID-19 pandemic.
“If it were all gone, I should not give up.” — Father Edward Sorin, Notre Dame’s patriarch
Nearly a half-century before Knute Rockne uttered the most inspirational line in college football annals when he implored his battered troops to “Win one for the Gipper” in 1928, Father Sorin’s remark after the school’s Great Fire of 1879 provided the school with the leadership that made it possible to even have a Notre Dame.
Father Sorin bestowed the legacy of triumph against formidable odds. No man in the school’s history possessed more ambition and resolve than Sorin.
As a 27-year-old priest in LeMans, France, in 1841, Sorin embarked upon the first of his dozens of transatlantic crossings, determined to spread the gospel across North America. It took 39 anxiety-filled days before he and his fellow missionaries reached New York. That was the easy part.
They still had to journey to their missionary station in Vincennes, Ind., located in the southern portion of the state. During that expedition by boat, horse and cart, and foot, they survived heavy storms, plus robbers, before finally settling in Vincennes. Their missionary school prospered, and talk of forming a college began.
Sorin and his associates accepted an offer of a 900-acre tract in South Bend, a small community near the Michigan border. There they would build their college and name it after the Mother of God. The 250-mile journey through the snow took 10 days, but when Sorin received his charter for the University of Notre Dame du Lac (French for “Our Lady of the Lake”), he made a promise of thanksgiving:
“When this school, Our Lady’s school, shall grow a bit more, I shall raise Her aloft so that, without asking, all men shall know why we have succeeded here. To that Lovely Lady, raised high on a dome, a Golden Dome, men may look and find the answer.”
One Setback After Another
During the school’s early years it was impoverished and barely kept afloat financially. Not only did Sorin take on the role of fundraiser within the South Bend district and abroad, but he sent a team of brothers to hunt gold in the West.
At one point the school’s working capital was 50 cents, so Sorin had to obtain money by selling his horses. Later Sorin and the brothers had to demolish a nearby dam when it produced a festering ground for cholera that threatened his university.
Several epidemics also hit the campus, one of which wiped out one-fifth of Notre Dame’s students and faculty.
A series of fires at the university during the early years, the most damaging in 1849, created more problems. Because very little of the school’s limited funds were channeled toward insurance, it was set back in its goal of expansion.
Despite the turmoil, Notre Dame, behind Sorin’s uncompromising faith and toil, grew enough by 1879 to be cited in The Chicago Times as the “most flourishing Catholic educational institution in the U.S.,” even though it barely totaled 300 students in its elementary, high school and college programs.
Highlighting the campus was the domed roof (without a statue) of the six-story Main Building. It housed the entire college: classrooms, dormitories, kitchens and dining halls, library and museum. The other structures were the infirmary, St. Francis’ Elderly Men’s Home, the Music Hall, the Minims’ Play Hall and Sacred Heart Church, dedicated in 1871.
By the mid-afternoon hours of April 23, 1879, only the church was left standing.
Up In Flames
At about 11 a.m., flames were seen emerging from the Main Building. There were various theories about their origin, but it was believed the action of the sun on a portion of the roof recently replaced with coal tar ignited the fire. The blaze was seen early by some of the elementary students, and their screaming messages of warning throughout the building prevented the loss of life.
However, an hour passed before the fire department from various shops and offices arrived with a fire engine and three hose carts. By that time, the dome and roof had collapsed, and the fire spread to the other buildings. By 2 p.m. the fire was under control but the campus was “one great pile of smoking, glowing debris which makes one heartsick to see,” reported The South Bend Tribune. Damage was estimated at $200,000. Only one-fifth of that amount was covered by insurance.
For Rev. William Corby, C.S.C., the school’s president, there was still the morbid task of breaking the news to Sorin, who was in Montreal, preparing for another transatlantic crossing.
The 65-year-old Sorin was now superior general of the Holy Cross order, but the University of Notre Dame was still his primary focus. A messenger was sent to Sorin to tell him that his life’s work had gone up in flames. There was fear that the news would have a catastrophic effect on his health.
On Sunday, April 27, Sorin arrived by train to view the destruction. Even though Corby promised the construction of a “new” Notre Dame by September, and committees to raise money were formed in South Bend and Chicago, all eyes were on the school’s patriarch as he walked amid the rubble.
Timothy Howard, a professor at the university, recorded Sorin’s course of action in the wasteland.
“He walked around the ruins and those who followed were confounded by his attitude,” Howard wrote. “Instead of bending, he stiffened. He signaled all of them to go into the church with him.”
There, Sorin left his followers, fellow priests and subordinates amazed with his hope and tenacity.
“This fire has been my fault,” Sorin began. “I came here with the vision of a great university and named it after the Mother of God. Then we had a great building, so I thought. But She had to burn it to the ground to show me that my vision was too narrow and that I had dreamed too small a dream.
“Tomorrow, when the bricks are cooled, we will clean them and begin again. But this time we will build a really large building; and when it is built we will put a gold dome on top with a golden statue of the Mother of God so that everyone who comes this way will know to whom we owe whatever great future this place has.”
“‘If it were all gone, I should not give up’ were his words in closing,” Howard recorded. “The effect was electric. It was the crowning moment in his life. A sad company had gone into the church that day. They were all simple Christian heroes as they came out. There was never more a shadow of a doubt as to the future of Notre Dame.”
Cleanup began the next day, with Sorin among those grabbing a wheelbarrow to haul away the debris. By May 17, ground-breaking began for the new Notre Dame and Sorin stepped to the forefront again: “I will lay the first brick myself, as I laid the first one nearly 40 years ago.”
Stronger Than Ever
For the next six weeks, 300 workers engaged in a 16-hour, seven-days-a-week marathon of rebuilding. By the Fourth of July, the Main Building was erected, but the dome was still missing.
University administrators believed that the extravagant cost wouldn’t be worth it. The school was already struggling to attain financial security, and the dome would only make matters worse.
Again, Sorin refused to bend, as the design of the dome had already been determined. On July 12, students at St. Mary’s College across the road announced they would furnish the new statue of Mary as their gift for the building’s dome. Giovanni Meli, a Chicago artist, undertook the assignment of casting the 19-foot, 4,000-pound iron replica of the Piazza di Spagna in Rome.
In October 1882, the statue was raised to the top of the dome after a day and a half of hoisting.
On Oct. 21, 1893, Father Sorin died with his dream fulfilled but there was still a long road toward prosperity. Even the football program that was started six years before his death had to endure an inferiority complex. The opposition derogatorily referred to the team as “the Catholics.” When Sorin died, the team still had never even had a coach.
When it did start to win big at the turn of the century and requested to join what would turn out to be the Big Ten conference, it was rejected and told to “get a reputation.”
Who would have thought it would become one of America's most famed name? Probably Father Sorin.
Like the resilient patriarch who founded the university, the football team and school has many times risen from the ashes. It was Sorin who set the example to emulate such spirit.
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