Certain places on this campus strike chills in my very innards. Surely everyone can feel this presence of the abyss, this savor of sweet, ancient, festering danger? These places that repulse but somehow draw one inexorably closer? In such a place lies the Perilous Sofa of Prokoptas. At times, one needs a nap, urgently, immediately, and I found myself in such a situation not long ago. Wandering the dusky corridors of the classroom on Curry Hall’s lowest floor, I came, as in a dream, upon a sofa that looked so inviting, so soft, so comfortable that I could not but take a nap on it behind the small stage. But in the middle of my pleasant sleep, a dark shadow fell over me, and I awoke to a man in blacksmith’s attire holding an enormous iron ax in one hand and a thick, twining rope in another. “How disappointing. You’re exactly 3 cubits, 15 1/3 fingers long,” he muttered, and faded into the gloom. Immediately, I knew. It was Prokoptas, the ancient Greek bandit supposedly defeated by the hero Theseus long ago. If you are taller than 5’ 5 1/2”, do not nap upon the Perilous Sofa, lest you wake up to find your height very unpleasantly changed. Resist its cushions, its glorious curtained twilight, its deep, soft embrace, and find some less haunted site to rest from your afflictions. 

Some rooms are not so diabolical, and it may take some time before you realize they are inhabited by ancient terrors from wilder times. The evil of the Chamber of Contemplation is not so easy to miss. Each time I walk by it to get to class, I wish I hadn’t, and each time it lies behind me instead of before, I put it out of my mind. I suppose this is the reason why none of us have thought to question it; we forget before it can drive us to very madness. The Chamber of Contemplation is usually located on the second floor of Jewell Hall, and it houses – well, what it houses should have been obvious. It is a very small, doorless room containing two chairs that face each other. What could it be for except the staring contests of doppelgängers? Late at night, walking from the empty study room, I saw them sitting in the chairs, leaning in, mere inches away from touching, exact mirror images. Each gazed steadily into the identical pupils of the other, moving not at all, toothy grins on their faces. I ran for my life, and I saw no traces of them in the morning, but I know what I witnessed that night and I warn you sincerely: do not go anywhere near the Chamber of Contemplation. I do not know the customs of the Gemini, but their malicious eyes are sharp and their ravenous teeth are even sharper.  

The last dark secret that you must know about the treacherous haunts of William Jewell College is the most mournful, the most melancholy and tragic. Hazardous, yes. Life-threatening, undoubtedly. It invokes a certain visceral pity that may drive you to an untimely end, for deep within a certain building there lies a clutch of rooms that have been set apart forever, consecrated to the rite of Debate. Glittering trophies adorn the tables. The scent of victory laurels lingers in the air. But behind a wide gray door lurks a dark, cavernous recess, and in that dark, cavernous recess reside the Spectres of Debate. Cross not that threshold! Their anger is aroused; the debate room is impure! Those who have not completed the sacred ritual have entered and polluted its sacrosanct forthrightness! At midnight we have heard them vengefully clatter and bellow in the dim light of the cave, and indeed even in the afternoon, when I took this photo, I very nearly was grasped by their cold hands and dragged into the abyss, although I had completed the rite of temporary passage. Even still I feel their phantasmal fingers and shudder; my mind can no longer be at peace until they have achieved that final rest for which they yearn, until they have reconciled their grief and outrage by ritual sacrifice. Let this be a warning to the curious, to the seekers of thrill and excitement: go not into the ghastly cavern unless the debate team members permit under the ordinances of the ancient oracle, or the Spectres may devour you in their pursuit of justice breached so long ago. 

If I should disappear mysteriously in the near future, I beg of you, dear reader, consider my warnings and take them to heart. Fear the Perilous Sofa, avoid the Chamber of Contemplation, and by all means, leave the Spectres of Debate in peace. Take care of your safety; the world is wide and dangerous, and there is much we do not know, much that hungers with an insatiable hunger in the deep darkness of William Jewell College’s untamed places.

Be sure to follow the rules and pick up after yourself because nobody wants to deal with your garbage. If someone is already in the study room, that’s okay! This spot can handle two intellectuals. If there is no more room, you can always hang out in the common area nearby.

The best part about the secret study closet is that it is secluded and quiet. I don’t know about you, but I love a good cave to hide in. There is also an entire library’s worth of books in there, so if you need reference material, look no further!

If you are an English major, come check this study spot out! Not an English major? Bummer, dude. Read this previous article from “The Hilltop Monitor” for ideas on other places to study: 

Here’s a tip: make friends with an English major and maybe they will let you have VIP visitor access! 

In 1849, the Board of Trustees, including Dr. William Jewell, Alexander W. Doniphan and Rev. Robert James, decided to commence work on a college in Missouri. Fulton and Boonville put in bids, but the winning bid came from Liberty, Mo.

According to an article entitled “Hall Housed Civil War Troops,” it is well-known that the father of Frank and Jesse James, Rev. Robert James, was a donor to the College. Lesser-known is that Robert James pledged $20, roughly $600 in today’s economy, for the construction of Jewell Hall. Unfortunately he died before his debt was paid, bestowing the responsibility of that debt on his next of kin. This means that it was technically Frank and Jesse James who donated the money that funded construction.

There are multiple reports confirming that Dr. Jewell donated the acres of land on which the College sits. However, one report states that it was James T.V. Thompson who donated the land for the campus. It is difficult to say whether or not the report that Thompson donated the land is reliable. Because there are many more reports attributing the donation of land to Jewell rather than Thompson, it is more reasonable to assume that the man for whom WJC was named was the true benefactor.

Dr. Jewell was a Missouri State Senator and Baptist layman. During his career as a state senator, he fought to abolish whipping posts and pillories. While in many aspects Dr. Jewell was a humanitarian and an advocate for freedom, he was a man of contradictions. According to a 1975 article designed to give information to individuals touring WJC, despite Dr. Jewell’s actions against slavery, he was still at one point a slave owner, and slaves made the the bricks used to build Jewell Hall. According to a document about the dedication of the plaque on Jewell Hall honoring former president John F. Herget, Dr. Jewell freed all of his slaves upon his death and ensured they were given the means to begin a new life.

Construction of Jewell Hall officially began in 1850 and was completed in 1858. Dr. Jewell oversaw construction until his death by sun stroke in 1852. Although he was never professionally trained in architecture or construction, Dr. Jewell had a detailed plan for the College’s focal point. Jewell Hall features Greek-revival style architecture, modeled after a courthouse that Thomas Jefferson designed in Virginia.

Dr. Jewell was meticulous in managing the project. Legend has it that when he came back from a business trip and saw that the construction crew had already built a 160-foot-long and 3-foot-deep wall without a foundation, he made the crew dismantle the wall, dig until they hit bedrock in order to lay a strong foundation, then rebuild. His attention to detail paid off. The Hall stood for years before its remodeling in 1947.

It was discovered during the remodel that it was almost a miracle it stood so strong for so long. While replacing the flooring and taking down some of the ceiling, repairmen found that Jewell Hall was supported almost entirely by white oak trusses instead of brick. The original builders trusted the wood more than they did the bricks used to build the Hall. Despite this supposed flaw in construction, Jewell Hall stood for almost a century, even surviving the Civil War.

During the war, the Hall was commandeered twice for use by the federal government.

After the Battle of Blue Mills Landing Sept. 17, 1861, Jewell Hall was used as a hospital and barracks for Union soldiers for over five weeks. The Union used it again in the summer of 1862 as quarters and a fort in order to ensure that Confederate troops could not march north of the river.

The ground floor of Jewell Hall was used as stables, while the second and third floors were used as housing and for hospitalizing troops. For an unknown reason, the soldiers created a 13-inch hole in the wall of the ground floor. Jewell Hall was used as a centralized location for recruitment and the cupola was used as a lookout.

It is unknown whether Union soldiers were the only troops quartered in Jewell Hall. According to popular thought and most of the articles in the Jewell Archives, WJC was a Union stronghold. However, one article from the Liberty Tribune, dated April 2, 1975, states that both Confederate and Union troops utilized the school grounds. Whether or not Confederate troops used this ground as well is still unclear.

To commemorate Jewell Hall’s use during the Civil War, George Caleb Bingham painted two images of the hall in 1867. Unfortunately, these paintings were destroyed in a fire.

Jewell Hall’s history is punctuated by other significant moments. In 1891, the 1st session of the 51st Congress passed House act 1574. This act recompensed WJC for being used in the Civil War and paid the school $5,200.

In 1920, WJC officially allowed women to enroll as students, marking the first year women were able to achieve higher education at the College and in Jewell Hall.

In 1948, remodeling of the hall was completed and included bathrooms, a new roof, new woodwork, create lecterns and connecting hallways.

Three years after WJC’s 125th anniversary in 1978, Jewell Hall was added to the National Register of Historic Places to commemorate its use in the Civil War and the many years it has stood as a representation of higher education on the western frontier.

Sometime after 1978 a new cupola and shutters were added to Jewell Hall.

Certain materials used in the publication of this work were obtained from the Charles F. Curry Library, William Jewell College, Liberty, Mo.

Photos by Sofia Arthurs-Schoppe.