1978 President Brown succumbs to cancer.

In December 1976, the faculty and administration held a Christmas party in the south end of the cafeteria. Kids painted own Christmas tree ornaments , and Harvey Synder played Santa Claus. Reuben Welch gave a brief version of his chapel talk on the theology of the Christmas carols. It was a pleasant time of community spirit. At the end of the evening President Brown stood, brought greetings, and noted that he was having a little difficulty with his eyes. He had dark spots in his peripheral vision, he said, and asked for prayer when he went to see his doctor later in the week. Little did anyone know.

Brown's eye examination was inconclusive, but his eyesight continued to deteriorate. The doctors were unsure what was causing the trouble with the optic nerve. The logical explanation was a tumor pressing on the optic nerve, but they could not find one. So they performed exploratory surgery on November 30, 1977. Dr. Wilbert Little assisted. A few others, including Jack Morris, Keith Pagan, Ron Kirkemo, Bob Foster, and Vic Heasley, came to wish Brown well and await the outcome. When it was over a visibly shaken Little came down to meet the group.

"On a scale of 1 to 10," Foster said, "how bad is it?"

"It's the very worst," Little replied. The doctors had found the tumor they suspected, he explained, but it was large, malignant, and tightly attached to the optic nerve. There was no way to remove it.

It was a depressing year for most. The 75th anniversary celebration died, as the administration now focused on the health of the president. He was losing his sight rapidly, and his chief lieutenants had to carry more of the administrative work. In March he created two new posts of vice president, one for Foster and one for Pagan, and brought all of the campus under those two offices.

One element of the 75th anniversary was not abandoned. The Faculty Council organized a testimonial to the leadership of the president, under whose leadership of only 14 years the massive deficit had been paid off, the curriculum rationalized, the college relocated to Point Loma, the governance structure reformed, a standard of excellence made tangible, 80% of the present faculty hired, and over one-half of all the graduates in the history of the college had graduated. Initially conceived before anyone knew he was sick, and because of a deep appreciation for what he had done for the college, it became a tribute to the man.

The character of that dinner reflected the ethos of the college. It was financed by the faculty. There was no head table, but the president sat at a table on the main floor in a clear symbol of the collegiality, the new way in which people had been able to work together, in a social institution that was not the community it used to be. The dinner was held in the Versailles Room at the Westgate Hotel, the finest location in town, reflecting the new feeling that the college had finally arrived at a new position of quality. Tributes to his administrative, spiritual, and academic leadership were read that truly celebrated the man and his seminal role in creating the new conditions at the institution. Then Fordyce Bennett, Noel Fitch, and James Jackson, Sr., read selections from his favorite poems.

Having rescued the college in Pasadena, brought it to San Diego and rebuilt it, Brown could not believe he would have to lay down the charge that had been placed on him in darker times and be denied the opportunity to lead it on toward greatness. He was certain he would be healed, that his knowledge and experience, direction and protection of the college would not vanish. Chemotherapy treatments failed to kill the cancer, and its effects aged the man who so enjoyed life. The wig he used maintained his self-image in public, but the faculty and students could see his deterioration. U.S. Senator Mark Hatfield delivered the commencement address, and Brown, now completely blind, presided over the ceremonies and handed each graduate his or her diploma.

The mind of God. The sovereignty of God. The will of God. So many on the campus wondered how these operated in this instance. This time it was not the clash of men and ideas that forced people to face these issues as in 1916, nor the shock of a sudden accident like that of O. J. Finch. This time it was the sight of a man at the height of his powers and potential, dying far before his time. In the end each had to accept the fact that the heart of Christianity is not an alliance with a deity whose goal is to satisfy our needs for happiness, self-esteem, and fulfillment. The heart of Christianity is faith-a faith in the existence and goodness of God despite conditions and events. Each has to wait for the inevitable outcome.

The flag at half-staff announced the news to those arriving on campus on October 3, 1978-the president had died. A memorial service was held in the Greek amphitheater, and the remarkable Shelburne Brown was gone.

From For Zion's Sake By Ron Kirkemo


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