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“The Improvement of the Colored School”: Dr. Hupp’s Stand Against Delay and “Expediency”

Writer: Terrill Gosa
Terrill Gosa
Sep 29
7 min read

An 1873 newspaper account captures Dr. Hupp at his most forceful—defending the law, confronting institutional obstruction, and insisting that Wheeling’s Black children receive the education promised to them.


On August 26, 1873, the Wheeling Register published an extraordinary account under the heading “Board of Education.” Its title was deceptively modest: “The Improvement of the Colored School—Statement of the Case by Dr. Hupp.”


The “improvement” at issue was simply an additional classroom in the basement of Wheeling’s Colored School. Yet the controversy surrounding that room revealed something much larger: the distance that could exist between a public institution’s declared commitment to education and its willingness to carry that commitment into effect.


Into that gap stepped Dr. Hupp.


What followed was more than a speech. It was an indictment of delay, a defense of equal educational opportunity and a practical demonstration of how an ally could use his position, voice and vote on behalf of Wheeling’s Black community.


A School Established by the City—but Still Fighting for Resources

By 1873, Wheeling’s publicly supported Colored School was not a new institution. The Wheeling Board of Education had established it in the fall of 1866 as a tax-funded public school. John W. West became its first teacher, later joined by his brother Robert.


That history matters because Dr. Hupp has sometimes been credited with “founding” the school. The surviving records do not support that claim. The school was created by the Board of Education, funded through public taxation and first led in the classroom by Black educators.


Correcting that story does not diminish Dr. Hupp. On the contrary, it allows us to appreciate his actual contribution more clearly.


Seven years after the school opened, Black citizens petitioned the Board for the school to be properly graded so that their children could receive educational opportunities comparable to those offered to white pupils. The 1873 newspaper account said the school had an average monthly enrollment of 67 children, representing every level from the lowest primary grades through grammar school.


Those pupils were being taught by a single teacher, who was reportedly responsible for hearing nearly 30 recitations each day in addition to the other duties of the school.


The request for another classroom was therefore not extravagant. It was an urgent response to overcrowding and an educational structure that placed an unreasonable burden upon one teacher and dozens of students.


The Black Community Made the Demand

It is important to begin where Dr. Hupp began—with the Black citizens who petitioned the Board.


At the Board’s April 17, 1873, meeting, “many of the colored citizens of Wheeling” asked that their school be graded so that Black students might have equal advantages with white students in obtaining a common-school education.


This was not benevolence descending from above. It was community advocacy rising from below.


Black parents and residents identified the problem, presented their case and requested action from the public institution supported by their tax dollars. Dr. Hupp’s importance lies not in replacing their agency, but in listening to it and using his authority as a school commissioner to press their demand inside the Board.


The committee that received the petition did not move with the same urgency. According to Hupp, its members had not even visited the school, where the need would have been plainly visible. After approximately two months, the committee reported that granting the petition was “inexpedient.”


That word—inexpedient—became the target of some of Dr. Hupp’s most memorable oratory.


“The False Wisdom of the Timid and the Weak”

Dr. Hupp began with the law:

“The Board of Education shall afford them, the colored children, the advantages and privileges of a free school education.”

He then made his own position unmistakable:

“When, from any cause, I, as a School Commissioner, can not obey the mandates of the law, this Board will, very promptly, receive my resignation.”

This was not the language of a man offering a mild suggestion. Hupp was declaring that obedience to the law—and the duty owed to Black children—was a condition of his continued service.


Then came the passage that deserves to be remembered among the most powerful surviving statements in Wheeling’s educational history:

“There is a false wisdom of the timid and the weak, which, wearing the alluring name of ‘expediency,’ is ever ready to barter for a moment’s peace the security of ages, and to sacrifice to a moment’s fear the justice of eternity. Not in this school, nor under this guidance, have I been educated.”

Hupp understood how injustice often protects itself. It does not always announce itself openly. Sometimes it hides behind procedure, delay, cost estimates, committee referrals and the supposedly reasonable language of “expediency.”


His message was that justice could not be postponed simply because justice had become inconvenient.


Months of Delay

The controversy had already traveled through a maze of committee action.


The proposal was referred, reported unfavorably, recommitted and delayed. Different dimensions and spending limits were discussed for the proposed classroom. The Board eventually directed its Committee on Buildings and Grounds to contract for the work “without delay” so the room could be completed by September 1.


Still, the work did not proceed.


Builders had submitted proposals for another school project in the Seventh Ward, but no usable proposal had reached the committee for the Colored School improvement. Hupp alleged that builders had not been properly invited to submit those bids.


He refused to describe this merely as an unfortunate oversight:

“In this manner, Mr. President, the law has been evaded, and this Board has been defeated in its well intended purposes and orders to extend to the colored children of the Independent School District of Wheeling the imperatively needed facilities for acquiring a common school education.”

He questioned whether the obstruction resulted from “sophistry,” “disingenuousness,” “skillful evasion of sworn duty,” inadvertence or some other cause. Whatever the explanation, he insisted that the result was the same: the Board’s explicit order had been frustrated.


With only ten days remaining before the September 1 deadline, Hupp told the Board that it had to act immediately.


Oratory Transformed Into Action

The significance of Hupp’s speech lies not only in its eloquence. He followed it with a resolution.


Several building proposals were already available. Hupp moved that the bids be opened, read and that the contract be awarded to the lowest responsible and satisfactory bidder.


After considerable discussion, the Board held a recorded vote.


The resolution passed, seven votes to five.


The bids were opened, and the contract was awarded to David E. Donel, whose proposal of $310 was judged the lowest responsible bid.


A project that had been delayed for months moved forward because Dr. Hupp converted principle into procedure. He did not stop after expressing sympathy. He placed a resolution before the Board, forced the matter to a decision and helped secure the votes necessary to act.


That combination—moral clarity joined to institutional knowledge—was one of his great strengths.


From the Cane to the Classroom

This episode adds important meaning to another celebrated moment in Dr. Hupp’s life: the ceremonial cane presented to him by Wheeling’s Black citizens.


As explored in an earlier installment of this series, the cane was an unusual and deeply meaningful public expression of respect. Hupp used that occasion to speak passionately about education, citizenship and the future of African Americans after slavery.


The 1873 school controversy helps us understand why that honor carried such weight.


His words were not confined to ceremonial occasions. When a Black community petition reached the Board, when a classroom was needed and when committee delays threatened to defeat the project, Hupp spoke with the same conviction.


Later that year, he would also lead the Board committee responsible for Wheeling’s night schools. When Black citizens petitioned for a night school of their own, the Colored School was included in the city’s publicly authorized evening-school program.


Together, these episodes reveal a pattern. Hupp repeatedly used his public position to defend educational access—not merely as charity, but as a legal and civic obligation.


A Legacy Made Stronger by Historical Accuracy

Dr. Hupp did not establish Wheeling’s Colored School. That accomplishment belongs to the Board’s action in 1866, to the tax-supported public system that sustained it, to John W. West and the Black educators who taught within it, and to the Black families who demanded education for their children.


But Hupp became one of the school’s most powerful allies.


There is no need to award him a founding role that the documentary record does not support. His genuine legacy is substantial enough.


He confronted delay when delay threatened Black children’s education. He challenged colleagues who hid behind “expediency.” He declared that he would resign rather than disregard the law. He carried the community’s petition into the deliberations of the Board and transformed an eloquent argument into a successful motion.


Most importantly, he recognized a truth that remains relevant: a public promise has little value unless public officials are willing to enforce it.


The additional classroom was modest. The segregated system in which it operated remained profoundly unequal. Yet the struggle over that room tells us something essential about Dr. Hupp.


He was willing to stand in a public meeting and say that accommodation with injustice was not wisdom. He was willing to call obstruction by its name. And he was willing to stake his own office on the principle that Black children were entitled to the education guaranteed by law.


That is not the story of the school’s founder.


It is the story of a formidable ally—and a legacy worthy of being remembered.


-T


Historical terminology note

The newspaper account and official proceedings used terms such as “colored citizens,” “colored children” and “Colored School.” They are retained in quotations and historical names to represent the language of the period. In the present-day narrative, we use “Black citizens,” “Black children” and “Black community.”

Principal sources

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