Educator, Historian, and Community Activist James Burns

John Hallwas

Preparing for my address at the Commodore Macdonough and General Macomb monument rededication last April [2016] brought me into contact with the papers of James Burns, which are at the Western Illinois University Archives. He was the initiator of the 1914 monument to those two famous War of 1812 leaders, and he spoke at the dedication event. Western’s first history professor, he was also a public historian, who spoke to, and for, the people of our locality. And his insights had a big impact.

Born in 1850, and raised on a farm in western Pennsylvania, young James studied briefly at a college there and then started teaching in rural schools. That was in 1866, exactly 150 years ago. Then he came to Illinois in 1869 and studied at Monmouth College—where he taught Latin before he even graduated. The brilliant young man received an A.B. degree there in 1875.

Burns married a classmate, Ida Carey, and then was a principal in four small towns before returning to Monmouth, as superintendent of schools, in 1888. Much-admired, he held that post for thirteen years. At the century’s end, an opportunity arose to teach at the new normal (or teacher training) school in Macomb. Because he was so experienced, and knew many area teachers, Western’s first president, John W. Henninger, asked him to recruit and register students. He was, then, the first registrar, in 1902, as well as the initial faculty member in history.

Burns not only loved that field—especially American and Illinois history—but was a born crusader, both for education and for the insights that historical understanding can arouse in the public mind. Among his surviving papers are not only professional lectures on “History: Its Method and Function in a Normal School,” “The History of Illinois,” and similar matters, but also, talks with an urgent, spiritual focus. He felt that education must encourage caring as well as knowing. In a talk called “Moral and Humane Education,” for example, he lamented,

‘We are educating the head but not the heart. [We teach] knowing, thinking, reasoning, judging, and discriminating. But reverence, sympathy, tenderness, patience, love, and kindness are neglected.”

As that quotation reveals, Burns was an insightful speaker who rapidly developed a reputation not only among teachers and students at Western but among the Macomb-area public as well. In 1904, for example, he gave a riveting Memorial Day address, the likes of which local people had never heard before. After expressing the shocking casualties in the Civil War’s most famous battles, he reminded his listeners that patriotic McDonough County “sent 3,000 men, or one seventh of the entire population, into the field.” He then reviewed the roles that were played by several regiments with men from our area. So, after almost 40 years, local participation in the war again became a widely shared story—a source of pride and an important social connection.  

Burns was also revered as a teacher. Aside from being interesting and inspiring, he revealed a deep personal commitment to the young people who came his way. As one article about him, after his death, commented, “He seemed to act as a sort of father confessor to the students, and they went to him with their troubles. . . .” As I mentioned in my history of Western, “First Century” (1999), he and his wife also brought in, from the war-ravaged Philippines, the very first foreign students, who resided at the Burns home on West Adams Street.

Despite his contributions, Burns was fired by Western’s second president, Alfred Bayliss, simply because he didn’t have a graduate degree. But after a short stint as superintendent of schools in Vandalia, he was hired in 1907 to fill that same post in Macomb. And he was outstanding—much appreciated by the public as well as by faculty and students. 

         He also continued to work as a public historian—for example, speaking on Abraham Lincoln and spearheading the local Lincoln centennial in 1909; delivering another stirring Memorial Day address in 1910; organizing the Macdonough-Macomb memorial event, and lecturing on American and Illinois history to local groups.   

         When Western needed a Latin teacher, in 1913, Burns was re-hired by the school’s third president, Walter Morgan, and he became even more popular with students. As the years went by, he became affectionately known, by the largely female student body, as “Daddy Burns.”

But he continued to serve the public as well. In 1920, when he was 70 years old, Burns spearheaded the formation of the McDonough County Historical Society, calling the initial meeting in late November. Four years later, he wrote the scenario for a “Community Pageant” about the early history of the county, which was performed before a huge crowd at the fairgrounds. And in 1926, he was a leading figure in the McDonough County Centennial celebration, speaking about the county’s very early history. America’s sesquicentennial was celebrated in 1926, too, and he was a key speaker for that. As all of this shows, Burns was the greatest early example of a Western faculty member with a commitment to the community.

        One of his last publications was a 1927 “Macomb Journal” article on prominent Western alumni, written for the school’s 25th anniversary. By then, he was the last of the original Western faculty members who was still teaching. When he finally retired in the spring of 1930, he was 78, and he had been in education for an incredible 64 years. A few months later, he died.

        Of the hundreds of Western faculty whose lives I have looked into, and whose values, struggles, and accomplishments I have tried to appreciate, none has been more personally inspiring. Burns had the right idea: his focus was not only on helping his students, personally as well as professionally, but on serving the people of his locale as well. For him, history was more than a career; it was a calling, an expression of his spiritual life.

         In that way, James Burns presents a model for people today, inspiring us to find a meaningful commitment that expresses our deep inner life and then allowing that to motivate our efforts for the common good.