Institutional Memberships: The Force Behind the Success of the Highlands Biological Station
By Bryding Adams
A Room, a Vision, and a Beginning
Before there was a laboratory—before benches, glassware, or even the hum of research—there was a single room. Tucked beside the Hudson Library, the Highlands Museum of Natural History lived quietly there, small in size but expansive in vision. Even then, the future of the Highlands Biological Station was already taking shape, not in buildings, but in belief—in the idea that this place, these mountains, mattered.
Letters Sent into the Wider World
That belief found its earliest champions in people like Edwin E. Reinke of Vanderbilt University and Clark Foreman, a connector of worlds—science, government, and philanthropy. Between 1929 and 1931, they wrote letters—so many letters—reaching outward from Highlands into a wider scientific community, inviting others to imagine what might be possible here. Their words carried more than information; they carried conviction.
That belief found its earliest champions in people like Edwin E. Reinke of Vanderbilt University and Clark Foreman, a connector of worlds—science, government, and philanthropy. Between 1929 and 1931, they wrote letters—so many letters—reaching outward from Highlands into a wider scientific community, inviting others to imagine what might be possible here. Their words carried more than information; they carried conviction.
That belief found its earliest champions in people like Edwin E. Reinke of Vanderbilt University and Clark Foreman, a connector of worlds—science, government, and philanthropy. Between 1929 and 1931, they wrote letters—so many letters—reaching outward from Highlands into a wider scientific community, inviting others to imagine what might be possible here. Their words carried more than information; they carried conviction.
A Case for the Mountains
At the center of this effort was a small but powerful publication: “The Necessity of a Mountain Biological Research Station in the South.” In it lived a quiet urgency—a recognition that the Southern Appalachians held vast, largely unstudied ecological riches; that southern universities needed a place rooted in this landscape; and that students and researchers needed support to pursue that work. The response was immediate and encouraging, echoing back from scientists and from the Highlands community alike.
When the Vision Gathered in One Place
Then, in June of 1930, that shared vision gathered in person. For three days, Highlands became a meeting ground for fifteen scientists representing thirteen institutions, along with others tied to the museum. They stayed at the Highlands Country Club—$5.50 a day for room and board—thanks largely to Clark Foreman, who quietly covered much of the cost. The total bill—just over two hundred dollars—feels almost impossibly small now, considering what would grow from it.
A Photograph of Possibility
At the close of the conference, they stood together for a photograph—a moment suspended in time. Scientists from Emory, Georgia, Tulane, Princeton, and beyond; representatives of museums and federal agencies; local supporters and visionaries. Some were not pictured, but their presence was no less real. These were the early stewards of an idea that had not yet fully taken form.
The photographs themselves became part of the story—carefully bordered, widely distributed—small artifacts of momentum, sent out into the world as invitations. Even the suggestion by Herbert Livingston Satterlee—an early contributor from New York—to include a map showing Highlands and its access routes reflected a growing understanding: that this place, once remote, was becoming a destination for inquiry and discovery.
To the left, the photograph taken at the close of the June 22, 1930 conference captures a remarkable gathering of early supporters and scientists who helped shape the future of the Highlands Biological Station. Those pictured include:
- Mrs. Virginia Bryan Hendren (Athens, GA)
- Mrs. Marguerite Lou Clark Reade (Athens, GA)
- Dr. Robert Clinton Rhodes (Emory University)
- Dr. John Moore Reade (University of Georgia)
- Dr. Edward Stutevant Hathaway (Tulane University)
- Dr. Berwind Peterson Kaufman (University of Alabama)
- Mrs. Richard H. Cobb (Elizabeth) (Highlands & Atlanta; friend of Clark Foreman)
- Dr. William Edwin Hoy (University of South Carolina)
- Dr. Edwin Grant Conklin (Princeton University)
- Dr. Edwin Eustace Reinke (Vanderbilt University)
- Dr. Linville Laurentino Hendren (University of Georgia)
- Clifford Hillhouse Pope (American Museum of Natural History, New York)
- Mrs. Sarah Davis Pope (New York)
- Edward Burnham Chamberlain (Charleston Museum)
Not pictured:
Dr. Ivey Foreman Lewis (University of Virginia); Laura Mary Bragg (Charleston Museum); Arthur Holmes Howell; Thomas Dearborn Burleigh (U.S. Biological Survey, now U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service).
Museum representatives:
Clark Howell Foreman; Thomas Grant Harbison; Albertina Staub.
A second image to the left shows Clark Foreman with Dr. E. E. Reinke and Dr. Conklin. Both photographs feature decorative borders—part of a large set Foreman commissioned and distributed to participants, while also using them as early promotional materials to build institutional and individual support for the Laboratory.
From Conversation to Commitment
From that gathering came a series of defining steps: the incorporation of the Highlands Museum of Natural History, the construction of the Weyman Laboratory in the summer of 1931, and the establishment of the first institutional memberships—quiet but powerful commitments that would sustain the Station for decades to come.
A Modest Beginning, A Lasting Foundation
In 1931, eight institutions stepped forward: Vanderbilt University, University of Georgia, University of Tennessee, Emory University, George Peabody College for Teachers (Nashville), Tulane University, University of Alabama, and the Charleston Museum. They joined not for recognition, but simply to support higher education and to establish a shared base of operations for research in the Southern Appalachians.
For $100 a year, each institution received a simple cubicle—just a table, access to a shared central workspace with running water and a sink, and little else. There was no storage, no research equipment, and not even restrooms. And yet, within these humble conditions, something enduring took root: a community defined not by what it had, but by what it believed in.
Growing the Circle
As the Station found its footing, support widened. Following the August 23, 1930 Board of Trustees meeting, new membership categories were established, each offering a different path for participation: Founders ($100, limited to 50 members and quickly filled), Patrons ($1,000), Life Members (Institutional) (initially $50, later raised to $500), Life Members (Individual) ($10), Sustaining Members ($50), and Annual Members ($10).
The circle of institutional partners continued to expand as well, eventually including the University of North Carolina, Duke University, Wesleyan College, North Carolina State University, Florida State University, University of Florida, Wake Forest University, Clemson University, and Western Carolina University—a growing network bound by a shared commitment to discovery in these mountains.
Supporting the Work, Supporting the People
Alongside institutional support, the Station invested in individuals through competitive research scholarships—opportunities that allowed scientists to pursue their work in Highlands regardless of financial means. Early funds, though now depleted, laid the groundwork for continued support through the Minnie D. Warren Scholarship Fund, the Margaret Cannon Howell Scholarship Fund, the Ward’s Natural Science Establishment Scholarship Fund, and the Colonel and Mrs. J. S. S. Sewell Scholarship Fund, established as a memorial gift by Dr. Caryl P. Haskins.
A Legacy Built Together
And so, what began as a single room and a handful of letters became something far greater. The Highlands Biological Station did not rise all at once—it grew, steadily and collectively, through relationships, through shared purpose, and through the willingness of institutions and individuals alike to invest in a place they believed was worth understanding.
In the end, the story of institutional memberships is not just about funding or affiliation. It is about trust. It is about people choosing, again and again, to support the work of discovery in these mountains—and in doing so, shaping a legacy that continues to unfold.