an empty walkway with a watering can laying on its side and leaves scattered
Alderson Broaddus' campus is empty; it closed in August. Photo by Erin Beck.

PHILIPPI — For the past century, students from all over West Virginia and the rest of the country came to Barbour County to study at Alderson Broaddus University. For many, the town of Philippi and the school were nearly synonymous. 

“We always thought our destinies were intertwined,” said Kenneth Yount, a Philippi resident and former university provost.

But no longer. In late July, the West Virginia Higher Education Policy Commission voted to strip Alderson Broaddus of its ability to confer degrees. Facing a multitude of financial problems, the school closed right away and students scattered.

The effects on Philippi were immediate. Businesses saw significant downturns in customers, according to Cheryl Wolfe, executive director of the Barbour County Development Authority, and more landlords have vacant rentals.

Some of the nearly 150 laid-off staff members have left town, as well as nearly 800 departing students. Now, the remaining residents are trying to figure out what their town’s future looks like without the university.

In the back room of Molly’s Hand-Dipped Ice Cream in downtown Philippi in late December, Jaiden Morris was leading a Christmas gift exchange for the local high school cheerleading team. Morris, 25, attended Alderson Broaddus for three years and said she “fell in love” with Philippi. Now she no longer lives in town, but is still part of the community. 

“It just breaks my heart,” she said. “Because when you go there for so long, it turns into kind of your home.”

The girls are smiling and holding gift bags.
Jaiden Morris, at right, brought the cheerleading squad she coaches together for a Christmas party. Although she no longer lives in Philippi, she still feels ties to the area, in part because of her coaching position. Photo by Erin Beck.

After three years at Alderson Broaddus, Morris transferred to West Virginia Wesleyan College where she’s still taking classes, while working at a salon. But she had planned to return to AB to finish her degree.

“They gave us what, maybe two weeks to say, ‘hey, we’re shutting down and you’re going to have to find a new place to go to school,’” she said.

For years, Alderson Broaddus faced declining enrollment and financial problems. In 2015, the university defaulted on a roughly $36 million bond. At the time of closure, it owed the city about $766,000 in unpaid utility bills.

City Manager Jeremy Drennen couldn’t be reached, and Barbour County commissioners did not respond to an email requesting comment.

Philippi is full of other former students like Morris who became fond of the town during their time at Alderson Broaddus.

Hunter Mullens, who met his wife at the university, is now the president of the Barbour County Chamber of Commerce. He and his wife also run a local law office.

“I wouldn’t be here but for AB,” said Mullens, a Pocahontas County native.

As graduates no longer settle there, he predicted that much of the effect remains to be seen.

“It’s like somebody died in the community,” Mullens said.

Hunter Mullens, a Philippi lawyer seen in his Main Street law office, said he wouldn’t live in the town if not for Alderson Broaddus. Photo by Erin Beck.

WBOY reported last week that DACK Investments, a Buckhannon real estate and leasing company, has offered $4.9 million to purchase the assets of the university, including its campus.

While residents try to be optimistic about the potential future for the school’s campus, on a deeper level, they said it feels like the town has lost its identity. 

Mullens’ wife Catherine recalled the culture and vitality the university brought to Philippi while she was growing up.

“It was like the community event to attend the basketball games,” she said.

Residents also attended students’ Christmas concerts, spring coronations and plays.

Couples got married in the Baptist university’s school chapel. Students went on to become pastors in the area. Residents used the library, and before closure, they often still used the campus for events.  

“It will never be the same town again. It will always be a different town,” Hunter Mullens said.

You can see dirt inside.
A water fountain is empty on the once-bustling campus of Alderson Broaddus University. Photo by Erin Beck.

Catherine Mullens’ father, former provost Kenneth Yount, graduated from the university in 1969, went on to earn his master’s and doctorate degrees at other schools and then spent decades working at Alderson Broaddus. Over his time there, he served under six presidents and watched enrollment fluctuate. But after peaking in 2013, there had been a steady decline. That’s one of the factors that led to the school’s closure. 

But Yount also noted that because Alderson Broaddus was a private school, there wasn’t a large pot of state funding to fall back on. 

“We don’t — we didn’t get a lot of state aid,” he added, correcting himself. “I have to get used to talking in the past tense here.”

Alderson Broaddus was also able to widely recruit due to nationally-recognized programs. In 1945, it established the first bachelor’s degree nursing program in the state, and in 1968, it started the first bachelor’s physician assistant program in the nation.

Eric Ruf, CEO of the Barbour Community Health Association, a previous student, former admissions officer and secretary of the Chamber of Commerce, said he’s hired about a dozen physician assistants from the university.

Originally from Parkersburg, he met his wife at the school where they were both members of the renowned show choir, The West Virginians. 

“I kind of laughed and said, ‘I sang and danced my way through college, so I earned my keep,’” he said.

Eric Ruf, CEO of the Barbour Community Health Association and a former student at Alderson Broaddus, shows a picture of himself performing as a young man; he was a member of the school’s well-known show choir. Photo by Erin Beck.

The now-defunct group, deemed ambassadors for the state by a series of governors, not only entertained crowds at places ranging from high schools to churches to railroad conventions, but also publicized the school. Members also received financial aid.

“I didn’t know if I’d even get to go to college at one point in my life. And so to get a full scholarship was a big deal,” Ruf said.

He watched as the school eliminated the music program about five years ago and focused more on athletics.

Morris, the high school cheerleading coach, benefited from that: she was recruited for gymnastics. 

She loves her cheerleading squad, but she doesn’t see a future for her in the town.

“There’s not a whole lot to do here,” she said. “So if you want to be here, there are other reasons that are more meaningful.”

But even without the university’s presence, she just isn’t ready to completely sever her ties with the community.

“I’ve been here for three years,” she said. “And every year, I just try to decide if it’s the year I should move on.”

Erin Beck is Mountain State Spotlight's Community Watchdog Reporter.