Johnnie Diacon remembers his college days with nostalgia.
“I’ve got so many Bacone stories to tell,” the Muscogee, Thlopthlocco Tribal Town and Deer Clan citizen said. “After I got there, it just became real dear to my heart.”
Bacone College, known historically as “Indian University,” opened in 1880 under the American Baptist Home Mission Society. It was America’s first Native-serving institution and Oklahoma’s first college. Donors such as John D. Rockefeller contributed to the school in its early years.
Diacon attended the historic college in 1988 to participate in the art program.
“We had all kinds of fun and did all kinds of crazy things,” he said. “We were young college kids. We had fun.”
Since his time at Bacone, Diacon has grown into a prominent Indigenous artist whose artwork has appeared in various places, from Tennessee to the hit TV show Reservation Dogs.
According to him, he owes his success to the school.
“I always make sure to mention that I’m an alumni of Bacone College,” Diacon said. “I was always proud of that heritage and legacy.”
At one time, Bacone boasted a renowned arts program among other fields of study. The institution made its mark in Oklahoma by creating the state’s first associate degree nursing program. The college also offered a unique baseball program that produced five MLB athletes.
Now, years later, this legacy is in jeopardy.
A campus struggling to stay afloat
At this time, Bacone has no students enrolled. Unstable leadership, mismanagement and poor record-keeping have snowballed into the institution owing millions of dollars to dozens of creditors.
Delaware Tribe of Indians citizen and former president of Bacone Nicky Michael said the campus is hanging on by a thread.
“The problem with Bacone is, it's got all those beautiful and gorgeous historical buildings, and they’re all dilapidating. They all have roof problems,” she said. “And it takes a million dollars a year per building (to fix them).”
An HVAC company from Utah was fixing some of those problems. But Bacone was unable to pay, so the company sued. To resolve this lawsuit, the historic land was sent to the auction block twice–but was spared both times as multiple creditors appeared to want to claim acres for themselves.
Michael decided to suspend classes for the college to recover. Northeastern State University opened its doors for the remaining students at Bacone to transfer their credits and graduate on time.
These measures still weren’t enough to fix persisting problems, Michael said.
“All this fixing that was done over the last few years was just either put duct tape on it or put drywall over it, so nobody can see it,” she said.
Michael said she spent her life’s savings on fixing the school. According to her, she lived in a camper and did various side jobs to make ends meet while she and a skeleton crew of faculty members made repairs themselves.
After months of tumultuous disagreements with leadership above her, Michael was ousted. She now works as a grant writer in El Reno with the Cheyenne and Arapaho Nation.
After facing harassment following her departure from Bacone, she doesn’t believe the college can continue.
“I’m ready to burn it down,” she said.
The fight to keep the land
Cherokee Nation citizen Leslie Hannah replaced Michael earlier this year. Since taking the position, he’s dealt with a similar non-stop onslaught of creditors and looters coming to claim portions of the property.
Hannah said he caught a man trying to pawn off official university vehicles while trespassing on campus. When he confronted the man, he discovered the individual had sold other items and had pocketed the money.
Earlier this year, when searching the grounds, Hannah realized the historic art museum and sweat lodge had also been burglarized.
“It’s been things like that… people see Bacone as dead like a carcass, and they’re vultures coming to pick at it,” Hannah said. “They’re picking at the carcass of Bacone, and I’m sick of it.”
Hannah filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy earlier this month in a last-ditch effort to save the campus. This move allows the college to “pause” its debts and present a list of finances to a judge for future deliberation. Their deadline to file these documents was July 5.
In an interview with KOSU, Hannah said his goal is to save the land, which he hopes will allow them to merge the college with another university.
After working alongside long-time faculty members and being ridiculed, Hannah said the battle for Bacone has become personal.
“I’m angry as hell about the way people have treated Bacone,” he said. “It’s been a cornerstone of Native education for over a hundred years and this is the appreciation, this is the thanks it gets? I’m upset. That’s why I’m fighting.”
A bittersweet legacy
Diacon said the college was important not only for him, but also for other Indigenous students. He said it was a hallmark institution because it provided young Natives with a rare opportunity.
“You know, I think the Indigenous roots to this school are what kept it alive for so long,” he said. “In the fact that at the time… where else could we go?”
He said the college allowed Indigenous people a place to earn a degree that was close to home–a unique luxury in those days.
“There wasn’t anywhere else really that we could afford to travel to back then,” he said. “I had a lot of kinfolk who went there, so it was only natural for a lot of us to go to Bacone.”
Regardless of Bacone’s future, Diacon said he’d carry his alma mater's memories.
“As sad as it may be, all good things must pass. It may be that Bacone has served its purpose, and it may never come back,” he said. “It’s like a car. It’s been abused, and you can replace the parts, but sometimes it’s not worth all the effort. You can look back and think: ‘That was a good car when it was running, but it’s just not the same anymore.’”
Bacone College will appear before a bankruptcy judge on July 22 to determine what could happen in its future.
