Beyond the Neighborhood
The College’s early years were deeply intertwined with the residents of Zuqāq al-Balāṭ, who provided not only land and housing but also goodwill and collaboration. Many locals watched with curiosity and pride as the institution grew, viewing it as a source of learning and progress that reflected Beirut’s rising prominence as a cultural and intellectual center.
A delightful anecdote captures the warmth and humor of these early interactions. Muheiddine Hamadeh, a respected landowner in Zuqāq al-Balāṭ, once visited Dr. Daniel Bliss to offer his Christmas and New Year greetings. As they reminisced about the College’s early days, Hamadeh recalled when the institution had rented a house from him. “Do you still remember, Dr. Bliss,” he said with a smile, “when you came to pay the rent and I wrote the receipt?” “Of course, I do,” replied Bliss, laughing. “Maloum! I told you then not to write my name with an alif, or else I would become Ibliss—the devil himself!” Amused, Hamadeh responded, “But no Arabic word can begin with a silent letter—it must start with an alif!”
This humorous exchange not only reflects the linguistic playfulness and cross-cultural encounters of the time but also highlights the friendly rapport between the early American educators and the Beiruti community—a spirit of mutual respect, wit, and cooperation that laid the foundation for decades of shared history between AUB and the people of Beirut.
When the Syrian Protestant College moved to Ras Beirut, the Anglo-American residents—missionaries, professors, and their families—found themselves in a remote but picturesque setting. They enjoyed seaside walks, as well as mountain hikes, and summer retreats in the nearby hills, often gathering for dinners, tea, and holidays such as Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. What began as a small missionary circle gradually evolved into a vibrant, cosmopolitan community.
Cultural interaction between the American missionaries and the local population had begun decades earlier through educational, medical, and publishing initiatives, laying the foundation for deeper social and intellectual ties around the College.
In its early years, the College used Arabic as its language of instruction, reflecting the missionaries’ desire to engage the local community. Even after English replaced Arabic in 1882, collaboration continued. Americans and locals attended each other’s family occasions, such as births and funerals, congratulated each other on religious occasions, and worked and cooperated together in cultural institutions like the American Press, the Syrian Society for Arts and Sciences, schools and the Syrian Protestant College. These relationships fostered mutual respect and established Ras Beirut as a growing center of learning and cultural dialogue.
By the early twentieth century, life for the American faculty and staff at AUB followed a structured yet cosmopolitan rhythm—one that balanced Western habits with growing engagement in Lebanese society. Beyond lectures and classrooms, social life at the College centered around the institutional refectory, where student waiters served meals that combined Western and local flavors. Beyond the dining hall, faculty and staff embraced delicacies, enjoying maʿmoul (date-filled pastry) and bizir (roasted seeds) while learning to navigate the city by streetcar, calling out destinations in Arabic “Kulliyyah!” (College) and “Bab Idrīs!” (The city gate).
Outside the campus, the streets of Ras Beirut were alive with local vendors calling out their goods—selling kaak, sweets, and other simple treats from carts or trays. Young boys worked as porters, carrying baskets on their backs to deliver food and supplies. At that time, transportation of goods still relied largely on mules and camels, as modern vehicles were rare. Bliss Street was then a quiet road with only a handful of small shops serving the nearby community.
In their memoirs, Daniel Bliss, Bayard Dodge, Stephen Penrose, Antoine Zahlan, and Joseph Munro all noted that during both World Wars, the American University of Beirut (AUB) played a vital role in providing emergency relief—much as it continues to do today. The University furnished scarce supplies, offered medical rehabilitation, and extended humanitarian aid to those in need.
Academically and culturally, AUB served as a bridge between East and West. Faculty members studied colloquial Arabic and explored its relationship to Classical Arabic, while the professors’ wives organized ladies’ luncheons to foster social ties with local women. Though the University’s Protestant-American identity evoked both admiration and caution, it remained a center of intellectual exchange where diverse cultures met. The people of Ras Beirut regarded AUB professors with deep respect, seeing them as symbols of knowledge and progress—a contrast that encouraged connection rather than division.