The Story Behind This ReStore Donation Celebrates an Iconic Figure at William & Mary
As a volunteer with the Habitat ReStore in Williamsburg with an expansive knowledge of antiques, Steve Beauter sorts through donations with a historical eye. Many of the items were once keepsakes that once occupied cherished spots in someone’s home.
Often a find will prompt Beauter, a former Colonial Williamsburg employee of 30 years, to do further digging. Such is the case with a copy of a certificate of appreciation from William & Mary to a man named Henry Billups. The certificate from “the Society of the Alumni of the College of William and Mary in Virginia” honors Billups for 60 years of service.
Billups’ name is written in red calligraphy on the certificate that contains the college seal. The blank certificate with spaces for the college president and alumni secretary to sign is dated June 5, 1948.
“We have no idea who brought it in,” Beauter said.
Beauter plans to deliver it to Billups’ granddaughter, Earlyne (Henderson) Thompson, and great great-granddaughter, Jolisa Mathis, who reside in Richmond.
Mathis never met the man everyone called Poppa, an iconic African American figure at the college who was a descendant of liberated slaves. Thompson owns the original certificate, still framed, which once hung in the family home that served five generations on Armistead Avenue.
Billups worked at the college, which was chartered in 1693, for 67 years, the longest tenure for any employee.
Born in 1872, Billups started custodial work at the college at age 16.
“He’d clean the Wren Building and make the fire,” Thompson said. “Eventually, he rang the bell for the classes.”
The building had a chapel in it and out of respect, Billups wore a jacket and tie every day. Before electricity, students were awakened for class by the ringing of the bell, which continued at intervals throughout the day to signal the end of classes.
Billups’ tending to the bell included a middle-of-the-night episode when college president Lyon Tyler called him with word of nonstop ringing despite the hour. Pranking students had lugged a cow to the Wren Building, tying its tail to the ropes of the bell, which were inside a belfry. Every tail wag ignited another ring.
“That was the mystery behind why the bell was ringing at 3 a.m.,” Thompson said.
One published report mentions that when students protested a university decision to deny a holiday, they stole the bell clapper, which required Billups to ring the bell with a hammer.
“He rang the bell until 1955 when he died,” Thompson said. “It was a tradition, and they kept it even after electricity.”
Thompson recalls her grandfather greeting her after his work day ended, fresh buns from the cafeteria in hand. She’d often “hit him up,” she said, for a stick of gum or a nickel. His favorite time of year was Christmas, when she remembers joining him for visits to the homes of professors.
“We would visit on Christmas Day,” she said. “The men would go in one room and the women in another room, and I would sing to them. Then we would go visit other people. He called those visits his rounds.”
Thompson recalls a police officer cruising by one Christmas when her grandfather, standing on his porch, invited him inside for a drink.
“He looked both ways before he stepped in the door,” Thompson said. “He came in and had a little drink and then went on his way.”
Billups became the grand marshal of the homecoming parade, riding in a chauffeured limo.
When the college president once spoke to Billups about being late, he responded that he didn’t have a watch, and it wasn’t always easy to read the sundial on a cloudy day. William & Mary presented him with a gold pocket watch on his 50th anniversary of working there.
Rebecca returned the watch to the college for posterity after Billups died. It’s kept in a collection at William & Mary’s Swem Library.
When Winston Churchill accompanied President Dwight D. Eisenhower for a college visit in 1946, the story goes that Billups told the British prime minister he could not bring his smoking cigar into the Wren Building.
“Give it to me. I’ll hold it for you,” Billups told him.
Billups and his wife of 45 years, Rebecca, adopted a 5-year-old girl from Richmond whom they named Bessie, Thompson’s mother. Initially, they raised her in a house between Henry and Francis streets. They moved into a house Billups had built in 1928. The house between Armstead Avenue and Scotland Street was sold in 1990 and later torn down. Today that space is home to Three Sisters Boutique.
Billups died at age 83 and is buried at Cedar Grove Cemetery in Williamsburg. Thompson remembers being in the car before the funeral at the site of the old First Baptist Church on Nassau Stree,t listening to the bell that William and Mary rang in his memory.
“He loved the school,” Thompson said. “And they seemed to love him.”
Celebrating 40 Years of Impact
The stories of impact made by Habitat for Humanity Peninsula and Greater Williamsburg go beyond the people served. It includes the items that find new life in our ReStores, located in Newport News, Williamsburg and Yorktown. As Habitat PGW celebrates 40 years of building homes, communities and hope, we’re sharing 40 inspiring stories of the people, families, organizations and THINGS that help make our work possible.
Stay tuned for more stories of transformation, and if you’re inspired, consider joining our mission—whether by volunteering, donating or simply spreading the word. Because together, we’re building more than homes. We’re building hope.
