The Liddells, like most of the missionaries and Westerners, had various Chinese servants who helped in the house quarters, three of whom lived in the back portion of the house. They were paid a fair wage, but the situation created a noticeable dichotomy within the city.
Almost 80 percent of the million-strong city were native Chinese, and they lived a rugged lifestyle, working across a wide spectrum of agriculture and domestic labor, particularly in relation to the wealthy foreign class. The Chinese section of the city was much larger but not nearly as upscale as the way the resident aliens—the British, Germans, and French—insisted on living.
During his first days back home, Eric purchased two large albums and organized the newspaper clippings, photographs, and programs he’d collected over the past few years. He then employed a carpenter to build a small cabinet that would house his medals, nearly two hundred in all. In this way, whenever visitors came to call and inevitably asked to see the medals, Eric could easily display them rather than having to take them out of their individual cases.
He also spent time familiarizing himself with a new way of life and the political sentiments of the country.
Tientsin, being a port city, was valuable for international trading partners, similar to Shanghai and Hong Kong. The British influence over the years had thrived in this context. The British ran the taxes, policed the city, and exercised government. They had their own restaurants, a country club, and a racetrack, all with the goal of getting China open to business, work, and trade. The LMS, among various other Christian missionary entities, flourished in the midst of the growing Western influence.
Consequently, the Chinese resisted the westernization of their country. The wake of the previous generation’s Boxer Rebellion uprising had left an unsettled sensation in the culture. The national pride of the Chinese was at stake, and many felt they were beginning to lose their culture.
These waves of sentiment crashed over Eric in a direct way. Enrollment in the Tientsin Anglo-Chinese College had dropped significantly, and a storm cloud of concern swelled over the turbulent missionary community, meaning that even though Eric had traveled from Europe to China, leaving behind everything he knew best, he had no guarantees of a position by the end of the year. He very well may have made the long trip to work as a teacher but not have any students to teach.
Dr. Samuel Lavington Hart, the president of Tientsin Anglo-Chinese College, was eager to connect with Eric. Dr. Hart, a seasoned man, wore a stately goatee, which seemed to punctuate the intensity of his work. He made it clear that he and his wife, Elsie, had tremendous hearts for sharing Christ in an academic setting.
Eric and Dr. Hart resonated with each other on more than this one level. Dr. Hart believed that Christian education was foundational for all education. Eric appreciated that sentiment. Like Eric, Dr. Hart had abandoned notoriety in Britain when he felt a call to China. A prominent physicist, he had left his influential post in 1892. He and his wife, along with his brother and his brother’s wife, had undertaken the long journey, just as Eric had, each with hope and the belief that they were doing God’s will. But Dr. Hart’s brother and his brother’s new bride both died of dysentery after their first year in China.
Afterward Dr. Hart and Elsie moved from Wuchang to Tientsin, where he founded TACC with the heartfelt desire to share the gospel with the sons of Chinese businessmen and government officials.
When Eric questioned whether, come fall, he’d stand before a classroom of empty desks, Dr. Hart assured him “the Authorities of the College have decided to open the college as usual in September. They will admit all, whether former students or new students, whose distinct purpose it is to devote themselves quietly to study.”[33]
Eric and all the missionary community breathed a sigh of relief that their opportunity continued intact, fragile though it was. Immediately, Eric set up shop, buying lab supplies as best he could find in the local markets. When the school doors opened for his first year as a teacher, Eric joined a faculty of five other British missionary educators, including his old teacher A. P. Cullen.
And what a reunion! Cullen had enjoyed following Eric’s athletic career and thoroughly endorsed his addition to the college. Cullen’s voice stating, “We are fortunate to have Eric on campus” offered powerful validation.
But one thing had changed. Eric had always heard his old professor referred to as “Cullen.” Within the extended LMS family, however, children referred to their elders as “Uncle” and “Auntie.” Now, when Eric heard children call out for Cullen, they called him “Uncle Rooper” (based on an old nickname from childhood).
Eric easily became “Uncle Eric.”
Eric thrust himself into his work like a champion rejoicing to run his course. He taught science in the morning and also participated in leading the college’s morning services. His afternoons at the school became a laboratory of a different kind when Dr. Hart asked Eric to develop the athletic program. Afternoons were for playing catch-up, for tea, for Chinese classes with his private tutor . . . but Eric’s old habit of saying yes came too easily, even in another country.
That year Eric organized races, games, and full-fledged track and field meets with his students. And for the students, Uncle Eric’s participation became coveted. After all, how often does one have a chance at competing against a star Olympic gold medalist?
On the field, Eric could see another side to his students, and they him. He had always appreciated being able to offer Christ
