SPRING 2006 1 Volume 6, Number 1, Spring 2006 A Journal of the History and Culture of the Ohio Valley and the Upper South, published in Cincinnati, Ohio, and Louisville, Kentucky, by Cincinnati Museum Center and The Filson Historical Society. Contents Slavery and Freedom in the Early Republic: Robert Patterson’s Slaves in Kentucky and Ohio 1804-1819 Emil Pocock 3 Race, Sex and Riot: The Springfield, Ohio Race Riots of 1904 and 1906 and the Sources of Anti-Black Violence in the Lower Midwest Jack S. Blocker, Jr. 27 Promise, Pessimism, and Perseverance: An Overview of Higher Education History in Kentucky James C. Klotter 45 Collections Essays 61 Book Reviews 80 Announcements 85 Cover: Faculty and students of Transylvania University, ca. 1871. The Filson Historical Society
Transcript
S P R I N G 2 0 0 6 1
Volume 6, Number 1, Spring 2006
A Journal of the History and Culture of the Ohio Valley and the Upper South, published in Cincinnati, Ohio, and Louisville, Kentucky, by Cincinnati Museum Center and The Filson Historical Society.
ContentsSlavery and Freedom in the Early Republic:Robert Patterson’s Slaves in Kentucky and Ohio1804-1819Emil Pocock 3
Race, Sex and Riot: The Springfi eld, Ohio Race Riots of 1904 and 1906 and the Sources of Anti-BlackViolence in the Lower MidwestJack S. Blocker, Jr. 27 Promise, Pessimism, and Perseverance: An Overview of Higher Education History in KentuckyJames C. Klotter 45
Collections Essays 61
Book Reviews 80
Announcements 85Cover: Faculty and students of Transylvania University, ca. 1871. The Filson Historical Society
Craig Thompson Friend. Along the Maysville Road: The Early American Republic in the Trans-Appalachian West. Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press, 2005. 400 pp. ISBN: 1572333154 (cloth), $42.00.
The Maysville Road holds a place in Ameri-can history primarily because Andrew Jackson did not like it. In 1830 Congress
authorized the purchase of $50,000 worth of stock in the Maysville Turnpike Company, a Kentucky concern chartered to make a proper road out of the meandering cart path stretching from the Ohio River town of Maysville to Lexington. In a story recounted in innumerable survey-course textbooks, Jackson vetoed the bill, an action that hinted at the political philosophy that would guide him through the remainder of his presidency.
Craig Thompson Friend tells that familiar story, but he wants us to remember the Maysville Road for something more than its role in the emergence of the Second Party System. The his-tory of the road, he argues, offers a vantage point from which to observe some vital developments during the era of the new republic. Between the Revolution and the 1830s, the road was a crucial route through a complex and rapidly changing frontier. It was a commercial artery in a time of economic transformation and a site of signifi cant cultural exchange as well. It brought a great many different kinds of Americans to Kentucky, new ar-
rivals who competed with one another to imprint their particular visions of the good life upon the land. To travel the Maysville Road or live beside it, Friend suggests, was to experience forces that reshaped the entire nation.
Friend organizes the book according to several broad changes in the population and social structure of the roadside settlements. He begins by describ-ing the Revolution-era pioneers, migrants from a variety of backgrounds, who crept into the region as Native American power declined. He offers a brief
but effective survey of the pioneers’ varied backgrounds, along with a description of the egalitarian and individualistic culture that emerged out of their meeting. That culture, he then explains, was undermined by the arrival of wealthier and more genteel migrants from Vir-ginia beginning in the 1790s. These newcomers worked to secure the best land and gradually took con-trol of the villages along the road. They based their claim to leader-ship on a republican ideal of virtue and community obligation, which they pressed upon their neighbors
in patriotic celebrations, militia musters, and other ritual events. This section, full of fascinating cul-tural detail, contains some of Friend’s strongest descriptive writing.
The gentry’s dominance broke down in the fi rst decades of the nineteenth century under the pressure of the period’s twin revolutions: religious revival-ism and market transformation. By the end of the 1820s, Friend argues, power resided with “self-made men,” commercial leaders who adopted some
of the style of the gentry but little of their public spirit. Their rise marked the “triumph of the middle class” (217), a development that erased both the egalitarian world of the pioneers and the short-lived republican order of the genteel settlers.
Friend’s approach to these topics is to describe local conditions in close detail while presenting local changes as the reverberations of larger phe-nomena. Take, for example, his description of domestic architecture. When genteel settlers began to arrive in the region, they built houses that were more refi ned than the cabins of earlier pioneers. Exhibiting a disdain for log construction, they used milled lumber and bricks whenever feasible. Friend treats this trait as an example of the new settlers’ larger effort to bring order to western villages and to secure social and political leadership. That effort, in turn, refl ected the newcomers’ adher-ence to a republican vision in which the meritorious among the gentry guided American communities. In this discussion and elsewhere, Friend imparts a sense of the textures of everyday life while dem-onstrating how a particular place was knit into its broader world.
By 1830, the year of Jackson’s veto, the Maysville Road was no longer terribly important. There were new western regions to conquer and better forms of transportation. For a time, however, the road was “the spine of the most dynamic region of the American West” (2). Friend explains the road’s early signifi cance, but more importantly he explores its history to the fullest to show how the region par-ticipated in profound national developments. Along the Maysville Road is a lesson in how scholarship can be fi rmly rooted in a specifi c landscape, yet still address the big historical questions.
Andrew DensonWestern Carolina University
Adam I. Kane. The Western River Steamboat.College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2004. 208pp. ISBN: 1585443433 (paper), $19.95.
The Western River Steam-boat is a worthwhile read for both historians and
archaeologists interested in either the evolution of the Mississippi region or the technological de-velopment of western steamboats before 1860. There are a number of books and articles on west-ern steamboats but most cover the period after 1853, largely because before this time few ac-curate drawings or photographs of steamboats survive and a lack of uniform technical language has rendered obtuse many written
descriptions of machinery, and vessel construction and operations. Drawing on a number of obscure and hard to fi nd sources as well as information from the relatively new discipline of steamboat archaeol-ogy, the author is able to fi ll in some gaps from the developmental period between 1811 and 1860.
Chapters 1 and 2 are the foundation of this book. Chapter 1 is a historical review in which Kane paints a broad outline of what was, in effect, a symbiotic relationship between the historic and economic growth of the Mississippi basin and the rapid development of steamboat technology. He points out that although hunters and farmers were quick to move into the land west of the Appalachian Mountains after the Louisiana Purchase, these new inhabitants had little incentive to produce more than was necessary as it was diffi cult to get surpluses to market and even more onerous and prohibitively expensive to import goods. Sailboats were of little value because of variable and unpredictable winds. Goods were shipped to New Orleans via fl atboats and keelboats, but the former could not make
the return trip and the latter were ineffi cient and expensive for moving goods upriver. It was the steamboat that allowed large quantities of goods to be shipped on the Mississippi River and its tributar-ies, accelerating economic expansion. The growth of trade, an abundance of natural resources, and a desperate need for improved technology led to the rapid development of steamboats, which in turn sparked continued increases in trade and popula-tion, the rapid establishment of new towns, and the accelerated development of an industrial base. Kane clearly and succinctly outlines this evolving relationship between economic growth and the development of the steamboat.
Whereas Chapter 1 is a historical review, Chap-ter 2 is archaeological in nature. Kane reports the strides made in steamboat archaeology, then lists and describes some of the more important wrecks that have been excavated and published. After set-ting the stage with these two chapters, Kane breaks down the era of steamboat development from 1811 to 1860 into three periods and concentrates on the technological obstacles and developments that de-fi ne each. These three chapters are based on data from an uneven combination of historical and ar-chaeological sources, depending on the availability of archaeological data. Chapter 3, 1811 to 1820, is based solely on historical data as no wrecks from this period have been found. Chapter 4, 1820 to 1835, is also based primarily on historical data, but data from the Red River wreck, which is believed to date from around 1830, gives some clarifi cation of the construction techniques of the time. In spite of a dearth of archaeological data in these two chapters, Kane has taken advantage of a number of primary sources, producing a clear and concise account of the major technological changes before 1835. It is in Chapter 6, 1835 to 1860, that Kane is able to take advantage of both sources of data and describe in greater detail the steamboat development and construction that defi ne the era.
Normally, I would suspect that many readers may be put off, if not outright bored, by the discussion
of construction features of steamboats common in these three chapters. Yet Kane is able to describe rather arcane features in an interesting and read-able style. Some features are defi ned in the text while most lacking defi nitions can be found in the glossary. However, the glossary did lack defi nitions for some items and some defi nitions are a bit too succinct. Those with little or no background in this subject will fi nd this an enjoyable read. Most experts will also benefi t from this rather broad overview; at a minimum, they will fi nd the cited primary sources of interest.
Samuel MarkTexas A&M University at Galveston
Richard F. Welch. The Boy General: The Life and Careers of Francis Channing Bar-low. Kent, OH: The Kent State University Press, 2003. 301 pp. ISBN: 0873388356 (paper), $24.95.
Author Richard F. Welch acknowledges a truism at the outset of his biography of one of the American Civil War’s most ag-
gressive and colorful military personalities. While few actors in the sectional confl ict have earned transcendent and enduring renown—Robert E. Lee and George A. Custer are two, for example, that remain fi xed in American memory—most others, equally distinguished in their own time, as Welch argues, “slowly faded from the public awareness and fell into obscurity, largely unknown [today] except by specialists and enthusiasts” (13). Welch aims to rescue Francis Channing Barlow from the unkind fate of anonymity in The Boy General, the fi rst full-length study of this civilian-soldier, one who ranks among the best combat leaders in the federal Army of the Potomac.
Born at Brooklyn, New York in 1834, Barlow displayed from a very young age the pugnacity that would later become his most abiding military trait. Raised in Massachusetts by his beautiful, vivacious,
and intellectual mother, Almira Penniman Barlow, Frank (as he was often called throughout his life) moved in high social circles, including such lumi-naries as Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Fuller, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Possessing talent, bravery to the point of recklessness in the face of physical danger, and unrelenting in his beliefs, Barlow attracted attention (if not always affection) at Harvard, where he graduated fi rst in his class in 1855. Finding his way, like so many others of his socio-economic standing, into the fi eld of law, by 1861 the young attorney, again back in New York, sought to defend his nation from the specter of disunion. Charac-terized as a “moderate abolitionist . . . of the Unitarian-Transcenden-talist tradition” (29-30), Barlow enlisted as a private in the Twelfth New York Infantry, a three-month volunteer regiment, days after the fall of Fort Sumter.
Over the next four years, Bar-low fashioned a military record perhaps unsurpassed among non-professional soldiers. Climbing quickly through the ranks to the grade of major general of volunteers by the confl ict’s end, Barlow participated bravely in nearly all major operations of the eastern theater, winning the esteem of his superiors and peers and suffering grievous wounds at Antietam and Get-tysburg. Yet accompanying distinction—perhaps inevitably given Barlow’s combative character—came also an unshakeable faith both in himself and his opinions. Always a strident critic of those around him, the New Yorker found fault in Major General George B. McClellan’s moderate early war course. He held a poor view of German-American soldiers, whom he led pitilessly for a time as a division commander in the Eleventh Army Corps, which exacerbated tensions within the unit and arguably contributed to its mixed combat history.
Despite such controversies, his wartime record put him in good stead after the guns fell silent. Barlow continued in the public eye—still courting controversy—through unfl inchingly honest, indeed intrepid, behavior while serving as a U.S. marshal for the southern district of New York in 1869, as the Empire State’s attorney general in 1871, and as a Republican Party observer during the disputed
1876 presidential election.Welch establishes his subject
as a courageous, forceful, conten-tious, and eccentric personality. But the book’s basic weakness is that it remains throughout a narrative study that fails signally to fi t its subject into the various contexts of nineteenth-century social, military, and political culture. Much of this defi ciency stems from the relative lack of manuscript sources written to and from Barlow. More seri-ously, however, in telling his story Welch relies too heavily upon traditional and similarly narrative approaches to Civil
War and nineteenth-century history. Nowhere is there a broad, contextual discussion of such topics, for example, as elite culture, manhood and insti-tutional ambition, soldier motivation, or political factionalism within the Army of the Potomac’s of-fi cer cadre. Instead, Welch fi lls much of the volume with a standard, personality-driven account of the war in the East, devoting much space to matters only peripherally connected with Barlow himself, and the author repeatedly interjects his own views on military operations. Then, too, numerous factual errors occur, including references to “Major John Reynolds” (83) (Reynolds was then a lieutenant colonel), and Henry Wager Halleck as “[Abraham] Lincoln’s chief of staff” in 1862 (73) (he was then general-in-chief). Finally, the volume’s maps, drawn largely from nineteenth-century sources, often
do not illustrate features mentioned repeatedly throughout the text.
The Boy General provides an acceptable narra-tive that will appeal to Civil War enthusiasts. Still, a defi nitive biography of Francis Channing Barlow, the soldier and the man, remains to be written.
Christopher S. Stowe McNeese State University
William C. Davis and Meredith L. Swentor, eds. Bluegrass Con-federate: The Headquarters Diary of Edward O. Guerrant. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State Univer-sity Press, 2005. 716 pp. ISBN: 0807124117 (cloth), $49.95; 0807130583 (paper), $24.95.
Civil War diaries are often mother lodes of detailed information, valuable
perspectives, and contemporary observations. Publishers demand that these manuscripts exhibit their editors’ dedication and thor-oughness in mining and interpreting these valuable resources. The wartime diary of Edward O. Guer-rant, now available in paperback, is a source rich with historical information and insight. William C. Davis and Meredith L. Swentor edited and short-ened the original two-thousand-page diary, one that offers both a useful account of military life and an all-too-rare perspective of a Kentuckian who cast his lot with the Confederacy. While serving under several notable Kentucky generals, including Hum-phrey Marshall and John Hunt Morgan, Guerrant commented on army life, the conduct of the war, and Confederate efforts to regain Kentucky. Al-though his diary contains rich details of military life in Virginia, the real value of this source is Guerrant’s heartfelt expectations of securing Kentucky for the
Confederate cause, and his disgust with Unionists who kept the state in the Union.
Guerrant’s quirky humor and skill at storytelling make this book an enjoyable, if ponderous, read. His military service was primarily administrative, although he did observe fi rsthand a number of campaigns and battles. As the war progressed, Guerrant’s entries change from the writings of an eager recruit, hungry for every scrap of camp gos-sip, to the somber musings of a veteran unafraid
to record the scenes of death and destruction he witnessed. In spite of the hardship and adversity he faced, Guerrant’s unwavering confi dence in secession accurately depicts the ironic situation of Kentuckians who left their home state to join the army they hoped would free their state from the Unionists. Many of these men despised Lincoln and believed abolition would forever change their state. Their fears would ultimately prove well-founded.
Historians, students, and re-searchers searching for perspec-tives on the politics of the war in Kentucky and the bitterness it
engendered may fi nd much of value in Guerrant’s diary. But despite the wealth of detail, Guerrant’s entries also contain vague, incomplete, or incorrect information. Davis and Swentor sifted a source document replete with camp gossip, rumors, and rough estimations, providing meticulous annota-tion that draws upon census data, military records, and Guerrant’s other writings to fi ll in the gaps. Unfortunately, the editing is inconsistent. Rumors about the alleged deaths of Confederate generals are annotated, but Guerrant’s commentary on Kentucky politics, emancipation, and black enlist-ment often lack context and suffi cient annotation. More frustrating, the limited index diminishes the value of this edited diary. Guerrant often records the actions of “bushwhackers” (which he inverts
from common usage to mean Unionist partisans) and Confederate reprisals against these guerrillas, but in chapter ten alone there are fi ve references to bushwhackers that are not included in the index. Further, Guerrant offers a lengthy account of the Union raid on Saltville, Virginia, an action that involved newly mustered African American cavalry from Kentucky’s infamous Camp Nelson, but the index contains no entry either for black troops or African Americans. Guerrant’s diary contains similar references to important aspects of the Civil War in Kentucky and the middle border. However, readers will have to rely on their own knowledge of the period to identify the nuggets of histori-cal information that lie within Guerrant’s mundane accounts of camp life.
There will always be a mar-ket for Civil War sources so rich in detail, and Guerrant’s diary is one of the most com-plete and insightful Civil War diaries written by any soldier and certainly by a Kentuckian. It is thus unfortunate that the limited scope of the editing does not fully realize the potential of this vital resource. Guerrant’s diary is worth the effort neces-sary to gain the perspective of a Kentuckian whose dedication to secession drove him into self-imposed exile for the duration of the war.
Stephen RockenbachNorthern Kentucky University
[Editors’ note: Readers interested in Edward O. Guerrant’s postwar missionary career should con-sult Mark Andrew Huddle’s article in Ohio Valley History 5 (Winter 2005), 47-64.]
Donald E. Collins. The Death and Resurrec-tion of Jefferson Davis. New York: Rowman and Littlefi eld Publishers, Inc., 2005. 184 pp. ISBN: 0742543048 (cloth), $22.95.
In The Death and Resurrection of Jefferson Davis, Donald E. Collins argues that at the end of the Civil War white southerners were critical
of Davis, blaming him for the Confederacy’s defeat and resenting what they considered his abandon-ment of states’ rights and slavery. Yet by the time of his death in 1889, the former Confederate president
had become one of the South’s most respected heroes. Collins begins with a brief discussion of Davis’s life up until and including his two-year imprisonment after the war. Davis’s mistreatment in prison rendered him “a martyr” who was seen by white southerners “as suffering for the defeated South” (18). Many northerners, though, still harbored “a great deal of hostility” (20) for the former leader of the Confed-eracy. Two events, Collins argues, led to the “resurrection” of Davis’s reputation: a triumphant tour of cities in Alabama and Georgia in 1886 and 1887, and his death and funeral in 1889. On the tour, white
southerners greeted Davis with a tremendous out-pouring of respect and affection, and their adulation only increased with his death. Southern newspapers praised him and in New Orleans, where he died and was initially buried, huge crowds mourned his passing. Mourners saw more American than Con-federate fl ags, Collins observes, and Davis’s funeral incorporated themes of sectional reconciliation, a cause Davis himself had embraced during the last years of his life. By the 1890s, Davis had become for white southerners as great a hero as Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, and although all hostil-ity in the North had not disappeared, even there he
had come to be treated with greater respect. African Americans did not join in the celebration of Davis, although a very few did honor his memory.
Collins then goes on to explore two other events central to the resurrection of Davis’s historical reputation: his reburial and the erection of a monu-ment to him in Richmond, VA. Collins explains the decision to move Davis’s body, carefully nar-rates the procession by rail from New Orleans to Richmond, and describes Davis’s burial in that city’s Hollywood Cemetery. Collins also provides a detailed account of the campaign to erect a monument to the Confederate president and recounts its unveil-ing on Richmond’s Monument Avenue in 1907. The monu-ment, Collins contends “repre-sented an unapologetic tribute to and defense of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis, and his political belief in the sovereign rights of the states” (147). Davis “was still the hero of the South, rank-ing in his own region alongside of Lee and Jackson by most, and above them, by some.” “Yet,” Collins concludes, “Jefferson Davis no longer excited either the enthu-siasm of the South or the hostility of the North in the degree that had existed in earlier years” (148).
Collins makes a convincing case for his interpre-tation of Davis’s changing reputation, and no one has done a more thorough job of researching the events that he discusses. Nor does any other source provide so detailed an account of them. The use of “resurrection” in the title may evoke for some Charles Reagan Wilson’s argument that Davis became the Christian martyr and a southern saint within a civil religion of the Lost Cause. But Collins does not develop Wilson’s insights and, for the most part, ignores scholarship on the Lost Cause. His work, however, reinforces the conclusions of those
scholars who have argued that by the early-twenti-eth century the white South had come to celebrate the Confederacy even as it had embraced reunion and reconciliation.
Gaines M. FosterLouisiana State University
Howard L. Sacks and Judith Rose Sacks. Way Up North in Dixie: A Black Family’s Claim to the Confederate An-them. Urbana: Uni-versity of Illinois Press, 2003. 259 pp. ISBN: 0252071603 (paper), $22.95.
The familiar anthem, “Dixie,” is entrenched in southern history and
culture. Yet black and white southerners receive it differently. For African Americans the song conjures negative memories of
racial oppression in the Old South. Yet many white residents appreciate the song’s recollection of the Confederate spirit and admiration for a people and region steeped in the time and tradition of the nineteenth century. By exploring the origin of this song, Howard and Judith Sacks have delved deep into the history of blackface minstrelsy in order to understand further the musical culture of the nineteenth century.
Instead of focusing on the South, the authors examine race relations in a rural northern com-munity, Knox County, Ohio. In doing so, they reconstruct the family history of the Snowdens, an African-American family whose string band performed in towns and cities for white and black audiences. From the 1850s into the 1910s, members
of the Snowdens danced, played the fi ddle, violin, banjo or guitar at social gatherings. The band had a diverse repertoire that included spiritual, tem-perance, popular, and dance songs. Much of this book centers on individual members of the family. Thomas Snowden and Ellen Cooper had been slaves in Maryland whose respective owners moved west and brought them to Ohio. As free persons in their new homeland, the two met and married in 1834. Less than thirty years later, the census listed the oc-cupation of their household, which by then included seven children, as “Snowden Band.”
Although the book covers in impressive detail the family life of the Snowdens, the primary subject of this book entails identifying the true authors of “Dixie.” According to the Sacks, thirty-seven persons have claimed authorship of the song. The most noted and recognized supposed composer of the song is Dan Emmett, a native of Mount Vernon, Ohio. Emmett was a musician, composer, theater manager, and black minstrelsy performer. That the Snowdens were also entertainers from Mount Vernon has helped to generate a controversy and debate ideal for historians to explore since “com-munity lore” has credited the Snowdens as being the “source” of “Dixie.” A tombstone erected in the Snowden burial plot by the black American Legion reads “Ben and Lew Snowden They Taught ‘Dixie’ to Dan Emmett.”
The book takes readers on a journey in search of the true authors of “Dixie.” Drawing upon wills, court records, correspondence, newspaper articles, census records, county histories, a family scrapbook and oral interviews, the Sacks conclude that there is “no ‘smoking gun’ concerning ‘Dixie’” (xviii). Still, the authors provide plenty of evidence to suggest the Snowdens may have had a role in the origin of “Dixie.” There was clearly a mixing of ideas and infl uences between the Snowdens and white musi-cians in the area. And it is obvious the Snowdens were well respected for their musical creativity.
The Snowdens collected music, shared their own music, and rearranged musical selections to fi t
the particular repertoire of songs they performed. There is a good possibility that Dan Emmett en-countered the music of the Snowdens, given that members of his family lived a short distance from the Snowdens. But the Sacks do an admirable job of sticking to concrete evidence while allowing the reader room for interpreting which side of the authorship argument to believe.
Aside from the story of “Dixie,” what makes this book worth reading is the insight it offers on the life of an African-American family of entertainers. The family’s construction of identity and respectability is well crafted throughout the book. Mindful of the perceptions that African Americans and whites would have toward their music, the Snowdens main-tained a level of respect, pride, and professionalism as string band. They merged their culture, talents, and strong religious beliefs into a marketable for-mat in order to reach diverse audiences. Perhaps most important is the book’s success in moving the Snowden family story and the controversy sur-rounding “Dixie” beyond their cultural dimensions. Clearly, the Snowdens were more than entertainers. They were a close-knit family who resisted racial oppression. Two of the children, Ben and Lew, while continuing to play music, even diversifi ed their interests into racing horses.
The story of “Dixie” is controversial and remark-able. This book records life among black and white Americans in the nineteenth century outside the urban arena, raising questions about the imitation and exaggeration of racial images. It also unfolds layers of personalities, histories, and cultures in the North that were connected to southern history. The authors have done a magnifi cent job presenting valuable primary material that had been preserved but often overlooked for generations. Because of this volume, we now have a better understanding of the African-American perspective of “Dixie.”
Edward O. Guerrant, with an introduc-tion by Mark Andrew Huddle. The Ga-lax Gatherers: The Gospel Among the Highlanders. Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press, 2005. 264 pp. ISBN: 1572333634 (paper), $19.95.
A traveler to Breathitt Coun-ty, Kentucky today can visit the deserted buildings
that used to be Highland College, a school established in 1907 through the efforts of groups affi liated with the Presbyterian Church. Current maps show Highland College lo-cated on Puncheon Camp Creek, at a place labeled “Guerrant,” named after the itinerant home missionary who founded it and several others in the Kentucky mountains. Edward O. Guerrant, a Confederate Civil War veteran, served as Presbyterian mission-ary to Appalachia for forty years. His writings were partially compiled in 1910 in a collection called The Galax Gatherers, which has now been reprinted by the University of Tennessee Press.
Guerrant’s refl ections might disappoint social historians looking for empirical insight into the lives of people in the Kentucky mountains. The Galax Gatherers is not social analysis or even travel or local color literature. Instead, it fi ts more fi rmly into a genre of religious and charitable fundraising literature. As such, Guerrant maximizes elements that would encourage donations while minimizing in-depth description. Guerrant relies heavily on the “isolation” motif of Appalachian society, noting repeatedly the remoteness of the hollows and the separation of the people from the ways of the rest of the country. Transportation diffi culties provide grist for repeated humorous anecdotes; he states several times that Pike’s Peak was an easier climb
than some of the roads he encountered in eastern Kentucky (142). Guerrant also devotes considerable attention to the rough living circumstances of his mission workers, the “Soul Winners,” who were generally well-to-do young women from elsewhere in the South. “Have you a part in this blessed
work?” Guerrant asks his readers and potential donors at the end of one such story and in many others (59). The monetary appeal had a clear religious end, as Guerrant re-peatedly presses on his readers the urgency of his work. These are a “perishing people,” he says, living in places where “there is neither church nor school house here, and never was,” and who would be lost in eternity if not for the efforts of the “Soul Winners” (77, 50).
The new introduction by histo-rian Mark Andrew Huddle ably places the book within a national historical context of late-nine-teenth century home missions, in
which Protestant writers, fearing for the nation’s Protestant identity in the face of massive Catholic and Jewish immigration, urged the re-evangelization of the United States. That agenda often had racial overtones, as writers sought to reassert the special role of Anglo-Saxon civilization in the plans of di-vine providence. Guerrant, Huddle argues, shared those ideas, though he did not state them overtly (with some exceptions; see xxx, 102, 161). That mountain people were primarily “white” certainly enabled Guerrant to speak highly of them, and to admire their eagerness, hospitality, and native intel-ligence amidst their spiritual destitution.
Huddle also connects the home mission move-ment with the concurrent Social Gospel movement. Guerrant, according to Huddle, expressed a ver-sion of the Social Gospel that equated aid for the needy with building the institutions of Protestant and Anglo-Saxon civilization. Certainly Guerrant
believed civilizing the Highlanders to be a crucial component of evangelization, and he considered the schools, orphans’ homes, and hospitals he built to be his crowning achievements. The Galax Gather-ers says nothing about social justice, however, nor about economic or social relationships. An intrigu-ing exception comes in the book’s opening vignette, which takes place in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina. Here, Guerrant explains the meaning of the collection’s title, referring to farmers and their families who spend their winters collecting galax, a wild plant whose golden foliage was in high demand for decorating the homes of the wealthy. “Probably none who enjoy their gorgeous foliage in stately mansions,” Guerrant notes, “ever know what labor and sacrifi ce and suffering these leaves cost the poor highlanders” (5). One suspects that the fundraising tracts that comprise The Galax Gatherers do not reveal the fullness of Guerrant’s understanding of the mountains.
Robert S. WeiseEastern Kentucky University
[Editors’ note: Readers interested in Edward O. Guerrant’s postwar missionary career should consult Mark Andrew Huddle’s excerpt from his introduction to The Ga-lax Gatherers, published in Ohio Valley History 5 (Winter 2005), 47-64, with permission of The University of Tennessee Press.]
Julie Aronson, ed. The Cincinnati Wing: The Story of Art in the Queen City. Athens: Ohio University Press, 2003. Published by the Cincinnati Art Museum in cooperation with Ohio University Press. 227 pp., 151 color plates. ISBN: 0821414879 (cloth), $49.95.
Published in conjunction with the opening of the Cincinnati Museum of Art’s new addi-tion, The Cincinnati Wing, features a large
sampling of the museum’s extraordinary collection of mostly regional art made by artists who trained and worked in the city during the eighteenth, nine-teenth and early-twentieth centuries. Essays in the exhibition catalog connect the city’s social and cultural history to its diverse artistic contributions. In the “Introduction,” Anita J. Ellis, Director of Curatorial Affairs and Decorative Arts, notes that the works are arranged in approximate chronologi-cal order, in nine sections, to refl ect the thematic arrangement of the museum’s new wing. Concisely written, all nine essays in the catalog focus on the regional specifi city of these works, consisting of paintings, sculpture, wood carvings, ceramics, and metalwork, and link them to the confl uence of American and European art movements. According
to the French historian Domi-nique Poulot, this concept of connecting a museum’s collec-tion to the culture of a specifi c time was practiced in France in the 1880s and 1890s, and has been successfully implemented here.
From its beginning as a small frontier river outpost in the late-eighteenth century, Cincinnati was a center of both industry and business. Jennifer Howe’s essay exam-ines Henry Farny’s and Joseph Sharp’s images of American Indians and the concept of
the “Wild West,” and handles sensitively the issues of race and hierarchies of power during the city’s settlement and gradual urbanization. Unprec-edented accumulation of wealth in the nineteenth century prompted wealthy individuals to support the arts in Cincinnati. Noteworthy patrons Nicho-las Longworth and Reuben Springer believed that
edifi cation in the fi ne arts would benefi t not only the local citizens but also the burgeoning infl ux of artists who came to Cincinnati to train and work. Indeed, their patronage benefi ted several artists before they achieved national and international recognition.
The Cincinnati Wing celebrates the city, as well as its individual artists and movers and shakers. In 1853 Sarah Worthington King Peter, organizer of the Philadelphia School of Design for Women, founded the Cincinnati’s Ladies Academy of Fine Arts to provide women with an artistic education and help cultivate public taste. Several years later, in 1881, the Cincinnati Art Museum was established. Julie Aronson, the catalog’s editor, notes that no other artist is more intimately connected to Cincinnati than the rugged nineteenth century realist painter Frank Duveneck, who grew up in Cincinnati. Rebuk-ing academic stylistic norms and prettifi ed subject matter, Duve-neck depicted the lower working classes, their children, and their world. Helping to initiate a new style that broke with the past and fi t in with progressive ideas, he later taught at the museum and endowed it with his own collection.
The history of the visual arts in Cincinnati is one of assimilation followed by a proliferation of indig-enous creativity, including the decorative arts that are integrated throughout the beautifully appointed catalog. The city’s luxury-oriented Rookwood Pot-tery Company, an aesthetic venture that became a commercial success, was internationally acclaimed in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries, but its fame does not dominate the discussion of the decorative arts. Both Maria Longworth Nichols Storer and Mary Louise McLaughlin, the “dueling divas of Cincinnati Ceramics” (106), made major
contributions to art pottery, as well as metalwork. Not well known, Anna Maria Riis and Edna Boise Hopkins also contributed to and excelled in the ap-plied arts. Mixing beauty with practicality, women in nineteenth-century Cincinnati took up wood carving to decorate their homes. Taught by Benn Pitman, a proponent of the Aesthetic Movement, they carved exquisite picture frames, caskets, hat-boxes, and furniture with elaborate nature inspired motifs, such as fauna and birds. These lesser-known women offer evidence of a strong female presence in the American applied arts. Their careers, as well
as Cincinnati’s women’s art clubs and training schools, have not yet been documented.
Although a long history of wealth, initiative and diverse creativity guided Cincinnati into the twentieth century, its contri-butions to American art produc-tion have not been fully studied. The Cincinnati Wing contains a plethora of information to com-plement American history, instill civic pride in Cincinnatians, and provide art historians with new venues of research.
Carmen StongeDuquesne University
Julian William Cummings with Gwendo-lyn Kay Cummings. Grasshopper Pilot: A Memoir. Kent, OH: The Kent State Univer-sity Press, 2005. 92 pp. ISBN: 087338821 (cloth), $19.95.
The primary author of this book was a U.S. Army Air Forces light plane pilot during pre-World War II maneuvers, and in North
Africa, Sicily, Italy, and the Pacifi c. Commissioned an ROTC Field Artillery lieutenant upon graduating
from the University of Utah in 1941, Cummings learned to fl y in Civil Aeronautics Administration Pilot Course Two. Soon after going on active duty in mid-1942, he fl ew an L-4 Piper Cub spotter plane in combat in the Third Infantry Division during Operation TORCH, the invasion of North Africa in November, 1942. In late July 1943, during the Sicilian campaign, he received the Distinguished Ser-vice Cross for having taken off from the improvised deck of an LST (Landing Ship Tank) and reporting enemy movements during the assault phase while under heavy enemy fi re for two and-a-half hours (the award was signed by then Lieutenant General George S. Patton, Jr.). Later in the war, he became involved in technical modifi ca-tions of the L-4, including rockets and television gear. Designated by then-General of the Army Douglas MacArthur to play a key role in the opening phase of the invasion of Japan, Cummings was training for that mission when the war ended.
Despite often interesting anec-dotes and textures, Grasshopper Pilot is at once too brief, rambling, and uneven in style, and occasion-ally lunges into purple prose (35, 56-57). Rather than being the memoir that the title indicates, the book falls closer to a chatty reminiscence or recollection. Explanations of technical matters, defi nitions, and historical stage-setting are rare, sketchy, and some-times puzzling (for example, the blurry treatment of the Battle of Kasserine Pass in which Eisenhower is described as the battle commander, and a coda on military light aviation in the post-World War II period that makes no mention of the L-19, among other things) (84-85). The evolution of military light aviation from World War I to U.S. involvement in World War II is only limned, and the grandest deployment of light aircraft during World War II,
the First Air Commandos as well as Army Air Force chief Henry H. “Hap” Arnold’s special interest in them, also goes unmentioned. Beyond the scarcity of maps and illustrations, and the simplicity of those included, references are sparse. Only seven footnotes appear, an occasional in-text mention of articles on the development of army aviation, and there is no bibliography.
Beyond such fl aws and shortfalls, particularly perplexing in a book bearing the seal of a univer-sity press, some facets of Cummings as the modern Icarus and hot-shot fl yboy depicted in several pho-tographs do shine through. Grasshopper Pilot is a quick and easy read that does manage to convey
some of the aura of light aviation (“real fl ying” in the lexicon of aerial folk culture, as the reviewer can verify from limited experi-ence). This book might well lead someone in search of a topic in airpower history to pursue a broader study of light planes in combat, one of many aspects of military aviation that deserves better treatment than it has so far received.
Roger Beaumont
Texas A&M University, Emeritus
Richard B. Pierce. Polite Protest: The Political Economy of Race in Indianapo-lis, 1920-1970. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2005. 168 pp. ISBN: 0253345871 (cloth), $39.95.
In this small but interesting study of the African American community in Indianapolis, the au-thor advances several arguments that he believes
makes it unique from other black urban communi-ties, especially in the North. “The African American community developed differently in Indianapolis than it did in places further north,” he claims. “Instead of receiving the bulk of its population during the World War eras, Indianapolis already contained a sizable African American population throughout the twentieth century” (3). As a result, blacks “were not an addendum to the city-building process; rather, they were an integral component of the city’s political economy” (3).
Black and white citizens in Indianapolis had a long tradition of “face-to-face dialogue and lengthy committee deliberation to confront the city’s racial challenges” (2). Yet the author details the countless efforts the African-American community undertook to achieve equality in education, housing, and em-ployment, only to be denied by whites determined to protect the racial status quo. The African-American community was so desperate to break the cycle of systemic racism that they placed their hopes on the shoulders of young, African-American basketball players during the 1951 high-school basketball tournament. While this brought some gain—whites began accepting the black basketball players as the city team instead of a black high school team—the overall racial situation did not change. The white power structure’s fi ght against school desegrega-tion was fi erce and “rarely matched by any other northern city.” Though the NAACP tried to avoid so-called “extremist” tactics by employing a “style of protest [that] preserved the peace and relatively harmonious race relations,” they failed to “achieve timely, effective change” (55). African-American lawyers were trying to achieve two incongruent goals: To desegregate while remaining models of public decorum and to maintain “collegiality with their white counterparts” (55). They soon realized they needed to employ tougher methods.
The system of at-large voting was a major barrier
to the integration of schools and housing. Without ward representation local white politicians had little incentive to challenge the racial status quo and risk the political fallout. Racial restrictive covenants, highway construction that destroyed African Ameri-can neighborhoods, and “spite fences” (high walls built around the homes of black families who dared to move in white neighborhoods) each contributed to an acute housing shortage among African Ameri-cans in Indianapolis well into the 1960s. All the while, African-American leaders struggled with the question of what type of protest was most effective without losing “previously won gains.” They had to be fl exible in order to adapt to the many challenges they confronted.
As in many other cities, African Americans in Indianapolis occupied the bottom rung of the job ladder. Employers and unions foiled all attempts by black workers to gain entry into better jobs. This did not discourage black leaders from encouraging young black men and women to train for jobs not yet open to them, and their leaders repeatedly ad-vised them to be patient and civil in the face of overt racism. According to the author, middle-class lead-ers (mainly professionals) advised patience among the black community because their low-paying jobs paid leaders’ fees.
As if school, housing and employment discrimi-nation were not enough of a burden for African Americans in the city, in 1969 the white community crowned its efforts to contain blacks with the en-actment of Unifi ed Government (Unigov). As the author explains, “Perhaps no other single event demonstrates the many issues that characterized the political economy of race in the city. Community apathy, private cartels, behind-the-scenes deals, political impotency, disunity, and second-class citi-zenship are all to be found in the history of Unigov” (121). By incorporating the mostly white suburbs, the African-American presence in the city, which was projected to increase from 30 to 40 percent by 1970, decreased to 18 percent. As a result, “Afri-can American political strength reverted to levels
reached in 1945” (121).The main contribution of this study to black ur-
ban history is its analysis of the “unique” beliefs and strategies that the African-American community in Indianapolis employed to address racial discrimi-nation in education, housing, employment, and politics. Lacking, however, is suffi cient comparative evidence from other localities to show that African-American beliefs and strategies in Indianapolis were unique to the city. The author has not convinced this writer that “large-scale public demonstrations” were out of character and potentially counter pro-ductive. Part of the problems lies in the brevity of the study. A fuller and more comprehensive study might have revealed more agency on the part of African-American workers, churches, etc. Hope-fully, the author will fi ll the gaps in what is a most interesting and important case study.
Richard W. Thomas
Michigan State University
Mary L. Mapes. A Public Char-ity: Religion and Social Welfare in Indianapolis, 1929-2002. Bloom-ington: Indiana University Press, 2004. 168 pp. ISBN: 0253344808 (cloth), $37.50.
From the New Deal through “Compassionate Conser-vatism,” Mary Mapes uses
Indianapolis as case study to explore religious involvement in the provision of social welfare in America. Her core argument is that Americans view social welfare as “public charity” rather than a “right of citizenship” (3). As a result, the state often has relied on private institutions, including religious ones, to deliver part of the nation’s social services. Though public funds have been a boon to secular and religious nonprofi ts since the 1930s,
the private sphere alone has never been able to de-velop an adequate system of care for those in need. To build her case, Mapes uses an array of written sources, such as newspapers and other contempo-rary periodicals, annual and topical reports from social service agencies, and a variety of master’s theses from Indiana University.
The book unfolds chronologically beginning with the 1930s. During the New Deal, when public so-cial welfare increased sharply, religious agencies in Indianapolis also increased their services. Catholic Charities, for example, became the local host for federal programs such as the WPA. Despite such expansion, Mapes thinks this history refl ects the re-luctance of city leaders to build a welfare state. The city dispensed money to private nonprofi ts because
it wanted to keep its bureaucracy small and religious boundaries sharply drawn. Municipal leaders preferred that Catholic agencies care for their own rather than that the city establish a public system that cared for all. Mapes also sees in this story a critique of conserva-tive arguments today that public welfare undermines private care initiatives. In Indianapolis, both grew together.
In the 1940s and 1950s, reli-gious nonprofi ts—both Protestant and Catholic—shifted their focus from the poor to the middle class. Services were aimed to buttress the traditional family, especially
women’s roles in the home. In turn, the poor got fewer services, often because they could not adhere to the middle-class norm of subsisting solely on male family members’ incomes. During the 1960s, the War on Poverty shifted attention back to the poor and toward a new view of welfare. African Ameri-cans, the poor, and their allies seized on Lyndon B. Johnson’s appeal for maximum feasible participa-tion of community groups to demand that marginal-
ized groups get a voice in how social welfare was conceived and executed in the city. They understood that demand, along with providing basic social services, as rights of citizenship. Religious leaders, especially black clergy, were central to the move-ment. By the 1970s, white churches had become similarly en-gaged, often spurred to action by the white fl ight that transformed their churches and immedi-ate communities. Yet all of these efforts had limited success. Black leaders were ultimately unable to wrest control from the white establishment in city hall, and white churches discovered that many social problems, such as affordable housing, were beyond their means and skill to address.
The fi nal chapter of Mapes’s book explores the current emphasis on faith-based initiatives, pio-neered by Indianapolis’s mayor Stephen Goldsmith in the 1990s and expanded to the national level during George W. Bush’s presidency. Mapes views these efforts as a means to privatize the delivery and responsibility of social welfare, concluding that they are yet another case of casting welfare as public charity. She doubts the churches will be able to shoulder the burden any better now than they have in the past, and worries that in subcontract-ing services the state is shirking its duty to monitor their effectiveness.
A Public Charity is a timely and well-researched monograph. Mapes develops a reasonable critique of religious nonprofi ts in the delivery of social services and rightly asks for a reconsideration of welfare as charity. Her book is welcomed for its contribution to the historical study of welfare as
well as to present political debates.
Michael Sider-RoseChicago, Illinois
Thomas Parrish, with a foreword by Thomas D. Clark. Restoring Shak-ertown: The Struggle to Save the Historic Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 2005. 214 pp. ISBN: 081312364X (cloth), $32.00.
Pleasant Hill, a restored Shaker commu-nity from the mid-nineteenth century outside of Lexington, is one of the
most compelling historical landscapes in the Ohio Valley. Once the location of a thriv-
ing community of successful farmers, stockmen, broom makers, and weavers, Pleasant Hill became a largely forgotten place by the Depression era and its magnifi cent stone and brick buildings became dilapidated barns, dwellings, and storerooms on either side of a two-lane federal highway. Its late-twentieth century restoration is clearly one of the region’s major historic preservation successes.
Thomas Parrish traces the story of the village’s renewal and renovation, beginning in the late 1950s and continuing to the end of the century. Parrish reviews the contributions of several key individuals, such as Earl D. Wallace, James C. Thomas, James L. Coger, Joseph C. Graves, Lucy Graves, and Betty W. Morris, all of whom played important roles in the preservation of other Bluegrass landmarks. Of this group, Wallace is the most important because he brought commitment, professionalism, and an ability to identify and solve the short-term and long-term fi nancial diffi culties of the restoration.
Wallace was the money-man and the lasting les-son of Parrish’s account for historic preservationists will be how restorations are powered by massive amounts of dollars. No matter how noble the vi-sion, no matter how distinguished the members, without large amounts of money, restorations of
large-scale historical landscapes are doomed to struggle and often fail. Wallace’s funding quest was successful because he looked everywhere for assistance: he demanded large donations from board members; developed partnerships with local and state offi cials; and used federal dollars as leverage for even more funding from private foundations.
Parrish is so focused on the money chase that his narrative might best be titled “Funding Shak-ertown.” Preservationists and architectural histo-rians who greatly admire the many distinguished buildings at Pleasant Hill will be disappointed. Parrish gives little attention to the actual architectural res-toration process and various projects to decode the historical landscape through archeology and landscape analysis. Par-rish does not include any of the measured drawings or other types of documentation used in the restoration. Nor do we learn much about the revival of Shaker crafts and decorative arts embodied by the programs and projects at Pleasant Hill.
Scholars also would ex-pect to find more discussion comparing Pleasant Hill with other southern preservation projects of the mid- to late-twentieth century. For example, the changing roles of women in historic preservation appear to be an important story at Pleasant Hill. How does that compare with what happened in neighboring Virginia with the Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities? Women took the early lead at Pleasant Hill, just as they did in many Virginia projects; what was gained, and lost, when the fi -nanciers and corporate executives replaced them is not discussed. Another interesting comparison would have been Pleasant Hill and New Harmony, in neighboring Indiana. How are the restorations alike? Why are they different? While Parrish gives
a note on sources, scholars also would benefi t from footnotes and a full understanding of the sources of the many quotes used in the book.
Parrish, like Wallace and many of the restora-tion’s leadership, stays focused on saving the place and funding the re-creation of a beautiful pristine historic site. Thus, federal grants and loans, the Lilly Foundation, the Blue Grass Trust, and other powerful corporate-public associations, such as the Shakertown Roundtable, dominate the book. Fair enough, because the synergy between these powerful players is what surely saved the build-
ings of Pleasant Hill. What is missing, however, is the soul of the place. The buildings retain center stage, while the people who made the landscape come alive are off-stage, heard in the distance. Will this institutional focus continue to work for Pleasant Hill? Declining numbers of visitors may say no. Telling convincingly the compel-ling counter-narrative of the Shakers might be a fruitful way of restoring interest and visitors and maintaining the signifi cance of this special place for the audiences of the twenty-fi rst century.
Carroll Van WestCenter for Historic Preservation
Middle Tennessee State University
Tarunjit Singh Butalia and Dianne P. Small, eds. Religion in Ohio: Profi les of Faith Communities. Athens: Ohio University Press, 2004. ISBN: 0821415522 (paper), $16.95.
This volume was produced by the Religious Experience Advisory Council of the Ohio Bicentennial Commission and the Interfaith
Association of Central Ohio as part of the state’s bicentennial celebration. It has been placed in ev-ery public library in Ohio and in libraries in many public middle and high schools.
Three opening chapters provide an historical overview of religion in Ohio, a contemporary overview of religious diversity in the state and a discussion of Native American Spiritual Tradi-tions. There follow profi les of forty-two Christian groups (each fi ve to seven pages in length) and eight essays (fourteen to eighteen pages each) profi ling non-Christian religions in Ohio. The format for each of the shorter profi les is ordered identically: “History,” “Beliefs,” “Current Demographics,” “Contact Information,” and “Resources.” The format for discussions of non-Christian groups is similar except that each of these chapters includes a section of advice for visiting each group.
More than fi fty authors contributed to this collec-tion. Some, like Donald Huber and Peter Williams, are history professors. Most are clergy or devotees of the group they describe. Inevitably the entries are somewhat uneven. Some cover the history of a movement (Mormonism or Coptic Christianity, for example) from its beginning, others from its begin-ning in Ohio. Some discuss theology, others reprint creeds. Most chapters offer institutional rather than social or intellectual history. Almost exclusively, the sources cited at the end of the chapters are from denominational presses or archives. The “contacts” consist mainly of denominational websites.
The collection profi les an impressive range of groups. Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Bahai, Sikhism, Jainism and Zoroastrianism are the eight non-Christian groups in the fi nal section. They are discussed in this order, roughly speaking, from the largest of these (the book claims 149,000 Jews and 150,000 Muslims in Ohio) to the smallest (fi fty to 100 Zoroastrians). These chapters are among the best, in part because they are long enough to provide some detail. Some of these include material on the history of these groups here in Ohio that may never have been previously collected for publication.
Christian groups are presented in alphabetical order, from the Amish to the United Church of Christ. The Roman Catholic Church, with 2.2 mil-lion members in Ohio, is the largest sect discussed in the book. The Shakers and the Zoarites are also included, neither of whom have had any living members in Ohio for multiple generations, as are the Swedenborgians who claim three congregations in the state. Missing are some rather large Christian denominations (the Church of the Nazarene, the Church of God in Christ, the Church of God), and some large, growing movements such as the Vine-yard and the mega-churches of modern suburbs.
Each chapter is coherent and seemingly complete standing on its own. Consequently, there is no the-matic development from one to the next. This is an encyclopedia rather than an historical narrative or a monograph. It is a helpful source of information, accessible to general readers, a worthwhile contri-bution to the public by the Bicentennial Commis-sion. Still, a curious irony runs through this volume. The two groups who produced this book are both committed to religious toleration and interfaith co-operation. They point to it whenever possible, and they celebrate it. However, their subject includes literally scores of religious traditions (dare we say religious “factions?”) precisely because toleration and cooperation have been so rare.
On Thursday, April 20, 2006, Cincinnati Mu-seum Center will pay tribute to Dr. John Hope
Franklin as the Distinguished Historian for 2006. The pre-eminent American historian, Dr. Franklin was born in Oklahoma in 1915. He graduated from Fisk University in 1935 and received his Ph.D. from Harvard University in 1941.
He has taught at North Carolina College, How-ard University, Brooklyn College, the University of Chicago and Duke University where he is the James B. Duke Professor Emeritus of History. In 1955 he was the fi rst African American to chair a history department when he was appointed to that position at Brooklyn College.
The author and editor of 17 books, Franklin most recently completed his autobiography, Mirror to America, published by Farrar Straus Giroux in late 2005. His 1947 book, From Slavery to Freedom: A History of African Americans, has sold more than 3.5 million copies and has been translated into Indian, Japanese, German, French, Portuguese and Chinese.
For his scholarship and service, Franklin received the Presidential Medal of Freedom, America’s high-est civilian honor, in 1995. In 1997 President Bill Clinton appointed Franklin to chair the President’s Initiative on Race. Dr. Franklin has received hon-orary degrees from more than 130 colleges and universities and countless awards and prizes. In 1997 PBS produced a documentary on him, First Person Singular: John Hope Franklin.
Dr. Franklin wrote a biography of George Washington Williams in 1985 and did much of his
research in Cincinnati, including the Cincinnati Historical Society Library. He has a fondness for Cincinnati, which is why we were able to schedule this appearance.
The evening will begin with a reception and din-ner from 5:30 to 7:30. The lecture will take place at 7:30, followed by book sales and signing. The cost for the reception, dinner and lecture is $60 with the lecture only at $15. Reservations must be made for either. For reservations, please call 513-287-7021. The event will take place at Cincinnati Museum Center at Union Terminal, 1301 Western Avenue, Cincinnati, OH 45203.
Johnson Investment Counsel sponsors the Dis-tinguished Historian lecture.
Master’s Thesis FellowshipsEligibility: M.A. candidate at the thesis stageTenure of Fellowship: One weekAmount of Award: $500Note: Full support is available for one-week fellowships to encourage use of Filson research collections by M.A. students developing and researching thesis topics. Partial support is avail-able for students residing in Kentucky who travel from beyond the greater Louisville area.
Filson FellowshipsEligibility: Ph.D. or equivalent, or doctoral candi-date at the dissertation stageTenure of Fellowship: One weekAmount of Award: $500Note: Full support is available for a one-week fellowship period. Partial support is available for scholars residing in Kentucky who travel from beyond the greater Louisville area.
C. Ballard Breaux Visiting FellowshipsEligibility: Ph.D. or equivalentTenure of Fellowship: One monthAmount of Award: $2,000Note: Full support for post-doctoral scholars living outside of Kentucky is available for a one-month residence. Partial support is available for scholars residing in Kentucky who travel from beyond the greater Louisville area. Applicants for Breaux Visiting Fellowships are automatically considered for Filson Fellowships.
The Filson Historical Society invites applications for fellowships and internships. Applications must be received by October 15, 2006.
Fellowships and internships are funded by a variety of sources. Fellowships encourage the
scholarly use of The Filson’s nationally signifi cant collections by providing support for travel and lodging. Internships provide practical experience in collections management and research for gradu-ate students. Fellows as well as interns are in con-tinuous residence at The Filson. Applications are reviewed twice a year, February 15 and October 15. Applicants should indicate how The Filson’s collections are relevant to their research topics and will have the opportunity to present the results of their research to scholars and the general public as appropriate. For more information about fellow-ships and internships, application procedures, and to view The Filson’s online catalog, please visit www.fi lsonhistorical.org, or call 502-635-5083.
Since its founding in 1884, The Filson has pre-served the region’s collective memory. The Filson contains research collections documenting the history and culture of Kentucky, the Ohio Valley, and the Upper South. The Library and Special Col-lections include rare books, maps, and 1.5 million manuscripts, forming the best research holdings in Kentucky for the frontier, antebellum, and Civil War eras in addition to extensive collections for the late-nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Fellowships and Internships of The Filson Historical Society
Filson InternsEligibility: Current enrollment in or recent completion of a graduate program in history or a related fi eldTenure of Internship: Two semestersAmount of Award: $1,000 per semesterNote: Interns work with appropriate curatorial staff and faculty advisors in areas of collections management and research.
H. F. Boehl Summer InternsEligibility: Current enrollment in or recent completion of a graduate program in history or a related fi eldTenure of Internship: One to three months sum-mer residenceAmount of Award: $1,200 per monthNote: Interns work with appropriate curatorial staff and faculty advisors in areas of collections management and research.
Submission Information for Contributors to Ohio Valley History
Four paper copies of a manuscript should be sent by postal mail to:
Christopher Phillips, Senior EditorOhio Valley HistoryDepartment of HistoryP.O. Box 210373University of CincinnatiCincinnati, Ohio 45221-0373
• Preferred manuscript length is roughly 22 to 25 pages, exclusive of endnotes, on one side of 8.5 x 11 inch paper.
• Please use 11 or 12-point type.
• Double-space text and notes, with notes placed at the end of the manuscript text.
• Author’s name and institutional affi liation on title page only.
• Illustrations, tables, and maps that signifi cantly enhance the article are welcome.
• Authors who submit photos should also pro-vide citations, cut lines, credits, and suggestions for placement of images.
• Regarding general form and style, please follow the 15th edition of the Chicago Manual of Style.
• Please include a working postal address, with telephone, fax, and e-mail information for home or offi ce, as well as for extensive holiday or sabbatical residences.
The refereeing process for manuscripts is blind. Referees are members of our editorial board or other specialists in the academy most appropriate to each manuscript. We have no quotas of any kind with regard to authorship, topic, chronological period, or methodology—the practitioners via their submissions determine what we publish. Authors must guarantee in writing that the work is original, that it has not been previously published, and that it is not under consideration for publication elsewhere in any form.
Should a manuscript be accepted for publication, the author will be asked to provide a computer disk, clearly labeled with the name of the author, fi le, and saved in Microsoft Word. We do not have the capacity to translate alternative programs.
Accepted manuscripts undergo a reasonable yet rigorous editing process. We will read the manuscript very closely as to style, grammar, and argument. The edited manuscript will be submitted to the author for consideration before publication.
The Filson Historical Society (FHS), Cincinnati Museum Center (CMC), and the University of Cincin-nati (UC) hold jointly the copyright for all material published in Ohio Valley History. After a work is published in the journal, FHS/CMC/UC will grant the author, upon written request, permission to republish the work, without fee, subject to the author giving proper credit of prior publication to Ohio Valley His-tory. Each author will receive fi ve free copies of the journal in which the published article appears.
