MINNIJEAN BROWN WAS ONE OF THE LITTLE ROCK NINE who integrated Central High School in 1957. Targeted by segregationist students because she would respond to their taunting, she spilled chili on a group of white boys in December and was finally expelled in February 1958, allegedly for calling a girl "white trash. " This resulted in an image of Brown as the angriest of the Little Rock Nine, even among those sympathetic to her plight. Vice Principal for Girls Elizabeth Huckaby, for instance, wrote: "It was not volatile, natural Minnijean that was our problem. It was just that she and our impossible situation would not mix. "' In an interview conducted in September 2003 in Little Rock, Minnijean Brown Trickey challenged this characterization and offered her own reflections on the crisis, its aftermath, and its impact on her life. Elizabeth Jacoway: You just said that the person I'm talking to now is not the person I've read about, that all the character assassination was done on. Minnijean Brown: Right, exactly. EJ: So what is different about Minnijean Brown from the portrait that was painted? MB: I don't really know. I've spent, what, forty-seven years trying to get to it. Somebody brought a whole scrapbook to the [Central High National Historic Site museum], a donation. Somebody's wife had kept this whole thing, and my daughter [who works at the museum] was so excited. She said, "Do you want to read it?" and I said, "No." My mother said, "Not only can she not read it, but don't you read it either because it's so vicious." And I hadn't even remembered it because when you're in that situation you are really too busy to think about whether somebody likes you at the newspaper or not, but then my daughter did read some of it. She said, "Well, did you do this, and did you do that?" And I said, "I told you not to read it because you can't ask me those questions because it's too close to me. It hurts too much when you ask me those questions." It was very puzzling to her because she knows me, and then she's reading this portrayal of me. She said "I don't get it, but it's very persuasive." I've thought a lot about it and come to the conclusion for this week that who I am was really too much for them, whether assuming they had to build a whole character around me to justify hating me. So it was kind of cruel when I kind of figured that out. And the other thing, a documentary was made, a Canadian production, and the producer-researcher found all this footage for us to look at, and I saw this one of one of our first press conferences. [Reporters] said, "Why do you want to go to Central?" and I couldn't think of any reason so I said, "Everything is okay as long as we [African Americans] are giving our lives in the war and working hard, but, when it comes for equalization, we are turned down." I was exactly fifteen at that time, and when I saw that about four years ago I said, "Oh that explains who I am." I was there already, and I was that person and had an anal
MINNIJEAN BROWN是1957年加入中央高中的小石城九人之一。由于她会对种族隔离主义学生的嘲笑做出回应，她在12月将辣椒洒在一群白人男孩身上，最终于1958年2月被开除，据称是因为她称一名女孩为“白人垃圾”。这导致了布朗在小石城九人中最愤怒的形象，即使在那些同情她困境的人中间也是如此。例如，负责女生的副校长伊丽莎白·赫卡比(Elizabeth Huckaby)写道:“我们的问题不是不稳定的、自然的Minnijean。只是她和我们这种不可能的情况不太协调。2003年9月在小石城进行的一次采访中，Minnijean Brown Trickey对这种描述提出了质疑，并提出了她自己对这场危机、危机的后果以及危机对她生活的影响的看法。伊丽莎白·杰科维:你刚才说我现在正在谈话的人不是我读到的那个人，所有的人格攻击都是针对他的。Minnijean Brown:没错。约翰:那么Minnijean Brown和画中的画像有什么不同呢?MB:我真的不知道。我花了四十七年的时间才找到它。有人给中央高中国家历史遗址博物馆捐赠了一整本剪贴簿。某个人的妻子保留了这一切，我的女儿(在博物馆工作)非常兴奋。她说:“你想看吗?”我说:“不想。”我妈妈说:“不仅她不能读，你也不要读，因为它太恶毒了。”我甚至都不记得了，因为当你在那种情况下，你真的太忙了，没有时间去想报纸上是否有人喜欢你，但后来我女儿确实读了一些。她说:“嗯，你做了这个，你做了那个吗?”我说:“我告诉过你不要读它，因为你不能问我那些问题，因为它离我太近了。当你问我这些问题时，我太伤心了。”这让她很困惑，因为她了解我，然后她看到了我的形象。她说:“我不明白，但这很有说服力。”我想了很多，这周得出的结论是，对于他们来说，我这个人实在是太过分了，假设他们必须围绕我建立一个完整的角色来证明他们讨厌我的理由。所以当我意识到这一点时，这有点残酷。另一件事是，加拿大制作了一部纪录片，制片人兼研究员找到了所有这些镜头给我们看，我在我们的第一次新闻发布会上看到了这一幕。(记者)问:“你为什么想去中环?”我想不出任何理由，于是我说:“只要我们(非洲裔美国人)在战争中献出生命，努力工作，一切都没问题，但是，当谈到平等问题时，我们被拒绝了。”那时候我正好15岁，当我四年前看到这些的时候，我说:“哦，这就解释了我是谁。”我已经在那里了，我就是那个人，我做了分析，所以我没事。我不会比以前多，也不会比以前少。这对我来说是件好事。花了四十五年，四十六年才真正弄明白，所以回到这里对我有点帮助。约翰:我想是的。MB:在我的其他生活环境中，我不能很好地理解它。我的意思是，我甚至没有告诉我的孩子，因为我不能，这没有任何意义。我的女儿，我想，大约十四岁，告诉她的原因是因为伊丽莎白·赫卡比的电影《中央高中危机》正在上映。我说:“我想让你们看看这个。”他们看了，然后我不得不向我的孩子们解释。但我没有，这有点像大屠杀的人不能告诉他们的孩子，因为没有背景。你不能对一个善良无辜的人说不人道的话。你甚至不想让他们知道这是真的。我不想让他们年纪轻轻就泄气，所以我没有告诉他们。约翰:你甚至没有告诉他们你是小石城九人组的一员?…
{"title":"Not Anger but Sorrow: Minnijean Brown Trickey Remembers the Little Rock Crisis","authors":"Elizabeth Jacoway, Minnijean Brown Trickey","doi":"10.2307/40018557","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/40018557","url":null,"abstract":"MINNIJEAN BROWN WAS ONE OF THE LITTLE ROCK NINE who integrated Central High School in 1957. Targeted by segregationist students because she would respond to their taunting, she spilled chili on a group of white boys in December and was finally expelled in February 1958, allegedly for calling a girl \"white trash. \" This resulted in an image of Brown as the angriest of the Little Rock Nine, even among those sympathetic to her plight. Vice Principal for Girls Elizabeth Huckaby, for instance, wrote: \"It was not volatile, natural Minnijean that was our problem. It was just that she and our impossible situation would not mix. \"' In an interview conducted in September 2003 in Little Rock, Minnijean Brown Trickey challenged this characterization and offered her own reflections on the crisis, its aftermath, and its impact on her life. Elizabeth Jacoway: You just said that the person I'm talking to now is not the person I've read about, that all the character assassination was done on. Minnijean Brown: Right, exactly. EJ: So what is different about Minnijean Brown from the portrait that was painted? MB: I don't really know. I've spent, what, forty-seven years trying to get to it. Somebody brought a whole scrapbook to the [Central High National Historic Site museum], a donation. Somebody's wife had kept this whole thing, and my daughter [who works at the museum] was so excited. She said, \"Do you want to read it?\" and I said, \"No.\" My mother said, \"Not only can she not read it, but don't you read it either because it's so vicious.\" And I hadn't even remembered it because when you're in that situation you are really too busy to think about whether somebody likes you at the newspaper or not, but then my daughter did read some of it. She said, \"Well, did you do this, and did you do that?\" And I said, \"I told you not to read it because you can't ask me those questions because it's too close to me. It hurts too much when you ask me those questions.\" It was very puzzling to her because she knows me, and then she's reading this portrayal of me. She said \"I don't get it, but it's very persuasive.\" I've thought a lot about it and come to the conclusion for this week that who I am was really too much for them, whether assuming they had to build a whole character around me to justify hating me. So it was kind of cruel when I kind of figured that out. And the other thing, a documentary was made, a Canadian production, and the producer-researcher found all this footage for us to look at, and I saw this one of one of our first press conferences. [Reporters] said, \"Why do you want to go to Central?\" and I couldn't think of any reason so I said, \"Everything is okay as long as we [African Americans] are giving our lives in the war and working hard, but, when it comes for equalization, we are turned down.\" I was exactly fifteen at that time, and when I saw that about four years ago I said, \"Oh that explains who I am.\" I was there already, and I was that person and had an anal","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"45 1","pages":"1"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2005-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/40018557","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"68687581","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
ON THE FIRST DAY OF 1858, sitting in a silent, empty house on Main Street in Batesville, Arkansas, a slender man, between coughing spells, penned a letter to his nephew in far-off Virginia: I am the sole tenant of the old mansion, sleep in it and write from a room filled with a thousand memories of the past. Were I a believer in spiritualism and a medium, I could conjure up many beloved forms, who have passed from this to a better world. I do not ever feel lonely-a pleasant and sad feeling comes over me-soothing in its influence than otherwise. . . . What will the year 1858 do? How many who enter it full of life and hope are destined ere its race is over to sleep in the cold and silent grave. . . . I have scarcely the shadow of a hope that I shall be able to visit Virginia. I am beginning to feel old and somehow or other have not managed to have me a home. I shall build this summer and then I expect to pass quietly away the life it may please a kind providence to grant me.1 In another man, such musings might have seemed morbid affectation. From Charles Fenton Mercer Noland, they were an honest assessment of his circumstances. He was back in Batesville to handle the depressing business of disposing of his father-in-law's estate. John Ringgold had recently vanished from the dark deck of a steamboat on the Mississippi River. Despite Ringgold's financial success-he was known as one of the most important businessmen in north Arkansas-the Panic of 1857 and his unexpected death had conspired to eat up much of his wealth. Ringgold's wife, Elizabeth, had died two years earlier, and the couple's daughters had married, leaving the brick house empty. Noland's own circumstances were happier, with a beautiful wife and a thirteen-year-old son. Thanks to two decades of publishing letters that had been embraced by a national audience, he was famous. As a legislator, public official, and newspaperman, he had also become a luminary among Arkansas's Whig minority. He was about to build in Little Rock the first home he had ever owned. Yet there were aspects of his life that dimmed the brightness of the future he hoped for. At forty-seven, he had enjoyed little financial success of his own, despite years of seeking the right endeavor, one that would be worthy of his enthusiasm and abilities and bring material rewards. He had lived in Little Rock for two years, and he had worked in three jobs, none of which proved satisfying to him. In addition, there was his persistent bad health. For more than two decades, he had been weakened by "consumption" and had several times been ill to the point of expecting to die. By 1858, his health was worse than ever, and he knew it. His words to his nephew were prophetic-before six months had passed, he would "sleep in the cold and silent grave," in a donated plot in Little Rock's Mount Holly cemetery. His son, Lewis Berkeley Noland, would marry and manage to live through the Civil War, only to die childless in 1870 after a fall from hi
{"title":"Fent Noland: The Early Years","authors":"G. Lankford","doi":"10.2307/40018558","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/40018558","url":null,"abstract":"ON THE FIRST DAY OF 1858, sitting in a silent, empty house on Main Street in Batesville, Arkansas, a slender man, between coughing spells, penned a letter to his nephew in far-off Virginia: I am the sole tenant of the old mansion, sleep in it and write from a room filled with a thousand memories of the past. Were I a believer in spiritualism and a medium, I could conjure up many beloved forms, who have passed from this to a better world. I do not ever feel lonely-a pleasant and sad feeling comes over me-soothing in its influence than otherwise. . . . What will the year 1858 do? How many who enter it full of life and hope are destined ere its race is over to sleep in the cold and silent grave. . . . I have scarcely the shadow of a hope that I shall be able to visit Virginia. I am beginning to feel old and somehow or other have not managed to have me a home. I shall build this summer and then I expect to pass quietly away the life it may please a kind providence to grant me.1 In another man, such musings might have seemed morbid affectation. From Charles Fenton Mercer Noland, they were an honest assessment of his circumstances. He was back in Batesville to handle the depressing business of disposing of his father-in-law's estate. John Ringgold had recently vanished from the dark deck of a steamboat on the Mississippi River. Despite Ringgold's financial success-he was known as one of the most important businessmen in north Arkansas-the Panic of 1857 and his unexpected death had conspired to eat up much of his wealth. Ringgold's wife, Elizabeth, had died two years earlier, and the couple's daughters had married, leaving the brick house empty. Noland's own circumstances were happier, with a beautiful wife and a thirteen-year-old son. Thanks to two decades of publishing letters that had been embraced by a national audience, he was famous. As a legislator, public official, and newspaperman, he had also become a luminary among Arkansas's Whig minority. He was about to build in Little Rock the first home he had ever owned. Yet there were aspects of his life that dimmed the brightness of the future he hoped for. At forty-seven, he had enjoyed little financial success of his own, despite years of seeking the right endeavor, one that would be worthy of his enthusiasm and abilities and bring material rewards. He had lived in Little Rock for two years, and he had worked in three jobs, none of which proved satisfying to him. In addition, there was his persistent bad health. For more than two decades, he had been weakened by \"consumption\" and had several times been ill to the point of expecting to die. By 1858, his health was worse than ever, and he knew it. His words to his nephew were prophetic-before six months had passed, he would \"sleep in the cold and silent grave,\" in a donated plot in Little Rock's Mount Holly cemetery. His son, Lewis Berkeley Noland, would marry and manage to live through the Civil War, only to die childless in 1870 after a fall from hi","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"64 1","pages":"27"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2005-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/40018558","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"68687642","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Wilderness Journey: The Life of William Clark. By William E. Foley. (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2004. Pp. xiv, 326. Preface, acknowledgments, epilogue, notes, bibliography, index. $29.95.) William Clark and the Shaping of the West. By Landon Y. Jones. (New York: Hill and Wang, 2004. Pp. xi, 394. Maps, prologue, notes, bibliography, acknowledgments, index. $25.00.) This assignment looked like an easy day at the office: two biographies of the soldier, explorer, businessman, and administrator William Clark, one by William Foley, who brings to the project a lifetime of scholarship on frontier zones, the other by Landon Jones, former managing editor of People magazine. Praise the first for its careful scholarship, trash the second for popularizing, case closed, work done, early lunch? No. Jones, it turns out, has been doing People as a day job, spending his off hours as a scholar of the early national period. And while this may irk the lazy reviewer, to readers it is fine news, for the bicentennial of the Louisiana Purchase now becomes the occasion for not one but two very strong studies of an individual whose life is well worth the time. It must be said first, however, that most readers will find that time passing much more enjoyably in the company of Jones. With Foley, the war against cliche has lost a skirmish. Deaf ears get turned, or get lent sympathetically; people don't die of disease if they can succumb to its ravages; "intents" never travels without "purposes"-the reader starts to search and count (and to wonder what it is that an editor does). Jones's prose gets a boost by comparison, but it is plenty good on its own. His talent for characterization is striking. A short paragraph on Nicholas Biddle, for example, conveys the depth of the man who took over the journals of the overland expedition. When Jones discovers in the minor figure Judge John B. Lucas not only an angry man but a brilliantly vituperative one, he knows to give him room to lambaste Clark, creating for the reader a better feel for both of them. In Foley's hands, Clark's world has only people; Jones gives it a cast. Much of this he does on his own, but when he finds help he uses it, and with the superb observers passing through the landscapes of Clark's life-Charles Dickens, Washington Irving, Alexis Tocqueville, among others-there is much help available. And Jones doesn't limit himself to the big names. Henry Marie Brackenridge, small stuff beside Dickens, certainly, but a fine journal keeper, delights in the image of the conniving entrepreneurial sharpie Manuel Lisa out on the Missouri reading Don Quixote, and, through Jones, the reader does too. But Foley sticks to his work, and his conventionality is often a strength. Though Clark is nineteen years old by the second chapter of both books, Jones more or less gives birth to him at that age, having used his first chapter to introduce William's famous older brother, George, the hero-turned-drunken-burden who stagg
{"title":"Wilderness Journey: The Life of William Clark/William Clark and the Shaping of the West","authors":"D. Sloan","doi":"10.5860/choice.42-2996","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.42-2996","url":null,"abstract":"Wilderness Journey: The Life of William Clark. By William E. Foley. (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2004. Pp. xiv, 326. Preface, acknowledgments, epilogue, notes, bibliography, index. $29.95.) William Clark and the Shaping of the West. By Landon Y. Jones. (New York: Hill and Wang, 2004. Pp. xi, 394. Maps, prologue, notes, bibliography, acknowledgments, index. $25.00.) This assignment looked like an easy day at the office: two biographies of the soldier, explorer, businessman, and administrator William Clark, one by William Foley, who brings to the project a lifetime of scholarship on frontier zones, the other by Landon Jones, former managing editor of People magazine. Praise the first for its careful scholarship, trash the second for popularizing, case closed, work done, early lunch? No. Jones, it turns out, has been doing People as a day job, spending his off hours as a scholar of the early national period. And while this may irk the lazy reviewer, to readers it is fine news, for the bicentennial of the Louisiana Purchase now becomes the occasion for not one but two very strong studies of an individual whose life is well worth the time. It must be said first, however, that most readers will find that time passing much more enjoyably in the company of Jones. With Foley, the war against cliche has lost a skirmish. Deaf ears get turned, or get lent sympathetically; people don't die of disease if they can succumb to its ravages; \"intents\" never travels without \"purposes\"-the reader starts to search and count (and to wonder what it is that an editor does). Jones's prose gets a boost by comparison, but it is plenty good on its own. His talent for characterization is striking. A short paragraph on Nicholas Biddle, for example, conveys the depth of the man who took over the journals of the overland expedition. When Jones discovers in the minor figure Judge John B. Lucas not only an angry man but a brilliantly vituperative one, he knows to give him room to lambaste Clark, creating for the reader a better feel for both of them. In Foley's hands, Clark's world has only people; Jones gives it a cast. Much of this he does on his own, but when he finds help he uses it, and with the superb observers passing through the landscapes of Clark's life-Charles Dickens, Washington Irving, Alexis Tocqueville, among others-there is much help available. And Jones doesn't limit himself to the big names. Henry Marie Brackenridge, small stuff beside Dickens, certainly, but a fine journal keeper, delights in the image of the conniving entrepreneurial sharpie Manuel Lisa out on the Missouri reading Don Quixote, and, through Jones, the reader does too. But Foley sticks to his work, and his conventionality is often a strength. Though Clark is nineteen years old by the second chapter of both books, Jones more or less gives birth to him at that age, having used his first chapter to introduce William's famous older brother, George, the hero-turned-drunken-burden who stagg","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"64 1","pages":"106"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2005-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71104295","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
THE PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE, first composed in the nineteenth century, has once again become a topic of considerable editorial comment and political posturing in the twenty-first century, as seventeen states have enacted new pledge laws or amended existing statutes.1 Nonetheless, there is little evidence that many citizens or elected officials are aware of the history and consequences of attempts by patriotic organizations, local school districts, and state governments to define and require expressions of appropriate sentiments about the nation's flag. This essay examines incidents at two schools in Washington County, Arkansas, during the early 1940s, when public school children refused to pledge allegiance to the flag because of their religious beliefs and suffered the consequences. While these were certainly not the only instances of controversy over the flag salute in Arkansas schools in that period, the Washington County episodes serve as an effective case study. They suggest something of the motives, actions, and experiences of those involved in similar incidents across Arkansas and the nation. The school flag movement began in 1888, when James Upham, head of the premium department of Youth s Companion magazine, launched a four-year campaign to encourage the display of United States flags in school classrooms, in order both to sell flags and to promote "American patriotism." The following year, Col. George Thatcher Balch introduced an American flag salute in his New York City kindergarten class, requiring students to stretch their right arm forward while pledging, "We give our heads and our hearts to God and our country; one country, one language, one Flag." Balch spread his ideas for inculcating Americanism by publishing a book, Methods of Teaching Patriotism in Public Schools, in 1890. Youth's Companion had already sold over 25,000 flags to public schools when it first published the Pledge of Allegiance in its issue of September 8, 1892. It wished to promote nationalism in the schools during the celebration of that October's 400th anniversary of Columbus's arrival in the Americas. Written by Francis Bellamy, a thirty-year-old assistant to the editor of the magazine, the Pledge originally read, "I pledge allegiance to my Flag and to the Republic for which it stands: one Nation indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all." Leaflets containing the Pledge were distributed to public schools, and an estimated twelve million students recited the Pledge on Columbus Day, 1892.3 The drums of war, as always, found public officials and professional patriots ready to seek national unity through the force of law. In 1898, as the United States went to war with Spain, the New York legislature passed the first statute mandating that each public school day open with a salute to the flag and other patriotic exercises. What had begun as a youth magazine's publicity campaign to promote patriotism and sell flags had become a ritual required by law. During World
{"title":"Patriotism, Pledging Allegiance, and Public Schools: Lessons from Washington County in the 1940s","authors":"S. Smith","doi":"10.2307/40018559","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/40018559","url":null,"abstract":"THE PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE, first composed in the nineteenth century, has once again become a topic of considerable editorial comment and political posturing in the twenty-first century, as seventeen states have enacted new pledge laws or amended existing statutes.1 Nonetheless, there is little evidence that many citizens or elected officials are aware of the history and consequences of attempts by patriotic organizations, local school districts, and state governments to define and require expressions of appropriate sentiments about the nation's flag. This essay examines incidents at two schools in Washington County, Arkansas, during the early 1940s, when public school children refused to pledge allegiance to the flag because of their religious beliefs and suffered the consequences. While these were certainly not the only instances of controversy over the flag salute in Arkansas schools in that period, the Washington County episodes serve as an effective case study. They suggest something of the motives, actions, and experiences of those involved in similar incidents across Arkansas and the nation. The school flag movement began in 1888, when James Upham, head of the premium department of Youth s Companion magazine, launched a four-year campaign to encourage the display of United States flags in school classrooms, in order both to sell flags and to promote \"American patriotism.\" The following year, Col. George Thatcher Balch introduced an American flag salute in his New York City kindergarten class, requiring students to stretch their right arm forward while pledging, \"We give our heads and our hearts to God and our country; one country, one language, one Flag.\" Balch spread his ideas for inculcating Americanism by publishing a book, Methods of Teaching Patriotism in Public Schools, in 1890. Youth's Companion had already sold over 25,000 flags to public schools when it first published the Pledge of Allegiance in its issue of September 8, 1892. It wished to promote nationalism in the schools during the celebration of that October's 400th anniversary of Columbus's arrival in the Americas. Written by Francis Bellamy, a thirty-year-old assistant to the editor of the magazine, the Pledge originally read, \"I pledge allegiance to my Flag and to the Republic for which it stands: one Nation indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all.\" Leaflets containing the Pledge were distributed to public schools, and an estimated twelve million students recited the Pledge on Columbus Day, 1892.3 The drums of war, as always, found public officials and professional patriots ready to seek national unity through the force of law. In 1898, as the United States went to war with Spain, the New York legislature passed the first statute mandating that each public school day open with a salute to the flag and other patriotic exercises. What had begun as a youth magazine's publicity campaign to promote patriotism and sell flags had become a ritual required by law. During World ","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"64 1","pages":"48"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2005-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/40018559","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"68687774","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Arkansas Listings in the National Register of Historic Places: Fraternal Buildings of Little Rock's Ninth Street Business District","authors":"Zackery A. Cothren","doi":"10.2307/40028051","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/40028051","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"64 1","pages":"317"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2005-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/40028051","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"68724305","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
STUCK INSIDE A JAIL CELL IN ALBANY, GEORGIA, in July 1962, civil rights activist William Hansen was having trouble meeting with his attorney. He had been arrested for participating in a demonstration, but when the attorney, C. B. King, insisted on seeing his client, Dougherty County sheriff "Cull" Campbell became enraged. "Nigger, haven't I told you to wait outside?" he said. ' Campbell then picked up a cane and began beating the attorney. The next day the New York Times published a photograph of King, his head bandaged, leaving the hospital.2 Hansen, however, had met with even harsher treatment. He had been thrown into a cell full of whites who were by no means sympathetic to the cause of civil rights and even less sympathetic toward a northern agitator like Hansen. He was savagely beaten, with his jaw shattered and several of his ribs broken. Only twenty-one years old at the time, Hansen had a long career as a political activist ahead of him. Hansen arrived in Little Rock, Arkansas, later that year to head up a new branch of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), a grass-roots organization that sought to harness the rising tide of black political consciousness in the South. Hansen's organizational skills earned him appointment to the post, but his interest in civil rights and his desire to fight racism dated to his childhood. Born in Cincinnati in 1939, Hansen grew up in a strict working-class Catholic family. His religious upbringing helped propel him toward a life as a political activist. "The extreme moral rigidity of American Catholicism in the pre-Vatican II days," he later recalled, "had a way of leading in the direction I went with regard to race and politics .... Its rigid moral doctrine, if accepted, would lead logically toward a certain set of actions."3 Hansen's direct experience with African Americans also shaped his political outlook. He recalled how attending baseball games-sitting in the cheap bleacher seats at Crosley Field to see the Cincinnati Reds play-allowed positive interactions with black people: I was a ten to sixteen-year-old kid who made acquaintances with many of these older black men who, it seemed to me, knew everything about baseball. They took a liking to [me]. I remember at first not being able to figure out why all these Cincinnatians supported the Brooklyn Dodgers over their hometown team. I finally figured out it was because of Jackie Robinson. That realization told me something about the society I was being raised in. Like many people of his generation, Hansen also watched the aftermath of the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision, as well as the 1956 Montgomery Bus Boycott, with rapt attention. He quickly found himself siding with civil rights activists, thinking "it was dumb to be arrested for sitting in the wrong seat in a bus."4 Personal relationships with blacks also played a role in the development of Hansen's political consciousness. When he was seventeen years old, he became friends
1962年7月，在乔治亚州奥尔巴尼的一间牢房里，民权活动家威廉·汉森与他的律师会面时遇到了麻烦。他因参加示威游行而被捕，但当律师c·b·金坚持要见他的当事人时，多尔蒂县治安官“卡尔”·坎贝尔被激怒了。“黑鬼，我不是叫你在外面等着吗?”他说。坎贝尔随后拿起一根手杖开始殴打律师。第二天，《纽约时报》刊登了一张金头上缠着绷带离开医院的照片然而，汉森遭到了更严厉的对待。他被关进了一个满是白人的牢房，这些白人根本不同情民权事业，更不同情像汉森这样的北方煽动者。他被狠狠地打了一顿，下巴碎了，几根肋骨断了。当时汉森只有21岁，他作为一名政治活动家有着漫长的职业生涯。那年晚些时候，汉森来到阿肯色州的小石城，领导学生非暴力协调委员会(SNCC)的一个新分支机构，这是一个旨在利用南方黑人政治意识高涨的草根组织。汉森的组织能力为他赢得了这个职位，但他对民权的兴趣和反对种族主义的愿望可以追溯到他的童年。汉森1939年出生于辛辛那提，成长于一个严格的工人阶级天主教家庭。他的宗教教育促使他走上了政治活动家的道路。“在梵二会议之前的日子里，美国天主教的极端道德僵化，”他后来回忆说，“在某种程度上引导了我在种族和政治方面的方向....其严格的道德教义，如果被接受，将会在逻辑上导致一系列特定的行为。汉森与非裔美国人的直接接触也塑造了他的政治观。他回忆起参加棒球比赛——坐在克罗斯利球场廉价的看台座位上观看辛辛那提红人队的比赛——是如何让我与黑人产生积极的互动的:我是一个10到16岁的孩子，结识了许多年长的黑人，在我看来，他们对棒球了如指掌。他们喜欢上[我]了。我记得一开始我不明白为什么所有这些辛辛那提人都支持布鲁克林道奇队，而不是他们的家乡球队。我终于明白那是因为杰基·罗宾逊。这种认识告诉了我一些关于我成长的社会的事情。和他那一代的许多人一样，汉森也全神贯注地关注着1954年布朗诉教育委员会案(Brown v. Board of Education)判决的后果，以及1956年蒙哥马利抵制公交车事件(Montgomery Bus Boycott)。他很快发现自己站在民权活动人士一边，认为“在公共汽车上坐错了座位而被逮捕是愚蠢的。”与黑人的私人关系也在汉森政治意识的发展中发挥了作用。17岁时，他和年轻的黑人比尔·梅森成了朋友，经常和他一起打篮球。这是汉森与工人阶级社区以外的人的第一次友谊。梅森经常邀请汉森到他家做客，汉森发现自己被当作梅森家的一员来对待。两年后，梅森一家收留了汉森，他和他们一起住了一年。他们的热情与他想象中的黑人和白人通常相互交往的方式形成了鲜明的对比1957年秋天，汉森在辛辛那提的泽维尔大学(Xavier University)上学时，第一次涉足民权运动。他与大卫·麦卡锡(David McCarthy)建立了联系，后者是当地一位积极参与这项事业的牧师。汉森和麦卡锡与比尔·梅森一起成立了泽维尔跨种族委员会。汉森后来淡化了它的重要性，认为它只不过是“一个了解他人的场所”。但委员会允许汉森与其他民权组织进行重要接触，如种族平等大会(CORE)。…
{"title":"In the Storm: William Hansen and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee in Arkansas, 1962-1967","authors":"Brent E. Riffel","doi":"10.2307/40023657","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/40023657","url":null,"abstract":"STUCK INSIDE A JAIL CELL IN ALBANY, GEORGIA, in July 1962, civil rights activist William Hansen was having trouble meeting with his attorney. He had been arrested for participating in a demonstration, but when the attorney, C. B. King, insisted on seeing his client, Dougherty County sheriff \"Cull\" Campbell became enraged. \"Nigger, haven't I told you to wait outside?\" he said. ' Campbell then picked up a cane and began beating the attorney. The next day the New York Times published a photograph of King, his head bandaged, leaving the hospital.2 Hansen, however, had met with even harsher treatment. He had been thrown into a cell full of whites who were by no means sympathetic to the cause of civil rights and even less sympathetic toward a northern agitator like Hansen. He was savagely beaten, with his jaw shattered and several of his ribs broken. Only twenty-one years old at the time, Hansen had a long career as a political activist ahead of him. Hansen arrived in Little Rock, Arkansas, later that year to head up a new branch of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), a grass-roots organization that sought to harness the rising tide of black political consciousness in the South. Hansen's organizational skills earned him appointment to the post, but his interest in civil rights and his desire to fight racism dated to his childhood. Born in Cincinnati in 1939, Hansen grew up in a strict working-class Catholic family. His religious upbringing helped propel him toward a life as a political activist. \"The extreme moral rigidity of American Catholicism in the pre-Vatican II days,\" he later recalled, \"had a way of leading in the direction I went with regard to race and politics .... Its rigid moral doctrine, if accepted, would lead logically toward a certain set of actions.\"3 Hansen's direct experience with African Americans also shaped his political outlook. He recalled how attending baseball games-sitting in the cheap bleacher seats at Crosley Field to see the Cincinnati Reds play-allowed positive interactions with black people: I was a ten to sixteen-year-old kid who made acquaintances with many of these older black men who, it seemed to me, knew everything about baseball. They took a liking to [me]. I remember at first not being able to figure out why all these Cincinnatians supported the Brooklyn Dodgers over their hometown team. I finally figured out it was because of Jackie Robinson. That realization told me something about the society I was being raised in. Like many people of his generation, Hansen also watched the aftermath of the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision, as well as the 1956 Montgomery Bus Boycott, with rapt attention. He quickly found himself siding with civil rights activists, thinking \"it was dumb to be arrested for sitting in the wrong seat in a bus.\"4 Personal relationships with blacks also played a role in the development of Hansen's political consciousness. When he was seventeen years old, he became friends","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"63 1","pages":"404"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2004-12-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/40023657","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"68705585","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
ON THE DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING, 1 862, Union and Confederate forces clashed for eight hours in a spectacular twelve-mile running fight in northwest Arkansas. The battle of Cane Hill has attracted a modest amount of attention from historians in recent years, but the handful of published accounts have failed to place the episode in its proper context or make effective and judicious use of the available primary sources. This state of affairs is lamentable because Cane Hill was an important military engagement that had a significant impact on the course of the Civil War in the Trans-Mississippi. It brought the war to within thirty miles of the Arkansas River, damaged a vital center of culture and education, and precipitated the battle of Prairie Grove.1 The story of Cane Hill began in May 1862, when Maj. Gen. Thomas C. Hindman arrived in Arkansas with instructions to restore order, rebuild Confederate military fortunes, and recover Missouri. Hindman worked feverishly to accomplish these goals and soon felt confident enough to launch what proved to be an overly ambitious offensive from his base of operations at Fort Smith. In early September, he crossed the Boston Mountains at the head of an ill-equipped and ill-trained force of about six thousand men known as the Trans-Mississippi Army. Hindman encountered no opposition in northwest Arkansas and pushed into southwest Missouri, but at this critical moment he was called to Little Rock. His army continued on without him. The Union commander in Missouri, Brig. Gen. John M. Schofield, was caught off guard by the unexpected Confederate incursion, but he responded with great energy and quickly cobbled together a makeshift force called the Army of the Frontier. After several sharp engagements, most notably at Newtonia, the Federals gained the upper hand and drove the Confederates back into northwest Arkansas. When Hindman resumed command in mid-October, he recognized that his gamble had failed. He sparred with Schofield for a few weeks, then fell back across the Boston Mountains to Fort Smith.2 Schofield concluded that the immediate threat to Missouri was over and returned to Springfield with two of his three divisions. Another Confederate offensive seemed unlikely with winter approaching, but Schofield was wary of the resourceful and unpredictable Hindman. Just to be on the safe side, he directed the commander of his largest division, Brig. Gen. James G Blunt, to remain in northwest Arkansas and keep a close watch on the Rebels. Blunt was a stocky amateur soldier from Kansas who often wore a business suit instead of a uniform. He drank too much and had other personal shortcomings, but he was a bold, resolute, and intrepid commander who liked nothing better than leading soldiers into battle. His lack of pretense and love of action made him immensely popular with his men. Blunt jumped at the chance to operate independently in hostile territory, but he chafed at the defensive nature of his assignment, for he wa
1862年感恩节后的第二天，联邦和南方军队在阿肯色州西北部进行了长达8小时的激烈战斗，战斗持续了12英里。近年来，凯恩山战役吸引了历史学家的少量关注，但少数出版的报道未能将这一事件置于适当的背景中，也未能有效和明智地利用现有的原始资料。这种状况是可悲的，因为凯恩山战役是一场重要的军事交战，对跨密西西比地区的内战进程产生了重大影响。它把战争带到了距离阿肯色河不到30英里的地方，破坏了一个重要的文化和教育中心，并促成了普雷里格罗夫战役。坎恩山的故事始于1862年5月，当时托马斯·c·辛德曼少将抵达阿肯色州，奉命恢复秩序，重建南方联盟的军事力量，并收复密苏里。为了实现这些目标，欣德曼工作热情高涨，很快就有了足够的信心，从史密斯堡的作战基地发动了一场被证明过于雄心勃勃的攻势。9月初，他率领一支装备简陋、训练有素的6000人左右的跨密西西比军翻越了波士顿山脉。欣德曼在阿肯色州西北部没有遇到任何抵抗，他向密苏里西南部推进，但就在这个关键时刻，他被征召到小石城。他的军队在没有他的情况下继续前进。密苏里州的联邦指挥官约翰·m·斯科菲尔德准将(Brig. Gen. John M. Schofield)对南军的意外入侵感到措手不及，但他以极大的精力做出了反应，迅速组建了一支名为“边境军”(Army of The Frontier)的临时部队。经过几次激烈的交战，特别是在牛顿尼亚，联邦军占了上风，把联盟军赶回了阿肯色州西北部。10月中旬，当亨德曼重掌指挥权时，他意识到自己的赌博失败了。他与斯科菲尔德进行了几个星期的战斗，然后越过波士顿山脉撤退到史密斯堡。斯科菲尔德认为，对密苏里的直接威胁已经结束，于是带着他的三个师中的两个回到了斯普林菲尔德。随着冬天的临近，南方联盟的另一次进攻似乎不太可能了，但斯科菲尔德对足智多谋、捉摸不定的亨德曼很警惕。为了安全起见，他命令他最大的师的指挥官詹姆斯·G·布朗特准将留在阿肯色州西北部，密切监视起义军。布朗特是一名来自堪萨斯州的粗壮的业余军人，他经常穿西装而不是制服。他酗酒，还有其他个人缺点，但他是一个大胆、果断、勇敢的指挥官，他最喜欢的就是带领士兵们投入战斗。他不装腔作势，热爱行动，这使他深受部下的欢迎。布朗特欣然接受了在敌对地区独立作战的机会，但他对这项任务的防御性质感到恼火，因为他是联邦军中最好斗的军官之一。尽管如此，在接下来的几个星期里，他还是尽职尽责地按照斯科菲尔德的指示保持警惕，避免冒不必要的风险。11月中旬，布朗特和他的强大的堪萨斯师(之所以这么叫是因为它主要由来自堪萨斯州的志愿者组成)沿着本顿县西部的弗林特溪扎营，在今天的西罗亚斯普林斯以北不远的地方。在65英里以南的阿肯色河谷，亨德曼以新的热情工作，为他疲惫不堪的指挥部准备另一轮进攻行动，但他的努力受到严重粮食短缺的阻碍。1862年的夏天异常干燥，而秋天的收成是多年来最贫瘠的。由于阿肯色河的水位过低，使得从南部邦联其他地区运来补给变得困难，使得该地区的粮食短缺更加严重。得克萨斯第31骑兵团的乔治·w·格斯中校报告说，他的士兵“没有面包和饭吃”，只能“把玉米放在灰烬里当早餐吃”。…
{"title":"Prelude to Prairie Grove: Cane Hill, November 28, 1862","authors":"W. Shea","doi":"10.2307/40023655","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/40023655","url":null,"abstract":"ON THE DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING, 1 862, Union and Confederate forces clashed for eight hours in a spectacular twelve-mile running fight in northwest Arkansas. The battle of Cane Hill has attracted a modest amount of attention from historians in recent years, but the handful of published accounts have failed to place the episode in its proper context or make effective and judicious use of the available primary sources. This state of affairs is lamentable because Cane Hill was an important military engagement that had a significant impact on the course of the Civil War in the Trans-Mississippi. It brought the war to within thirty miles of the Arkansas River, damaged a vital center of culture and education, and precipitated the battle of Prairie Grove.1 The story of Cane Hill began in May 1862, when Maj. Gen. Thomas C. Hindman arrived in Arkansas with instructions to restore order, rebuild Confederate military fortunes, and recover Missouri. Hindman worked feverishly to accomplish these goals and soon felt confident enough to launch what proved to be an overly ambitious offensive from his base of operations at Fort Smith. In early September, he crossed the Boston Mountains at the head of an ill-equipped and ill-trained force of about six thousand men known as the Trans-Mississippi Army. Hindman encountered no opposition in northwest Arkansas and pushed into southwest Missouri, but at this critical moment he was called to Little Rock. His army continued on without him. The Union commander in Missouri, Brig. Gen. John M. Schofield, was caught off guard by the unexpected Confederate incursion, but he responded with great energy and quickly cobbled together a makeshift force called the Army of the Frontier. After several sharp engagements, most notably at Newtonia, the Federals gained the upper hand and drove the Confederates back into northwest Arkansas. When Hindman resumed command in mid-October, he recognized that his gamble had failed. He sparred with Schofield for a few weeks, then fell back across the Boston Mountains to Fort Smith.2 Schofield concluded that the immediate threat to Missouri was over and returned to Springfield with two of his three divisions. Another Confederate offensive seemed unlikely with winter approaching, but Schofield was wary of the resourceful and unpredictable Hindman. Just to be on the safe side, he directed the commander of his largest division, Brig. Gen. James G Blunt, to remain in northwest Arkansas and keep a close watch on the Rebels. Blunt was a stocky amateur soldier from Kansas who often wore a business suit instead of a uniform. He drank too much and had other personal shortcomings, but he was a bold, resolute, and intrepid commander who liked nothing better than leading soldiers into battle. His lack of pretense and love of action made him immensely popular with his men. Blunt jumped at the chance to operate independently in hostile territory, but he chafed at the defensive nature of his assignment, for he wa","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"63 1","pages":"353"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2004-12-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/40023655","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"68705091","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Blood of the Prophets: Brigham Young and the Massacre at Mountain Meadows. By Will Bagley. (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2002. Pp. xxiv, 493. Illustrations, maps, preface, acknowledgments, notes, bibliography, index. $39.95.) American Massacre: The Tragedy at Mountain Meadows, September 1857. By Sally Denton. (New York: Knopf, 2003. Pp. xxiii, 306. Author's note, map, illustrations, notes, bibliography, acknowledgments, index. $26.95.) At dawn on September 7, 1857, at Mountain Meadows, a valley about thirty-five miles from Cedar City in southern Utah, a party of Mormons assisted by Paiute Indians opened fire on the California-bound Baker-Fancher wagon train which had come from Arkansas. The Arkansans fended off the surprise attack and withstood a siege for five days during which they lost 15 men from their party of at least 137 people, three-fourths of whom were women and children. Long out of water and running low on ammunition, on September 11 they accepted the word of John D. Lee, leader of the Mormons, who claimed that the attackers were Indians and that he and his men could lead the travelers to safety if they would give up their arms and leave their wagons. Divided into groups of men, women and children, and wounded, they walked a mile or so before they were massacred. In a few awful moments of shooting and throat-cutting, the men were killed by Mormons walking next to them, and the women and children were slaughtered by whites and Indians who had come out of concealed positions. The attackers allowed seventeen children to survive, reasoning that they were too young to be reliable witnesses. One girl was later butchered, though, when her captors decided she was mature enough to give a convincing account. The normally competent Mormon pioneers provided only a slipshod burial. A settler from the area described the scene a few weeks after the massacre: "At one place I saw nineteen wolves pulling out the bodies and eating the flesh" (Bagley, p. 173). Eighteen months after that, there was still abundant evidence of what had taken place: "Human skeletons, disjointed bones, ghastly skulls and the hair of women were scattered in frightful profusion over a distance of two miles" (Bagley, p. 173). Some of the surviving children, who were taken in by Mormon families, watched as their hosts used equipment that had belonged to their families and wore their parents' clothing. Brigham Young, who was the territorial governor of Utah as well as the revered leader and prophet of the Church of Latter-day Saints, declared that the event was an Indian massacre, although there was much available evidence to the contrary. Few people outside Utah accepted that version of events. Various federal officials, in particular the courageous Judge John Cradelbaugh, investigated the massacre and attempted to prosecute a number of Mormons, but their fellow churchmen and citizens uniformly refused to cooperate. Not until 1871, when a participant who had left the chu
先知之血:杨百翰与梅多斯山大屠杀。威尔·巴格利著。(诺曼:俄克拉荷马大学出版社，2002。第24页，第493页。插图、地图、序言、致谢、注释、参考书目、索引。39.95美元)。美国大屠杀:草地山的悲剧，1857年9月。莎莉·丹顿著。(纽约:Knopf出版社，2003年)第23页，306页。作者注释，地图，插图，注释，参考书目，致谢，索引。26.95美元)。1857年9月7日黎明时分，在距离犹他州南部锡达城约35英里的山谷里，一群摩门教徒在派尤特印第安人的协助下，向从阿肯色州驶往加利福尼亚的贝克-范彻马车队开火。阿肯色人击退了突然袭击，并经受住了五天的围攻，在此期间，他们损失了至少137人中的15人，其中四分之三是妇女和儿童。9月11日，他们早已没有水喝，弹药也快用完了，于是接受了摩门教领袖约翰·d·李(John D. Lee)的话，他声称袭击者是印第安人，如果他们放下武器，放下马车，他和他的手下可以把旅行者带到安全的地方。他们被分成男人、女人、孩子和受伤的人，走了大约一英里就被屠杀了。在几个可怕的射击和割喉的时刻，男人被走在他们旁边的摩门教徒杀死，妇女和儿童被从隐蔽位置出来的白人和印第安人屠杀。袭击者允许17名儿童幸存，理由是他们太小，不能成为可靠的目击者。然而，后来有一个女孩被屠杀了，因为她的绑架者认为她已经足够成熟，可以给出令人信服的说法。通常能干的摩门教先驱们只提供了一个草率的葬礼。该地区的一名定居者在大屠杀发生几周后描述了当时的情景:“在一个地方，我看到19只狼把尸体拖出来吃肉”(Bagley，第173页)。18个月后，仍然有大量的证据表明发生了什么:“人类的骨骼，脱节的骨头，可怕的头骨和女人的头发散落在两英里远的地方”(Bagley，第173页)。一些幸存的孩子是被摩门教家庭收养的，他们看着主人使用原本属于他们家庭的设备，穿着父母的衣服。杨百翰(Brigham Young)是犹他州的地方长官，也是受人尊敬的末世圣徒教会(Church of Latter-day Saints)的领袖和先知，他宣称这是一起印第安人大屠杀，尽管有很多现成的证据与此相反。除了犹他州，很少有人接受这种说法。许多联邦官员，特别是勇敢的法官约翰·克拉德堡，调查了大屠杀，并试图起诉一些摩门教徒，但他们的教会和公民一致拒绝合作。直到1871年，当一个离开教会的参与者自愿忏悔时，政府才有所进展。约翰·d·李(John D. Lee)自1859年以来一直是一名逃避联邦逮捕令的逃犯，他的生活相当公开，曾两次被捕并受审，第一次以陪审团悬而未决的结果告终。他在第二次审判中被判有罪，因为杨与联邦检察官达成了一项非正式协议，不再提起进一步的起诉。李于1877年3月被处决。关于这些事件的最早可信的历史是胡安妮塔·布鲁克斯的《梅多斯山大屠杀》(1950)。她描述了犹他州定居者对美国政府的恐惧和仇恨，以及扬的行动和言论如何加剧了这种恐惧和仇恨，扬决心应对联邦政府对军事力量的干预。布鲁克斯明确表示，摩门教徒对所发生的一切负有责任，但她也接受了掩盖事实的说法，即阿肯色人以令人讨厌的威胁行为挑起了这次袭击，其中包括在一个水坑里投毒，杀死了一些印第安人。…
{"title":"Blood of the Prophets: Brigham Young and the Massacre at Mountain Meadows/American Massacre: The Tragedy at Mountain Meadows, September 1857","authors":"S. Bolton","doi":"10.2307/40038277","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/40038277","url":null,"abstract":"Blood of the Prophets: Brigham Young and the Massacre at Mountain Meadows. By Will Bagley. (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2002. Pp. xxiv, 493. Illustrations, maps, preface, acknowledgments, notes, bibliography, index. $39.95.) American Massacre: The Tragedy at Mountain Meadows, September 1857. By Sally Denton. (New York: Knopf, 2003. Pp. xxiii, 306. Author's note, map, illustrations, notes, bibliography, acknowledgments, index. $26.95.) At dawn on September 7, 1857, at Mountain Meadows, a valley about thirty-five miles from Cedar City in southern Utah, a party of Mormons assisted by Paiute Indians opened fire on the California-bound Baker-Fancher wagon train which had come from Arkansas. The Arkansans fended off the surprise attack and withstood a siege for five days during which they lost 15 men from their party of at least 137 people, three-fourths of whom were women and children. Long out of water and running low on ammunition, on September 11 they accepted the word of John D. Lee, leader of the Mormons, who claimed that the attackers were Indians and that he and his men could lead the travelers to safety if they would give up their arms and leave their wagons. Divided into groups of men, women and children, and wounded, they walked a mile or so before they were massacred. In a few awful moments of shooting and throat-cutting, the men were killed by Mormons walking next to them, and the women and children were slaughtered by whites and Indians who had come out of concealed positions. The attackers allowed seventeen children to survive, reasoning that they were too young to be reliable witnesses. One girl was later butchered, though, when her captors decided she was mature enough to give a convincing account. The normally competent Mormon pioneers provided only a slipshod burial. A settler from the area described the scene a few weeks after the massacre: \"At one place I saw nineteen wolves pulling out the bodies and eating the flesh\" (Bagley, p. 173). Eighteen months after that, there was still abundant evidence of what had taken place: \"Human skeletons, disjointed bones, ghastly skulls and the hair of women were scattered in frightful profusion over a distance of two miles\" (Bagley, p. 173). Some of the surviving children, who were taken in by Mormon families, watched as their hosts used equipment that had belonged to their families and wore their parents' clothing. Brigham Young, who was the territorial governor of Utah as well as the revered leader and prophet of the Church of Latter-day Saints, declared that the event was an Indian massacre, although there was much available evidence to the contrary. Few people outside Utah accepted that version of events. Various federal officials, in particular the courageous Judge John Cradelbaugh, investigated the massacre and attempted to prosecute a number of Mormons, but their fellow churchmen and citizens uniformly refused to cooperate. Not until 1871, when a participant who had left the chu","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"63 1","pages":"320"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2004-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/40038277","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"68754750","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
THE 1920s WITNESSED A DRAMATIC INCREASE in black businesses throughout the nation. The migration of rural blacks to northern and southern cities, combined with a new emphasis on "race pride" and selfhelp, led to this impressive rise in the numbers and types of businesses operated by African Americans. Timothy Bates, a scholar of black enterprise, calls the 1920s the "golden years for urban black business." Others, most notably E. Franklin Frazier, have labeled the story of black business success a "myth," however. Frazier contends that the growth of black business masked the poor condition of most African Americans in a segregated economy and that the black bourgeoisie employed the myth of success to sustain their own business interests and to assuage their feelings of inferiority to the white middle class.1 Unfortunately, the debate's focus on the national scene and the number of businesses in operation in the U.S. as a whole may obscure the realities of daily life for blacks in a particular location. Little Rock, Arkansas, might offer, therefore, a valuable test case. While the prominence of certain African-American enterprises and businessmen created the appearance of increasing prosperity among Little Rock's African Americans during the 1920s, a close examination suggests that there was not a substantial increase in the number of black-owned businesses over the course of the decade and that the economic condition of the typical black citizen remained quite bleak. For most of Little Rock's African-American community, there was little that was golden in the 1920s. Well before the 1920s, Little Rock's African-American leaders trumpeted the achievements of the businessmen and professionals in their community. In 1898, African-American physician D. B. Gaines wrote Racial Possibilities as Indicated by the Negroes of Arkansas, which emphasized the opportunities blacks enjoyed for success in Little Rock. He profiled the city's leading businessmen, ministers, educators, "men of means," lawyers, and doctors, along with its churches and colleges. He also included a "colored business directory" and "colored church directory." In Little Rock and Argenta (now known as North Little Rock), he found twenty-nine barbers, ten blacksmiths, fifteen shoe repairmen, twenty-six grocers, six lawyers, five doctors, a dentist, a druggist, and an undertaker, along with assorted black-owned restaurants, hotels, newspapers, wood and coal yards, tailors, confectioners, and jewelers. These businesses not only catered to the black community, Gaines said, but enjoyed "a very extensive trade from the white citizens." Gaines paid particular attention to J. W. Walker, whose grocery store enjoyed the "liberal patronage of many of the best white citizens," and J. H. Smith, a dentist with a "large and lucrative practice among the wealthy white class."2 Writing almost a decade after Gaines, E. M. Woods, in his 1907 Blue Book of Little Rock and Argenta, Arkansas, also praised what he
20世纪20年代见证了全国黑人企业的急剧增长。农村黑人向北部和南部城市的迁移，加上对“种族自豪感”和自助的新重视，导致了非洲裔美国人经营的企业数量和类型的显著增加。研究黑人企业的学者蒂莫西·贝茨把20世纪20年代称为“城市黑人企业的黄金年代”。然而，以富兰克林·弗雷泽(E. Franklin Frazier)为首的其他人则将黑人商业成功的故事称为“神话”。弗雷泽认为，黑人商业的增长掩盖了大多数非洲裔美国人在种族隔离经济中的贫困状况，黑人资产阶级利用成功的神话来维持自己的商业利益，并减轻他们对白人中产阶级的自卑感不幸的是，辩论的焦点集中在全国范围内，以及在整个美国经营的企业数量，这可能会掩盖特定地区黑人日常生活的现实。因此，阿肯色州的小石城可能会提供一个有价值的测试案例。虽然某些非裔美国人企业和商人的突出表现使小石城的非裔美国人在20世纪20年代日益繁荣，但仔细研究表明，在这十年中，黑人拥有的企业数量并没有实质性的增加，而且典型黑人公民的经济状况仍然相当黯淡。对小石城的大多数非裔美国人社区来说，20世纪20年代几乎没有什么黄金。早在20世纪20年代之前，小石城的非裔美国领导人就在鼓吹他们社区的商人和专业人士所取得的成就。1898年，非裔美国医生D. B.盖恩斯撰写了《阿肯色州黑人的种族可能性》一书，强调了黑人在小石城获得成功的机会。他介绍了这座城市的主要商人、部长、教育家、“有钱人”、律师和医生，以及它的教堂和大学。他还包括了“有色人种商业名录”和“有色人种教堂名录”。在小石城和阿根廷(现在被称为北小石城)，他发现了29个理发师、10个铁匠、15个修鞋匠、26个杂货商、6个律师、5个医生、1个牙医、1个药剂师和1个殡仪馆，以及各种各样的黑人开的餐馆、旅馆、报纸、木材和煤炭场、裁缝店、糖果店和珠宝店。盖恩斯说，这些企业不仅迎合了黑人社区的需求，而且“从白人公民那里获得了非常广泛的贸易”。盖恩斯特别关注了j·w·沃克(J. W. Walker)和j·h·史密斯(J. H. Smith)，前者的杂货店得到了“许多最优秀的白人公民的慷慨赞助”，后者是一位牙医，“在富有的白人阶层中拥有大量利润丰厚的业务”。在盖恩斯之后将近十年，e·m·伍兹在他1907年出版的关于阿肯色州小石城和阿根廷的蓝皮书中，也称赞了他认为是小石城充满活力的非裔美国人商业社区。伍兹描述了小石城和阿根廷的98个“主要的、精力充沛的、有才华的或节俭的黑人”。伍兹还统计了大小石城黑人社区的六家报纸、四所大学、三十七所教堂和一家银行小石城的非裔美国商人甚至引起了全国的关注。布克·t·华盛顿(Booker T. Washington)在1907年出版的《黑人经商》(The Negro in Business)一书中专门用一章讲述了小石城的成功故事。他对自己的朋友——首都储蓄银行总裁m·w·吉布斯(M. W. Gibbs)和美国马赛克圣殿骑士团(Mosaic Templars of America)创始人约翰·e·布什(John E. Bush)给予了最高的赞扬。美国马赛克圣殿骑士团是一个兄弟般的慈善组织，为全国2万名成员提供丧葬保险。布什和吉布斯依靠的不仅仅是简单的商业头脑。两人都利用与共和党领导人的关系来推进自己的事业。布什曾是一名铁路邮政职员，曾担任U. ...的收信人
{"title":"Mirage and Reality: Economic Conditions in Black Little Rock in the 1920s","authors":"Gene Vinzant","doi":"10.2307/40038273","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/40038273","url":null,"abstract":"THE 1920s WITNESSED A DRAMATIC INCREASE in black businesses throughout the nation. The migration of rural blacks to northern and southern cities, combined with a new emphasis on \"race pride\" and selfhelp, led to this impressive rise in the numbers and types of businesses operated by African Americans. Timothy Bates, a scholar of black enterprise, calls the 1920s the \"golden years for urban black business.\" Others, most notably E. Franklin Frazier, have labeled the story of black business success a \"myth,\" however. Frazier contends that the growth of black business masked the poor condition of most African Americans in a segregated economy and that the black bourgeoisie employed the myth of success to sustain their own business interests and to assuage their feelings of inferiority to the white middle class.1 Unfortunately, the debate's focus on the national scene and the number of businesses in operation in the U.S. as a whole may obscure the realities of daily life for blacks in a particular location. Little Rock, Arkansas, might offer, therefore, a valuable test case. While the prominence of certain African-American enterprises and businessmen created the appearance of increasing prosperity among Little Rock's African Americans during the 1920s, a close examination suggests that there was not a substantial increase in the number of black-owned businesses over the course of the decade and that the economic condition of the typical black citizen remained quite bleak. For most of Little Rock's African-American community, there was little that was golden in the 1920s. Well before the 1920s, Little Rock's African-American leaders trumpeted the achievements of the businessmen and professionals in their community. In 1898, African-American physician D. B. Gaines wrote Racial Possibilities as Indicated by the Negroes of Arkansas, which emphasized the opportunities blacks enjoyed for success in Little Rock. He profiled the city's leading businessmen, ministers, educators, \"men of means,\" lawyers, and doctors, along with its churches and colleges. He also included a \"colored business directory\" and \"colored church directory.\" In Little Rock and Argenta (now known as North Little Rock), he found twenty-nine barbers, ten blacksmiths, fifteen shoe repairmen, twenty-six grocers, six lawyers, five doctors, a dentist, a druggist, and an undertaker, along with assorted black-owned restaurants, hotels, newspapers, wood and coal yards, tailors, confectioners, and jewelers. These businesses not only catered to the black community, Gaines said, but enjoyed \"a very extensive trade from the white citizens.\" Gaines paid particular attention to J. W. Walker, whose grocery store enjoyed the \"liberal patronage of many of the best white citizens,\" and J. H. Smith, a dentist with a \"large and lucrative practice among the wealthy white class.\"2 Writing almost a decade after Gaines, E. M. Woods, in his 1907 Blue Book of Little Rock and Argenta, Arkansas, also praised what he","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"63 1","pages":"261"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2004-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.2307/40038273","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"68755123","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Marion Butler and American Populism. By James L. Hunt. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003. Pp. xiii, 338. Acknowledgments, introduction, illustrations, notes, bibliography, index. $49.95.) The Peoples' (or Populist) party was one of the most significant third-party movements in American history, and Marion Butler served as national chairman during its climactic years. Opinions about his role certainly vary, but for better or worse, he was an important figure. Until now, however, he has lacked a biography. James L. Hunt has corrected this deficiency with a solid and thorough account of Butler's life. Hunt notes in his introduction that he harbors little sympathy for Butler either personally or politically, but his overall objective is to rescue his subject from the dominant portrayal, articulated most influentially by C. Vann Woodward and Lawrence Goodwyn, of a shifty opportunist out of step with true and principled Populism. Hunt traces Butler's rise from his political beginnings as a rural schoolteacher in Sampson County, North Carolina. There he became a locally prominent Alliance man, Democrat, and editor of the weekly Caucasian, who, at the age of twenty-eight, dominated the proceedings of the "Alliance legislature" of 1891. A reluctant convert to the Peoples' party in 1892, Butler nevertheless filled the vacuum created by the sudden death of L. L. Polk and soon dominated the state organization. By 1896, he was national chairman. Hunt judiciously recounts Butler's trials as he attempted to hold the party together during the contentious 1896 campaign, earning enduring enemies in the process. As the Populist movement deteriorated amid bitter recriminations after 1896, Butler remained a central figure both nationally and in North Carolina. Having reluctantly led the North Carolina Populists into unwieldy coalitions with the Republicans in 1894 and 1896 (he always preferred working with the Democrats), he would wage a rearguard action against the resurgent Redeemers, opposing their disfranchising amendment in 1900 on the grounds that there existed no threat of "negro domination" and proposing instead a bar to black officeholding. With the demise of Populism, Butler gravitated toward the Progressive wing of the Republican party, formally joining in 1904. There he remained for the rest of his life, waging a quixotic struggle to bend the party toward the Omaha platform. Hunt argues that the Omaha platform, with its demands for nationalization of the railroads and telegraph, the subtreasury, greenbacks, and the free coinage of silver, among others, became Butler's political anchor. …
马里昂·巴特勒与美国民粹主义。詹姆斯·l·亨特著。教堂山:北卡罗来纳大学出版社，2003。第十三页，338页。致谢、引言、插图、注释、参考书目、索引。49.95美元)。人民党是美国历史上最重要的第三党运动之一，马里昂·巴特勒在该党的高潮时期担任全国主席。人们对他的角色当然有不同的看法，但无论好坏，他都是一个重要的人物。然而，直到现在，他还没有一本传记。詹姆斯·l·亨特(James L. Hunt)对巴特勒的生活进行了扎实而全面的描述，弥补了这一缺陷。亨特在前言中指出，无论在个人还是政治上，他对巴特勒都没有多少同情，但他的总体目标是将他的主题从c·范恩·伍德沃德和劳伦斯·古德温的主流形象中拯救出来，后者是一个狡猾的机会主义者，与真正有原则的民粹主义脱节。亨特追溯了巴特勒的政治生涯，他最初是北卡罗来纳州桑普森县的一名乡村教师。在那里，他成了当地著名的联盟成员、民主党人和《高加索人》周刊的编辑。他在28岁时就主导了1891年“联盟立法机构”的议事程序。1892年，巴特勒不情愿地加入了人民党，然而，他填补了波尔克突然去世造成的真空，并很快控制了国家组织。到1896年，他成为全国主席。亨特审慎地叙述了巴特勒在1896年有争议的竞选中试图团结民主党的经历，在这个过程中，他赢得了长久的敌人。1896年后，随着民粹主义运动在激烈的相互指责中恶化，巴特勒仍然是全国和北卡罗来纳州的核心人物。1894年和1896年，他不情愿地领导北卡罗来纳民粹主义者与共和党人结成了难以处理的联盟(他总是更喜欢与民主党人合作)，他将对复活的救赎者党发起后卫行动，反对他们在1900年剥夺公民权的修正案，理由是不存在“黑人统治”的威胁，并建议禁止黑人担任公职。随着民粹主义的消亡，巴特勒转向共和党的进步派，于1904年正式加入。他在那里度过了余生，发动了一场堂吉诃德式的斗争，让共和党向奥马哈的纲领靠拢。亨特认为，奥马哈纲领要求将铁路和电报、副国库、美元和银币的自由铸造等国有化，这些都成为了巴特勒的政治支柱。．．．
{"title":"Marion Butler and American Populism","authors":"Craig Thurtell","doi":"10.5860/choice.41-2381","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.41-2381","url":null,"abstract":"Marion Butler and American Populism. By James L. Hunt. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003. Pp. xiii, 338. Acknowledgments, introduction, illustrations, notes, bibliography, index. $49.95.) The Peoples' (or Populist) party was one of the most significant third-party movements in American history, and Marion Butler served as national chairman during its climactic years. Opinions about his role certainly vary, but for better or worse, he was an important figure. Until now, however, he has lacked a biography. James L. Hunt has corrected this deficiency with a solid and thorough account of Butler's life. Hunt notes in his introduction that he harbors little sympathy for Butler either personally or politically, but his overall objective is to rescue his subject from the dominant portrayal, articulated most influentially by C. Vann Woodward and Lawrence Goodwyn, of a shifty opportunist out of step with true and principled Populism. Hunt traces Butler's rise from his political beginnings as a rural schoolteacher in Sampson County, North Carolina. There he became a locally prominent Alliance man, Democrat, and editor of the weekly Caucasian, who, at the age of twenty-eight, dominated the proceedings of the \"Alliance legislature\" of 1891. A reluctant convert to the Peoples' party in 1892, Butler nevertheless filled the vacuum created by the sudden death of L. L. Polk and soon dominated the state organization. By 1896, he was national chairman. Hunt judiciously recounts Butler's trials as he attempted to hold the party together during the contentious 1896 campaign, earning enduring enemies in the process. As the Populist movement deteriorated amid bitter recriminations after 1896, Butler remained a central figure both nationally and in North Carolina. Having reluctantly led the North Carolina Populists into unwieldy coalitions with the Republicans in 1894 and 1896 (he always preferred working with the Democrats), he would wage a rearguard action against the resurgent Redeemers, opposing their disfranchising amendment in 1900 on the grounds that there existed no threat of \"negro domination\" and proposing instead a bar to black officeholding. With the demise of Populism, Butler gravitated toward the Progressive wing of the Republican party, formally joining in 1904. There he remained for the rest of his life, waging a quixotic struggle to bend the party toward the Omaha platform. Hunt argues that the Omaha platform, with its demands for nationalization of the railroads and telegraph, the subtreasury, greenbacks, and the free coinage of silver, among others, became Butler's political anchor. …","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"63 1","pages":"209"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2004-07-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71098841","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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