THE FIRST AFRICAN-AMERICAN STUDENT ADMITTED to the University of Arkansas after Reconstruction was Silas H. Hunt, who enrolled at the School of Law in January 1948. That simple fact, and the university's story of how this early instance of desegregation was achieved, have been related in prior articles and books.1 Less well-known to students of civil rights or Arkansas history are the stories of some other African-American pioneers-one who preceded Silas Hunt in challenging segregation at the law school and the five who quickly followed in Hunt's footsteps. By admitting Silas Hunt, the University of Arkansas intended to forestall a suit. Robert A. Leflar, the dean who admitted Hunt, was concerned that the university's reputation and relations between African-American and white Arkansans would be harmed by such a suit.2 The United States Supreme Court had decided in 1938 that, in the absence of a state-supported black law school, the University of Missouri must admit an African American, Lloyd Gaines, to its School of Law.3 Two other suits, against the University of Oklahoma School of Law and the University of Texas School of Law, were in progress. Leflar's concerns were valid, then, since Arkansas, too, lacked a black law school.4 All three cases had been brought by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) as part of its attack on the "separate but equal" doctrine established in 1896 by the Supreme Court in Plessy v. Ferguson.5 Leflar had to convince the university's board of trustees, its incoming president, and Arkansas governor Ben Laney that desegregation, at least at the graduate level, was inevitable. His argument succeeded, but it depended on the school maintaining a form of internal segregation. African- American students would be taught in a separate classroom, work in a separate study room, and not have direct access to the library or use of the school's student bathrooms. As much as possible, the rituals of segregation would apply.6 On January 30, 1948, the University of Arkansas announced it would admit "qualified Negro graduate students."7 But it was not Silas Hunt as much as L. Clifford Davis who prompted this action. The announcement stated that Davis, a young man who had repeatedly attempted to enroll at the school, would be admitted if he appeared on the first day of classes. L. Clifford Davis had been born in Wilton, Arkansas, on October 12, 1924, the youngest of seven children born to Augustus and Dora Duckett Davis. The Davises were farmers, owning their own land and renting additional acreage from other landowners. Despite the fact that neither parent had been able to obtain much education, they strongly encouraged their children to continue in school. Wilton, in Little River County in southwestern Arkansas, provided public schooling only through the eighth grade for African Americans, but the Davises sent all their children to Little Rock to attend Dunbar High School. With the help of a relative
重建后,第一位被阿肯色大学录取的非裔美国学生是塞拉斯·h·亨特,他于1948年1月被法学院录取。这个简单的事实,以及这所大学是如何实现早期废除种族隔离的故事,在以前的文章和书籍中都有涉及研究民权或阿肯色州历史的学生不太了解其他一些非裔美国先驱的故事——一位在塞拉斯·亨特之前在法学院挑战种族隔离制度,另外五位很快追随亨特的脚步。阿肯色大学录取塞拉斯·亨特是为了防止诉讼的发生。录取亨特的院长罗伯特·a·莱弗拉(Robert a . Leflar)担心,这样的诉讼会损害学校的声誉以及阿肯色非裔美国人和白人之间的关系1938年,美国最高法院裁定,由于没有国家支持的黑人法学院,密苏里大学必须招收一名非洲裔美国人劳埃德·盖恩斯进入其法学院。另外两起针对俄克拉荷马大学法学院和德克萨斯大学法学院的诉讼正在进行中。Leflar的担心是有道理的,因为阿肯色州也没有黑人法学院这三起案件都是由全国有色人种协进会(NAACP)提起的,作为对1896年最高法院在普莱西诉弗格森案中确立的“隔离但平等”原则的攻击的一部分。莱弗拉尔必须说服大学董事会、即将上任的校长和阿肯色州州长本·兰尼,至少在研究生阶段,废除种族隔离是不可避免的。他的论点成功了,但这取决于学校是否保持某种形式的内部隔离。非裔美国学生将在单独的教室上课,在单独的自习室学习,不能直接进入图书馆或使用学校的学生浴室。种族隔离的仪式将尽可能地适用1948年1月30日,阿肯色大学宣布招收“合格的黑人研究生”。但促成这一行动的与其说是塞拉斯·亨特,不如说是l·克利福德·戴维斯。公告称,屡次试图入学的年轻人戴维斯如果在第一天上课时出现,就会被录取。L.克利福德·戴维斯于1924年10月12日出生在阿肯色州的威尔顿,是奥古斯都和多拉·达克特·戴维斯夫妇所生的七个孩子中最小的一个。戴维斯一家是农民,拥有自己的土地,并从其他土地所有者那里租用额外的土地。尽管父母都没有受过多少教育,但他们还是强烈鼓励孩子们继续上学。位于阿肯色州西南部小河县的威尔顿,只为非裔美国人提供八年级以上的公立学校教育,但戴维斯一家却把他们所有的孩子都送到小石城的邓巴高中上学。在一位亲戚的帮助下,大儿子l.g.在邓巴就读期间与朋友住在一起。第二个孩子日内瓦也有类似的安排。1939年,克利福德准备上高中的时候,家里在小石城租了一所房子(后来他们买了),兄弟姐妹轮流住在一起,上高中、大学或上培训学校。他们的成长经历让孩子们在没有父母陪伴的情况下生活,也不会惹上麻烦。大一点的孩子照看小一点的。他们都很认真地想要尽可能多地接受教育1942年,高中毕业后,克利福德·戴维斯进入了小石城的一所私立学校菲兰德·史密斯学院。戴维斯工作以支付他的大学费用,并继续住在家里。他于1945年毕业。在菲兰德大学期间,戴维斯受到小石城律师西皮奥·a·琼斯和j·r·布克的启发,开始考虑从事法律职业。由于阿肯色大学不招收非裔美国学生,他利用1943年的一项州法律,该法律为那些希望进入研究生院的非裔美国人提供学费补助,这些研究生院在派恩布Bluff的阿肯色农业机械与师范学院(AM&N)没有教授。唯一一所向阿肯色州黑人开放的州立高等教育机构。…
{"title":"Desegregating the University of Arkansas School of Law: L. Clifford Davis and the Six Pioneers","authors":"J. Kilpatrick","doi":"10.2307/j.ctt1ffjmrt.8","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt1ffjmrt.8","url":null,"abstract":"THE FIRST AFRICAN-AMERICAN STUDENT ADMITTED to the University of Arkansas after Reconstruction was Silas H. Hunt, who enrolled at the School of Law in January 1948. That simple fact, and the university's story of how this early instance of desegregation was achieved, have been related in prior articles and books.1 Less well-known to students of civil rights or Arkansas history are the stories of some other African-American pioneers-one who preceded Silas Hunt in challenging segregation at the law school and the five who quickly followed in Hunt's footsteps. By admitting Silas Hunt, the University of Arkansas intended to forestall a suit. Robert A. Leflar, the dean who admitted Hunt, was concerned that the university's reputation and relations between African-American and white Arkansans would be harmed by such a suit.2 The United States Supreme Court had decided in 1938 that, in the absence of a state-supported black law school, the University of Missouri must admit an African American, Lloyd Gaines, to its School of Law.3 Two other suits, against the University of Oklahoma School of Law and the University of Texas School of Law, were in progress. Leflar's concerns were valid, then, since Arkansas, too, lacked a black law school.4 All three cases had been brought by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) as part of its attack on the \"separate but equal\" doctrine established in 1896 by the Supreme Court in Plessy v. Ferguson.5 Leflar had to convince the university's board of trustees, its incoming president, and Arkansas governor Ben Laney that desegregation, at least at the graduate level, was inevitable. His argument succeeded, but it depended on the school maintaining a form of internal segregation. African- American students would be taught in a separate classroom, work in a separate study room, and not have direct access to the library or use of the school's student bathrooms. As much as possible, the rituals of segregation would apply.6 On January 30, 1948, the University of Arkansas announced it would admit \"qualified Negro graduate students.\"7 But it was not Silas Hunt as much as L. Clifford Davis who prompted this action. The announcement stated that Davis, a young man who had repeatedly attempted to enroll at the school, would be admitted if he appeared on the first day of classes. L. Clifford Davis had been born in Wilton, Arkansas, on October 12, 1924, the youngest of seven children born to Augustus and Dora Duckett Davis. The Davises were farmers, owning their own land and renting additional acreage from other landowners. Despite the fact that neither parent had been able to obtain much education, they strongly encouraged their children to continue in school. Wilton, in Little River County in southwestern Arkansas, provided public schooling only through the eighth grade for African Americans, but the Davises sent all their children to Little Rock to attend Dunbar High School. With the help of a relative","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"68 1","pages":"123"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2009-07-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"68717460","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}
In Search of the Blues. By Marybeth Hamilton. (New York: Basic Books, 2008. Pp. 309. Illustrations, acknowledgments, notes, index. $24.95.) The primary attention of Marybeth Hamilton's In Search of the Blues is directed not to blues or to blues musicians but to those twentieth-century collectors and enthusiasts whose researches shaped subsequent appreciation and understanding of the music and its makers. The "stars" of Hamilton's book are for the most part figures known to students of American music-Howard Odum, Dorothy Scarborough, John and Alan Lomax, Frederic Ramsey, and Samuel Charters. But in this study the researches into blues of all but John Lomax are accorded a more sustained examination than anything available in prior scholarship, and the whole group is linked by what Hamilton calls "an emotional attachment to racial difference" (p. 22), a "sense of awe at the strangeness and singularity of the black voice" (p. 20). (The elder Lomax's life and career are carefully and judiciously examined in Nolan Porterfield's 1996 biography [reviewed in AHQ 57: 356-358].) The resulting analyses have several strengths and weaknesses, but In Search of the Blues earns praise first of all for its painstaking and groundbreaking attention to the researchers themselves. Hamilton's study follows a generally chronological order, opening with the pioneering work of Odum, who made his initial recordings in 1907, more than a decade before the release of the first commercial blues recording, and the blues researches of Scarborough, who to this point has been more appreciated for her collecting of Anglo-American ballads. In both instances, Hamilton's accounts are based on extensive reading in unpublished papers (Odum's at the University of North Carolina, Scarborough's at Baylor). Her extended discussion of Frederic Ramsey and his friends-Hamilton calls them "the Jazzmen cohort" from the title of a 1939 book Ramsey edited with Charles Edward Smith-is another highlight, as are the briefer treatments of Samuel Charters and the self-styled "Blues Mafia" gathered around the obscure figure of James McKune (p. 167). For all her careful research, though, Hamilton's writing is surprisingly impressionistic, typically introducing each section by recreating a pivotal or climactic moment. Scarborough is introduced witnessing a 1921 banjo and dance performance by John Allan Wyeth, a white Confederate veteran whose nostalgias leave her, she reports, "transported to an old plantation of days before the War" (p. 60). John Lomax, for his part, appears as "a portly white man in a Stetson hat" driving up to the gates of the Louisiana penitentiary at Angola in 1933, his momentous encounter with Huddie Ledbetter just ahead (p. 92). Ramsey is pictured with two friends in the late 1930s, climbing the stairs of a rundown Washington, D.C., building to a dingy nightclub called the Jungle Inn. At the bar, mixing a drink for a customer, is Jelly Roll Morton. Each of these accounts is vividly
{"title":"In Search of the Blues","authors":"Robert W. Cochran","doi":"10.5860/choice.45-6685","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.45-6685","url":null,"abstract":"In Search of the Blues. By Marybeth Hamilton. (New York: Basic Books, 2008. Pp. 309. Illustrations, acknowledgments, notes, index. $24.95.) The primary attention of Marybeth Hamilton's In Search of the Blues is directed not to blues or to blues musicians but to those twentieth-century collectors and enthusiasts whose researches shaped subsequent appreciation and understanding of the music and its makers. The \"stars\" of Hamilton's book are for the most part figures known to students of American music-Howard Odum, Dorothy Scarborough, John and Alan Lomax, Frederic Ramsey, and Samuel Charters. But in this study the researches into blues of all but John Lomax are accorded a more sustained examination than anything available in prior scholarship, and the whole group is linked by what Hamilton calls \"an emotional attachment to racial difference\" (p. 22), a \"sense of awe at the strangeness and singularity of the black voice\" (p. 20). (The elder Lomax's life and career are carefully and judiciously examined in Nolan Porterfield's 1996 biography [reviewed in AHQ 57: 356-358].) The resulting analyses have several strengths and weaknesses, but In Search of the Blues earns praise first of all for its painstaking and groundbreaking attention to the researchers themselves. Hamilton's study follows a generally chronological order, opening with the pioneering work of Odum, who made his initial recordings in 1907, more than a decade before the release of the first commercial blues recording, and the blues researches of Scarborough, who to this point has been more appreciated for her collecting of Anglo-American ballads. In both instances, Hamilton's accounts are based on extensive reading in unpublished papers (Odum's at the University of North Carolina, Scarborough's at Baylor). Her extended discussion of Frederic Ramsey and his friends-Hamilton calls them \"the Jazzmen cohort\" from the title of a 1939 book Ramsey edited with Charles Edward Smith-is another highlight, as are the briefer treatments of Samuel Charters and the self-styled \"Blues Mafia\" gathered around the obscure figure of James McKune (p. 167). For all her careful research, though, Hamilton's writing is surprisingly impressionistic, typically introducing each section by recreating a pivotal or climactic moment. Scarborough is introduced witnessing a 1921 banjo and dance performance by John Allan Wyeth, a white Confederate veteran whose nostalgias leave her, she reports, \"transported to an old plantation of days before the War\" (p. 60). John Lomax, for his part, appears as \"a portly white man in a Stetson hat\" driving up to the gates of the Louisiana penitentiary at Angola in 1933, his momentous encounter with Huddie Ledbetter just ahead (p. 92). Ramsey is pictured with two friends in the late 1930s, climbing the stairs of a rundown Washington, D.C., building to a dingy nightclub called the Jungle Inn. At the bar, mixing a drink for a customer, is Jelly Roll Morton. Each of these accounts is vividly","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"68 1","pages":"108"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2009-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71121146","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}
Daisy Bates: Civil Rights Crusader from Arkansas. By Grif Stockley. (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2005. Pp. x, 340. Acknowledgments, illustrations, notes, index. $30.00.) In Daisy Bates: Civil Rights Crusader from Arkansas, Grif Stockley paints a picture of a deeply flawed woman who led the NAACP in Arkansas during the crucial years of the Little Rock school desegregation crisis. A person whose origins remain cloaked in obscurity, Daisy Bates presented herself to the public both as a civil rights heroine and as a woman whose family life exemplified conventional mores. In fact, her relationship with her husband, L. C. Bates, departed from those norms in significant ways, and her success as a leader in 1950s Little Rock depended more on the efforts of others than she was willing to admit. Stockley's research into Bates' early years reveals a woman whose parents' names and fates are hard to determine. The story of her mother's murder that she related in her 1962 autobiography (The Long Shadow of Little Rock: A Memoir) proved impossible to confirm with public records. Similarly, her accounts of her early relationship with her husband leave out the fact that he remained married to another woman for several years after the initiation of their relationship. Her motives in entering into that relationship remain obscure, though it is clear that L. C. enabled her to get out of the poverty and hopelessness that a life in Huttig, Arkansas, would have meant for a poorly educated African-American woman of her generation. In the early 1960s, Daisy Bates left for New York City, where she stayed for some time. Thereafter, she and L. C. divorced, each accusing the other of infidelity, and then remarried. Though Stockley acknowledges that Bates' opponents would have used information about her private life against her, he does not adequately place her life in the context of African-American women's history. As historian Darlene Clark Hine has noted, the sexual vilification and exploitation of black women has been so systematic and damaging in American history that they have developed a "culture of dissemblance" to preserve some measure of personal privacy and credibility for their public actions ["Rape and the Inner Lives of Black Women" in Women's America: Refocusing the Past, ed. Linda K. Kerber and Jane Sherron De Hart (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004)]. Stockley's failure to acknowledge this context makes his personal revelations about her appear almost prurient. A woman whose public confidence masked a considerable insecurity, Bates often overstated her role in the civil rights conflicts in these years. In fact, the most significant contribution of Stockley's biography is its illumination of contributions of many actors, most of them African Americans, to the civil rights struggle in Little Rock in the 1950s. …
黛西·贝茨:来自阿肯色州的民权斗士。格里夫·斯托克利著。杰克逊:密西西比大学出版社,2005年。页十,340。致谢、插图、注释、索引。30.00美元)。在《黛西·贝茨:来自阿肯色州的民权斗士》一书中,格里夫·斯托克利描绘了一个有严重缺陷的女人,她在小石城学校废除种族隔离危机的关键时期领导了阿肯色州的全国有色人种协进会。黛西·贝茨(Daisy Bates)的身世至今仍不为人知,但她在公众面前既是一位民权女英雄,又是一位家庭生活体现传统习俗的女性。事实上,她与丈夫l·c·贝茨(L. C. Bates)的关系在很大程度上偏离了这些规范,而她在20世纪50年代作为小石城领袖的成功更多地依赖于其他人的努力,而她不愿承认。斯托克利对贝茨早年生活的研究揭示了一个难以确定她父母姓名和命运的女人。她在1962年的自传《小石城的长影:回忆录》中讲述了她母亲被谋杀的故事,但事实证明,这一故事无法得到公开记录的证实。同样,她对她与丈夫早期关系的描述也忽略了这样一个事实,即在他们开始关系之后,他与另一个女人结婚了好几年。她进入这段关系的动机尚不清楚,但很明显,L. C.使她摆脱了阿肯色州哈蒂格(Huttig)的贫困和绝望,对于她那一代受教育程度很低的非洲裔美国女性来说,这种生活意味着贫穷和绝望。20世纪60年代初,黛西·贝茨(Daisy Bates)前往纽约市,在那里住了一段时间。此后,她和l.c.离婚了,两人都指责对方不忠,然后又再婚了。尽管斯托克利承认贝茨的反对者会利用她的私生活来对付她,但他并没有把她的生活充分地放在非裔美国妇女的历史背景中。正如历史学家达琳·克拉克·海因(Darlene Clark Hine)所指出的那样,对黑人女性的性诽谤和性剥削在美国历史上是如此系统性和破坏性,以至于她们已经发展出一种“掩饰文化”,以在一定程度上保护她们的个人隐私和公共行为的可信度[《强奸和黑人女性的内心生活》,《美国女性:重新聚焦过去》,琳达·k·克尔伯(Linda K. Kerber)和简·谢伦·德哈特(Jane Sherron De Hart)主编,纽约:牛津大学出版社,2004)]。斯托克利没有承认这一背景,这使得他对她的个人披露显得近乎淫秽。贝茨在公众面前的自信掩盖了她相当大的不安全感,她经常夸大自己在这些年民权斗争中的作用。事实上,斯托克利的传记最重要的贡献是它阐明了许多演员的贡献,其中大多数是非洲裔美国人,在20世纪50年代的小石城的民权斗争。…
{"title":"Daisy Bates: Civil Rights Crusader from Arkansas","authors":"Karen L. Anderson","doi":"10.5860/choice.44-1732","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.44-1732","url":null,"abstract":"Daisy Bates: Civil Rights Crusader from Arkansas. By Grif Stockley. (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2005. Pp. x, 340. Acknowledgments, illustrations, notes, index. $30.00.) In Daisy Bates: Civil Rights Crusader from Arkansas, Grif Stockley paints a picture of a deeply flawed woman who led the NAACP in Arkansas during the crucial years of the Little Rock school desegregation crisis. A person whose origins remain cloaked in obscurity, Daisy Bates presented herself to the public both as a civil rights heroine and as a woman whose family life exemplified conventional mores. In fact, her relationship with her husband, L. C. Bates, departed from those norms in significant ways, and her success as a leader in 1950s Little Rock depended more on the efforts of others than she was willing to admit. Stockley's research into Bates' early years reveals a woman whose parents' names and fates are hard to determine. The story of her mother's murder that she related in her 1962 autobiography (The Long Shadow of Little Rock: A Memoir) proved impossible to confirm with public records. Similarly, her accounts of her early relationship with her husband leave out the fact that he remained married to another woman for several years after the initiation of their relationship. Her motives in entering into that relationship remain obscure, though it is clear that L. C. enabled her to get out of the poverty and hopelessness that a life in Huttig, Arkansas, would have meant for a poorly educated African-American woman of her generation. In the early 1960s, Daisy Bates left for New York City, where she stayed for some time. Thereafter, she and L. C. divorced, each accusing the other of infidelity, and then remarried. Though Stockley acknowledges that Bates' opponents would have used information about her private life against her, he does not adequately place her life in the context of African-American women's history. As historian Darlene Clark Hine has noted, the sexual vilification and exploitation of black women has been so systematic and damaging in American history that they have developed a \"culture of dissemblance\" to preserve some measure of personal privacy and credibility for their public actions [\"Rape and the Inner Lives of Black Women\" in Women's America: Refocusing the Past, ed. Linda K. Kerber and Jane Sherron De Hart (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004)]. Stockley's failure to acknowledge this context makes his personal revelations about her appear almost prurient. A woman whose public confidence masked a considerable insecurity, Bates often overstated her role in the civil rights conflicts in these years. In fact, the most significant contribution of Stockley's biography is its illumination of contributions of many actors, most of them African Americans, to the civil rights struggle in Little Rock in the 1950s. …","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"68 1","pages":"94"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2009-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71113577","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}
After Redemption: Jim Crow and the Transformation of African American Religion in the Delta, 1875-1915. By John M. Giggie. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. Pp. xvii, 315. Abbreviations, prologue, introduction, epilogue, notes, bibliography, index. $74.00, cloth; $31.95, paper.) In After Redemption, John Giggie of the University of Alabama has produced an intriguing interpretation of black religion in the Deep South. The author suggests that the period of African-American history from Reconstruction to World War I has too often been neglected. Yet, says Giggie, this period "was a time of intense religious transformation" in which "rural African Americans" helped create the New South and were not just "quiet, distant observers" (pp. 5, 58). In the best tradition of historical scholarship, Giggie recreates a lost and almost forgotten world. Focusing on the Arkansas- Mississippi Delta, his book goes beyond political and denominational history to look at how modern technology, new business techniques, and non-church organizations affected the development of black religion. The author's use of sources is impressive, both in quantity and quality. He has dug deeply into private manuscripts, visiting more than fifteen separate repositories. The monograph also relies on insights garnered from more than fifty newspapers, most published by African-American religious bodies. Giggie rightly recognizes the richness of these periodicals and their importance for the self-understanding of black believers. The author also makes good use of government documents, denominational records, and scholarly secondary literature. Much development in the black religious ethos, according to the author, happened outside church walls. As railroads penetrated the delta, for example, trains became significant to the material lives and in the symbolic imagery of black locals. On the one hand, trains provided opportunity. They symbolized freedom and modernity, including the possibility of escape from the region's violent racism. Railroads also provided opportunities for evangelical outreach, for black ministers to travel, and for churches to relocate to rail centers. On the other hand, segregation on trains also humiliatingly reinforced the second-class social status of African Americans. Giggie then shows the powerful impact of black fraternal lodges on the African-American religious experience. Such groups as the Odd Fellows and the Knights of Pythias promoted "an ethic of self-help" and "alternative routes to dignity and status" (pp. 62-63). These groups put forth inspiring interpretations of African history, demanded decorum, and provided insurance benefits. Although initially suspicious of the lodges, black churches eventually reached accommodation with them. Churches began to provide similar self-help groups, many aimed at women, who were excluded from the lodges. …
{"title":"After Redemption: Jim Crow and the Transformation of African American Religion in the Delta, 1875-1915","authors":"C. Owen","doi":"10.5860/choice.46-0492","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.46-0492","url":null,"abstract":"After Redemption: Jim Crow and the Transformation of African American Religion in the Delta, 1875-1915. By John M. Giggie. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. Pp. xvii, 315. Abbreviations, prologue, introduction, epilogue, notes, bibliography, index. $74.00, cloth; $31.95, paper.) In After Redemption, John Giggie of the University of Alabama has produced an intriguing interpretation of black religion in the Deep South. The author suggests that the period of African-American history from Reconstruction to World War I has too often been neglected. Yet, says Giggie, this period \"was a time of intense religious transformation\" in which \"rural African Americans\" helped create the New South and were not just \"quiet, distant observers\" (pp. 5, 58). In the best tradition of historical scholarship, Giggie recreates a lost and almost forgotten world. Focusing on the Arkansas- Mississippi Delta, his book goes beyond political and denominational history to look at how modern technology, new business techniques, and non-church organizations affected the development of black religion. The author's use of sources is impressive, both in quantity and quality. He has dug deeply into private manuscripts, visiting more than fifteen separate repositories. The monograph also relies on insights garnered from more than fifty newspapers, most published by African-American religious bodies. Giggie rightly recognizes the richness of these periodicals and their importance for the self-understanding of black believers. The author also makes good use of government documents, denominational records, and scholarly secondary literature. Much development in the black religious ethos, according to the author, happened outside church walls. As railroads penetrated the delta, for example, trains became significant to the material lives and in the symbolic imagery of black locals. On the one hand, trains provided opportunity. They symbolized freedom and modernity, including the possibility of escape from the region's violent racism. Railroads also provided opportunities for evangelical outreach, for black ministers to travel, and for churches to relocate to rail centers. On the other hand, segregation on trains also humiliatingly reinforced the second-class social status of African Americans. Giggie then shows the powerful impact of black fraternal lodges on the African-American religious experience. Such groups as the Odd Fellows and the Knights of Pythias promoted \"an ethic of self-help\" and \"alternative routes to dignity and status\" (pp. 62-63). These groups put forth inspiring interpretations of African history, demanded decorum, and provided insurance benefits. Although initially suspicious of the lodges, black churches eventually reached accommodation with them. Churches began to provide similar self-help groups, many aimed at women, who were excluded from the lodges. …","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"67 1","pages":"308"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2008-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71121676","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":"Mr. Lincoln's Brown Water Navy: The Mississippi Squadron","authors":"Mark K. Christ","doi":"10.5860/choice.45-2802","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.45-2802","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"67 1","pages":"306"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2008-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71119033","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}
Pub Date : 2008-07-01DOI: 10.1163/2468-1733_shafr_sim130070017
J. Howard
American Inquisition: The Hunt for Japanese American Disloyalty in World War II. By Eric L. Muller. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007. Pp. xii, 216. Illustrations, notes, bibliography, index, $27.50.) After eviction from their homes, expulsion from the West Coast, detention in makeshift compounds, and indiscriminate incarceration in ten longer-term concentration camps, Japanese Americans in 1943 were then questioned about their national allegiance-and were fully expected to demonstrate it. This ludicrous exercise and its many related absurdities are deftly examined by legal scholar Eric Muller, who exercises calm, sober restraint throughout. As his insightful monograph shows, this American Inquisition necessarily revealed a great deal more about the intentions of interrogators than the loyalties of captives Muller's focus, therefore, is on the "loyalty bureaucracy," the four federal entities that assessed tens of thousands of cases (p. 2). The Western Defense Command (WDC), which had ordered removal, judged any potential return. In the interim, the Provost Marshal General's Office (PMGO) weighed suitability for employment in sensitive war industries; the War Relocation Authority (WRA) determined whether inmates could be released at all or were to be further segregated-that is, isolated at the reconfigured Tule Lake camp for so-called disloyals. For a time, the interdepartmental Japanese American Joint Board (JAJB) attempted to coordinate the efforts of all three. Historians have long appreciated the significance of the federal government's ill-conceived registration program-"by any measure," Muller suggests, "a disaster" (p. 36). The form filled out by all adult inmates, particularly questions twenty-seven and twenty-eight about military service and national loyalty, divided households and multiplied dissent from behind barbed wire. What became of the forms-how they were used and misused-makes for fascinating reading. Muller maneuvers through the mountains of midlevel managerial memoranda to reveal farcical systems administered by agencies often at odds with one another. For the WDC, the forms were unnecessary and potentially embarrassing, for "if the military now took the position that the loyalty of Japanese Americans could be [individually] ascertained, the public would want to know why" costly WRA camps had been established for wholesale confinement, "rather than screening the Japanese American population in the summer of 1942" (p. 33). Still, the questionnaires were answered, and the PMGO devised a point system to assess them. Since "perceived cultural assimilation [w]as a proxy" for loyalty, a second-generation birthright citizen of the United States would be awarded two points if "a Christian," for example, but deducted two points if able to read, write, and speak "Japanese good [sic]" (p. …
{"title":"American Inquisition: The Hunt for Japanese American Disloyalty in World War II","authors":"J. Howard","doi":"10.1163/2468-1733_shafr_sim130070017","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1163/2468-1733_shafr_sim130070017","url":null,"abstract":"American Inquisition: The Hunt for Japanese American Disloyalty in World War II. By Eric L. Muller. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007. Pp. xii, 216. Illustrations, notes, bibliography, index, $27.50.) After eviction from their homes, expulsion from the West Coast, detention in makeshift compounds, and indiscriminate incarceration in ten longer-term concentration camps, Japanese Americans in 1943 were then questioned about their national allegiance-and were fully expected to demonstrate it. This ludicrous exercise and its many related absurdities are deftly examined by legal scholar Eric Muller, who exercises calm, sober restraint throughout. As his insightful monograph shows, this American Inquisition necessarily revealed a great deal more about the intentions of interrogators than the loyalties of captives Muller's focus, therefore, is on the \"loyalty bureaucracy,\" the four federal entities that assessed tens of thousands of cases (p. 2). The Western Defense Command (WDC), which had ordered removal, judged any potential return. In the interim, the Provost Marshal General's Office (PMGO) weighed suitability for employment in sensitive war industries; the War Relocation Authority (WRA) determined whether inmates could be released at all or were to be further segregated-that is, isolated at the reconfigured Tule Lake camp for so-called disloyals. For a time, the interdepartmental Japanese American Joint Board (JAJB) attempted to coordinate the efforts of all three. Historians have long appreciated the significance of the federal government's ill-conceived registration program-\"by any measure,\" Muller suggests, \"a disaster\" (p. 36). The form filled out by all adult inmates, particularly questions twenty-seven and twenty-eight about military service and national loyalty, divided households and multiplied dissent from behind barbed wire. What became of the forms-how they were used and misused-makes for fascinating reading. Muller maneuvers through the mountains of midlevel managerial memoranda to reveal farcical systems administered by agencies often at odds with one another. For the WDC, the forms were unnecessary and potentially embarrassing, for \"if the military now took the position that the loyalty of Japanese Americans could be [individually] ascertained, the public would want to know why\" costly WRA camps had been established for wholesale confinement, \"rather than screening the Japanese American population in the summer of 1942\" (p. 33). Still, the questionnaires were answered, and the PMGO devised a point system to assess them. Since \"perceived cultural assimilation [w]as a proxy\" for loyalty, a second-generation birthright citizen of the United States would be awarded two points if \"a Christian,\" for example, but deducted two points if able to read, write, and speak \"Japanese good [sic]\" (p. …","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"67 1","pages":"209"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2008-07-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"64413448","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}
From French Community to Missouri Town: Ste. Genevieve in the Nineteenth Century. By Bonnie Stepenoff. (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2006. Pp. xiii, 232. Preface, acknowledgments, illustrations, bibliography, index. $29.95.) Ste. Genevieve, a small Missouri town on the bank of the Mississippi River, is of permanent interest to American and Arkansas historians. It was founded around 1750, but a great flood forced it to move to its current location in 1785, where it has been a permanent fixture under French, Spanish, and then American governments. As an old town, it was an actor in and a witness to events during those decades of change, a fact that makes its history inherently important. At the same time, it was itself changing, adapting to meet the new regimes with their new rules and new opportunities. How its citizens, old and new, got along, what they decided to bring with them from their various traditions, and what institutions and customs they invented to create a new future together are topics that can shed light on the larger processes of social change in the territory of the Louisiana Purchase. Such dynamic processes can and should be studied close to the centers of power, such as St. Louis. They may look a bit different in the smaller towns, though, because of the smaller number of players and the personal nature of the negotiations. Ste. Genevieve is that kind of historical locus. For historians of Arkansas, it offers an important case study of the Americanization process also experienced at Arkansas Post and smaller French and Spanish settlements. Its story has been studied by many scholars, particularly for the French and Spanish periods preceding the 1803 Louisiana Purchase. Less attention has been paid to Ste. Genevieve's American nineteenth century, and the lacuna has helped create the questionable assumption that Americanization came fairly routinely with the change of flags and governmental officials. This volume is an attempt to help fill that lacuna with details of life in American "Ste. Gen," as it came to be called. Bonnie Stepenoff is a history professor at Southeast Missouri State University in nearby Cape Girardeau. For eight summers (1997-2004), she took her students to Ste. Gen for a historic preservation field school sponsored by her university and the Missouri Department of Natural Resources. They toured, heard lectures, participated in archaeological excavation, and did research in cemeteries and public records. In the process, they generated a significant amount of data. The archaeological material has been published in the 1999 volume of Ohio Valley Archaeology. This volume presumably contains most of the remaining information and insights. Given the kind of research done by classes, this book could have been expected to be filled with biographical information from local records, and that is the case. It thus serves as a local history, but it is local history done in a famous and much-studied town, so it
{"title":"From French Community to Missouri Town: Ste. Genevieve in the Nineteenth Century","authors":"G. Lankford","doi":"10.5860/choice.44-7043","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.44-7043","url":null,"abstract":"From French Community to Missouri Town: Ste. Genevieve in the Nineteenth Century. By Bonnie Stepenoff. (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2006. Pp. xiii, 232. Preface, acknowledgments, illustrations, bibliography, index. $29.95.) Ste. Genevieve, a small Missouri town on the bank of the Mississippi River, is of permanent interest to American and Arkansas historians. It was founded around 1750, but a great flood forced it to move to its current location in 1785, where it has been a permanent fixture under French, Spanish, and then American governments. As an old town, it was an actor in and a witness to events during those decades of change, a fact that makes its history inherently important. At the same time, it was itself changing, adapting to meet the new regimes with their new rules and new opportunities. How its citizens, old and new, got along, what they decided to bring with them from their various traditions, and what institutions and customs they invented to create a new future together are topics that can shed light on the larger processes of social change in the territory of the Louisiana Purchase. Such dynamic processes can and should be studied close to the centers of power, such as St. Louis. They may look a bit different in the smaller towns, though, because of the smaller number of players and the personal nature of the negotiations. Ste. Genevieve is that kind of historical locus. For historians of Arkansas, it offers an important case study of the Americanization process also experienced at Arkansas Post and smaller French and Spanish settlements. Its story has been studied by many scholars, particularly for the French and Spanish periods preceding the 1803 Louisiana Purchase. Less attention has been paid to Ste. Genevieve's American nineteenth century, and the lacuna has helped create the questionable assumption that Americanization came fairly routinely with the change of flags and governmental officials. This volume is an attempt to help fill that lacuna with details of life in American \"Ste. Gen,\" as it came to be called. Bonnie Stepenoff is a history professor at Southeast Missouri State University in nearby Cape Girardeau. For eight summers (1997-2004), she took her students to Ste. Gen for a historic preservation field school sponsored by her university and the Missouri Department of Natural Resources. They toured, heard lectures, participated in archaeological excavation, and did research in cemeteries and public records. In the process, they generated a significant amount of data. The archaeological material has been published in the 1999 volume of Ohio Valley Archaeology. This volume presumably contains most of the remaining information and insights. Given the kind of research done by classes, this book could have been expected to be filled with biographical information from local records, and that is the case. It thus serves as a local history, but it is local history done in a famous and much-studied town, so it ","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"66 1","pages":"491"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2007-12-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71117138","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}
Massive Resistance: The White Response to the Civil Rights Movement. By George Lewis. (London: Hodder Arnold, 2006. Pp. vi, 254. Acknowledgments, notes, select bibliography, index. $29.95, paper.) Over the last twenty years, studies of the civil rights movement have been hugely enhanced by a change of focus from national protest organizations and their leaders to local groups and unsung community activists. Scholars such as John Dittmer, Charles Payne, and J. Mills Thornton III have demonstrated that the movement was a much more diverse and variegated phenomenon than earlier research suggested. Lewis's work represents a belated but comparable trend in examinations of the movement's opponents. Massive resistance, he concludes, was such "a multi-headed Hydra" that "[i]t is . . . essential to envision [it] not as a single homogeneous movement but as a conglomeration of concomitant conversations of resistance" (pp. 8, 185). Drawing on a solid range of secondary literature, his own knowledge of border-state archival resources, and the "White Resistance and Reprisals" reels of the microfilmed papers of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, Lewis treats the development of massive resistance as a multifaceted evolution, from its first mention by Virginia senator Harry Flood Byrd in February 1956 to the rebirth of many of its less overtly racist ideas in national neoconservative discourse from the mid-1960s. Although he extends the notion of massive resistance beyond its common association with school desegregation to include campaigns against the civil rights movement at large, his treatment of events in such theaters as Albany, Georgia, Oxford, Mississippi, and Birmingham, Alabama is more limited and much less dependent on primary sources than the robust consideration of school matters and, more broadly, events before 1960. Lewis argues for a three-phase evolution of massive resistance, with each phase not so much strictly chronological as distinguished by the outlook and methods of the particular resistance group or groups most active at a given time. In the wake of the May 1954 Brown decision outlawing school segregation, Lewis suggests, while state leaders blustered and floundered, grassroots organizations such as the citizens' councils seized the initiative and carried the burden of opposition. The appearance of the Southern Manifesto in March 1956 signalled not only a more sophisticated intellectual defense of the southern way of life but also a period of legislative vigor designed to thwart both local activism and what was seen to be federal intrusion into traditional state responsibilities, contrary to the provisions of the Tenth Amendment to the Constitution. …
《大规模抵抗:白人对民权运动的回应》乔治·刘易斯著。(伦敦:霍德·阿诺德出版社,2006)第六页,254页。致谢,注释,选择参考书目,索引。29.95美元,纸上。)在过去的二十年里,对民权运动的研究得到了极大的加强,因为关注的焦点从全国性的抗议组织及其领导人转向了地方团体和无名的社区活动家。约翰·迪特默、查尔斯·佩恩和j·米尔斯·桑顿三世等学者已经证明,这场运动是一个比早期研究所认为的更加多样化和多样化的现象。刘易斯的研究代表了一种迟来但可比较的趋势,即对该运动反对者的审查。他总结道,大规模的抵抗是“多头九头蛇”,“它是……重要的是,不要把它想象成一个单一的同质运动,而是把它想象成一个伴随的抵抗对话的集合体”(第8,185页)。刘易斯借鉴了大量的二手文献,他自己对边境州档案资源的了解,以及全国有色人种协进会(National Association for the Advancement of Colored People)微缩胶片文件的“白人抵抗与报复”卷,将大规模抵抗的发展视为一个多方面的演变,从1956年2月弗吉尼亚州参议员哈里·弗拉德·伯德第一次提到它,到20世纪60年代中期,它的许多不那么明显的种族主义思想在全国新保守主义话语中重生。尽管他将大规模抵抗的概念从通常与学校废除种族隔离的联系扩展到包括反对民权运动的运动,但他对奥尔巴尼、乔治亚州、牛津、密西西比州和阿拉巴马州伯明翰等剧院发生的事件的处理更加有限,对原始资料的依赖程度远远低于对学校事务的强烈考虑,更广泛地说,1960年以前的事件。刘易斯认为大规模抵抗运动有三个阶段的演变,每个阶段都不是严格按照时间顺序排列的,而是根据特定抵抗组织的观点和方法来区分的,或者在特定时间最活跃的组织。刘易斯认为,在1954年5月布朗决定宣布学校种族隔离为非法之后,当州领导人咆哮和挣扎时,公民委员会等基层组织抓住了主动权,承担了反对的责任。1956年3月《南方宣言》的出现不仅标志着对南方生活方式更为成熟的知识分子的捍卫,而且标志着一段立法活力的时期,旨在挫败地方激进主义和联邦对传统州责任的侵犯,这违反了宪法第十修正案的规定。…
{"title":"Massive Resistance: The White Response to the Civil Rights Movement","authors":"Graeme Cope","doi":"10.5860/choice.45-0457","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.45-0457","url":null,"abstract":"Massive Resistance: The White Response to the Civil Rights Movement. By George Lewis. (London: Hodder Arnold, 2006. Pp. vi, 254. Acknowledgments, notes, select bibliography, index. $29.95, paper.) Over the last twenty years, studies of the civil rights movement have been hugely enhanced by a change of focus from national protest organizations and their leaders to local groups and unsung community activists. Scholars such as John Dittmer, Charles Payne, and J. Mills Thornton III have demonstrated that the movement was a much more diverse and variegated phenomenon than earlier research suggested. Lewis's work represents a belated but comparable trend in examinations of the movement's opponents. Massive resistance, he concludes, was such \"a multi-headed Hydra\" that \"[i]t is . . . essential to envision [it] not as a single homogeneous movement but as a conglomeration of concomitant conversations of resistance\" (pp. 8, 185). Drawing on a solid range of secondary literature, his own knowledge of border-state archival resources, and the \"White Resistance and Reprisals\" reels of the microfilmed papers of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, Lewis treats the development of massive resistance as a multifaceted evolution, from its first mention by Virginia senator Harry Flood Byrd in February 1956 to the rebirth of many of its less overtly racist ideas in national neoconservative discourse from the mid-1960s. Although he extends the notion of massive resistance beyond its common association with school desegregation to include campaigns against the civil rights movement at large, his treatment of events in such theaters as Albany, Georgia, Oxford, Mississippi, and Birmingham, Alabama is more limited and much less dependent on primary sources than the robust consideration of school matters and, more broadly, events before 1960. Lewis argues for a three-phase evolution of massive resistance, with each phase not so much strictly chronological as distinguished by the outlook and methods of the particular resistance group or groups most active at a given time. In the wake of the May 1954 Brown decision outlawing school segregation, Lewis suggests, while state leaders blustered and floundered, grassroots organizations such as the citizens' councils seized the initiative and carried the burden of opposition. The appearance of the Southern Manifesto in March 1956 signalled not only a more sophisticated intellectual defense of the southern way of life but also a period of legislative vigor designed to thwart both local activism and what was seen to be federal intrusion into traditional state responsibilities, contrary to the provisions of the Tenth Amendment to the Constitution. …","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"66 1","pages":"501"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2007-12-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71117556","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}
WHETHER BY DESIGN OR FATE, the first sit-in conducted by the Pine Bluff Student Movement (PBSM) occurred on February 1, 1963, the first day of Black History Month, established thirty-seven years earlier, as well as the third anniversary of the Greensboro, North Carolina, student sit-in. Thirteen students of Arkansas Agricultural, Mechanical & Normal College (AM&N) entered the F. W. Woolworth store in downtown Pine Bluff a little after 2:00 P.M., carrying textbooks and dressed in their Sunday best. As soon as the students sat down at the lunch counter, a waitress-apparently by prior arrangement-turned off the lights, closing the counter for business. For more than two hours, the thirteen students silently sat in the semi-darkness as word spread through downtown that a sit-in was in progress. Curious onlookers filed into the Woolworth to watch. After being identified by the police as the leader of the PBSM, Robert Whitfield, a AM&N junior from Little Rock, was approached by store manager T. W. Harper and asked into Harper's office for a private meeting. As the other students continued the demonstration, Whitfield spoke with Harper for more than one hour, no doubt trying to reach an amicable compromise.1 At 5:30 P.M., when Harper announced the store was closing more than two hours early, the A&MN students quietly rose from the lunch counter and left the store. This sit-in, the first in Pine Bluff history, broke a number of barriers. The city's black community was large and vigorous but existed apart from white institutions. Situated in the heart of the black section of Pine Bluff, the campus of AM&N and its students were largely self-sufficient. More generally, black entrepreneurs-operating everything from financial institutions to eateries and beauty shops-offered a range of services unavailable to the black citizenry via most whiteowned establishments in the city. The sit-in, however, bridged this divide. The city's daily newspaper, the Pine Bluff Commercial, placed a photograph of three unidentified protesters-two men and one woman-on its front page. Prior to the publication of the photograph, pictures of African Americans had rarely appeared on the front page of the Commercial. Certainly, pictures of black ministers, university officials, and community leaders had appeared, but they were buried deep within the newspaper. Most importantly, prior to the student sit-ins, news relating to the black community had not appeared on the paper's front page. Instead, the Commercial largely confined its coverage to basketball games between historically black colleges, a segregated obituary column entitled "Negro Deaths," and infrequent, token articles about presumably good race relations. Henceforth, stories associated with the AM&N sitins would regularly appear on the front page. Over the course of a few months, a small group of student activists changed the face of race relations in their community. There is much more to the story of Arkansas during the c
不知是有意还是命中注定,由派恩布拉夫学生运动(PBSM)组织的第一次静坐发生在1963年2月1日,这是37年前设立的黑人历史月的第一天,也是北卡罗来纳州格林斯博罗学生静坐事件的三周年纪念日。下午两点多一点,阿肯色农业、机械与师范学院(AM&N)的13名学生拿着课本,穿着最好的衣服,走进了位于派恩布拉夫市中心的伍尔沃斯书店。学生们刚在午餐柜台坐下,一名女服务员——显然是事先安排好的——就关掉了灯,关闭了柜台。在两个多小时的时间里,13名学生在半明半暗的环境中默默静坐,静坐的消息在市中心传开了。好奇的旁观者鱼贯进入伍尔沃斯剧院观看。在被警方确认为PBSM的领导人后,小石城的AM&N大三学生罗伯特·惠特菲尔德(Robert Whitfield)被商店经理t·w·哈珀(T. W. Harper)找到,并被邀请到哈珀的办公室进行私人会面。当其他学生继续示威时,惠特菲尔德与哈珀谈了一个多小时,毫无疑问,他试图达成一个友好的妥协下午五点半,当哈珀宣布商店提前两个多小时关门时,A&MN的学生们静静地从午餐柜台起身离开了商店。这是派恩布拉夫历史上的第一次静坐,打破了许多障碍。这座城市的黑人社区庞大而充满活力,但与白人机构分开存在。位于派恩布拉夫黑人区的中心,AM&N的校园和它的学生基本上是自给自足的。更普遍的是,黑人企业家——经营着从金融机构到餐馆和美容店的一切——通过城市中大多数白人拥有的机构提供了一系列黑人公民无法获得的服务。然而,这次静坐弥补了这一分歧。该市的日报《派恩布拉夫商业报》(Pine Bluff Commercial)在头版刊登了三名身份不明的抗议者的照片——两男一女。在这张照片发表之前,非裔美国人的照片很少出现在广告的头版。当然,黑人牧师、大学官员和社区领袖的照片也出现过,但它们被深深地埋在报纸里。最重要的是,在学生静坐之前,有关黑人社区的新闻并没有出现在报纸的头版。相反,《商业报》的报道主要局限于传统黑人大学之间的篮球比赛,一个题为“黑人之死”的种族隔离讣告专栏,以及罕见的关于可能良好的种族关系的象征性文章。此后,与AM&N静坐有关的报道将定期出现在头版。在几个月的时间里,一小群学生积极分子改变了他们社区种族关系的面貌。在民权运动期间,阿肯色州的故事远不止小石城一个人的故事,但1957年的事件长期以来一直盖过了其他改变生活和整个社区的事件。PBSM的痛苦诞生就是这样一个插曲。世界各地的报纸都没有把派恩布拉夫的事件作为头条新闻。总统没有将军队联邦化,以确保PBSM成员能够继续在AM&N接受教育。但是,研究导致15名学生被开除的事件、黑人社区内部因AM&N校长劳伦斯·a·戴维斯(Lawrence A. Davis)开除学生的决定而产生的严重分歧,以及学生个人面临的后果,都是有益的,因为它表明,把阿肯色州的民权运动描绘成一个成功的故事的叙述是不充分的——主要是在1959年小石城高中重新开学时把这个故事缩短了。派恩布拉夫在阿肯色州的民权历史上占有重要的地位。在那里工作的两名非裔美国律师w。…
{"title":"\"It Was the Wrong Time, and They Just Weren't Ready\": Direct-Action Protest in Pine Bluff, 1963","authors":"Holly Y. McGee","doi":"10.2307/j.ctt1ffjfsx.7","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt1ffjfsx.7","url":null,"abstract":"WHETHER BY DESIGN OR FATE, the first sit-in conducted by the Pine Bluff Student Movement (PBSM) occurred on February 1, 1963, the first day of Black History Month, established thirty-seven years earlier, as well as the third anniversary of the Greensboro, North Carolina, student sit-in. Thirteen students of Arkansas Agricultural, Mechanical & Normal College (AM&N) entered the F. W. Woolworth store in downtown Pine Bluff a little after 2:00 P.M., carrying textbooks and dressed in their Sunday best. As soon as the students sat down at the lunch counter, a waitress-apparently by prior arrangement-turned off the lights, closing the counter for business. For more than two hours, the thirteen students silently sat in the semi-darkness as word spread through downtown that a sit-in was in progress. Curious onlookers filed into the Woolworth to watch. After being identified by the police as the leader of the PBSM, Robert Whitfield, a AM&N junior from Little Rock, was approached by store manager T. W. Harper and asked into Harper's office for a private meeting. As the other students continued the demonstration, Whitfield spoke with Harper for more than one hour, no doubt trying to reach an amicable compromise.1 At 5:30 P.M., when Harper announced the store was closing more than two hours early, the A&MN students quietly rose from the lunch counter and left the store. This sit-in, the first in Pine Bluff history, broke a number of barriers. The city's black community was large and vigorous but existed apart from white institutions. Situated in the heart of the black section of Pine Bluff, the campus of AM&N and its students were largely self-sufficient. More generally, black entrepreneurs-operating everything from financial institutions to eateries and beauty shops-offered a range of services unavailable to the black citizenry via most whiteowned establishments in the city. The sit-in, however, bridged this divide. The city's daily newspaper, the Pine Bluff Commercial, placed a photograph of three unidentified protesters-two men and one woman-on its front page. Prior to the publication of the photograph, pictures of African Americans had rarely appeared on the front page of the Commercial. Certainly, pictures of black ministers, university officials, and community leaders had appeared, but they were buried deep within the newspaper. Most importantly, prior to the student sit-ins, news relating to the black community had not appeared on the paper's front page. Instead, the Commercial largely confined its coverage to basketball games between historically black colleges, a segregated obituary column entitled \"Negro Deaths,\" and infrequent, token articles about presumably good race relations. Henceforth, stories associated with the AM&N sitins would regularly appear on the front page. Over the course of a few months, a small group of student activists changed the face of race relations in their community. There is much more to the story of Arkansas during the c","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"66 1","pages":"18"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2007-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"68715259","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}
Elias Cornelius Boudinot: A Life on the Cherokee Border. By James W. Parins. (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2006. Pp. 252. Acknowledgments, illustrations, notes, bibliography, index. $60.00.) Elias Cornelius Boudinot might have been subtitled Cherokee Robber Barren except that Boudinot's get-rich quick schemes never brought him the wealth he desired. As historian James Parins points out, Boudinot's personal heritage marked his life. His father, Buck Oo-watie, who had adopted the name Elias Boudinot, and his uncle Major Ridge and cousin John Ridge had been assassinated by followers of Principal Chief John Ross in 1839, following their support of the Treaty of New Echota, which led to the Cherokee removal on the Trail of Tears. The murders and the hasty exodus by his family and other members of the Treaty party from Indian Territory to Arkansas left an indelible impression on Elias Cornelius. Eike his family, Boudinot was determined to stand up for what he believed in, regardless of the enemies it created. Parins shows that Elias Cornelius Boudinot consistently supported Cherokee "progress toward civilization," as his elders had. For him, "progress" meant the end of tribal sovereignty and governance, the building of railroads through Indian Territory, and the opening of the territory to whites to bring in trade, tourism, and greater economic prosperity. Parins analyzes Boudinot's strategies to accomplish his objectives, including newspaper editorials and classical rhetoric, which he used to persuade a variety of audiences that his perspective was the only legitimate one. Obviously, most white Americans needed little persuasion to accept his arguments and transform them into official policies. However, as Parins so adeptly reveals, the majority of Cherokees branded Boudinot, as they had his father, a traitor to his people. The reader knows the ultimate outcome. The railroads came through Indian Territory in the late 180Os, and whites overran the territory, grabbed lands legally and illegally, and soon pushed the territory into statehood as Oklahoma, leaving little power and less prosperity for the Cherokees. What the reader will learn from Parins' work is that Boudinot facilitated these developments through political lobbying, expert networking amongst the railroad and business communities, and powerful oratory on speaking tours around the country. The reader will also learn that Boudinot's political and economic ambition fueled his quest for this "progress" for his people. …
伊莱亚斯·科尼利厄斯·布迪诺:切罗基边境的生活。詹姆斯·w·帕林斯著。林肯:内布拉斯加大学出版社,2006。252页。致谢、插图、注释、参考书目、索引。60.00美元)。伊莱亚斯·科尼利厄斯·布迪诺本可以被称为切罗基强盗贫瘠,但布迪诺的快速致富计划从未给他带来他想要的财富。正如历史学家詹姆斯·帕里斯指出的那样,布迪诺的个人遗产标志着他的生活。1839年,他的父亲巴克·乌瓦蒂(Buck o-watie),取名为伊莱亚斯·布迪诺(Elias Boudinot),他的叔叔梅杰·里奇(Major Ridge)和堂兄约翰·里奇(John Ridge)被首席酋长约翰·罗斯(John Ross)的追随者暗杀,原因是他们支持《新埃可塔条约》(Treaty of New Echota),该条约导致切罗基人在血泪之路被驱逐。谋杀和他的家人和其他条约党成员从印第安领土匆忙逃亡到阿肯色州给伊莱亚斯·科尼利厄斯留下了不可磨灭的印象。像他的家人一样,布迪诺决心坚持他的信仰,不管它会带来什么敌人。帕里斯指出,伊莱亚斯·科尼利厄斯·布迪诺一如既往地支持切罗基人“向文明迈进”,就像他的长辈一样。对他来说,“进步”意味着部落主权和统治的结束,在印第安人领地修建铁路,向白人开放领地,带来贸易、旅游业和更大的经济繁荣。Parins分析了Boudinot实现他的目标的策略,包括报纸社论和古典修辞,他用来说服各种观众,他的观点是唯一合法的。显然,大多数美国白人几乎不需要说服就能接受他的观点,并将其转化为官方政策。然而,正如帕里斯巧妙地揭示的那样,大多数切罗基人把布迪诺和他的父亲一样,称为人民的叛徒。读者知道最终的结果。19世纪80年代末,铁路穿过印第安人的领地,白人占领了这片领土,合法或非法地攫取土地,很快就把这片领土变成了俄克拉何马州,给切罗基人留下了很少的权力和更少的繁荣。读者将从Parins的作品中了解到,Boudinot通过政治游说,铁路和商业社区的专家网络,以及在全国巡回演讲中的强大演讲,促进了这些发展。读者还将了解到,布迪诺的政治和经济野心促使他为他的人民寻求这种“进步”。…
{"title":"Elias Cornelius Boudinot: A Life on the Cherokee Border","authors":"Alice Taylor-Colbert","doi":"10.5860/choice.44-3472","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.44-3472","url":null,"abstract":"Elias Cornelius Boudinot: A Life on the Cherokee Border. By James W. Parins. (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2006. Pp. 252. Acknowledgments, illustrations, notes, bibliography, index. $60.00.) Elias Cornelius Boudinot might have been subtitled Cherokee Robber Barren except that Boudinot's get-rich quick schemes never brought him the wealth he desired. As historian James Parins points out, Boudinot's personal heritage marked his life. His father, Buck Oo-watie, who had adopted the name Elias Boudinot, and his uncle Major Ridge and cousin John Ridge had been assassinated by followers of Principal Chief John Ross in 1839, following their support of the Treaty of New Echota, which led to the Cherokee removal on the Trail of Tears. The murders and the hasty exodus by his family and other members of the Treaty party from Indian Territory to Arkansas left an indelible impression on Elias Cornelius. Eike his family, Boudinot was determined to stand up for what he believed in, regardless of the enemies it created. Parins shows that Elias Cornelius Boudinot consistently supported Cherokee \"progress toward civilization,\" as his elders had. For him, \"progress\" meant the end of tribal sovereignty and governance, the building of railroads through Indian Territory, and the opening of the territory to whites to bring in trade, tourism, and greater economic prosperity. Parins analyzes Boudinot's strategies to accomplish his objectives, including newspaper editorials and classical rhetoric, which he used to persuade a variety of audiences that his perspective was the only legitimate one. Obviously, most white Americans needed little persuasion to accept his arguments and transform them into official policies. However, as Parins so adeptly reveals, the majority of Cherokees branded Boudinot, as they had his father, a traitor to his people. The reader knows the ultimate outcome. The railroads came through Indian Territory in the late 180Os, and whites overran the territory, grabbed lands legally and illegally, and soon pushed the territory into statehood as Oklahoma, leaving little power and less prosperity for the Cherokees. What the reader will learn from Parins' work is that Boudinot facilitated these developments through political lobbying, expert networking amongst the railroad and business communities, and powerful oratory on speaking tours around the country. The reader will also learn that Boudinot's political and economic ambition fueled his quest for this \"progress\" for his people. …","PeriodicalId":51953,"journal":{"name":"ARKANSAS HISTORICAL QUARTERLY","volume":"66 1","pages":"79"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2007-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71114893","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}