Library of Congress's Blog, page 79

A Soldier’s Story: Thomas Michael Martin

 

In Tom Martin’s life, the U.S. Army seemed like the family trade.

His dad, Ed, put in 29 years. His mom, Candy, 38. Erika (Noyes) Holownia, his fiancé, graduated from West Point in 2005, the same year as Tom. They served in Iraq together. She flew helicopters to airlift injured soldiers; he ran a sniper team. When she choppered into his base, he’d run out and say “Hi” for the two minutes she was on the ground.

“I love Calvin and Hobbes, watching movies and the Army,” he wrote in one of his popular blog posts. He also like the Cincinnati Bengals, the University of Arkansas Razorbacks, beer (Guinness) and scotch (Glenlivet). His friends razzed him that he’d stay in the Army until he had “forty eleven years of service.”

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Candy, Tom and Ed Martin braving the cold for an Army-Navy game. Thomas Martin Collection, Veterans History Project, Library of Congress, AFC2001/001/113364 (PH02)

He did not get that many.

Tom’s story, organized into five neat manila folders and two oral histories completed by his parents under the Gold Star Family Voices Act in the Veterans History Project, is one of the recent, moving additions to the Library’s 108,000-and-counting story collection of the lives of veterans from World War I forward. Veterans use everything to tell of their stories — on-camera interviews, emails, drawings, photographs, military paperwork — and thousands of volunteers use the project’s guidelines to help them organize it.

“These aren’t dusty documents on a shelf,” says Megan Harris, Senior Reference Specialist for the project, holding the folders that tell Tom’s story. “These are things that are very, very personal.”

Some of the stories are dramatic. Some are simple. All of them are tiles in the historical mosaic. Tom’s is a short story, but is true in fact and in its unadorned honesty. It is beautiful that way.

It goes like this.

Thomas Michael Martin was born in 1980 in Huron, South Dakota. The family left shortly thereafter and wound up in Cabot, Ark. He was active in church, 4-H, played in the school band, and went from Boy Scout to Eagle Scout. After high school, he enlisted in the Army and, in due time, wound up at West Point.

As a cadet, he started on the rugby team. He got his Parachutist Badge. He went to Ranger School and got the tab for that, too. He also fell in love with Erika, his fellow cadet. They are a handsome couple, him tall and broad-shouldered; she shorter and wiry. They seem to be on the verge of laughter in all their pictures. His first posting was at Fort Richardson, Alaska. About a year after graduation, she flew to visit him for the Labor Day weekend.  They took a cruise tour of the Kenai Fjords. When the ship paused at a glacier, he was ready. As he later wrote on his blog:

“We were facing the ice and I hugged her from behind and started talking about how life was perfect when we were together and how I wanted that in the future. I talked about all the trips we’ve taken and the good times we’ve spent together and how I thought we both wouldn’t mind doing stuff like that for the rest of our lives….I turned her around so she was facing me I got down on one knee and brought out the ring and asked her to marry me. She rather adamantly said yes and as I put the ring on her finger the people around us started clapping and cheering. It was perfect.”

They made plans for the wedding. But first, they both had active duty stints in Iraq. They were headed to a dangerous region south of Baghdad, between Sunni and Shiite areas; her unit would be in support of his.

It was an ironic posting. Tom’s mother, Candy, served an active tour (as a warrant officer) in that area from 2005-6.

“We’ll be fine,” he wrote on his blog.

For a year, he was. He was a 1st Lieutenant in Troop C, 1st Squadron, 40th Calvary, 4th Brigade Combat Team, detailed as Scout Sniper Platoon Leader. He went on more than 300 missions and walked more than 600 miles on active duty, his family later noted.

On October 14, 2007, in the dead of night, his unit was on patrol when they came under attack. Shots were exchanged. At 1:21 a.m., one of those rounds found Tom. Then another. They did their work, there in the darkness, deep in the night. Frantic radio calls for help. A helicopter rushed to pick him up. “I knew it was Tom right away,” Erika later told Maxim magazine, when she heard the call go out.

Everyone did everything they could. But 27 minutes later, Thomas Michael Martin’s heart stopped beating. The casualty category, on the military form that listed his passing, was as terse as it was final: “Killed in Action.”

He was 27. He was buried in West Point National Cemetery.

But his story, his life and what it meant, to his country and to those who loved him, kept going. Erika was offered a chance to transfer, but stayed in Iraq to finish her posting. “At least if I was in Iraq, I stood a chance of helping somebody else. And potentially that next person we picked up would be somebody else’s Tom,” she told Maxim. The family set up a memorial foundation his name. Candy served as national president of American Gold Star Mothers Inc. She and Ed have devoted their retirement to a slew of volunteer groups serving soldiers.

It’s a fine and touching military family story, tinged by heartbreak and sacrifice. It lingers with you, after the folders are closed and the papers put away. Its resting place is the Thomas Michael Martin Veterans History Project Collection.

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Tom in his US Military Academy uniform and his mother in her Army dress uniform. Thomas Martin Collection, Veterans History Project, Library of Congress, AFC2001/001/113364 (PH05).

 

 

 

Inquiring Minds: Researching Women’s History at the Library

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Stephanie Salinas (left) and Lorena Rodriguez in the Manuscript Reading Room. Photo by David Rice.

For years now, Saundra Rose Maley has encouraged her English composition students at Montgomery College in Montgomery County, Maryland, to think of themselves as detectives. The setting for their investigations: the Manuscript Division of the Library of Congress. Their task: to scout out primary sources for novel or surprising details about historical figures and write a research paper about their findings.

Late last year, Maley shared her thoughts about the assignment in a blog interview. “Every semester, there are at least five, maybe more, students who turn out to be excellent researchers and discover that they really like doing the work,” she said. “Some even decide to change their majors when they discover something intriguing about their research subject.”

Now two of Maley’s students — Lorena Rodriguez and Stephanie Salinas — talk about their experience doing research at the Library. Both chose to explore papers of notable women in American history. We are publishing their comments today as part of the Library’s celebration of Women’s History Month.

Tell us a little about your background.

Rodriguez: I was born in El Salvador and came to the United States when I was 10 years old. I live in Laurel, Maryland, with my parents, younger sister and twin sister. I am majoring in business at Montgomery College.

Salinas: I was born and raised in Washington, D.C., but my family is originally from El Salvador. I transferred to Montgomery College in 2018 from Trinity Washington University. I am majoring in general studies while I complete my prerequisites for nursing. I also volunteer at the Children’s National Hospital, and I have volunteered at other local clinics.

What was your reaction when you first heard about the assignment?

Rodriguez: I had high expectations, because history is something I’m passionate about. But I was a little concerned about going to the Library of Congress for research – I had never been to the Library before, and I did not know what to expect.

Salinas: When I first heard about the assignment, I was a bit intimidated, because I had never worked with primary sources before. But I love doing research and learning about new things. Looking back, Professor Maley’s class was one of my favorites. It challenged me and taught me a lot about primary sources and other scholarly resources.

Who did you research and how did you start?

Rodriguez: I decided to research Clare Boothe Luce, because she was a politician and a writer – that got my attention immediately. I love to write, and I’m interested in politics. The fact that she was a woman made it feel more personal and made me even more curious to research her story. I started by setting a calendar with deadlines and outlines. I also asked Professor Maley as many questions as I could about Luce and searched for biographies and books about her.

Salinas: I researched Elizabeth Blackwell, the first women to receive a medical degree in the United States. I chose her because I’m interested in a career in the medical field, and I want to understand the history of women in medicine. Also, I am really passionate about women in male-dominated industries and occupations, and the Library has an extensive collection of her family’s manuscripts. I started by looking at finding aids about Blackwell, and then I did some research on my own before heading to the Library. I worked with microfilms there, which definitely took some time to get used to.

What interesting or surprising discoveries did you make?

Rodriguez: I made many interesting discoveries. But in the diary of Luce’s daughter, Ann Clare Brokaw, I discovered that Luce and her daughter did not have a great relationship – Brokaw complained about her mother’s attitude. Another interesting discovery was Luce’s relationship with Bernard Baruch. I read quite a few letters between the two that made it seem as if their friendship was very intimate. In one letter, Baruch complained about Luce not returning a message.

Salinas: I was completely unaware of all the struggles Blackwell faced growing up and while pursuing her education. I came to the conclusion that she was actually a really sad individual. She did so much and contributed to science in so many ways. But looking at several of her letters, you can really see how alone she felt even though she was surrounded by all these people. Still, she was a true inspiration to so many women in her time who wanted to pursue medical careers.

What was your experience like working at the Library?

Rodriguez: My experience was great. When I arrived at the Manuscript Division, a staff member helped my friend and I get started. From that moment until I finished my research, the staff was very polite and helpful.

Salinas: I have lived in the District of Columbia my whole life, but I had never visited the Library. My first visit, I got lost and went to the Jefferson Building instead of the Madison Building. Getting lost was probably one of the best things that happened to me, because the Jefferson Building is beautiful, and the staff is great. Working at the Library was a true honor. The staff of the Manuscript Division was really helpful – Patrick Kerwin of the division suggested certain boxes to look at, and other staff taught me to use the microfilm. My favorite boxes were the one including articles and books Blackwell had written. I also loved looking at the miscellaneous folder, because you never knew what interesting thing you were going to discover that day.

How would you describe the value of the assignment?

Rodriguez: It was important to me, because it took me out of my comfort zone and challenged me to do something I wouldn’t normally do. It made me realize how much I can genuinely enjoy going to the Library of Congress and doing research for myself.

Salinas: I learned a lot about myself as a writer and a researcher. I enjoyed how the assignment challenged me to look at primary sources, something I had never done before. Anyone would be lucky to take Professor Maley’s course. I was kind of upset that it eventually came to an end. I really encourage anyone who wants to look at primary sources to go to the Manuscript Division at the Library, because you never know what you are going to discover.

Pic of the Week: James Baldwin’s “Little Man, Little Man”

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Photo by Shawn Miller.

Aisha Karefa-Smart, James Baldwin’s niece, reads from a recently released edition of “Little Man, Little Man: A Story of Childhood,” the only children’s book Baldwin wrote, at a Library of Congress panel discussion on Feb. 28, 2019. Karefa-Smart, a D.C.-based author, wrote the book’s afterword. The book was originally written in 1971, when Baldwin was living in the south of France, the same time and place in which he wrote “If Beale Street Could Talk.” The 120-page novel tells of the adventures of four-year-old TJ – in real life, his nephew and Karefa-Smart’s brother, Tejan Karefa-Smart, who is now a photographer in Paris.

African-American History Month: ‘Native Son,’ Uncensored

This post is republished from the January–February issue of LCM, the Library of Congress Magazine. The entire issue is available online.

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Richard Wright, 1943. Photo by Gordon Parks.

In his classic novel “Native Son,” Richard Wright tells the story of a poverty-stricken young black man who takes a job as a chauffeur to a white family in Chicago, accidentally kills the daughter and tries to cover it up.

For decades, the film version of “Native Son” didn’t tell the whole story — the result of censorship before its U.S. release. Only in recent years has the original version been available, thanks to a restoration done by the Library of Congress.

The film was shot in Argentina by French director Pierre Chenal from a screenplay written by Wright, who also (and unusually) starred as the lead character, Bigger Thomas.

“Native Son” premiered in Argentina in 1951 but was heavily censored for its U.S. release. Censors cut, among other things, comments about white “race hatred,” shortened sequences depicting Thomas’ consultations with lawyers and his murder trial and removed scenes showing a white lynch mob and police violence.

Those cuts resulted in another loss: the near-disappearance of the original version.

For some six decades, the censored version of “Native Son” was the only one available — until the Library restored the original film to its original 107 minutes using a 16mm Argentine print and an international version discovered in an abandoned nitrate film vault in Puerto Rico.

The Library documents the original film in another way, too. Its Copyright Deposit Descriptions collection — material acquired through copyright submissions — holds the “dialogue continuity,” a transcription of the final version of the film complete with corrections, amendations and passages struck by censors. In one scene, censors cut a scene in which Thomas kills a footlong rat in the family apartment, softening the depiction of brutal living conditions. In another, censors delete a discussion about smashing the Jim Crow system.

In the Library’s collections, however, Wright’s original vision lives on, both on film and paper, for future audiences. Scroll down to view a portion of the dialogue continuity acquired by the Library through copyright deposit. A larger version is available in the printed LCM.

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This transcribed page from the final version of “Native Son” shows cuts marked for the film’s U.S. release.

New Online: Educating the Public about Education

This is a guest post by Amanda Reichenbach about a new American Archive of Public Broadcasting (AAPB) collection covering education reporting on public television. The AAPB is a collaboration between the Library of Congress and the Boston public broadcaster WGBH. Reichenbach worked on the release while interning last summer at the Library’s John W. Kluge Center. The previous summer, in an internship with the Library’s Junior Fellows Program, she worked with newly digitized material related to the Watergate scandal of the 1970s, made available online last year by the AAPB. Reichenbach has a B.A. in history from Yale University and teaches history at the Groton School in Massachusetts.

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Amanda Reichenbach

Last month, I contributed to a roundtable at the annual meeting of the American Historical Association (AHA) encouraging historians to use public broadcasting archives in their research. I attempted to show why broadcasts are useful to the historian in a different way than, say, newspapers or even commercial television. It seems to me, for example, that watching the Watergate hearings — the subject of my 2017 Library of Congress internship — draws the researcher into the drama that kept Americans glued to their televisions in summer 1973 more powerfully than simply reading the transcripts can do.

So why use public television archives to tell a story about education, the subject of my most recent internship? What special angle do these broadcasts offer? Three snapshots stand out to me, illustrating why I believe the videos in the exhibit have so much to offer historians.

Public Television and Student Activist Groups

In the early years of public television, documentary producers had special access to groups like the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) thanks to a reputation for progressive coverage; student groups often blocked commercial networks from filming their meetings. “NET was the only network organization offered unrestricted access to the strategy meetings of these groups, giving NET an edge in its coverage of the student movement,” recounted historian Carolyn Brooks, referring to National Educational Television, an early attempt at a public television network, which operated from 1953 to 1972. This access resulted in a slew of fascinating films documenting campus unrest in the final years of the 1960s. One documentary, “Diary of a Student Revolution,” was filmed at the University of Connecticut in December 1968 during a wave of student protests surrounding on-campus recruiting by military contractors. One crew followed the UConn branch of SDS, while another monitored the president of the university, Homer D. Babbidge Jr. In the final cut, the viewer is a fly on two rather different walls, witnessing reactions to events on both sides of the battle simultaneously. Such compelling cinema was made possible by the implicit trust the student groups had for public television producers. Listen to a clip below.

{mediaObjectId:'812BCD30D45A00A0E0538C93F11600A0',playerSize:'mediumStandard'}

Public Television to Build Investment in Local Institutions

In the 1980s, after public television had gained more traction, local school boards saw the medium as an opportunity to build investment in their schools. From Rocky Mountain PBS in Denver, to WCTE in Cookeville, Tennessee, to Southern Oregon Public Television and the New Jersey Network, school administrators found their way onto the television schedule. These broadcasts capture one local institution — public television — supporting another — the public school system — working together toward the broader goals of community growth and democratic citizenship. One of the values of the AAPB collection is that it does not just capture history from the perspective of major cities, but also from local communities across the country as they cope with new national problems.

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The broadcast “Their School? Your School!” calls attention to building projects needed by New Jersey’s public schools.

Excellence in Education Coverage

For years, John Merrow, one of the most well-respected education journalists, found his home in public broadcasting. Following the publication of “A Nation at Risk: The Imperative for Educational Reform” in 1983, television coverage of educational stories expanded. However, the education beat tended to go to entry-level journalists and had the distinct flavor of “youth at risk” sensationalism. Merrow bucked this trend with thoughtful commentary on the MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour and in his stand-alone documentaries, collectively called “The Merrow Report.” With his commitment to asking tough questions and following up on stories, Merrow set the gold standard for what education coverage should look like, all on public television.

These are just a few of the examples from the archive of public education reporting. But they reflect public television’s goal: to educate and serve the public. In pursuit of this goal, member stations have produced compelling, thoughtful local programs like these and many more over the past 50-plus years. This content is a gold mine for the historian.

New Online: Occupational Culture of Home Health-Care Workers

This post by Stephanie Hall of the American Folklife Center was first published on the center’s blog, “Folklife Today.”

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Home health-care worker Nargiza Turanova (right) being interviewed with assistance from a translator (left).

An important new oral history collection documenting the lives and careers of home health-care workers in Oregon is now available on the Library of Congress’ website. The American Folklife Center recently announced the release of “Taking Care: Documenting the Occupational Culture of Home Health-Care Workers.” This fieldwork is part of the center’s Occupational Folklife Project and the seventh such collection to be put online.

In 2014, Professor Bob Bussel and his colleagues at the University of Oregon Labor Education and Research Center in Eugene, Oregon, received an Archie Green Fellowship from the American Folklife Center to conduct oral history interviews with workers who provide home-based care for the elderly and the disabled throughout the state of Oregon. Bussel and his team worked closely with the Service Employees International Union (SEIU), Local 503, to record 35 in-depth interviews with home health-care workers, an occupation that was not previously represented in the American Folklife Center archive.

The collection’s interviews with the health-care workers took place primarily in the workers’ homes and at the offices of SEIU Local 503 in Eugene, Portland and Salem, Oregon, as well at as the office of the American Federation of State County and Municipal Employees in Grants Pass, Oregon.

Interviews were conducted primarily in English, although a few were conducted in Russian. Interviewees ranged from long-time home health-care workers to individuals who had more recently joined the profession. Many interviews also touched on the role of their union, SEIU, in training individual workers, establishing professional standards and enforcing equitable pay and benefits.

“Taking Care” is part of the multiyear Occupational Folklife Project of the American Folklife Center to document workers in contemporary America. Over the past eight years, supported by the American Folklife Center’s competitive Archie Green Fellowships program, more than 40 researchers and research teams throughout the United States have received funding to document oral histories with workers in a wide variety of trades. Interviewees include ironworkers, hairdressers, electricians, domestic workers, longshoremen, funeral home employees, trash collectors, gold miners, racetrack workers, tobacco farmers and many more working Americans from all sectors of contemporary society. Through the project, oral histories of hundreds of American workers — stories about their skills and work routines, legendary jobs (good and bad), respected mentors, flamboyant co-workers and more — are now part of America’s national record. These oral histories not only enrich our current understanding of our fellow Americans, but will also inform scholars and researchers for generations to come about the lives of contemporary workers at the beginning of the 21st century.

As American Folklife Center director Betsy Peterson noted, “With the launch of AFC’s innovative Occupational Folklife Project, researchers and members of the public will have direct access to hundreds of hours of compelling fieldwork. They will be able to hear the interviews and view fieldwork images and documentation that previously could be accessed only by visiting the Library in Washington.”

Learn More

Read about the history and development of the Occupational Folklife Project.
View a list of Archie Green fellows.

 

African-American History Month: First Pan-African Congress

This is a guest post by Ryan Reft, a historian in the Manuscript Division. It coincides with the centenary this month of the first Pan-African Congress.

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W.E.B. DuBois, 1919. Photo by C.M. Battey.

The problem of the 20th century is the problem of the color line, author and civil rights pioneer W.E.B. DuBois famously wrote in “To the Nations of the World,” the culminating address of the first Pan-African Conference, held in 1900 in London. Issued by the gathering of prominent black leaders from America, the West Indies and Africa, the address served as a cautionary yet aspirational statement: racism was a problem, but one the 30 delegates hoped to remedy as a new century dawned.

The conference was a first step toward not only uniting the black global diaspora, but also establishing a black internationalism that would come into its own in the years after World War II. The burgeoning political movement played a critical role in dismantling European colonialism in Africa and Asia.

In Feb. 1919, nearly two decades after the 1900 conference, the first Pan-African Congress took place, and once again DuBois was at the center of its proceedings. It was held adjacent to the Paris Peace Conference, the meeting convened to create a lasting peace following the Great War. The Pan-African Congress attempted to secure a place for peoples of African descent within the new world order.

The Library of Congress’ online exhibition, Echoes of the Great War: American Experiences of World War I, provides insights into the 1919 congress, which in many ways served as a model for future congresses, as a forum for uniting the global black diaspora and as a means for setting a course for black internationalism.

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A portrait of DuBois by the artist Frank Walts appeared on the cover of the Feb. 1918 issue of The Crisis, the NAACP’s publication.

DuBois traveled to France in Dec. 1918 as a representative of the NAACP, confident that the Paris Peace Conference provided the ideal setting for a parallel gathering of black dignitaries from around the world to discuss the international problem of racism. “Every attempt must be made to present the case of the Darker Races of the world to the enlightened public of Europe,” DuBois wrote to the NAACP’s board.

With the help of French parliamentarian and Senegalese native, Blaise Diagne, DuBois hastily arranged the congress. Unfortunately, few African representatives could attend because colonial governments refused to allow them passage to Paris; numerous African-Americans similarly failed to make the trek since the U.S. government blocked their attempts to reach the French capital.

Undaunted, DuBois, Diagne and 55 other participants from 15 nations gathered in Paris over three days in February. The largest cohort included African-Americans such as DuBois and activists Rayford Logan and Addie Waites Hunton.

The debates that unfolded were far from revolutionary and in many ways reflected both the diffuse nature of black internationalism and the Western biases of Diagne and Dubois. As a member of the French parliament and a beneficiary of colonialism, Diagne carefully avoided critiquing imperial France in any meaningful way. Educated in America and Germany, DuBois had absorbed Western thought in regard to Africa, and he never really pushed for the full autonomy of African colonies. Instead, he believed they needed Western guidance to bring them to political maturity. The system that emerged from the Paris Peace Conference reflected much the same view in that it failed to grant full autonomy to several former colonial states.

Some delegates to the Pan-African Congress were, however, more militant. They included delegates from the West Indies and others such as John Archer, leader of the newly created African Political Union and the first person of African descent elected to the English parliament. In a Nov. 1918 speech, Archer conveyed his general thoughts on African self-governance, reflecting the anti-imperial attitude he brought to the conference: “I am not asking,” he said. “I am demanding.”

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“The Congress is over. It was a hard job but of tremendous significance and importance,” wrote DuBois in a postscript to a report he submitted to the NAACP about the 1919 congress.

Whatever its flaws, the Pan-African Congress began the critical process of defining and implementing black internationalism. Three more congresses would take place in the 1920s, followed in 1945 by a Pan-African Congress held in Manchester, England. In attendance were African independence leaders Kwame Nkrumah, later prime minister and president of Ghana, and Jomo Kenyatta, later prime minister and president of Kenya, as well as the West Indian Marxist George Padmore. With a tide of independence movements gaining speed, the delegates called for an end to imperialism and for full independence. DuBois contributed to the gathering, but more as a respected figurehead rather than a driving force.

In the aftermath of World War II, during the 1950s and 1960s, much of Africa and Asia emerged newly independent. Given the agency of colonized peoples and the weakness of postwar Europe, imperialism no longer proved feasible. African-Americans, too, asserted their independence through the civil rights movement, with the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, the NAACP, the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee, the Congress on Racial Equality and others demanding racial equality.

The 1919 Pan-African Congress was a precursor to such international developments. Together with the experience of having chafed mightily under discriminatory policies of the segregated U.S. military during World War I, the congress instilled in African-Americans “a racial consciousness and racial strength that could not have been gained in a half century of normal living in America,” Addie Waites Hunton noted. The color line would continue to bedevil the West, and particularly the United States, but the stakes had been raised and the fight engaged. The results are still unfolding.

African-American History Month: A Forgotten Tribute to President Abraham Lincoln

This is a guest post by Lavonda Kay Broadnax, digital reference specialist in the Library’s Researcher and Reference Services Division.

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The Freedmen’s Monument. From the George F. Landegger Collection of District of Columbia Photographs in Carol M. Highsmith’s America.

Abraham Lincoln was fond of poetry: He wrote poems, read them, received them and was the subject of many. So states “Abraham Lincoln and Poetry,” a unique example of the numerous guides the Library makes available to help researchers find materials associated with Lincoln in its diverse collections. The guide includes a commissioned poem by H. Cordelia Ray, “Lincoln: Written for the Occasion of the Unveiling of the Freedmen’s Monument in Memory of Abraham Lincoln.” It was read on April 14, 1876, by the noted African-American orator William E. Matthews at a ceremony in the Washington, D.C., park, where the Freedmen’s Monument, shown at right, resides. It opens:

To-day, O martyred chief, beneath the sun

We would unveil thy form; to thee who won

Th’ applause of nations for thy soul sincere,

A loving tribute we would offer here.

‘T was thine not worlds to conquer, but men’s hearts;

To change to balm the sting of slavery’s darts;

In lowly charity thy joy to find,

And open “gates of mercy on mankind.”

And so they come, the freed, with grateful gift,

From whose sad path the shadows thou didst lift.

Ray was an accomplished African-American poet, a successful school teacher and a committed activist. She was born free around 1852 to free parents. Her father, Charles Ray, initially a blacksmith, served as a Congregational minister after receiving training at the Wesleyan Academy in Wilbraham, Massachusetts. He was also an editor and owner of the abolitionist newspaper “Colored American.” The family’s home was a station on the Underground Railroad.

At a time when doing so was uncommon, Ray’s parents provided intellectual opportunities for their daughters as well as their sons. Ray graduated from the University of the City of New York (now New York University) with a master’s degree in pedagogy; she was one of only three African-American graduates in her class. She also studied French, Greek, Latin and German at the Sauveneur School of Languages and earned a teaching certificate. She used her teaching skills at regional and national conferences for African-American teachers, and she was active in community building, being especially noted for raising funds to assist the New York Colored Orphan Asylum.

Ray’s poems appeared regularly in African-American publications such as the “AME Review” and “The Woman’s Era.” Eventually, she published a collection of her poetry, “Sonnets,” which received a flurry of reviews and high praise. She also received commendations from two of her contemporaries who were prominent African-American women writers: Gertrude Bustill Mossell (in “The Work of the Afro-American Woman”) and Hallie Q. Brown (in “Homespun Heroines”).

Ray’s poem for Lincoln was read on the 11th anniversary of Lincoln’s assassination, after President Ulysses S. Grant unveiled the Freedmen’s Monument. A plaque on it reads:

This monument was erected … [w]ith funds contributed solely by emancipated citizens of the United States. … The first contribution of five dollars was made by Charlotte Scott. A freedwoman of Virginia being her first earnings in freedom and consecrated by her suggestion and request on the day she heard of President Lincoln’s death to build a monument to his memory.

Soldiers who had demonstrated their capabilities and valor during the Civil War in the United States Colored Troops also contributed generously to the monument. They were very disappointed, not to mention shocked, when they saw the monument’s depiction of the freedman: He was portrayed as a man kneeling beside Abraham Lincoln and dressed only in a loin cloth. Author and scholar Kirk Savage addressed this controversial and racist depiction at the 2018 National Book Festival.

Even with the controversy, the dedication of the monument was festive. The National Park Service reported that over 25,000 people attended, including President Grant, his cabinet and members of Congress.

In addition to honoring Lincoln, Ray’s commemorative poems celebrated Frederick Douglass, William Lloyd Garrison, Charles Sumner, Robert G. Shaw, Toussaint L’Ouverture, Harriet Beecher Stowe and Ray’s father, Rev. Charles Bennet Ray.

But Ray was most well known for her Lincoln ode. Various newspapers reprinted or excerpted it, facilitating its popularity. Numerous pamphlets were also printed to provide a full account of the commemoration day’s proceedings. Despite being acclaimed during her lifetime, however, Ray’s work regrettably fell into obscurity.

As we celebrate President’s Day this month and honor the contributions of African-Americans to our culture and history, perhaps we can also once again unveil and remember one of H. Cordelia Ray’s most popular poems, written as a tribute to President Abraham Lincoln.

For additional material associated with Lincoln, see Abraham Lincoln: A Resource Guide. For more resources highlighting early African-American women writers, see Selected Online Works by Civil War Era African American Women or Ask-Us.

Rare Books: “A Child’s Garden of Verses”

This is a guest post by digital library specialist Elizabeth Gettins. It coincides with the posting of additional illustrations from the Library’s 1895 edition of Robert Louis Stevenson’s “A Child’s Garden of Verses” on the Library’s Pinterest site.

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This illustration by Charles Robinson and the others below are from the 1895 edition of “A Child’s Garden of Verses.”

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850–94) spent his childhood in the cold and damp of Edinburgh, Scotland, his dedicated nanny by his side, often nursing his frail constitution back to health from frequent illnesses. From a young age, these forced convalescences honed Stevenson’s imagination and gave him the time to perfect his skills as a writer. These early circumstances created Stevenson’s life calling as an artist and author as he went on to become one of the most beloved fiction writers in the Victorian era with his best-known works being “Treasure Island,” “Kidnapped” and “The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

A Child’s Garden of Verses  is another classic by Stevenson; in many ways, it is a biography of his early life set to poetry. Stevenson wrote it when he was 35 years old, recalling his childhood joys and cares. Instantly popular, the work went through several editions, and many of its poems became well loved, including “Foreign Lands,” “The Lamplighter,” “The Land of Counterpane,” “Bed in Summer,” “My Shadow” and “The Swing,” to name a few. The work is available in its entirety among a selection of digitized rare books the Library makes available on its website.

“A Child’s Garden of Verses” is notable not only for its prose, but also for its illustrations — it launched the career of an Englishman by the name of Charles Robinson (1870–1937). From a family of illustrators, he went on to become quite prolific, illustrating many children’s books. The fully illustrated edition of “A Child’s Garden of Verses” was first published in 1895 and includes over 100 pen-and-ink drawings. Paging through this digital representation, it is evident that Robinson excelled at intricate work and interpreted Stevenson’s poems with a stylized, fanciful expression that has a marked Art Nouveau flavor. Many of the illustrations also include elegant lettering, helping to meld the text together with the scene at hand. Scroll down for more examples.

Related Resources

The Library’s 1895 edition has been digitized from the Rare Book and Special Collections Division’s Oliver Wendell Holmes Library.
The Library’s Pinterest board features this very edition: A Child’s Garden of Verses.

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Inquiring Minds: Celebrating Black Musical Theater

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Ben West in the Music Division’s reading room. Photo by David Rice.

For going on a decade now, theater historian Ben West has been making regular trips from his home in New York City to the Library of Congress. His mission? To cull through unpublished manuscripts, personal papers of Broadway authors, copyright drama submissions and more to tell the story of the American musical.

Last September, West’s documentary musical “Show Time! The First 100 Years of the American Musical” premiered at the Theatre at Saint Peter’s in New York. Through live music, performance and historical narrative, it explores the evolution of musicals from the mid-1800s through 1999 alongside social and artistic changes. It is the first installment in West’s “Show Time! Trilogy.”

This coming September, the second installment, “45 Minutes from Coontown,” will cover the same period for black musical theater, celebrating the contributions of African-American authors who influenced American popular song while navigating an environment of racial prejudice. The installment’s title references the first full-length musical comedy written and performed by African-Americans: “A Trip to Coontown” (1897) by Bob Cole and Billy Johnson.

Next year, West plans the third and final installment, “68 Ways to Go,” about the history of women writers and musical theater. Here West answers a few questions about black musical theater and his finds at the Library.

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This promotional flyer for the “The Shoo-Fly Regiment” features a photo of musical theater pioneer Bob Cole (left). He wrote the 1906 musical with James Weldon Johnson and Rosamond Johnson (right).

Tell us about the origins of black musical theater.

The roots of the American musical – and, accordingly, the subset of black musical theater – reach back to the circuses, dime museums and minstrel shows of the early 1800s. In the years surrounding the Civil War, the musical form continued to grow through self-described “beautiful, operatic, fairy extravaganzas,” while the rapid rise of vaudeville in the second half of the 19th century proved vital to the development of the American musical stage and its early pioneers. And though black artists had been frisking in the footlights for decades, it was not until the 1890s that they fully broke into this burgeoning form, their entrance – or, perhaps, admittance – largely the confluence of two key factors: the birth of ragtime and the growth industry of all-black touring troupes. Both, indeed, contributed heavily to the creation and subsequent success of Cole and Johnson’s “A Trip to Coontown.” That there even exists a subset of the American musical specifically identified or characterized as black musical theater speaks directly to our collective social, cultural and political sensibilities, for this uniquely American art form is inextricably linked to – and irreversibly reflective of – the consciousness of its country, a theme that runs through all three installments of “The Show Time! Trilogy.”

What are some notable productions?

Throughout the history of the black musical theater, there have been numerous notable black-authored entries: “The Wiz” and “Noise/Funk” among the more prominent. “Darkydom” is one of the more obscure. Headlined by the young team of Flournoy Miller and Aubrey Lyles, the 1915 musical comedy emerged as a shining ray of hope during the dark days of the nineteen-teens. “Miller and Lyles have an important mission to perform for the stage and for their race,” the New York Age reported. “It is believed that they will take advantage of this golden opportunity and make good.” But “Darkydom” disappeared before reaching Broadway. Unfortunately, Miller and Lyles did not make good. At least, not in 1915. They would return in 1921 with a little show called “Shuffle Along,” leading a resurgence of black musicals on Broadway.

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The sheet music cover for “Alabama Stomp,” written by black songwriters Henry Creamer and Jimmy Johnson and interpolated into “Earl Carroll’s Vanities.”

How did black musical theater evolve to the present?

Black musical theater – and black-authored musicals, in particular – had its share of ups and (mostly) downs over the 20th century, all of which are detailed and explored more fully in “45 Minutes from Coontown.” To provide a rough overview, though, the legitimate black musical theater enjoyed 13 years of pronounced prominence following its launch in 1897, with more than a dozen black authors writing for the stage, mostly in the form of (early) story-driven musical comedies. However, between 1911 and 1920, it entered a period of decline. Down but not out, the proliferation of jazz and other social phenomena would result in a tremendous black musical resurgence between 1921 and 1935, with more than 20 black authors writing for the stage, mostly in the form of prescriptive song-and-dance revues. Following 1935, the black musical theater – and black-authored musicals, in particular – became especially scarce, despite the deceptive upswing of the post-civil rights 1970s. Beyond racism and opportunity, the novelty of black revues had worn off, and the advancing musical form found a conspicuous lack of black dramatists working in the field. The 20th century ended – as does “45 Minutes from Coontown” – with the emergence of writer-director George C. Wolfe. Between 1992 and 1999, with such seminal works as “Jelly’s Last Jam” and “Noise/Funk,” the visionary black dramatist brought new possibilities to the black musical stage, carrying it into a new millennium.

Which Library of Congress collections did you consult for “45 Minutes from Coontown”?

The majority of my “Coontown” research at the Library was done in the Copyright Office, the Manuscript Division and the Music Division, though I also ventured into the Recorded Sound Research Center and the Rare Book and Special Collections Division.

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The script deposited to register the copyright for “A Trip to Coontown.” It was date-stamped by the Copyright Office on Sept. 27, 1899. Photo by Shawn Miller

What were your most interesting discoveries?

While I happen to find nearly every research discovery interesting, one particularly thrilling find was Bob Cole’s spectacular script for “The Shoo-Fly Regiment” (1906), which perfectly illustrates how Cole so skillfully elevated and advanced the black musical stage, and why I refer to him as the father of black musical theater.

How would you describe the research value of the Library’s collections?

The Library’s collections are invaluable, simply put. The breadth and substance of its holdings are tremendous. And while “45 Minutes from Coontown” does not – and necessarily cannot – include every individual item of research found here and elsewhere, all of it collectively has been used to paint what I hope will be an exhilarating and comprehensive portrait of an American art form and its extraordinary, often overlooked architects.

“45 Minutes from Coontown” will premiere at the Theatre at Saint Peter’s on Sept. 12–15, 2019.