the mississippi river at memphis also fits into a big narrative

We are now back in Tuscaloosa where I am prepping for not only this class, but "American Civilization to 1865," a course where I will, among other things, encourage students to think about the many ways we can ponder the beginnings of human settlement in the United States. To emphasize this point, the music that will soon play (it's being processed as I write) underneath this clip has the words "them seeing" in its title. It is one of those free Youtube offerings. The title is suggestive of how we must be aware of how our respective viewpoints are very subjective. Whether we consider the Paleo-Indians who arrived from Asia thousands of years ago or Christopher Columbus who arrived in the Bahamas at the end of 1492, we must consider broader narratives.

Speaking of which, I will be thinking of my summer travels, which concluded in Memphis and Southhaven, Mississippi. I've posted a short clip of the Mississippi River from Memphis. Many of the adventure-seekers who arrived in North America in search of glory and greater economic opportunity traveled along this waterway.

While in Memphis - a place to which I traveled to conduct two interviews for my research on the migratory patterns of African Americans to, through and from South Florida during the twentieth century. Yes,  I am finally working on something that gets me out of the nineteenth century, my comfort zone - I learned more about this city's history. Named after the ancient capital of Egypt, Memphis was incorporated in 1819. Notably, this city's African American population grew considerably during the Civil War because of the presence of Union soldiers. But a race riot in 1866 contributed to black flight from the area. However, even with the rise of Jim Crow law,  the infamous Beale Street was a hub for black-owned businesses by the early twentieth century. In fact, journalist Ida B. Wells co-owned an anti-segregationist newspaper that was housed on this street. Composed by W.C. Handy, a trumpet player from Clarksdale, Mississippi, the tune "Beale Street Blues" is a nod to Beale Street's storied past as an entertainment district for African Americans.

These days, visitors to Memphis's National Civil Rights Museum at the Lorraine Hotel, where the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King was shot in 1968, seem to become part of the past. You can detect as much when you watch how their exit from one theatre in this museum. Notice the turn of the century silhouettes before them as they walk. If this was the museum's intention or not, and I suspect it was, it's a neat idea. Again, the past is never dead. It's not even past, said Faulkner.

serendipity reigns in clarksdale indeed

Bill Howell, the innkeeper at The Clark House, the nineteenth century structure  that I mentioned in my last blog entry, keeps a blog. In fact, he mentioned our visit to Clarksdale in his most recent entry. Click here to see how he makes me sound professorial! Thanks, Bill (and his wife Madge who I did not get to meet). On his blog, you will see me standing beside my aforementioned "dear friend" Francine Luckett, wife of Bill Luckett, the Mayor of Clarksdale. We met years ago when I was a journalist. By the way, Bill ends his blog entry by saying "serendipity reigns." I'd have to agree and it does as much over and over again. Fran is an Ole Miss Alum and we look forward to returning to Clarksdale (because there will be no hotel rooms in Oxford) when Alabama plays Ole Miss on October 4! Roll Tide! :)

Innkeeper Bill Howell, Fran and John Beeler, Alabama doctor-person

Me and Francine Luckett, First Lady of Clarksdale, MS

on the issue of complexity and continuity in a Mississippi Delta town

The Clark House, Clarksdale, MS

Bill Howell, Clark House innkeeper

The original entrance of the Clark House.

After leaving Oxford, Mississippi, where I presented a paper at the University of Mississippi William Faulkner & Yoknaptawpha Conference, my husband and I traveled to Clarksdale, MS. During our visit, a dear friend pointed out a 19th century structure that seemed fitting for this blog. Again, I am deeply interested in encouraging students enrolled in this class (or thinking about enrolling in this class this fall) to always be on the look-out for how the nineteenth century urban space is still with us just as I did last year with another group of students. As I said - quoting Faulkner - during  my presentation on antebellum black-white intimacies this past Monday at the Oxford conference, "the past is never dead. It is not even past." Sure enough, I was soon standing in front of The Clark House in Clarksdale. John Clark, a native of England and founder of this town, began construction on this home, which is now a bed and breakfast, in 1859.  He had to suspend construction because he was relying on Northern workers rather than enslaved labor. Indeed, when the Civil War began, those workers departed. The complexities of his politics seemed interesting and made me want to learn more about him.

I learned that Clark had earlier done well as a local landholder and lumberman, benefitting from many things including his ties to James Lusk Alcorn, the governor of Mississippi, who was his brother-in-law, but also a coming railroad that eventually contributed to Clarksdale's initial growth when it was incorporated in 1882. As my husband and I walked around the downtown area we guessed that this city's initial hey-day was likely in the late nineteenth century before the boll-weevil arrived in the 1920s (that critter, the mechanization of the cotton industry as well as the "long freedom" - or Civil Rights -movement, contributed to many changes throughout the south).

The heartbeat of Clarksdale these days is doubtless Ground Zero, a blues nightclub that draws tourists from around the world.  In recent years, this institution figures into numerous signs of the uphill battle that Clarksdale and other towns and cities in this country face in their attempts to jumpstart new growth. Yazoo Pass, a local coffee house that is an easy walk from this nightclub, is another one of the positive signals. In it, blacks and whites work behind the counter, something that would have been unheard of during the nineteenth century through the 1940s when my maternal relatives, many of them sharecroppers, lived near this Mississippi Delta town.

Modern irrigation systems reduce the risk of drought in the Delta.

Bill Howell, the innkeeper, used a word to which I often turn - complexity - when he began to share some the Clark House's history. As we talked, Howell, a self-described bohemian who also runs a pedicab business, also used the word "continuity" to refer to southern history, the idea being this: there is continuity in the South's complexities. My own research on nineteenth century black-white intimacy reveals as much.  I nodded as he spoke because I believe there is both complexity and continuity in narratives concerning sorrow and triumph across the class and color line in the South. I think, too, about the Choctaw and Chickasaw Indians that resided in the fertile Delta before white settlement. I look forward to discussions about these words and the many aspects of emerging urban life in the United States in just four weeks. Yes, school starts on August 20. 

By the way, a mansion next door to the Clark House is on the original site of the Clark mansion. This mansion is named for J.W. Cutrer and his wife, Blanche. Blanche was Clark's daughter and the inspiration behind the Blanche du Bois character in the 1947 Tennessee Williams play A Streetcar Called Desire, which was made into a film in 1951.

gramercy park memories

A friend is visiting New York now and was kind enough to take a photo of this building in which I lived several years ago. At the time, I had no appreciation for the significance of the columns in front of it and how they help tell the story of tensions between the Old World and "New World." This building is located in Gramercy Park, one of the posher communities in Manhattan. Before this nineteenth century building was renovated and turned into a fancy condo, it was a women's residence. It was filled with students, artists and aging women. You had to be 35 years old or younger to get in and you could stay forever. Indeed, some of the tenants had been there for decades. There was always a waiting list. Talk about Old World, male guests were only permitted to meet you in the parlor or in the dining room where we had three meals a day on white polyesther tablecloths (plastic flowers were in dime store vases on every table). I was in my early 30s at the time. All I wanted was a safe place to live at a cheap price. So my tiny room sufficed while I lived out my dream of being a New Yorker before heading to graduate school. It's been eleven years since I left New York. I will always cherish the memories of how my worldview seemed to expand there, especially after the twin towers fell. My Moorhead, Mississippi-born mom often told me: "remember if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere" when I refused to immediately leave on the heels of that day. Who knew, however, that around the corner was a high school where I would briefly teach before discovering Deborah Gray White's now classic study on African American women in the plantation south. I was hooked and wanted to learn more. And after years of study, here I am in Alabama. PS The best thing about this building was that we had eleven keys to the park across the street. It is the last private park in Manhattan and thus has received a lot of attention for such exclusion. Only residents living on one of the four sides of the park and their guests are permitted to enter. It now makes me think of how the students enrolled in this course can expand their attention to "divided space" as relayed by Gunther Barth, one of the authors of the books we will be reading this fall. PSS Julia Roberts is one of the celebs who is an area resident. I never met her though. I did accidentally receive the mail for another celeb whose name shall remain unspoken. Her doorman was surprised to see me returning it. She didn't even live near the park, which is beyond curious. But that's Manhattan for you. You take the good with everything else.

blog image makes tumblr

Yesterday one of my photos was used as the home page art for tumblr.This image was taken at home with my iPhone. I was watching an episode of "This Old House" which focused on the renovation of an Italianate style home. The topic has resonance with nineteenth century urban life.

waterways key to our nation's capital

Original design of the White House. Library of Congress.

Since I recently mentioned how water is often essential to where people settle, I thought I might share something that was presented today on Writer's Almanac, my favorite radio show. Apparently George Washington, this country's first President, selected an area beside the Potomac as the site for the nation's capital because of the many rivers there. He did as much in 1790 when he signed the Residence Act.  Philadelphia was the capital when he signed the act and continued to be over the next ten years while the city, which was to be no more than 100 square miles, was designed. It was also to be located on the Potomac in a mosquito-filled, marshy area between the Anacostia River and the Conococheague, a creek flowing into the Potomac. Some may have had doubts about the merits of this area, but Washington did not.

In 1800, the federal government relocated to district. Having died in 1799, Washington never occupied the White House. John Adams held that honor, becoming the  first president to do as much. Designed in a Palladian style which reflects both order and classical inspiration, the house burned in 1814 after a British invasion, but was restored.

How much did this city, which was named after Washington, adhere to trends seen in other cities as the nineteenth century matured? For sure, as Gunther Barth tells us, it was a deliberately planned space. And further, as Barth writes, like the cities of  Savannah and even Salt Lake City, Washington D.C. stood out. Such deliberate planning seemed to run contrary to the promises of freedom that "doomed most of attempts to order public space" elsewhere.

"This Old House" features the Italianate style

A scene from "This Old House" this week.

I was channel-surfing tonight and was pleased to see an episode of "This Old House" that focused on Italianate-styled architecture. As I have mentioned several times on this blog, Tuscaloosa certainly has buildings constructed in this style, among them the Jemison Mansion. Receiving inspiration from the Italian Renaissance era, this style is a lot fancier than the conservative, more flat-faced Federal style dwellings built during the late eighteenth century.  Builders had to rely on local timber to construct such Federal buildings. Italianate buildings announce the growth of industry and the arrival of the railroad in mid-nineteenth century America, which permitted the transportation of materials and resources from elsewhere.

The episode of PBS' "This Old House" that I saw showed a restoration of a plain Italianate house, but also a fancier one with lusher embellishments like the tower pictured here.

One postscript: I'll be learning more about the Federal style as I prep for my American Civilization to 1865 course over the summer. I'll share some of what  I discover with students enrolled in "The Nineteenth Century City," too, because few concepts exists in a vacuum. Speaking to this point are words heard from the docent on my recent Chicago architecture river tour: "Architecture is a way for generations across time to learn more about one another." She was quoting architecture historian Vincent Scully. His words resonate with my ongoing interest in buildings. I think now about humbler structures like the shot gun house my grandparents occupied in South Florida when I was a child (so named because the rooms were lined up in such a straight line, you could point a gun through the front door and shoot out the back door). To see such a house across time during the 20th century was to know the residents were likely poor as to see an Italianate during the nineteenth century was to know the occupants were likely wealthy.

But wealth is not the only thing that determines how and where people live. The arrival of apartments in nineteenth century America, as Gunther Barth writes, owed greatly to a lack of space. We will learn more about this and other topics this fall.

the wonders of a river

Old World columns decorate this modern structure.

A view of the many bridges crossing the Chicago River.

This building curves along the Chicago River.

I just returned from a quick trip to Chicago where I saw a college friend as a means of unwinding from my work on a manuscript. During my visit, I kept my eyes open for anything that would push my thinking about this upcoming course.

Leander James McCormick's double-house.

While walking around downtown, I passed by a double-house once owned by industrialist Leander James McCormick. The house was constructed in the Italianate style also seen on Tuscaloosa’s DePalma’s Italian restaurant. The restaurant, which was originally a bank, was built in the 1870s like this house and Tuscaloosa’s Jemison Mansion. The double-house was built in 1875 after the famous 1871 fire that began in a Chicago barn. The fire has figured into many pop culture products including songs. During my visit I went on an architecture boat tour on the Chicago River and was directed by a docent to look west  in order to see a huge radio tower that now sits in the approximate area of the barn in question.

One of the things I was most struck by on this tour, which was sponsored by the Chicago Architecture Foundation, was how nineteenth century Chicagoans went to great lengths – literally  - to stop polluting nearby Lake Michigan by making the river flow toward St. Louis.  In doing so, they narrowly avoided a lawsuit by St. Louis residents who hardly wanted Chicago’s dirty water.

I learned, too, how Chicagoans across time have had a love-hate relationship with their 156-mile long river, which is interesting. This waterway was a critical reason why the city even became a key site. For sure, it was this river that drew Jean Baptist Point du Sable, a man of African and French descent who is regarded as the city’s first permanent settler, to the area in 1790. By 1837, the city was chartered and quickly grew.  The entrances of some of the buildings adjacent to the river eventually began to face away from the river, which was soon filled with debris and who knows what else. As the city gentrifies, new constructions, among them high-priced apartments, face a now-cleaner river. 

As the students in this class will learn, water is often  important to how people make decisions about where to build things.  Just look at the new construction in Tuscaloosa. A lot of such construction  - including the Embassy Suites Hotel - is on  or near the Black Warrior River!