caschmidt – American Disasters

March 17, 2014December 16, 2020

A Comparison of the Johnstown Flood, the Galveston Hurricane, And Those Who Portrayed Them

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The narrative style Erik Larson employs to describe the Galveston Hurricane of 1900 is, at a rudimentary level, similar to that of David McCullough. Larson, similar to McCullough, does not intertwine footnotes with the text, which as Sarah and Emily argue discounts the reliability of the narrator. The Johnstown Flood however, offers a variety of accounts to provide balance and diversity to the narrative, while Isaac’s Storm emphasizes a dominant narrative fostered by other lesser accounts.

Science also differentiates the two novels: it was heavily stressed in Isaac’s Storm and nearly disregarded in The Johnstown Flood. The description of the formation of a hurricane felt similar to Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything, and I wonder if Larson would have benefited as a historical writer by implementing a citation scheme similar to Bryson’s (Bryson provides footnotes).

The residents of Galveston cultivated a feeling of security similar to that of Johnstown residents. Unlike the Chicago Fire or the Johnstown Flood, the Galveston Hurricane was not preceded by months of foreboding weather. Similar to the residents of Johnstown, the Galvestonians were accustomed to small floods, and severely doubted the likelihood of anything a disaster. However, I believe Johnstown residents to be more ignorant of potential threat, due to a history of flooding and the poor location, than Galveston residents, who had never experienced a hurricane before. Instead of placing partial blame on Galvestonians, Larson expresses his disappointment in the United States Weather Bureau’s confidence and the Cuban weather cable ban. Further, he places blame much more indiscreetly on authorities, including Isaac. Larson transforms the principal character, Isaac, into an antagonist by noting the observation of a decreasing barometric pressure yet neglecting to warn people.

However, all this being said, it is easier to criticize the inaction of meteorologists knowing what we know now about weather patterns and the outcome of the hurricane. AJ phrased it well in his post: “The era that this event occurred in, the way people went about handling the situation and the eventual misjudged outcome, I believe explains a lot about where disaster preparedness was at the time and showed Americans what desperately needed to change.” I understand why Isaac trusted his former knowledge and dismissed the threat of catastrophe.

March 10, 2014December 16, 2020

The Great Flood: Moralizing the City or Unjustly Punishment?

In the second section of our reading of The Johnstown Flood, McCullough breaks his flow of describing the socio-economic and cultural factors that shaped Johnstown and South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club and the deficiencies that led to the dam’s collapse. Although I thought these were the only towns associated with the great flood, the second section describes every community in between that disintegrated as well. Before reading about the other communities, I pictured water gradually pouring into Johnstown. I hadn’t conceptualized a wave until I read narrative after narrative of those who survived the wave and those who fell victim to the wave.

The tidal wave that collected “several hundred freight cars, a dozen or more locomotives, passenger cars, nearly a hundred more houses, and quite a few human corpses” reminded me of the religious undertones of Father Peter Pernin and the religious concentration of “Faith and doubt: the imaginative dimensions of the Great Chicago Fire” in discourse about the Chicago Fire. McCullough does not declare those who died to be sinners, nor does he directly assign blame for the cause of the dam breaking, but this lack of blame may be interpreted as a flood sent by God. “But he had gone only a short way when he saw the wave, almost on top of him, demolishing everything, and he knew he could never make it” (161). This is similar to CT’s post about God’s choice to demolish Chicago.

Most religions have a flood narrative, whether as a cosmology or an act of purification, and this wave’s chaos could have described a purification act: “everyone heard shouting and screaming, the earsplitting crash of buildings going down, glass shattering, and the sides of houses ripping apart. Some people would later swear they heard factory whistles screeching frantically and church bells ringing” (145). I am only further convinced after reading the descriptive imagery of the St. John’ Catholic Church spires catch fire and fall off (169).

I am interested to continue reading and see how McCullough ties everything together, and if he ever directly blames one group of people for this disaster. I also wonder if he will describe who is financially responsible, and who will pay for the farmland and houses that were swept away.

February 26, 2014December 16, 2020

“Fire!” in a Theater: The Human Responsibility of “Natural” Disasters

Historical Background

900 audience members filled the Brooklyn Theater on December 5, 1876 to watch Kate Claxton and Harry S. Murdock perform The Two Orphans. Shortly after the performance began, a gaslight set fire to extra scenery behind the stage and soon spread throughout the theater. After an audience member shouted, “Fire!” and the management realized they did not have fire hoses or water buckets, or fire escapes from the balconies, chaos ensued. Some escaped, but 295 people met their deaths either by burns and smoke inhalation or being trampled to death. When firefighters were finally able to enter the building, they found bodies melted together and 100 victims were burned so badly they were unidentifiable. The city of Brooklyn remembers the victims through a 30-foot-high granite memorial.[1]

Historical Questions to be Asked and Examined:

While the lack of fire hoses, water buckets, and fire escapes may not have directly spread the fire, they also did not aid those seeking safety. Additionally, the minimal number of exits created a panic that caused a stampede. Therefore, I hope to investigate the extent of damage and deaths that resulted due to human planning. Unlike the Chicago Fire of 1871, which was amplified by the preceding dry season, the Brooklyn Theater Fire of 1876 occurred in a human constructed and monitored building. How many died at the hands of the fire versus the hands of panic and does this make it easier to place blame? Looking beyond this disaster, what was the role of the Brooklyn Theater Fire of 1876 in creating safety measures in public spaces, and fire precautions?

Potential Primary Sources:

One heading of the Davidson College history department’s research guide on the library website is called “U.S. newspapers: 18^th-20^th century, multi-title collections.” It lists four databases to search newspapers published during the 19^th century. I think newspapers are the quickest and easiest way to understand how New York as well as cities that are not New York report this disaster as news, opinion columns, and images. In these articles, I hope to learn about sources of aid, sentiments about management, and comparisons to similar disasters. The history department’s research guide also lists book and pamphlet collections, which will take more time to review, but will provide more significant narratives. I have looked through the available diaries and journal entries, but none list matches for this incident.

After creating my collection of primary sources I will begin to rely on secondary sources that describe the safety measures taken by different theaters in comparison to Brooklyn Theater as well as safety measures established after this fire to help me determine if the Brooklyn Theater Fire was preventable.

[1] “This Day in History: December 5, 1876: Hundreds die in Brooklyn theater fire,” History.com, Accessed February 20, 2014, http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/hundreds-die-in-brooklyn-theater-fire

February 19, 2014December 16, 2020

Flood Versus Disaster: The Creation of the Johnstown Flood of 1889

The Johnstown Flood of 1889 is an “accident” that draws parallels to the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 because of human interaction with and development of the land, and human hesitation to acknowledge the preceding signs. McCullough’s geological notes regarding the speed of urbanization and tree removal on hill slope porosity describe how the development of the city quickened the speed at which the water arrived in Johnstown. This is a common problem that continues into today. Historically, rivers have big floods every 10 years, and massive floods every 100 years that widen and extend the river channel. The flood is severe, but afterwards the land gets to rest for the next 100 years. Urbanization messes up this cycle by making rainfall reach river channels quicker, and therefore increasing the volume of water in the riverbed in a shorter amount of time. The rapid industrialization of steel mills and subsequent population boom in Johnstown after the canal construction reduced the time it took water to reach the city and exacerbated the flood.

Similar to how Pernin and Smith note the small fires that broke out before the Great Fire, McCullough notes the heavy rain that occurred months before the Great Flood. Additionally, McCullough observes that in 1864 the dam broke for the first time. As Sarah points out, neglect of dam maintenance led to the eventual collapse, but the growth of the city led to a higher death toll. While the people of Johnstown did not doubt the potential of flooding, they had grown accustomed to this scare. For these two reasons: urbanization and precipitation patterns, I cannot place all the blame on the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Elite.

It is frustrating to read about the ironies McCullough presents, including the capitalists vacationing to South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club in order to free their cluttered minds from work; and how the capitalists, who commanded and encouraged construction of the dam, were not physically affected with the eventual collapse of the dam, however this disaster did not lie entire in the hands of the rich.

February 12, 2014December 16, 2020

The Great Chicago Fire: Recovery and Retaliation

Carl Smith writes that the Chicago Fire of 1871 invigorated the religiousness of the city and created an increased awareness of social order in “Faith and Doubt”. While he does supply various examples to support both arguments, the theme most apparent to me was that the Great Fire reinforced classism by allowing white Christian males to dominate the reconstruction of the city.

The religious writing after this disaster probably stemmed from account’s like Father Peter Pernin’s who acknowledged the Godly forces that caused calamity and purified the land. Pernin also writes that those who had healthy relationships with God were those who survived, which inadvertently suggests the reason he was able to write the account.

Many of the survivors, who became homeless, were cared for by the swift surge of heroes in the area. Chicagoans were willing to break into burning buildings, donate capital, and all the while maintain modesty in events such as weddings. As Smith notes, they “were eager to point out that the destruction certainly seemed to have an egalitarian disregard for class distinctions that was beneficial to those who seemed to lose the most” (137). Mortality-focused reactions to contemporary disasters have come a long way from the renovational attitudes that were that era. Eli points out “today, our public figures are quicker to mourn the losses than to highlight the silver lining of a disaster. Leaders in the Gilded Age, however, seemed to remain relentlessly positive in the face of disaster”

Boosters, a distinguishable breed of Chicago residents, would emphasize the altruism and recovery of the great city, however, whom were these heroes helping? The slums suffered equally, if not worse, to other neighbors, and resource deprivation led to unorthodox methods of obtaining help. The system is accustomed to reciprocating “‘thieves, burglars and cut-throats, bent on plunder, and who will not hesitate to burn, pillage and even murder’” and “rape, arson, and murder” with lynching and death. Instead of an age of religious renewal, it is more accurate to say this was an “age of terror” (148) mirroring the tragedies the north had fought so hard to defeat less than ten years prior.

It is not that crime is justifiable, nor do I doubt that in this time people were psychologically prepared to combat crime. Quite honestly, I am not sure how I would react if I were driven from my house, leaving behind material possessions, and later saw someone of a lower socio-economic status enter my house to scavenge through my personal items. It is interesting to reflect on the dimensions of “loss”.

This disparity between the promoted images of recovery and hospitality and the accounts of violence and corruption remind me Rozario’s article, “What Comes Down Must Go Up,” which describes the economic vitality of San Francisco following the Earthquake in 1906 at the expense of the lower class who could not afford housing and were forced to the outskirts of town.

February 9, 2014December 16, 2020

Salvation through Primary Sources

The social science students of Davidson often find themselves reading secondary sources to understand a critical evaluation of a fundamental document or theory. In fact, up until the assigned reading for February 11, the previous articles for Disasters of the American Gilded Age were not artifacts, but rather materials distorted to reflect the opinions of the author. Father Peter Pernin’s account in The Great Peshtigo Fire: An Eyewitness Account varies from these other readings because it serves as a participant’s reaction to an event he survived.

Through his descriptive discourse, one is reminded of the tragically humane aspect of disasters. It is less emotionally unsettling, and therefore more difficult to understand the extent of the disaster, by reading about “five acres of stores, offices, factories, hotels, and homes had been destroyed, and many hundreds of people were dead” in a secondary source than to read about “charred carcasses of horses, cows, oxen, and other animals” and “the bodies of the human victims- men, women, and children- had been already collected and decently interred-their number being easily ascertained by counting the rows of freshly-made graves” as phrased by Father Peter Pernin (Rozario, 72; 263).

This data is not without bias or personal opinion, which emphasizes the advantages of reading more impartial reflections by secondary source authors. One undergoes a spiritualistic experience by reading Pernin’s article. Eli describes the literary eloquence of Pernin’s account in his post and how this style “elegantly describes what must have been a horrifying experience for everyone involved”. Aside from the repetitive calls to God, the flamboyant symbol of the hellish fire taking all those who did not bathe themselves in the river is manifested as Pernin writes, “At the same moment I heard a splash of the water along the river’s brink. All had followed my example. It was time; the air was no longer fit for inhalation, whilst the intensity of the heat was increasing. A few minutes more and no living thing could have resisted its fiery breath” (257). Pernin expands on the baptizing characteristics of the river as he continues a few pages later, “I came out of the river about half past three in the morning, and from that time I was in a very different condition, both morally and physically, to that in which I had previously been” (259).

Fortunately, the religious qualities of “The Great Peshtigo Fire” are blatant enough that one can choose interpret the work omitting or including them. The reader’s and secondary source’s decision to interpret the primary source at will reiterates the importance of returning to the original data. In this way, the source being reflected on is not limited to the analysis of a third party.

I think Cronon would have appreciated Pernin’s account because, despite it’s artistic approach, he does not distinguish the humans from their environment. Pernin describes the animals’ foreshadowing of and reaction to disaster equal to the humans’. Additionally, he intertwines natural and anthropogenically-induced causes of the Peshitgo Fire, blaming the final product of a dry season and ignorance.

February 5, 2014December 16, 2020

Cronon’s Chicago

There are two approaches to understanding nature, and neither debates the inclusion of humans or cities in the definition of nature. There is the all-welcoming approach: nature is everything, and there is the nihilist approach: nature is nothing. Personally, I don’t believe the second approach because if nature is nothing, then nothing would be everything. An example of the interconnectedness between all elements on this earth, or nature, is sunsets which environmentalist William Cronon presents on page 73 of Nature’s Metropolis. “’Fancy the rail gone, and we have neither telegraph, nor schoolhouse, nor anything of all this but the sunset.’” But is a sunset any more or less natural depending on the “telegraph” or “schoolhouse”? I argue no. The sun slips over the earth’s edge leaving us, in our place on earth, behind. This phenomenon occurs everyday regardless of what tree grows or what electricity pumps through the wires. Does this sunset vary for the people of Los Angeles? The anthropogenic pollution may augment the light refraction, and make the sunset more beautiful, but it is impossible to separate these factors and produce the same result.

It is based off this concept that William Jackson Turner, in “The Significance of the Frontier in American History”, and later, William Cronon, categorize cities as part of nature. Chicago was able to develop because of ecological advantages that allowed humans to survive (glaciers in carved out lakes and deposited fertile fine-grained soil which supported grains and grasses which then attracted herbivores, omnivores, and carnivores). As Eli points out in “Chicago: the power of space”, the natural benefits boosters publicized did not seem to be so beneficial after all, as the city had to spend thousands of dollars dredging sand from the “natural harbor”. In this manner, nature can be both an attraction and a deterrent. Chicago is unique because it was about to thrive (not just develop) because of the transcontinental railroad. Contrary to Marston’s post, I believe Cronon attributes the rise of Chicago greatly to the transcontinental railroad (see Nature’s Metropolis: “Rails and Water”), while still acknowledging the environmental foundations that even allowed people to settle in this region. Without the railroad, the city would have had to continue to fight for its purpose, however there is a reason the railroad was established in Chicago and not in Minneapolis or Green Bay.

As a concluding point, when I think of the most “natural” place on Davidson College campus, I think of the Davidson College Ecological Preserve: 200 acres of “untouched” land. I think most students would agree. However, would most students be surprised to learn that these 200 acres are actually a second-growth forest, meaning that it is not the original land that was there 500 years before European explorers reached the new world? This ecological preserve also served as farmland, and potentially a golf course, before the school acquired it and allowed the native forest to re-emerge.

January 27, 2014December 16, 2020

The Benefits of Disaster

The detrimental losses and challenges of homeowners, widows and politicians after a disaster often obscure the disaster’s economical, historical and geographical advantages. That is not to say that the human aspect of disasters should be removed, but rather that those who study disasters should do so using two analytical methods: one which recognizes the immediate impact and one which considers the historical legacy.

As Kevin Rozario points out in “What Comes Down Must Go Up” economic loss is the initial stage, but economic growth is the latter stage. Similar to Sarah’s post, I also, find this concept strange. However, redevelopment of cities, through reconstruction and urban planning can adapt cities to meet the current more modern needs while bringing in jobs. Following the fire in New York City in 1835 property prices increased from $93,000 to $765,000. Additionally, the San Francisco earthquake and fire destroyed about five acres worth of property and left hundreds of people dead, but allowed the city to recreate itself following the Parisian model of transformation (Rozario). Given that this era was abundant in disasters and therefore demanding of reconstruction, the argument James Connolly made in “Bringing the City Back in” about urban planning in the Gilded Age gains credibility.

But further than Eli’s point in “The perverse and often baffling economics of disaster,” I believe disasters have more than just an economic benefit. In year 79 Pompeian citizens lost their lives when Mount Vesuvius exploded. Over 1500 years later archaeologists and historians excavated the site and made discoveries that have contributed to the modern understanding of the Pax Romana time period. Similarly the King Manor Museum (KMM) in Jamaica, Queens experienced a fire in 1962 that “damaged the upper floors of the manor house” but left artifacts such as “bottles and jars, household ceramics, flower pot fragments, tin cans, buttons, nails, bricks, animal bones, plaster and foil” (Matthews, 737). Archaeologists were then able to interpret these remains to understand how the museum served as a “center for cultivating elite women’s agency” (734). Disaster as a means of preservation seems contradictory, especially when descriptions of disaster include: economic loss, damage, emergency, tragedy, victims, and mortality rate (Hewitt). Maybe in another 2000 years historians and archaeologists will make discoveries about our society and culture based on artifacts from Hurricane Sandy or the 2010 Haitian earthquake.

January 24, 2014December 16, 2020

The United States of Emergency

I am greeted by the image of a New Orleanais kitchen in disarray upon entering the “State of Emergency” exhibit in the Van Every Gallery of the Visual Arts Center (VAC). The photo shows the aftermath of nature battling human development in the summer of 2005. Hurricane Katrina slammed the Louisiana coast, and showed no mercy for the city of New Orleans. The superiority of wind, water, and waves was demonstrated in several other works present at this exhibit: some resembled the destruction caused by tropical storms while others portrayed the inundation of urban areas by floods. “Flood Cubes” by Eben Goff is the piece I found to be the most visually and intellectually appealing due to its originality and candidness. The piece dually reflects on pollution and urbanization, two products of the anthropocene, in the Los Angeles region.

In January of 2010, before a heavy rainfall, Goff attached the clean chrome cubes (the same cubes that 4 years later were shipped to Davidson, North Carolina) to anchors fastened to the bottom of the Los Angeles River. The artist was familiar with the precipitation patterns of this region and anticipated that “winter rains are often heavier” even though “debris flow amounts are typically highest in fall after the dry summer months” (Eben Goff, 2013). Knowing this, he was able to set up the appropriate stage for the metal cubes to transform themselves into art.

The cubes are unique conceptually and artistically. Although originally clean, I find them covered in natural and “unnatural” elements, with only part of the silver metal frame visible. Part of a palm tree, or maybe a coconut tree, swings up from the clean wooden floor of the VAC to the top of the cube on my right. This cube has more of a mix between pieces of plants and plastic than the cube on my left. The frame of the cube on my left is facing me, so I walk around to analyze the part that is now covered in things “local” to Los Angeles. A surplus of yellow police tape is wrapped around the bottom, connecting the white plastic bag and red yarn on one side to the black plastic bag on the other. There is some grass and there are some leaves, but mostly this cube is covered in man-made objects. While scrutinizing this piece of art, I wonder at which point “unnatural” elements become “natural”. Does this occur through a piece of art representative of the things found in a stream? Does a stream become “unnatural” if it is floating down a cement riverbed? Successfully, Goff has brought two issues to light: urbanization and pollution.

In addition to the visuals on the floor, Goff provided instructions to replicate his work called “To Replenish a Flood Cube”. Replicate is not an accurate term because every cube is a result and creation of the most recent rainstorm and trash in the riverbed. Goff doesn’t edit the cube, but displays them raw and instructs, “receding floodwaters will reveal a Flood Cube replenished with a new coating of debris.”

In these instructions Goff also includes advice to receive the best results:

“An L.A. area rainstorm with total precipitation amounts of ½ inch will cause flooding of creeks, some major river channels, and is a sufficiently large storm for this sculpting process, however a storm with greater tan >1/2 inch total rainfall is ideal.”

Urbanization decreases the amount of time it takes rainfall to reach streams by removing the vegetation that normally absorbs this water. This rainfall flows more quickly over paved sidewalks and roads than it would through grass and forests, which creates more flooding in a shorter time period. Engineers paved over the original streambed of the Los Angeles River in 1938 in an attempt to solve the floods that had bothered the city in past years. Although Goff displays litter and debris to demonstrate the disaster that is our environment, the imminent floods caused by urbanization are what made the final product possible. This problem is not specific to Los Angeles: it is also portrayed in the very first image I saw upon entering the “State of Emergency” exhibit.

Site of interest: http://ebengoff.net/flood-cubes/

January 22, 2014December 16, 2020

Bringing Space and Place to the Gilded Age

This past summer I went to Santiago, Chile with my family before the start of my semester abroad. My parents desired to leave the city because they felt Chile had more to offer than a large Western-feeling space. To my parents, cities could feel repetitive (having lived in New York for about 50 years). Parisians and Romans may disagree but I found this to be true of Dublin, Ireland as well. Upon arriving, my family immediately wanted to depart for the countryside because we felt like the city was not offering us anything we had not experienced before. “Bringing the City Back in: Space and Place in the Urban History of the Gilded Age and Progressive Era” by James Connolly challenged my views of cities by bringing to light variations in spacial arrangements and “the specific history of social, economic, political, and cultural interaction that creates identities” (271). Many of these variations are associated with the Gilded Age and are distinctions that you might not pick up on if you are a tourist visiting a city for only three days.

These problems arise when people are quick to lump things together. Sherwood’s post questions, “Is the generalized overview more illuminating than the examination of a specific instance, or vice versa?” Rebecca Edwards in “Politics, Social Movements, and the Periodization of U.S. History” jokes about herself being a “lumper extraordinaire,” and although I admire her fight to rename history, I don’t agree with her oversimplification of history. History does not always fit neatly into years, in the same way spaces are created by cities. There is a benefit to classifying eras by the main components that make them unique, or their identities, which is reaffirmed in Sherwood’s post: “for the average students of history, there is little wisdom to be gained from the study of broad, general trends.” Place and space are typically geographical terms, but their concepts can be applied to history as well.