sawalters – American Disasters

April 6, 2014December 16, 2020

Research Update and Addition to March 10 Blog Post

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Research Update

I’m looking at the 1886 Charleston Earthquake. Right now, I’ve found quite a few newspaper reports on the disaster. They contain interesting points that seem to relate to larger themes about the earthquake. For instance, the newspaper article I analyzed for suggested that Charleston was ready to rebuild immediately after the disaster. The city also wanted to assure outsiders that the economy—primarily port-based shipping—was not damaged by the earthquake.

Underneath all this optimism though, there are some hints at racial tension. The paper linked an incident of a landlord evicting a tenant for not paying immediately after the earthquake to race; the tenant happened to be African-American. This ties into what I have seen in secondary sources about the earthquake exacerbating racial tension. I also found this to be a theme that runs across many of the disasters we have studied. Like Biel suggests, disasters don’t necessarily cause societal change, but they do reveal fissures in society.

There are primary sources like diaries that I have found about the earthquake. Unfortunately, some of the diaries are not digitized. I’d have to travel to actually access them. I’ll continue searching though for primary sources I can actually read.

Addendum to March 10 “Fire and Water: Comparing the Great Chicago Fire with the Johnstown Flood Blog Post:

As for comparing the lack of crime in Johnstown with the crime in Chicago, I think there may have been several reasons for the differences. First, Johnstown was basically inaccessible after the flood, whereas criminals could get into Chicago. Second, the flood may have permanently destroyed things of worth in Johnstown. For instance, safes could have been buried under flooded houses by the water. The fire, on the other hand—while it obviously burned many things—left more valuables like safes out in the open; in fact, it made it easier to open them. Finally, Chicago has more wealth than Johnstown did. Johnstown was primarily a lower class town, so there would have been less to steal in Johnstown than in Chicago.

March 12, 2014December 16, 2020

Remembering Disaster and a Historian’s Role

A historian analyzes sources and weighs their reliability and accuracy. Emily notes, “David McCullough has been critiqued by historians for not being a ‘real’ or ‘serious’ historian.” While McCullough’s Johnstown Flood is not a “typical” scholarly work, he does occasionally critique or correct stories about the Johnstown flood. For instance at the beginning of chapter 7, McCullough writes that, “Some survivors, years later, would swear it had been a bright, warm morning, with a spotless blue sky” (183). In reality, the weather was “foul” (184). In this instance, people have constructed a memory they honestly think they experience. It is a reminder that diaries and personal accounts, while probably not intentionally lying, may misremember the actual event. With “every one of them[survivors]…brimful of tales of his experiences,” there are bound to be mis-recalled facts or invented memories (207).

Another way facts are skewed is through willfully fabricated details. Much of this fabrication seems to occur in connection with the media. For instance, McCullough writes, “whatever the reporters may have lacked in the way of facts, they made up for in imagination” (220). Sometimes a competing agenda—whether it is selling more newspapers or maybe embellishing a story for appearances’ sake—can cause people to alter the facts.

Besides these two quotes being instances of unreliable memories and accounts of history, they are also two places where McCullough does enter into a more critical historian mode of writing. He does acknowledge that some sources he used had inaccuracies and tries to recreate the probable reality. Of course, for a scholar, this little earmarks are likely not sufficient. McCullough does not give specific citations, nor does he seem to critically analyze every source. This is largely because, as Emily noted, his is a popular history for a general audience. The book can be more entertaining than a theoretical and technical treatise. It can bring historical events, as Emily argues, “to a broader audience than would otherwise be exposed to it.” I wonder if there could ever be a combination of these two tracks? A rigorous, researched, and critical work that is not dry or inaccessible and still manages to entertain? This reminds me a bit of Robert Fisk’s “Let us rebel against poisonous academics and their preposterous claptrap of exclusion.” Essentially, Fisk argues that academics have set up obscure language and certain standards that say “Keep Out…This Is Something You[non-academics/the general population] Are Not Clever Enough to Understand.” Could there be a balance to these two sides or popular literature and scholarly work? Maybe McCullough’s story could stand as it is, but in the back there is a list of sources and the decisions McCullough made about what to include and why? Granted, the work would be extraordinarily long, but it would allow the readers to choose how much they wish to engage in the work. They can simply read the popular story or they may dive into the thought process and analysis behind the work and research.

March 10, 2014December 16, 2020

Fire and Water: Comparing the Great Chicago Fire with the Johnstown Flood

In some ways, the Johnstown Flood parallels with the Great Chicago fire. There is an element of human neglect and fallibility that contributed to the disasters; Chicago buildings were primarily made of wood or hastily constructed and the dam near Johnstown was not properly maintained. Then there were a few warning signs. Chicago had experienced drought and smaller fires cropped up periodically. Although “most never saw it coming,” some people around Johnstown did get warnings like George Fisher or the engineer trying to decide whether to move his train (143; 102-103). Nature also plays a role in the disasters. In the Chicago fire, winds helped to spread the fire. In the Johnstown flood, torrential downpour broke the dam. Many reactions to the dam’s breaking were similar to the fire in Chicago or the Peshtigo fire. People ran everywhere, shouting in total chaos, as H.M. Bennent observes (104). People tried to outrun the wave like people leapt in the river to save themselves from the fire. As Caschmidt notes, some people attributed these disasters to divine punishment or reward. Father Pernin ties religion into the Great Peshtigo Fire. Some Johnstown people also tied religion to the flood. As Gertrude said, the flood looked “like the Day of Judgment I had seen as a little girl in Bible histories” (161).

One difference between the Great Chicago fire and the Johnstown Flood was the amount of criminal activity. A drawing in McCullough’s book shows criminals robbing the dead (143). The press circulated wild stories about criminals and pillaging. These were soon disproved. Stories about Chicago crime were also fabricated. As jomarsh says “By sensationalizing the ways in which the fire destroyed class boundaries, writers reminded other members of the American upper class that their position, like these Chicagoans…were in constant jeopardy to the whims of God, Nature, and the subsequent horrors of the class intermingling so well represented by the, often fabricated, stories of crime during the fire.” Yet, I can’t help but imagine some of the crime stories in Chicago were true. Personal letters I read on the Great Chicago Fire website described criminals coming into town to take advantage of burned safes. Furthermore, a death proclamation to shoot criminals on sight was instituted. I wonder if there actually was some crime in Johnstown, despite McCullough’s dismissal? Perhaps Johnstown’s location or the nature of the disaster did not lend itself to profitable crimes?

February 25, 2014December 16, 2020

Charleston Earthquake Project Proposal

Sarah Walters

Disasters in the Gilded Age

Final Project Proposal

February 21, 2014

Shaking Stone, Support, and Sickness: The 1886 Charleston Earthquake

For my final paper, I would like to focus on the 1886 Charleston Earthquake. I’m interested in the topic because I have always lived in the South, Charleston is probably one of my favorite cities, and many Gilded Age disasters seem to be somewhat concentrated in the North and Midwest rather than the South. I also find the disaster compelling because it seemed so unexpected. In contrast with the Peshtigo and Chicago fires, where small fires had been cropping up constantly, Charleston did not necessarily expect an earthquake. Already troubled by Reconstruction, economic troubles, and a hurricane the previous year, Charleston was hit by an earthquake of a magnitude between 6.6 and 7.3 on the Richter scale in 1886. It was one of the most severe earthquakes to ever hit the southeastern United States. Previously, Charleston had experienced very little seismic activity. The earthquake seemed to be rather unexpected.

How did the structure and architecture of Charleston affect the amount of damage in the 1886 earthquake? From preliminary research, it seems like the amount of stone and brick buildings in Charleston created more damage; wooden buildings were more likely to sway with the earth. I found this to be an interesting contrast with the Great Chicago fire and all the wooden structures that increased the amount of damage. For this question, I might look at photographs of the disaster, tallies of the extent and location of damage, and perhaps personal letters describing the aftermath of the earthquake.

How did Charleston recover from the damage—specifically, where did support come from and why? I could consider state and federal records to see if government support was sent. I might also look at newspapers to see how widespread the coverage of the earthquake was and the amount of response. From my initial research, it appears like most of Charleston’s financial support came from private sources. Yet even without state and federal support, many sources suggested Charleston made a rapid recovery. Sometimes it appeared the city repaired itself more quickly than other disaster-stricken areas that did receive government support.

Finally a man named Ezekiel Stone Wiggins predicted that a disaster even more destructive than the Charleston earthquake would occur. His prophecy caused some Americans to panic and a few newspapers published his sensationalist ideas to grab attention. Other newspapers, however, decried Wiggins as a fool and made fun of his predictions. The expected disaster never arrived, but Wiggins highlights some of the fear and irrationality behind disasters. How did the Charleston earthquake psychologically affect people? I might look at newspaper articles on Wiggins or perhaps his own writings. I could also look at personal letters detailing people’s emotional response to the event. I have also found doctors’ reports of nausea, headaches, losing hair, and increased use of sedatives among earthquake survivors.

Update: I’ll be focusing my research on the last question.

February 18, 2014December 16, 2020

The Johnstown Flood

David McCullough uses individual vignettes to introduce Johnstown, the surrounding area, and the South Fork Dam. Contrary to my initial opinion, much of the disaster does not seem to be based on corruption in McCullough’s depiction of the event. The South Fork dam itself was properly built. It was created in the standard manner of almost all dams, involving packed earth. The engineers did a competent job. The only problem was maintenance of the dam. The dam was part of a canal that soon became unproductive when a nearby railroad grew rapidly. Attention was soon diverted from the canal and dam to the more profitable and useful railroad. In nakindig’s post it is written, “Preparedness, or lack thereof, is of utmost importance to preventing disasters.” So perhaps the dam should have been maintained and prepared to prevent a disaster. I feel I can’t really place blame on people for focusing on the railroad more than the dam though. I don’t think anyone willfully plotted to let the dam’s condition disintegrate. There is only so much money and time that people necessarily have to concentrate on the most beneficial thing. I’m sure there were other dams built in a similar manner that were also not maintained, but since they did not break, they faded into obscurity. Also it is unclear whose responsibility it was to maintain the dam. The state, the federal government, the builders, people who used the canals, people’s whose homes might flood if the dam failed?

Many of contributing factors seem to be other issues. First, the area is prone to unexpected rains after windstorms; the locals call them “thunder-gusts” (20). Johnstown was built down in a valley, a place prone to flooding. More people moved to Johnstown—which created more possibility for a higher death toll—because it was a growing town. Since the beginning of the war, the west opening, and the Iron Company moving into town, Johnstown attracted many people, McCullough writes.

McCullough also contrasts the people in the Clubhouse with the factory workers in Johnstown. This seems to align with “The Wedge” discussed in this post. Like Emily said her post “The Power of Hardship to Unite,” this poor mass against a few rich people seems to be a stereotype of the Gilded Age. I thinks it is kind of limited to group people into two categories. There are so many varying ranges of wealth, and not all “poor” people are downtrodden, oppressed, and helpless nor are all “wealthy” people evil, selfish, and destructive, not to mention all the people not neatly captured in these two categories.

February 4, 2014December 16, 2020

Natural Chicago

As jeatikinson’s post mentioned, Cronon describes the advantages Chicago has geographically as a city—convenient transportation, natural resources, central location, nearby bodies of water. This argument reminded me of Kenneth Hewitt’s emphasis on geography. According to Hewitt, geography is one of the most important aspects of a city. I think that jeatikinson, Cronon, and Hewitt all make a valid argument about locations being important. Unlike Hewitt though, I wouldn’t say it’s the sole determinant in a successful city although it is a major concern. Cronon suggests that geography alone is not the only factor, which I think might be more reasonable than geography and geography alone. He writes, “natural avenues of transportation might play important roles in shaping a city’s future, but the preexisting structures of the human economy—second nature, not first nature—determined which routes and which cities developed most quickly.” Jeatikinson also mentions how New York City has similar qualities to Chicago. It too served as a sort of gateway like Chicago served as a gateway for the west, as elcaldwell notes in his post. New York was a funnel for many immigrants into America.

Cronon’s discussion of what “natural” actually means reminded me of my essay on the “State of the Emergency” exhibit. I saw that even in seemingly unnatural disasters like Hiroshima, nature could still be affected. As a child, Cronon inherently called the rural farms “natural” and the city “unnatural.” An older Cronon wonders whether plowed fields are any more natural “than the streets, buildings, and parks of Chicago. For Cronon, humans have drastically change nature in both situations. This idea, however, implies humans are somehow unnatural. I think the distinction Cronon attempted to make as a child might be better termed country/rural vs. urban. It seems term “nature” almost needs to be better defined. Are humans not part of “nature”? I mean we are technically living beings and a type of animal, but at the same time, a railroad is not a living being although living beings create it. Some of Cronon’s argument makes it seem as if humans try to count new technologies as natural, for instance Cronon writes of “rhetorical mysticism when they likened the railroads to a force of nature, but there can be no question that the railroads acted as a powerful force upon nature, so much so that the logic they expressed in so many intricate ways itself finally came to seem natural.

Another point I find interesting in Cronon’s argument is about the far-reaching effects of Chicago. Chicago is removed from much of the developing West. It is not obviously tied to “the great tall grass prairies would give way to cornstalks and wheatfields, The white pines and the north woods would become lumber, and the forests of the Great Lakes would turn to stumps. The vast herds of bison…would die violent deaths.” Still, Chicago, according to Cronon, is central in all these events. A small pebble can create large ripples that hit the distant shore.

January 26, 2014December 16, 2020

Disastrous Capitalism?

In Eli’s post “The perverse and often baffling economics of disasters,” he examines Kevin Rozario’s “What Comes Down Must Go Up: Why Disasters Have Been Good for American Capitalism.” Rozario believes disasters may have positive economic effects particularly on capitalism. It does seem odd, as Eli notes, that a disaster where homes are damaged, property destroyed, resources ruined, industries interrupted, and lives lost may be counted as an economic good. It appears that any economic good may happen in the long run rather than immediately after the disaster. This argument reminds me of an article we read last week, Richard Schneirov’s “Thoughts on Periodizing the Gilded Age: Capital Accumulation, Society, and Politics, 1873-1898.” Schneirov credits much of the United States economy and capitalism to Civil War and Reconstruction. Schneirov does not state capitalism took off immediately at the end of the Civil War. Rather, the Civil War started economic trends that continued through the Gilded Age and Progressive Era.

Eli’s comparison of disaster and capitalism is an interesting one. Disasters, he writes must destroy things, and capitalism must also clear previous technologies to move forward. As Rozario puts it, capitalism “must constantly destroy to create.” I think the point holds to an extent, but capitalism and progress does not always need to destroy the past. Casting capitalism as a destructive force seems negative, and also belittles the effects of disaster. New technology often—if not always—builds on previous knowledge. Eventually, the advancement may come to replace earlier models, but it is not the same destruction inherent in a disaster.

Another point I find unusual in Rozario’s article is that many Americans have “a longstanding conviction that calamities are blessings.” Disasters are useful for exposing flaws in society and motivating people to address the issues. They can clear space for innovation. I do not entirely agree, however, that Americans commonly perceive disasters as blessings. It seems that people might have a tendency to be hopeful or optimistic; they must look for the best or the disaster could be overwhelming. The art on Hiroshima from the State of Emergency that I examined suggested this optimism. The pieces, while about something as terrible as thousands of deaths, held a sort of peaceful promise in their serene colors. Disasters are much more than economics; they involve people’s lives, hopes, and dreams.

January 24, 2014December 16, 2020

Art of Disasters: Elin o’Hara Slavick and Hiroshima

Ghostly outlines of ginkgo leaves float on a sea of blue in Elin o’Hara Slavick’s artwork. She creates cyanotypes of natural material—such as tree bark or leaves—that was hit by the bomb on Hiroshima. Her art touches on the natural aspect of disasters. In what seems to be an entirely unnatural event—a country drops an atomic bomb on the city of an enemy country during war—still has an element of nature. Furthermore, Slavick’s choice of subject leads to questions about how varying perspectives alter the meaning of “disaster.” Her art also brings a poignant element to the memory of disasters that cannot easily be expressed in essays on disasters.

When the United States dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima during World War II, it probably would not have been labeled “natural disaster.” It may have been a disaster for the thousands of people, or for the town, or for Japan. It could also have been an example of new technology or hastened the end of the war. Yet Hiroshima does not seem to be a natural disaster. Nature has not been an explicit agent in the destruction of Hiroshima. A bomb is not a hurricane, a typhoon, or a tornado. Countries employ bombs to wage war on their enemies. Man wreaks havoc on man, and nature appears to be far removed. Some scholars describe disasters as “entirely un-natural phenomena untethered from the non-human world.”

Slavick’s work highlights how nature may be an actor even in the most unnatural events and even if humans are discounted from the natural realm. In a disaster that seems so entangled in technology and politics, nature was still involved. Although nature did not contribute to Hiroshima, the bomb still disturbed nature. Slavick reminds viewers that almost no disaster occurs entirely removed from nature. Events rarely happen in a sterile sphere rather they demonstrate the connections found in the world. Perhaps Hiroshima appeared to involved men and technology alone, but Slavick has recorded the “Bark from an A-Bombed Eucalyptus Tree” and “Ginkgo Leaves from an A-Bombed Tree.” Those pieces represent hundreds of trees, plants, animals, and waterways that were likely affected by the bomb. Slavick strives “to make the invisible impact visible.” For the nature around Hiroshima, the bomb might be called a natural disaster.

As the trees around Hiroshima might count the bomb as a disaster, people themselves may have their own perspectives on Hiroshima. The Japanese and the people of Hiroshima likely count the bomb as a disaster; it flattened a city, killed or injured thousands, and contributed to Japan’s loss in World War II. For Americans, however, the bomb may represent an advance—albeit terrible—in technology, the probable saving of American soldiers from invading Japan, and the successful end of World War II. They may be less likely to categorize Hiroshima as a complete disaster. Slavick’s choice of materials reminds viewers of the various perceptions of disaster. For instance, there is a white shape of ginkgo leaves and the negative outline of the leaves in blue. The shape is at once positive and negative space just as disaster may be simultaneously “positive” and “negative.”

Furthermore, Slavick artwork portrays a view of disaster that cannot be conveyed in an essay discussing disaster. The art may be interpreted in multiple ways, which is more difficult to do in writing. The ghostly outlines may represent the loss after disaster; the artists depicts one survivor’s experience by describing “the disappearance of the world as she[the survivor] knew it.” Slavick’s art also points forward to the aftermath of a disaster. The memory of the disaster still exists in the outline of the images, but there is something peaceful in the art. Soft white and clean blue point to a hopeful future. Disasters will always be remembered but are also able to be overcome.

January 22, 2014December 16, 2020

Being a Local: Space, Place, and Economics in the Gilded Age

James Connolly in his Bringing the City Back in: Space and Place in the Urban History of the Gilded Age and Progressive Era discusses the importance differentiating between locations. Often individual cities like New York, Boston, Atlanta, or Charlotte get lumped together and described by a single general story of urbanization. Connolly cites a novel by Edward Bellamy, Looking Backwards. In the novel, the city named is Boston, but the description could apply to nearly any city. The main character meets unnamed workers; everything remains anonymous. To a certain extent, this picture is not entirely inaccurate. Cities and urbanization seem to increase anonymity. One may live in a city skyscraper and not know the hundreds of people who live around you. Walking down the street, people keep their heads focused on the sidewalk and do not wave to every person they pass. In a small rural town, on the other hand, one might know all the details of a neighbor’s life and walking down main street turns into long conversations about an ailing relative. While these images are obviously stereotypical, there still seems to be some use in generally classifying cities.

While this general sweep may be useful and efficient, it is also important to note that each location will be unique. Generalities are just that—general. Every city, every neighborhood, every block will have a distinctive flavor and feel. Indeed, some of the tiny differences may be the most important place for historians to examine. For instance, Mary Lethert Wingerd suggests that differences between two places may contribute to the development of the location. The usual argument goes: St. Paul possibly developed more conservative politics that nearby Minneapolis because St. Paul was composed mostly of a conservative Irish-Catholic working class where as Minneapolis’ Scandinavian/Yankee Protestants were less conservative. Wingerd says the difference might have more to do with the “civic culture” of St. Paul derived from the relationship of business and labor and the Catholic Church.

Richard Schneirov’s piece focuses more on the economics of the Gilded Age. He ends listing some characteristics of the gilded age such as social instability and capital accumulation. These are the generalities that Connolly talked about, although they apply to economics rather than cities. Economics might also benefit from Connolly’s location-specific emphasis. New York probably has a very different economic landscape from New Orleans.

In the blog post the Merit of Specificity, this central question was posed, “Is the generalized overview more illuminating than the examination of a specific instance, or vice versa?” I think this question gets to the heart of the matter. I would say that both views are useful. Generalities may be simpler, easier, and can reveal accurate larger trends; yet they also obscure individuals. Look at specific cases may be illuminating and more specifically accurate, but it is difficult to look at every single thing on an individual scale.

January 19, 2014December 16, 2020

It’s Not as Gilded as it Seems: Calhoun Revises the Gilded Age

Charles W. Calhoun, in Moving Beyond the Stereotypes of the Gilded Age, introduces a multi-faceted view of the Gilded Age. Calhoun thinks the Gilded Age gets largely swept aside in teaching; the period is just stuck between seemingly more important events in America’s history, such as the Civil War and the Progressive Era. What attention the Gilded Age does get is largely negative. Even the name of the age conjures negative images of an overwrought superficial time. Twentieth-century scholars named the period after a novel by Mark Twain and Charles Dudley Warner. Calhoun argues that, while some of the stereotypical corruption of the Gilded Age is accurate, the Gilded Age is a period of “substantial accomplishment.” Calhoun suggests he is not the only holder of this view. Scholars after those who labeled the Gilded Age work to reconsider the Gilded Age. There has been a general shift among scholars to reexamine the Gilded Age. They do not reject the period’s problems, but they also point to the growth of the country’s infrastructure such as public transportation, railroads, factories, the advent of federal regulation like the Sherman Anti-trust Act, and cultural figures such as Mark Twain and John Singer Sergeant.

Calhoun attempts to reevaluate the Gilded Age. He tries to paint a more complex and hopefully more accurate picture of the era, which seems to be an admirable goal. I would say there is probably no age that can be neatly classified negative or positive. For instance, Calhoun uses the example of Gilded Age politics. The stereotypical view held there were two corrupt parties that barely differed in their views. In actuality, many politicians of the Gilded Age “were sincere, dedicated, hardworking public servants.” The main point of the study of history seems to be bringing out the character of the past, without passing judgment. The character of any era will necessarily be complex.

The section of Molly’s post that laid out Calhoun’s implied questions helped illuminate Calhoun’s though process for me. She writes, “What are the stereotypes, why do they exist, to what extent are they accurate, and why should the nuances matter?” This seems to fit the format of Calhoun’s article. He talks about the origin of the term “Gilded Age” and some of the negativity around the era. Then he shows some areas where the stereotypes are not quite accurate. Molly is correct that Calhoun does not quite state why the nuances matter, but I think he implies that a historian’s role is to create as accurate a picture of history as possible; this means historians will often have to revise their perspectives.