Frederick Jackson Turner – American Disasters

February 5, 2014December 16, 2020

Natural Teleology: the Railroad and the “Natural” History of Chicago

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Our readings this week bridge a divide that I’ve seen in our previous readings: a disjunction between urban, economic, and environmental history. Rozario overlapped urban and economic history, Matthews environmental and social history, and Schneirov economic and social history. In Nature’s Metropolis, however, William Cronon does not merely suggest where these subjects might overlap, but fuses each together, suggesting that just as an isolation of the rural and the urban is an “illusion,” so too is any division of these historical subjects (18). In Chicago, Cronon asserts, we see the rise of a natural city and, consequently, a unique, interdisciplinary subject of historical inquiry.

As Eli humorously argued in his post last week, Turner’s “Frontier Thesis”—while it was certainly significant to the historiography of the American West—implausibly treated the frontier as an omnipotent actor in American history that not only offered the natural conditions suitable for westward expansion, but served as a driving force for American democratization. Much of Eli’s critique of Turner seems to be Turner’s heavily stereotyped characterization of the frontier. But, as I think Eli’s quotations allude to, Turner personifies the frontier as one who “masters the colonist” (quoted in post). Its stereotypes aside, such a notion of the frontier seems contrived. While I can accept treating the frontier as a natural actor in history, I have trouble with seeing a place as taking such an active role in events. If anything—as, I think, the articles by Kevin Rozario and James Connolly would suggest—places can reflect social and economic changes, rather than direct them. In this sense, I think we should should see nature—whether on the frontier or in the city—as a passive actor, being acted upon and responding accordingly.

A Turnerian himself—though certainly a disillusioned one—Cronon adopts much of Turner’s treatment of nature and place as actors in Nature’s Metropolis. Chicago’s expansion, he asserts in his prologue, was foreshadowed by “nature’s own prophecies” and “expressed natural power” though the product of human ingenuity (13). But as Cronon goes on challenge what is, in fact, natural and unnatural about the city, I think we can begin to see the clearest depictions of nature and place as historical actors much like we might consider persons to be. As Sarah previously highlighted, the natural landscape surrounding Chicago directly influenced its development. From its central location to its proximity to Lake Michigan, the area in Upper Illinois that would one day be Chicago drew the eye and inspired the rhetoric of early “boosters.” But as Cronon highlights, Chicagoans’ struggle to overcome its natural disadvantages also shape much of their story. For example, to compensate for its muddiness, Chicagoans literally raised the city in its early history. What’s interesting in Cronon’s treatment of nature, however, is that, in addition to environmental factors, he treats economic and technological impacts as natural—he calls them “Second Nature,” whereby humans adapt nature form new environments. Such “natural” actors include an ever-expanding, national railroad network and Chicago’s economic alliance with the industrialized Northeast. These “First Nature” and “Second Nature” forces drastically influenced the emergence of Chicago as “Nature’s Metropolis.” What I found most interesting, however, were instances where these seemingly disparate natural forces converged. Cronon highlights one particularly interesting example of this phenomenon: the railroad. Economically, the railroad cut back on Chicago’s seasonal economic cycles and strengthened the city’s trading alliances with other regions. Environmentally, the railroad transformed and blended into the natural landscape. But the railroad was also influenced by other natural forces. In Chicago, proximity to Lake Michigan and the Erie Canal influenced travel rates, while its central location attracted both the eastern and western ends of the railroad web. In this sense, the railroad did not exist in “First Nature” or “Second Nature” exclusively, but in both. As Cronon writes, the railroad “partook of the supernatural, drawing upon a mysterious creative energy” (72). This, I argue, suggests that Cronon treats “nature” much as Turner treats the frontier—an omnipotent force as much as a historical actor.

So, in reading Cronon, how should we understand his Turnerian bias?

I’ll leave this for discussion in class. But—as I argue above—I think that Cronon simply recapitulates Turner, substituting “nature” for the frontier and endorsing a natural teleology for the Chicago’s preeminent rise as does Turner for American democratization.

January 28, 2014December 16, 2020

A Thank You Letter to the Frontier

Well after getting a good laugh from Caldwell’s post, which makes some very valid points on the lack of evidence and rather outlandish claims of Turner’s work, I do not want to add insult to injury and further coat Turner’s work with criticism. Yes, his work is somewhat glorified and possibly absurd; however, I do think some good came out of this work that is quickly noted in the post. I do think Turner accomplishes his goal of shining bright light on the memory of the “American frontier” and the history of the masses of those who courageously decided to pack up and head for the Great West. Yet, these points have been mentioned throughout Caldwell’s hilariously harsh historical critique so I won’t spend time on them. What I will spend a little time on is some of the interesting phrases I pulled out from Turner’s western frontier historiography.

Granted I do think many of Turner’s statements are beyond reasonable and he may have some misguided history of the west, but because I do not have much background in frontier history or of the great expansions into our new territory at the time, I am apprehensive to shoot down all of his claims. I find myself reading some of them and being intrigued to have this “frontier history” Turner wants expanded to shine some more light on his claims of significance. For example, the bold claim that, “Administratively, the frontier called out some of the highest and most vitalizing activities of the general government. The purchase of Louisiana was perhaps the constitutional turning point in the history of the Republic…” (10) This statement carries much weight with it and I would be interested to hear what past historians have to say about that as well as some men who held positions of office in the government before the time of the purchase. Besides claims such as those, I did find myself following Turner’s notions that the frontier was purely American and its Americanization began to diminish some of England’s influence on America. He states, “That fact is, that here is a new product that is American” and “Thus the advance of the frontier has meant a steady movement away from the influence of Europe, a steady growth of independence on American lines.” (2) I find this argument of Turner’s a little more evidence based than others he makes and also truly just finding it more believable and significant than his other bold claims.

With that being said, I did found Turner’s work extremely enjoyable to read one, because I don’t know much about the west and its formational significance to the greater picture and two, because of the consistent bold claims by Turner that seemed to keep me flipping the pages. Also, someone teach me how to hyperlink on this thing.

January 27, 2014December 16, 2020

The Omnipotent Frontier

There is no God. You might think that there must be a God, who created the universe, and perhaps drives its course. You might even think that God made sure you got that parking space in Belk lot. But he doesn’t exist, because the Frontier did all of those things, or so Frederick Jackson Turner might like you to think.

Clearly, I am about to add insult to injury by further criticizing what Cronon calls the “‘blood -drenched field’ of the frontier thesis”(157). Yet, because I read “The Significance of the Frontier in American History,” I must add my own two cents, which will likely follow the critiques of past historians. Clearly, Turner embraces a vision of the frontier that is heavily stereotyped, and generalizes broadly from these stereotypes. For example, Jackson argues that “the wilderness masters the colonist” and turns him into a man who “has gone to planting Indian corn and plowing with a sharp stick, he shouts the war cry and takes the scalp in orthodox Indian fashion”(2). This vision is so prejudiced and stereotyped as to be laughable, and Jackson provides no evidence that anything of the sort ever actually occurred. The multitude of examples of Jackson’s hilarity and absurdity would take a great deal of space and time to mention, but to do so would be neither interesting nor original. I will say, however, that the most glaring pattern that threw his thesis into question was that he never examined any individual, region or town to substantiate his multitude of claims; much of his evidence comes from people making generalizations, as he did.

More interesting than the opportunity to criticize Turner is Cronon’s analysis of the frontier thesis and Turner’s work. In his work, rather than in Turner’s own, I was much more sympathetic to Turner. Knowing little of western history and even less about western historiography, I can still acknowledge the truth of Cronon’s argument that Turner succeeded in establishing the idea of the frontier in the American memory, perhaps more concretely than it ever existed in the minds of frontiersmen. I also empathized with Turner’s desire, which Cronon describes, to write a history for the mass of people. Turner fails to do so, of course, in his frontier thesis, in that he ignores the native Americans, women, and others who experienced the frontier; yet, his work seems like an attempt in that direction.

I also enjoyed reading about how Turner’s work “codified the central narrative structure which has helped organize American history ever since”(166). Certainly, such an impact seems both positive and significant (high praise, considering Turner’s love of ‘significance.’). In the end, I must apologize for my rude mocking of Turner’s argument which ascribes so much to the frontier: he was a storyteller, and his efforts to contribute to history were certainly successful, even if his ideas were sometimes outlandish or unsubstantiated.

As the first poster for last week’s post, I have been widely commented on and cited, appropriately for a historian of my eminence. First, I think that Catherine’s expansion of my point (which, oddly, I don’t believe to be the point that I actually made) that disasters have archeological benefit is interesting. I am loathe to claim that any loss of human life could be considered beneficial, even if it does result in great learning for later generations. Yet, we must acknowledge the transience of human life; perhaps it is acceptable that some of the myriad fleeting lives of the past ended disastrously to teach us something.

Furthermore, I question Sarah’s argument that capitalism is not as destructive as I claim it to be. We constantly see the ways in which capitalism destroys in order to create. Think about the way that corporations, once the mightiest in the nation, fall by the wayside as others replace them: Sears fell as Walmart consumed it, and Amazon forced Walmart to adapt, and others will soon take their place. Standard Oil and its progeny, ExxonMobil being the most prominent, will die as humans shift from fossil fuels to renewable energy. Or look past corporations, to the ways that capitalism consumes resources: the very measurement of a nation’s wealth is GDP, which is not measured by our happiness, or the sum of items we possess, or our savings, but by what we have consumed this year. Capitalism destroys resources, though it certainly drives progress; however, a critical examination of that progress and its direction–and the associated cost–is the duty of every citizen.

In conclusion, just remember to thank the frontier when you get that parking spot next time.