Primary Sources – American Disasters

March 12, 2014December 16, 2020

Remembering Disaster and a Historian’s Role

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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 5, 2014December 16, 2020

Close to Monongah, Even Closer to a Thesis: Research Update (3/5/14)

I realize that this post is a week late. I guess that the lack of assigned reading kept me from looking over the syllabus last week. Still, I figure that a research update could be helpful and maybe—I really hope it does—count as a blog post.

I’m currently half an hour north of Monongah. Initially, I had hoped to visit the town and see the historic mines, cemeteries, and memorials, but 6″ of snow and sub-freezing temperatures have kept me from venturing too far outside. Instead, to escape the cold, I’ve spent the last day in the warmth of the West Virginia Regional History Center. Though I’ve been able to gather some primary sources digitally, the best—that is, the personal letters, company records, and investigative reports from the disaster—are all housed in the Center’s archives. I’ve been lucky to peruse and photocopy the many of these. In addition to these primary sources, I have slowly been working my way through stack of secondary sources. I have found these to be the most helpful in narrowing my thesis.

Though my initial plan was to research the disaster’s death toll and the way it was falsified and reported, I’ve found in my research that not only is this question less feasible than other options. It’s also much less interesting. Plus, a number of scholars have written on the very topic in the last several years, leaving the question practically null and void. So, I have since changed my focus. By the end of last week, I had three “lenses” through which I planned to examine the disaster and find my thesis: gender, ethnicity, and class. Since nearly half of the victims of the disaster were either Italian-speaking immigrants or illiterate natives, uncovering the various views of the disaster from ethnically diverse perspectives would be unfeasible. Likewise, interpreting the disaster from the standpoint of gender would be difficult, considering the paucity of surviving letters and records of the women directly involved with the disaster, the 250 widows. So, by process of elimination, I have chosen class.

My research now focuses on the class tensions that arose during the hearings following the disaster and during the subsequent movement to reform West Virginia’s mining laws. Today, I read through the correspondence of West Virginia mining officials and Fairmont Coal Company owners to find primary sources from an “elite” perspective. Tomorrow, I will examine the letters and records of the miners themselves.

So, though I may be close to Monongah, I think that I am even closer to a thesis. Hopefully by the end of tomorrow, as I begin my drive back to Davidson, I will have stumbled upon it. Then, the process of writing really begins.

February 17, 2014December 16, 2020

The Power of Hardship to Unite

Chapters three and four of New Spirits present an interesting, although stereotypical account of the Gilded Age, examining ‘work’ and ‘money.’ The overall impression that these chapters present is one of hardship for the masses, from brakemen to cowboys. This impression coincides with the traditional reading of the Gilded Age as a time of corruption and big money, which directly contradicts Charles W. Calhoun’s call for a reexamination and reevaluation of the true legacy of the Gilded Age in his piece, “Moving Beyond Stereotypes of the Gilded Age”. Interestingly, this is a reading that Rebecca Edwards, the author of New Spirits, also calls for in her introduction. However, the way in which the chapters on work and money are presented adhere to the reading that she previously criticized.

For another class this week, I read primary source accounts of women’s lives in Germany during the 1920’s. What struck me was how much this reading echoed the New Spirits reading, providing key insight into daily life in the factory. Although Edwards repeatedly mentions the greater working conditions that Europeans faced in comparison to their American counterparts, the primary source accounts that I read told of hard work, long hours, and little pay. The comparison that I have made between early twentieth century Germany and America argue for similarities that unite beyond boarders and oceans, that unite people in the human experience.

Although contemporaries were unable to see or unwilling to act on similar experiences beyond international boarders, the power of hardship and shared experience to unite is prevalent within the United States, in the Gilded Age and today. Edwards talks about the mutual benefit associations that workers formed (67), as well as taverns as “informal working man’s clubs” (92). This can be extended to the booster vision of the Chicago fire, and their attempts to portray the fire as a uniting event. While it may have been exaggerated, there is usually some truth in every story. The shared traumatic event of the fire brought together the city, at least to some extent. To extend this to the present day, I will focus on the example that Nate brought up in class the other day about the snow storm that crippled Atlanta: while it was a hardship on everyone involved, the people pulled together and helped out. The power of shared experience to unite is strong, and has been traditionally under estimated.

I agree whole-heartedly with Nate’s point that “primary sources give us a perceptive account of historical events,” and I think the example that I have brought up on the similarities that were highlighted in the primary sources nicely illustrates this point.

February 12, 2014December 16, 2020

An Ideological Thermometer

In the wake of disaster, often our attempts at conceptualization provide valuable insight as to our values or belief systems. In the cases like Pernin’s work on the Peshtigo fire, access to one man’s beliefs, in this case Catholicism and God’s divine will, can be found in his attempt to understand his experiences. The Chicago fire, however, presents a unique opportunity to access the nation’s belief system due to the volume of explanatory work that grew out of the city’s newspapers, correspondence, writing from various other great cities across the nation, etc. Due to the sheer magnitude of individuals concerned with what transpired in Chicago and the volume of explanatory work available, we are able to do a case study of the nation’s maxims. Carl Smith’s, “Faith and Doubt” is an in-depth review of the two distinct ways that Chicagoans and others attempted to explain the significance of the Chicago fire. What becomes clear upon examination is that both these explanations are the result of the intersection between three crucial elements of American society: religion, class, and American exceptionalism.

The first method of explanation that Carl Smith describes in his piece is the view of Chicago rising from the ashes like a phoenix as a moral pillar that was chosen by God to uplift the nation. This explanation asserts that the Chicago was essentially baptized by the fire, and that only the most pure, most pious, most humble, and most hardworking of the population remains. It also asserts that God hand-picked Chicago to be this uplifting example, and that only Chicago could have emerged triumphant from a trial such as this. Also, this explanation posits that through her misfortune the rest of the United States could return to its philanthropic and giving core. Essentially this version explains the fire as a gift and declares Chicago’s future bright as ever.

This explanation is essentially an intersection of religious fervor and a strong belief in American exceptionalism. This explanation provides evidence that the country is still very much a religious nation, looking to the Bible and God’s divine will as explanation for misfortune. Their belief that Chicago was hand-selected and uniquely prepared to emerge triumphant from this kind of disaster – which is why God chose Chicago rather than say London – is indicative of this belief in American exceptionalism.

The second method of explanation that Carl Smith describes in his piece is the view of Chicago sinking into fiery peril. There is talk of God’s punishment being exacted upon the city, and a focus on the crime that runs rampant in the wake of the fire. They describe the fire as an act of Satan which was designed to plunge the city into ruin. There is the juxtaposition of “good” wealthy or middle-class Chicagoans suffering at the hands of vagabonds who are now free to enter the city to take advantage of its vulnerability. And furthermore, there is the characterization of the lower-class Chicagoans taking over parts of the city where they were previously not welcome as a result of their own deplorable way of life.

This explanation, like the previous one, utilizes religion to explain the significance of the Chicago fire. In this case, God is exacting his judgment against the city, and therefore it should be taken as a warning to change their way of life. It is even characterized as an attack of the Devil. The emphasis on the good majority of Chicagoans – wealthy and middle-class inhabitants – being taken advantage of by vagabonds – lower-class inhabitants – is indicative of class stratification. Catherine Schmidt talks about the element of class that comes into play in reference to the Chicago fire. The tension between the classes, with the wealthy dismissing the poor as dirty, conniving, responsible for their plight, and ready to steal from those who worked hard for their success, is very clear here. The tensions that arise along with industrialization and the urbanization that occurred as a result play out here.

Therefore, it is clear that the United States, at the time of the Chicago fire, was still a very religious minded country, that believed in American exceptionalism, and struggled with the intensification of class stratification that is born of the industrial revolution. Often what we learn from eyewitness accounts, and primary sources such as newspaper articles or pieces of art, is what those who created them were thinking. We learn about their fears, belief systems, hopes, and aspirations. And by tapping into a large enough body of these sources, we can almost take the ideological temperature of the nation.

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.