Blog Round Up: Biography

"It's Not You, Stonewall, It's Me" by Wallace Hettle on History News Network here ponders the biographer's relationship to his subject in a whimsical way. What if you just find out you don't like your subject? This could be a problem, and many have asked me how it was that I made such a good friend of William Temple Hornaday, who has generally been described by historians as an argumentative, vain, whackjob who did far more damage than good. Moreover, he was a racist who panned every non-anglo race he encountered. His comments about the Irish really got my blood boiling. On the other hand, I found him very interesting, and, on many subjects, quite funny. There certainly was not a lack of material in his thousands of pages of letters at the Wildlife Conservation Society and Library of Congress. And, in some ways, I think he had a better plan for the conservation movement. I never remotely considered dropping him as a subject.

"No Biographer Could Possibly Guess the Important Fact About My Life in the Late Summer of 1926" on Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Blog here takes a quote by Virginia Woolf to demonstrate that there is a limitation to biography. Namely, we cannot know all about our subjects, particularly what goes on deep in the recesses of their mind. This was especially true of Chester Arthur, the subject of my first biography. He burned nearly all his correspondence, and his shady record has left room recently for conspiracy theorists to consider that he was not even an American citizen. There was one tantalizing letter among his papers that he received from Senator Roscoe Conkling. "A friend is at the Westminster," Conkling wrote in November 1880, "and it will be very agreeable to me if you will observe the fact promptly." (Chester Alan Arthur Papers, Library of Congress). The wording is curious and one ponders its meaning. This is only one of the many mysteries of Chester Arthur's life, and sits in that gray area just beyond the biographer's reach.

"Driving the Dissertation" by Alyssa Zuercher Reichardt on The Junto here ponders the utility of going where your subject has been. Francis Parkman pioneered this method of historical inquiry over 150 years ago.  In Barack Obama: The Story,  David Maraniss (which I commented on here ) literally traced the footsteps of the future president, as well as those of his parents and grandparents. Maraniss saw the landscape and interviewed many who knew or met one of his cast of characters. Reichardt drove through Kentucky, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, and Wester Virginia studying 18th century traveling routes. Of course, much has changed in the intervening centuries, but she felt that this trip did increase her understanding of her subject. I never followed Hornaday's path, which lies closer to Maraniss in time, but perhaps closer to Reichardt in historical space. By this I mean that there was little of what he actually saw left to see. I did see the Bronx Zoo, but none of the other places Hornaday set foot. The Iowa farm and Stamford home are both gone. Perhaps I could have gone to Iowa State University at Ames, but that seemed tangental and beyond my limited means, especially in the dissertation days. Trips to India and Borneo were so far out of the question that they did not enter my mind until just now. Besides, I don't think I need to get malaria in Asia to understand how crippling multiple fevers were to a young Hornaday as he stumbled through the forests of India on a quest for elephants. Perhaps in my next subject I will make a greater effort to visit the sites.

Blog Round Up: Professional issues for the Historian

"Size Matters?" from the Historical Society blog Here ponders the question of why history dissertationsThe Defiant Devil is a little over 200 pages of text.
are so large? In fact, history dissertations are, on average, longer than any other field in the humanities or social sciences.  My sense is that if the anecdotal evidence of declining attention spans is true, then, yes, it is a problem, and might further widen the divide between professional academic historians and the wider, non-specialized reading public. The comments to the blog posting are interesting as well. Some made the case that historians do suffer from an inability to boil down lengthy arguments to shorter, pithier examples. I know I have suffered from this. There is always one more fact, that I feel needs to be included, analyzed, and contextualized. Are other academic professions better at this? I cannot really answer this question because I have not read any dissertations outside of history. Some comments focused on setting some expectations for the graduate student writing their dissertation, such as limiting the page count. I tend not to favor such Stalinesque techniques. One comment noted that the dissertation author sometimes has to write for the lowest common denominator. In other words, that one committee member who wants a detailed discussion of the kitchen sink, or, who gives you multiple titles of books that you feel obligated to include in your analysis, even though they are not really essential to your work. Although the article focused on dissertations, I feel the same argument applies to many books as well. It is always a little frustrating to get through a good chunk of the book when you start to feel that it should have been a journal article, not a full length monograph. Some books are terribly too long. I am happy to say that

"Long Odds of the Tenure-Track Job Search" from the Chronicle of Higher Education here examined the intense competition for academic jobs. Sometimes the odds of securing the position you applied for are 600 to 1. In a way that made me feel better for not having one of these jobs because it helps me to explain this to those who perennially wonder why I am not employed as a full-time history professor. Those outside of academe have a hard time grasping the academic job market. I usually begin my explanation with a question, "when was the last time you saw a new college constructed?" Sure, there are some intensely for profit colleges going up, but the history is only a small part of their otherwise moneymaking ventures, such as nursing, paralegal, etc. Second, I explain that when one gets a job in a college or university, they keep it for life. This means that that position will not come up for hire for at least 20 years, and more likely 30 or 35. I then have to use a Supreme Court analogy to make this clear. Finally, I tell them that I have applied for positions, but have ultimately received a letter stating there were "75" or "210" applicants. Now, I will cut to the chase and respond that a recent study of the respected Chronicle of Higher Education reported that the odds of getting a job are as high as 600 to 1.

Shifting Baselines Syndrome

I have to admit I never heard of Shifting Baselines Syndrome before reading Jon Mooallem's Slate article, "The Last Buffalo Hunt." You can read it here: http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/culturebox/2013/05/william_temple_hornaday_how_a_taxidermist_helped_save_the_buffalo.html (and in the shamless self promotion department, Jon does mention not only my friend William T. Hornaday, but also The Most Defiant Devil).

Shifting Baselines basically means each generation redefines its "norm." The best way I can illustrate it

is to compare the views of an older person whose baseline dates back two generations and a younger man whose baseline is established at that time. In this case the older man is William Temple Hornaday, conservationist and first director of the Bronx Zoo. Hornaday was born in 1854, and grew up on a farm in Iowa. His baseline of nature included vast buffalo herds and enormous flocks of passenger pigeons. By the end of the 19th century both species were rocketing down the path to extinction. Hornaday played a significant role in saving the buffalo from the abyss, but the passenger pigeon could not escape the grim fate of extermination. By the late 1920s the seventy year old Hornaday was predicting the imminent demise of all wildlife, expecting nothing but starlings and sparrows would exist by 1950. At the same time he was writing his grim forecasts of doom a young bespeckled boy was growing up in Illinois. Describing himself as the "Great Naturalist," Ronald Reagan found nature to be an abundant source of wonder.
He liked to roam the woods, and, as he wrote in his An American Life, "exploring the local wilderness." (p. 31) These rambling adventures led the future president to comment that he lived a childhood out of a Mark Twain novel. Reagan didn't miss the passenger pigeons and other wildlife that Hornaday did, because Reagan never knew them. He created a baseline without the the species that defined Hornaday's. What Hornaday considered a loss was something outside the younger man's perspective, or baseline. I think this is an interesting and intellectually useful concept that I will think more of in the future.

The Most Defiant Devil is available for pre-order

My biography of The Most Defiant Devil: William Temple Hornaday and His Controversial Crusade to Save American Wildlife will be published by the University of Virginia Press in August 2013. Amazon has my book available for pre-order. I am very excited!  Here is the link: http://www.amazon.com/Most-Defiant-Devil-Hornaday-Controversial/dp/0813934109/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1367966730&sr=1-1&keywords=the+defiant+devil

Question for the audience

A question for the audience: Where do you draw the line between historical fact and artistic license? This question comes up most in discussions about films with historical themes, such as JFK or Lincoln, but the same discussion also applies to books. I admit I am a purest on this question and feel historical facts, as we can understand them, are always more interesting and colorful than fabricating information to add color. Edmund Morris's Dutch, a biography of Ronald Reagan, famously added characters that allowed the author the ability to provide some additional perspective.  Morris felt this allowed him to tell a better story. Like many, I feel adding fictional material to what is purported to be an historical account (as biographies are) damages the integrity of the final product. In Dead Certainties Simon Schama tells two stories. One is the death of General Wolfe during the British conquest of Quebec in 1759, and the second is a murder mystery revolving around the death of George Parkman, uncle to historian Francis Parkman. The historian Parkman is the only thing tying the two sections of the book together. In this case Schama  identifies his book as a novella, but he weaves verifiable fact with fiction. Nonetheless, I enjoyed this work, but I still wonder what was real and what was not. Currently, I am reading William F. Buckley's Flying High: Remembering Barry Goldwater, an account of the conservative movement in the late 1950s and early 1960s. In the introduction Buckley refers to the work as "reliable" but adds that it is "not strictly factual" (both quotes are from page xi). In essence, Buckley feels he has the spirit of the times, but takes liberty in writing conversations (although he defends himself in stating that these words fit the character of the orator as the author understood it). One wonders, though, where to draw the line in using this book for classes, research, etc. I almost put down Flying High, but decided to continue reading it because it is enjoyable. On the historical side, I will take the broadest message from it. Of course, works labeled historical fiction are a totally different beast. It makes no pretense to historical accuracy, even though many historical events are portrayed accurately in such works. I do find historical fiction a valuable tool to understanding the past. I believe that examining other possible outcomes to real events helps better understand what actually did happen.

Top 10 Gilded Age Primary Sources

Here are my top 10 favorite primary sources of the Gilded Age (1877-1900). Please let me know your

favorites.

1. Henry Adams, The Education of Henry Adams (1907). The grandson and great grandson of presidents, Adams had no use of an age that pushed him to the side with no afterthought. His "education" was in learning his place in this new and ever changing world. This very personal quest combined with the author's sharp and cutting wit give The Education its value as an historical text. On the hand, it also explains the book's serious limitations. For a lack of a better phrase it is full of piss and vinegar and has very little positive to say on the age or many of the people in it. In that sense it is like reading Allen Nevins's biography of Hamilton Fish or Matthew Josephson's, The Robber Barons in that for all their insights, all you come away thinking after reading them, is thank God I did not live between 1877 and 1900.

2. Horatio Alger, Ragged Dick (1868).  Classic pull-yourself-up-from-the-boot-straps stuff. The poor are poor because they deserve to be. One has to work to succeed, as it should be. Perseverance, thrift, and constant improvement are the themes. Alger's success as a single theme writer demonstrates the power of that theme during this period.

3. Edward Bellamy, Looking Backward (1888). I know, another less than surprising pick. Bellamy uses fiction to depict a futuristic utopian society. I did not find this particularly good fiction and the romance scenes were clumsy at best, but it inspired thousands of Americans to join "Bellamy Clubs" to advocate for deep political and social reform.

4. Andrew Carnegie, "Wealth" (1889). In this article he wrote for the North American Review, Carnegie argues that the wealthy are the trustees of the national wealth who have an obligation to provide an example of good living to the population, and should use their wealth to provide opportunity, or "build ladders," as he phrases it, for the poor. He also argues on the positive nature of the economy and how driving prices ever lower is good for the consumer. Social Darwinism creeps into this essay, when he declares that while the economic systems of the time might be harsh for the individual, it is beneficial for the race.

5. The Diary and Letters of Rutherford B. Hayes (online edition http://ww2.ohiohistory.org/onlinedoc/hayes/index.cfm ). Although Hayes is not regarded as one of the greatest luminaries of our nation's highest office, he left an extensive diary that offers insights into the role of the presidency during the Gilded Age, including some important events, such as the massive railroad strike of 1877.

6. Francis Parkman, "The Woman Question" in the North American Review (1879). Wonder why it took so long for women to gain the right to vote? Read this to understand the mindset of those who opposed it. Parkman declares women are unfit by nature because they are always sick. This is the height of gall coming from a hypochondiac who suffered from many maladies of his own (and quite possibly all psychosomatic in nature). Nonetheless, it is a good example of the anti-suffrage position written by an oterwise very intelligent man.

7. Josaih Strong, Our Country (1885). Nothing captures social Darwinist thinking as well as this work. Strong ties a trait to every race (all of the bad of course) and makes a case why they should not be admitted to the United States.

8. Jacob Riis, How the Other Half Lives (1890). Riis, a Danish immigrant, lugged his bulky camera through the slums of New York City snapping photographs of the urban poor in their dingy tenements, at work, drinking, in the midst of crime, and other scenes that would have shocked the American middle class. The photographs dwarf the text and always make good discussion points in the classroom. This book should be paired with Stephen Crane's, Maggie: A Girl of the Streets (1896) for extra umph.

9. Mark Twain. Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1889). It is hard to pick out a Twain novel for this list, as they all have a claim. Not to mention that the era acquired its derogatory name from the title of one of his novels. I selected this one because the Gilded Age celebrated its inventors, and, in this work, Twain questions technological improvement. Even Bellamy sees technology as a positive force, but Twain is one of the first to question it, in his own unique way.

10. Mark Twain. "Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses" (1895). In this North American Review article, Twain savagely mocks the literary style of America's first great novelist. I like Cooper (as I do Twain) and I still find this work to be hilariously funny. Yet, it captures the rebellious spirit of the naturalist and realist authors of the latter part of the Gilded Age.

Top 10 histories of the GAPE (Gilded Age and Progressive Era)

Inspired by a series in the Guardian, which I stumbled across this past weekend, I am initiating a series of my top 10 lists. Granted these will reflect my own interests and make no attempt at providing a definitive list all historians could agree on. Still, I would love to hear any feedback you have. If there is something I missed, please let me know so I can check it out.

I tried to create a separate list for each era, but kept stumbling over those histories that crossed the period. Thus, I decided to make one list. It was not easy. In the future I will make a separate list for biographies, African-American, and environmental history.

1) Alan Dawley, Changing the World (2003). This is one of my absolute favorites. I like how it places World War I at the center of the story, instead of at the end, as is done in most books on the subject of the Progressive Era. He argues that the Progressives sought social justice, a revitalized public life, and an improved world. It was an ambitious and global movement. World War I presented certain challenges and opportunities, and, as Dawley argues, it led to significant changes within progressivism, which emerges, in his words, tougher and leaner. Of course, the meat of the book is an excellent history of how this happened.

2) Richard Hofstadter, The Age of Reform (1955). Still love this story of a reform movement driven by middle class angst. If nothing else, it should be read to understand the subsequent historiography of the period, which is often a response to Hofstadter.

3) James Kloppenberg, Uncertain Victory (1986). This deep, sweeping transAtlantic study connects emerging progressive politics and emerging ideas centered on pragmatism in such an impressive way. It was a tough call as James Livingston, Pragmatism and the Political Economy of Cultural Revolution (1994) and Daniel Rodgers, Atlantic Crossings (1998) are also excellent works in the same category.

4) Michael McGerr, A Fierce Discontent (2003). McGerr sees progressivism as a radical movement that while focused on the needs of individuals, sought to transform society.  While there were numerous success stories, the movement ultimately failed in its bold mission.

5) Louis Menand, The Metaphysical Club (2001). There are a ton of good books that examine the emergence of modernism in the late 19th century. Menand shows how the Civil War shaped the thought of such important figures as William James and Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. Their thought (and that of many others I did not mention) subsequently became the prevailing conventional wisdom. The key part is that they did not shape their ideas in solitude; instead, they debated, discussed, and often disagreed with one another. As a side note, I do like this theme of the Civil War casting a long shadow over the Gilded Age and Progressive Era and feel it could use some additional work. On this theme, I recommend Richard Bensel, Yankee Leviathan (1990), on the growth of the state, and  Jackson Lears, Rebirth of a Nation (2009) on how the understanding of the war as violent regeneration shaped the society and politics of the GAPE.

6) Sidney Miksis, Theodore Roosevelt, the Progressive Party, and the Transformation of American Democracy (2009). Miksis makes the case that the Progressive Party was a real political movement (meaning it was not a vanity campaign by Theodore Roosevelt) and played a critical role in breaking down party loyalty and ushering in the era of issue politics. I would pair this with Peri Arnold, Remaking the Presidency (2009), which discusses how Presidents Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and Woodrow Wilson governed in this period of transition from party rule to issues.

7) Roy Rosensweig, Eight Hours for What we Will (1983). I admit I am not not very big on social history, but this book speaks to me. What is freedom after all? If you think it includes having your own free time that you alone control, this books will speak to you as well. The concept of "Eight hours for what we will" (with 8 for sleeping and 8 for work to round out the 24 hour day) is critical to the emergence of the consumer economy, which was one of the major changes to emerge from the GAPE. Rosenzweig also touches on such themes as immigration, urbanization, and politics.

8) Theda Skocpol, Protecting Soldiers and Mothers (1992). Skocpol traces the origins of the welfare state to the post-Civil War pension systems and the manner in which benefits were expanded in terms of scope and eligibility. Contrary to Western European paternalist systems that provided benefits to working men, the United States developed a maternalist system that sought to provide benefits to mothers in need.

9) Mark Wahlgren Summers, The Era of Good Stealings (1993) and Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion (2000). Ok, I cheated by naming two, but I could not make up my mind. Summers deals with Gilded Age politics better than anyone else. In the first title, he exams the role of corruption in the Gilded Age political economy, and argues that it was more stated than real. In other words, better to slander your enemies with than to prove. The second is one of the best campaign analysis I have ever read.

10) Robert Wiebe, The Search for Order (1967). Still a favorite of mine. Wiebe describes how urbanization, the railroads, industrialization, and an emerging middle class transformed the United States from a series autonomous localities, to one nation, and one marketplace.

Honorable Mentions:

1) Gregory J. Dehler, Chester Alan Arthur: The Life of a Gilded Age Politician and President (2007). Ok, it is my book, but it is also my blog.

and more seriously:

2) Burton Bledstein, The Culture of Professionalism (1976). Bledstein shows how the growing professionalization, standardization of practice, and education improved the delivery and quality of services. This ranges anywhere from historians to medical doctors to civil engineers. It was one of the more important trends of the Gilded Age, as quacks were driven out of practice, and a greater reliance on science dramatically improved lives. This is always a big part of my lecture on the Gilded Age.