Results for: “History”
|Kenneth L. Untiedt, editor||University of North Texas Press|
MY FIRST TFS MEETING by J. Rhett Rushing
It was the fall of 1982. I was an undergraduate Aggie looking at my chemistry grades and slowly coming to the realization that veterinary medicine was probably not my career path. I was good at
English, I loved history, and the Boy Scout in me had a passion for anything about cowboys and Indians and Texas in general.
I was the kid that would cut class to go fishing and secretly cooked squirrel stew in an illegal crock pot in my dorm room. I knew all about making homemade wine from Mustang grapes, and on more than one occasion had hung deer to skin and butcher in the communal shower of my dorm.
What I wanted to be was Fred Gipson’s “hound dog man,” but there was little in the way of financial security or gushing approval from professional parents in the direction I was heading.
Like most nineteen-year-olds, I craved legitimacy and a little respect, but that sort of stuff required either phenomenal athletic prowess or years and years of hard work.
So, I wound up in an Intro Folklore course taught by TomSee All Chapters
|Raymond W., Jr. Thorp||Indiana University Press||ePub|
Wa’al, guess he’s gone up to Milk River, shore,” said the early-day trapper when asked about a companion’s absence. Now the Upper Milk became the last stamping ground of the Rocky Mountain Man, stretching across the vast, almost treeless plains of Alberta. The country had been trapped by Hudson’s Bay men for more than a century, but the Company had worked millions of square miles more.
Arkansas Pete had set out with plenty of time that summer. He built him a house that was snug and secure, and bigger than any he had ever seen. There was one big room with four long bunks in it, two on either side of the big fireplace and chimney. Smaller rooms were to hold gear and furs. The stake fence and the swinging gate on its hide hinges were not devised to keep out enemies (for that would have been impossible) but to keep Pete’s stock in where Pete could see them. Inland from the river, still Pete had built on a low bluff where he could see for miles along the Milk. Now Pete need only locate his trap lines before the snows could hide the land’s distinguishing characteristics, thinking the while of the stories he and Liver-Eating Johnson would have to tell one another through the long winter’s nights. Pete knew that Johnson could not possibly resist the attractions of Milk River, after a year’s horrible gentility as a town galoot.See All Chapters
|Jinwung Kim||Indiana University Press||ePub|
As a nation, Korea has a long history. The archeological finds suggest that, at some point in the misty past, tiny bands of tribesmen inhabiting the lands along the Altai Mountains of Central Asia began making their way eastward in the eternal quest for the “land of life” (the East), moving into Manchuria and the Korean peninsula. The habitation of early men in the Korean peninsula started as early as 700,000 years ago. Some North Koreans claim that the peninsula may have been inhabited for a million years. Until now Paleolithic remains, dating about 700,000 to 8,000 years ago, have been excavated in various parts of the Korean peninsula, from the Tumen River basin to the north to Cheju-do Island to the south. The most important Paleolithic sites, amounting to more than a hundred, are mostly found at the sides of big rivers.
The best-known sites of the Early Paleolithic Age, which ended approximately 100,000 years ago, include those at Sangwŏn county (Kŏmŭnmoru cave and Yonggok-ni) in the Taedong River basin, at Yŏnch’ŏn county (Chŏn’gok-ni) in the Hant’an River basin, at Chech’ŏn city (Chŏmmal cave of P’ojŏn-ni) and Tanyang city (Kŭmgul cave) in the South Han River basin, and at P’aju county (Chuwŏl-ri and Kawŏl-ri) in the Imjin River basin. The sites of the Middle Paleolithic Age, dating about 100,000 to 40,000 years ago, include those at Unggi county (Kulp’o-ri) in the Tumen River basin, at Sangwŏn county (Yonggok-ni) and the Yŏkp’o area of Pyongyang in the Taedong River basin, at Tŏkch’ŏn county (Sŭngni-san) in the Ch’ŏngch’ŏn River basin, at Yanggu county (Sangmuryŏng-ni) in the North Han River basin, at Yŏnch’ŏn county (Namgye-ri), Yangp’yŏng county (Pyŏngsan-ni), Chech’ŏn city (Myŏngo-ri), and Tanyang city (Suyanggae cave) in the South Han River basin, and on Chejudo (Pile-mot pond). The sites of the Late Paleolithic Age, dating about 40,000 to 8,000 years ago, include those at Unggi county (Kulp’o-ri [the upper layer] and Pup’o-ri), Pyongyang (Mandal-ri) in the Taedong River basin, Kongju city (Sŏkchang-ni) and Ch’ŏngwŏn county (Turubong cave) in the Kŭm River basin, Hwasun county (Taejŏn-ni), Koksŏng county (Chewŏl-ri), and Sunch’ŏn city (Chungnae-ri) in the Sŏmjin River basin. Given the wide distribution of these sites, it is presumed that Paleolithic men lived in virtually every part of the Korean peninsula.See All Chapters
|Bill O'Neal||University of North Texas Press|
their oldest son. Tall and handsome, Ed had been gunned down on a public street in view of his daughters. At thirty-two the beloved son and brother was wrenched from his close-knit family. Soon a large stone monument was placed over Ed’s grave. His name and the dates of his birth and death were cited, and a carefully selected sentiment throbbed with meaning:
Our precious one from us has gone,
A voice we loved is stilled,
A place is vacant in our home,
Which never can be filled.
Such a devastating loss cried out for retribution, for Old Testament vengeance. On the weekend of Ed’s death, a contingent of his kinsmen and friends came to Snyder to deliver the body to Post City.
Feelings were ugly over the killing, and Sheriff Merrill was alarmed by the threats he overheard. He wired Governor James Ferguson, requesting “two experienced rangers . . . to remain through Christmas holidays.” Ranger Captain J. M. Fox sent word that two of his men were on the way. Rangers John D. White and A. G. Beard soon arrived, and Sheriff Merrill managed to keep them in Snyder through the March term of the District Court.2See All Chapters
|Margaret Lewis Furse||Texas A&M University Press||ePub|
LETTERS WRITTEN EN ROUTE
Traveling to Texas, Ariella wrote to her mother on November 20, 1846, when she arrived in New Orleans from Memphis. The fact that New Orleans was a new and thrilling adventure for her suggests that Ariella probably had not been to Texas before the trip she now described.
She was “heartedly tired of traveling” and anxious to get to their Caney Creek home in Texas. Traveling in a paddle wheeler, they had started down the Mississippi from Memphis. Probably they arrived at Memphis from North Carolina by private carriages or public stage. The slaves, who accompanied them on the Mississippi riverboat, had made their way from North Carolina to Memphis in their own group, probably by wagon. All reached Memphis safely, Ariella told her mother, who she knew would want to hear, and were “well pleased” with their trip.1
The party traveling to Texas together consisted of Ariella and her husband, whom she called “Mr. Hawkins”; their six children, including their baby daughter Ella; and the wife of the (probably permanent) overseer hired for their Caney plantation. Ariella did not say whether the overseer himself was on board. While J. B. Hawkins was bringing his family to Texas, he had put a temporary man named McNeel in charge at Caney. The trip from Memphis to New Orleans took them one week by paddle wheeler.See All Chapters
|Christopher Robert Reed||Indiana University Press||ePub|
We are going to steal all the thunder of the Communists without having the label of the Communists.
—A. C. MacNeal, Chicago NAACP president, 1933
Depression-decade circumstances dictated that the most radical and militant organizations purporting to meet the emergent needs of the economically distressed adopt a dual agenda embracing both economic relief and the protection of civil rights.1 Duality was a necessity, because in order to enlist the racially conscious black population of whatever class level to challenge the economic status quo, an appeal based on the pursuit of racial advancement had to be included. A. C. MacNeal led the Chicago NAACP into adopting a dual agenda to solve the Black Belt’s immediate needs—by trying to secure jobs—while continuing the Association’s primary mission of fighting violations to basic citizenship rights. Meanwhile, the Communist Party of the U.S.A. (CPUSA) embarked on its own dual agenda, but in its case it used an effort to fight for civil rights as a lure to entice black workers and the unemployed into a struggle that it considered of global importance—to understand, undermine, and destroy the capitalist system that brought on the worldwide depression in the first instance. The Communists were handicapped first by the orders emanating from Moscow, which embraced certain elements of nationalism that, in fact, dissuaded certain groups of African Americans from following their direction. Then, the Communists, being overwhelmingly white in their racial composition, suffered by having so few active, well-trained, and influential black party members within their ranks. In combining race and class, the Communists initiated a set of contradictions that invalidated the strength of the purity of their economic doctrine and pursuits.See All Chapters
|Joseph Klaits||Indiana University Press||ePub|
Without torture there would have been no witch craze. Certainly, some trials for witchcraft would have occurred in early modern Europe even without the use of torture to elicit confessions. But the immense scale of witch hunting derived in large part from the spread of coercive techniques in criminal law procedure. Even in England and New England, where most forms of torture were forbidden, the authorities’ ideas about witches were strongly influenced by continental writers who drew their evidence from confessions extracted by torture. In the same way, those who encouraged suggestible men and women to believe themselves bewitched had become familiar with witchcraft through accounts extracted under threatened or actual torture.
A case study can illustrate the impact of torture on witchcraft prosecution. Among the most wrenching documents to come down to us from the witch trials is the letter of Johannes Junius, a burgomaster in the German city of Bamberg. Junius was arrested on charges of witchcraft in 1628, while the community was in the midst of a large-scale witch panic. He was tortured, confessed, and went to the stake, but before his death Junius managed to compose an account of his imprisonment in a letter to his daughter. The burgomaster described his interrogation:See All Chapters
|Wilfred R. Bion||Karnac Books||ePub|
In the early 1970s I decided to make a typescript of Bion’s diary to facilitate any future reading of it and as an insurance against any possible loss of the original—somewhat late in the day, its having already survived many house removals in the ‘20s and ‘30s, London bombing raids in the ‘40s, further house removals in the ‘50s and ‘60s, and a voyage of six thousand miles to California in 1968. That typescript tempted Bion to read the account for the first time since he wrote it fifty years earlier and to make some revealing comments on his reactions. As he rightly observes, ‘I am amazed to find I wrote like an illiterate when I had already been accepted at Queen’s’.
The commentary is written in the form he used in A Memoir of the Future, although here the conversation is between two characters only: BION, the inexperienced young man of twenty-one, and MYSELF, the wise old man of seventy-five. Memories come flooding back, reinforcing his dislike of his personality and poor opinion of his performance as a soldier. He says, ‘… I never recovered from the survival of the Battle of Amiens. Most of what I do not like about you [MYSELF] seemed to start then’. Fortunately this lack of self-esteem was offset by his pride in his family and his work as a psychoanalyst—the two areas of his life that were of greater importance to him than any other.See All Chapters
|Nell Gabiam||Indiana University Press||ePub|
ON OCTOBER 28, 2005, during a community meeting in Neirab Camp, the head of UNRWA in Syria said, “For far too long, UNRWA has worked with Palestinian refugees as though it knows what is good for them, without really asking them” (field notes, October 28, 2005). This comment was made in the context of UNRWA’s recent policy changes, which had centered on the agency’s increasing embrace of the discourse of “development” in framing its assistance to Palestinian refugees. UNRWA’s embrace of this discourse marks an attempted shift away from the agency’s traditional forms of assistance, which had focused on the refugees’ immediate and basic needs, toward forms concerned with their long-term, sustainable well-being (UNRWA 2005a). The official’s acknowledgment indicates that it is not just the nature of the agency’s assistance to refugees that must change but the very nature of the agency’s relationship with them. UNRWA describes its now decade-long reform process as a move away from the paternalistic approach that had informed its humanitarian assistance to Palestinian refugees toward an approach that engages these refuges as “partners” in the effort to improve living conditions in their camps (UNRWA 2009).See All Chapters
|Jonathan H. Rees||University Press of Colorado||ePub|
What can businessmen do to clean up the rot that these muckrakers and demagogues have dumped on our door?
—COLORADO FUEL AND IRON COMPANY CHAIR AND VICE PRESIDENT LAMONT BOWERS, 1914 1
In 1918, John D. Rockefeller Jr. made his second trip to Colorado since the Great Coalfield War of 1913–1914. On May 30 a chauffeur-driven car carrying him, his wife, Abby, and Mackenzie King arrived at a gathering of approximately 3,000 working people in southern Colorado. This multiethnic and multiracial crowd had assembled for the dedication of a monument to the victims of the Ludlow Massacre, which had occurred at that spot during the infamous strike a little more than four years earlier. A few of the leaders of the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) who had organized the dedication ceremony for the monument had learned the previous evening that Rockefeller planned on attending and wanted to speak, but they had not yet decided on a response. Rockefeller’s presence at the gathering was an issue because many in the audience felt he was responsible for the deaths of the people being memorialized. In his role as primary stockholder, director, and de facto owner of the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company (CF&I)—the victims’ employer—Rockefeller had supported management’s uncompromising refusal to bargain with the union during the coal field war. Union leaders were afraid there would be an embarrassing or even a dangerous incident if he attended, let alone spoke. They communicated this fear to King, who went back into the vehicle to explain the situation to the passengers. The Rockefellers sped off without leaving the car.2See All Chapters
|Otto Schrag||Indiana University Press||ePub|
As soon as my mother returned from southern France she began to make the rounds in Belgium for the documents we would need for our trip to America—the American consulate, the Portuguese, the German commission, in hopes of getting a travel permit to let us get into northern France—even as my father was in pursuit of documents in southern France. The American quotas made it virtually impossible for anyone from Germany to immigrate directly to the United States, even with the help of my American grandmother. Instead we got immigration visas to Mexico, obtained by circuitous routes I’ve long forgotten, if I ever knew. Those visas, after struggles with a sequence of US consular bureaucracies—and probably a hefty dose of the pervasive State Department anti-Semitism of that era—were ultimately sufficient to secure US transit visas (changed to visitor’s visas after we got to the United States; by 1947, six years after we arrived, our number finally came up and we were able to formally “immigrate”—by way of Montreal—and start the clock on the naturalization process).See All Chapters
|Florence Martin||Indiana University Press||ePub|
How would a contemporary Shahrazad convey her multiple, embedded stories? Her mise en abyme of several stories could, of course, take the form of the hypertext linkages of today: at the click of the teller’s finger, a new story would unfold, like a Japanese paper flower. Another possible way to open up story after story is through embedded screens. Such is Nadia El Fani’s storytelling technique.
In Nadia El Fani’s film, the cinematic screen acts as a revealer of a multitude of screens, each of them referring to a distinct world. Hence, not only does one secret hide another, but also one screen hides another, and another, and another. The film flashes a series of embedded screens that frame multiple narrative fragments, destabilizing the hijab screen we have just explored in Red Satin in the process. In the end, of course, all the fragments, like pieces of an intricate jigsaw puzzle, fit together to propose a unifying, variegated meta-narrative. Each screen is a portal that leads to a particular plane of a globally shared cyber-vision rather than to a haptic apprehension of the world under the hijab. Here, El Fani proposes another interpretation of the filmic veil and screen distinct from Amari’s in Red Satin.See All Chapters
|Joann Puffer Kotcher||University of North Texas Press|
✚ a p p e n di x 2 ✚
Some Questions Answered
tatistics compiled after the war tell us more of the story. We know that 2,600,0001 Americans served in Vietnam, and 58,0002 Ameri-
cans lost their lives there. Compare that to 117,000 who lost their lives in WW I; 407,000 in World War II; and 54,000 in Korea. It is sobering to learn that there were 43,000 people killed on the highways in the United
States in each of the years 2002, 2003, and 2004.3 The percentage of people who died in Vietnam was similar to other wars: 2 percent.4 For every 100 people who served in Vietnam, two would die. That’s a lot less than everybody, which was what I thought before I went.
In 2007 I ran into a man at a party who said he was a Vietnam veteran. He told me that the Red Cross girls sold their favors. He knew of commanders who would not let us visit their men because of it. I never heard that rumor in Vietnam. I am sure that, of all the girls I ever met, not one behaved immorally. Moreover, I am sure not one of them slept with or got too friendly with individual soldiers. Those who would assert otherwise are ignorant of our commitment and of the times.See All Chapters
|Anand Pandian||Indiana University Press||ePub|
There is so much that my grandmother could have said and done to enrich this book, were she still here. It would have been hers, just as much as Ayya’s. Paati’s powers of description were extraordinary. Even a simple complaint about medicine could swell into an extravagant picture of tablets slipping down the gullet like grains of rice.
The tartness of Paati’s humor cut every unexpected situation down to a manageable size. Once, at an Italian restaurant in Hawaii, she dangled the word “fettuccine” over and over across her tongue, marveling in Tamil at the absurdity of its sound and its dubious appeal. She much preferred the tamarind rice that my mother would box up especially for her.
A sense of numbness was with me still when I wrote a letter to Ayya a few days after her death. That letter is gone, but I have what he wrote back, an aerogram packed with the erratic loops and curves of his Tamil script.
March 3, 1997
To my loving grandson Anand Pandian, this is your Ayya writing. I received your letter.See All Chapters
|Brandon D Lundy||Indiana University Press||ePub|
You taught me language, and my profit on’t
Is, I know how to curse.
—Caliban, The Tempest (Shakespeare 1968:I.ii.363–364)
Caliban’s rebellion against Prospero in Shakespeare’s final play raises questions of language, race, colonialism, power, and resistance, which have a direct relevance for the teaching of African politics. While the postcolonial context of the United Kingdom and Ireland is very different from that of North America, central themes of race, language, and political responsibility have an inescapable importance wherever African politics is taught. The Tempest has acquired iconic status for postcolonial analysts; Ngugi wa Thiong’o calls it “the classic text of the colonial process” (2005:157). When first written and performed in the early 17th century, the concept of “the British Empire” was first beginning to enter popular discourse, consisting of the kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland and the principality of Wales (Howe 2000:13); by the 19th and 20th centuries, the text was itself a staple of English literature educational syllabi across the British Empire (Johnson 1998). Taking The Tempest as a starting point for discussing the teaching of African politics is perhaps counterintuitive, as one of the potential readings of the play regards the limits of education: whether with respect to the naivety and innocence of Miranda or the recalcitrant Caliban, “on whose nature / Nurture can never stick” (Shakespeare 1968:IV.i.188–189).See All Chapters