The Historical Review ISSN 0029–2494

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Cover: The monument to North Carolina’s Civil War and Redeemer governor Zebulon Baird Vance in the central civic square of Asheville, North Carolina, has played an important role in Lost Cause commemorations since it was dedicated in 1898. By the late 1930s, the monument also came to be associated with a commitment to tolerance through the efforts of local Jewish and Christian communities. For a discussion of how observances and practices that took shape in the 1930s and 1940s included Jews in prominent roles and reinterpreted the meaning of tolerance, see Seth Epstein, “From Objects to Agents of Tolerance: Jews and Tolerance Talk in Asheville, North Carolina, 1894–1954,” 305–340. Confederate reunion in Pack Square, pre–1910, in the W. B. McEwen and Caroline Nichols McEwen Collection, D. H. Ramsey Library Special Collections, University of North Carolina at Asheville. Cover design by Sheilah Barrett Carroll. Volume XCVI Published in July 2019 Number 3

CONTENTS

Anna Burwell and the Business of Being a Presbyterian Minister’s Wife in North Carolina, 1835–1857 ...... 245 Sylvia D. Hoffert

Kenan Memorial Stadium: Philanthropy from 1926 to 1962 ...... 276 Benjamin J. Downs and Chad Seifried

From Objects to Agents of Tolerance: Jews and Tolerance Talk in Asheville, North Carolina, 1894–1954 ...... 305 Seth Epstein

Book Reviews ...... 341

© Copyright, 2019, North Carolina Office of Archives and History BOOK REVIEWS

Broadwater and Kickler, eds ., North Carolina’s Revolutionary Founders, by Noeleen McIlvenna ...... 341

Malone, Dromgoole, Twice-Murdered: Unraveling a Southern Legend of Duels, Disappearance, Seminole Wars, Secret Societies, Mystery, Castles, and Flagler’s Millions, by John Blythe...... 342

Gerard, The Last Battleground: The Civil War Comes to North Carolina, by Gordon B . McKinney...... 344

Mulrooney, Race, Place, and Memory: Deep Currents in Wilmington, North Carolina, by Karen Hawkins ...... 345

McKinley and Sabol, eds ,. North Carolina’s Experience during the First World War, by Lon Strauss...... 347

Kotch, Lethal State: A History of the Death Penalty in North Carolina, by Franklin E . Zimring...... 348

Covington, Fire and Stone: The Making of the University of North Carolina under Presidents Edward Kidder Graham and Harry Woodburn Chase, by Charles J . Holden...... 349

Huler, A Delicious Country: Rediscovering the Carolinas along the Route of John Lawson’s 1700 Expedition, by Charles R . Ewen...... 351

Smithers, Native Southerners: Indigenous History from Origins to Removal, by Bryan C . Rindfleisch...... 352

Thompson, “The Only Unavoidable Subject of Regret”: George Washington, Slavery, and the Enslaved Community at Mount Vernon, by Jeff Broadwater...... 353

Carpenter, Southern Gambit: Cornwallis and the British March to Yorktown, by John R . Maass ...... 355

Schweninger, Appealing for Liberty: Freedom Suits in the South, by Jeremy T . Canipe...... 357

Mauldin, Unredeemed Land: An Environmental History of Civil War and Emancipation in the Cotton South, by Justin C . Eaddy...... 358

Hall, Sisters and Rebels: A Struggle for the Soul of America, by Jennifer Scanlon...... 360

Parker, Department Stores and the Black Freedom Movement: Workers, Consumers, and Civil Rights from the 1930s to the 1980s, by Jennifer Standish...... 361 Other Recent Publications...... 363 Anna Burwell and the Business of Being a Presbyterian Minister’s Wife in North Carolina, 1835–1857

Sylvia D. Hoffert

“ he neglected no duty, kept the house beautifully, had the personal supervision Sof the thirty boarders, attended to their manners and morals, saw that their beds were properly made—was particular about their health—kept house, made her own bread, washed the dishes, with our assistance—taught six hours a day—was the mother of twelve beautifully clean, healthy attractive children, dressed well always and entertained as much company as any other lady in the village ”. Such was the praise lavished on Anna Burwell by one of her students, Lavinia Cole, as she reminisced about the years she spent at the Burwell School in Hillsborough, North Carolina 1. Anna may have been a schoolmistress and boardinghouse keeper, but she was first and foremost a southern Presbyterian minister’s wife . The daughter of William Bruce Robertson and Margaret Ann Spotswood, Margaret Anna Robertson Burwell was born on October 3, 1810, into a family rich in pedigree but lacking in money . When she was a small child, her mother ran a boardinghouse in Petersburg, Virginia . She was reared and educated by her maternal aunt, Susan Catherine Spotswood Bott, an intensely pious Presbyterian, whose life was dedicated to supporting her church, its ministry, and its missions . Anna began teaching at the age of eighteen after the death of her uncle and married Robert Armistead Burwell, the Presbyterian pastor of Wood’s Church in Chesterfield County, Virginia, on December 22, 1831 .2

1 . Lavinia Cole Roberts, “The Burwell School,” quoted in Mary Claire Engstrom, comp ., The Book of Burwell Students: Lives of Educated Women in the Antebellum South (Hillsborough, N .C .: Historic Hillsborough Commis- sion, 2007), 77 . Cole attended the Burwell School in 1848 and 1849 . Ibid ., 75 . 2 . A[braham] B[rooks] Van Zandt, “The Elect Lady”: A Memoir of Mrs. Susan Catharine Bott of Petersburg, Va. (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1857), 18–34; Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, s v. .

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It is unclear what the new bride expected from a life married to a clergyman . The role of a minister’s wife was generally understood but not necessarily clearly defined in the early nineteenth century 3. The demands made upon her depended upon a variety of factors, including her denomination, geographic location, and the size of her community as well as her personal background and temperament . By marrying a Presbyterian clergyman, women like Anna Burwell accepted the triple burden of carrying out their domestic duties as wives, mothers, and housekeepers, promoting efforts to encourage the search for personal salvation, and performing community service as a way of fulfilling the expectations imposed on them by their husbands’ congregations . Because they often tried to carry out these duties without adequate financial resources, some ministers’ wives took on a fourth burden—that of co-breadwinner, which called upon them to teach school, take in sewing, sell produce, or keep a boardinghouse 4. They may not have anticipated the need to fulfill that role . And they may not have embraced it . But when circumstances dictated and the opportunities arose, they found it necessary to enter the world of commercial capitalism, a world that focused on materialism, competition, and concern for profit . Their success depended upon their ability to pursue worldly concerns while preserving their spiritual integrity and exerting their authority without disrupting the male-dominated economic and social structure that pervaded the antebellum South .

“Burwell, Robert Armistead”; Engstrom, Book of Burwell Students, 8; John Bott Burwell, “Record of the Descendants of the Rev . Robert Burwell, D . D . and Margaret Anna Robertson Married Dec . 22nd, 1831” (hereinafter Burwell, “Record of Burwell and Robertson Descendants”), typescript, 1921, p . 2, Burwell School Archives, Hillsborough, N C. ;. George H . Burwell et al ,. eds ,. Record of the Burwell Family [Copied in part from the manuscript by the Rev . Robert Burwell] (Richmond, Va .: Whittet and Shepperson, 1908), 16 . 3 . Anna could get an idea of what that life entailed from a wide variety of sources, including the advice of family, friends, and ministers, as well as manuals written for her benefit, memoirs, and fictionalized autobi- ographies written by other ministers’ wives . See, for example, Catherine L . Adams, Daily Duties Inculcated in a Series of Letters, Addressed to the Wife of a Clergyman (Boston: Crocker and Brewster, 1835), Rev . H[errick] . M . Eaton, The Itinerant’s Wife: Her Qualifications, Duties, Trials, and Rewards (1851), and [Mary Orne Tucker], Itiner- ant Preaching in the Early Days of Methodism, by a Pioneer Preacher’s Wife (1872), reprinted in The Nineteenth-Cen- tury American Methodist Itinerant Preacher’s Wife, ed . Carolyn De Swarte Gifford (New York: Garland, 1987) . See also H . Trusta [Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, Sr ],. The Sunny Side: Or, the Country Minister’s Wife (Philadelphia: American Sunday School Union, 1851); [Martha Stone Hubbell], The Shady Side; or Life in a Country Parsonage by a Pastor’s Wife (Boston: John P . Jewett, 1853); Edward Brooks Hall, Memoir of Mary L. Ware, Wife of Henry Ware Jr. (Boston: Crosby, Nichols, and Co ,. 1853); “Hints to a Minister’s Wife,” Dr . John H . Rice to Mrs . Jane I . [Rice] White, February 13, 1828, Presbyterian Magazine 5 (November 1855): 504–506; [Eunice White Bullard Beecher], From Dawn to Daylight; or, the Simple Story of a Western Home. By a Minister’s Wife (New York: Derby and Jackson, 1859); Anonymous, The Minister’s Wife; or, What Becomes of the Salary (Boston: James M . Usher, 1861); and Helen R . Cutler, Jottings from Life; or, Passages from the Diary of an Itinerant’s Wife (Cincinnati, Ohio: Poe and Hitchcock, 1864) . 4 . Lois A . Boyd, “Presbyterian Ministers’ Wives—A Nineteenth-Century Portrait,” Journal of Presbyterian His- tory 59, no . 1 (Spring 1981): 13; James Hudnut-Beumler, In Pursuit of the Almighty’s Dollar: A History of Money and American Protestantism (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007), 191; Emily Mace, “In the Parsonage, In the Parish: Experiences of Nineteenth-Century Unitarian Ministers’ Wives,” Unitarian Universalist Women’s Heritage Society, Occasional Papers Series, February 2002, 6 .

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Photograph of Anna Burwell courtesy of Burwell School Historic Site, Hillsborough, N C. .

Considering their large numbers and cultural significance in helping to build and sustain their husbands’ congregations, clergymen’s wives in the early nineteenth century have received only modest attention from historians 5. Emily Mace and Lois Boyd have suggested that the scholarly neglect of these women stems from the perception that their position in society was derivative, implying that they had no

5 . For general discussions of ministers’ wives in the nineteenth century, see Boyd, “Presbyterian Ministers’ Wives,” 3–17; Julie Roy Jeffrey, “Ministry through Marriage: Methodist Clergy Wives on the Trans-Missis- sippi Frontier,” in Women in New Worlds: Historical Perspectives on the Wesleyan Tradition, ed . Hilah F . Thomas and Rosemary Skinner Keller (Nashville, Tenn :. Abingdon, 1981), 143–160; Leonard I . Sweet, The Minister’s Wife: Her Role in Nineteenth-Century American Evangelicalism (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1983); Ann-Janine Morey, “Lamentations for the Minister’s Wife, by Herself,” Women’s Studies 19, no . 3–4 (1991): 327–340; Mace, “In the Parsonage,” 1–22; Hudnut-Beumler, In Pursuit of the Almighty’s Dollar, 187–198; and Charity R . Carney, Ministers and Masters: Methodism, Manhood, and Honor in the Old South (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2011), 85–89 . For discussions of specific ministers’ wives, see, for example, Joan W . Goodwin, The Remarkable Mrs. Ripley: The Life of Sarah Alden Bradford Ripley (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1998); Sarah Ann Wider, Anna Tilden: Unitarian Culture and the Problem of Self-Representation (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1997); Hall, Memoir of Mary L. Ware; Cynthia Grant Tucker, No Silent

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historical significance beyond their choice of a marriage partner and the work they did in his shadow .6 The case of Anna Burwell provides an example of a woman who acquired influence and status beyond that usually bestowed upon even the most exemplary of ministers’ wives . In desperate need of money, she stepped out of her husband’s shadow and became a well-respected school administrator and educator in her own right . In doing so, she joined the ranks of a significant group of women who pioneered advances in women’s education in the early nineteenth century . One of the legacies of the American Revolution was an expanding interest in the education of women, who were expected to fulfill their obligations to the state by teaching their children to accept the responsibilities of citizenship 7. Anna Burwell’s for-profit school was intended to advance intellectual opportunities for young women while inculcating in them the social and domestic skills as well as the religious sensibilities they would need to fulfill their roles as Republican Mothers and eventually embrace the values and ideals inherent in the southern version of the “cult of true womanhood ”. 8 She carried out her work in a slaveholding, patriarchal culture focused on preserving manly honor and male prerogatives, which left little room for the expression of female initiative and authority . The fact that her commercial activity seemed to cause no concern about the manifestation of female power testifies to the elasticity of ideas about masculinity and femininity in the antebellum South, particularly when applied to clergymen and their wives . As historian Leonard Sweet has pointed out, it is hard to estimate the income of ministers’ families in the early nineteenth century . Denominational financial records are scattered all over the country . Furthermore, there was often a difference between what was promised and what was received . Then there was the problem of failing to pay the ministers’ salaries on time, which made it difficult for clergymen’s wives to successfully manage their household accounts . Estimates are further complicated by the fact that, particularly in the agrarian South, ministers were sometimes promised

Witness: The Eliot Parsonage Women and Their Unitarian World (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010); and Cheryl F . Junk, “ ‘Ladies, Arise! The World Has Need of You’: Frances Bumpass, Religion, and the Power of the Press, 1851–1860” (Ph .D . diss ., University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 2005) . 6 . Mace, “In the Parsonage,” 1; Boyd, “Presbyterian Ministers’ Wives,” 3 . 7 . Linda K . Kerber, Women of the Republic: Intellect and Ideology in Revolutionary America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1980), 269–288 . See also Mary Beth Norton, Liberty’s Daughters: The Revolutionary Experience of American Women, 1750–1800 (Boston: Little, Brown and Co ,. 1980), 256–294 . Subsequent stud- ies have tried to expand the framework for understanding early attempts to educate women . See Margaret A . Nash, “Rethinking Republican Motherhood: Benjamin Rush and the Young Ladies’ Academy of Philadel- phia,” Journal of the Early Republic 17, no . 2 (Summer 1997): 171–191; Mary Kelley, Learning to Stand and Speak: Women, Education, and Public Life in America’s Republic (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 25, 34–111; and Lucia McMahon, “ ‘Of the Utmost Importance to Our Country’: Women, Education, and Society, 1780–1820,” Journal of the Early Republic 29, no . 3 (Fall 2009): 475–506 . 8 . Barbara Welter, “The Cult of True Womanhood, 1820–1860,” American Quarterly 18, no . 2 (Summer 1966): 151–174 .

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salaries in the form of commodities, the value of which was hard to determine and the delivery of which was not guaranteed . Moreover, ministers often received hidden subsidies in the form of goods, allowances, or services . Congregations sometimes provided their ministers with parsonages, for example, or furniture, child allowances, fuel allotments, or traveling expenses . Church members who practiced law or medicine might offer their services for free . And those who owned local businesses sometimes offered discounts to the local clergy and their families . When congregants found themselves in arrears, they could always resort to giving the minister a donation party to tide him and his family over until payment could be made .9 Ministers’ salaries varied . Episcopalians and Congregational ministers tended to make more money than Methodist and Baptist ministers . Compensation for Presbyterian clergymen like Robert Burwell fell somewhere in the middle . Salaries were higher in the South than in the North and higher in urban areas than in rural areas 10. But the fact remained that poverty, real and perceived, was likely to shape the lives of women who married ministers . They were expected to entertain graciously; feed, clothe, and educate their children; and display the trappings of gentility without the means to do so adequately, and many struggled to make ends meet . Whatever the individual case, the issue of ministerial compensation was a constant source of potential friction between the minister and his congregation as well as between the minister and his wife 11. There were many clergymen’s wives whose laments were like that of Mary Ware, who wrote in her journal in 1842, “O the money, the money! what can be done without money!”12 Anna Burwell would have agreed with her . Four years after their marriage, the Burwells arrived in the small town of Hillsborough, North Carolina, and settled into the Presbyterian manse on North

9 . Sweet, The Minister’s Wife, 67–75; Hudnut-Beumler, In Pursuit of the Almighty’s Dollar, 78 . A donation party (also called a “surprise visit” or “pound social”) was a particularly demeaning social event during which members of the congregation arrived at a minister’s house bearing food, clothes or anything else they thought might be useful to the minister’s family as a way of meeting their financial obligation to him . See Sweet, The Minister’s Wife, 75 . For descriptions of such parties written by minister’s wives, see Beecher, From Dawn to Daylight, 205–222; Phelps, The Sunny Side, 44–45, 47, 54; and Cutler, Jottings from Life, 102–108 . For twentieth-century ministers’ salaries, see Hudnut-Beumler, In Pursuit of the Almighty’s Dollar, 76–96 . 10 . Sweet, The Minister’s Wife, 69–70; E . Brooks Holifield, “The Penurious Preacher? Nineteenth-Century Clerical Wealth: North and South,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 58, no . 1 (Spring 1990): 19, 22; Anne C . Loveland, Southern Evangelicals and the Social Order, 1800–1860 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1980), 58 . 11 . Southern evangelical Christians had to reconcile their belief that they had a duty to pursue a calling that brought with it the potential accumulation of wealth with their suspicion of the rise of commercial and industrial capitalism in the North . See Richard W . Pointer, “Philadelphia Presbyterians, Capitalism, and the Morality of Economic Success,” in God and Mammon: Protestants, Money, and the Market, 1790–1860, ed . Mark A . Noll (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 171–191; and Charles Sellers, The Market Revolution: Jacksonian America, 1815–1846 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991) . 12 . Hall, Memoir of Mary L. Ware, 309–310 .

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Churton Street 13. It soon became clear that Robert’s salary of four hundred dollars a year could not support their growing family 14. Anna’s Aunt Bott tried to convince her that their poverty was a blessing . “Do not think that I am insensible to the many trials that you have had, or the continual exertion that you are obliged to make to help support a family,” she wrote . “You have everything but wealth, which, if you had, might lead you into many temptations and snares . If riches had been for your good, your heavenly Father would have given them to you .”15 Such sentiments, however, offered little comfort when there was no money to pay the bills for food, clothing, and fuel . Robert was reluctant to borrow money, and his duties apparently took up so much of his time that he could not take on another full-time job . So when Dr . James Webb, a fellow Presbyterian and one of their neighbors, suggested that Anna establish a school for young ladies, she accepted his proposal and opened her nonsectarian, for-profit academy in July 1837, with four students, including Webb’s daughter . Soon thereafter, she began admitting students who wished to board in order to increase her income 16. Educational opportunities for young women proliferated in the South during this period 17. The State of North Carolina led the way . The Moravians turned their Salem Academy, which had been founded in 1772, into a boarding school open to girls of all denominations in May 1804, the same year that the Raleigh Academy was founded .

13 . Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, s .v . “Burwell, Robert Armistead .” 14 . In the mid-1840s, Presbyterian ministers’ salaries ranged from $100 to $4,000, $400 being the average . Sweet, The Minister’s Wife, 70 . In 1853, Presbyterians paid their mission ministers from $215 to $1,000, with an average of $372, which increased to $472 by 1856 . Hudnut-Beumler, In Pursuit of the Almighty’s Dollar, 82–84 . In 1855, southern urban Presbyterian clergy made from $1,200 to $2,000 per year . Holifield, “Penurious Preacher,” 19 . 15 . Susan Catharine Bott to Anna Burwell, n .d ., in Van Zandt, Memoir of Mrs. Susan Catharine Bott, 153 . 16 . Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, s v. . “Burwell, Robert Armistead”; Charles L . Coon, ed ,. North Carolina Schools and Academies, 1790–1840: A Documentary History (Raleigh, N C. :. Edwards and Broughton Printing Co ,. 1915), 320 . According to Donald Mathews, early nineteenth-century evangelicals, especially Presbyterian clerics, established schools as part of their ministry . Donald G . Mathews, Religion in the Old South (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977), 87 . 17 . Melvin Fletcher Green, “Higher Education of Women in the South Prior to 1860,” in Democracy in the Old South and Other Essays, ed . J . Isaac Copeland (Nashville, Tenn :. Vanderbilt University Press, 1969), 199–219; Catherine Clinton, “Equally Their Due: The Education of the Planter Daughter in the Early Republic,” Jour- nal of the Early Republic 2, no . 1 (April 1982): 39–60; Steven M . Stowe, “The Not-So-Cloistered Academy: Elite Women’s Education and Family Feeling in the Old South,” in The Web of Southern Social Relations: Women, Family, and Education, ed . Walter J . Fraser Jr ., R . Frank Saunders Jr ., and Jon L . Wakelyn (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1985), 90–106; Christie Anne Farnham, The Education of the Southern Belle: Higher Education and Socialization in the Antebellum South (New York: New York University Press, 1994); Anya Jabour “ ‘Grown Girls, Highly Cultivated’: Female Education in an Antebellum Southern Family,” Journal of Southern History 64, no . 1 (February 1998): 23–64; Kathryn Walbert, “ ‘Endeavor to Improve Yourself ’: The Education of White Women in the Antebellum South,” in Chartered Schools: Two Hundred Years of Independent Academies in the United States, 1727–1925, ed . Nancy Beadie and Kim Tolley (New York: RoutledgeFalmer, 2002), 116–136; Anya Jabour, Scarlett’s Sisters: Young Women in the Old South (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007), 47–82 .

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Photograph of Robert Burwell courtesy of Burwell School Historic Site .

In Warrenton, the Falkener School for girls opened in 1802, followed by the Warrenton Female Academy in 1809 18. As long as access to education did not threaten the social or economic structures that served as the basis for patriarchal authority in the South, there was little resistance to the idea of women’s education . While going away to school could delay marriage and the assumption of adult responsibilities, southern parents did not expect their daughters to use their education as a way to evade the authority of their family, to

18 . Frances Griffin, Less Time for Meddling: A History of Salem Academy and College, 1772–1866 (Winston- Salem, N C. :. John F . Blair, 1979), xi; Lucy Leinbach Wenhold, “The Salem Boarding School between 1802 and 1822,” North Carolina Historical Review 27, no . 1 (January 1950): 32–45, esp . 34–35; Kim Tolley, Heading South to Teach: The World of Susan Nye Hutchison, 1815–1845 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2015), 40 . Stanley L . Falk, “The Warrenton Female Academy of Jacob Mordecai, 1809–1818,” North Carolina Historical Review 35, no . 3 (July 1958): 281–298, mentions the Falkener School on p . 281 . Emily Bingham and Penny Richards, “The Female Academy and Beyond: Three Mordecai Sisters at Work in the Old South,” in Neither Lady Nor Slave: Working Women of the Old South, ed . Susanna Delfino and Michele Gillespie (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2002), 174–197 . For a general discussion of southern academies, see Edgar W . Knight, “The Academy Movement in the South,” High School Journal 2, no . 7 (November 1919): 199–204 .

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Advertisement for Burwell School from the Hillsborough Recorder, July 15, 1857, courtesy of Burwell School Historic Site .

avoid marriage altogether, or to support themselves 19. At the same time, however, in the unlikely event that a woman might find it necessary to support herself and her children, an education could provide her with the opportunity to do so through teaching, particularly if she was skilled in music or art 20. Like their counterparts elsewhere in North Carolina, town leaders in Hillsborough understood that good schools could serve their economic and religious interests by attracting students who paid board to local residents, by purchasing supplies from local merchants and farmers, by employing slaves and free blacks, by providing the cultural capital needed to appeal to land speculators and entrepreneurs, and by

19 . Joan E . Cashin, “ ‘Decidedly Opposed to the Union’: Women’s Culture, Marriage, and Politics in Ante- bellum South Carolina,” Georgia Historical Quarterly 78, no . 4 (Winter 1994): 735–759; Anya Jabour, “ ‘It will never do for me to be married’: The Life of Laura Wirt Randall, 1803–1833,” Journal of the Early Repub- lic 17, no . 2 (Summer 1997): 193–236; Jabour, Scarlett’s Sisters, 80–92; Christine Jacobson Carter, Southern Single Blessedness: Unmarried Women in the Urban South, 1800–1865 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2006); Michael O’Brien, ed ,. An Evening When Alone: Four Journals of Single Women in the South, 1827–67 (Charlottes- ville: University Press of Virginia, 1993); Elizabeth Fox-Genovese, Within the Plantation Household: Black and White Women of the Old South (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1988), 46, 258 . 20 . Margaret A . Nash, “A Means of Honorable Support: Art and Music in Women’s Education in the Mid- Nineteenth Century,” History of Education Quarterly 53, no . 1 (February 2013): 45–63; Kim Tolley, “Music Teachers in the North Carolina Education Market, 1800–1840: How Mrs . Sambourne Earned a ‘Comfort- able Living for Herself and her Children,’ ” Social Science History 32, no . 1 (Spring 2008): 75–106 .

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providing extra income for their ministers and new members for their churches 21. In 1801, they founded the Hillsborough Academy, a coeducational school .22 Sixteen years later, Dr . Webb constructed a log schoolhouse on his five-acre estate so that his neighbor, Mary (Polly) Burke could conduct a day school for his children and their friends . It closed in 1834, when Burke moved to Alabama .23 The Hillsborough Academy remained in operation during this time, but in 1825, its superintendent decided to turn it into an all-male institution . In response, community leaders built a brick schoolhouse on land owned by the town along Margaret Lane, applied for a state charter, and appointed William Mercer Green, the new Episcopalian rector, to become superintendent of the Hillsborough Female Academy . That school, run by Maria Louisa Spear, was well established and highly regarded by 1837 .24 The fact that their school was in direct competition with the Episcopal school forced the Burwells to tailor their curriculum and set their fees with that in mind . The curriculum of the Burwell School, like that of the Female Academy, was divided into four years of study . In the first two years, students received instruction in reading, writing, grammar, arithmetic, basic science, and history . Algebra, geometry, astronomy, botany, and philosophy of natural history (biology) were added in the third year . Fourth-year students concentrated on philosophy, chemistry, ancient history, and a class called “Evidences of Christianity ”. 25 In 1839, a year for which there is comparable data, both the Burwell School and the Hillsborough Female Academy charged $17 50. per term for their academic programs, although the academy charged lower tuition to less advanced students 26. Both schools promised instruction in the so-called ornamentals, which typically included music, art, foreign languages (French and Latin), and fancy sewing 27. When the cost of enrolling in the ornamentals was added to the tuition, attending the Female Academy was more expensive than attending the Burwell School because it offered a broader

21 . Nancy Beadie, “Female Students and Denominational Affiliation: Sources of Success and Variation among Nineteenth-Century Academies,” American Journal of Education 107, no . 2 (February 1999): 104 . 22 . Jean B . Anderson, “Hillsborough Academy,” 2006, NCpedia, https://ncpedia .org/hillsborough-academy . 23 . Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, s .v . “Webb, James .” 24 . Hillsborough Academy eventually became known as the Bingham School and then the Caldwell Institute . Anderson, “Hillsborough Academy .” For the founding of the Hillsborough Female Academy, see H . G . Jones with David Southern, Miss Mary’s Money: Fortune and Misfortune in a North Carolina Plantation Family, 1760– 1924 (Jefferson, N C. :. McFarland and Co ,. 2015), 37–38; Coon, North Carolina Schools, 300; and Sylvia D . Hoffert, “Earnest Efforts to Be Friends: Teacher-Student Relationships in the Nineteenth-Century South,” Journal of Southern History 84, no . 4 (November 2018): 818–821 . 25 . Circular and Catalogue of Mr. and Mrs. Burwell’s Female School [1848–1851] (Raleigh: N C. . Institute for the Deaf and Dumb and the Blind, 1851), 9 . 26 . Coon, North Carolina Schools, 309, 321 . Less advanced students at the Hillsborough Female Academy paid from $12 .50 to $15 per term . Coon, North Carolina Schools, 309 . 27 . Kim Tolley, “The Significance of the ‘French School’ in Early National Female Education,” in The Founding Fathers, Education, and “The Great Contest”: The American Philosophical Society Prize of 1797, ed . Benjamin Justice (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013), 135–154 .

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ornamental curriculum . The amount of money a parent could be expected to pay depended, of course, on the number of such classes their daughter took . If their daughter enrolled in all of the classes available at the Burwell School in 1839, the cost was $50 per term 28. For the same period, the Hillsborough Female Academy charged its students as much as $60 29. Thus, the income the Burwells could expect during any one term depended on how many students they enrolled, the number of boarders they could accommodate, the number of ornamental classes they could convince the parents of their students to pay for, and the conditions of employment outlined in the contracts they signed with the teachers they hired to teach music, drawing, and foreign languages . Anna could not run the school by herself . When she married, she lost the right to sign contracts . The legal principle describing her condition was called “coverture”— a concept of marital unity that held that when a woman married she became “one person in law” with her husband and lost the right to control property .30 Therefore, the Burwell School had to be run as a partnership . It seems, however, that Anna acted as the senior partner while her husband fulfilled his ministerial and civic responsibilities . Robert both ministered to the spiritual needs of his congregants and handled the administrative duties of the church . Besides preaching, conducting weddings and funerals, visiting the sick, and counseling those in need of his advice, he served as moderator of the session, the governing body of his church composed of its most prominent members, whom he called together whenever the need arose . During their meetings, they admitted new members, approved the transfer of membership of congregants to other churches, and disciplined others for such unchristian conduct as slave trading, drunkenness, swearing, horse racing, gambling, and failing to attend

28 . The Burwell School charged $25 for music, $10 for drawing, and $15 for French lessons . Coon, North Carolina Schools, 321 . Adjusted for inflation, $50 was worth about $1,075 in 2016 . The Inflation Calculator, https://westegg com/inf. lation/ . The Burwells raised their price for French to $25 in 1840 . Raleigh North Carolina Standard, June 17, 1840, p . 1 . 29 . The Hillsborough Female Academy charged $25 for piano or guitar lessons, $12 for drawing and paint- ing, $15 for French, $5 for working on canvas, and $3 for working on muslin per term . Coon, North Carolina Schools, 309 . Adjusted for inflation, $60 was worth about $1,290 in 2016 . The Inflation Calculator, https:// westegg com/inf. lation/ . By comparison, in 1840, Phipps Union Female Seminary in Albion, New York, charged about $20 per quarter for French, Latin, piano, guitar, drawing, painting, and needlework classes . Beadie, “Female Students,” 111 n . 23 . There is no information on how much the Burwells charged for board- ing in 1839 . There is no evidence to indicate that the Hillsborough Female Academy boarded students . 30 . For a summary of the legal status of married women in the early nineteenth century, see Elizabeth Bowles Warbasse, The Changing Legal Rights of Married Women, 1800–1861 (New York: Garland Publishing, 1987), 1–56; and Richard H . Chused, “Married Women’s Property Law: 1800–1850,” Georgetown Law Journal 71 (June 1983): 1359–1426 . North Carolina did not pass a married women’s property act changing this situation until after the Civil War . Warbasse, Changing Legal Rights, 167 .

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Pen and ink sketch of Burwell School courtesy of Burwell School Historic Site .

church regularly . The session, which was responsible for the financial well-being of the church, also set the minister’s salary and kept track of church finances .31 At the same time, Robert took an interest in community affairs . He was one of the founding members of the Hillsborough Literary Society, an organization intended to encourage social intercourse among its members and provide them with a source of intellectual stimulation 32. He also joined the Washington Temperance Society, which hoped to “snatch” the town’s male citizens “from a drunkard’s grave .” That goal was at first enthusiastically supported, but its initial appeal could not be sustained . Robert Burwell could only stand by and watch as liquor sales resumed and the tavern business again flourished .33 Despite his public presence, Robert was a quiet, bookish, unassertive man so dominated by his energetic and outgoing wife that at least one school vendor assumed

31 . Hillsborough Presbyterian Church Session Records, typescript, Books 1 and 2, Hillsborough Presbyterian Church, Hillsborough, N .C . 32 . Hillsborough Recorder, January 27, 1842, p . 3 . 33 . Hillsborough Recorder, November 17, 1842, p . 3 . For more on southern Presbyterians and temperance, see Loveland, Southern Evangelicals and the Social Order, 141–144 .

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she was a widow 34. In the absence of evidence to the contrary, this assumption was justified . Standing at almost six feet tall, the robust Anna was as imposing a figure as any man . And, like a propertied widow who managed her own estate, she presented herself as a thoroughly competent businesswoman able to negotiate the best prices for the supplies she needed and clearly in charge of the material resources of her business and its labor force 35. Nevertheless, Robert negotiated business contracts . For example, while it was Anna who wrote the recruitment advertisements for the school, it was Robert who placed them in area newspapers such as the Hillsborough Recorder, the Wilmington Advertiser, the Raleigh Register, the Raleigh North Carolina Standard, and the Newbern Spectator.36 His efforts in this regard were straightforward . “We do not do much puffing,” he told his sister in 1843 .37 He must have been pleased, however, when an anonymous article promoting the virtues of the Burwell School appeared in the Hillsborough Recorder and was reprinted in the North Carolina Standard in June 1846 . “Mr . and Mrs . Burwell’s School for Young Ladies affords us great advantages for acquiring a thorough and finished education as any Seminary in the State,” it said . Accompanying the article was an unsolicited letter of support from the Rev . Dr . Alexander Wilson, president of the Caldwell Institute, a boy’s school in Hillsborough . “I have very little confidence in newspaper puffs about schools,” Wilson began, “but it seems sometimes to be expedient to attempt to notice a school so worthy of patronage as that of Mr . and Mrs . Burwell ”. He had taken the opportunity on the spur of the moment, he said, to observe Anna Burwell teaching one of her classes . As he watched her students read and interpret Milton’s Paradise Lost, he was impressed by their command of the English language .38 While Robert was ultimately responsible for settling the school’s accounts, it appears that Anna paid many of the bills, perhaps because her husband was not particularly efficient in carrying out this task . In a letter to one of their daughters, Anna wrote, “Your Father somehow don’t dispatch the business in school & tho I get done my share at two o’clock he is every day till three & after .”39

34 . Burwell, “Record of Burwell and Robertson Descendants,” 4 . 35 . Burwell, “Record of Burwell and Robertson Descendants,” 2; Kirsten E . Wood, Masterful Women: Slave- holding Widows from the American Revolution through the Civil War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004), 83–102 . 36 . For examples of the ads, see Coon, North Carolina Schools, 320–322; Hillsborough Recorder, June 21, 1848, p . 3; and Raleigh North Carolina Standard, June 14, 1848, p . 4 . Diary of Anna Burwell (hereinafter Burwell diary), December 10, 1855, Burwell School Archives . 37 . Robert Burwell to Fanny Burwell, July 12, 1843, Box 1, Folder 34, Burwell-Catlett Papers, Department of Manuscripts and Rare Books, Earl Gregg Swem Library, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Va . 38 . Raleigh North Carolina Standard, June 24, 1846, p . 1 . 39 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, November 27, 1855, Anna Burwell Letters, Burwell School Archives .

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Finally, Robert negotiated contracts with teachers who could conduct classes in the ornamentals . He had three options when dealing with this issue . He could hire a specialized instructor from somewhere other than Hillsborough, arrange board for the instructor either in his home or somewhere in the community, and pay him or her a fee to teach students on site . Alternatively, he could contract with a local teacher to teach in his or her home or teach classes in the school . Or, in order to spare the expense of hiring someone, he could arranging for a family member to teach . Antebellum school administrators often utilized the knowledge and skills of family members to keep costs down . Jacob Mordecai exploited the labor of his wife and his children to help him run the Warrenton Female Academy 40. The Reverend Elijah Brainerd and his son C . C . Brainerd, who purchased the Warrenton Female Academy in 1825, did the same .41 In Hillsborough, Maria Spear, the principal of the Hillsborough Female Academy, employed her sister Elizabeth from 1835 to at least 1839 to teach music, drawing, and painting . An advertisement placed in the Raleigh Register promised that Elizabeth’s qualifications had been “fully tested” and were “of the highest order .”42 Turnover in ornamental teachers was disruptive, and hiring replacements could be expensive . It is not clear who taught the ornamentals when the Burwell School opened, but an advertisement placed in the Raleigh Register in 1839 announced that the school had secured the services of a Mr . Egidius Winhler, a native of Germany, to instruct students in music and drawing .43 By 1843, Winhler was gone, and Robert had arranged for his sister Bettie to teach music . The Burwells did not pay her a salary but did provide room and board . They also agreed that the fees their students paid for music lessons would go to her . Should enrollment in music lessons be insufficient, they agreed that she would be permitted to teach French in order to supplement her income . Even though Bettie felt underutilized because of the lack of students, apparently, she was pleased with her situation, though she was not willing to stay permanently .44 In 1846, the Burwells were sending their students to a neighbor to take piano lessons .45 They hired Antonio De Martino to teach music, drawing, painting, and

40 . Falk, “Warrenton Female Academy,” 281–298; Bingham and Richards, “The Female Academy and Beyond,” 174–197 . 41 . Jones, Miss Mary’s Money, 38–39 . 42 . Coon, North Carolina Schools, 308; Jones, Miss Mary’s Money, 205 n . 42; Phebe Kirkland to Eliza Johnston, November 9, 1835, Correspondence, 1835–1837, Box 2, Folder 14, Eliza Mary Bond Weissinger Papers #4443, Southern Historical Collection, Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill . It is not clear what the financial arrangements were . 43 . Coon, North Carolina Schools, 321 . 44 . Mary C . Burwell to Fanny Burwell, November 22, 1842, Box 1, Folder 23; Mary C . Burwell to Fanny Burwell, April 3, 1843, Box 1, Folder 30, both in Burwell-Catlett Papers . 45 . Anna Burwell to Mary A . Kirkland, January 17, 1846, Anna Burwell Letters .

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foreign language in 1848, but Sarah Kollock, a former Burwell student, took over his duties as French and drawing instructor sometime thereafter . When she left in 1851, one of the Burwell daughters replaced her temporarily 46. Between 1851 and 1855, the Burwells employed three different instructors—Julius L . Kem, Major Frederick Zerrlant, and R . Vampill 47. The employment of single male teachers carried potential risks . Southern parents assumed that those who ran academies would serve as surrogate parents and monitor their students’ access to young men as a way of protecting their chastity 48. Anna attempted to fulfill those expectations by chaperoning her students when they went out in public and restricting the visitors they could entertain on school property . “We are not allowed to go out without Mrs . B . for fear we will meet an [Caldwell] Institute boy and we are not to stay in the piazza when the Chapel Hill students are up here,” one of her students complained in 1850 . “Mr . & Mrs . Burwell do not like for the brothers from Chapel Hill to visit their sisters and as for letting cousins see each other here she never thinks of such a thing ”. 49 Try as she might to discourage her students’ romantic fantasies and limit their contact with the opposite sex, it was impossible for her to supervise her students every moment of every day . So it was with great consternation that Anna wrote in her diary in October 1855, “At night heard of Mr . Vampill’s improper conduct to some of the girls ”. It is unclear what she was referring to, but whatever it was resulted in his immediate dismissal . The Burwell’s daughter Nan (Ann Robertson Burwell) filled in until they could convince another music teacher to come to Hillsborough 50. The negotiations with Vampill’s replacement were long, tortuous, and expensive . Robert offered R . F . Hunt the position in November of 1855 . At the time, the music master was teaching at the Oakland Institute in Norristown, Pennsylvania 51. The Burwells heard nothing more from him until January . “Mr . Hunt has not come, this has been a source of much anxiety to us,” Anna confessed in a letter to her daughter . “He agreed to come the first of the session & we expected him but instead of coming he wrote that Mr . Ralston was so incenced against him for leaving that he

46 . “Female School in Hillsboro’, N .C .,” Raleigh North Carolina Standard, June 14, 1848, p . 4; Mary H . Pearce to William H . Tillingast, September 27, 1851, quoted in Engstrom, Book of Burwell Students, 124 . 47 . “Instructors,” Circular and Catalog of Mr. and Mrs. Burwell’s Female School, [1]; Burwell diary, February 21, 28, March 2, 5, 9, July 16, 18, August 17, 1855 . 48 . Stowe, “Elite Women’s Education and Family Feeling in the Old South,” 92–98; Robert Elder, The Sacred Mirror: Evangelicalism, Honor, and Identity in the Deep South, 1790–1860 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2016), 90–93 . 49 . Kate to Lizzie Roberson, October 1, 1850, Burwell School Archives . 50 . Burwell diary, October 10, 11, 1855; Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, January 25, 1856, Anna Burwell Letters . Vampill threatened to sue Robert, presumably for breach of contract, but they ultimately came to an agreement without hiring lawyers and going to court . Burwell diary, October 14, 17, 1855 . 51 . “Mr . and Mrs . Burwell’s School,” Hillsborough Recorder, January 23, 1856, p . 3; Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, November 27, 1855, Anna Burwell Letters .

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Photograph of the Burwell School music building courtesy of Burwell School Historic Site .

would not pay him what he owed him till April & he had no means of paying his debts or of coming unless he could sell his instruments which he should try to do ”. To make matters worse, Hunt announced that he had a lucrative second offer from a schoolmaster in Mississippi . Robert dealt with the problem by advancing Hunt, a man he had never met, one hundred dollars .52 Hunt finally arrived in early February 1856 and immediately began teaching . “The best of it is,” Anna wrote, “that we have now scholars enough to make his salary even if no more come . Thirteen music scholars at $25 per session is $325, then five in French is $60—& two drawing scholars makes the $800 a year within ten dollars ”. 53 While her husband negotiated school contracts, Anna assumed responsibility for all other matters relating to school administration . She evaluated the academic

52 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, January 25, 1856, Anna Burwell Letters . See also Burwell diary, January 22, February 6, 7, 1856 . One hundred dollars in 1855 adjusted for inflation equaled about $2,712 in 2016 . See The Inflation Calculator, https://westegg .com/inflation/ . 53 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, February 8, 1856, Anna Burwell Letters . $25 in 1856 adjusted for inflation equaled $678 in 2016; $325 equaled about $8,813; $60 equaled about $1,627; $800 equaled about $21,692 . The Inflation Calculator, https://westegg .com/inflation/ .

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preparation and accomplishments of her students; allocated classroom space; scheduled classes; assured that Burwell students were properly housed, fed, and clothed; tended to their health as well as their spiritual well-being; ordered school and domestic supplies; kept detailed records of her students’ progress, expenses, and spending money; accounted for school income and expenditures; dealt with dissatisfied parents; and tried to manage the household help . She performed all these duties while she bore a child every other year or so, supported her husband’s ministry, offered gracious hospitality to whoever might stop by her house, attended church and prayer meetings, visited the sick and needy, volunteered her time to local benevolent societies, and worried about the state of her soul and those of her children and students . There were no admissions standards for young women hoping to enroll in the Burwell School . Sometimes parents wrote to announce that they intended to send their daughters to study in Hillsborough . Other times, they just arrived with their daughters in tow . Whatever the case, it was Anna’s job to assess their preparedness and appearance and determine the best way to educate them while she turned them into ladies . There were a variety of challenges inherent in such efforts . When a young woman arrived unexpectedly at the beginning of the spring term in January 1856, Anna wrote to her daughter Fanny: “Yesterday afternoon as I was sitting in my recess at work one of the little boys said ‘Mother a man wants to see you ’. ” By his side was a girl whom Anna found to be totally unpresentable:

You could smell her hair & the girls say she sleeps in every thing she wears except her dress & shoes & stockings . . . . She plays on the Piano—that is puts her foot on the Pedal and makes a rumbling—I’ll report her improvement which I flatter myself will be perceptible in a short time—at any rate her hair is to be cleansed & oiled instead of wet—& her clothes made to fit her .54

A few weeks later she reported that the girl “still looks like a stray one, so dirty that it will take a month to get her skin & hair to look like other people’s .”55 Without admissions requirements, maintaining both rigorous academic standards and high enrollment was a challenge . Some girls flourished . Others had difficulty . When parents were dissatisfied, it was up to Anna to smooth their ruffled feathers . She wrote to her daughter in 1856:

We have had, I suspect, a final difficulty with the Jones children . I wrote you that Mary Jones had come back to school . Mrs . Jones requested that she should join the class she left a session ago . I told her I was afraid the studies would be too hard for Mary, as the class had progressed steadily . . . . Well! She joined the class, & sure enough could not recite a single lesson just sat looking about & fooling while Mr . B . and I would be trying to explain the lessons .

54 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, January 19, 1856, Anna Burwell Letters . 55 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, February 4, 1856, Anna Burwell Letters .

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Mary complained to her father that her lessons in astronomy were too difficult, so he sent a message to the Burwells asking that she be excused from the class . When Robert refused, Jones sent another note announcing that he was removing his daughter from school . Concerned about the financial and social repercussions of the incident, Anna wrote a note to Mary’s mother: “I told her . . . that I did not write . . . to induce her to send Mary back, for Dr . Jones had once before seemed dissatisfied with our assignments, but merely to show her that Mr . B . said what he did without intending any offence .”56 As headmistress and surrogate mother, whose job it was to ensure the unsullied reputations of her students, she made sure the clothes they wore were modest, age appropriate, and in good taste 57. Accomplishing this gender-specific task often placed her in the difficult financial position of ordering dresses or accessories on their behalf and, in the process, implicitly guaranteeing payment when her financial resources could barely cover the cost of outfitting her own children . In the late 1830s, Sally Mangum, one of her students, wrote to her father, “Mrs . Burwell told me to write to you this evening, and tell you, please to send the mony, to pay for my cloths, I cannot get them made, unless I pay for them directly they are done . Mrs . Burwell says that she would advance the mony with pleasure, but she says that she has not got any .”58 In 1840, without her father’s permission, Sally asked Anna to buy her a hat . Anna had ordered the bonnet and expected to be reimbursed . Sally wrote to her father again, stating that she felt bound to take the hat and begged him to let her keep it . She would offer all her pocket money for the next two school sessions to reimburse Anna .59 Despite the complications inherent in procuring new clothes for her students, Anna persisted in placing orders for them, knowing that the way they appeared in public was a reflection on her . In April 1852, another student wrote to her sister that Anna had ordered white linen bonnets from a milliner in Petersburg for the girls at the school . “Mine is going to be trimed with pink,” she said . “I told Mrs . Burwell that I had thought some of having it trimed with white, but Mrs . Burwell said that she thought that white looked too old for a school girl, and it is also going to do for a summer and a winter bonnet ”. 60

56 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, February 8, 1856, Anna Burwell Letters . Mary Cameron Jones was the daughter of Dr . Pride Jones of Hillsborough . Engstrom, Book of Burwell Students, 117 . 57 . See specific references to appropriate dress in the 1861 catalog of the Charlotte Female Institute, where Anna served as matron . Catalogue of the Charlotte Female Institute, Charlotte, N.C., for the Session 1860–61 (Raleigh, N .C .: W . W . Holden, 1861), 13 . 58 . Sally A . Mangum to Willie P . Mangum, May 4, [1835 or 1837], in Sandra Lee Kurtinitis, “Sally Alston Mangum Leach: A Profile of a Plantation Mistress as Revealed through the Correspondence of the Family of William P . Mangum,” 2 vols . (Ph .D . diss ., George Washington University, 1986), 1:249 . 59 . Sally A . Mangum to Willie P . Mangum, May 2, [1840], in Kurtinitis, “Sally Alston Mangum Leach,” 1:253–254 . 60 . Elizabeth Coit to her sister, April 10, 1852, in Engstrom, Book of Burwell Students, 70–71 .

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Photograph of Sally Alston Mangum (1824–1896) courtesy of Burwell School Historic Site .

Like many southern evangelical women, Anna considered herself responsible for the spiritual well-being of those in her household 61. Presbyterians in North Carolina supported efforts to evangelize the unchurched but were less likely than the Methodists and Baptists to do so with revivals . Instead, they embraced Sunday schools and Bible study classes to nurture spiritual growth and recruit church members 62. Sunday schools appeared in the United States in the 1790s . They were originally intended to provide a basic education for poor, working children but eventually evolved into places where those who had taken steps to assure their salvation could guide others in the same direction . Sunday school teachers were expected to instill in their students a sense of their duty to God, an understanding of the Bible, and an appreciation of the value of personal accountability as a way of preparing themselves for church membership . Bible classes were an integral part of the Sunday school institutional structure designed to recruit and train teachers . They provided a place

61 . Scott Stephan, Redeeming the Southern Family: Evangelical Women and Domestic Devotion in the Antebellum South (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2008), 1–2 . 62 . Walter H . Conser Jr . and Robert J . Cain, Presbyterians in North Carolina: Race, Politics, and Religious Identity in Historical Perspective (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 2012), 51–52, 60–61 .

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where those who did not want to attend classes with young children could continue their Christian education in anticipation of joining the church 63. As Anya Jabour has pointed out, southern parents were concerned about the state of their daughters’ souls and hoped that they would embrace the possibility of spiritual rebirth and a religious conversion while they were at school 64. Parents who feared transferring their spiritual stewardship to a stranger had little reason to be concerned that their daughters’ religious education would be neglected at the Burwell School . Anna’s attempts to guarantee her students’ spiritual well-being were constant and heartfelt . She evangelized them individually and regularly held Bible study classes, but few seemed inclined to spiritual self-examination . Their lack of receptiveness to her spiritual ministry constantly disappointed her . “I spent the evening in the Parlor with the girls,” she wrote in her diary one cold January night just before she went to bed . “Oh that I could realize more my responsibility about these young immortals, that I care more for their souls ”. 65 She continued to be discouraged about the impact of her efforts, noting that they seemed relatively unconcerned about “eternal things .”66 Anna not only purchased items for her students but also kept accounts regarding the small sums of pocket money her students’ parents left with her to pay for their daughters’ miscellaneous expenses, such as the purchase of candy and ribbons . Small sums ranging from fifteen cents for a melon and some postage to $2 50. for a sewing book made their way into her ledger .67 At the end of the term, she had to make a final accounting . “You know tis the last of the session & tonight I’ve had all those tedious pocket money accs to make out, all the store accs to look over, the sewing work bills to make out, & it has taken me ever since supper,” Anna wrote to her daughter in November 1855 68. Since she always seemed to be short of cash, she constantly worried about collecting tuition money, settling debts, and paying for unexpected expenses . “Money seems scarce for our patrons dont pay as much as usual in advance, but it comes certainly at the end of the session,” she wrote to Fanny in 1856 . “This want of ready money worries us (me especially) very much, for you know how the market is here, if you don’t buy when tis offered, you may have to do without when you need it ”. 69

63 . Anne M . Boylan, Sunday School: The Formation of an American Institution, 1790–1880 (New Haven, Conn .: Yale University Press, 1988); Loveland, Southern Evangelicals and the Social Order, 33–35 . 64 . Jabour, Scarlett’s Sisters, 39–43 . 65 . Burwell diary, January 26, 1855 . 66 . Burwell diary, September 2, 1855 . 67 . For references to shopping, see Burwell diary, [March 6, 1846], May 2, 15, 1855; “Mary Bailey Easley’s Pocket Money Account,” in Engstrom, Book of Burwell Students, 86–87 . 68 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, November 27, 1855, Anna Burwell Letters . 69 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, March 4, 1856, Anna Burwell Letters .

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Annie Ruffin Cameron (1842–1915) likely attended the Burwell School during its closing years of 1856 and 1857, when she was about fourteen or fifteen . Photograph courtesy of Burwell School Historic Site .

Money received was often disbursed within hours of its receipt . “Mr . B . had a sum of money to pay for corn and did not know where it was to come from—it was due this very day and yesterday we did not know—Sarah Smith intended coming—today her father paid her board and Mr . B . paid his debt,” Anna wrote in her diary in February 1846 .70 A little over a month later, when their well caved in, she succumbed to despondency over the expense that fixing it would entail 71. Early in the spring of 1848, Robert announced that he intended to resign his pastorate to devote more time to the school 72. In a letter to the session, he wrote, “After much thought on the subject, I have concluded to apply to Presbytery to dissolve the connection existing between myself and the Hillsboro’ church . You are in possession of my reasons and can explain them to the congregation .”73 No doubt his reasons included the fact that the church owed him over six hundred dollars for salary in arrears and improvements he had made to the manse . At their meeting, the session discussed the situation and agreed to transfer ownership of the manse

70 . Burwell diary, February 13, 1846 . 71 . Burwell diary, [March 20, 1846] . 72 . Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, s .v . “Burwell, Robert Armistead”; Burwell, “Record of Burwell and Robertson Descendants,” p . [1] . 73 . Robert Burwell to Dear Brethren, March 30, 1848, Burwell School Archives .

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to him but insisted on reserving title to the property until his bond was paid 74. As the congregation looked for “a pastor who would be able to devote his whole time to his pastoral and ministerial duties,” Robert signed a deed purchasing the manse and its two acres of grounds from the trustees of the church on credit and hired Hillsborough architect John Berry to renovate and enlarge the building 75. In July 1850, he put up the school and some of his slaves as security to borrow $2,500 to pay for the renovations 76. Mortgaging slaves was common in the antebellum South . It allowed slave owners access to local credit sources while retaining a slave’s labor, appreciation, and reproductive potential 77. The slaves could be sold if their master failed to pay off his debts in time . Robert paid off his debt before his note came due, thus securing both his human property and his real estate . He expanded his real estate holdings in 1855, when he purchased two lots on the north side of Union Street 78. Robert’s capital investments did nothing to help Anna pay the bills . She expressed her distress in her diary . “After supper went down street to pay off some money . Paid Mr . Webb’s bill, feel greatly discouraged at my prospects, Mr . B . gives me money and I owe so much that paying debts takes it all and then I hate to go for more ”. 79 When Robert bought the children a carriage, she considered it an unnecessary extravagance, particularly since she was trying so hard to save money 80. Shortly thereafter, she wrote, “Mr . Sanders came and brought his two nieces to school . . . . This is a mercy as we are now pressed for money .”81 She ended a particularly stressful week by observing, “Money matters are at the bottom of all the trouble . I see, yet I cannot see, how any reasonable person can expect me to do better than I do .”82

74 . Hillsborough Presbyterian Church Congregation Meeting, March 30 [1848], Hillsborough Presbyterian Church Session Records, typescript, Book 2, p . 39 . His salary was $217 13. in arrears . William J . Bingham and Osmond F . Long, trustees of the Presbyterian Church, to Robert Burwell, December 4, 1848, Orange County Deed Book 33, pp . 353–354, Office of the County Clerk, Hillsborough, N .C . 75 . Hillsborough Presbyterian Church Congregational Meeting, November 26, 1848, Hillsborough Pres- byterian Church Session Records, typescript, Book 2, p . 41 . Ministers who attempted to supplement their incomes by engaging in teaching, the trades, or farming often found themselves open to charges that they were neglecting their congregations . Beth Barton Schweiger, The Gospel Working Up: Progress and the Pulpit in Nineteenth-Century Virginia (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 24 . William J . Bingham and Osmond F . Long to Robert Burwell, December 4, 1848, Orange County Deed Book 33, pp . 353–354; Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, s .v . “Burwell, Robert Armistead .” 76 . Robert Burwell to Thomas Webb, July 16, 1850, Orange County Deed Book 33, pp . 486–487; Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, s v. . “Burwell, Robert Armistead ”. $2,500 in 1848 adjusted for inflation would have been worth about $70,400 in 2016 . The Inflation Calculator, https://westegg .com/inflation/ . 77 . Bonnie Martin, “Neighbor-to-Neighbor Capitalism: Local Credit Networks and the Mortgaging of Slaves,” in Slavery’s Capitalism: A New History of American Economic Development, ed . Sven Beckert and Seth Rockman (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016), 107–121 . 78 . Samuel Holeman to Robert Burwell, October 1, 1855, Orange County Deed Book 34, p . 590 . 79 . Burwell diary, January 20, 1855 . 80 . Burwell diary, March 7, 1855 . 81 . Burwell diary, March 9, 1855 . 82 . Burwell diary, [March 13, 1855]

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Considering the size of the Burwell family, occasional visits from relatives who could stay for weeks at a time, and the presence of boarders, the amount of laundry, food preparation, mending, cleaning, gardening, butchering, and child care required to run the school must have been staggering 83. The Burwells’ slaves and those borrowed or hired from their family and neighbors provided the labor force necessary to operate their household and school . The couple also hired members of the free black community . It is unclear how many slaves lived with them at any one time during the twenty-two years they resided in Hillsborough 84. When the Burwells arrived in Hillsborough, the issue of slavery dominated religion as well as politics in North Carolina . The Presbyterian Church in the Piedmont encouraged the religious instruction of slaves and accommodated them in their church services . But as early as 1828, the Orange Presbytery, where Hillsborough was located, absolved itself of any responsibility for their treatment, noting that the issue was a matter of “civil, not ecclesiastical authority ”. 85 In 1837, a schism divided the national Presbyterian Church into two factions, one conservative (called Old School) and the other more liberal (called New School) . A variety of issues served as the basis for this split, including controversies over church doctrine, interdenominational cooperation, revivals, and church law . A contributing factor, though not a central one, was the desire of many southern Presbyterians to remove the discussion of slavery from the church’s agenda .86

83 . Anna Burwell bore twelve children between 1832 and 1853 . Her mother-in-law, Mary C . Burwell, visited Hillsborough from March through the summer of 1843 . See Mary C . Burwell to Fanny Burwell, March 15, 1843, Box 1, Folder 29; April 3, 1843, Box 1, Folder, 30, and Elizabeth Margaret Burwell to Fanny Burwell, July 6, 1843, Box 1, Folder 32, all in Burwell-Catlett Papers . The number of boarders varied . In 1843, there were twenty-two students, including seven boarders, which is all they could accommodate . Robert Burwell to Fanny Burwell, July 12, 1843, Burwell-Catlett Papers . During the first term in 1856, there were twenty board- ers . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, March 15, 1856, Anna Burwell Letters . 84 . In 1840, Robert Burwell reported that he had six slaves in his household (listed in Ancestry com. under the name of Robert Barnwell) . Manuscript Returns, Sixth Census of the United States, 1840: Orange County, North Carolina, Southern Division, Population Schedule, National Archives, Washington, D C. ,. Microfilm Roll 367, p . 213, Image 441 . There were eleven slaves in his household in 1850 [listed in Ancestry . com under the name of Robert Berrwell] . Manuscript Census Returns, Seventh Census of the United States, 1850: Orange County, North Carolina, First District, Slave Schedule, National Archives, M653, Record Group 21 . In 1860, he listed at least eleven slaves in his household in Charlotte . Manuscript Census Returns, Eighth Census of the United States, 1860: Mecklenburg County, North Carolina, Slave Schedule, National Archives, Microfilm Roll 653 . Anna Burwell’s diary in 1846, 1855, and 1856 mentions thirty or so slaves and free people of color who worked at the school . For more on slavery in the North Carolina Piedmont, see John David Smith, “ ‘I Was Raised Poor and Hard as Any Slave’: African American Slavery in Piedmont North Carolina,” North Carolina Historical Review 90, no . 1 (January 2013): 1–25; and Daniel L . Fountain, “A Broader Footprint: Slavery and Slaveholding Households in Antebellum Piedmont North Carolina,” North Carolina Historical Review 91, no . 4 (October 2014): 407–444 . 85 . Conser and Cain, Presbyterians in North Carolina, 76–77 (quotation, p . 77) . 86 . Mitchell Snay, Gospel of Disunion: Religion and Separatism in the Antebellum South (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 115–126; C . C . Goen, Broken Churches, Broken Nation: Denominational Schisms and the Coming of the Civil War (Macon, Ga :. Mercer University Press, 1985), 68–78 .

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Photograph of Hillsborough Presbyterian Church from the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D C. .

Neither of the Burwells expressed any moral qualms about using slave labor . They both grew up in slaveholding households, where slavery was believed to have been sanctioned by God and a slaveholding ethic held that masters were obliged to take care of their slaves in return for their labor .87 They bought, sold, borrowed, and mortgaged slaves . There is no evidence that either one catechized their servants . And the admittedly incomplete session records of Hillsborough’s Presbyterian church suggest that during his tenure as pastor, Robert baptized no blacks and admitted only one into membership .88 While Robert sanctioned and used corporal punishment to discipline those they held in servitude, Anna appears to have confined herself to verbal abuse . The testimony of one of their slaves, combined with Anna’s letters and diary entries, indicate that the Burwell household was the site of what Thavolia

87 . The household of John Bott, the man in whose home Anna Robertson Burwell was reared, had ten slaves in 1820 . Manuscript Census Returns, Fourth Census of the United States, 1820: Petersburg, Virginia, Population Schedule, National Archives, Microfilm Roll M33_139, p . 102, Image 115 . The household of Armistead Burwell, where Robert was reared, had eighteen slaves in 1820 . Fourth Census of the United States, 1820: Dinwiddie, Virginia, National Archives, Microfilm Roll: M33_137, p . 1006, Image 17 . For a more extensive discussion of the slaveholding ethic of southern Christians, see John B . Boles, ed ., Masters and Slaves in the House of the Lord: Race and Religion in the American South, 1740–1870 (Louisville: University Press of Kentucky, 1988); Mathews, Religion in the Old South, 142–152 . 88 . Hillsborough Presbyterian Church Session Records, October 7, 1845, typescript, Book 2, p . 36 .

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Glymph has called “a kind of warring intimacy,” in which slaves endured systematic violence for real or imagined transgressions, ranging from snide remarks and petty cruelties to life-threatening beatings .89 The Burwells brought an eighteen-year-old domestic slave named Elizabeth Hobbs with them to Hillsborough . By 1840, Lizzy was one of six slaves working in their school 90. In her memoir, Behind the Scenes, or Thirty Years a Slave, and Four Years in the White House, published in 1868, she devoted a whole chapter to the violence she suffered in the Burwell household, chronicling in vivid and lurid detail the physical abuse she endured at the instigation of what she described as her “morbidly sensitive,” insecure, and callous mistress . “I did the work of three servants,” she wrote, “and yet I was scolded and regarded with mistrust ”. When Anna wanted Elizabeth whipped, Robert sent her to the village schoolmaster . When she refused to take down her dress, he tore it from her back, picked up his rawhide, and plied it freely across her shoulders . She returned home only to have Robert throw a chair at her when she asked why she had been beaten . The beatings stopped, she said, when it became apparent that they were ineffective in quelling her “proud, rebellious spirit ”. 91 It seems apparent that the Burwells did nothing to shield Elizabeth from the unwanted attentions of their dissolute neighbor, Alexander Kirkland, who eventually raped her . After she bore Kirkland’s son, Robert sent her back to Virginia . She eventually moved with Robert’s sister and her family to St . Louis, where she supported them by designing and constructing dresses for the city’s elite . There, she married James Keckly and earned her freedom . Elizabeth then moved to Washington, D C. ,. where she became a well-respected modiste, Mary Todd Lincoln’s dressmaker, and a prominent member of the capital’s black elite 92. Anna’s difficulties in managing her domestic staff had serious economic repercussions . As in the case of Lizzy, abuse of her slaves sometimes left them physically unable to carry out their duties . So she verbally berated them when faced with what she perceived to be their malingering, recalcitrance, carelessness,

89 . Thavolia Glymph, Out of the House of Bondage: The Transformation of the Plantation Household (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 32–62 (quotation, p . 37) . 90 . Elizabeth Keckly, Behind the Scenes, Or, Thirty Years a Slave, and Four Years in the White House (New York: G . W . Carleton, 1868), 31–32; Manuscript Census Returns, Sixth Census of the United States, 1840: Orange County, North Carolina, Southern Division, Population Schedule, National Archives, Microfilm Roll 367, p . 213, Image 441 . 91 . Keckly, Behind the Scenes, 32–38 (quotation, p . 38) . 92 . Keckly, Behind the Scenes, 39–90; Sylvia Hoffert, “The Emancipation of Elizabeth Hobbs Keckly: St . Louis, 1847–1860,” Missouri Historical Review 112, no . 4 (July 2018): 243–259; Sylvia D . Hoffert, “After Behind the Scenes: Elizabeth Keckly in Washington, D C. ,. 1868–1907,” paper delivered at the Elizabeth Keckly Sympo- sium, Hillsborough, N C. ,. November 2018; Jennifer Fleischner, Mrs. Lincoln and Mrs. Keckly: The Remarkable Story of the Friendship between a First Lady and a Former Slave (New York: Broadway Books, 2004) . Keckly (some- times spelled Keckley) named her son George Kirkland and listed Alexander Kirkland as her son’s father in her 1863 pension application . Elizabeth Keckly pension application, May 2, 1863, Records of the Veterans’ Administration, National Archives, Washington, D .C .

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Photograph of Elizabeth Hobbs Keckly courtesy of Moorland-Spingarn Research Center, Howard University, Washington, D C. .

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impertinence, and disobedience . “I was very impatient to Mary Ann,” she wrote in her diary on January 5, 1846 . “Scolded her for a fault ”. Self-examination, designed to heighten her awareness of her own shortcomings and provide her the means to seek God’s forgiveness and assure her salvation, forced her to acknowledge that her “impatient temper” remained her “besetting sin,” and in her diary she pledged to be more forbearing .93 Anna continued to find Mary Ann’s service unsatisfactory, but she made no attempt to replace her . Mary Ann had borne four children and was thus a valuable enough asset to be used as collateral for the loan necessary to renovate the Burwell house in 1850 94. Anna was still complaining about Mary Ann’s insolence five years later but was increasingly dependent upon her to run the household 95. Mary Ann’s confinement in late December 1855 left Anna desperate for help 96. When Robert made it clear that she would have to give up teaching and manage the house herself, she shuffled her staff around and hired another servant 97. Mary Ann remained in the household throughout the Civil War . When she died in 1868 in Charlotte, Anna wrote in her diary, “She was more a friend to me than a servant .”98 The slave woman named Hannah was a different matter . “Hannah absolutely drunk,” Anna wrote in her diary in August 1855 . “So much so that she could not cook supper—greatly harassed to know what we ought to do .”99 Hannah’s propensity to overindulge in alcohol only increased as the school term came to an end and Christmas approached . On December 10, Anna wrote to her daughter that she had gone to the washhouse to get some lard and again found Hannah “tipsy ”. 100 Two days later, she wrote to a slave trader about selling Hannah, but her troublesome slave begged her to give her a chance to sober up 101. When Hannah got drunk on Christmas Day, Anna again considered selling her 102. Hannah remained sober for a while, but Anna’s respite from worry about her was short-lived . “We shall be obliged to sell Hannah,” she wrote in February 1856 . “She is killing herself drinking & we can’t afford to loose all her work . To Richmond she goes as soon as we can make arrangements . It will be a trial & I dread the day, but I have fully made up my mind that we ought to do it, & I’ll go thro’ with it .”103

93 . Burwell diary, January 5, February 10, 1846 . 94 . Robert Burwell to Thomas Webb, July 16, 1850, Orange County Deed Book, 33, pp . 486–487 . 95 . Burwell diary, February 13, 1855 . 96 . Burwell diary, December 29, 1855 . 97 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, January 25, 1856, Anna Burwell Letters . 98 . Burwell diary, October 13, 1868 . 99 . Burwell diary, August 28, 1855; see also October 31, 1855 . 100 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, December 10, 1855, Anna Burwell Letters; see also Burwell diary, December 11, 1855 . 101 . Burwell diary, December 12, 1855 . 102 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, December 29, 1855, Anna Burwell Letters . 103 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, February 8 1856, Anna Burwell Letters .

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Despite Anna’s frustrated efforts to manage her slave laborers, the Burwells’ financial situation was improving by the spring of 1856 . “We have an excellent school, our school now is worth at the rate of $1500 a year for Tuition, we have twenty boarders, & by economy I can make their board support the family, & leave the Tuition to pay off our debts, so that if we can go on so, we shall soon be out of debt, which is the higth of my ambition,” she wrote to her daughter 104. The prospect of living debt free may have been one of the primary incentives that induced Robert to apply for a position as superintendent of a school in Charlotte, which was advertised in the North Carolina Whig in August 1857 . The buildings and grounds had just been improved, the physical plant was worth $18,000 to $20,000, and the school could accommodate sixty-five or seventy students 105. After the Burwells accepted the position, Robert placed an advertisement in the Hillsborough Recorder offering their school, lots, furniture, and school apparatus for sale 106. In 1859, William H . Owen announced that he intended to open a school for boys on the property, but there is no evidence that he did so 107. It was not until 1862 that the Burwells were able to sell their Hillsborough real estate for $3,500 to buyers who intended to use it as their residence 108. The Charlotte Female Academy was larger and charged higher fees than the Burwell School, although its curriculum was very similar . Robert and a teaching staff of six taught the classes, while Anna served as matron and supervised a staff that included slaves 109. The school remained open during the Civil War . In September 1862, Robert wrote to his sister that their school was “doing much better” than they expected . Besides housing and feeding refugees and their servants, they had thirty boarders and thirty-four day scholars and expected five more boarders to arrive shortly . With the price of supplies rising, their most serious problem was trying to find and pay for the provisions required to feed them all 110. Their situation remained

104 . Anna Burwell to Fanny Burwell, March 15, 1856, Anna Burwell Letters . $1,500 in 1856 would have been worth about $40,673 in 2016 . The Inflation Calculator, https://westegg .com/inflation/ . 105 . Advertisement in the North Carolina Whig, August 1857, quoted in Ben Lacy Rose, “The Burwells: Pres- byterian Pioneers in Women’s Education in North Carolina,” paper presented to the Annual Meeting of the North Carolina Presbyterian Historical Society at Peace College, Raleigh, N .C ., 1985, p . 10, North Carolina Collection, Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill . $20,000 adjusted for inflation would have been worth about $523,000 in 2016 . The Inflation Calculator, https://westegg .com/inflation/ . 106 . “Charlotte Female Academy,” Charlotte Western Democrat, November 10, 1857, p . 3; “To Teachers,” Hillsborough Recorder, December 2, 1857, p . 3 . 107 . “Classical School,” Hillsborough Recorder, January 12, 1859, p . 3 . 108 . Robert Burwell to Thomas D . Warren and others, November 15, 1862, Orange County Deed Book 37, pp . 432–433 . 109 . Catalogue of the Charlotte Female Institute, [4]; Manuscript Census Returns, Eighth Census of the United States, 1860: Mecklenburg County, North Carolina, Slave Schedule, National Archives, M653 . People used the words “academy” and “institute” interchangeably to refer to the same school . 110 . Robert Burwell to Anne Powell Burwell Garland, September 23, 1862, Box 2, Folder 77, Burwell-Catlett Papers .

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Advertisement for Charlotte Female Institute from Broadsides and Ephemera Collection, David M . Rubenstein Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Duke University, Durham, N C. .

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much the same as the war progressed . “We have a house full all the time,” Anna wrote her son, “for no matter how charming people are, they must be fed, & cooked for & washed for & cleaned after & all you know comes on me at the last .”111 The school continued to flourish in the postwar period . Sallie Faison, the daughter of a doctor from Duplin County, North Carolina, wrote to her mother that when she arrived in the fall of 1869, she found Anna Burwell welcoming, the teachers attentive, the rooms well furnished and carpeted, and the instruction, particularly that in instrumental music, superior 112. After Anna Burwell died in 1871, Robert left Charlotte for Raleigh, where he and his son, John Bott Burwell, became coprincipals of Peace Institute, now William Peace University . He retired in 1875 and died in Raleigh on March 4, 1895, at the age of ninety-two 113. When she married, Anna Burwell had no reason to anticipate that she would have to engage in business in order to help support her family . But when it became apparent that she could not feed, clothe, or educate her children on her husband’s salary, she leveraged her husband’s position, their moral credibility as a couple, her reputation as an educated woman, and their access to a parsonage to establish a school for young ladies . Money earned from tuition and boarding paid the mortgage on the physical plant that grew to include a dormitory, a separate school building, and an office for her husband . It put food on the table and paid for their sons to go away to school and for one of their daughters to study music in New York City . At the same time, it allowed her to take a leading role in helping to solidify the cultural dominance of North Carolina’s social elite . Assertive, energetic, and resourceful, she played a major and very public role in the economic life of her community without undermining her husband’s claim to manliness or threatening the patriarchal social structure . The work of Christine Heyrman, Charity Carney, Robert Elder, and others helps to explain how this was possible . They have pointed out that evangelical religion presented a challenge to southern patriarchy and its code of honor, exposing the precarious nature of ministerial manhood and forcing clergymen like Robert Burwell to adapt their behavior as southern men to the demands that their religion placed on them . Ministers, and by extension their wives, lived outside the mainstream of southern society in a culture where secular and religious values were often in conflict .

111 . “Extract of a Letter from Mrs . Robert Burwell to her son Edmund S . Burwell, August 12, 1864,” typescript, Burwell School Archives . 112 . Sallie Faison to Ma [Martha Faison], October 2, 31, 1869, Box 3, Folder 35, Henry W . Faison Papers #3789, Southern Historical Collection . 113 . Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, s .v . “Burwell, Robert Armistead”; Burwell, “Record of Burwell and Robertson Descendants,” 29; “Margaret Anna Robertson Burwell,” U S. . Find a Grave Index, 1600s to Cur- rent, https://www .findagrave .com/memorial/36658931/margaret-anna-burwell; “Rev . Robert Armistead Burwell,” U S. . Find a Grave Index, 1600s to Current, https://www f. indagrave com/memorial/3665. 1523/ robert-armistead-burwell; undated obituaries in the Burwell School Archives . The Charlotte Female Institute eventually became Queens University of Charlotte .

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Sometimes unable to adequately support their families in a culture that measured manliness in financial terms and forbidden to participate in such manly activities as drinking, gambling, dueling, and swearing, southern ministers had to define their masculinity using an alternative set of standards . So they adopted the mantel of the spiritual warrior, replacing acts of physical aggression with forceful efforts to spread the Gospel, to combat sin, and to discipline church members . By doing so, they created a clerical version of patriarchy in which a man’s authority was based on spirituality, the power to discipline the members of his church, and scriptural definitions of self-worth that eschewed the pursuit of wealth, the accumulation of property, and the desire for worldly honor in order to serve God 114. In creating this hybrid definition of masculinity, the southern clergy created the opportunity for a woman like Anna Burwell to negotiate an alternative to female gender conventions, one that confirmed her husband’s honor by demanding that she defer to his spiritual and domestic authority but left her free to compensate for his inability to adequately support their family . As Charity Carney has pointed out, it was widely accepted that clerical marriages were partnerships, a concept that both suggested a measure of gender equality in an otherwise hierarchical social structure and enhanced the wife’s authority in the home 115. Based on the premise that it was up to her to make the most of the resources that God and Hillsborough’s Presbyterians provided to feed, clothe, and educate her children, she did what she needed to do to relieve her husband of some of his pecuniary responsibilities so that he could carry out his religious duties . Unlike her contemporary Frances Bumpass, a Methodist minister’s wife in Greensboro who continued publishing her husband’s religious newspaper after his death, Anna did not attempt to publicly justify her entry into the world of commerce 116. There is nothing in the record to indicate that she believed that her entrepreneurial activities undermined her family’s respectability or her husband’s claim to ministerial manhood . He clearly encouraged and endorsed her efforts . Once she established the school, they advertised it as a couple with his name listed first 117. She earned a living but did not disgrace herself by working for wages outside the home . And her husband remained the titular head and symbolic authority of both her family and the school . The fact that her efforts directly served the interests of her community discouraged those around her from objecting to her entry into the world of commerce . By

114 . Christine Leigh Heyrman, Southern Cross: The Beginnings of the Bible Belt (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1997), 206–252; Carney, Ministers and Masters, 1–37, 139; Elder, The Sacred Mirror, 12–41; Ber- tram Wyatt-Brown, The Shaping of Southern Culture: Honor, Grace, and War, 1760s–1890s (Chapel Hill: Univer- sity of North Carolina Press, 2001), 85–86; Loveland, Southern Evangelicals and the Social Order, ix–x, 180–185 . 115 . Carney, Ministers and Masters, 89 . 116 . Junk, “Ladies, Arise!” 117 . Coon, North Carolina Schools, 321–322; Raleigh North Carolina Standard, June 17, 1840, p . 1 .

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compensating for her husband’s inadequate income, she relieved the pressure on Hillsborough’s Presbyterians to raise his salary . Her school provided an education intended to prepare the community’s young women to become wives and mothers who, as Robert Elder has put it, would conform to the ideals of southern womanhood, protect the reputations of their husbands and relatives, and accept responsibility for the spiritual welfare of their families 118. It prepared some of her students for marriage and others to earn their livings by teaching, founding their own schools, or serving as school administrators 119. She purchased supplies from local farmers . She patronized the businesses of craftspeople and shopkeepers, arranged for teachers and students to board with local families, provided employment for day laborers and local music teachers, and purchased, borrowed, or rented slaves from local slave owners . For all these reasons, her entrepreneurial spirit, her business acumen, her demonstration of economic responsibility, and her authority regarding the day-to-day running of the Burwell School posed little or no threat to the gendered sensibilities of the citizens of North Carolina in general and Hillsborough in particular . The result for Anna Burwell was that the respect she earned as a successful businesswoman and educator brought an added dimension to the influence and status generally accorded to the wife of a clergyman .

Dr. Hoffert is Professor of History and Gender Studies, Emerita at Texas A&M University. She has published articles in numerous major journals and is the author of five books on women and gender in the United States, including A History of Gender in America: Essays, Documents, and Articles (2003) and Jane Grey Swisshelm: An Unconventional Life, 1815–1884 (2004). Her most recent book is Alva Vanderbilt Belmont: Unlikely Champion of Women’s Rights (2012). She wishes to thank Brooks Graebner, Kate Engel, Don Mathews, Kate Faherty, Carrie Currie, and researchers at the Burwell School as well as the readers of the North Carolina Historical Review for their research assistance and helpful comments.

118 . Elder, The Sacred Mirror, 90, 92–93 . 119 . Cheryl F . Junk, “ ‘To Become a Power in the Land’: The Burwell School and Women’s Education in Antebellum North Carolina, 1837–1857,” Hillsborough Historical Society Journal 2 (July 1999): 40–44, 47; Dic- tionary of North Carolina Biography, s .v . “Burwell, Robert Armistead .”

VOLUME XCVI • NUMBER 3• JULY 2019 : Philanthropy from 1926 to 1962

Benjamin J. Downs and Chad Seifried

One moment you are deep in the green and the blaze of autumn leaves, and the next the curtain has disappeared, the land falls away and the panorama of long, graceful lines and gently sweeping curves spreads out. The fitting of concrete into the earth has been achieved with no indication of effort or struggle. The picture fits exactly; it was made for its frame and its frame for it.1

n 2011, the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (UNC) athletic department Icompleted a $70 million renovation project on Kenan Memorial Stadium, home of the Tar Heels football team since 1927 . The multiphase renovation included the addition of three thousand new seats, twenty corporate suites, and a second floor to the Kenan Football Center 2. Within the facility, a $7 5. million gift from Aaron’s furniture store founder and UNC alumnus Charles Loudermilk funded construction of the Loudermilk Center for Excellence . The Loudermilk Center surfaced as a 150,000-square-foot facility to host the John W . Pope Student Athlete Academic Support Center, which also emerged following Loudermilk’s previous gift of $3 million . The completion of these various projects increased the capacity of Kenan Memorial Stadium to serve 63,000 spectators, vendors, staff, and nearly 800

1 . Greensboro Daily News, 1927, quoted in “The Kenan Stadium,” Alumni Review16, no . 3 (1927): 80 . 2 . Dan Kane, Anne Blythe, and Ken Tysiac, “Davis, UNC Aimed High, but Scandal Took School Low,” Raleigh News and Observer, October 22, 2011, http://www .newsobserver .com/latest-news/article10349876 . html .

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student-athletes across the school’s twenty-eight sports 3. The athletic and academic development interests of the UNC fan nation of students, faculty, alumni, and industry partners led them to make large philanthropic gifts to build and renovate Kenan Stadium . The scholarly study of such philanthropic gifts to subsidize or fund athletic department activities and construction projects initially emerged during the 1980s and was mainly considered by researchers in the field of sport management 4. For instance, Kenneth Chen and James Zhang found that quality sports facilities are often a key factor in recruiting athletes, generating revenue, and driving general university giving campaigns 5. Other sport scholars studied the motivations of individual donors . As an example, Chanmin Park and his colleagues demonstrate that high-contribution donors were often motivated by philanthropy, the prospects of attaching themselves to the achievements of the team, the publicized display of their commitment to the university and athletics, and the opportunity to receive tangible benefits resulting from their donations .6 Terry Eddy agrees, concluding that the influx in athletic donor capital resulted in athletic departments modernizing their external funding and university athletic foundations to strengthen their business and building activities .7 UNC’s ability to secure the large personal donations of Charles Loudermilk and the John Pope Foundation to improve and enhance Kenan Stadium for fans and student-athletes is consistent with this literature . However, William Rand Kenan Jr ’s. contributions to its initial construction in 1926 and subsequent changes to Kenan Stadium through 1962 are not well documented by historical scholars or those who study philanthropic gifts . The absence of such recognition is surprising because “well intentioned progressives had . . . made [college] sport permanent by creating athletic departments, constructing concrete stadiums, and hiring a corps of professional experts” such as those associated with university fund-raising and sport facility management 8.

3 . “Kenan Memorial Stadium” (posted July 15, 2012), University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Athletics, http://www .goheels .com/ViewArticle .dbml?ATCLID=205498261 . 4 . Ronald Inglehart and Christian Welzel, Modernization, Cultural Change, and Democracy: The Human Develop- ment Sequence (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 2 . 5 . Kenneth K . Chen and James J . Zhang, “Examining Consumer Attributes Associated with Collegiate Ath- letic Facility Naming Rights Sponsorship: Development of a Theoretical Framework,” Sport Management Review 14 (May 2011): 114 . 6 . Chanmin Park, Yong Jae Ko, Hee Youn Kim, Michael Sagas, and Melfy Eddosary . “Donor Motivation in College Sport: Does Contribution Level Matter?” Social Behavior and Personality: An International Journal 44, no . 6 (July 2016): 1016 . 7 . Terry Eddy, “Measuring Effects of Naming-Rights Sponsorships on College Football Fans’ Purchasing Intentions,” Sport Management Review 17, no . 3 (August 2014): 362–363 . 8 . Brian M . Ingrassia, The Rise of the Gridiron University: Higher Education’s Uneasy Alliance with Big-Time Football (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2012), 171 .

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Because of his support for UNC, William Rand Kenan Jr . became a prominent individual donor who invested private funds to construct and renovate Kenan Memorial Stadium from 1926 to 1962 9. Kenan regularly made large philanthropic gifts, motivated in part by personal rivalry, to UNC in an effort to demonstrate his superior commitment to the university . He also secured his personal legacy and that of his family name through the stadium, which UNC used to attract new students, enhance alumni relations, and refute the popular belief that the South was culturally and economically inferior to the North 10. A study on Kenan Stadium is compelling because UNC hoped to capitalize on the increasing popularity of college football in the United States . UNC modeled construction of its modern stadium during the 1920s after elite institutions . The stadium was built during the “era of the planned campus which after the turn of the century was becoming a necessity—institutions of higher learning were becoming too large to be subject to the haphazard accretion of buildings common to the nineteenth-century college layout .”11 This article will demonstrate that the university used football and Kenan Stadium as a social anchor for alumni, supporters, and residents of North Carolina 12. Social anchors have been defined as physical structures that support cultural activities, which create and maintain social identity 13. UNC used the construction of Emerson Field and later Kenan Stadium to unify its stakeholders’ identity and to establish and celebrate a spirit of unity and school pride 14. While Kenan was funding a football facility for UNC, other benefactor namesake facilities at elite institutions were being constructed across the country, for example, Archbold Stadium at Syracuse University (1907); Armstrong Field at Southern Methodist University (1915); Cartier Field at the University of Notre Dame (1897); Ferry Field at the University of Michigan (1906); Gore Athletic Field at Wake Forest

9 . By the 1960s, UNC no longer needed Kenan’s sole patronage to maintain or improve the stadium . In 1952, UNC had created the Office of University Development to manage university-wide fund-raising cam- paigns and the Rams Club to support athletics . 10 . Raymond Schmidt, Shaping College Football: The Transformation of an American Sport, 1919–1930 (Syracuse, N .Y .: Syracuse University Press, 2007), 39–40 . 11 . James Van Trump, “A Heritage of Dreams: Some Aspects of the History of the Architecture and Planning of the University of Pittsburgh, 1787–1969,” Western Pennsylvania Historical Magazine 52, no . 2 (April 1969): 112 . 12 . William M . Foster and Craig G . Hyatt, “Inventing Team Tradition: A Conceptual Model for the Strategic Development of Fan Nations,” European Sport Management Quarterly 8, no . 3 (September 2008): 266, 269 . A “fan nation” is identified as being “comprised mostly of fans who are not [actual] citizens of cities” and who come together through utilizing “an imagined cohesiveness they share” with others through the use of myths, symbols, tangible objects, and rituals . 13 . Chad Seifried and Aaron W . Clopton, “An Alternative View of Public Subsidy and Sport Facilities through Social Anchor Theory,” City, Culture and Society 4, no . 1 (March 2013): 50 . “Social capital was described as the aggregate of the quality relationships and networks of individual members within a commu- nity and showed to be both an individual attribute and a community asset .” Ibid . 14 . Blake Gumprecht, “Stadium Culture: College Athletics and the Making of Place in the American College Town,” Southeastern Geographer 43, no . 1 (May 2003): 28–53 .

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College (now University) (1922); Grant Field at Georgia School of Technology (now Georgia Institute of Technology or Georgia Tech) (1911); Marshall Field at the University of Chicago (1893); McCook Field at the University of Kansas (1892); Palmer Stadium at Princeton University (1914); Percy Field at Cornell University (1899); Rollins Field at the University of Missouri (1889); Ross-Ade Stadium at Purdue University (1924); and Shields-Watkins Field at the University of Tennessee (1921) . Kenan Stadium is unique because it was the first permanent stadium in North Carolina, and because its benefactor was consistently involved in funding the facility for several decades 15. Sport historian Ronald Smith traces the origins of college athletics in America to the elite universities of the Northeast during the mid-1800s 16. Over the course of the next half century, upper-class- and gradually upper-middle-class students increasingly participated in collegiate athletics 17. Student and public demand for college athletics steadily grew, and college prestige became linked to athletic, rather than academic, elitism 18. Brian Ingrassia argues that American university administrators sought to balance the educational focus of universities with the understanding that college football and the revenue it produced was important to university coffers, brand awareness, and producing a positive campus experience 19. Matthew Lindaman discusses how a stadium reflects the “spirt of the university” through “the ever- increasing pageantry and attendance of intervarsity contests, especially football ”. University administrators hoped to use the athletic field to create an on-campus spirit connecting alumni, students, and the local community 20. For instance, in 1922, University of Minnesota president Lotus D . Coffman, commenting on the possibility of a new stadium, suggested, “Let us build now so that future generations of students when they sit in the stadium or in the auditorium may feel something of that spirit which makes Minnesota not merely a great but a true University 21.

15 . “Our History,” UNC Kenan-Flagler Business School, http://www k. enan-flagler unc. edu/about/his. tory . Kenan died on July 28, 1965, at the age of ninety-two . The Kenan family has continued to help fund stadium construction since 1962 and has contributed over $50 million . 16 . Harvard and Yale participated in the first intercollegiate contest, a rowing race, in 1852 . 17 . W . Curtis Miner . “Level Playing Fields: The Democratization of Amateur Sport in Pennsylvania,” (Ph .D . diss ,. University of Pittsburgh, 2006), 216 . By 1900, “less than three percent of Americans of college age attended college or university .” 18 . Ronald A . Smith, Sports and Freedom: The Rise of Big-Time College Athletics (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 214; Allen L . Sack, “The Commercialization and Rationalization of Intercollegiate Football: A Comparative Analysis of the Development of Football at Yale and Harvard in the Latter Nineteenth Century (Ph .D . diss ., Pennsylvania State University, 1974), 1–2 . 19 . Ingrassia, Rise of the Gridiron University, 181–184 . 20 . Matthew Lindaman, “ ‘That Our Youth May Have Strength in Spirit, Mind, and Body’: The Conception and Construction of Illinois Memorial Stadium,” Journal of Illinois History 7, no . 3 (Autumn 2004): 202, 206; Matthew Lindaman, “Up! Up! Stadium Planning and Building a War Memorial,” Minnesota History 62, no . 3 (Fall 2010): 108 . 21 . Minnesota Daily (University of Minnesota student newspaper), October 13, 1922, p . 1

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Following up on this comment, Coffman added:

College spirit and unity are the most priceless qualities in college life . Nowhere do they find expression, and nowhere do they take such deep root as the athletic field . . . . In addition, the university needs the stadium because of its alumni . From the remotest borderland, eastern college alumni set out in the autumn for ‘the game ’. The future of the university will more and more require mobilization of her sons and daughters .22

Before the end of the nineteenth century, more and more universities in the Northeast and Midwest opted to organize their football teams as semi-professional autonomous entities through hiring professional coaches and creating semi- permanent on-campus venues 23. Capable of hosting thousands of spectators who subsequently attracted the media to detail facts of the game and identify who attended the event, college football became an important activity to connect universities annually with their alumni . Further, “the relationship was symbiotic . The more competitive the team, the more alumni support; the more alumni support, the more competitive the team .”24 Eventually, the construction and/or renovation of massive permanent football stadiums on university campuses during the twentieth century emerged as the most tangible evidence of the desire to attract outside revenue, visitors, and alumni 25. Like the hiring of professional coaches, the proliferation of permanent football stadiums on college campuses as a social anchor for these groups began in America’s academically and financially elite northeastern institutions with the opening of Harvard Stadium in 1903 26. Shortly thereafter, other elite northeastern universities constructed their own permanent football stadiums, for example, Yale University in 1914; Princeton University in 1914; and Cornell University in 1915 . Many schools in the Midwest and West built facilities in the 1920s, modeled after these northeastern institutions and on a scale and complexity not previously seen, such as the University of Wisconsin (1917); Ohio State University (1922); University of Illinois (1923); University of Nebraska (1923); Michigan State University (1923); University of Minnesota (1924); Purdue University (1924); University of Indiana (1925); University of Washington (1920); Stanford University (1921); and the University of California (Berkeley) (1923) .

22 . Minnesota Daily, October 30, 1922, p . 1 . 23 . John Craig, “Football on the Pacific Slope,” in The Lost Century of American Football: Reports from the Birth of a Game, ed . Greg Gubi (North Charleston, S C. :. BookSurge Publishing, 2011), 496–504; Greg Gubi, “Introduction,” in The Lost Century of American Football, xxi–xxiv; Smith, Sports and Freedom, 82–98 . College football could be used to recruit students, reconnect with alumni, and generate revenue for the school . 24 . Miner, “Level Playing Fields,” 216 . 25 . Ingrassia, Rise of the Gridiron University, 9 . 26 . Ronald A . Smith, “Far More than Commercialism: Stadium Building from Harvard’s Innovations to Stanford’s ‘Dirt Bowl,’ ” International Journal of the History of Sport 25, no . 11 (August 2008): 1453–1474 .

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Advancements in the use of reinforced steel and concrete enabled facilities to be constructed larger than ever and almost anywhere 27. Improved technology also allowed architects to design college football facilities that provided new amenities (restrooms and refreshment stands, for example), maximized the number of quality seats, and improved crowd ingress and egress for both live and remote spectators, who listened to games on the radio . College football historian Raymond Schmidt argues, “Architecturally, the stadia that would rise on many of the nation’s campuses reflected a transition in design concepts that was taking place in general construction business . . . . [M]any architects were moving to a modern style of geometrically severe and utilitarian design concepts that seemed appropriate for commercialized culture of the 1920s .”28 Historian John Watterson further concludes that such modernizing of stadiums created a “subspecies of architecture and was a sign that big-time football had drowned out all hopes for modest athletics programs” because they “delayed the plans for building academic structures such as libraries and classroom buildings ”. 29 Nationally, advancing technology and the public’s growing demand to attend college games permanently anchored many university campuses to college football . Before the end of the 1920s, athletics annually generated about $50 million for institutions of higher education .30 Businessmen from a university’s local community were attracted to stadium building campaigns because of the gate success . Their philanthropy was usually handled through university memorial campaigns developed by alumni associations 31. For example, Charles G . Ireys, president of the General Alumni Association at the University of Minnesota, stated, “Many other large universities have corporations . . . bent on helping the institution by gifts during their lifetime or bequests after death .”32 Chamber of Commerce members who had attended their local university viewed stadium philanthropy as an opportune business venture because “postwar advances in modern advertising and public relations” could link the fans and their burgeoning school spirit to local businesses 33. Still, “behind the marketing effort lay a genuine

27 . Ingrassia, Rise of the Gridiron University, 139–144; Chad Seifried and Donna Pastore, “Analyzing the First Permanent Professional Baseball and Football Structures in the United States: How Expansion and Renova- tion Changed Them into Jewel Boxes,” Sport History Review 40, no . 2 (2009): 170 . 28 . Schmidt, Shaping College Football, 42 . 29 . John Sayle Watterson, College Football: History, Spectacle, Controversy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), 156; Ernest Quantrell to Amos Alonzo Stagg, December 5, 1922, Amos Alonzo Stagg Papers, Box 24, Folder 5, Football General 1921–1925, Special Collections Research Center, University of Chicago Library . Ernest Quantrell, a University of Chicago trustee, suggested that stadiums were “becoming just as much a requisite of up-to-date university equipment as a gymnasium or physics laboratory .” 30 . Schmidt, Shaping College Football, 6 . 31 . Michele Fagan, “ ‘Give ’Till it Hurts’: Financing Memorial Stadium,” Nebraska History 79, no . 4 (Winter 1998): 179; Lindaman, “That Our Youth May Have Strength,” 211 . 32 . Lindaman, “Up! Up! Stadium Planning and Building a War Memorial,” 110 . 33 . Fagan, “Give ’Till it Hurts,” 185 .

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desire to contribute to the health of students” and help fund the university .34 Matthew Lindaman argues that the football stadium became the center for physical education programs and the fitness plant for the United States’ growing interest in preparing for war . Harvard had a $15 million endowment, and at the University of Michigan, 36 percent of campus buildings were constructed from alumni gifts provided to those institutions by 1921 . Athletics played an important part in facilitating and maintaining relationships with high-contributing alumni and friends .35 Southern collegiate football and its supporting facilities lagged in quality behind the play and venues supported by their northeastern, midwestern, and western counterparts 36. They were perceived as inferior, which contributed to a general lack of regional pride in the late nineteenth century . The South, already undermined by its defeat in the American Civil War and its lack of industrialization, was further denigrated by northern progressives for its de jure segregationist policies 37. The conflict between the Union and the former Confederacy did not cease with Robert E . Lee’s capitulation at Appomattox nor with the end of Reconstruction more than a decade later . Although slavery had ended, the divergent lifestyles in the North and the South that existed prior to the Civil War remained in the early twentieth century . Northerners frequently criticized the South and the southern lifestyle, despite a general sense of national unity and harmony leading up to and during the First World War . Northern periodicals of the 1920s suggested the South was uneducated and agrarian . Moreover, images of chain gangs, lynching, and sharecroppers were used to illustrate that the South had not demonstrably changed since the Civil War . The college football field offered southerners an opportunity to challenge stereotypical views by demonstrating their modernity and masculinity 38. During the first quarter of the twentieth century, college football, like many other facets of southern life, was still viewed as inferior compared to the northern game . In the South, contests against northern and midwestern opponents were often viewed as exhibition contests to demonstrate their superiority 39. Yet, like their peers in other regions, universities across the South began hiring experienced football coaches from prominent northern universities to create winning programs and to

34 . Lindaman, “That Our Youth May Have Strength,” 202 . 35 . Lindaman, “Up! Up! Stadium Planning and Building a War Memorial,” 108, 110 . 36 . Ingrassia, Rise of the Gridiron University, 149 . After 1919, “universities in the West and Midwest, which prospered due to the influx of wartime federal dollars, led the stadium building frenzy .” Ibid . 37 . Andrew Doyle, “ ‘Causes Won, Not Lost’: College Football and the Modernization of the American South,” International Journal of the History of Sport 11, no . 2 (1994): 231–237; Wes Borucki, “ ‘You’re Dixie’s Football Pride’: American College Football and the Resurgence of Southern Identity,” Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power 10, no . 4 (2003): 482–485 . 38 . Doyle, “Causes Won, Not Lost,” 237 . 39 . Doyle, “Causes Won, Not Lost,” 238; Lovick Pierce Miles, “Football in the South,” Outing: An Illustrated Monthly Magazine of Sport, Travel, and Recreation 25, no . 12 (December 1894): 57–58 .

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capitalize on the region’s growing interest in college football 40. The perception of a weakened southern identity was reversed somewhat with the Georgia School of Technology and University of Alabama football teams’ rise to national prominence by the early 1920s .41 Delight in southern football became synonymous with southern pride . Southern politicians and academic administrators used college football as a means of challenging the dominant northern and national perceptions of the South as backward and impotent .42 College football and the facilities constructed during the 1920s played a key role in modernizing the southern economy and became a source of pride for southerners .43 Civic leaders could connect memories of a strong, antebellum southern past with the economic realities of competing with the industrialized North and Midwest 44. Football thus served as a way to measure success and progress, not only in on-field competition, but in all aspects of life . Following the lead of their northern and midwestern peers, southern schools developed sophisticated alumni fund-raising programs to construct state-of-the-art stadiums .45 The decision of university and civic leaders to construct permanent stadiums indicates that they recognized the mass- market appeal of the stadium as “the most visible icon [i .e ., anchor] of civic progress even at the apogee of the machine age .”46



UNC students began playing Harvard–style football, known regionally as “shin breaker,” on a field in 1883 that supported “imaginary sidelines” for interclass contests pitting teams of seniors and freshman against juniors and sophomores . Interest in football at UNC grew rapidly, so that by 1886, University Magazine described the activity as the most popular winter sport on campus . On October 18, 1888, the UNC sophomore football team lost the first intercollegiate football game in North Carolina against an all-class Wake Forest team at the North Carolina State Fair Grounds . The relative success of the UNC-Wake Forest game sparked increased public interest

40 . Wes Borucki, “Dixie’s Football Pride,” 479–480 . John Heisman and Wallace Wade, the head coaches of Georgia Tech and Alabama, were educated at Brown University . 41 . Richard Stone, “The Graham Plan of 1935: An Aborted Crusade to De-emphasize College Athletics,” North Carolina Historical Review 64, no . 3 (July 1987): 274 . Georgia Tech head coaches John Heisman and William Alexander produced a record of 163–46–14 from 1904 through 1928 and a 1929 Rose Bowl victory . Various coaches at the University of Alabama, featuring Wallace Wade, produced a record of 150–53–16 during this time span and a win and tie during the 1926 and 1927 Rose Bowls . 42 . Doyle, “Causes Won, Not Lost,” 240–247 . 43 . Doyle, “Causes Won, Not Lost,” 236 . 44 . Doyle, “Causes Won, Not Lost,” 243–245 . 45 . Ingrassia, Rise of the Gridiron University, 143–144, 152–156 . 46 . Doyle, “Causes Won, Not Lost,” 244 .

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in a potential Thanksgiving contest between UNC and Trinity College (now Duke University) 47. In the weeks prior to the first Trinity game, UNC students formed the University Football Association (UFA), an eighty-nine-member organization from which the best players were chosen to represent UNC . In addition to clearly defining roles for students interested in football, the UFA demonstrated its desire to advance early college football at UNC by agreeing to play Trinity under the standardized football rules of the Inter-Collegiate Association . Both teams charged admission to the game to pay for their uniforms, and the rules were provided to spectators through the Raleigh News and Observer . Between five hundred and six hundred fans witnessed Trinity defeat UNC 16–0 48. Following the UNC-Trinity contest, the schools, along with Wake Forest, further improved the sport by forming the North Carolina Inter-Collegiate Foot- Ball Association (NCIFA) on November 29, 1888 . The association formalized the rules of college football in the state and regulated the terms of player eligibility and financial assistance 49. To prepare for the 1889 season, UNC paid Princeton tackle Hector Cowen to teach its football players the northern version of the game . Under Cowen’s tutelage, UNC adopted the Princeton V-formation and subsequently beat Wake Forest in the first game of the 1889 season, 33–0 50. However, the NCIFA proved to be short-lived . Opposition to college football grew on each campus for several reasons . Some administrators and faculty questioned whether football players valued competition more than education, if the violence of the game threatened the safety of competing students, and whether the encroachment of professional coaches and student-athletes threatened the amateur foundation of the sport 51. Ultimately, UNC disbanded the program for 1890 . However, a formal petition organized by students George Graham, Samuel Blount, and Alex Stronach convinced a UNC faculty committee, led by professors Francis P . Venable, Eben Alexander, and Horace Williams, to reinstate the sport after a one-year hiatus . By the middle of the decade, UNC became the unrivaled face of football in North Carolina .52

47 . Jim L . Sumner, “The North Carolina Inter-Collegiate Foot-Ball Association: The Beginnings of College Football in North Carolina,” North Carolina Historical Review 65, no . 3 (July 1988): 263–264 . Harvard–style football further evolved in the 1880s to include standard downs and distance, as well as rewarding the scor- ing of touchdowns over kicking . See also Ken Rappoport, : North Carolina Football (Huntsville, Ala :. Strode Publishers, 1976), 95 . 48 . Sumner, “North Carolina Inter-Collegiate Foot-Ball Association,” 266–268; Rappoport, Tar Heel, 92 . Tickets cost 25 cents for men and 15 cents for women . 49 . Sumner, “North Carolina Inter-Collegiate Foot-Ball Association,” 286; Gubi, The Lost Century of American Football, 477 . The NCIFA was a student-led organization with representative leadership elected from each member university . 50 . Miles, “Football in the South,” 58 . 51 . Smith, Sports and Freedom, 166–167 . 52 . Sumner, “North Carolina Inter-Collegiate Foot-Ball Association,” 277–283 .

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New home fields were built in 1900 and 1907 to provide grandstand seating for 150 people, but the size, poor field condition, lack of amenities, and poor access to Chapel Hill often prompted UNC to play games elsewhere . For example, the school played six of their eight games on the road in 1900 . UNC, which had become known as the “Tired Heels” or “Well-Worn Heels,” chose to play for larger gate receipts available in bigger cities through the early part of the twentieth century 53. In 1911, UNC joined Georgetown University, Johns Hopkins University, North Carolina College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts (now North Carolina State University), Richmond College (now University of Richmond), Virginia Agricultural and Mechanical College and Polytechnic Institute (now Virginia Tech), University of Virginia, and Washington and Lee University as a charter member of the South Atlantic Intercollegiate Athletic Association (SAIAA) to help find opponents who might play them in Chapel Hill 54. However, because UNC lacked a substantial or suitable home venue, the team was compelled to play its games on the road . An article in the Alumni Review criticized UNC in 1913 because “Carolina men barely have an opportunity to know Carolina elevens and . . . they fail to develop the maximum college spirit ”. The author added, “More games should be played in the presence of the entire student body” and argued that the university should schedule a game to support University Day, an annual event held during the month of October, in which alumni and guests visited with current students, faculty, and staff to celebrate the birth of the university .55 By 1914, modern roads gave interested fans easier access to the campus, thus increasing the popularity of University Day, UNC football, and the idea of constructing a new football field 56. UNC connected its plans to create a larger “University Day” with alumni interest in the football games against the University of Virginia . The rivalry game with Virginia is particularly notable because it fell on the most popular college football weekend of the year—Thanksgiving—and because those games were typically played in Richmond . A new facility would secure games for Chapel Hill and thus redirect alumni and their money back to campus using the new road system . With the support of then university president Edward Kidder Graham, who desired to secure a modern stadium so the university could host large-scale games, UNC began constructing Emerson Field in 1916 . Emerson Field resulted from a

53 . Rappoport, Tar Heel, 107 . Road stops in 1900 included Nashville, Knoxville, Atlanta, Raleigh, Norfolk, and Washington, D .C . 54 . “South Atlantic Colleges to Organize,” Daily Tar Heel (UNC student newspaper), February 20, 1912, p . 1 . 55 . “More Games at Home,” Alumni Review 2, no . 3 (1913): 51; “University Day,” Alumni Review 2, no . 2 (1913): 28 . 56 . Smith Barrier, On Carolina’s Gridiron, 1888–1936: A History of Football at the University of North Carolina (Durham, N .C .: Seeman Printery, 1937) .

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$25,000 gift provided by Chapel Hill native and 1879 UNC alumnus Isaac Emerson, who wanted to see UNC athletic teams play on the finest field in the South 57. With well-sodded turf and natural hedged fencing, the multipurpose Emerson Field hosted football, baseball, and track, and featured reinforced concrete grandstands that provided seating for 2,700 to 3,000 spectators and a student body that grew from 512 in 1900 to 1,000 by 1916 58. Spacing between the field and hedges used as fencing accommodated additional standing-room-only spectators and adequately separated the competition space from both seated and standing spectators . UNC promoted the grandstands as almost identical to those at Johns Hopkins’s Homewood Field . However, UNC publicized Emerson Field to alumni and the public as an improvement because of the soundproof locker rooms, additional athletic training facilities, and available space to accommodate automobiles 59. The dances, plays, and reunions associated with University Day at this time were enhanced through football . 60 The General Alumni Association prepared the itinerary of the first University Day events tied to football and even marketed the slogan “On to Chapel Hill” in 1916 to encourage alumni to return for the Virginia game . The Alumni Review noted, “For the alumni it will mean the turning of their faces home, many of whom have made the pilgrimage frequently to Richmond, but far too seldom to their Alma Mater ”. 61 Confidence was high in the University Day-football merger . For example, the Yackety Yack yearbook editors heralded the success of similar homecoming activities elsewhere throughout the country and suggested, “With the completion of the new Emerson Athletic Field and stadium, many athletic contests of a high order will now be staged here . The big Thanksgiving game with Virginia comes to Chapel Hill this fall; and what better incentive for the inauguration of a homecoming could be found?”62 The Alumni Review concluded, “other institutions throughout the country have found such an occasion most instrumental in bringing hosts of alumni back to the campus, and thereby keeping them in closer touch with it; and there is every reason to believe that it would be worthwhile for Carolina . The experiment on University Day demonstrated that beyond question .”63

57 . “The Emerson Stadium,” Alumni Review 2, no . 8 (1914): 180; Lee Pace, Football in a Forest: The Life and Times of Kenan Memorial Stadium (Chapel Hill, N .C .: Pace Enterprises, 2016), 52–53 . Emerson was the inven- tor of Bromo-Seltzer, an antacid pain reliever for heartburn and stomach indigestion . 58 . “The Year in Perspective,” 1916 Yackety Yack (UNC yearbook), 20 . 59 . “Emerson Gives Athletic Field to University of North Carolina,” Charlotte Daily Observer, September 5, 1915, 12 . 60 . “A Carolina Homecoming,” 1917 Yackety Yack, 228, 230 . 61 . “What This Means,” Alumni Review 5, no . 3 (1916): 62 . 62 . “A History of Celebrating Carolina,” UNC General Alumni Association, https://alumni unc. edu/. things-to-do/events-activities/homecoming/homecoming-history . 63 . “What about a Home-Coming Day?” Alumni Review 11, no . 2 (1922): 39 .

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With the support of president Edward Kidder Graham, UNC began construction of Emerson Field in 1916 . Photo- gaph courtesy of the North Carolina Collection, Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill .

Emerson Field was not perfect . For example, one corner of the field lay approximately two feet below the rest of the field, and much of the facility lacked protective fencing, which enticed nonpaying spectators to overflow the facility . By 1921, Emerson Field was deemed “entirely incapable of meeting the demands of the sports-loving public ”. The Alumni Review argued, “the number of spectators at the football games exhausted the capacity of all wooden stands of the field and thereafter thousands of prospective spectators had to be turned away .”64 The 1925 season finale against Virginia serves as one example . That game drew an estimated 16,000 fans to the 3,000–seat facility, which did not support any restrooms or refreshment stands for the public . Rather than continuing to turn away fans or allow them to watch for free, UNC decided to build a larger stadium that could capture consumer interests, address the growth of the university, and improve regional prestige 65. Following the 1925 football season, UNC’s Committee on the University Stadium convened and outlined plans to construct a new, ideal, and permanent

64 . “Baseball Team’s Clean Sweep Highlights Spring Season,” Alumni Review 51, no . 7 (1964): 133 . 65 . “Committee on the New Stadium 1926–1927” (hereinafter “Committee on the New Stadium”), in Kenan Stadium: Planning and Construction, 1926–1927, Box 3, Department of Athletics of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Records (hereinafter UNC Department of Athletics Records) #40093, University Archives, Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill .

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stadium on the Chapel Hill campus to mimic those emerging at other schools . The committee believed UNC needed to build a new stadium for two reasons . First, interest in UNC football had outgrown Emerson Field . Second, given the custom at that time of splitting gate receipts equally with visiting opponents as a contractual guarantee, the construction of a larger facility would not only generate more revenue for UNC, but it would also provide financial incentives for elite football-playing opponents to schedule games in Chapel Hill . Supporters of a new stadium believed the attraction of these programs would also elevate UNC’s football program and the university’s prestige, compared to other academically and economically elite southern schools, such as Vanderbilt University, Georgia School of Technology, and Tulane University, which constructed their own large permanent stadiums .66 For these reasons, and because UNC anticipated an enrollment of 2,500 or more by 1930, the committee recommended the university begin planning a 33,500– seat reinforced steel and concrete facility that would potentially allow expansion to 53,500 seats . Next, the committee determined that $500,000 was necessary for the stadium and that various ticket packages should be created to entice multiple types of donors who could help UNC reach its fund-raising goals .67 The committee’s proposal to finance the new football stadium with multiple donor packages is not unprecedented . Roughly a decade earlier, Yale University raised $300,000 to finance the 64,025–seat Yale Bowl by selling $100 ticket licenses . Other schools followed this example shortly thereafter, so that the “dangling of choice tickets before donors” became common during the 1920s .68 Brian Ingrassia notes that the successful recruitment of pledges at schools became a point of “institutional pride” to help measure themselves against others 69. At UNC, the financing for the proposed university stadium included multiple contribution levels . For UNC football supporters wishing to purchase tickets to football games, two “Founders” levels were suggested . The highest level required a donation of $200 in order to secure a ten-year ticket guarantee of seats located between the forty- and fifty-yard lines . In the category below that, a donation of $150 would secure a ten-year ticket guarantee for a seat located between the thirty- and forty-yard lines .70 Alternatively, supporters could be designated as “Founders” if they

66 . “Committee on the New Stadium”; Durham County Alumni Association to Foy Roberson, June 4, 1926, in Kenan Stadium: Preliminary Committee Meeting, 1926, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records . UNC sought out home games against Harvard and Yale . They played those two schools on the road, produc- ing a 0–9 record . 67 . “Committee on the New Stadium ”. 68 . Ingrassia, Rise of the Gridiron University, 143–144, 159 . 69 . Ingrassia, Rise of the Gridiron University, 162 . 70 . Both “Founder” levels proposed 1,400 seats, which, if sold, would generate $280,000 and $210,000 toward the construction costs respectively . See also “Southern Beauty,” Alumni Review 91, no . 5 (2002): 37 .

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donated at least $5,000 to the project . Donations between $1,000 and $5,000 would be classified as “Donors,” and donations ranging between $150 and $1,000 would be designated as “Subscribers .” Those who donated more than $20,000 would have a section of the stadium named in their honor 71. The economic conditions of early-twentieth-century North Carolina meant that UNC and other institutions of higher education depended upon philanthropy . In the first quarter of the century, the cotton textile industry drove the North Carolina economy after entrepreneurial industrialists began migrating south from New England to capitalize on the pro-business environment of the state . More specifically, an abundance of cheap labor and limited competition allowed industrialists to offer low wages to a largely nonunionized and nonindustrial population in a state where labor laws did not protect women and children . The onset of World War I coupled with a drop in the price of cotton further swelled the workforce and decreased wages, making the textile industry more attractive to industrialists 72. The expansion of the textile industry developed the upper middle classes in North Carolina, including a professional (medical, dental, and legal) class and service industry dependent on mill workers . Despite the appearance of an educated upper middle class, the North Carolina working class struggled to subsist on the exploitative wages that allowed the textile industry to thrive . The typical 1920s North Carolina textile worker survived on a low-protein, corn-based diet, lived in inadequate housing, and was poorly clothed and largely uneducated . The low wages and standard of living experienced by the expanding workforce fueled conflict between labor and management over wages, working conditions, and child exploitation .73 Child labor laws codified in the 1920s and a depressed agricultural industry resulted in large numbers of children with little supervision . The solution involved expanding public education in the state . Prior to the 1920s, North Carolina public education existed primarily to enable the white male voting population to pass voter literacy tests . As a result, instituting statewide education programming proved difficult . In North Carolina, individual counties, not the state, determined education policy and appropriated funds to schools . This structure limited state interference in the lives of the people by delegating public spending decisions to local governments, rather than to state governments . Small tax revenues collected also meant that money for institutions of higher education was kept to a minimum . This limited state

71 . “Proposed University Stadium,” in Kenan Stadium: Planning and Construction, 1926–1927, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records . The minimum donation the university would accept toward the project was $1 . 72 . Phillip J . Wood, Southern Capitalism: The Political Economy of North Carolina, 1880–1980 (Durham, N C. :. Duke University Press, 1986), 59–70 . 73 . Wood, Southern Capitalism, 81–86 .

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subsidization of public education likely prompted the Committee on the University Stadium to develop a personal donor funding plan for the new stadium .74 By 1926, only $27,926 had been raised by a group of forty interested alumni 75. To improve donation coffers, the committee showed a copy of the financial plan for the stadium to William Rand Kenan Jr ,. who graduated from UNC in 1894 with a bachelor of science degree in math, chemistry, and physics 76. Kenan came from a Wilmington, North Carolina, family with historic and business ties to UNC . In 1872, Kenan’s maternal uncles William and Robert Hargrave sold $10,000 worth of land and buildings around the university village as plans unfolded to reopen UNC, which had closed in 1871 .77 Throughout the 1870s and 1880s, the family also fought against the founding of a state agricultural and mechanical college (North Carolina College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts) because its establishment threatened prospective UNC enrollments and thus, the boardinghouses owned by the family in Chapel Hill . The Hargrave money buoyed the Kenan family as William Rand Kenan Sr . built his railroad merchant company with the help of his brother, state attorney general Thomas Kenan . Through merchant trading and real estate acquisitions, the family’s wealth expanded in the 1880s, which allowed them to associate with the likes of wealthy railroad and industrial magnates Pem Jones, Henry Walters, and Henry Flagler, who would eventually marry William Rand Kenan Jr .’s sister Mary Lily 78. While Kenan was a student at UNC, he played on multiple athletic teams and displayed a keen business sense and a scientific mind, making him an attractive candidate to recruit .79 Kenan both managed and pitched for the UNC baseball team and played on the 1893 football team, the first southern college football team to play a northern opponent .80 As part of his baseball managing duties, Kenan became instrumental in securing fencing that prevented nonpaying customers from watching games . Academically, Kenan and classmate John Motley Morehead III assisted Dr . Francis P . Venable in his discovery of the process of converting calcium carbide to acetylene 81. After graduation, Kenan worked for the Union Carbide Company as a manager-scientist who was responsible for building many carbide and acetylene

74 . Wood, Southern Capitalism, 122–125; “The Kenan Stadium,” Alumni Review 15, no . 3 (1926): 95 . 75 . Barrier, On Carolina’s Gridiron, 1 . 76 . Pace, Football in a Forest, 54–55 . 77 . William and Robert Hargrave were the brothers of William’s mother, Mary Hargrave Kenan . Walter E . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks: A Biography of William Rand Kenan Jr. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), 25 . 78 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 25–43 . 79 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 57–59 . 80 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 307 . UNC lost to Lehigh 34–0 in New York City . 81 . “About,” Kenan Center, http://kenancenter .org/about/ . Dripping water over calcium carbide produces the flammable acetylene gas . This light source, rather than candlelight, was popular in slate, copper, and tin mines, as this process typically did not expose other volatile and flammable gases during mining .

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plants in the United States, Germany, and Australia . At the same time, he became increasingly involved with the business affairs of his new brother-in-law and Standard Oil founding partner Henry Flagler, who was also well known for his real estate development on the east coast of Florida . In 1899, Flagler hired Kenan to help expand the Florida East Coast Railroad, construct a chain of hotels, and build a new generator for the Flagler-owned Miami Power and Water Company (now Florida Power and Light) . With Flagler’s death in 1913 and the death of Kenan’s sister Mary Lily in 1917, Kenan inherited much of Flagler’s fortune, which included the presidency of Florida East Coast Railroad, Florida East Coast Hotel Company, Florida East Coast Car Ferry Company, Model Land Company, Miami Power and Water Company, West Palm Beach Water Company, and P . & O . Steamship Company .82 Mary Lily bequeathed 40,250 shares of Standard Oil stock, worth approximately $50 million to $60 million to Kenan and his two sisters, Jessie Kenan Wise and Sarah Graham . Mary Lily also provided a gift of $75,000 to UNC in the memory of her parents and uncles to pay professor salaries, which helped transform UNC into a research university 83. Kenan was buoyed by the tourism surge in Florida before and after World War I, and he clearly had amassed the financial resources to physically and permanently change UNC . Yet he did not contribute toward university building projects until a few emerging events converged . First, Kenan’s other sisters had already given significantly to the university by 1922, and his previous gifts “paled in comparison ”. 84 Second, many of the university stadiums that surfaced across the country were constructed as memorials to World War I veterans, not only to recognize the fallen but also to serve as a unifying symbol of an institution’s effort to connect and recognize prominent alumni .85 Kenan, looking to create “some form of memorial to his father and mother” to catch up to sisters Mary Lily, Jessie, and Sarah, carefully considered the committee’s suggestion that he build the stadium as a memorial . Third, the committee admired other elite northern, midwestern, and southern universities that had already built their own new memorial stadiums through alumni donations . Like other universities, UNC used the concept of a memorial stadium to enlist the help of alumni interested in civic engagement . Finally, Kenan supported the new football stadium because of a burgeoning rivalry with his friend and colleague John Motley Morehead III, the committee member responsible for securing donations to the

82 . “William R . Kenan Gives Stadium to University” Alumni Review 15, no . 3 (1926): 81 . 83 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 176, 194; “The Kenan Stadium,” Alumni Review 15, No . 3 (1926): 95 . According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics’ cost inflation calculator, Mary Lily’s gifts were worth the equiva- lent of approximately $1 billion in 2017 . 84 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 192–193 . 85 . Schmidt, Shaping College Football, 40; Lindaman, “Up! Up! Stadium Planning and Building a War Memorial,” 108 .

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Photograph of William Rand Kenan Jr . from the North Carolina Collection .

facility . Kenan knew the venue would attract attention because of his family name and because it was the first of its kind in the state 86. The committee considered two different Greek-style designs from Atwood and Nash Architects, an architecture and engineering firm located in Durham, North Carolina, and Chapel Hill . The first design satisfied the committee’s desire for an expandable 33,500–seat horseshoe-style stadium with an estimated cost of $515,312 . 87 The second called for 24,000 seats at an estimated cost of $355,571 82. 88. Kenan’s willingness to fund the entirety of the second project emerged from the reduced cost and the respect it showed for the natural forest setting . Regarding the location, the building committee of the UNC Board of Trustees chose a natural ravine in the forest just south of campus boundaries because it allowed for a potential expansion . Using his business acumen, Kenan also advocated for the 24,000–seat model because

86 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 203, 221; “Southern Beauty,” 37 . 87 . “Carolina Stadium: 33,500 Capacity,” in Kenan Stadium: Planning and Construction, 1926–1927, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records . 88 . “Carolina Stadium: 24,000 Capacity,” in Kenan Stadium: Planning and Construction, 1926–1927, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records .

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it allowed UNC to maximize seats and ticket prices along sidelines, rather than the less desirable end zone seating offered by the first design .89 T . C . Thompson and Brothers Construction Company from Charlotte, North Carolina, won the contract to erect the facility, while Nello Teer of Durham was responsible for clearing the wooded banks within the natural amphitheater known as the Meeting of the Waters . In order to incorporate the stadium into the natural landscape of the campus, the creek flowing through the Meeting of the Waters was rerouted into a concrete drainage ditch built under the stadium . In April 1927, the Chapel Hill Weekly illustrated the school’s control over nature by reporting that the “dynamiting goes on, day after day, on the site of the Kenan Stadium” and suggesting the “noise of the heavy blasting resounds through the village and . . . doors rattle from the shock .”90 T . C . Thompson and Brothers erected the Douglas fir grandstands from two hollowed out hills, which resulted in an east to west orientation . Botany professor Dr . William C . Coker designed the landscaping, which involved imbedding hedges near the two main entrances and planting dogwood, wild plum, and cedar trees around the seating areas . The construction incorporated a separate on-field entrance for the players, twelve sections for fan seating, and a gate that provided rapid egress after games . Kenan allocated an additional $24,000 for the construction of permanent public restroom facilities behind each grandstand, which were supplemented by temporary refreshment stands on game days .91 A guest box and press box with radio broadcasting capability were erected on top of each respective grandstand for remote spectators of the UNC fan nation 92. The stadium planning committee and Kenan believed that having an adequate press box was important because “the media played a large part in the development of sport’s growing popularity .”93 Kenan designed and approved the bronze tablets honoring his parents, William Rand Kenan Sr . and Mary Hargrave Kenan, and placed them on limestone pedestals next to each main entrance 94. Kenan also provided additional funding for constructing the stadium’s $28,000 two-story brick and stucco field house and

89 . Charles T . Woollen to William Rand Kenan Jr ,. January 11, 1927, in Kenan Stadium: Planning and Construction, 1926–1927, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records; Martha B . Caldwell, s v. . “Nash, Arthur C . (1871–1969),” North Carolina Architects and Builders: A Biographical Dictionary, http://ncarchitects . lib .ncsu .edu/people/P000500 . Similar to the University of Illinois, the seats were placed primarily along the sidelines, rather than the end zones . “The Kenan Stadium,” 95 . The committee suggested 55,000 seats was possible in the location . 90 . Pace, Football in a Forest, 87 . 91 . “Atwood and Nash Architecture Firm Statement Regarding Estimate of Cost of Proposed Stadium of the University of North Carolina,” in Kenan Stadium: Planning and Construction, 1926–1927, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records . 92 . “Mason Cityan Helps Here,” Mason City Globe-Gazette, December 7, 1927, p . 22 93 . Seifried and Pastore, “Analyzing the First Permanent Professional Baseball and Football Structures,” 187 . 94 . Atwood and Nash Architecture Firm to William Rand Kenan Jr ., May 31, 1927, in Kenan Stadium: Plan-

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Photograph of Kenan Stadium construction, ca . 1925–1929, from the North Carolina Collection . locker rooms outside of the east end of the stadium . Kenan argued that the new building “not only provides excellent quarters for the teams, but makes it possible for us to extend hospitality to visiting teams in a way that we have not been able to do in the past .”95 Kenan spent nearly $330,000 funding his memorial stadium .96 On October 1, 1927, Kenan inspected the stadium and congratulated those involved in its construction . He declared that the university had received a great gift and that he viewed the stadium as an “opportunity to express in a permanent beautiful form his love for his parents and his loyalty to Carolina .”97 The completed facility opened on November 12, 1927, for UNC’s win over Davidson College . Two weeks later, WPTF of Raleigh broadcast UNC’s Thanksgiving Day upset victory over Virginia, the first live radio broadcast of a sporting event in the state .98

ning and Construction, 1926–1927, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records; “Gift of $275,000 Made to Stadium by William R . Kenan,” Daily Tar Heel, November 16, 1926, p . 1 . 95 . Secretary of the University Athletic Council to William Rand Kenan Jr ,. October 8, 1927, in Kenan Sta- dium: Planning and Construction, 1926–1927, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records . 96 . William Rand Kenan Jr . to Charles T . Woollen, January 30, 1928, in Kenan Stadium: Planning and Construction, 1926–1927, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records . 97 . Barrier, On Carolina’s Gridiron, 1 . 98 . David E . Brown, “Twas a True Thanksgiving Day Indeed,” Alumni Review 16, no . 3 (1927): 78 .

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Photograph of the Kenan Stadium field house from the North Carolina Collection . The field house was razed in 2010 for additional seating and other renovations .

The Alumni Review and local newspapers applauded Kenan’s personal investment and suggested the facility not only met important recreational needs but also provided other instructional opportunities . The stadium could be used for physical education and drama classes and for nonacademic basics such as an anchor for reunions and community activities . UNC could “now meet its neighbor institutions on equal terms ”. 99 Kenan also believed the stadium would “have a direct influence on the construction of other stadiums throughout the South ”. 100 In November 1927, the Greensboro Daily News concurred: “There seems to be little doubt now that the tremendous interest in intercollegiate athletics will continue and that this stadium is a forerunner of others in North Carolina and the neighboring states ”. These projections were confirmed in Charles Woollen’s July 1928 letter to Kenan . The stadium, he wrote, attracted visitors “almost daily” and garnered “inquiries concerning it . . . from many sections of the country ”. For instance, both the University of Georgia and the University of Alabama contracted Atwood and Nash to design their stadiums, both completed in 1929 101.

99 . “The Kenan Stadium,” 95; Brown, “Twas a True Thanksgiving Day Indeed,” 78 . 100 . William Rand Kenan Jr . to Charles T . Woollen, July 11, 1928, in Kenan Stadium: Planning and Con- struction, 1926–1927, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records . 101 . Charles T . Woollen to William Rand Kenan Jr ,. July 11, 1928, in Kenan Stadium: Planning and Con- struction, 1926–1927, Box 3, UNC Department of Athletics Records . Kenan had learned that Virginia

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John Motley Morehead III (right) with Rufus Lenoir Patterson II . Photograph from the North Carolina Collection .

Four years after the official dedication of Kenan Stadium and prior to the UNC–Virginia Thanksgiving game, UNC dedicated another campus memorial, the 172-foot high Morehead-Patterson Bell Tower . Funded in part by John Motley Morehead III, the bell tower rose above Kenan Stadium . This is notable because unlike Kenan, who inherited most of his wealth, Morehead built his fortune through savvy investing and industrial patents . Although he and Kenan were friends from their time at UNC through the dedication of Kenan Stadium, the new $100,000

wanted to build a new stadium . If UNC had attracted twenty-eight thousand for the 1927 Virginia game, he told Woollen, perhaps the next goal should be to expand the stadium’s capacity . The 1928 home schedule was Wake Forest, Virginia Tech, Georgia Tech, South Carolina, and Duke .

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memorial Bell Tower established Morehead as Kenan’s personal rival 102. Kenan was frustrated over the public perception that Morehead was more accomplished, and in his account of their discovery of the calcium carbide to acetylene process he greatly diminished Morehead’s role 103. Kenan’s account was discredited during the peer review process, but he used a publishing house he inherited to circulate his discovery account . This rivalry and Kenan’s desire to enhance his family’s position in UNC history allowed the university to recruit gifts from Kenan to modernize the stadium for roughly thirty-five years 104. Morehead was not the only rival capable of evoking action by Kenan . Frank Porter Graham, UNC president from 1930 to 1949, valued higher education over athletics and often attempted to regulate football . He sought to remove alumni- athletic giving solely for football by excluding athletes from university financial aid . Graham also attempted to defund athletic scholarships because he believed such action would return UNC to the elitist amateur model developed in Britain, which was championed by elite northern and southern universities who deemphasized football during the Great Depression 105. Northern schools that would make up the Ivy League collectively reduced their investments in football 106. Southern peers like Auburn, Georgetown, and Vanderbilt also began to deemphasize football 107. The socioeconomic pressures of the Great Depression led UNC to cut its budget by 40 percent during the 1930s, which seemed to validate the “Graham Plan ”. 108 Students, faculty, and alumni, however, resisted the plan, demonstrating the state’s affinity for football 109. Graham’s plan to deemphasize football was challenged when alumni created a separate fund-raising body to provide scholarships to athletes . The growing UNC alumni base established a separate athletic fund in 1938 called Educational Foundation Inc . (now the Rams Club) to supplement scholarships and athletic department spending 110. Like many institutions of the depression era, however, the maintenance of Kenan Stadium was deferred as a result of statewide austerity measures 111.

102 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 240 . 103 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 262; William Rand Kenan Jr ., Incidents by the Way: Lifetime Recollections and Reflections ([Lockport, N .Y .?]: Wm . R . Kenan Jr ., 1946), 138–143 . 104 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 240 . 105 . Stone, “Graham Plan of 1935,” 276–280 . 106 . Mark F . Bernstein, Football: The Ivy League Origins of an American Obsession (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001): 154–156 . 107 . Andrew Doyle, “ ‘Fighting Whiskey and Immorality’ at Auburn: The Politics of Southern Football, 1919–1927,” Southern Cultures 10, no . 3 (Fall 2004): 6–30 . 108 . Stone, “Graham Plan of 1935,” 281 . 109 . Stone, “Graham Plan of 1935,” 281–290 . 110 . “Education Foundation,” in Kenan Stadium: Planning and Construction, 1926–1927, UNC Department of Athletics Records . The Education Foundation athletic fund was fully incorporated into the athletic depart- ment in the 1950s . 111 . Stone, “Graham Plan of 1935,” 290–291; Chad Seifried and Donna Pastore, “This Stadium Looks and

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Kenan was almost certainly aggravated by Graham’s position and the decay of the stadium through his presidency 112. In addition, while academic traditionalists and supporters of UNC athletics fought to steer the future direction of the university, John Motley Morehead III pledged $2 million to build the Morehead Planetarium and Art Gallery . Morehead’s gift was a major component of the larger Morehead Foundation, which also featured an academic scholarship program . Kenan worried that the publicity and fanfare over Morehead’s gift threatened his family’s legacy . To establish a contrast with his rivals he increased his giving to the university by 400 percent over the previous six years, devoting special attention to the popular UNC athletic programs and Kenan Memorial Stadium 113. In a 1946 gift, Kenan provided $5,000 for preservation efforts intended to improve the stadium’s field condition, as the center of the field had sunk roughly a foot due to poor weather and a lack of upkeep . During 1947 and 1948, Kenan gave approximately $40,000 to increase the stadium’s capacity to 45,000 through temporary seating 114. The various stadium improvements in 1947 and 1948 prompted a complete rebuilding of the press box in 1949 for $180,000 . Kenan paid approximately half the cost and another $65,000 to update the field house; those improvements made it into a quasi-dormitory for some student-athletes . Praised for its beauty and modernity, the three-level press box was highly appreciated by photographers and radio broadcasters for its utility and superior accommodations . The third level served as a photographer’s platform, while the second level was specifically dedicated to radio broadcasts and held sixty-seven seats for print media . The first floor provided restrooms and storage space . The press box changes also incorporated a new luxury guest box for trustees, the university president, and special guests interested in UNC’s improving football teams . From 1946 through 1949, UNC produced three Top 25 rankings and an overall record of 32–9–2 . During this time, important rivalry games with Virginia and Duke and non-conference foes such as Tennessee, Georgia, Louisiana State University, and Texas produced home attendance records 115. Kenan continued giving to the university throughout the 1950s . From 1953 to 1956, he annually gave $10,000 to the university for scholarships . In 1954, he created the William R . Kenan Scholarship Fund for student-athletes with a gift of $20,000 . In

Tastes Just Like the Others: Cookie-Cutter-Era Sports Facilities from 1953–1991,” Sport History Review 40, no . 1 (May 2009): 48 . 112 . William Rand Kenan Jr ,. Incidents by the Way: More Recollections, 3rd ed . (N p. :. Wm . R . Kenan Jr ,. 1952) . Kenan believed that his financial contributions to UNC were not publicly celebrated in the same way as his philanthropic rival John Motley Morehead III . 113 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 303–307 . 114 . “Kenan Stadium–Unique in Setting and Beauty,” Daily Tar Heel, September 7, 1957, p . 7 . 115 . Kenan, Incidents by the Way: More Recollections, 34–41; Jake Wade, ed ,. University of North Carolina 1949 Football Blue Book for Press and Radio (Chapel Hill, N C. :. University News Bureau, 1949), 2; Pace, Football in a Forest, 101–107 .

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Kenan (right) is pictured here with George Stephens (left) and Jesse Oldham (center) . Photograph from the North Carolina Collection .

1956, he donated another $15,000 to the university for academic programming and between 1953 and 1958 he gave $68,000 to an endowment fund . Kenan provided $85,000 in 1957 to modernize and enlarge the stadium field house 116. Finally, in October 1962, Kenan gave UNC $750,000 to increase Kenan Stadium’s permanent seating to 40,000 and to improve spectator comfort . The 1962 renovation created tiered grandstands that provided cover to several thousand seats and new restrooms, concession stands, and offices to enhance its year-round utility for other university activities . The upgrades were completed prior to the 1963 season opener against

116 . “Post-scripts in Closing,” Alumni Review 45, no . 7 (1957): 214 .

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Kenan Stadium from the air, ca . 1940s . Courtesy of Lee Pace .

Virginia and allowed UNC to provide permanent seats for the expanding faculty and alumni . UNC athletic director Chuck Erickson welcomed Kenan’s latest round of improvements, stating, “By eliminating the temporary stands, we will be able to enhance the beauty of a stadium which is recognized now as one of the most beautiful in the world .”117 UNC did not institute these changes simply to appease Kenan’s ego . After World War II, the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944 (G I. . Bill) helped many American troops earn the opportunity to attend college 118. Competing with other institutions to attract students, universities sought to build or improve existing social centers, such as unions and recreation venues, and sport facilities to address growing

117 . “University Receives $750,000 Grant for Enlargement of Kenan Stadium,” Daily Tar Heel, October 24, 1962, 4; “Gift Will Provide 40,000 Permanent Seats in Stadium,” Alumni Review 51, no . 2 (1962): 47 . 118 . Annual Report of the Administrator of Veterans’ Affairs 1959 (Washington, D C. :. Government Printing Office, 1959), 239 . Toward the end of the original G .I . Bill Act in July 1956, roughly 7 .8 million World War II veterans participated in some sort of education or training program . Before the end of the 1950s, seven out of every ten men were veterans .

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UNC–University of Georgia game at Kenan Stadium, 1965 . Photograph courtesy of Lee Pace, 1966 Yackety Yack, p . 367 . and anticipated campus needs and student preferences 119. An improving economy in the form of low unemployment, rising manufacturing, and higher salaries, as well as a dramatic population shift also occurred throughout the United States . According to the U S. . Census, the population of the U S. . South grew more than 20 percent between 1940 and 1960 . The United States entered the 1950s as the strongest economy in the world, producing about 40 percent of the world’s goods, resulting

119 . Howard Taylor, William F . Canning, Paul Brailsford, and Frank Rokosz, “Financial Issues in Campus Recreation,” New Directions for Student Services 103 (September 2003): 74–75 .

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in a Gross National Product of $482 7. billion by 1960 120. At UNC, the expansion and improvement of Kenan Stadium were in line with previous goals to increase and improve the facility as the student population grew to nearly 10,000 by 1962 121. Kenan Memorial Stadium holds a unique place in the history of college football, the American South, the State of North Carolina, and UNC . It was the first major permanent sports facility built in North Carolina and the first in the state to broadcast a sporting event over the radio . Kenan Stadium anchored the permanence of college football as a popular activity throughout North Carolina and demonstrated that college football and its supporting facilities could attract new students, enhance alumni relations, and refute the popular belief that the South was culturally and economically inferior to the North . While Kenan Stadium was not the first stadium to be built through the benefaction of a single person, it exists as a rare example of a facility that consistently received funding from one individual over a period of forty years . Kenan’s individual agency as a member of a professional class demonstrates that single individuals can impose important physical changes on university campuses through building stadiums 122. In this instance, the limits of state funding prompted UNC to seek out donations to pay for what would eventually become Kenan Stadium . After amassing a large personal fortune, Kenan agreed to finance all initial construction to enhance the legacy of the Kenan family name and to give back to a university that provided him an education and access to various athletic opportunities . Kenan displayed aspects of modern athletic donor behavior—building and improving a major sports facility at UNC—to increase his own visibility, as well as that of his family and alma mater . Rivalry (with family members, friends, and opponents) played an important role in the volume and frequency of Kenan’s giving . He developed fund-raising programs to ensure that his reputation as a major donor was well established . In his autobiography, Kenan highlighted the dollar amounts of each donation he made to UNC, while also recording a running total of his donation costs 123. The expansion of seating and improvements to amenities and broadcast technology within the stadium indicates that a growing population of UNC football supporters had definite expectations about the best way to consume the sport . UNC modified the stadium to capture student, alumni, and spectator dollars by enhancing the size of the facility and number of seats, ultimately accommodating television broadcasting technology

120 . William H . Young with Nancy K . Young, The 1950s (Westport, Conn :. Greenwood Publishing Group, 2004), 3–6 . 121 . “University Receives $750,000 Grant,” 4 . 122 . Chad Seifried, “The Development of ‘Death Valley’ in Louisiana: Modernization and Tiger Stadium, 1924–2013,” Louisiana History 57 (Spring 2016): 184–218 . 123 . Campbell, Across Fortune’s Tracks, 307 .

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and luxury accommodations . UNC also enhanced its fund-raising practices . When Kenan perceived that personal rivalries might challenge or marginalize his or his family’s reputation, he responded with additional financial commitments to improve the stadium and address consumer needs . He believed that a modern university needed a modern athletic plant, even when others, such as Frank Porter Graham, appeared to ignore the prospective contribution the spirit of athletics provided the school . To this end William Rand Kenan Jr ’s. efforts were largely successful, as he secured the position of his family’s name in an important social anchor of the university community . Further, his philanthropy built a modern structure that advanced the University of North Carolina’s place within national and regional higher education and athletics .

Dr. Seifried is a professor and graduate coordinator for Sport Management at Louisiana State University. He uses historical methods to review the management history associated with organiza- tions, individuals, and sport facilities to highlight the contribution of history within contemporary management settings. He has published numerous articles in sport management, marketing, educa- tion, law, history, and management journals.

Dr. Downs is a graduate teaching assistant in the School of Kinesiology and Sport Management at Louisiana State University. He uses historical methods to review management history as it relates to sport facilities, individuals, and leadership by examining the evolution of professional multipurpose facilities in urban centers. He will begin teaching at Ball State University in the fall of 2019.

THE NORTH CAROLINA HISTORICAL REVIEW From Objects to Agents of Tolerance: Jews and Tolerance Talk in Asheville, North Carolina, 1894–1954

Seth Epstein

he tall obelisk located in the central civic square of Asheville, North Carolina, Thas played a role in Lost Cause commemorations since its dedication in 1898 . It was erected in honor of the state’s Civil War and Redeemer governor Zebulon Vance, who was born in Buncombe County and died in 1894 while serving as one of the state’s U S. . senators . Its dedication included a show of strength by the local United Confederate Veterans chapter, which was named for Vance . The chapter’s collective “shout” in response to the band’s rendition of “Dixie” shook “the leaves of the trees about Monument Square ”. 1 The gavel used at this ceremony, made with wood from Chickamauga’s battlefield, was used at various other dedications in honor of heroes of the Confederacy, such as the unveiling of the monument to Jefferson Davis’s daughter in Richmond, Virginia 2. By the late 1930s, however, the monument also came to be associated with a commitment to tolerance through the efforts of local Jews and Christians . The late governor’s Gilded Age address, “The Scattered Nation,” provided the opportunity for this additional association to take shape . Vance wrote the first draft of the speech between his terms as Civil War and Redeemer governor . After surrendering to the Union army in April 1865, Vance resided for a short time in Statesville, North Carolina, where he came into regular contact with Jews for the first time .3 Temporarily barred from holding political office after the war, he turned

1 . “The Monument Is Dedicated,” Asheville Citizen, May 13, 1898, p . 1 . 2 . “Zeb Vance Camp’s Museum of Relics,” Asheville Daily Citizen, January 16, 1900, p . 2 . 3 . Selig Adler, “Zebulon B . Vance and the ‘Scattered Nation,’ ” Journal of Southern History 7, no . 3 (August 1941): 358 .

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to working as a lawyer and lecturer based in Charlotte, a booming city relatively unscathed by war 4. Vance likely wrote and first delivered “The Scattered Nation” in the early 1870s while a resident there . His contemporaries valued the popular speech as a representation of the New South . While governor, Vance received a request from the superintendent of the Texas Military Institute to contribute some piece of writing to a collection whose purpose was to “illustrate the ‘New South’ in oratory, dialectic, poetry and general literature ”. The superintendent, Col . J . G . James, called on Vance to represent the region, as the book would “do full justice to the genius, talent and culture of Southern statesmen .”5 James’s second letter specifically asked for Vance’s “lecture on the Jews .” As befitting a representation of the New South, James assured Vance that the collection would be “broad and catholic in tone, pure in thought and expression, and devoid of all that could offend sectional prejudices .”6 Wilma Dykeman, writing in the New York Times more than sixty years after his death, noted that Vance’s oratorical skills served as an instrument of reconciliation as he “spoke throughout the North ”. 7 Biographer Selig Adler noted that in the 1870s and 1880s, Vance gave the speech hundreds of times across the nation 8. He delivered the address while governor as well, including in 1878 at Fayetteville, where the black normal school was located, to a segregated audience of African Americans and whites 9. The speech asserted that Jews of Western and Central Europe and the United States had shown the exemplary characteristics of the liberal subject, particularly the willingness and even eagerness to be judged as individuals . Such Jews, whom Vance likened to “Unitarians or Deists,” asked only one thing of Vance’s audience, that its members “judge [him] as we judge other men—by his merits ”. Such Jews had demonstrated their worth . For instance, when legal equality was established, Jews built farms and houses, demonstrating the “same permanent attachments to the soil” as others . They had therefore earned their fellow citizens’ tolerance . The address formulated this liberal characteristic as a just consideration of individual merit, predicated on an individual’s performance of citizenship 10.

4 . Gordon McKinney, Zeb Vance: North Carolina’s Civil War Governor and Gilded Age Political Leader (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004), 271; Thomas W . Hanchett, Sorting Out the New South City: Race, Class, and Urban Development in Charlotte, 1875–1975 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1998), 24 . 5 . John G . James to Zebulon B . Vance, January 1, 1878, Zebulon Baird Vance Papers #3952 (hereinafter Vance Papers), Southern Historical Collection, Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill . 6 . John G . James to Zebulon B . Vance, January 19, 1878, Vance Papers . 7 . Wilma Dykeman, “North Carolina Salutes a Native Son,” New York Times, July 9, 1961, p . 13 . 8 . Adler, “Zebulon B . Vance,” 374 . 9 . “The Scattered Nation,” Fayetteville North Carolina Gazette, February 14, 1878, n .p . 10 . Zebulon Vance, “The Scattered Nation,” in Zebulon B. Vance and “The Scattered Nation,” ed . Maurice A . Weinstein (Charlotte, N .C .: Wildacres Press, 1995), 61–93 . Vance served as governor of North Carolina from 1862 until 1865 (he was reelected in 1864) and from 1877 through 1879 . Before his third term was finished,

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Zebulon B . Vance, ca . 1870–1880, Brady-Handy Photograph Collection, Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D C. .

To be tolerant and to apprise worth accurately was both a mark of civilization and a claim to legitimate power . Vance held that “[t]he true gentleman, Jew or Gentile, will always recognize the true gentleman, Jew or Gentile .” To practice tolerance and individualized judgment, furthermore, demanded rigor . When we find gold,” he implored, “let us recognize it . Let us prove all things and hold fast that which is good .”11 Vance made explicit the relationship he saw between toleration of Jews and the marginalization of African Americans . He denied the applicability of legal equality for African Americans, who were forced into such a relationship “with those whom [they] could not equal .”12 By emphasizing seemingly objective measures, Vance presented himself as a rational, liberal figure . While its subject is Jewish history and present circumstances, historians have called attention to how “The Scattered Nation” implicitly addressed wider political

he became U .S . senator . He continued in this position until his death in April 1894 . For an excellent biogra- phy of Vance, see McKinney, Zeb Vance . 11 . Vance, “The Scattered Nation,” 88 . 12 . Vance, “The Scattered Nation,” 87 .

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Vance monument in Pack Square, erected in 1896 . Photograph, ca . 1900–1925, in the W . B . McEwen and Caroline Nichols McEwen Collection, D . H . Ramsey Library Special Collections, University of North Carolina at Asheville .

conflicts . Steven E . Nash has argued that the address implicitly compared Jews and white southerners in their common experiences of victimization and similar struggles against “ruthless foes ”. 13 For Democrats like Vance, perfect democracy, for which he lauded the ancient Jewish state, could be approached only by a restoration of conservative whites’ power in the state . Anne C . Rose has similarly argued that,

13 . Steven E . Nash, “The Immortal Vance: The Political Commemoration of North Carolina’s War Gov- ernor,” in North Carolinians in the Era of the Civil War and Reconstruction, ed . Paul D . Escott (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2008), 272 .

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far from being apolitical, the speech was inseparable from Vance’s position as a “defeated southern governor committed to the restoration of home rule ”. 14 The speech showed how formulations of religious tolerance worked to “legitimate exclusion on grounds besides faith,” and it became an important element of Vance’s legacy 15. Local activists engaged in a process identified as “allied symbolic accretion” by the geographer Owen Dwyer . In this process, “activists seek to further their position vis-à-vis an established memorial presence ”. 16 The memorial on the central square afforded opportunities for Jews to represent themselves in public space as well as opportunities for white Christians to demonstrate their tolerance . These opportunities partly reflected the prominence of tolerance in interwar discussions of American national character and early Cold War attempts to distinguish the democratic United States from the totalitarian Soviet Union . A broad range of organizations with different priorities placed tolerance at the center of American identity, as liberal activists and business leaders alike emphasized its value before, during, and after World War II 17. Historians have highlighted the limitations in prominent activists’ visions of a national consensus in the 1930s and 1940s 18. Stuart Svonkin, for instance, has argued that intergroup activists who advocated tolerance of difference nonetheless often failed to confront the relationship between economic and political inequality and “prejudice and discrimination .”19 Such broad patterns, however, cannot by themselves explain local processes or social relations . The limitations of tolerance as an agent of social change were created at the local level as well . In Asheville, the association of Vance’s memory with tolerance both created space for public participation and sharply outlined the ideas that would be tolerated within it . Although the monument never shed its association with white supremacy, it helped create a framework for discussions of tolerance and empowered Jews to discuss tolerance in civic debates . Focusing solely on this enduring association, however, would overlook the important ways in which formulations of tolerance in Asheville evolved between the 1920s and 1950s . Studying changing ideas of tolerance, Jews’ contributions to them, and the role of the Vance monument in facilitating public performances and declarations of tolerance can also help us understand how southern whites sought to impede blacks’ struggles for civil rights . When African Americans marched for

14 . Anne C . Rose, Victorian America and the Civil War (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 44 . 15 . Rose, Victorian America, 45 . 16 . Owen J . Dwyer, “Symbolic Accretion and Commemoration,” Social and Cultural Geography 5, no . 3 (Sep- tember 2004): 421 . 17 . Wendy L . Wall, Inventing the “American Way”: The Politics of Consensus from the New Deal to the Civil Rights Movement (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), 8 . 18 . Wall, Inventing the “American Way,” 67 . 19 . Stuart Svonkin, Jews against Prejudice: American Jews and the Fight for Civil Liberties (New York: Columbia University Press, 1997), 5 .

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freedom and equality in Greensboro, the city responded with calls for moderation, establishing North Carolina’s “progressive mystique ”. That veneer of progressivism ultimately crumbled . Moderate whites did not consider that their commitment to tolerance and consensus arose from their own privileged status . Greensboro was not the only city where whites proudly asserted their restraint and reasonableness . White elites of ostensibly cosmopolitan locales like Asheville, whose racial progressivism was praised by the African American newspaper Atlanta Daily World in 1955, were similarly unwilling to question the terms of their own power until the direct action of black freedom movement activists forced them to do so 20. During the period examined in this article, the public ceremonies and deliberations surrounding the Vance monument helped alter the concept of tolerance . The monument was no longer heralded as a symbol of white supremacy; instead, it became a symbol of democratic values . Jews played an important role in this transition . There were two elements of this transition . First, early in the century, both Jews and non-Jews believed tolerance was a duty embraced by powerful elites . By mid-century, however, the people who discussed tolerance, including religious leaders and political figures, imagined that a wider range of people practiced tolerance . Speakers individualized its possession so that it was the responsibility of all and a product of individual self-discipline . Secondly, participants in public tolerance discussions also extended the quality of difference to a wider population . During the 1920s, only those who transgressed racial or religious norms were framed as different and potentially deviant . Thus, they became the only possible objects of tolerance . By the beginning of the 1950s, whites who preached tolerance expanded their notions of difference . Prominent local activists like Temple Beth HaTephila’s Rabbi Sidney Unger in Asheville universalized, naturalized, and to some extent standardized racial and religious differences . Between the 1920s and 1950s, Jews made the transition from objects to agents of tolerance in Asheville’s public ceremonial spaces . Political theorist Wendy Brown notes that the discourse of tolerance creates its objects and agents: those who asserted their possession of this liberal characteristic defined cultural norms such as Christianity and whiteness as well as others’ departures from those norms . These positions were political; they were not simply interchangeable, nor were they

20 . William H . Chafe, Civilities and Civil Rights: Greensboro, North Carolina, and the Black Struggle for Freedom (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980), 8; William Gordon, “Reviewing the News: Moving Forward with Measured Steps,” Atlanta Daily World, June 12, 1955, p . 4 . For more on the complicated and changing rela- tionship between liberalism and white supremacy, see Anthony J . Badger, New Deal/New South: An Anthony J. Badger Reader (Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 2007); and J . Douglas Smith, Managing White Suprem- acy: Race, Politics, and Citizenship in Jim Crow Virginia (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2002) .

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absolutely fixed 21. In the early twentieth century, historian Leonard Rogoff argues, Jews occupied a “tentative civic position” in North Carolina cities .22 Their ambiguous status allowed Jews to move from being the objects of Christians’ tolerance to agents who themselves were empowered to practice tolerance . Vance ceremonies provided Jews with opportunities to participate in civic rituals . Jews in Asheville, like Jews in Durham in the 1920s, were able to present and speak for themselves as Jews, Americans, and southerners through their relation to Vance’s memory 23. Jews’ whiteness was also important to their local social and political incorporation, however conditional . They could be assimilated without disrupting America’s racial system .24 Public notions of tolerance during the 1920s framed the “community’s” acceptance of Jews as conditional, dependent on whether they had demonstrated their merit, patriotism, and citizenship . In such instances, those who judged Jews’ worth were expressing white Christian norms . Jews presented themselves publicly as objects of tolerance offered by Vance and, by extension, organizations like the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC), who saw themselves as keepers of his legacy 25. The city’s main civic square was a key locale for formulating these meanings and demonstrating tolerance . What was then called Court Square was already one of the city’s most heavily regulated spaces in 1898, when the UDC and other donors erected the seventy-five-foot-tall granite obelisk there in honor of Vance .26 Some Jews quickly recognized that the memorialization of Vance offered a chance to demonstrate their gratitude and appreciation to him . Only a few weeks after the Democratic senator’s death in April 1894, the Asheville Citizen reprinted a letter from the prominent local merchant Solomon Lipinsky, originally published in the Richmond, Virginia-based Jewish South . Lipinsky, who had lived in the city for nearly

21 . Wendy Brown, Regulating Aversion: Tolerance in the Age of Identity and Empire (Princeton, N J. :. Princeton University Press, 2006), 187 . 22 . Leonard Rogoff, Down Home: Jewish Life in North Carolina (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2010), 221 . 23 . Leonard Rogoff, Homelands: Southern Jewish Identity in Durham and Chapel Hill, North Carolina (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2001), 134–135 . For more on the Jewish community in Asheville, see Sharon Fahrer, A Home in Shalom’ville: The History of Asheville’s Jewish Community (Asheville, N .C .: Jewish Community Center of Asheville, 2015) . 24 . Rogoff, Down Home, 213 . 25 . For the UDC and the Lost Cause, see Karen L . Cox, Dixie’s Daughters: The United Daughters of the Confed- eracy and the Preservation of Confederate Culture (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2003); Cynthia Mills, “Introduction,” in Monuments to the Lost Cause: Women, Art, and the Landscapes of Southern Memory, ed . Cyn- thia Mills and Pamela H . Simpson (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 2003); David W . Blight, Race and Reunion: The Civil War in American Memory (Cambridge, Mass :. Harvard University Press, 2001); Charles Reagan Wilson, Baptized in Blood: The Religion of the Lost Cause, 1865–1920 (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1980); and Catherine W . Bishir, “Landmarks of Power: Building a Southern Past, 1885–1915,” Southern Cultures 1, no . 1 (1993): 5–45 . 26 . The minutes of the Asheville Board of Aldermen (later called the Board of Commissioners) attest to the numerous attempts of city elites to regulate individuals’ and groups’ access to Pack Square and its vicinity . For a specific example of the intensive regulation of the square, see “No . 3,” “Minutes of the Proceedings of the Board of Aldermen, 1896–1898,” June 25, 1897, pp . 234–235, Office of the City Clerk, Asheville, North Carolina .

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Solomon Lipinsky, n .d ., Lipinsky Family Collection, UNC-Asheville Special Collections . a decade, was a co-owner of downtown’s Bon Marché, which would become one of the city’s largest department stores by the 1920s . His letter scolded the periodical for ignoring Vance’s passing and thus failing to acknowledge the debt that all Jews in the nation owed the late political figure for his oft-delivered Philo-Semitic address . Further, Lipinsky’s letter suggested that Jews should repay that debt by helping to make the prospective Vance monument “one of the handsomest monuments in the country .”27 Asheville’s own “merchant prince” and future alderman also repeated an anecdote concerning Vance’s delivery of his famous address in Asheville in the late 1870s . The governor had chided his audience for the city’s near complete lack of Jews . Until

27 . Asheville Daily Citizen, April 30, 1894 . Philo-Semitic expressions, such as those in Vance’s speech, often mirrored others’ rationales for anti-Semitism . Both orientations shared similar assumptions about Jews’ financial prowess and unmixed racial purity . See Vance, “The Scattered Nation,” 84–85 .

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Exterior of the Bon Marché Department Store, co-owned by Solomon Lipinsky, ca . 1911–1923, E . M . Ball Collection, UNC-Asheville Special Collections .

“they had some Jews amongst them,” Vance prophesied, the city would not prosper . Lipinsky thus connected a Jewish presence in Asheville to its prosperity and staked a claim to the monument at the same time . As his letter makes clear, at least some in the city almost immediately conceived of the future monument as a symbol of both Vance and Jews’ collective gratitude to him 28. The extent of Jews’ contributions to the construction of the obelisk is unclear, however . The main benefactor, donating roughly two-thirds of the $3,000 necessary, was the wealthy northern industrialist George Pack, for whom the square would be renamed in 1903 . In the early century, Pack Square was one of several city sites enlisted in the observance of Confederate Memorial Day and Confederate veteran reunions .29

28 . “Jews Esteemed Vance,” Asheville Daily Citizen, April 30, 1894, p . 2 . 29 . “Grizzled Veterans of the Sixties Pass in Grand Review before Thousands of Their Enthusiastic Admir- ers,” Asheville Citizen, September 1, 1904, p . 1; “Veterans Parade and Attend Big Meeting,” Asheville Citizen, May 11, 1917, p . 3; “Memorial Day Was Fittingly Observed,” Asheville Citizen, May 11, 1918, p . 5 .

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Confederate reunion in Pack Square, pre-1910, W . B . McEwen and Caroline Nichols McEwen Collection, UNC- Asheville Special Collections .

During the 1920s, both the UDC and Asheville’s Jews continued their efforts to preserve Vance’s memory . Jews first contributed to the space early in the 1920s . In 1921, New York philanthropist and department store owner Nathan Straus laid a wreath at the base of the obelisk and donated $200 for the construction of an iron fence surrounding the monument . Although there was no marker on the fence that identified it as such, Straus’s contributions would be recalled in later commemorations as an example of Jews’ long-standing gratitude 30. In the middle of the decade, the UDC celebrated Vance’s birthday separately from the state’s Confederate Memorial Day, which was three days before the late governor’s birthday on May 13 . His widowed second wife appeared in one such ceremony before her death in 1925 31. As tourists and consumers, Jews in Asheville presented themselves

30 . “Bronze Tablet Will Be Unveiled Friday on Vance Monument,” Asheville Citizen-Times, May 8, 1938, p . 5; Selig Adler, “Zebulon B . Vance and the ‘Scattered Nation,’ ” Journal of Southern History 7, no . 3 (August 1941): 376; “Vance Is Eulogized at Memorial Service Here,” Asheville Citizen, May 14, 1942, p . 18 . 31 . “To Make Memorial Services for Governor Vance Annual Event in Western Carolina,” Asheville Citizen, May 12, 1922, p . 2; “Birth Anniversary of Zebulon Vance Recalled in City,” Asheville Citizen, May 13, 1925, p . 12 .

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publicly as objects both of Vance’s and the city’s collective tolerance . The occasion was the 1926 meeting of the Central Conference of American Rabbis, an organization of Reform rabbis . During this convention, a representative committee of northern and southern rabbis laid a wreath at the Pack Square monument to demonstrate their appreciation both to Vance and the city . The committee also crafted a resolution stating that Vance was a “true American . . . who had earned the love of all fair minded men .” These actions made Jews’ acknowledgment of Vance’s efforts on their behalf material and explicit, although impermanent .32 The gathering of some ninety rabbis and their families represented the financial benefits of tolerance in a decade in which city leaders focused on developing the city into an attractive tourist and convention destination 33. During the convention the

32 . “Place Wreath on Monument to Zeb Vance,” Asheville Times, June 25, 1926, p . 1 . 33 . Richard Starnes, “ ‘A Conspicuous Example of What is Termed the New South’: Tourism and Urban Development in Asheville, North Carolina, 1880–1925,” North Carolina Historical Review 80, no . 1 (January 2003): 78–79; Richard Starnes, Creating the Land of the Sky: Tourism and Society in Western North Carolina (Tus- caloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2005), 86–88 .

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Asheville Times, reflecting this boosterism, recommended to its readers that the city should collectively be “proud of its Jewish population” for their contributions to its “social and material advancement .”34 For the convention’s presence in Asheville, the city’s Jews and newspapers credited the efforts of Rabbi Moses P . Jacobson of the Reform congregation Beth HaTephila . Welcoming the convention on its opening day, Jacobson assured his gathered colleagues that the city was a “place of tolerance” free of racial and religious prejudice . Jacobson related Vance’s defense of Jews to the nature of the city, suggesting that the city’s liberalism was mirrored in its famous native son .35 To support his point about the city’s tolerant and liberal nature, Jacobson also cited local institutions’ and individuals’ actions the previous year, when an African American man stood accused of assaulting a white woman . Jacobson noted how “our officers” stopped his attempted lynching, with the leaders of the would-be lynch mob receiving prison terms . Furthermore, although convicted in what Jacobson termed “expedited” fashion and sentenced to death, the convicted person’s innocence was established through the later testimony of “white women, born and bred in the south ”. As a result of this newly presented evidence, the “best men and women in our city are interceding for the boy’s life ”. 36 Jacobson did not go into as much depth in demonstrating the city’s tolerance of Jews . He did, however, single out for praise James Hay Jr ,. who was attending the convention in his role as an editor for the Asheville Citizen . He commended Hay for his astute editorials that illustrated “discriminating recognition of Jewish character and Jewish performance ”. Hay did so, moreover, “of his own accord, and without other promptings ”. 37 Jacobson, in other words, complimented Hay on his correct assessment of Jews’ individual and collective worth to the community and defined this assessment as a form of tolerance . In making a case for the city’s tolerant nature, then, Jacobson referred to institutions of authority charged with the enforcement of law as well as influential, representative white Christian elites of the city . Several days after Jacobson’s welcoming speech, he was joined at a Kiwanis Club lunch by two other rabbis, who reiterated the themes of individual judgment and

34 . “Tolerance in North Carolina,” Asheville Times, June 23, 1926, p . 4 . While it noted the presence of a minority in Asheville dedicated to fomenting “religious and racial bitterness,” the article predicted its num- bers would wither in time . The article could be referring to the Ku Klux Klan, which was active during this period in Asheville, as elsewhere . 35 . “Race Prejudice Not Rife in State, Rabbi Declares,” Asheville Citizen, June 23, 1926, pp . 1, 21 . The Asheville Citizen and the Asheville Times covered the convention extensively, with front-page stories between June 22 and 26 reporting on the convention’s proceedings and multiple positive editorials . 36 . Jacobson was likely referring to Alvin Mansel, who was wrongly convicted of sexual assault in 1925 . Mansel’s sentence was commuted in 1926 to life in prison . Four years later he was paroled . See Seth Kotch, Lethal State: A History of the Death Penalty in North Carolina (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019), 37–38 . 37 . “Race Prejudice Not Rife in State, Rabbi Declares,” Asheville Citizen, June 23, 1926, pp . 1, 21 .

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Asheville’s status as a tolerant locale . Rabbi Louis Wolsey of the Rodeph Shalom Congregation in Philadelphia was the main speaker at what was one of the club’s “largest attended luncheons ”. Wolsey, who would be elected to a second term as president of the Central Conference of American Rabbis while in Asheville, stressed the duty of judging an individual based on “an appraisal of that man’s ideals,” rather than lineage 38. His statement that “[n]o race was ‘chosen’ ” faulted intense nationalism for precipitating World War I . It also could have been perceived as an implicit disavowal of Jewish exceptionalism . While Wolsey focused on one of the central characteristics of tolerance, Rabbi Alfred G . Moses of Mobile, Alabama, complimented the “tolerant spirit” of Asheville 39. Christian whites formulated definitions of tolerance in which Jews were expected to prove their worth to the community . Their judgments regarding local Jews’ fitness explicitly accounted for both their departure from and embodiment of Christian norms 40. Solomon Lipinsky’s death in late March 1925 provided an opening for multiple actors to define his worth to the city and its residents . The remarks of Christian whites suggest how objects of tolerance in the period both differed from the majority and ostensibly transcended that difference . The Citizen, in addition to its extensive coverage and editorials praising Lipinsky’s contributions to the city’s progress and development, printed multiple letters to the editor from residents . According to one writer, Lipinsky’s fair and even generous economic dealing extended to African Americans as well as whites, women as well as men . The author, A . L . Darrow, invoked the Jewishness of Jesus Christ to explain Lipinsky’s greatness .41 This was not the only editorial that chose to explain the merchant’s virtue through recourse to Christianity . A second, published the same day, averred that Lipinsky was “not only a Jew . He was also a Christian ”. This author recounted a story meant to illustrate the kindness of the deceased in his role as employer—“a kindness no less truly Christian because he was a Jew ”. In their attempts to not erase his Jewishness but rather render it both intelligible and irrelevant, such commentators were demonstrating that Lipinsky in fact departed from Christian norms . However, his exceptional character made this departure irrelevant and in fact, confirmed him as a Christian .42

38 . “Rabbi’s Praise of Sesqui Fair Sent Coolidge,” Asheville Sunday Citizen, June 27, 1926, p . 2 . 39 . “Rabbis Address Kiwanis Lunch,” Asheville Times, June 26, 1926, p . B10 . 40 . Earlier in the decade the Citizen publicly acknowledged Asheville Jews’ demonstrations of loyalty and worth to the community, expressing support for a local Jewish sanatorium planned by B’nai B’rith and for a charity drive to assist Jewish refugees fleeing post–World War I violence . See “The Sanatorium for Jews,” Ashe- ville Citizen, January 27, 1922, p . 4; and “Needs Greater than Ours,” Asheville Citizen, February 8, 1922, p . 4 . 41 . A . L . Darrow, “Solomon Lipinsky,” Asheville Citizen, March 29, 1925, Solomon Lipinsky Family Papers (hereinafter Lipinsky Family Papers), Special Collections, D . H . Ramsey Library (hereinafter UNC-Asheville Special Collections), University of North Carolina at Asheville . 42 . “A Good Man Gone,” Asheville Citizen, March 29, 1925, Lipinsky Family Papers .

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The writers of these tributes attempted to erase meaningful differences between Lipinsky and the Christian majority, demonstrating how tolerance facilitated civic inclusion for some while excluding others . With his potentially troubling difference now erased, the recently deceased merchant could be recognized as white and celebrated in testimonials . Tolerance for Jews thus demanded the diminution of their difference . In contrast, whites sought to starkly define differences between themselves and African Americans . The culture of segregation represented the efforts of whites to police differences between themselves and African Americans . Jews could be Christians, but African Americans could not and must not be white .43 The identification of Jews’ exemplary “Christian” traits indirectly testified to their perceived whiteness . While Christians meant to be complimentary in assigning Christian virtues to Jews, Lipinsky’s own actions reflected Jews’ desires to be considered American, rather than Christian . His early call for Jews to contribute to the Vance monument demonstrated this sentiment . During an argument in 1919 over the religious orientation of Beth HaTephila, Lipinsky argued for a Reform congregation on the grounds that an “American” generation was coming of age 44. Lipinsky himself was both the president of Beth HaTephila and a member of the Asheville Country Club, suggesting that, for him, assimilation into the social structure in the city did not demand that he become Christian 45. The one speaker who remembered Lipinsky as a Jew and whose voice was captured by the Asheville newspapers was, appropriately, the rabbi . In his eulogy in front of a temple overflowing with Jews and non-Jews, Jacobson termed the former temple president “a staunch, a warm-hearted, a magnificent Jew ”. By itself the statement is unexceptional, particularly as it was delivered by a religious figure . However, in the context of how others publicly framed the character of Lipinsky, Jacobson’s insistence on remembering him as a Jew is striking 46. His eulogy of Lipinsky as well as his later sermons suggest that Jacobson himself was ambivalent about what it meant during this period for white Christians to imagine Jews as objects of their tolerance .47 Nevertheless, he also sought to make Jews’ gratitude to Vance more widely known .

43 . While Jews’ racial status as white was more contested and uncertain in the North than the South during the first half of the twentieth century, notions of the nature of Jews’ difference were contested in the latter region as well . See Eric Goldstein, The Price of Whiteness: Jews, Race, and American Identity (Princeton, N J. :. Princeton University Press, 2006); Leonard Rogoff, “Is the Jew White?: The Racial Place of the Southern Jew,” American Jewish History 85, no . 3 (September 1997): 204–205; and Grace Elizabeth Hale, Making White- ness: The Culture of Segregation in the South, 1890–1940 (New York: Pantheon Books, 1998), 9 . 44 . Rogoff, Down Home, 213 . 45 . Rogoff, Down Home, 161 . 46 . Asheville Citizen, March 31, 1925 . 47 . See, for instance, Jacobson, “Praeterea Conseo Germaniam Esse Delendam,” typescript of speech, March 9,

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At their 1926 gathering, the Central Conference of American Rabbis discussed the idea of Asheville’s Jews erecting their own monument to Vance . The local B’nai B’rith, a Jewish voluntary organization founded in the United States that sought to integrate “a Jewish civil religion within the more general American civil religion,” played a leading role in organizing the effort 48. The local lodge’s “Vance Memorial Committee” worked toward realizing this proposal for longer than a year prior to the monument’s erection in the courtyard of the Calvary Episcopal Church in October 1928 . The courtyard, known locally as the “Westminster Abbey of the Southland,” was in the adjacent community of Fletcher . It was dedicated largely to setting the Lost Cause in concrete . The monument joined others there in honoring “memorable geniuses of Dixie,” such as Robert E . Lee and the poet Sidney Lanier . The man responsible for the courtyard, the church’s rector Clarence McClelland, spoke at the beginning of the dedication . He hoped that the space, newly marked by a prominent Jewish contribution to its landscape, would become a place where Jews, Catholics, and Protestants could “meet on a common ground of brotherhood, without prejudice, and without suspicion .”49 Stephen S . Wise, whom the Citizen termed the nation’s “foremost Jew,” delivered the event’s main address before an estimated crowd of two thousand Jews and non-Jews . Wise, the rabbi of the Reform Free Synagogue in New York City, emphasized his representative and exotic “blackgarbed” presence at the ceremony by predicting that “many people in the audience were looking at a rabbi for the first time in their lives ”. That he was in North Carolina shortly before the close of the contentious 1928 presidential election was telling . Both Wise and the Asheville Citizen supported Al Smith . The rabbi was an associate of the New York governor and Democratic candidate, having campaigned for him during that year’s presidential contest . The election, in which normally safe post–disenfranchisement Democratic states were in play due to anti-Catholic sentiment, provided a context for the celebration of Vance and its wide coverage .50 Wise’s tribute made clear that tolerance was an act of power in part by employing the language of race and of racial exceptionalism to explain its possession . Wise’s speech formulated tolerance as a racial characteristic . The “great racial tradition, the

1933, pp . 1, 2, Moses P . Jacobson Papers #261, Jacob Rader Marcus Center of the American Jewish Archives (hereinafter American Jewish Archives), Cincinnati, Ohio . 48 . Cornelia Wilhelm, The Independent Orders of B’nai B’rith and True Sisters: Pioneers of a New Jewish Identity, 1843–1914 (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2011), 5 . 49 . Asheville Citizen, October 15, 1928 . 50 . Asheville Citizen, October 15, 1928 . Despite being a reliably Democratic state since the almost total disen- franchisement of African Americans in the early twentieth century, North Carolina voted for Hoover in 1928 by a 55–45 split . See The American Presidency Project, University of California, Santa Barbara, “Election of 1928,” http://www .presidency .ucsb .edu/showelection .php?year=1928 .

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Calvary Episcopal Church, E . M . Ball Collection, UNC-Asheville Special Collections . The memorial to Zebulon B . Vance (not pictured) on the church grounds, erected in 1928 by the local B’nai B’rith lodge, is one of a group of large granite boulders known as the “Open-Air Westminster Abbey of the South ”. The plaque on the front of the marker states: “In Loving Memory / Zebulon Baird Vance / Friend, Patriot, Philanthropist / Scholar, Ora- tor, Statesman . Loyal Friend to the Jewish People / Whom He Honored in the Classic Lecture / ‘The Scattered Nation .’ ”

Anglo-Saxon tradition,” he asserted, was to treat Jews with justice . By emphasizing its possession and practice as an Anglo-Saxon legacy and heritage, the address implicitly supported whites’ claims to political power and their fair treatment of minorities . As a representative Jew, the rabbi invoked the gratitude that “We of the House of Israel” felt toward Vance as objects of his and other Christians’ tolerance . He noted that Jews “have never forgotten” those who had demonstrated compassion to them . They were, he told his audience, “grateful for justice,” whose expression he equated with the practice of tolerance .51 After its construction, non-Jews also made use of the Vance monument in their attempts to make tolerance a civic value . Rector McClelland, true to his words on the day of the monument’s unveiling, endeavored to make his courtyard a place where this value was honored . The church held a “Vance Festival” on the centennial of the governor’s birthday in 1930 . An editorial in the Citizen reminded its readers

51 . “Thousands at Calvary Hear Jewish Leader,” Asheville Citizen, October 15, 1928, pp . 1–2 .

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that it was proper to hold the festival at that location, because “the Jewish people of Asheville” had lately honored Vance there with a permanent marker . With flags and flowers adorning the marker, McClelland spoke of Vance’s “great love for the Jewish people,” which he had expressed through his speech . There was “no finer tribute to the great Jewish race” in American history than Vance’s address . Finally, the rector urged the more extensive circulation of tolerance among the community and the nation, recommending that Americans “read and re-read” that lecture in order to “catch the spirit of Vance’s attitude toward the Jew .” In McClelland’s phrasing, then, the attitude of tolerance was widely available for emulation from the example of elites like Vance 52. Jews’ physical presence at this observance appeared to be limited to a large extent to their monument itself . Although the newspaper coverage of the festival claimed that the ceremony was “well attended,” it did not note the presence of any Jews there . Apparently “many” members of the Asheville UDC as well as the vaguer “representative” people from Asheville were present . Jews had acquired a concrete but only intermittently vocal presence in Vance ceremonies . In the 1920s in Asheville, then, those who invoked tolerance confirmed and made legible white Christians’ political and social influence . The Citizen’s editorials assured readers that Asheville Jews and their supposed “difference” did not threaten the city’s moral or social health . The newspaper attempted to translate the character of prominent Jews like Solomon Lipinsky into terms that rendered inconsequential his difference from the Christian white majority . The Citizen demonstrated this conditional inclusion in response to Jews’ own claims to representation in both civic and scared spaces, such as Pack Square and the Calvary Church courtyard . Jews sought to present and represent themselves as proud and deserving objects of tolerance in these spaces . In doing so, speakers like Wise formulated tolerance itself as a possession of those who embodied norms of religion and race . In the 1930s, Jews continued and expanded their efforts to make tolerance a civic value associated with both a national political culture as well as the city’s landscape . They undertook these efforts with the support of white Christian elites . These joint endeavors helped formulate a notion of tolerance less dependent on the privileged status accorded to Christian whiteness . First, white Christians’ and Jews’ invocations democratized and individualized tolerance . They framed it not as a trait of the powerful but instead as an act of will whose responsibility resided with the individual . Secondly, speakers universalized and naturalized differences between peoples . These shifts also reflected the priorities of organizations like the National Conference for Christians and Jews (NCCJ), which in the 1930s had emphasized tolerance more than equality in its public pronouncements and programs . The

52 . “Zeb Vance Is Honored at Old Calvary Church,” Asheville Citizen, May 12, 1930, p . 10; “Calvary Rector to Pay Tribute to Vance Today,” Asheville Citizen, May 11, 1930, p . 1 .

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organization’s leaders had been reluctant to address questions of segregation or economic inequality . They also preferred to focus on the country’s “Judeo-Christian heritage,” rather than questions of power and inequality .53 These changes in formulations of tolerance occurred through different public performances . First, likely motivated in part by the presence of the fascistic William Dudley Pelley in Asheville in the 1930s, beginning in 1934, local religious figures and civic elites participated in Brotherhood Day ceremonies affiliated with the NCCJ . A stronger focus on tolerance also transformed Vance commemorations during the 1930s . Jews became prominent participants and partners beginning in 1938 . At the same time, the observances honoring Vance during the 1930s and 1940s continued to articulate familiar themes of the Lost Cause, including the claims that Vance himself fought not for slavery but for his state; that in doing so, he represented the highest form of citizenship; and that as post–Reconstruction governor he brought about racial reconciliation . Vance’s legacy of tolerance was folded into these narratives . As visible manifestations of the tolerant natures of both Vance and those dedicated to his vindication, Jews helped buttress related Redeemer and Lost Cause mythologies of paternalism that justified the political and social repression of African Americans in the past and present . Asheville religious and civic leaders’ participation in Brotherhood Day ceremonies beginning in 1934 likely was shaped by the presence of Pelley, who moved to the city in the early 1930s . Pelley, a former screenwriter and novelist, printed a magazine in support of his anti–Semitic organization, the Silver Legion . Apparently due to the efforts of local Jews and Christians, Pelley was tried and found guilty of advertising stock in a fraudulent company in 1935 . He received a $1,000 fine as well as a suspended sentence for five years, contingent upon his “good behavior ”. 54 Political and cultural authorities not only sought to prosecute Pelley but also to publicly disassociate the city from him and his message . In doing so, civic leaders reformulated their ideas of tolerance . On the day of the city’s first observance of Brotherhood Day, the Asheville Citizen-Times repudiated Pelley in an angry editorial .55 The same editorial also appealed to citizens to practice tolerance, in part by making a pragmatic appeal that stressed the importance of tolerance for progress and prosperity, both in the nation and in the community . As an essential component of economic and social development, it is not surprising that the editorial defined tolerance as an act of individual will . The editorial emphasized that its possession

53 . Wall, Inventing the “American Way,” 85 . 54 . Leo Ribuffo, The Old Christian Right: The Protestant Far Right from the Great Depression to the Cold War (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1983), 71; Scott Beekman, William Dudley Pelley: A Life in Right-Wing Extremism and the Occult (Syracuse, N Y. :. Syracuse University Press, 2004), 107–113 . Pelley’s supporters were known as Silver Shirts . 55 . “Brotherhood Day,” Asheville Citizen-Times, April 29, 1934, p . 12 .

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Wanted poster for William Dudley Pelley for conviction of a felony and “UN-AMERICAN activities,” n .d ., State Archives of North Carolina, Raleigh .

was the product primarily of individual effort and as such, something unrelated to political power or social hierarchy . It was instead the mark and possession of a disciplined individual . It was not, the editorial asserted, an “instinctive virtue” but instead the “happy consequence of self-discipline ”. Intolerance was easier and demonstrated a failure of will and discipline . The editorial laid the primary responsibility for acting tolerantly at the feet of the individual . It was ostensibly something that could and should be aspired to by all 56.

56 . “Brotherhood Day,” Asheville Citizen-Times, April 29, 1934, p . 12 . Although the article obscured the relationship of tolerance to power, its reformulation of tolerance as the product of individual self-control

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Brotherhood Day speeches delivered by Rabbi Jacobson, Father Francis McCourt, and Rev . Robert F . Campbell in front of an estimated crowd of five hundred shared several characteristics that contributed to the shifting meaning of tolerance . In associating tolerance with American nationalism, their addresses invoked differences between American citizens while highlighting the common values essential to overcoming them . For instance, Robert Campbell, who, like Stephen Wise, equated justice with tolerance, guaranteed his audience that being tolerant would not threaten the “high standards” to which Americans were accustomed . Jacobson, for his part, urged his audience to recognize their collective spiritual agreement 57. Like Brotherhood Day, yearly Vance ceremonies became vehicles for incor- porating tolerance into American nationalism during the late 1930s and early 1940s . Beginning in the 1920s, Vance’s May 13 birthday was often, but not always, observed separately from Confederate Memorial Day commemorations . However, neither Vance’s tolerance nor Jews themselves had a place in Vance ceremonies until the late 1930s, after local Jewish and Christian elites worked together to prosecute and denounce Pelley, and after Brotherhood Day became a prominent yearly event . While Jews had previously laid wreaths to Vance, they had not been included in UDC ceremonies until the late 1930s . Possibly because of their increase in population during the 1930s, Jews were also becoming more involved in various Asheville civic organizations 58. The two rabbis who succeeded Moses Jacobson at Beth HaTephila, Alexander Kline in 1934 and Robert Jacobs in 1938, continued and extended Jacobson’s representation of the city’s Jews . For instance, Kline began a weekly radio address on WWNC, much like the city’s Christian clergymen, a tradition Jacobs continued . Furthermore, in a divided vote in 1940, the temple’s board of trustees gave Jacobs permission to accept the chairmanship of the public relations committee of the Community Chest charitable organization, despite its significant time commitment . Jacobs’s and

suggests that relationship’s continued relevance . The individual democratic subject and the self-control that individual was expected to exercise appeared open to all, but they were constructed in part through racial- ized and gendered differences . In particular, see Brown, Regulating Aversion, and Gail Bederman, Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880–1917 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995); Kevin K . Gaines, Uplifting the Race: Black Leadership, Politics, and Culture in the Twentieth Century (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996); and Grace Kyungwon Hong, The Ruptures of American Capital: Women of Color, Feminism, and the Culture of Immigrant Labor (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2006) . 57 . “Speakers Appeal for Religious Tolerance on Brotherhood Day,” Asheville Citizen, April 30, 1934, pp . 1–2; Seth Epstein, “The Arrival of a Provocateur: Responses to William Dudley Pelley in Asheville, 1930 to 1934,” Southern Jewish History 16 (2013): 111 . 58 . Lee Shai Weissbach, Jewish Life in Small-Town America: A History (New Haven, Conn :. Yale University Press, 2005), 338 . The information is in a table of “Triple-Digit Jewish Communities of the United States in 1927, with Reported Jewish Populations in Selected Years ”. From a population of 28,504 in 1920, Asheville reached 50,193 by 1930 . By 1940, however, that number had grown to only 51,310 . Asheville Jewry, on the

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Zebulon B . Vance Hundredth Birthday Anniversary Celebration at the State Capitol in Raleigh, May 13, 1930 . Pictured, left to right in front of the Vance statue: W . H . Richardson, Parks Matthewson, Mrs . Jon Daniels, W . A . Graham, W . D . Clark, W . Oliver Smith, F . D . Duncan . Albert Barden Photograph Collection, State Archives of North Carolina . others’ involvement in Vance ceremonies in the late 1930s and early 1940s was only one of several innovations in Jewish representation that occurred in the period .59 The monument itself also played a role in how Jews were represented in Vance ceremonies . It facilitated innovation by serving as a nexus between the Lost Cause tradition, discussions of tolerance in the 1930s and 1940s, and the preservation of Vance’s memory . Sociologist Emile Durkheim identified symbols such as the Vance monument as “totems” that were “not merely a convenient process for clarifying the sentiment the society has of itself: [they] also [served] to create this sentiment .”60 Jews’ roles in Vance ceremonies represented a local innovation and constituted a moment

other hand, went from 250 in 1918, to 700 in 1927, and then to 950 in 1937, which may have represented a high point . In 1950, there were an estimated 600 Jews in the city . 59 . Weissbach, Jewish Life in Small-Town America, 200; “Bible Lectures at Asheville Are Popular,” Southern Israelite (Atlanta, Ga ),. January 19, 1940, p . 3; “Activity Highlights of Asheville Temple,” Southern Israelite, August 1, 1941, p . 8 . 60 . Emile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life: A Study in Religious Sociology, 230–231, quoted in Bruno Latour, Reassembling the Social: An Introduction to Actor-Network-Theory (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 38 .

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“when new associations [were] being made” within the social landscape of the city .61 These new associations depended on the monument for stability . As the sociologist Bruno Latour has observed, nonhuman things serve as necessary supplements to humans’ social skills 62. The monument as a nonhuman object “render[ed] more durable the constantly shifting interactions” between those Jews and Christians who took an interest in shaping and maintaining Vance’s legacy, such as members of the local B’nai B’rith lodge and UDC chapter .63 Regular opportunities for Jews to appear in public as Jews reflected this greater durability, in part because the monument was tied to a specific date on the calendar . Jews’ more prominent and regularized participation began with an addition to the monument in May 1938 . One year earlier, D . Hiden Ramsey, general manager of the Citizen-Times after the two Asheville newspapers merged in 1930, spoke to the local B’nai B’rith members at their meeting in the Art Deco S&W Cafeteria downtown . Ramsey urged the B’nai B’rith lodge to again demonstrate its gratitude by erecting another “tribute” to Vance and his speech . Unlike the monument in the Calvary Church courtyard in nearby Fletcher, however, this one would be in the center of Asheville . He thus asked Jews to contribute to public space as citizens of Asheville and as proud objects of the tolerance shown by Vance and by Christian whites .64 They contributed a bronze tablet that more fully explained the monument’s significance . Previously, only Vance’s surname, carved into the monument itself, identified the structure . While Ramsey asked the B’nai B’rith lodge to demonstrate its gratitude, the process by which the tablet was erected limited its opportunities to do so . It was the UDC, as stewards over the space, who received permission from the city and county commissioners in December 1937 to erect “a suitable descriptive marker” on the western face of the obelisk .65 This side of the monument had previously been utilized for displays of state authority, potentially because it faced one of the busier intersections for foot, car, and streetcar traffic 66. The unveiling of the marker was the focus of the 1938 Vance ceremony . The tablet itself mentioned neither “The Scattered Nation” nor B’nai B’rith . Instead, it obliquely referenced the speech by including “Orator” among his other titles

61 . Latour, Reassembling the Social, 79 . 62 . Latour, Reassembling the Social, 66 . 63 . Latour, Reassembling the Social, 68 . 64 . “Asheville Lodge No . 714, B’nai B’rith: Vice-President’s Night,” Leo Finkelstein Scrapbook #3, Leo Fin- kelstein Papers, Special Collections, Belk Library, Appalachian State University, Boone, North Carolina; “Ramsey Speaks at B’nai B’rith Meeting Here,” Asheville Citizen, May 4, 1937 . 65 . “Marker for Vance Monument,” Minutes of the Proceedings of the Council, December 2, 1937, 205, Office of the City Clerk, Asheville, North Carolina . 66 . For example, the tablet itself was partially obscured by a German cannon captured by soldiers from Ashe- ville during the First World War . During the war itself, a large sign urging citizens to “Save Food” occupied the western side of the monument . See “Pack Square, save food sign, World War I, on Pack Square, showing square,” E . M . Ball Photographic Collection, UNC-Asheville Special Collections .

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and gave credit solely to the UDC for its placement . The ceremony, which was broadcast over the radio, also did not highlight Jews’ responsibility for the tablet . The president of one of the city’s two UDC chapters made the presentation speech . Two Daughters, “costumed in white,” had the honor of unveiling the tablet in front of “several scores” of spectators 67. Perhaps because the B’nai B’rith lodge’s role in erecting the tablet had been downplayed, Ramsey’s own newspaper repeatedly gave credit to the organization for its placement . A story in the Citizen-Times about the upcoming unveiling reported that “the gratitude and admiration of the Jewish people for Zeb Vance has been manifested by several generations of Jews ”. The tablet was the latest example of this gratitude . The newspaper story gave almost sole agency to the Jewish organization .68 As in later years, Jews’ roles in the ceremony were significant but circumscribed . Alvin Kartus, who had worked behind the scenes to build a case against Pelley, represented the B’nai B’rith lodge and delivered the eulogy . The organization was one of several to lay its own wreath at the monument . Morris Lipinsky, a son of Solomon Lipinsky, who in 1894 testified to Jews’ readiness to demonstrate their gratitude, placed one of the three wreaths at the base of the monument at the ceremony’s conclusion 69. The meaning of the revised commemoration was interpreted for a wider audience by the Citizen-Times . The Nazi regime provided a foil for the newspaper to make tolerance synonymous with American nationalism and purify it of the power imbalances that had characterized its previous invocations . An editorial the day after Vance’s birthday in 1939, titled, “A Tolerant Patriot,” noted that a variety of people had commemorated him . This group included “sons and daughters of the Confederacy, Gentiles and Jews ”. The editorial quoted from “The Scattered Nation” and critiqued without irony nations, such as Germany, that “institute racial programs and adopt intolerance as a cardinal principle ”. The piece thus subtly separated intolerance from “racial programs,” a labor that demanded continual attention in Asheville’s own segregated urban spaces like Pack Square . The editorial also commended Vance for bringing about the “reconciliation” of the races through his tolerance . Remembering Vance was, the editorial asserted, essential to preserving “American democracy ”. 70

67 . “Zebulon Vance Is Honored at Ceremony Here,” Asheville Citizen, May 14, 1938, p . 12 . 68 . “Bronze Tablet Will Be Unveiled Friday on Vance Monument,” Asheville Citizen-Times, May 8, 1938, p . 5 . 69 . “Zebulon Vance Is Honored at Ceremony Here,” Asheville Citizen, May 14, 1938, p . 12 . Kartus at the time was the vice-president of B’nai B’rith’s Fifth Grand District Lodge, which covered the southeastern United States . He would be elected president of that organization the next year . See Sol Marshall, “Strength in Unity: New Leader Seeks Increased Unity among North Carolina Communities,” Southern Israelite, April 28, 1939, p . 35 . 70 . “A Tolerant Patriot,” Asheville Citizen-Times, May 14, 1939, p . 12 .

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These trends in reformulations of tolerance were reinforced by the possibility and reality of world war . The Reform Rabbi Robert Jacobs was the main speaker at the 1941 ceremony . He invoked Vance as a “source of inspiration” for citizens facing the “crisis” of possible war 71. After the United States declared war on Germany and Japan, participants invoked Vance’s legacy even more urgently . The featured speaker at the 1942 service, Judge Philip Cocke, referred to Vance “as a man who embodied patriotic duty and loyalty ”. 72 Cocke also quoted from “The Scattered Nation” and recalled that Reform rabbis paid tribute to Vance in 1926 73. The B’nai B’rith president, Leon Feldman, laid a wreath and introduced the rabbi of the Orthodox congregation, Bikur Cholim, David Wachtfogel, who spoke prior to the main address . The Orthodox rabbi imagined Vance as one who stood for the “principles and ideas for which we are fighting today .” Those principles included “justice, truth, liberty and freedom for all ”. Wachtfogel also noted Jews’ love for Vance and, like Cocke, pointed out earlier examples of Jews’ gratitude, such as the gate around the monument .74 In an editorial on the day of the next year’s observance, the Citizen-Times again noted Jews’ “undying gratitude” for Vance’s speech, which it termed a “ringing espousal of the Jewish cause and an unrelenting denunciation of anti-Semitism ”. The editorial also drew contemporary parallels, noting that the speaker, former state governor Clyde Hoey, like Vance, was a determined opponent of “race prejudice and intolerance” and an untiring advocate of “true democracy ”. The editorial optimistically predicted that the square would be “packed to capacity” for the event 75. That year’s ceremony in fact attracted regional attention . A 1943 notice in the Atlanta-based Southern Israelite, recognizing the ceremony’s usefulness in acknowledging Jews’ value to the city, specifically urged “all businessmen” to attend that year’s upcoming observance 76. At the commemoration, Rabbi Jacobs of Beth HaTephila suggested Vance was one of the threads connecting Jews to the American nation . The former governor and senator was “not only a part of the heritage of America but also [was] a part of” Jewish heritage 77. Jews could support

71 . “Zebulon Vance Honored in Memorial Services,” Asheville Citizen, May 14, 1941, p . 16 . See also Asheville Times, May 13, 1941 . 72 . “Vance Is Eulogized at Memorial Service Here,” Asheville Citizen, May 14, 1942, p . 18 . 73 . Philip Cocke, “Judge Philip Cocke’s Address,” May 13, 1942, Philip Charles Cocke Speeches #3248-z, Southern Historical Collection, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill . 74 . “Vance Is Eulogized at Memorial Service Here,” Asheville Citizen, May 14, 1942, p . 18 . 75 . “To Honor Vance,” Asheville Citizen, May 13, 1943, p . 4 . 76 . “Southern News,” Southern Israelite, May 7, 1943, p . 2; According to a 1937 Southern Israelite article, “A cen- sus prepared by Mrs . J . L . Emanuel of Raleigh shows 4,637 Jews living in 109 North Carolina communities; this is the first all-inclusive census ever undertaken in the state and is believed to be about 95 per cent com- plete . Asheville was first on the list, with Charlotte second .” See “North Carolina Women Issue Yearbook of Activities,” Southern Israelite, June 25, 1937, p . 6 . 77 . “Hoey Praises Zeb Vance as ‘Great Citizen,’ ” Asheville Citizen, May 14, 1943, p . 5 .

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their American and Jewish identities, then, by promoting this shared heritage . The prominent demonstrations and dramatizations allowed white Christians and Jews to reframe tolerance as a democratic, patriotic, and individual responsibility whose possession was a mark of self-discipline . This shift, shaped by representatives of middle-class Christian whites—like the Asheville Citizen, Robert Campbell, and the UDC—reframed tolerance in a way that left little room for the recognition of political power and social privilege . In the next decade, representative Jews appeared not only as objects but also agents of a tolerance that circulated more widely through Asheville’s civic institutions and urban spaces . While the UDC and B’nai B’rith continued to cooperate in Vance ceremonies, tolerance also became the focus of an expanded Brotherhood Week that was observed during the third week of February and practiced in the city’s local “Town Meetings of the Air .” Brotherhood Week and Town Meeting of the Air broadcasts were religious and ideological exercises meant to strengthen American society in the Cold War . Brotherhood Week differentiated the United States from the atheistic Soviet Union, as the Judeo-Christian heritage it celebrated was the perceived “moral backbone” of the United States and the free world .78 In the 1930s, radio programs such as America’s Town Meeting of the Air, broadcast from New York and founded by North Carolina native and former Asheville resident George Denny, sought to demonstrate the continued viability of democracy in an age of mass media by showcasing the American public’s ability to rationally consider different points of view . Social psychologists considered radio to be “the most rational of mass media,” allowing listeners to maintain their individuality rather than surrender to a crowd’s mentality .79 After the war, similar discussions became a way to highlight the differences between free societies such as the United States and totalitarian societies such as the Soviet Union . The process of discussion and debate was essential for a democracy to function, although debate was to be kept within limits . For example, the Common Council for American Unity, an organization whose support for tolerance was balanced by a desire to nurture American unity, sponsored postwar discussion groups, which it identified as an example of the democratic practice of civic debate 80. An article in the Sunday Asheville Citizen-Times announcing the city- wide organization of town meetings traced the tradition back to New England and suggested that it helped to nourish “America’s love of freedom,” a value central to

78 . Kevin M . Schultz, Tri-Faith America: How Catholics and Jews Held Postwar America to Its Protestant Promise (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 73 . 79 . Wolfgang Schivelbusch, Three New Deals: Reflections on Roosevelt’s America, Mussolini’s Italy, and Hitler’s Germany, 1933–1939 (New York: Metropolitan Books, 2006), 65 . 80 . Wall, Inventing the “American Way,” 268 .

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American identity in the Cold War 81. The first two topics the city’s town meeting addressed were centered on Cold War anxieties: “In Which Area Lies the Greatest Threat to the Security of the United States—Europe or Asia?” and “Is Organized Religion the Answer to Communism?” The first town meeting addressed the former topic . Appropriate for a time when civic debate and discussion were tempered by the desire for unity, the Citizen reported the participants’ unanimous belief “that Russia was the evil genius which must be brought under control if civilization is to survive ”. 82 Jews played important roles in both Brotherhood Week and town meetings . These institutions in their own distinct ways further clouded the relationship of tolerance to inequality . The most prominent local Jewish spokesman for tolerance was Sidney Unger, since 1946 the rabbi of the Reform congregation . Unger often universalized and naturalized the differences between peoples while performing tolerance work . Because of these efforts, Unger contributed to the apparent political innocence of tolerance . In virtual spaces created by radio broadcasts and the physical space of the Vanderbilt Hotel ballroom, he acted as the most prominent representative of the Jewish community and simultaneously as an agent of tolerance . As with Rabbis Jacobson and Jacobs, Unger was known for his good relations with non-Jews . Building on Jacobs’s efforts, Unger’s broadcast explained Judaism to Christians . The radio station WWNC agreed to broadcast the show on Saturday to accommodate Jews’ Sabbath, much as Christian clergymen broadcast their programs on Sundays . Unger also continued his predecessor’s participation in Vance ceremonies .83 Unger’s efforts to universalize and naturalize difference went hand in hand, as he used “nature” as a model for diversity . Speaking in the autumn of 1949 on his radio program, for instance, Unger called upon humanity to recognize and emulate the model of diversity provided by nature: “The residents of the land of the sky could learn a thing or two from nature,” he suggested . The city’s surrounding mountains and trees, Unger held, spoke to “Catholic Protestant and Jew—to white and colored ”. They called on the city’s residents to “take note of the many and varied colors ”. More directly, they asked the residents to “emulate [them] and make the colors in human life and association harmonize” with the surrounding beauty 84. One of Unger’s favorite natural occurrences to turn into a metaphor for human difference was the rainbow .

81 . Hubert A . Elliot, “Jewish Young People Plan Community ‘Town Meeting,’ ” Asheville Citizen-Times, August 20, 1950, p . 5 . 82 . Fred Tounsley, “Town Meeting Speakers Agree about Red Threat,” Asheville Citizen, January 26, 1951, pp . 9, 15 . 83 . Helen Pozner, interview by David Schulman, March 10, 1994, transcript, Jewish Heritage in Western North Carolina Oral History Collection; Sidney Unger to Mr . Alexander F . Miller, March 15, 1951, Beth HaTephila Congregation Collection (hereinafter CBHT Collection), both in UNC-Asheville Special Collections . 84 . Sidney Unger, “Conclusion means beginning for the Jew—Oct . 15, 1949,” Sidney E . Unger Papers (here- inafter Unger Papers), American Jewish Archives .

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Rabbi Sidney Unger with Mrs . Evelyn Unger, Beth HaTephila Congregation, 1946–1963, UNC-Asheville Special Collections .

In May of 1949, at the end of his series of broadcasts, he compared humanity to this natural phenomenon, noting that its colors “make for beauty and loveliness only when they blend their hues together and become a whole—a completeness ”. 85 Unger thereby sought to nurture greater respect for difference by naturalizing and universalizing it . In doing so he conflated racial and religious tolerance and facilitated the ostensible political innocence of tolerance for both . Unger asserted that the practice of “brotherhood” depended on both individual effort and the mutual possession of goodwill . This interpretation illustrated the universalization of difference and democratization of tolerance . Unger framed the possession of the latter as the product of an act of determination and self-making: only if “we are strong enough to think for ourselves” would we be able to recognize

85 . Unger, “Closing Broadcast,” May 28, 1949, Unger Papers . Unger repeatedly used the rainbow metaphor . In another instance, he asserted that the rainbow blended all “together in Divine manipulation—making for warmth and beauty and hope .” See Unger, “The Challenge Before Us,” January 1947, Unger Papers .

VOLUME XCVI • NUMBER 3• JULY 2019 332 Seth Epstein th HaTephila Congregation,thHaTephila UNC-Asheville Special , Be . d . . RabbiUnger in(center, front microphone)of deliveringa radio broadcastatAsheville’s Jewish Community Center, n Collections

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and transcend the influences of our own associations and ties . If his audience members were not “strong enough” as individuals, then they would, he predicted, “fall into a groove of associations and habits and thought and action ”. The result of this personal failure would be “misunderstanding” and “discrimination,” rather than what he termed “just and fair, give and take living ”. 86 Additionally, Unger suggested that the constraints against and challenges of brotherhood were therefore universal . He lamented on the air that the week allotted to Brotherhood Week was insufficient for people to break from that groove . If people were deeply influenced by their lives and by “every agency with which we come in contact,” then the task would be monumental . Individuals’ perceptions were shaped by “the group of which we are a member,” as well as our other numerous and inextricable associations, which “colors our minds and actions ”. 87 Other Brotherhood Week advocates interpreted tolerance as Unger did . For instance, during 1954’s Brotherhood Week, Oveta Culp Hobby, the first secretary of the U .S . Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, contributed a guest editorial titled, “A Rule for Brotherhood,” which appeared in the Asheville Citizen and other newspapers around the country . The very individualization desired by advocates of brotherhood had the effect of standardizing difference by insisting that everyone be perceived “as an individual,” rather than “as a Catholic, a Protestant or a Jew . Not as a Negro, Anglo-Saxon or Asiatic .” Advocates of tolerance like Hobby also suggested that the differences were alike or equivalent . Furthermore, Hobby held that brotherhood was “an accomplishment of soul- searching, prayer and perseverance,” an individual accomplishment distinct from the political world .88 This treatment of tolerance and difference transcended the week dedicated to Brotherhood . For instance, a September 1951 column by Gertrude Ramsey, the daughter of the newspaper’s general manager, opened with the statement that “[w]e are all of us members of a minority group ”. In the editorial, titled, “Many Minority Groups Show Need of Tolerance,” Ramsey suggested all identifications were equal and equally capable of being used to define a minority . For instance, being a Rotarian would qualify one for minority status, as would being a Baptist . No matter one’s descent, “there are so many more people who came from somewhere else or other places, that you are part of a minority national group .” Because of this status, “we owe each other tolerance ”. 89 Ramsey portrayed undifferentiated difference as a unifying, common characteristic of humanity . Commentators’ naturalistic descriptions of

86 . Sidney Unger, “At the Conclusion of Brotherhood Week Feb . 25th, 1950,” Unger Papers . 87 . Sidney Unger, “At the Conclusion of Brotherhood Week Feb . 25th, 1950,” Unger Papers . 88 . Oveta Culp Hobby, “A Rule for Brotherhood,” Asheville Citizen, February 24, 1954, p . 18 . 89 . Gertrude Ramsey, “Many Minority Groups Show Need of Tolerance,” Asheville Citizen-Times, September 23, 1951, p . 17 .

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harmony and equivalent differences could elide controversial questions . At times, however, the Citizen-Times provided a platform for commentators who explicitly questioned the content of brotherhood and tolerance as it related to contemporary segregationist policies . At the conclusion of 1953’s Brotherhood Week, the Sunday edition of the Citizen-Times printed two letters, each discussing African American men being shot by city policemen . One called for criminal charges to be brought against the policeman responsible for one shooting .90 The other letter recounted how an African American man “accidentally shot” by a policeman was refused treatment at the city’s Memorial Mission Hospital and had to be transported from there to Victoria Hospital . Each letter explicitly questioned the meaning and relevance of Brotherhood Week, considering Mission Hospital’s segregationist policies . One claimed the week’s festivities amounted only to a “beautiful gesture ”. The author suggested that celebrants were less than sincere, stating, “I am greatly confused as to the real meaning of ‘brotherhood’ as interpreted by our white American ‘brother .’ ”91 Unger and other brotherhood advocates, such as Frank Ratzell, minister of the city’s First Congregational Church since 1952, recognized that a week was not enough to develop brotherhood as a practice . Unger sought to expand and institutionalize chances for citizens to practice tolerance and discuss vital issues . In 1950, he used his weekly broadcast to invite the public to town meeting forums, in which experts presented contrasting views on contemporary political and social issues to a democratic and engaged public . The format included speeches by presenters as well as questions and comments from the audience . Unger had moderated smaller- scale town hall discussions since their 1947 beginning at the Jewish Community Center under the sponsorship of the Jewish Youth League . Town meetings were not constructed through the binary relationship of agents and objects of tolerance apparent earlier in the century, reflected in Vance ceremonies . The rabbi’s leading role in town meetings, as well as their original sponsorship and location, signaled this shift 92. Nonetheless, city elites used town meetings not only to foster discussion but also to manage it . As with other exercises during the early Cold War period, civic leaders’ desire to promote debate was likely balanced by a “fear of social unrest or upheaval ”. 93 Prior to the advent of citywide town meetings in 1951, Unger and others established a screening committee whose purpose was to “select themes for discussion .”94 The board of trustees numbered “19 civic, religious, educational and

90 . Joyce Russell, “The Cooper Case,” Asheville Citizen-Times, March 1, 1953, p . 16 . 91 . Cassie Evans, “First Aid Problem,” Asheville Citizen-Times, March 1, 1953, p . 16 . 92 . In a letter to the president of the Junior Chamber of Commerce, Unger stated that he had moderated these discussions for the past four years . Sidney Unger to William Duckworth, July 11, 1950, CBHT Collection . 93 . Wall, Inventing the “American Way,” 165 . 94 . “Unger Named Moderator for Town Meeting,” Asheville Citizen, October 18, 1950, p . 8 .

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Members of Beth HaTephila Congregation at Asheville’s Jewish Community Center, n .d ., Beth HaTephila Congre- gation, UNC-Asheville Special Collections . business leaders of” the city and county .95 These included representatives from local chapters of the Parent Teachers Association (PTA), the League of Women Voters, Community Chest, the Chamber of Commerce, the American Federation of Labor– affiliated Central Labor Union, and others . Members of these organizations asked Unger to continue in his role as moderator of the expanded town meetings . The board would also be responsible for choosing “a suitable meeting place to serve the best interests of all the people .”96 Writing to the director of the national “Town Meeting of the Air” broadcast, George Denny, Unger hoped that the meeting would be an “all-inclusive activity in which as many Units of the community as possible are a part ”. The rabbi further hoped the meeting could function as a way for these units “to air some of their problems ”. Possibly motivated by this desire, he and other organizers encouraged

95 . “Unger Named Moderator for Town Meeting,” Asheville Citizen, October 18, 1950, p . 8 . 96 . Hubert A . Elliot, “Jewish Young People Plan Community ‘Town Meeting,’ ” Asheville Citizen-Times, August 20, 1950, p . 5 .

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direct involvement . At the beginning of the citywide meetings in 1951, he refused a local radio station’s offer to broadcast the meetings in order to encourage greater participation, which identified the chosen place, the ballroom of downtown’s George Vanderbilt Hotel, as a privileged space of citizenship 97. Attendees at the meetings could provide feedback and suggest possible future topics, although a committee composed of representatives from the sponsoring organizations selected which topics would receive a public airing 98. These meetings celebrated the individual’s capacity and responsibility to weigh different, opposing opinions and exercise tolerant citizenship . Town meetings therefore represented the expression and expectation of tolerant citizenship dependent on what social theory scholar Wendy Brown has termed the idea of the “moral autonomy of the individual ”. The public discussions meant to nurture and showcase this tolerance, however, simultaneously rested upon racial, spatial, and ideological exclusions 99. While Unger was known in later years as a supporter of racial integration, none of the groups whose support he cultivated represented African Americans in other than a marginal capacity . African Americans’ limited access to civic space, symbolized by the Vance monument on Pack Square, was in fact furthered in the more privatized spaces like the ballroom at the Vanderbilt . African Americans were barred from attending these exercises in American citizenship . Integrated audiences were nonexistent in Asheville at that time . In 1948, several African Americans, including future leader of the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) Floyd McKissick, appeared before the Asheville City Council to ask that the body permit an integrated audience at the Asheville City Auditorium for a performance by Paul Robeson, who refused to perform otherwise . Although a delegation representing the local chapter of the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO) repeated the request, the council refused .100 Even after town meetings began to be held at the Vanderbilt Hotel ballroom, the space was not available for integrated use . When Eleanor Roosevelt spoke in the city in 1956, she insisted on such an audience . One YWCA member recalled in an interview in 1992 that she spoke at the YWCA because it was the one place at the time “where you could get black and white people together ”. Although the Vanderbilt ballroom accommodated an

97 . Sidney Unger to Don Shoemaker, October 18, 1950, CBHT Collection. Unger was also elected president of the organization before the second season of meetings began in October 1951 . See “Unger Elected as President of Town Hall,” Asheville Citizen, September 21, 1951, p . 32 . 98 . Sidney Unger to George Denny, August 31, 1950; Unger to Mr . Melia, January 23, 1951, both in CBHT Collection. The decision regarding broadcast of the meetings was made by Town Meeting of the Air’s Board of Trustees . 99 . Brown, Regulating Aversion, 7 . 100 . “Auditorium—Use of by Paul Robeson,” Minutes of the Proceedings of the Council, June 3, 1948, p . 436, Office of the City Clerk, Asheville; “Hardy Scott—Delegation—Use of Auditorium,” Minutes of the Proceedings of the Council, June 17, 1948, p . 440, Office of the City Clerk, Asheville .

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audience of three hundred for the first town hall meeting, it did not function as an interracial space 101. That it did not may have made Rabbi Unger’s task easier . He received multiple compliments for his role as moderator, including a letter from an admirer in nearby Weaverville, who commended him on his diplomacy . The writer approved of previous subjects and expressed his confidence that Unger would keep the discussion of the upcoming subject of “Decency” “within proper limits ”. 102 Town meeting topics were also closely managed, and those that might directly interrogate inequality were avoided . Unger regularly solicited possible topics from the meeting participants . Some suggestions included “Are we raising another lost generation?”; “Is Asheville progressive?”; and “Does political freedom exist in N .C .?” Two potential topics more explicitly questioned the racial organization of public schooling: “Is segregation in P S. . advisable?” and “Should S in p s. . be abolished?” Finally, the question “Is the Solid South Breaking Up?” touched on the place of race in state, regional, and national politics . It therefore referenced similar issues, albeit more indirectly . Only the last query became the subject of a town meeting discussion, on June 28, 1951 . There is no coverage of a meeting, either earlier or later, that addressed the other questions, which could more directly interrogate the culture and relationships of white supremacy 103. The June 28 discussion, devoted to the topic “Is the Solid South Breaking Up?,” featured middle-class whites disagreeing over the region’s basis and future . The participants’ speeches nonetheless illustrate how racial, spatial, and ideological exclusions reinforced one another . Practices of civic tolerance, such as town meetings, both depended on and obscured whites’ political power and social privilege . This connection emerged in part because of the prior changes to notions of tolerance and American citizenship that had emerged in the city over the previous decades . The speakers invited to participate in contemplating the breakup of the Solid South largely overlooked the exclusion that allowed them to do so . Only one speaker did

101 . “Transcript—February 24, 1992: A Conversation with Llewelyn Perry, Sally Bridenstine, Julia Ray, Mar- jorie Lockwood, and Una May Lindberg”; “YWCA of Asheville Historical Timeline by Decade,” both in Asheville YWCA Archive, UNC-Asheville Special Collections; Asheville Citizen, January 26, 1951 . The crowd might have been even larger had inclement winter weather not coincided with the event . The Vanderbilt apparently did not allow African Americans who were delegates to conventions held at the hotel to stay there until 1961, when the hotel changed this policy under duress . See Alan Draper, “Do the Right Thing: The Desegregation of Union Conventions in the South,” Labor History 33, no . 3 (July 1992): 350 . 102 . Ernest Munster to Sidney Unger, May 3, 1951; Flora B . Cotterill to Sidney Unger, n d. ,. both in CBHT Collection . 103 . Sidney Unger, “Notes,” n d. ,. CBHT Collection . At least one participant in the town hall hoped the meetings would address the subject of segregation . On the form for suggesting both possible topics and pos- sible speakers, Mrs . H . L . Reed suggested the topic of “Segregation in Schools SC vs . NY solution .” See Mrs . H . L . Reed, “Town Hall of Asheville and Buncombe County,” in CBHT Collection .

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not forecast the disintegration of the Solid South, the former state superior court judge and future U S. . Democratic congressman George Shuford . Shuford did not see the Solid South as a barrier to progress . He argued that the Solid South was unified not in conservatism but in some form of liberalism . Shuford believed that “progressive Southern thinking” would help avert a breakup of the Democratic Solid South . He marginalized the Dixiecrat defection during the 1948 presidential election and claimed that this recent controversy had overshadowed the true strength of “Southern liberalism .”104 Of the three speakers that evening who believed that southern political unity would dissolve, two suggested that segregation itself might survive this dissolution . Walter McFall contended that segregation would ultimately not bar African Americans’ efforts to improve their lives . He argued that segregation was “no longer a problem because minorities have opportunity, initiative, and money in the bank ”. McFall, a local dentist, thus subtly suggested that segregation was a previous “problem” and barrier to progress, at least partly because of African Americans’ own supposed shortcomings in these areas . He argued that the South’s solidity was breaking up partly because of “increased educational opportunities” for both races 105. Agreeing with McFall that the Solid South would dissolve was Richard Weaver, a professor of English at the University of Chicago . Weaver argued that this dissolution would occur because the region and the rest of the nation were now more closely aligned in their industrial development and their views on race . The region’s views and racial practices, he suggested, would survive after this dissolution . He noted that the South’s “stand on the racial issue” had been exported to northern and western metropolitan areas, where African Americans had migrated . Weaver cited riots in Detroit, Michigan, during World War II as evidence that the South would not bear the “racial ‘cross’ alone” any longer 106. Perhaps more than other speakers, the fourth speaker’s vision of the rise and decline of the Solid South illustrated why it was important for whites to conduct the discussion within segregated spaces . The minister of a local Methodist church, Rev . L . A . Harper, was the only presenter to explicitly identify white supremacy as fundamental to both the Solid South and to segregation . Harper defined southern “solidarity” both geographically and ideologically . He located its heart in the “relatively small geographical area” of the Black Belt, where African Americans constituted the majority . Its ideological core was whites’ “conviction that one-fourth of our citizens shall not be first class citizens .”

104 . “ ‘Solid South’ Breaking Up, Town Meeting Speakers Say,” Asheville Citizen, June 29, 1951, p . 24 . 105 . “ ‘Solid South’ Breaking Up, Town Meeting Speakers Say,” Asheville Citizen, June 29, 1951, p . 17 . 106 . “ ‘Solid South’ Breaking Up, Town Meeting Speakers Say,” Asheville Citizen, June 29, 1951, p . 24 .

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Harper further argued that African Americans’ unobstructed exercise of their political rights would dissolve the Solid South, which he described as primarily a legal and political entity that could be transformed through retracing the political and legal steps that allowed it to persist . The Solid South, he maintained, would be broken up by “gradual legal victories over segregation,” including a Supreme Court decision in 1946 invalidating segregation on interstate buses . Harper also pointed to the “beginning of the end” of segregation in universities and colleges and the end of the white primary as necessary steps in this gradual but salutary fragmentation 107. By the 1950s, then, Jews in Asheville engaged in civic activities that highlighted the relationship of tolerance to American nationhood and democracy, including continued Vance ceremonies, Brotherhood Week, and town meetings . Pack Square played a central role in these invocations of tolerance, ironically implicating this value in white supremacist attitudes . It was here that the UDC and others, in annually honoring Zebulon Vance and the Lost Cause, had defended white supremacy . In Vance commemorations beginning in the 1920s, Jews appeared as proud Americans and as public objects of tolerance . At Pack Square they sought, at times at the behest of Christian elites, to express their appreciation to Vance . Observances and practices that took shape in the 1930s and 1940s not only included Jews in prominent roles from their inception, but also reinterpreted the meaning of tolerance . Brotherhood Day, for instance, worked to incorporate tolerance as a personal charge and mark of self-mastery into notions of American nationalism . In addition, Rabbi Unger, in his desire to educate listeners of his radio program, universalized and naturalized difference between peoples, which reinforced its characterization as a personal and democratic responsibility emptied of privilege . The greater circulation of tolerance in segregated spaces like the Vanderbilt Hotel ballroom also contributed to its simultaneous expression and disavowal of racial power . Members of the UDC and B’nai B’rith likely would have welcomed African Americans as silent spectators during Vance ceremonies on the square; the former governor had, after all, supposedly effected the reconciliation of the races . Whites could and did restrict African Americans’ access to the ballroom to a greater extent than they could in Pack Square, in part because of the former’s status as a private and commercial space . African Americans’ exclusion, in this case, was necessary for the fiction of democratic tolerance to continue . Had African Americans participated in town meetings, the effort needed to maintain the city’s racialized democracy likely would have overwhelmed that fiction .

107 . “ ‘Solid South’ Breaking Up, Town Meeting Speakers Say,” Asheville Citizen, June 29, 1951, p . 17 .

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Dr. Epstein is a visiting researcher at Uppsala Religion and Society Research Centre at Uppsala University in Uppsala, Sweden. The author thanks the anonymous reviewers and the editor for their helpful insights and generous suggestions. Research support was provided by the University of Minnesota Jewish Studies Research Center.

THE NORTH CAROLINA HISTORICAL REVIEW Book Reviews

North Carolina’s Revolutionary Founders. Edited by Jeff Broadwater and Troy L . Kickler . (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019 . Introduction, illustration, notes, afterword, index . Pp . 312 . $29 .95, paper .)

This edited volume examines some of the main players in North Carolina in the Revolutionary and early republic eras, arguing properly that in the eighteenth century, power and politics were local . Indeed, as the short biographies reveal, the biggest question after the defeat of the British was whether power should remain at the state level or, as the Federalists desired, pass to the national government . With little on the Regulation or on the most important of democratic activists, Herman Husband, however, the general thrust remains on the political philosophies and service of planter politicians, rather than truly revolutionary figures . The book takes the form of well-researched and well-written biographical sketches of both individuals and groups, and opens with the Edenton Tea Party women, whose petition garnered international attention . The Catawba contribution to the defeat of the British is appropriately illuminated . Kyle Scott’s chapter on Willie Jones holds the most use for undergraduate classes, explaining clearly the stance of the Antifederalists and the debt the nation owes them for the Bill of Rights . The tough issue—that states’ rights do guarantee better democracy in theory, but not when the state’s practice is to disenfranchise huge sections of the population, as North Carolina did until 1965—is not articulated, however . Rather awkwardly, the volume shoehorns in a portrait of a free black teacher . While many in North Carolina pull down statues honoring planters, the editors believe that elites should be remembered, and most of this book is dedicated to men whose thinking could scarcely be described as “revolutionary ”. Undoubtedly they wielded more power . Individual authors do note whether their subjects owned people . Jeff Broadwater allows us to see that North Carolina’s signers of the Declaration of Independence were not leaders of the Revolution, but forced founders, in Woody Holton’s term . He acknowledges that William Hooper was much less of an egalitarian than most citizens of his state were . And Michael Toomey points out that John Sevier’s allegiance to North Carolina or the United States is highly doubtful; Sevier was willing to serve Spain, if that enhanced his landholdings . Did James Iredell or Richard Spaight really seek more than the greater good of North Carolinians of their own class, race, and gender? These representatives to the Constitutional Convention defended the maintenance of their gentry status against equality . They also ensured the passage of the Three-Fifths Compromise, thus damning generations of black North Carolinians and hundreds of thousands who would die in the Civil War .

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Such men fill the pages . The more democratic people of North Carolina refused to ratify the constitution until the Bill of Rights amendments were underway . Instead of according space to Hooper and five Federalists who opposed equality, the volume could have been balanced by portraits of true revolutionaries, like Husband or Wilmington’s Sons of Liberty, or the Mecklenburg County representatives instructed by their constituents in 1776 to fight for equality, “that you shall endeavor to establish a free government under the authority of the people of the State of North Carolina and that the Government be a simple Democracy or as near it as possible . That in fixing the fundamental principles of Government you shall oppose everything that leans to aristocracy or power in the hands of the rich and chief men exercised to the oppression of the poor ”. Instead we read about those “rich and chief men ”. Nonetheless, the book is a valuable reminder that the United States was neither inevitable nor the work of a few Virginians . Noeleen McIlvenna Wright State University

Dromgoole, Twice-Murdered: Unraveling a Southern Legend of Duels, Disappearance, Seminole Wars, Secret Societies, Mystery, Castles, and Flagler’s Millions. By E . T . Malone Jr . (Warrenton, N .C .: Literary Lantern Press, 2017 . Introduction, acknowledgments, illustrations, afterword, epilogue, notes, bibliography, index . Pp . xii, 276 . $24 .95, paper, plus tax and shipping .)

The legend is one handed down through generations of students at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (UNC) . Peter Dromgoole, a student at UNC in the nineteenth century, met his fate in a duel with a fellow student at Piney Prospect, a wooded promontory facing east off the road to Raleigh, now within yards of Chapel Hill’s Gimghoul Castle . The young men dueled either because of affections for the same young woman or because Dromgoole insulted the woman and was challenged by her protector . In many tellings there is a rock on which Dromgoole is said to have fallen and left a bloody stain . This simple plot has formed the base for short stories, ghost tales, and magazine articles for more than 150 years . But did the duel really occur? And, if it did not, what did happen to Dromgoole, who was, in fact, a student at UNC—albeit briefly—in the winter and spring of 1833? These are the questions that E . T . Malone Jr . addresses in his latest work . And the answers he provides unravel the legend and add new detail to the story of Peter Dromgooole . Within the first pages of Dromgoole, Twice-Murdered, Malone establishes that the book is not meant to be a scholarly work and that he is not a professionally trained historian . The book, he says, is a popular history “pulling together multiple threads of obscure lore from many sources to provide a broad overview of a beloved Tar Heel legend” (p . x) . The sources to which Malone turns are a few letters, newspaper and magazine articles, military records, and diaries of Dromgoole’s contemporaries .

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There is a dearth of biographical information about Peter Dromgoole . And for that reason, Malone suggests, creative minds have run free . He notes that five narratives, published between 1877 and 1918, form the core of the Dromgoole legend . And, he writes, “there is hardly anything written thereafter that is not derived from a combination of the elements contained in them” (p . 123) . Malone devotes about a third of the book to sharing those narratives, which include a poem in African American dialect, a short story, a magazine article, a newspaper story, and a short piece in the UNC student yearbook . He offers contextual information for each narrative and notes the similarities and dissimilarities between each . The authors of three of the narratives are unknown, but Malone offers plausible theories as to who they might be and the influence their backgrounds might have had on their tellings of the Dromgoole story . Although the facts of Dromgoole’s life are, indeed, scant, Malone is a skillful researcher and establishes a few undisputable points . He backs them with plenty of footnotes . Dromgoole, a native of Brunswick County, Virginia, arrived in Chapel Hill in January 1833 to sit for an entrance exam . He failed the exam and was denied entry, but he remained in Chapel Hill to study under a UNC professor, in hopes of passing the exam when it was offered again in June . In April 1833, Dromgoole wrote his family two letters . In one he tells them that he plans to leave the university, break ties with his family, and set sail for Europe . In the other, he suggests that he will head west, contact his family in several months, and then return home . The reason for Dromgoole’s departure is not clear . But Malone posits that the young man was likely engaging in college hijinks and sensed his father’s displeasure with his poor academic performance and his misbehavior . Parts of Dromgoole, Twice-Murdered read like a travelogue, as Malone takes the reader along on research trips to archives, old homes, and other locations tied to Dromgoole . In these sections, the narrative style switches to first person, and Malone becomes a character in a quest . Malone’s writing style is rich with detail, which proves helpful for a reader unfamiliar with the history of the state and university . But at times the detail is too much and breaks the narrative flow . For instance, a mention of Albert Coates, the founder of UNC’s Institute of Government and a longtime Chapel Hillian, leads to a story about Coates’s long-windedness as demonstrated by a speech he once gave at the North Carolina Press Association awards banquet, an event attended by Malone (p . 8) . Other tangents seem more appropriate . Malone devotes significant space to the history of the Order of the Gimghoul, a secret society at UNC and one that many associate with the Dromgoole legend and a castle at Piney Prospect . Malone suggests there is good reason for making such an association . With the last two chapters, Malone makes clear the reasons for the book’s title and adds to the historical record . Spoiler alert: if you’d like to continue believing that Dromgoole died in a duel or that his death remains a mystery, then read no further . But you should know that the true fate of Peter Dromgoole is an equally exciting story .

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Taking a lead from a letter written to Dromgoole’s father, Malone skillfully winds his way through newspaper accounts and army records to conclude that Dromgoole was indeed murdered, but not on Piney Prospect nor in a duel . Instead, Dromgoole, having adopted the name of his college roommate John Williams and risen to the rank of sergeant in the U S. . Army, was shot by a drunken enlisted man under his command at Fort Marion, near Saint Augustine, Florida, in April 1836 . He was the victim not of a jealous lover, but rather of an army private who resented being disciplined by a sergeant who was fourteen years his junior . The solving of the mystery of Peter Dromgoole is well worth the read . As Malone suggests, Dromgoole’s death “represents only a small footnote in the history of our nation’s complicated expansion .” But the mystery surrounding his death has achieved a larger-than-life existence, and has sparked the minds of poets, novelists, and journalists . Thanks to Malone, Dromgoole “no longer lies unknown and un-mourned in his grave, he can rest in peace” (p . 203) . Indeed . John Blythe University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

The Last Battleground: The Civil War Comes to North Carolina. By Philip Gerard . (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019 . Preface, illustrations, afterword, acknowledgments, selected sources, index . Pp . xii, 362 . $28 .00 .)

Philip Gerard has written a most entertaining group of studies about North Carolina in the Civil War and brought them together in a single volume . They were originally published as contributions to Our State: Celebrating North Carolina, and the author has refined them and placed them in rough chronological order . Gerard’s objective appears to be to examine some of the hidden corners of the conflict and to explore the lives of those often ignored in previous accounts of the Civil War in North Carolina . The author has successfully integrated women, slaves, poor whites, and free African Americans into his narratives . These people come alive in his pages as full participants in this state and national crisis . The featured events and people depicted cover North Carolina geographically with an admirable absence of stereotypical characterizations of sections of the state . Some of the historical actors are victims, like the men and boys executed by Confederate soldiers in Madison County; others give their lives for those battered by the war, like the Sisters of Mercy; still others try to survive tremendous hardship, like the Union military prisoners at Salisbury . Gerard is able to make the reader understand the motivations of the subjects of his accounts without sentimentalizing them or their circumstances . Gerard also includes several episodes or developments that did not take place primarily in North Carolina, but that he feels relate to the state in a significant way . Among these

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are the battles of Gettysburg and the Crater; the role of baseball during the conflict; the career of a female Confederate spy; military equipment carried by Confederate soldiers; and a most effective blockade runner and sea combat leader . Each of these chapters is interesting and contains information that allows the reader to understand some of the broader context of the war for North Carolinians . It is not always clear from the text, however, why these events or people were chosen and others excluded . Although this book has many virtues, there are two limitations that should be noted . The author covers the entire state for the duration of the conflict, but his chapters are not welded together by a coherent analytical framework . He does constantly emphasize that people of North Carolina faced terrible problems throughout the conflict, but he does not draw consistent conclusions from those observations . Instead the reader is left to make connections and draw conclusions without the author’s assistance . For readers who wish to do further research on the topics Gerard covers, he provides little assistance . His bibliography of works consulted is impressive, but he does not provide any footnotes . Thus, the many direct quotes that enliven his accounts are from unidentified sources . This means that scholars will have to spend a great deal of time tracing material through several possible sources . This is not to suggest that there are inaccuracies, but that there is no way to check . This is unfortunate because many of Gerard’s readers may want to probe deeper than they can conveniently do now . Gordon B . McKinney Berea College

Race, Place, and Memory: Deep Currents in Wilmington, North Carolina . By Margaret M . Mulrooney . (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2018 . Foreword, acknowledgments, introduction, illustrations, notes, bibliography, index . Pp . xv, 355 . $95 .00 .)

In Race, Place, and Memory: Deep Currents in Wilmington, North Carolina, public historian Margaret M . Mulrooney provides the first highly detailed chronicle of Wilmington’s history of race relations and how its citizens have remembered, utilized, and (more recently) contested particular events from that history from the 1730s to the present . Most notable among these events is the violent, white Democrat–led coup of 1898, which she researched extensively as part of Wilmington’s centennial commemoration effort . From her research into the 1898 coup and beyond, Mulrooney concludes that generations of the city’s white elites, made up of a “few wealthy, interconnected families” (p . 217), have been the primary authors behind a dominant and largely celebratory historical narrative designed to help maintain their economic power, one that she argues diminishes the “racist violence, labor exploitation, and political exclusion” that underlay much of the community’s prosperity (p . 280) . With a primary goal of boosting tourism and industry, the city’s leadership naturally sought to present a progressive

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image of Wilmington that highlighted and marketed bright moments of its past, such as the community’s contributions to the American Revolution (being the first colonial city to resist the Stamp Act, for one) . “On the surface,” Mulrooney argues, “the city possesses a tranquil appearance and a timeless quality, but these traits have in, fact, been carefully constructed to hide deeper truths” (p . 11) . Accordingly, few prominent whites are willing to acknowledge the “wealth and power that their ancestors unjustly derived by terrorizing black residents and exploiting their labor,” action that was most severe beginning with the first African slaves brought to the southeastern port city in the early eighteenth century and through the Wilmington coup targeting black businesses and politicians in 1898 (p . 251) . As a result, black citizens’ suffering and resistance to racism have been ignored and gone unrecognized for far too long, says Mulrooney, and have fueled racial tensions on into the twenty-first century . As she asserts, even the centennial commemoration of the 1898 coup, of which she was a part, failed to achieve the goal of racial reconciliation, which she discusses at length in her final chapter . The commemoration represented a good start and showed how far the community had come over the decades, but in contrast to what she would classify as an “authentic public history endeavor,” the commemoration effort “never managed to involve the most disfranchised members of the community” but instead gave “preference to middle-class, educated blacks and whites and to white elites” (p . 274) . For those wanting to know how Wilmington’s handling of race and memory might compare to that in other communities in North Carolina, the South, or the nation, Mulrooney makes the case throughout her work that Wilmington is anything but unique . In short, “Wilmington is a microcosm of America” (p . 280) . Although “certain events were unique to this community, most of the changes that occurred here reflected broader trends in twentieth-century America” (p . 178) . This particular argument, however, is one source of minor critique . From its lack of a plantation-based slavery (which was certainly rare in the eastern part of the state) to its being among the first southern communities in the twentieth century to grapple with and attempt to improve race relations through a controversial public history project (i .e ., the centennial commemoration), Wilmington’s local complexity may deserve a bit more emphasis . In a similar vein, Mulrooney would ideally have gone into more detail about city leaders’ efforts to erect a memorial to the victims of the Wilmington coup in 2008 (which is mentioned largely in passing), as well as similar support from the state of North Carolina to place a historical marker in the city following issuance of a state-commissioned report in 2006 . Nevertheless, Mulrooney’s work is a valuable addition to our understanding both of Wilmington’s complex and often disturbing racial past and of the power of public memory in directing a community’s future for good or otherwise . Her suggestions in the final chapter on how other communities can engage with authentic public history

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projects in order to “prompt social change” through “a more analytical, self-reflective evaluation of our common past” (p . 246) could be of particular value to fellow public historians and community leaders alike . Karen Hawkins Cary, North Carolina

North Carolina’s Experience during the First World War . Edited by Shepherd W . McKinley and Steven Sabol . (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 2018 . Acknowledgments, introduction, illustrations, maps, tables and figures, notes, index . Pp . xvii, 347 . $50 .00 .)

Even before the guns of the First World War fell silent on November 11, 1918, Americans in localities across the nation began crafting the narratives of their communities’ wartime experience . They produced commemorative books, pamphlets, memorials, monuments, and more . It is only fitting, then, that to mark the centenary of that Great War, historians should analyze how the war affected Americans, not through a broad-brush nationalistic lens, but through local and regional perspectives . There is a growing list of these micro-histories that nest within or contradict the macro-narratives of the complex national milieu of the time . Thus, Senior Lecturer Shepherd W . McKinley and Professor Steven Sabol of the University of North Carolina at Charlotte have produced a welcome addition to Tar Heel history with North Carolina’s Experience during the First World War . They ambitiously edited a work with eighteen chapters organized into five sections: Military, Politics, Memory, Homefront, and Business and Labor in 347 pages . These pages cover a lot, from local attempts to gain military installations and how they influenced the community to racial, class, and gender roles, struggles, and contributions . The authors of the eighteen chapters could offer only a slice of the larger Tar Heel experience within their, on average, sixteen pages . There are some commonalities among them . A number of authors highlighted the missed opportunities offered by the war, and many included research into North Carolina’s Council of Defense in their notes . Several of the chapters stand out . For instance, Shannon Bontrager does a very good job of interweaving the politics, racism, archives, and records-keeping with memory, memorializing, and crafting a historical narrative . Karl Campbell engages the historiography of early twentieth-century political machines and the “progressive plutocracy’s” influence, as well as the social and cultural concerns, on North Carolina politics . Pamela C . Edwards contextualizes the Tar Heel labor movement in the broad racial and socioeconomic conflicts of the day . Jonathan F . Philips’s chapter opens a window into civil-military relations and the drive for “superbases” that adds context to the otherwise anti-permanent military narrative of the early twentieth century . Janet G . Hudson offers great insights into the experiences of black Tar Heel soldiers . All of

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these are not only good introductions into their respective topics, but also important contributions to the overall scholarship of the First World War era and North Carolina history . Unfortunately, there just is not enough space in this review to discuss them all . There are some minor inconsistencies, such as James S . Bissett’s claim that North Carolina “escaped most of the worse abuses of ‘one hundred percent Americanism,’ ” while Gary R . Freeze and Shannon Bontrager offer more context of what that meant in the Tar Heel State and how prevalent it was (p . 101) . It is disconcerting that “shell shock,” the term established by this war, is rarely mentioned in the context of the psychological effects of the war, but an ahistorical association with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is mentioned several times . Regardless of these and other minor critiques, Jeffrey J . Crow’s introduction sums up the value of this work overall as offering “much greater texture and granularity” (p . xii) . Many of the chapters highlight the missed opportunities the war offered, as well as where there is room for further research . North Carolina’s Experience during the First World War provides a good introduction to Tar Heels and the war . Adding these state histories will offer students and scholars alike a better mosaic of how the First World War influenced America . Lon Strauss Marine Corps University

Lethal State: A History of the Death Penalty in North Carolina . By Seth Kotch . (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019 . Introduction, illustrations, tables and figures, conclusion, acknowledgments, appendixes, notes, bibliography, index . Pp . 307 . $27 .95, paper .)

Hundreds of books about the death penalty have been published in the 250 years in which deliberate killings as a criminal punishment have been questioned and frequently abolished, but Lethal State by Seth Kotch is in one respect a novel undertaking . There have been other scholarly books to focus on the historical record of state execution (see, for example, Stuart Banner, The Death Penalty: An American History, 2002), but no substantial volume has been devoted to the history of capital punishment in a single American state until Professor Kotch provided his detailed history of the death penalty in North Carolina . The sources Kotch draws upon to portray patterns of conduct and cultural meaning over time in this volume include statistics and governmental reports but focus more substantially on newspaper accounts and memoirs . The book describes attitudes and practices in North Carolina by telling stories from contemporary accounts . Professor Kotch would presumably be no friend of state killing as a legal punishment in any setting, but the account he provides of capital punishment in North Carolina is a particular horror . Racist fantasies and the exclusion of African Americans from participation in the criminal justice system guaranteed that any criminal justice process

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in North Carolina would be essentially illegitimate . When the power to kill is used in this current process, a bad system is rendered even worse . North Carolina’s nasty habit of pretending to require a death sentence for a variety of non–life-threatening offenses also meant that legal standards had no role in separating the many hundreds of offenders that the law called capital from the tiny fraction who were chosen for death— thus, the selection process was fundamentally lawless . What makes this book singular—its focus on only a single state—also limits its capacity to explain how North Carolina differs from other places and what are the important causes for the pathologies that emerge from this story . High rates of execution, lynchings, and rampant racial discrimination were common characteristics of many southern states, and the historical lynching histories of such states do a rather good job of predicting which states persist in executing in current circumstances (see Franklin E . Zimring, The Contradictions of American Capital Punishment, 2003, ch . 5) . Is North Carolina with all its faults merely typical of many other high-lynching states that are now the core of states that execute in the twenty-first century, or is North Carolina a special case? The irony is that because this book profiles only North Carolina, there are no data to answer this question in the book . A second problem is that the large and important differences of geography and culture in the many parts of this very large state are also not put under the author’s cultural microscope . What we have here is a popular history of a terrible practice, told in rich and horrifying detail . The larger aim of this book, it would seem, is not to ensure that the figures in the state’s history who tolerated the gross injustices of the past are called to account, but rather to encourage the state’s current decision makers to end the epidemic of injustice . One hopes that it will do so . Franklin E . Zimring University of California, Berkeley School of Law

Fire and Stone: The Making of the University of North Carolina under Presidents Edward Kidder Graham and Harry Woodburn Chase . By Howard E . Covington Jr . (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Library, 2018 . Foreword, illustrations, notes, bibliography, acknowledgments, index . Pp . xiii, 528 . $35 .00 .)

Howard E . Covington Jr . offers a thorough accounting of two critical University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (UNC) presidencies in the early twentieth century . Through the 1910s and 1920s, the leadership of Edward Kidder Graham and Harry Woodburn Chase helped UNC embrace the modern university mission of placing faculty expertise in service to state . Graham and Chase faced a series of similar challenges: fund- raising, appropriations struggles with Raleigh, questions over the new place of athletics

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on campus, and concerns over student morality from the state’s conservative religious leaders being the most constant . Yet both Graham and Chase managed to keep the university on course to a time when UNC was recognized as a leader in southern higher education by the 1930s . Covington shows how Edward Kidder Graham, who started as acting president in 1913, grew to become an effective advocate for modernizing the university . Graham came from a family with deep ties to the state’s education community . He knew the state and, as an alumnus and faculty member before becoming president, he knew the university . Much like his cousin and later UNC president, Frank Porter Graham, Edward Kidder presented a familiar, trustworthy face when making the case for more facilities or for adding new departments . Under Graham, UNC expanded its extension service as a critical part of bringing university expertise to the people of the state . He also was at the helm when the Kenan professorships began, a boon for hiring and retaining quality faculty . Tragically, Graham’s life was cut short when he died of influenza in 1918 . He was only forty-two years old . Harry Woodburn Chase, who had served as a faculty member under Graham, was made president in 1919 . With a doctorate in psychology, Chase had been at UNC since 1910 . As president, he continued the modernization of UNC as he added, among other things, the influential department of sociology and the Institute of Research in Social Science under Howard Odum . Chase weathered a state economy already showing signs of weakness before the Great Depression and a bitter controversy over the teaching of evolution provoked by the state’s conservative Christian leaders . He also had to contend with attacks from the Southern Textile Bulletin’s David Clark . Clark, claiming to speak for the state’s industrial class, went after the university’s research into labor conditions in textile mills . From deep within the rabbit hole of 1920s white southern conservatism, Clark railed constantly about how UNC had become a hotbed of radicalism . By the beginning of the 1930s, Chase was ready to move on, opening the door for the presidency of Frank Porter Graham . Fire and Stone also reminds readers of the honorable mission that UNC embarked on a century or so ago . Despite the very obvious shortcomings in our modern eyes of being a Jim Crow–era university with still too-little interest in educating women, there is still something admirable about the university’s efforts to recruit and support expertise and to then put that expertise to use for the good of the people . One may also be left feeling wistful after reading of a time when the state’s political leadership, for the most part, supported that vision and saw the university as a point of civic pride . Covington has performed an important service with this richly detailed examination of Edward Kidder Graham and Harry Woodburn Chase . Charles J . Holden St . Mary’s College of Maryland

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A Delicious Country: Rediscovering the Carolinas along the Route of John Lawson’s 1700 Expedition . By Scott Huler . (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019 . Introduction, map, illustrations, bibliography, index . Pp . 251 . $28 .00 .)

With a title like “A Delicious Country,” one might expect this book to be a culinary travelogue, not unlike “Delicious Destinations” on the Travel Channel . In that show the host, Andrew Zimmern, travels the world in search of foods that define a location . Each episode is an ethnographic snapshot seen through the lens of a culture’s foodways . Scott Huler has, indeed, created a similar travelogue, but it is not just about food . Rather, A Delicious Country is an ethnographic journey backward and forward in time through the lens of a culture’s pathways . On the surface, the book is a retracing of John Lawson’s six-hundred-mile trek from Charleston, South Carolina, to Bath, North Carolina, at the turn of the eighteenth century . But like Lawson’s A New Voyage to Carolina, A Delicious Country is so much more . The author, inspired by a story that Lawson had walked by his Raleigh home, decided to find out more about the colonial explorer/naturalist/ethnographer/settler . What he found out, besides the remarkable scope of Lawson’s interests, was that no one had tried to duplicate Lawson’s journey through the Carolinas, which was all the motivation a writer needs . What Huler undertook was not a simple reenactment of a historic trek . Rather it was a re-creation of a journey of discovery . Both Huler and his subject were observers, with guides, exploring a changing landscape . Like Lawson’s trek, much of the modern expedition was on foot, though the occasional canoe was employed where appropriate . Unlike Lawson, Huler broke the journey up into segments, used social media to find guides and places to camp, and kept an online blog of his experiences (http://www . lawsontrek com/. ) . These experiences, though separated by more than three centuries, were remarkably similar to those of Lawson . In some places, like the coastal marshes of South Carolina, Huler could truly imagine seeing what Lawson must have seen . In other places, highways and development had radically changed the viewshed, but not the character of the landscape . Then as now, much of the interior is rural with dwindling populations and abandoned towns . Ironically, it was only when he was in the Charlotte and Raleigh areas that the landscape was truly different . Yet even there, Huler found patches of vegetation that Lawson would surely have recognized . A good trip is measured by the stories it generates . Huler has many tales to tell from his adventures . There were, of course, the interesting flora and fauna . However, more revealing were the colorful individuals he met along his way . Some were lineal descendants of the people who may have met Lawson and others were more the virtual descendants of the types of people Lawson surely met . The similarities between the characters of the people both Huler and Lawson describe is striking .

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Like all “road” books, the story here is about the journey, not the destination . And a wonderful journey/story it is . Although Huler provides many passages from Lawson’s book, the reader will be inspired to pick up a copy and read it (or reread it) themselves . As Huler (p . 10) observes, “A lot has changed since Lawson’s day, but not the value of travel, of walking the earth, of breathing the air, of moving your body through fresh terrain and allowing it to make its impressions on you, of candidly sharing those impressions .” Charles R . Ewen East Carolina University

Native Southerners: Indigenous History from Origins to Removal. By Gregory D . Smithers . (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2019 . Acknowledgments, introduction, illustrations, epilogue, notes, bibliography, index . Pp . x, 259 . $29 .95, paper .)

Gregory Smithers provides a historical overview of the many Indigenous Peoples of the South—from Cherokees and Creeks (Muscogee) who inhabited present-day Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama, to the Biloxi-Chitimacha-Choctaws who still live on the Gulf Coast—from the beginning of time to the mid-nineteenth century . As stated, the “goal of this book is to introduce readers to the societies, cultures, and people who made and remade the Native South,” and the broader American South, for that matter (p . 6) . Smithers similarly and impressively synthesizes the most recent historical, archaeological, and ethnological histories for these diverse peoples . In doing so, Smithers narrates the many and varied ways in which groups like the Chickasaw, Natchez, Yuchi, Tuscarora, Seminole, and Caddo experienced the past, particularly their centuries-long interactions with Euro-Americans, and fundamentally shaped the South throughout the centuries . As Smithers articulates, all of these “stories matter” because “the importance of storytelling—of not only speaking, but listening—is critical to understanding the histories of Native Southerners” (p . 3) . And what Smithers ultimately hopes to accomplish is to inform the uninitiated of the critical role that Native Southerners played throughout American history, and thereby “inspire empathy and raise new questions that deepen our collective understanding of the histories featured throughout this book” (p . 11) . Smithers’s most significant contribution is tackling the toxic stereotypes that exist in the United States today regarding Indigenous Americans and their histories . He immediately demonstrates the great diversity that existed (and still exists) among Native Southerners and their multiplicity of identities and stories . Smithers also addresses popular misconceptions about North American “pre-history”—the era before European arrival—in which Mississippian groups (i .e ., paramount chiefdoms) carved out complex societies and urban spaces in the South that rivaled what existed in Europe at the time, and that contrary to the assumption Europeans held an “edge over Native

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[Peoples]” upon contact, Native Southerners quickly acquired firearms and developed new tactics and technologies to confront the European threat (p . 51) . In other words, Mississippian peoples “played a profoundly important role in the history of the . . . South” (p . 53) . Smithers similarly challenges the idea of “origins” in American history— or when North America became inhabited—by privileging Creation (Origin) Stories and Indigenous worldviews that reflect centuries-long beliefs by Native Americans that they have always been here, despite what scientists and archaeologists might say about the Bering Land Bridge, Solutrean theory, coastal migration, and DNA analysis (pp . 27–30) . Smithers further demonstrates how Native Southerners not only interacted with Euro- Americans—both violently and nonviolently—over the course of centuries (far longer than the United States has been in existence), but also profoundly shaped U .S . history as much as Europeans did . Altogether, Smithers exposes such pervasive and deeply rooted stereotypes while humanizing the many Native Southerners and their ancestors who live with a “historical awareness of how European and American societies impacted, and continue to impact, their lives,” particularly when it comes to their histories and identities (p . 165) . This is why Smithers’s synthetic overview is not only an essential addition to scholarship on the Native South and Native American history more generally, but also for a general reading public that overwhelmingly consumes popular histories—most recently John Sedgwick’s Blood Moon: An American Epic of War and Splendor in the Cherokee Nation—that perpetuate and reinforce the stereotypes that haunt Indigenous Americans and histories today . There is only one nagging criticism for Smithers: why stop at Removal, which has the potential to reify certain stereotypes (declension) that abound in Native American history? However, this should not detract from the importance of this book, which challenges and thoroughly complicates the stories that Americans tell about themselves and the past . Bryan C . Rindfleisch Marquette University

“The Only Unavoidable Subject of Regret”: George Washington, Slavery, and the Enslaved Community at Mount Vernon . By Mary V . Thompson . (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2019 . Preface, introduction, illustrations, conclusion, appendix, notes, bibliography, index . Pp . xv, 502 . $29 .95 .)

Mary V . Thompson, a historian at George Washington’s Mount Vernon estate, takes the title of her compelling new book from Washington himself . Late in life, the ex- president confided to an aide that the plight of Mount Vernon’s slaves was his “only unavoidable subject of regret” (p . 322) . Washington acquired a considerable number of enslaved Africans by inheritance or purchase before the American Revolution, and he

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assumed responsibility for others in 1759 when he married the widow Martha Dandridge Custis, who had a dower, or life, interest in eighty-four slaves owned by the estate of her late husband . A perfectionist, Washington struggled with a bad temper and drove others as hard as he drove himself, but he was typically well mannered, thoughtful, and open- minded . Apparently complacent about slavery in his youth, the mature Washington came to see its evils . He feared that the abolition of slavery by federal law would lead to disunion, but he hoped to set an example for the new republic by freeing Mount Vernon’s slaves . That would not be simple . Washington lacked both the legal power to emancipate Martha’s dower slaves and the funds to purchase them from the Custis estate . His own slaves had intermarried with the Custis slaves, further complicating matters, but Washington ultimately provided in his will that all his slaves would be freed upon Martha’s death . Almost three-quarters of Mount Vernon’s working slaves—and many of the enslaved were too young or too infirm to work—toiled on one of the estate’s five farms . More than half of them were women . Slaves worked six days a week from sunrise to sunset, with two hours off for meals . The workday could vary greatly from winter to summer; Thompson describes the slaves’ work routine as “roughly comparable to that of white laborers at the same period” (p . 107) . Slaves might be compensated for doing extra work or for working on a holiday . A few were literate, some owned guns, and some supplemented their diets and their incomes by hunting game and keeping gardens and chickens . Thompson concludes that the enslaved on Virginia’s large estates “probably had more freedom over certain aspects of their lives than the average modern visitor—raised with visions of antebellum, deep South cotton plantations as the norm—would suspect” (p . 219) . About two-thirds of Mount Vernon’s adult slaves were married, often to slaves on other plantations . Relationships tended to be stable, and natural increase produced steady population growth, giving Washington, who did not want to sell Africans, more workers than he could gainfully employ by the 1790s . Thompson’s data suggest that Mount Vernon’s enslaved enjoyed generally good health, except for high mortality rates among infants and young children, which she attributes to poor nutrition . From 1760 until Washington’s death in 1799, 7 percent of Mount Vernon’s slaves fled the estate . Less dramatic forms of resistance were far more common . In a brutal age when military discipline and criminal law permitted mutilation and corporal punishment, Mount Vernon’s slaves were sometimes whipped, occasionally even by Washington, although he wanted to see himself as a benevolent master and preferred the carrot to the stick . Washington never seems to have fully understood why, to his mind, relatively well-treated people would resist enslavement .

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A judicious scholar, Thompson treats a difficult subject with an unflagging even- handedness . Nuanced, richly detailed, and thoroughly researched, “The Only Unavoidable Subject of Regret” seems likely to become a landmark in Mount Vernon’s historiography . Jeff Broadwater Barton College

Southern Gambit: Cornwallis and the British March to Yorktown . By Stanley D . M . Carpenter . (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2019 . Preface, introduction, illustrations, maps, conclusion, appendix, notes, bibliography, index . Pp . xiii, 314 . $34 .95 .)

Stanley Carpenter has written a monograph from the British strategic perspective detailing events in the last three years of the Revolutionary War in the South, with a focus on the British commander, Charles, Lord Cornwallis . Carpenter seeks to provide “insights for contemporary strategic and operational planners and decision makers” in a “lessons learned” approach, “especially one that has intrinsic value for future generations of professional crafters of strategy and operations dealing with a harsh, unfriendly world” (p . xiii) . Beginning in late 1779, British authorities decided to focus on a major campaign in the southern colonies, in which military forces would use Loyalists to support Crown efforts to end the rebellion . British armies, led by Cornwallis beginning in June 1780, would “clear” provinces of Patriot forces, while Loyalists would then “hold” these gains . Carpenter argues that it was “a sound concept theoretically . The operational execution proved faulty, however, particularly the critical aspects of unity of command and effort, strategic leadership, and logistics, resulting in a profound failure” (p . 4) . British strategic planners and operational commanders failed to understand the “true nature of the conflict in the South,” especially regarding the “ability and motivation of southern Loyalists” to support the war goals (p . 7) . Carpenter correctly identifies the fatal “lack of strategic coherence between the key decision makers,” Henry Clinton, George Germaine, and Cornwallis (p . 4), who “failed to ensure unity of command and unity of effort” (p . 8) . Moreover, Cornwallis’s wide-reaching campaign into both Carolinas and Virginia was more than the British logistical capabilities could support . The book is primarily a chronological military history of the campaign from Charleston to Yorktown, and its strength is the analysis of command problems on both sides of the Atlantic . While the book is a well-organized overview of the war in the South that makes accurate assessments about British mistakes, personality clashes among leaders, and faulty assumptions about Loyalist support, this study is marred by several issues . The author, a Naval War College professor, uses too much current military jargon in his account . Terms including “operationalized strategy,” “net assessment,” “individual central players,” “central organizing authority,” “force multipliers,” and “tactical pause” are in this context jarring and often unexplained . Likewise, many sentences, such as “Martial

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superiority includes tactical acumen, operational artistry, strategic vision, battlefield management, and intuition” read like an Army field manual on strategy (p . 13) . Carpenter’s arguments and prose are at times repetitive, often with similar language . Many sections end with overly dramatic, deterministic phrases such as “like a row of dominoes, the events of the first few months of 1779 set in motion a chain of events that would culminate at the tiny village of Yorktown over two years distant” (p . 63), followed by “like a row of dominoes, the events of the first few months of 1779 followed by the success at Charleston the following spring set in motion a chain of events that culminated on a Virginia Peninsula over two years distant” (p . 94) . Likewise, numerous phrases such as “Cornwallis’s retirement to [Hillsborough] and Greene’s decision to re- cross the Dan ultimately determined the outcome of the war” (p . 192) make defeat at Yorktown all but inevitable, ignore the importance of contingency in military history, and lead to a teleological perspective . Readers may also find some faulty arguments in the narrative . Carpenter, for instance, writes that “Cornwallis advocated . . . the use of offensive military actions to destroy the opponent’s ability to continue the fight whenever and wherever possible” (p . 13) . If so, however, why did he move into North Carolina before South Carolina had been subdued, and leave Patriot forces in his rear after the battle of Guilford Courthouse and march to Virginia? Likewise, he writes that after the battle of Ramsour’s Mill, “western North Carolina Loyalism became a nonfactor for the remainder of the war,” but later says the same battle “had not yet produced the eventual devastating effect of suppressing North Carolina Loyalist enthusiasm” (pp . 92–94) . Carpenter also gives jumbled, inaccurate descriptions of the battles of Camden and Guilford Courthouse . For the latter engagement, he loses the battle sequence and even the correct geographical directions . On one hand he writes that the Maryland and Virginia regiments “were regarded as some of the best in the army” (p . 198), but in fact only one of Greene’s Continental regiments was an experienced unit, as recent scholarship has demonstrated . Surprisingly, the book offers no new arguments about the British southern strategy, and there is no historiographical engagement with previous studies of the war in the South . In fact, Carpenter leaves out much of the work of Jim Piecuch, Wayne Lee, Gregory Massey, Robert Calhoon, Ronald Hoffman, and others regarding the southern theater of the war, particularly regarding the internecine war between Whigs and Loyalists, which gets little attention in Southern Gambit . All historians inevitably make mistakes in writing their books . Unfortunately, Carpenter makes many errors in the details, such that readers may come to question the book’s reliability . To cite but a few examples, the battle map of Camden is incorrect; Banastre Tarleton was not a major during the campaign; Hillsborough was never the capital of North Carolina; Nesbit Balfour did not command a light infantry company; Cheraw is not “on the headwaters of the Pee Dee River”; and the author writes that the 1st

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North Carolina Continental regiment was at the battle of Ramsour’s Mill in 1780 (it was not), but then a page later states that the battle was fought “exclusively” by irregular forces . John R . Maass National Museum of the United States Army, Fort Belvoir, Virginia

Appealing for Liberty: Freedom Suits in the South . By Loren Schweninger . (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018 . Acknowledgments, introduction, illustrations, appendix, notes, index . Pp . x, 428 . $39 .95 .)

The infamous U S. . Supreme Court case, Dred Scott v. Sanford (U S. . 1857), often remembered as a portent of a looming Civil War, is the most well-known example of a unique type of lawsuit referred to as a freedom suit . Unknown in the other Western Hemisphere slave societies, freedom suits allowed enslaved African Americans to prove their legal right to freedom . In Appealing for Liberty: Freedom Suits in the South, Dr . Loren Schweninger, a distinguished scholar of African American history and emeritus professor at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, provides the first comprehensive study of freedom suits . He analyzes the outcomes of more than four thousand freedom suits filed in fifteen southern slave states from 1779 to 1863 . Schweninger’s newest book makes important contributions to our understanding of enslavement and the southern legal system . Schweninger draws heavily upon primary sources compiled by The Race and Slavery Petitions Project under his direction . Nearly 140,000 pages were microfilmed and are also accessible through ProQuest’s “Slavery and the Law Digital Library ”. The voices of enslaved African Americans emerge from rarely studied trial court records produced in an adversarial litigation context guarding against embellishment . Much like Schweninger’s Black Property Owners in the South, 1790–1915, Appealing for Liberty includes an array of statistical tables that make data patterns visible . Dr . Schweninger’s engaging writing smoothly blends references to these patterns with compelling individual stories . Appealing for Liberty generally fits comfortably within existing historiography . The book divides the pre–Civil War South into the Upper South and Lower South, with Louisiana remaining distinct . More questionably, North Carolina is included in the Lower South . The book also divides the cases into three time periods: 1779 to 1819; 1820 to 1839; and 1840 to 1863 . This analytical basis for this timeline remains unstated . The book is organized in a straightforward manner . Chapter 1 examines the key role played by African American women, who used knowledge of their families’ genealogies in filing freedom suits . Chapter 2 discusses laws adopted by southern states after the American Revolution allowing for freedom suits . Chapter 3 deftly explains how the differences between the types of courts where freedom suits were filed impacted case results .

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Chapters 4 through 9 reveal how freedom suits’ outcomes often varied depending on their legal basis . Chapter 4 involves cases seeking to enforce wills and deeds intended to grant freedom . Chapter 5 discusses cases arising from promises of future manumission . Chapter 6 considers lawsuits seeking freedom based on descent from white women, free Native women, and free African American women . Chapter 7 reviews freedom suits based on prior residency in a free state or free territory, while chapter 8 analyzes cases where slave owners did not honor self-purchase agreements . Chapter 9 focuses on freedom suits brought by free African Americans alleged to be runaway slaves . The impact of family relationships upon freedom suits is further explored by chapter 10 . Chapter 11 addresses the white lawyers who represented freedom suit plaintiffs . Though not generally antislavery, they displayed formidable professional acumen in these cases . In a distinct parallel to an earlier case from chapter 1, which had a happier outcome, chapter 12 uses the failed freedom suit by an African American family to show how much steeper the climb out of bondage through a freedom suit became during the antebellum period . Appealing for Liberty is a remarkable book . The sheer depth of research, both in terms of time and geography, provides confidence in its conclusions . While certain sections might be improved by considering relevant historiography, Appealing for Liberty should be read by those interested in American slavery and the workings of the antebellum southern legal system . Jeremy T . Canipe University of North Carolina at Charlotte

Unredeemed Land: An Environmental History of Civil War and Emancipation in the Cotton South. By Erin Stewart Mauldin . (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018 . Acknowledgments, introduction, tables and figures, conclusion, notes, bibliography, index . Pp . x, 244 . $35 00. .)

The transformative impact of the Civil War on the American South is a topic that has been covered extensively by generations of scholars . The destructive nature of the conflict left large portions of the South in ruins and ushered in vast economic and social changes . In Unredeemed Land: An Environmental History of Civil War and Emancipation in the Cotton South, Erin Stewart Mauldin adds new complexity to the story by examining the impact of the Civil War on the American South through the prism of environmental history . Relying on a rich blend of manuscript sources, agricultural studies, and modern scientific publications, she points to the environmental destruction unleashed by the conflict as the principal catalyst for many of the postwar changes in the region . Focusing on the cotton cultivating regions of the South, Mauldin details the profound shifts in southern agriculture from the antebellum period through 1880 . Before the Civil

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War, southern planters and farmers had adapted to the peculiar restraints of the region’s environment and created a largely self-sufficient agricultural order based on shifting cultivation, free-range livestock, crop rotation, the use of fire for land clearance, and a heavy reliance on slave labor . This system helped to obscure some of the environmental problems related to cotton cultivation and allowed many planters to prosper . This system of extensive land use, however, also left the region particularly exposed to the depredations of war . Mauldin challenges the prevailing historiography by arguing that the Civil War “was a profoundly environmental event, rather than a purely military or political occurrence” (p . 4) . Environmental devastation unleashed by four long years of war destroyed the delicate prewar agricultural and ecological order . The centers of cotton production in the South soon played host to vast armies and witnessed numerous battles and campaign . Soldiers, friend and foe alike, destroyed fences, killed vast numbers of free-ranging livestock, dug trenches, built fortifications, and cut forests for their needs . The prewar system of extensive land use in the region meant that resources, including timber and free-ranging livestock, could be easily exploited by marauding armies . Additionally, the war helped bring about the emancipation of millions of slaves, cutting off the region’s supply of cheap labor . Faced with scenes of utter ecological destruction and lacking the resources or cheap slave labor needed to “redeem” the land, the cotton- producing South slid into a new postwar agricultural order characterized by intensive cotton cultivation and the extreme environmental problems associated with it . Severe erosion, land degradation, the spread of cattle diseases, forest destruction, and declining cotton prices characterized the new order . As lands in the cotton belt were degraded and abandoned, many residents fled the region, carrying these destructive practices into ever more marginal areas of the South and magnifying the problems . Unredeemed Land adds an important new chapter to the expanding historiography of southern environmental history . Mauldin’s work goes far in helping to explain why southern farmers and planters would have embraced a postwar system of intensive cotton production that proved to be so detrimental to the land and its people . The ecological damage caused by the war left them with few other options . Mauldin concentrates her attentions primarily on the ecological impact of the Civil War on agricultural developments in the cotton-producing regions of the South . Perhaps an expanded focus could have provided additional insight into the environmental impact of the war and its aftermath . More details on the early postwar timber industry or the impact of the war on wildlife populations and hunting traditions could have made the work more compelling . The book, however, serves as an important introduction to the American Civil War’s devastating ecological legacy . Justin C . Eaddy Greenville Technical College

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Sisters and Rebels: A Struggle for the Soul of America . By Jacquelyn Dowd Hall . (New York: W . W . Norton and Co ,. 2019 . Introduction, illustrations, acknowledgments, notes, bibliography, index . Pp . 690 . $39 .95 .)

“Their mother teaches them their prayers,” stated William Lumpkin, father of Elizabeth, Grace, and Katherine Lumpkin, the subjects of Jacquelyn Dowd Hall’s resplendent biography; “I teach them to love the Lost Cause” (p . 38) . In fact, the sisters would vary wildly in their allegiance to the self-serving principle of white supremacy that shaped their father’s dreams, their family lore, and their upbringing, but none would, over the course of their long, complicated, and divergent lives, shake their determination to bear the family name, identify with the South, and interpret their complicated legacy for themselves . In Hall’s rendering, which emerges from decades of work engaging with oral histories, scholarly publications, archival sources, private papers, FBI reports, and the sisters’ published and unpublished fiction and nonfiction, the Lumpkin sisters reveal the fault lines of our gendered, racialized, and regionalized understandings of the nation’s late-nineteenth and early-to-mid-twentieth century histories—and the varied ways in which Americans across those decades reflected on the nation’s original sin . Elizabeth, the eldest of the Lumpkin sisters, wholeheartedly embraced the Lost Cause narrative, weaving it into her marriage, community work, and identity . Recognized in her teenage years as a skilled orator, and dubbed the “Daughter of United Confederate Veterans” (p . 47), Elizabeth promulgated the “mobilization of memory” (p . 42), a gendered role that granted white women cultural authority, a public voice, and real power over history textbooks and courthouse statues . When she married, a full forty years after the conclusion of the Civil War, Elizabeth’s Confederate-themed wedding featured antebellum-styled dresses for women and dusted-off military uniforms for men . Although this sister features far less in the work than do her more accomplished and complicated siblings, Elizabeth’s story serves as an object lesson in just how far her sisters had to travel, literally and metaphorically, to escape the reach of white supremacy . Grace, the middle sister, did escape for a good many years, immersing herself in Progressive-era Manhattan’s overlapping circles of social gospel practitioners, socialists, pacifists, communists, union organizers, feminists, and bohemians, working as a labor journalist and novelist . Her renunciation of the past was swift and, seemingly, complete: in addition to engaging in antiracist work and linking that work directly to her family’s sins, Grace married not just a labor organizer but a working-class Jewish laborer . Her most successful work, To Make My Bread, draws on the themes that mark much of her writing: the lack of attention men, radical or otherwise, paid to the workings of gender; the ongoing nature of white southerners’ affinity with white supremacy, a commitment that ensured their continued poverty; and the promise of women, black and white, to reach across the color line . Grace’s eventual but radical retreat from these ideas and from her life as a writer brought her full circle to white-supremacist–infused penury in the southern town where the first identifiable Lumpkin had lived and died . Her story reifies

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and problematizes the well-documented shift from extreme left to extreme right made by others of her generation, immersed as her transformations were in the cult of whiteness . Katherine, author of the acclaimed autobiography The Making of a Southerner, chronicler of the life of abolitionist Angelina Grimké Weld, accomplished political leftist and social scientist, and youngest and most famous of the Lumpkin siblings, claims the strongest presence in Sisters and Rebels, deservedly so . Although she was haunted by “the hurt, disapproving voices of people she loved humming in her ears” (p . 7), Katherine devoted her personal and professional life to a gradual and deep unlearning of the narrative of the Lost Cause: examining the violence that underlay her family’s claim to racial superiority, undertaking and learning from interracial work with black women, using the tools of the social sciences to examine the economic and spiritual destitution inherent in white supremacy, and understanding that her own evolution away from the Lost Cause would always remain incomplete . That she did this as a lesbian and academic, navigating pre- and postwar political repression in and outside of the academy, makes her story all the more fraught . Hall’s multilayered narrative will be of great interest to scholars of intellectual, political, gender, and literary history; well received by popular audiences who crave a better understanding of critical moments in our present through interrogations of the past; and of tremendous value to a new generation of historians seeking avenues in to vital questions of race, gender, radicalism, and region, and to the intersectionality of these concerns . Sisters and Rebels is a long and dense work, justifiably so given the litany of causes, choices, and life paths it chronicles . It is also an elegantly crafted one: readers will not want to miss a word . If this exemplary work could be said to have a flaw, it is that it touches all too briefly on Jacquelyn Dowd Hall’s own relationships with the Lumpkin sisters, the South, and race and gender . Readers will have to hope that such a chronicling will be forthcoming . Jennifer Scanlon Bowdoin College

Department Stores and the Black Freedom Movement: Workers, Consumers, and Civil Rights from the 1930s to the 1980s. By Tracy Parker . (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019 . Acknowledgments, introduction, illustrations, epilogue, notes, bibliography, index . Pp . xiii, 309 . $27 .95 .)

The historiographical debate surrounding the periodization and economic dimensions of the Black Freedom Movement is both well worn and unsettled . By fully engaging the complex relationships between consumption, labor, race, and class, Tracy Parker skillfully and importantly expands the scope of this debate in Department Stores and the Black Freedom Movement. Parker dedicates her study of “the department store

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movement” to African Americans who “leveraged labor in tandem with consumption to realize black economic emancipation and full citizenship” (p . 7, original italics) . In doing so, she unites the economic dimensions of civil rights unionism of the 1930s and 1940s and the “classical” civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s, highlights the distinctiveness of African American class dynamics, and reminds readers that labor and consumption can never be understood separately . After an initial chapter situating the long history of department stores as simultaneous sites of middle-class aspiration, racialized democratic consumption, and Jim Crow construction, Department Stores and the Black Freedom Movement is organized chronologically from the 1930s to the 1980s . From Depression-era “Don’t Buy Where You Can’t Work” campaigns in northern cities, to postwar civil rights unionism within retail worker unions, to civil rights organizations’ pushes for merit hiring through store- based antidiscrimination committees and state laws, chapters 2 to 4 trace the obstacles and successes of the ever-evolving movement . Each iteration, Parker shows, was forced to overcome not only exaggerated concerns from department stores regarding the “qualifications” of African American workers, but also white customers’ prejudices against black workers . In their response, activists repeatedly found that “persuasion and political lobbying were most effective when supported by mass demonstrations and boycotts that leveraged both African Americans’ purchasing and labor power” (p . 147) . Chapter 5, which analyzes the southern lunch-counter movement, most successfully captures the essence of Parker’s argument . Department store workers and consumers, she shows, worked together (though in different capacities) to harness postwar economic expansion and increased black purchasing power to integrate both lunch counters and clerical staff . “Some southern [sit-in] campaigns,” Parker explains, “realized merit hiring once African American customers achieved equal access to and treatment in stores . Others . . . negotiated the hiring of blacks in sales and clerical jobs behind the scenes” (p . 149) . Parker exceptionally highlights what seems obvious in hindsight: that where there is consumption, there are workers facilitating it . As a result, unlike many other works that connect pre- and post-World War II civil rights efforts by citing, for example, lifelong individual activists, Parker identifies parallels across the goals, conceptions of freedom and citizenship, and strategies of the decades-long department store movement . The last chapter outlines the 1970s rise in discount retailers, globalization, and white suburban flight that weakened urban department stores and, in turn, diminished the hard-won gains of African Americans in retail settings . Ending with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission’s unsuccessful gender and racial discrimination cases against Sears, Roebuck and Company, Parker zeroes in on the way that a legal focus on statistical evidence as opposed to witness testimony, the movement away from civil rights organizations, and a disregard of the intersectional identities of many female black sales workers ultimately led to the commission’s loss . The epilogue helpfully reiterates the “success of integrating public accommodations,” while acknowledging the

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“unending” and evolving discrimination that African Americans face in retail work and consumption (p . 228) . Scholars of the classical civil rights movement may be curious about how notions of consumer-based citizenship also interacted with notions related to, for example, voting rights and electoral politics . Fortunately, this book has paved the way for others to engage with these kinds of questions in a more complex, holistic, and fruitful way . Jennifer Standish University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

OTHER RECENT PUBLICATIONS

In A Place to Worship: African American Camp Meetings in the Carolinas (109 pages; $49 .99), published by the University of South Carolina Press in 2018, Minuette Floyd visually tells the history and reveals traditions of African American camp meetings in North and South Carolina . Floyd’s analysis begins in August 1996, when her attendance at the Tucker’s Grove Camp Meeting brought back many childhood memories . After expanding upon these reminiscences, Floyd examines these hallowed grounds by providing a contemporary examination of African American camp meetings in sacred and social contexts and understanding their historical significance from the eldest participants . Camp meetings were spiritual and social events, which had early beginnings in the American Methodist church and spread to other denominations by the mid-1700s . Floyd finds that because enslaved African Americans were encouraged to organize their own meetings, this tradition and experience has continued intergenerationally . Floyd utilizes personal experience, firsthand accounts from meeting attendants, and a few historical annotations to support her photographic journey through the three North Carolina and four South Carolina campgrounds . Her research indicates that much of what is known about African American camp meetings is through oral history . Floyd’s background as an art education professor shines through her use of the lens . Although the photographs are visually appealing, some of the subjects would have benefitted from color, which would have supported its presentation . Nonetheless, Floyd provides a brief history of each campground that identifies it as a historic and sacred space . In conjunction with stunning photographs that capture a glimpse into a black religious and social experience, Floyd stylistically writes in a way that transports readers to the outskirts of Catawba County under an arbor . From services to foodways, the tradition of preaching, and the intricacies of the black family structure, Floyd’s photographs and anecdotes provide a more intimate look into African American Christian life through camp meetings .—Rebecca M. Byrd, University of North Carolina at Charlotte .

VOLUME XCVI • NUMBER 3 • JULY 2019 Editorial Policy

The editors of the North Carolina Historical Review and the Advisory Editorial Committee seek to publish articles and annotated documents pertaining to the history of North Carolina . The editors and the committee consider originality of material and interpretation, sources, clarity of thought, style, and interests of readers . Materials primarily genealogical are not accepted . Manuscripts should generally not exceed thirty-five double-spaced typed pages, including text and notes . Occasionally, longer manuscripts are accepted . Text and notes must be double-spaced, and the latter should appear on separate sheets at the end of the essay . The author’s name should appear only on the title page of the manuscript . The journal follows The Chicago Manual of Style, seventeenth edition, in matters of capitalization, punctuation, abbreviation, citation, and the like . The editors will provide an abbreviated style guide upon request . Authors should submit for consideration two print copies of their manuscripts to the managing editor, Historical Research Office, Office of Archives and History, Department of Natural and Cultural Resources, 4610 Mail Service Center, Raleigh, North Carolina 27699–4610 . Please also send an electronic copy to the managing editor at annie .miller@ncdcr .gov . Office of Archives and History Kevin Cherry, Deputy Secretary

The mission of the North Carolina Office of Archives and History is to collect, preserve, and utilize the state’s historic resources so that present and future residents may better understand their history. To this purpose the office safeguards the documentary and material evidence of past generations for the eduation of all citizens and the protection of their democratic rights. The North Carolina Office of Archives and History looks to the future as it endeavors to save what is important from the past and present for the education and fulfillment of all North Carolinians. The character, cultural identity, and direction of North Carolina emerge from its historic heritage.

Commissions Tryon Palace USS North Carolina Battleship Memorial

Division of Education and Outreach

Division of Historical Resources Ramona M. Bartos, Director Publishes, in print and digital format, works on North Carolina history. Identifies, protects, and enhances historic properties and archaeological sites. Provides leadership and assistance to encourage the stewardship of historic resources by government agencies, private individuals, businesses, and nonprofit organizations throughout the state. Strives to generate public awareness of North Carolina history through educational programs and under- takes historical research for department staff and the public. Historical Research Office State Historic Preservation Office Office of State Archaeology Western Office

Division of Archives and Records Sarah E. Koonts, Director Conducts statewide archival and records management programs by collecting, preserving, and managing archival materials, private collections, state and local records, and public information. collections Services Section Digital Services Section Government Records Section Special Collections Section

Division of State Historic Sites and Properties Michelle Lanier, Director Administers a statewide living history program to preserve and interpret North Carolina history for the educational benefit of current and future generations of the state’s residents and visitors. The division manages 141 historic buildings and landscapes, as well as a collection of historical artifacts spanning several millennia of North Carolina history. The living history sites include: Alamance Battleground, Aycock Birthplace, Bennett Place, Bentonville Battlefield, Brunswick Town/Fort Anderson, Charlotte Hawkins Brown Museum, CSS Neuse/Caswell Memorial, Duke Homestead, Fort Dobbs, Fort Fisher, Historic Bath, Historic Edenton, Historic Halifax, Historic Stagville, Horne Creek Farm, House in the Horseshoe, President James K. Polk Site, Reed Gold Mine, Somerset Place, Thomas Wolfe Memorial, Town Creek Indian Mound, and Vance Birthplace. Curatorial Services Section East Historic Sites Region N.C. Transportation Museum Roanoke Island Festival Park State Capitol West Historic Sites Region

Division of State History Museums Ken Howard, Director Administers the museums of the state by promoting the understanding of the history and material culture of North Carolina for the educational benefit of North Carolinians. Through collections and historical interpretation, its museums encourage citizens and visitors to explore and understand the past; to reflect on their own lives and their place in history; and to preserve state, regional, and local history for future generations. Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum Mountain Gateway Museum Museum of the Albemarle Museum of the Cape Fear Historical Complex N.C. Maritime Museum in Beaufort N.C. Maritime Museum in Southport N.C. Museum of History Visit the Historical Publications website at www.ncdcr.gov/about/history/historical-publications.