The Problem of Race and Class Among New Orleans Creoles and Across the South, 1718-1862
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
Louisiana State University LSU Digital Commons LSU Doctoral Dissertations Graduate School 2015 Skin Color and Social Practice: The rP oblem of Race and Class Among New Orleans Creoles and Across the South, 1718-1862 Andrew N. Wegmann Louisiana State University and Agricultural and Mechanical College, [email protected] Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.lsu.edu/gradschool_dissertations Part of the History Commons Recommended Citation Wegmann, Andrew N., "Skin Color and Social Practice: The rP oblem of Race and Class Among New Orleans Creoles and Across the South, 1718-1862" (2015). LSU Doctoral Dissertations. 1332. https://digitalcommons.lsu.edu/gradschool_dissertations/1332 This Dissertation is brought to you for free and open access by the Graduate School at LSU Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in LSU Doctoral Dissertations by an authorized graduate school editor of LSU Digital Commons. For more information, please [email protected]. SKIN COLOR AND SOCIAL PRACTICE: THE PROBLEM OF RACE AND CLASS AMONG NEW ORLEANS CREOLES AND ACROSS THE SOUTH, 1718-1862 A Dissertation Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of the Louisiana State University and Agricultural and Mechanical College in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in The Department of History by Andrew N. Wegmann B.A. Spring Hill College, 2008 M.A. Louisiana State University, 2010 May 2015 To my parents, Julie-Ann and Richard Wegmann, who took me to see the world, allowed me to experience an impossible sense of love and compassion, and gave me the only life I would ever want. This is for them, many years later, for the love, hope, and happiness I will never be able to repay. ii “The boy is a palimpsest of paint— layers of color, history rendering him that precise shade of in-between. Before this he was nothing: blank canvas—before image or word, before a last brush stroke fixed him in his place.” - Natasha Trethewey, “Taxonomy,” Thrall iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I have waited to write these words, more than any of the others, for many years. When I started this process, I would read the acknowledgements of books, theses, and dissertations, and wonder what it felt like to finish something so massive, something requiring so many “thank yous” and names and lists and places. I now, finally and with a heavy heart, know that feeling. And I am not entirely sure what to do. Beyond most every person in my life, my parents, Julie-Ann and Richard Wegmann, mean the most—and not only because they gave me, literally, the opportunity to write these words, have these thoughts, and the breathe the air I breathe. It goes much further with them. Although this is my only life, it is, as I wrote in the dedication, the only one I could ever want. In their own strange and brilliant ways, they taught me how to think, how to smile and mean it, how to love like nothing else matters in the world. It was unshakable, and still is. They drove me around the world, let me see what I could never imagine, and, from a very early age, taught to open my eyes, listen for a second, and take a deep breath, even when I didn’t know that I wanted to. There is a reason most of my memories appear in the daylight. My mother is goodness. She is love. She is light. Her life, and all that has made it, gives me a sense of hope and optimism that makes streams of waves. I don’t think I know the kind of love she feels. It is a special love, a love that settles and expands throughout a room, or a home, or a city. It is everything I have ever wanted, and it is all I have ever received. My father worked too hard to make my life easy. He will say, “That’s what you do when you love someone.” But I could never possibly deserve the kindness, empathy, iv and generosity he has given me. He taught me humility and altruism, dedication and passion, and his honest interest in my work has been both surprising and inexplicably meaningful. Everything I wrote, I wrote with him in mind; and in many ways, that is what got me to writing these words. My brother, Matt, is an interesting story. Himself having a PhD, he always understood when it was time for a beer and a complaint. He saw me through the darkness, and brought me up to breathe, and has always stood as that talisman in the distance, that sense of home that makes each step count, even when strength is gone. He brings passion to each movement, joy to each word. He is unbridled dedication. He is the perfect kind of crazy. He is what I need when I need it. He is fire. He is wisdom. It is perfect. I like to talk. I like to write. But now, when thinking of my wife, Maia, words turn to feeling. I never thought the world could handle a person like her—someone so brilliant and beautiful and kind and bright. Her love and life extend beyond what I thought possible before I met her that January night in the parking lot in which, two years later, I would ask her to marry me. She has given me a sense of comfort and home that shouldn’t be possible outside of family; but that is what makes it so real. She doesn’t need to do anything she does for me. But she does, everyday, with heart. She has taught me what it means to love. She has taught me to appreciate the sun, and light, and laughter, and joy. She is my joy. She is each smile and song and ray of sunlight. She is everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner, in a wife, in a friend. I am glad to know that I have, and will always, live a life of happiness with her. Without that, I would not have finished this project. I would not have cared enough. But I did, and I do, and I love it because of her. v Geoff Cunningham, Terry Wagner, and Spencer McBride went into this process with me, and we are finally finishing it together. From Thursdays at Geoff’s apartment and listening to vinyl all night with Terry, to theses, “Generals,” and dissertations, we kept each other sane and smiling when everything seemed impossible. They turned a stressful time into an adventure, and for that I am ever grateful. They mean the world to me. I am also indebted, beyond words, work, hours, and days, to my advisor, Andrew Burstein. From my very first semester at LSU, he took me as a friend, apprentice, and colleague, and taught me more than the lot of my education to that point. His legacy, in ways both obvious and known only to him and me, is in these words, and I am very proud of that. To a similar degree Nancy Isenberg also shaped this project, as well as my time at LSU. Her keen eye was, and remains, a wonder of the natural world, and I am fortunate to have worked with her since, literally, my very first class in graduate school. This dissertation is much better as a result. Aaron Sheehan-Dean, Gibril Cole, Suzanne Marchand, Carolyn Lewis, Alecia Long, Drew Cayton, Cinnamon Brown, Rebecca Mergenthal, Eric Burin, Ben Wright, Tom Ward, Matt Spooner, Paul Polgar, Caree Banton, Jennifer Spear, Rebecca Scott, Doug Egerton, Julie Winch, Martha Jones, Kirt von Daacke, and Jay Gitlin, just to name a few, have all, in their own ways and at different times, lent a helping hand to this project, and I thank them all very much. Additional sincere and unabashed thanks also go specifically to Chris Willoughby, Alix Riviere, Greg Weimer, Matt Sullivan, and Ben Mackin, all good friends who have remained constant emotional, intellectual, and social companions for many years now. vi In other lands, professional and scholarly, I must thank the numerous archives and archivists who helped me find the seemingly unfindable. First and foremost, I thank the inimitable Greg Osborn at New Orleans Public Library–Main Branch. His encyclopedic knowledge of the Creoles of color led me to countless sources I would never have found on my own. Over the process of researching this work, Greg became a good friend, and I thank him for his kindness, his expertise, and the dozens of conversations over lunch and beer. Also at NOPL, Irene Wainwright and Yvonne Loiselle helped me with sincerity and dedication. Harlan Greene at the College of Charleston Special Collections led me through the nuances of the Brown Fellowship Society, while Deborah Wright at the Avery Research Center provided fascinating conversation and let me see more collections than I could ever have imagined. I also must thank the staffs at the South Carolina Historical Society, and the Charleston County Public Library for their help in untangling the lives of the Brown Elite. Edward Gaynor at the Library of Virginia first showed me around, then tirelessly worked to find some of the most valuable collections I used in this study. Frances Pollard, Nelson Lankford, and especially Jim McClure made my time at Virginia Historical Society one of the most productive and enjoyable of my life. They also provided me with an Andrew W. Mellon Fellowship, which allowed me to spend an enormous amount of time at their facility free of stress and financial want. I appreciate that a great deal.