“Come All Ye Fair and Tender Ladies”: White Womanhood and Folk Song Collection in Early Twentieth Century America Aldona Ann Dye Honolulu, HI Bachelor of Arts, St. John’s College, 2010 Master of Fine Arts, Brandeis University, 2014 A Dissertation presented to the Graduate Faculty of the University of Virginia in Candidacy for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy Department of Music University of Virginia May 2021 Bonnie Gordon, Advisor Karl Hagstrom Miller Richard Will Michael Puri Sarah Milov Dye ii Abstract In the first decades of the twentieth century, a large number of middle- to upper-class white women did fieldwork collecting folk songs, yet the scope and impact of their work has remained largely unexplored in scholarly literature. To explore this phenomenon, this dissertation consults four archived collections of white women song collectors and organizations that relied on the song collecting work of white women: The Virginia Folklore Society of Charlottesville, VA; Annabel Morris Buchanan of Marion, VA; Ruby Pickens Tartt of Livingston, AL; and Helen Heffron Roberts, who did ethnographic work in Honolulu, HI. My research reveals that the daily lives of white women in the early twentieth century—who were involved in the teaching profession, held membership in women’s music clubs, oversaw the maintenance of their family homes, and for whom music-making was a part of their girlhood education—put them in proximity to folk songs and gave them the tools with which to apply to folk song collecting. This dissertation further identifies traditions of white womanhood, such as song transcription, amateur musicianship, and creative fiction writing, shaping the work of white women folk song collectors. “Come All Ye Fair and Tender Ladies”: White Womanhood and Folksong Collection in Early Twentieth Century America argues that these traditions of white womanhood, as they were used in the practice of song collecting reinforced structures of race, class, and gender, often explicitly in the service of maintaining a white supremacist culture and advancing the missives of American colonialism and imperialism. Ultimately, this dissertation cautions against a “white feminist” read of these song collectors and argues that exploration into the “women’s work” of folk song collecting both illuminates the structures of white womanhood in the early twentieth century and contributes a crucial component to the complex history and legacy of American folk song collection. Dye iii Acknowledgements This dissertation could not have made it to its current form without the support and guidance of a large network of people that I am immensely grateful to have in my life. Bonnie Gordon has been a fantastic advocate during my entire graduate school journey. She introduced me to the University of Virginia’s archive in my first year as a graduate student, and her work has consistently modeled the ways archive scholarship could be urgent and vibrant. As an advisor, Bonnie was my biggest cheerleader, championing my work in her own public speaking engagements and in more private conversations with her peers. When my post-PhD plans shifted away from the academy, Bonnie’s quick recognition and equally quick shift to brainstorming and encouraging new possibilities for my scholarship made me feel understood, inspired, and eager for the journey ahead. The faculty in the music department at UVa pushed me to think deeply and write clearly. Karl Hagstrom Miller’s graduate seminars broke down the structure of academic writing, from books reviews to monographs, giving me tools that have been valuable throughout graduate school and continue to inform the way I read and write. In meetings, Karl would respond to ideas with an enthusiastic “Yeah, man!” before loading me up with new books to read and new ways to push my ideas forward. It was in Richard Will’s seminar on folk music where I first discovered the Virginia Folklore Society, and during a subsequent comps exam on folk song collection he encouraged me to look for more women’s stories in the archives. Michael Puri always read my work carefully and brought a similar depth and thoroughness to our discussions in a way that reminded me of my earlier education at St. John’s College. The graduate students I’ve had the pleasure of knowing both as friends and as colleagues have modeled the way an academic community can be filled with support and encouragement rather than isolation and competition. The ways in which they have done this over the course of seven years are too numerous and intangible to put into words here, but my heartfelt gratitude goes out to Kyle Chattleton, Steven Lewis, Stephanie Gunst, Tracy Stewart, Victoria Clark, Stephanie Doktor, Craig Comen, Sophie Abramowitz, Maya Hislop, Sam Golter, Ryan Maguire, and many others who have made graduate school an experience of comraderie and solidarity. I am so excited to be in community with you all and to see our work and ideas travel beyond ourselves in ways we can’t even imagine right now. So much of the research for this dissertation took place in library archives, and I owe so much to the work and support of library staff. Steve Villereal was an early connection as someone else working on Virginia Folklore Society material, and has since become a friend. The staff at the Small Special Collections Library at UVa—primarily Penny, Heather, Ann, Krystal, and Regina—made me look forward to each new trip diving into the Virginia Folklore Society’s papers. Sheila Whitehead was a great resource and fantastic conversation partner when I traveled to Livingston, Alabama, to study Ruby Pickens Tartt’s papers at the University of Western Alabama. Todd Harvey and Nancy Groce at the Library of Congress’ American Folklife Center have been wonderful sources of knowledge and encouragement during my visits to the library and my presentation at the kickoff event for the LoC’s Women Documenting the World series. The special collections staff at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill—particularly Matt Turi and Aaron Smithers—encouraged my work on Annabel Morris Buchanan during a Dye iv short research trip and a subsequent month-long research fellowship. I cannot wait to get back in the library when I turn this dissertation into a book. Others lent their time and insight reading chapters of this dissertation, and for that I thank Tes Slominski and Danielle Fossler-Lucier. Lisa Goff’s public history internship program at UVa introduced me to the world of public history and connected me to several people who have opened my eyes and inspired me to seek new avenues for my scholarship. I extend a hearty appreciation to Ina Dixon and Sarah Milov, who were excellent mentors at the two internships I did through Dr. Goff’s program, and whose scholarship continues to excite and inspire me. I am happy to call the staff at The Haven my friends, and now my colleagues, and I am so grateful that I began volunteering there during some of my coldest nights. An additional thanks goes out to Elizabeth Smiley, who was my therapist during the last half of my graduate school journey, and who helped me to get curious about my self and my parts. My work and thinking owes as much to her as it does to my academic mentors and colleagues. My family and friends have been irreplaceable fountains of support throughout this whole journey, and it is thanks to them that I leave what can often be a solitary journey feeling connected and rooted in love. My parents, Tom Dye and Jun Look, my sister Veronica Dye, and my best friend Jennifer Roper delivered advice and encouragement that I felt in my soul in a way that you only get from those who have known and loved you deeply for a very long time. My partner Daniel Bachman sets my imagination ablaze and is always introducing me to new things that open my eyes and my heart to the beauty and depth in the world around us. I am so happy to be here with you all and I cannot wait to see what we build together. Dye 1 Introduction The Traipsin’ Woman, Jean Thomas’ semi-autobiographical account of the origins of the American Folk Song Festival, begins with a man propositioning a woman. The man is “the most famous criminal lawyer in the State of Kentucky,” the woman is a fictionalized version of Thomas herself (and the narrator of the story), and the proposition is a job offer as a court stenographer in a murder trial.1 Our narrator possesses the only skill needed for the job ("all you need to do is to write shorthand—and read it”) due to training from the only business school in the foothills of Blank County, likely a fictional stand-in for Thomas’ real home in Boyd County, Kentucky.2 She soon finds herself being carted up the mountains, her mind anxiously racing with thoughts of the violent, clannish mountain folk. “How, I wondered would these dangerous fellows look upon me, a woman court stenographer? Maybe they’d take matters into their own hands and put an end to me forthwith!”3 The narrator’s nerves are only slightly calmed by memories of her old music teacher, who had given her music and singing lessons and had taught her about old ballads. “There’s a wealth of ballads in these very mountains,” the music teacher had often said before regaling her eager student with stories of chivalry and strains from “the brown girl,” the “gypsy lady” and “the lady fair.”4 The music teacher’s guidance comes in handy during the narrator’s first night in the mountains, when she hears a young man with “a voice that might have packed the Metropolitan” singing a ballad that echoes 1 Jean Thomas, The Traipsin’ Woman (New York: E.P.