If you want to get a look at some of the goods the Library of Congress is trotting out for the bicentennial, then check out this news story.
Monthly Archives: February 2009
If you want to do something to celebrate the Lincoln bicentennial on Feb. 12 but you can’t make it to Hodgenville, Washington, or Springfield, don’t despair. If you’ll be within driving distance of the Cumberland Gap area, why not attend the special program at the Abraham Lincoln Library and Museum? “Let Us Praise Famous Men” is a presentation on Lincoln in films by Dr. Liz Murphy Thomas of the University of Illinois-Springfield. There will be two showings, one at 10:00 A.M. and one at 4:30 P.M.
While you’re there, you can scope out the museum’s fantastic Lincoln-Civil War collection and see the special exhibit on Lincoln in memory.
I’d like to humbly direct your attention to a bit of housekeeping. One of the interesting things about a blog is the fact that it’s organic. It grows along with its writer, and as you feel your way through it, you’re able to go back and make adjustments from time to time. I’ve found it necessary to make one now.
For some time, I’ve had a “Museums” category that I think I’ve neglected a little. Given my background in museums, I’d like to explore public history subjects more extensively, but it seems to me that the “Museums” heading is too narrow to encompass some of these topics, such as historic sites and preservation. I’ve accordingly replaced it with the more inclusive “Museums and Historic Sites.”
I’ve also decided to eliminate the awkward “Battlefields” category. It was a sort of catch-all heading for posts dealing with military history sites. I’m re-assigning most of these posts to the new “Museums and Historic Sites” group, where they belong. “Battlefields” posts that don’t fit there will remain under their other designations—American Revolution, Civil War, and so on.
I realize that most of you could’ve done without this explanation, but I’m rather obsessive-compulsive, and it sure made me feel better.
Robert Ford, Democratic state senator from South Carolina, is trying to promote the celebration of Confederate Memorial Day. His bill would require the state’s county and city governments to make that day a paid holiday, or else lose some of their state funding.
Here’s the gag: Sen. Ford is black.
Oh, and he hopes his bill would help to foster inter-racial understanding, as well as an appreciation of South Carolina’s history. Because, hey, nothing brings blacks and whites together like a public policy debate over Confederate heritage.
Check out this news story for more details.
I spent about a year living in central Kentucky, and one of the things that always interested me was the fact that the Bluegrass State has really embraced its frontier period. The sites of the old eighteenth-century stations and settlements are state parks, and their special events are big hits with people living in the area. Most bookstores carry Allan Eckert’s “Winning of America” narratives, in which Kentucky heroes like Daniel Boone (seen at right in a portrait by Chester Harding) and Simon Kenton figure prominently. Signs along the driveway of Frankfort Cemetery direct curious visitors to Boone’s grave, and each and every time I visited the spot, other people were there to take pictures. (I’m assuming, of course, that Frankfort really is Boone’s final resting place. There’s an ongoing feud between Kentucky and Missouri over that very question.)
Traces of the frontier in my home state of Tennessee are harder to find. While state parks mark a few important sites (Sycamore Shoals, for instance), many of the locations that figured prominently in Tennessee’s frontier era are indistinguishable from their modern surroundings, or are now underwater as a result of TVA activity.
If Boone is the leading man of Kentucky’s frontier story, then the hero of early Tennessee history is probably John Sevier, seen here in a portrait by Charles Wilson Peale. He commanded overmountain riflemen in an impressive series of victories against Indians and Tories during the Revolution (he was an architect of the King’s Mountain expedition), was the only governor of the short-lived Franklin movement and first governor of the Volunteer State, and represented Tennessee in the House of Representatives. He’s buried on the lawn of the Knox County Courthouse in downtown Knoxville. I’ve been to his grave countless times, and I’ve invariably had it to myself. Every Kentuckian knows Boone, and so do most Americans, but if I had a nickel for every time I’ve met a Tennessean who’d never heard of Sevier, I could retire now.
This contrast between commemoration in Kentucky and neglect in Tennessee isn’t just a matter of popular memory. It’s reflected in historiography, too. Meredith Mason Brown’s life of Boone hit the shelves a few months ago, only a year after the release of Robert Morgan’s Boone biography. Both of these works follow John Mack Faragher’s excellent Boone study by just about a decade and a half. The bibliography of the Tennessee frontier, however, is sparse indeed.
So why is Kentucky’s frontier era the stuff of legend, while Tennessee’s founding remains neglected? I think Boone himself has a lot to do with it. For one thing, he had a healthyhead start. Boone became the popular archetype of the typical frontiersman during his own lifetime, thanks to contemporary publicists and myth-makers.
Furthermore, Boone fit the frontier mold. He looked and acted the way we want frontiersmen to look and act; he was a hunter, a trailblazer, and a resltess and solitary soul who wasn’t really happy unless he was in the wilderness. Sevier also bore many of the stereotypical frontier characteristics—he built a remarkable record as an Indian fighter, respected by his fellow settlers as a dynamic man of action. But he also became a statesman and speculator, occupations which connote a taming and organization of the frontier, rather than a state of living in idyllic harmony with it.
The archetypal frontiersman, and the one who embodied what Americans want to believe about their frontier experience and its enduring legacy, remains forever associated with Kentucky, while Tennessee’s central frontier figure reminds us of the undeniable, recurring fact of the American frontier—it eventually ceased to exist. Maybe that helps to explain the distinction between the popularity of the frontier in Kentucky and its relative obscurity in Tennessee.
It’s unfortunate, both because the late eighteenth century was Tennessee’s formative period and because there is much in that period that is captivating. Sevier’s defense of Ft. Caswell rivals the siege of Ft. Boonesborough for drama; the tragic voyage of the Donelson party to the Cumberland settlements surpasses any trek up the Wilderness Road. There are more than enough highlights in the records of Tennessee’s founding era to weave a mythology that equals any state’s.