pietrusza on the year of six presidents

Growing up, I was never a history buff. I'm still not. But with Ethan getting more and more into history -- especially when it deals with interesting personalities, I've found myself going with him to talks by biographers, historians and pundits. The latest -- that is, the latest that I attended with him -- was up in Plymouth Notch, Vermont (where Calvin Coolidge was born, sworn in as President and buried).

David Pietrusza was talking about the 1920 election, which he wrote about in his 2008 book, 1920: The Year of the Six Presidents.* Ethan and I had seen him talk about the subject before -- a month or so ago we caught the talk in Northampton, Massachusetts. I'm not sure what I can say to recommend the talk enough -- especially since you can watch the video (that's me asking a couple questions at about the 51 minute mark). But, if actions speak louder than words, keep in mind that, having already heard him Pietrusza talk on the subject, Ethan and I drove four hours each way to hear it again.

*The six presidents referred to in the title (as Pietrusza explains) are Teddy Roosevelt, Wilson, Harding, Coolidge, Hoover and Franklin Roosevelt. Watch the talk (or read the book) to understand why.

on the study of history and societal heroes

On Monday, Ethan and I were at the Penn Club of New York, watching a panel discussion titled "Is History a Thing of the Past?" This was part of the University of Edinburgh's 300 Years of History celebration. For clarity's sake, The University is over 400 years old. But this celebration is to mark the 300th anniversary of the appointment of Charles Mackie as the university's first history professor.

The panel discussion featured Professor Joanne Freeman (Yale University), Ms. Abena Boakyewa-Ansah* (Vanderbilt University), Professor Ewen Cameron (University of Edinburgh), Professort Frank Cogliano (University of Edinburgh) and Dr. Gayle Lewis (University of Edinburgh).

The major point of the discussion was that history matters because it helps to put current events into context -- both in terms of explaining why we are where we are and as a comparative. Freeman, an expert on early US history, noted that she is often asked if today's rancorous political environment is the worst this country has ever gone through. This point gave Boakyewa-Ansah, whose field is the Civil War, cause to chuckle. It also ties into Freeman's recent book, The Field of Blood: Violence in Congress and the Road to Civil War. Freeman noted that, when people ask about how the current climate stacks up against the past, they usually fall into one of two camps: those who want reassurance that things aren't so bad and those who, for prurient reasons, want to think that the world of today is uniquely bad.

But my favorite part of  the talk came during the Q&A when Cogliano, responding to my question, did a good job ofcrystalizing an issue I've been thinking a lot about. During the talk, there were repeated references to the current phenomenon of removing statues of people who are now deemed unworthy. Christopher Columbus' name came up of course, and so did Thomas Jefferson who, despite having written the Declaration of Independencewhich declares that "all men are created equal" owned slaves.

The issue of statues and their removal is something I've grappled with recently, as I try to determine what I think. I recognize that we don't want to honor racism and other hateful ideologies**, but all people were human, and if we expect everyone to withstand a purity test in order be honored (or to ahve their honors stand), then we will be left with no statues, no iconic heores. And I think that, on some level, a society needs heroes in order to believe in itself. It all relates to whether people in a society believe that the society is fundamentally good (even if flawed) or if they believe the flaws make it beyond redemption. If the latter, then a society is doomed. I asked there's a danger in society holding its icons up to impossible standards and finding them, one after the other, to be unworthy.

More and more I've been coming toward a conclusion that what's crucial is what a person is known for - what his or her defining attributes are. If someone was racist or antisemitic, but is known for some major positive contribution to society, then that's what's crucial. Abraham Lincoln believed that blacks were inferior to whites. But he remains a hero because he's primarily remembered for freeing the slaves and holding the republic together. In the case of Jefferson, Cogliano pointed out that, flawed though he was, he authored this country's founding document -- a document which is still a fundamental part of our cultural DNA.

Hearing these historians talk about their views of history and the importance of understanding history was almost enough to make me wish I'd gone into that field decades ago. And if Ethan ultimately decides to be a historian, that will be a good choice for him.

*Boakyewa-Ansah, the only panelist without a PhD, is a graduate student working toward that degree.
**As a point of reference, I attended a high school named after a virulent antisemite. I knew it when I attended and saw his larger-than-life portrait over the stairs every day. While I wasn't crazy about the name, it didn;t consume me. And I emerged from that school none the worse for it. 

ethan's essay has unexpected meaning

A family friend issued a writing challenge to Ethan. Now they take turns picking topics, and each one writes an essay. The friend, a former teacher, grades Ethan's essays.

The current question is whether President Truman was justified in using nuclear weapons against Japan in World War II.

Ethan's essay is here.

The day after Ethan posted it, he and I went to visit my mother in Atlanta. Talking about family history, mom mentioned that her father, born in 1914, had been exempted from the draft during World War II because he had a family. By the summer of 1945 that had changed. With the military planning an invasion of Japan, grandpa was expecting to be drafted and go off to war. But the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki altered the course of events.

So the topic has unexpected immediacy for me.

d-day + 74

In honor D-Day, I am sharing this post from PJMedia:

Six Facts you didn't know about D-Day

out-smart-alecked

Ethan was sharing random facts about Presidents, and mentioned that James Buchanan was the only President who never married. He then noted that Grover Cleveland was the only other one who was a bachelor when he entered the White House*

Trying to be clever, I noted that that means we had three presidents who were bachelors when they became president. I was, of course, hanging my hat on the fact that Grover Cleveland was two presidents (numbers number 22 and 24).

Ethan got a puzzled look. Then he realized what I was on about -- he's seen me make similar points -- and got an annoyed look on his face. I was feeling pretty smug.

Then Ethan pointed out that Cleveland was married by the time of his second election.

He beat me at my own game...

*There were others who were widowers, but that's another matter.

d-day + 73

Barely a week after Memorial Day, we mark the 73rd anniversary of D-Day.


I can't adequately comprehend what our young soldiers were thinking and feeling as they approached the beach, ready or readying to battle the Nazis for a foothold. And I won't try. If you want, or need an account of the horror, read S.L.A. Marshall's account from the November, 1960, issue of The Atlantic.


Nevertheless, in an era when it is easy to take what we have for granted, it is important to remember the sacrifices se you men made so that it could be so.

nostalgia for an old station name

UPDATED BELOW.

On one of my recent morning commutes I started wondering about one of the stops. "Court Square, 23rd Street" on the E and M lines. I have gone through the station many, many times. In addition to being part of my commute now, the station was part of my regular commute when I was in high school. Only, then it had a different name. Back then it was "23rd Street, Ely Avenue."

And that's what got me to wondering. Some time during my years at my current home, the station changed names, but I can't recall when or why. And the bright mosaics on the station walls still call the place by it's old name. So, why was Ely Avenue banished from the station name? And when did this all happen. And who was "Ely" whose name was lent to an avenue and (for a time) a subway station?

A little research on the intertubes...

The renaming -- which, frankly, I don't remember -- happened in 2011 when free transfers were built to connect the station to the Court Square stations on the 7 and G trains. Didn't at least one of these used to be called "Court House Road" or something like that? Whatever, I've done enough rerearch for the night. As for Ely Avenue, apparently 23rd Street is Ely Avenue. Or was, anyway. It was renamed in 1915 when the Queens Topographic Bureau gave many streets numbers in 1915. What makes this peculiar is that that line wasn't built until the 1930s, so it seems odd to me that they put Ely Avenue in the name.

But what's really sad? I can't find reference to who "Ely" was.

I'll just assume it was Harry Ely. He
was a pitcher for the 1892 Baltimore Orioles.

UPDATE: An old friend from grad school -- Ray Comas -- infoms me that "Ely" is Charles Ely, who developed Hunter's Point in the 1850's. Hunter's Point would merge with other towns to form Long Island City. ALso, I assume that "Hunter's Point Avenue" is named after it. I'm actually kind of disappointed that it wasn't Harry Ely, as I'd sort of gotten emotionally invested in that. But I suppose it was a long shot. Thanks, Ray!

kennedy socks it to pan am

In honor of the 25th anniversary of Pan Am ceasing operations, I present President Kennedy when he was furious at the airline.

OK. It's not as interesting as President Johnson ordering clothing, but still..

the long island motor parkway: exploring a new discovery

The Long Island Motor Parkway will always be in my mind as a part of my childhood. That's because

The end of the bike trail, at Union Turnpike and Winchester Boulevard

a part of it formed a bicycle path from Cunningham Park (near my home) to Alley Pond Park (a few miles away). That section formed a bicycle path, running through suburban Queens, which my sister, my father and I rode quite often. Together and apart. We called that section "The Bike Path." Short and sweet.

The bike path, or at least the paved part of it that we used, began just East of the Clearview Expressway and North of Union Turnpike. It ran Eastward, through the trees between rows of backyards. There were a few access points -- one at Bell Blvd, and one at Springfield Blvd. It crossed those North-South Boulevards via bridges. It entered Alley Pond Park a few blocks East of Springfield Blvd, and then swept downward. There was a gentle curve to the right, then down under the Grand Central Parkway. It continued downhill, sweeping back to the left. Then, further down, you could see Union Turnpike to your right and the fields of Alley Pond Park to your left. Finally, it starts climbing, and you reach a dead end atop an embankment. Facing Winchester Blvd, you've reached the end. The embankment is there because the LIMP used to continue on to the East, crossing Winchester Blvd. via bridge, and going through what is now Creedmor Psychiatric Center.

I haven't been on that path in years, but it remains a part of my childhood memories.

I was unaware that there is a historical society dedicated to researching the LIMP, and preserving its history. I guess it stands to reason, but the thought had never crossed my mind. At any rate, this past Saturday I found myself on Creedmor's grounds because of an advertised event -- a walk to explore the first new discovery about the LIMP in years. So Asher and I went to see what the hoohah was all about.

Asher at the tunnel entrance

The discovery was an underground walkway, crossing under Union Turnpike. We gathered at the North entrance, a nondescript weathered staircase on the hospital grounds. We could walk down the stairs, but the actual walkway was closed off by a locked door. We could peer through the door and see a long damp corridor with a hint of light at the other end. Howard Kroplick, a historian with the Long Island Motor Parkway preservation Society was talking about the LIMP and the underground walkway. He explained that the other end, located south of Union Turnpike was grated up. But the staff at Creedmor goes through the tunnel periodically to make sure all is OK.

This kind of puzzled me. The tunnel was a new discovery? How did that make sense? The entrance was maybe ten yards from the parking lot. The entrance to the tunnel was walled up with a locked door. The other end was grated shut. And Creedmor's staff goes through it periodically to check that it's sound. That didn't jibe.

Kroplick (or someone else -- I forget) explained that the staff at Creedmor knew of the tunnel since forever. But they didn't know that it had anything to do with the LIMP, and the Preservation Society was unaware of its existence.

There were blueprints out, and we could walk down to take a peak at the tunnel entrance. Kroplick told us stories of his time chasing LIMP-related history. My favorite story involved the building of a new bicycle path at Bethpage State Park. Workers found parkway under the surface of the ground, and realized there had been a road there. The Preservation Society was called in to investigate before construction of the bike path continued. I enjoyed the irony of Kroplick complaining that they had paved over the road.

All was going well. Asher and I were having a good time. Then the police arrived.