Arthur Thurner tells of the enormous struggle of the diverse immigrants who built and sustained energetic towns and communities, creating a lively civilization in what was essentially a forest wilderness. Their story is one of incredible economic success and grim tragedy in which mine workers daily risked their lives. By highlighting the roles women, African Americans, and Native Americans played in the growth of the Keweenaw community, Thurner details a neglected and ignored past. The history of Keweenaw Peninsula for the past one hundred and fifty years reflects contemporary American culture--a multicultural, pluralistic, democratic welfare state still undergoing evolution. Strangers and Sojourners, with its integration of social and economic history, for the first time tells the complete story of the people from the Keweenaw Peninsula's Baraga, Houghton, Keweenaw, and Ontonagon counties.
In the 1950s Centralia was a small town, like many others in the anthracite region of Pennsylvania. But since the 1960s, it has been consumed, outwardly and inwardly by a fire that has inexorably spread in the abandoned mines beneath it. The earth smokes, subsides, and breathes poisonous gases. No less destructive has been the spread of dissension and enmity among the townspeople. The Real Disaster Above Ground tells the story of the fire and the tragic failure of all efforts to counter it. This study of the Centralia fire represents the most thorough canvass of the documentary materials and the community that has appeared. The authors report on the futile efforts of residents to reach a common understanding of an underground threat that was not readily visible and invited multiple interpretations. They trace the hazard management strategies of government agencies that, ironically, all too often created additional threats to the welfare of Centralians. They report on the birth and demise of community organizations, each with its own solution to the problem and its diehard partisans. The final solution, now being put into effect, is to abandon the town and relocate its people. Centralia's environmental disaster, the authors argue, is not a local or isolated phenomenon. It warns of the danger lurking in our own technology when safeguards fail and disaster management policy is not in place to respond to failure, as the examples of Chernobyl and Bhopal have clearly demonstrated. The lessons in this study of the fate of a small town in Pennsylvania are indeed sobering. They should be pondered by a variety of social scientists and planners, by all those dealing with the behavior of people under stress and those responsible for the welfare of the public.
In 1920s Middle America, the Ku Klux Klan gained popularity not by appealing to the fanatical fringes of society, but by attracting the interest of “average” citizens. During this period, the Klan recruited members through the same unexceptional channels as any other organization or club, becoming for many a respectable public presence, a vehicle for civic activism, or the source of varied social interaction. Its diverse membership included men and women of all ages, occupations, and socio-economic standings. Although surviving membership records of this clandestine organization have proved incredibly rare, Everyday Klansfolk uses newly available documents to reconstruct the life and social context of a single grassroots unit in Newaygo County, Michigan. A fascinating glimpse behind the mask of America’s most notorious secret order, this absorbing study sheds light on KKK activity and membership in Newaygo County, and in Michigan at large, during the brief and remarkable peak years of its mass popular appeal.
They're Minnesota's smallest towns, but they have huge character! Experience the rich stories, histories and cultures of 100 charming small towns, with populations from 5 to 141. And meet the friendly people who call these places home. Each entry in the book features folks who know what it means to help their neighbors and locales that range from quaint to historic. It's one book, and it's one hundred towns to love.
This ambitious work chronicles 250 years of the Cromartie family genealogical history. Included in the index of nearly fifty thousand names are the current generations, and all of those preceding, which trace ancestry to our family patriarch, William Cromartie, who was born in 1731 in Orkney, Scotland, and his second wife, Ruhamah Doane, who was born in 1745. Arriving in America in 1758, William Cromartie settled and developed a plantation on South River, a tributary of the Cape Fear near Wilmington, North Carolina. On April 2, 1766, William married Ruhamah Doane, a fifth-generation descendant of a Mayflower passenger to Plymouth, Stephen Hopkins. If Cromartie is your last name or that of one of your blood relatives, it is almost certain that you can trace your ancestry to one of the thirteen children of William Cromartie, his first wife, and Ruhamah Doane, who became the founding ancestors of our Cromartie family in America: William, Jr, James, Thankful, Elizabeth, Hannah Ruhamah, Alexander, John, Margaret Nancy, Mary, Catherine, Jean, Peter Patrick, and Ann E. Cromartie. These four volumes hold an account of the descent of each of these first-generation Cromarties in America, including personal anecdotes, photographs, copies of family bibles, wills, and other historical documents. Their pages hold a personal record of our ancestors and where you belong in the Cromartie family tree.
This book is the product of Donald Akenson's decades of research and writing on Irish social history and its relationship to the Irish diaspora - it is also the product of a lifetime of trying to figure out where Swedish-America actually came from, and why. These two matters, Akenson shows, are intimately related. Ireland and Sweden each provide a tight case study of a larger phenomenon, one that, for better or worse, shaped the modern world: the Great European Diaspora of the "true" nineteenth century. Akenson's book parts company with the great bulk of recent emigration research by employing sharp transnational comparisons and by situating the two case studies in the larger context of the Great European Migration and of what determines the physics of a diaspora: no small matter, as the concept of diaspora has become central to twenty-first-century transnational studies. He argues (against the increasing refusal of mainstream historians to use empirical databases) that the history community still has a lot to learn from economic historians; and, simultaneously, that (despite the self-confidence of their proponents) narrow, economically based explanations of the Great European Migration leave out many of the most important aspects of the whole complex transaction. Akenson believes that culture and economic matters both count, and that leaving either one on the margins of explanation yields no valid explanation at all.
Franciscan monk Fr. Junipero Serra, founder of the Spanish mission system in California, raised a cross on the beach on March 31, 1782, at a spot that became a general wayfarer's midpoint between Los Angeles and Point Conception. This was the dedication of Mission San Buenaventura. Bordered by rivers out of the foothills, this coastal area had originally been home to many Chumash Indian villages, dating back to 1000 A.D. The small mission outpost quickly flourished and eventually grew into a town complete with dirt streets, wooden sidewalks, saloons, churches, and various adventures and calamities. On March 10, 1866, the "City of Good Fortune" incorporated and received one of the first charters from the then 16-year-old, 31st state in the union. Today the city of Ventura bustles with more than 110,000 residents and is known as the "Gateway to the Channel Islands."