Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Presidential Names

Hooray for the Obama family!

Americans love a naming trend and they love to show their patriotism. Thus, a new president's name often gets a bump in the Social Security charts after he is elected. For example, "Grover" was #410 in 1880, but jumped to #20 during the election of 1884 and stayed in the top 100 for a decade. "Woodrow" was obscure (#1049) in 1900, but hit #46 in 1912. "Franklin" hovered between #119 and #187 for the first 32 years of the 20th century, but rocketed up to #33 in 1933. Obviously, it's difficult to see any appreciable bumps after the election of a William or a John, but I think we will probably see "Barack" break into the top 1000 soon enough.

In honor of our new president, I took a look through the census records and found lots of little Americans who have been named for our presidents. Unsurprisingly, they often travel in sets.



*After Hoover, it gets a little tricky because the post-1930 census records are not available yet. Ancestry makes some state birth records available, so I have used these, along with some marriage records, to find presidential names after Hoover. Unfortunately, the lack of census records makes it difficult to find matched sets of siblings.

Presidents! (Part I)

For a brief introduction to the "Presidential Names" series, click here.

George Washington McDowell, Morgan Co., AL, b. 1855
(bonus: brother Lafayette)

John Adams Funderburgh, Big Sandy Creek, TX, b. 1854
(bonus: brother named George Washington Funderburgh)

Thomas Jefferson Blake, Versailles, OH, b. 1834
(bonus: brother James Knox Polk Blake, sister Julia Ann Missouri Blake)
 

James Madison Justice, Volusia, FL, b. 1859:

James Monroe Phimister, Richmond, CA, b. 1917:

John Quincy Adams Wiggins, North Hero, MN, b. 1856:

The Onomastic Choices of Martha and Samuel T. Sappington

While working with the census the other day, I came across the Sappington family of Columbus, Mississippi. First of all, +5 for a great last name.

Martha and Samuel T. Sappington were endowed with fertile minds as well as fertile loins. Between 1838 and 1860, they had at least 8 children. While many modern parents save the flights of fancy for their daughters, the Sappingtons gave their sons matched names:

daughters:
Imogene, b. 1838
Caroline, b. 1844
Hermina, b. 1848

sons:
Devilla, b. 1839
Voltaire, b. 1846
Rousseau, b. 1851
Hume, b. 1853
Lucifer, b. 1859

We've seen this before with the Shattuck family (sons Africa, America, Asia, and Europe) and I'll be on the lookout for more examples. I am acquainted with a family with matched-name daughters (Ariel, Belle, Cinderella, and Aurora) and now I can tell them that matched sets are nothing new in American naming history.

Here's the page from the 1860 Census (little Lucifer is on the next page):
I wonder if there were any children between Hume (b. 1853) and Lucifer (b. 1859) who did not survive. What names might be missing?

Does anyone with a better grasp of the history of philosophy know who "Devilla" might be? Or is the inclusion of "Devilla" and "Lucifer" a comment on what the Sappingtons thought of European philosophers?

Voltaire and Devilla Sappington both served in Co. K (the Columbus Rifles) of the 14th Mississippi Infantry (C.S.A) during the Civil War.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Happy Inauguration Day!

Congratulations, President Obama!
I honor you with this army of cupcakes.
Pete has approved this message.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Yetisburg

Pete and I play a lot of board/card games in the evenings when I'm not up to my eyeballs in work. When I'm done with my current crop of essays (soon, I hope!), I'm looking forward to purchasing this one:

The sequel features zombies and is called "Dismembering the Alamo."

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Google Books Finger Watch

I caught one!

"I Come From Vikings"

For Christmas this year, Pete and I bought our families DNA tests from Ancestry.com. There are two kinds of tests: Y-chromosome tests (father's father's line) and mitochondrial DNA tests (mother's mother's line). My family hasn't taken them yet, but Pete's has and we just got the first round of results.

It turns out that Pete's Y chromosome belongs to the R1a haplogroup, which is actually slightly surprising. We've been trying to trace Pete's paternal line genealogically, and have succeeded in placing his paternal ancestors in Wales in the early-mid 18th century. Since almost everyone with British ancestry is in haplogroup R1b, I wasn't expecting anything else.

R1a distribution in Europe:
R1b distribution in Europe:
Here's what Ancestry says about R1a:
Today the R1a1 haplogroup can be found in high frequencies among groups living in the Ukraine, Russia, the Czech Republic and Poland. Haplogroup R1a1 is also found at rates of 50% in Ashkenazi Jewish populations, who ultimately settled in the Rhineland, now Germany, and have a deep and detailed contemporary history.
Other places where many men have the R1a Y chromosome: Northern India, Afghanistan, and Tajikistan.

According to the wisdom of the internet and at least one named source, this Y chromosome result is "the only unequivocal indicator of Viking ancestry in Britain." More sophisticated tests and additional genealogical work might tell us whether this is believable in Pete's case, but he's not waiting on further investigations. He's been dancing around declaring, "I come from Vikings" and suggesting potential Viking-y names for our hypothetical future children.


There'll be no living with him after this.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Happy Birthday, Graham!

My brother is 20 today.

Graham is the middle child of five, so I actually had to look for a while before I found any pictures of him that weren't "littlest of the bigs" or "biggest of the littles" shots. The photo at right looks to be his fourth or fifth birthday and honors his irrational love of all things Aladdin-related. My mom made that cake, which, in retrospect, was pretty awesome.

I don't remember much from the day Graham was born, other than that I wore a pink-and-white striped dress to the hospital to visit him. He was such a quiet, mild-mannered little guy — I know he must have cried sometimes, but I don't remember him ever being anything but the happiest of babies.
Whenever we look through family pictures, someone always comments on Graham's baby pictures because he was always so inexplicably clean. There will be pictures where the rest of us are covered in mud or ice cream or frosting and Graham's clothes and face will be in pristine condition. I think we once found a picture of him with some spaghetti sauce on his nose and we had it framed.

Here we are — Ben, me, and Graham — in Maine ca. 1991:

Gettysburg, also 1991 (cousin Emily, me, Ben, Graham). This is before we got into serious Civil War reenacting, so our outfits are a little goofy. That Jeb Stuart hat of Graham's is particularly attractive.
So, anyway, happy birthday, Graham. Hope you're having a splendid celebration.

Learning to Read in Puritan New England

Between the end of the 17th and the end of the 19th century, most New Englanders learned to read from The New England Primer. This book included an alphabet, short passages, and a catechism (John Cotton's Spiritual Milk for Babes).

You can find the illustrated alphabet on the wikipedia page. Note that there are only 24 letters (I/J and U/V are combined). You may recognize some of the couplets:

A:
In Adam's fall,
We sinned all.
B:
Thy life to mend,
This Book attend.
F:
The idle Fool
Is whipt at school.

In one section, pupils are given lists of words with the same syllable count. The monosyllablic words are fairly tame (God, child, grace, knit), as are the disyllabic words(boldly, father, husband), but things get a little strange in the 3+ categories. Here are the first four trisyllabic words from the 1727 version:
Abusing
Bewitching
Confounded
Drunkenness
Cheery, no? The polysyllabic lists aren't quite as dreary, though you will find "Discontented" in the four-syllable list and "Fornication" on the five-syllable list.
The primer also includes some short prayers, such as the well-known "Now I lay me down to sleep. . ." For obvious reasons, I found this one more interesting:
I In the Burying place may see
Graves shorter there than I;
From Death's arrest no age is free,
Young children too may die.
My God, may such an awful sight
Awakening be to me!
Oh! that by early Grace I might
For Death prepared be.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Mmmmm, Abortion Doughnuts

Delicious.

Breastfeeding Daguerreotypes

While reading Jill Lepore's Baby Food yesterday, I was reminded of the Schlesinger Library's small collection of beautiful daguerreotypes featuring breastfeeding women and their babies (ca. 1850-1860).

There are three images, but they are quite difficult to find (the "Daguerreotypes at Harvard" homepage is a mess). To see all three, go to this page and type "breastfeeding" into the first search box. The daguerreotypes should be results 3-5 on the first page of results.

Mother's Milk

Jill Lepore's new essay on breastfeeding in The New Yorker has raised a few hackles in the feminist blogosphere, but I think it's brilliant.

Lepore traces the history of breastfeeding from the 18th century to the present, explaining how nursing waxed and waned in popularity along with ideological shifts. When the cult of domesticity was in, breastfeeding was big. When Freud argued that "infants experience suckling as sexual pleasure," not so much.

Lepore is also sensitive to the ways in which race and class have shaped perceptions of breastfeeding. At the turn of the 20th century, wealthy white women gave up breastfeeding because they associated with the animalism commonly attributed to the poor and women of color. Doctors even did "scientific" studies to show that white women were so highly evolved that their milk was less nutritious than animal milk or milk from "lower" women. Lepore covers a lot of ground, but she does so concisely.

Her main point is that the modern focus on pumping or "expressing" milk is part of a move toward treating breast milk as a medicine or magical elixir and that the relentless focus on making pumping easier for working women actually precludes a more radical approach to making motherhood and work outside the home more compatible. If NOW and the federal government and the state legislatures are all doing their best to reward companies that have comfortable pumping rooms, they aren't fighting for more substantial changes, like paid family leave or on-site infant care. Lepore cuttingly observes that many corporate pumping rooms explicitly ban infants. These rooms are not meant to make it easier for women and babies to be together — they are meant to make it easier for companies to argue that they have family-friendly workplaces that are not really family friendly. Another (implicit) point is that only affluent mothers can find even these minor concessions in the workplace and NOW's capitulation in making pumping-friendly workplaces their #1 priority on this issue hurts poor women (who stand to gain the most from federally-mandated paid family leave for all workers).

The line that has garnered the most outrage from feminist critics is Lepore's question, "When did 'women’s rights' turn into 'the right to work'?" Some bloggers, apparently unaware of the Orwellian overtones of 'right to work' in a labor history context, have drastically misinterpreted Lepore's meaning here. They seem to think that Lepore is calling women's right to work outside the home trivial, when what she is really saying is that corporations have seized the framing of this issue in such a way that even NOW concedes that a pumping room that isn't a bathroom is a family-friendly policy. In reality, the focus on pumping is a way for corporations to force mothers to conform to corporate standards, rather than making corporations change to suit parent-workers.

Over at Salon, Kate Harding (who is generally very insightful) jumps overboard and misses the ocean on this one:
Oh my god, are you kidding me? Even if I'm as generous as possible in trying to understand Lepore's point here -- which apparently has to do with the value of mother-child bonding and the resultant need for longer maternity leave -- implying that the hard-won right to work outside the home ought to be regarded as a comparatively trivial concern by the National Organization for Women is throwing the baby out with the leftover expressed milk.
That is not the point at all. In this context, "right to work" does not mean "the hard-won right to work outside the home," it means "the right of corporations and government to force every adult to work under a rigid corporate regime." Historically, "right to work" has been a phrase connected to union-busting, wage-reduction, and forced labor. In the 19th century, government and corporate power teamed up to interpret the "right to contract" as meaning that any able-bodied man without a "visible means of support" could be arrested and forced to work withut compensation (I recommend Amy Dru Stanley's article, "Beggars Can't Be Choosers: Compulsion and Contract in Postbellum America" in the JAH, 1992). Harding misses these associations entirely and bizarrely concludes that Lepore is arguing that "Mommy should stay home." That is a shockingly obtuse misreading of Lepore's nuanced argument.

Maybe the problem is that all the "Mommy wars" crap that focuses on blaming/shaming/judging is written so narrowly that people expect any essay on a related subject to be just as bad. It's difficult to make a thoughtful point if the audience is looking for key words that will help it identify the argument with a position that comes with lots of associations already attached. I've found this to be the case when talking to people who are skeptical about TFA — bring up the quality of traditional teacher education and you are automatically a "teacher hater," never mind any point you might have had.

Whatever Harding may think, Lepore is not "taking one side" in the "breast-feeding wars." Instead of "Mommy should stay home," Lepore says,
It appears no longer within the realm of the imaginable that, instead of running water and a stack of magazines, “breastfeeding-friendly” could mean making it possible for women and their babies to be together.
Is asking for a truly family-friendly workplace the same as saying, "Mommy should stay home"? I don't think so, and I think that feminist critics should give this piece a second read. It has more to say than some are giving it credit for.


Update: Jill Lepore appeared on Talk of the Nation on Wednesday to talk about this article. The segment is available here. Lepore makes her main points about how legislation/tax breaks are encouraging pumping in the workplace rather than promoting breastfeeding, and how pumping introduces corporate profits into the breastfeeding equation. Curiously, the only callers on the show are women who want to tell their own nursing anecdotes and are only secondarily (if at all) interested in the larger argument. Are these the best calls the show received, or are these just the ones the call screener chose? Each caller tells the same story — "Well, pumping was good for me" — but doesn't really engage with the larger issues.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Contagion: Historical Views of Diseases and Epidemics

In addition to the fine books I mentioned yesterday, those interested in the history of disease might consider checking out Harvard's online collection, Contagion: Historical Views of Diseases and Epidemics.

The collection, which features over 500,000 pages of manuscripts, is freely accessible to anyone with an internet connection. The collection is broken up into categories, some of which focus on individual diseases (Syphilis, 1494-1923) while others gather sources on specific epidemics (The Boston Smallpox Epidemic of 1721) and still others are dedicated to broad themes (Concepts of Contagion). Each category contains links to scanned copies of manuscripts from Harvard's collections.

I particularly recommend the section called Pestilence and the Printed Books of the Late 15th Century. The Herbarius (1485) has such beautiful hand-colored pages. I wish I could read the marginalia.

Things I've Learned In Graveyards

Apparently, angels have ample bosoms.
James Slaven, Providence, RI, 1833

David Payson, Wiscassett, ME, 1814

These images are interesting data points in the angel vs. soul effigy debates. They certainly don't represent the souls of James Slaven and David Payson, unless there's an argument to be made for a male body/female soul pairing. And those ladies are most definitely female.

I might understand giant breasts for James' gravestone — after all, he was a baby (19 mo.), and there is a conflation of the spiritual succor and motherly love themes.

They're a little harder to explain on the gravestone of Colonel David Payson, age 53.

For more on breast imagery on early American gravestones, see this post.

Also of interest:
  • According to James Blachowicz' From Slate to Marble, the Payson stone was carved by George T. Hope of Boston.
  • The Slaven stone is one of the oldest in Providence embellished with the cross and Christogram common to 19th-century Catholic gravestones.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Readings in the History of Disease

After last night's post, I thought I should recommend a few good reads on the topic of epidemics and disease in early America. I also want to try out my new Amazon Associate membership. I'm not really looking to make any money (very unlikely), but I like the look of links I've seen on other blogs.

This isn't the first time I've recommended Elizabeth Fenn's Pox Americana: The Great Smallpox Epidemic of 1775-82 (2001). The best thing about this book is its broad geographical sweep. Too often, "early America" means "New England" (I'm guilty of contributing to this), but Fenn traces the epidemic from Canada to Mexico, Atlantic to Pacific, and everywhere in between. Her writing is clear and concise, making Pox Americana a great book for undergraduates and the general public.

One of my absolute favorite books about the history of disease is Jennifer Lee Carrell's The Speckled Monster: A Historical Tale of Battling Smallpox (2004). While some of the Amazon reviewers did not enjoy its structure, I loved the way Carrell braided together the stories of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu and Dr. Zabdiel Boylston as both fought for inoculation. Reading her description of victims in the throes of confluent smallpox makes you marvel at what the human body can endure and (sometimes) survive.

Another good one is The Ghost Map: The Story of London's Most Terrifying Epidemic — and How it Changed Science, Cities, and the Modern World (2006) by Steven Johnson. It deals with a cholera epidemic, the miasma theory of disease, and sanitation in mid-19th-century London. It's good stuff and it sometimes reads like a thriller. I haven't had a chance to read Johnson's new book — The Invention of Air — but I'm looking forward to it.

Other books I haven't read, but am hoping to:

Monday, January 12, 2009

Remembering Epidemics

Pete and I just finished listening to an episode of This American Life that featured a story about a measles epidemic in San Diego that was caused by some parents' decision not to vaccinate their kids. My goal here is not to wade into the vaccination wars directly (others have reviewed the episode in question). Rather, a thought came to me while listening to anti-vaccination parents blithely pooh-poohing measles: I wonder whether Americans' notoriously short historical memory is contributing to this trend.

Most people are vaguely aware that infectious diseases are routinely fatal in eras and areas that do not have access to modern medicine. Yet, we are rarely asked to contemplate what that meant for people living in the past and continues to mean for people around the world today. A visit to any early New England graveyard will provide some testimony to the perils of infectious disease in a community without access to vaccination, most often in the heartbreaking double, triple, and high order multiple gravestones dedicated to children who died during epidemics. Here are a few examples:

Charlestown, MA, December, 1741:
This stone commemorates five daughters of Francis and Frances Lee, four of whom died in the same month. Eleven-year-old Mary survived, but died in 1748.
Margaret, age 10, d. December 1741
Frances, age 7, age 10, d. December 1741
Elizabeth, age 5, age 10, d. December 1741
Sarah, age 3, age 10, d. December 1741

Lexington, MA, August, 1778:
Six children of Abiah and Sarah Childs (more info here):
Moses, age 3, d. 19 August 1778
Eunice, age 12, d. 23 August 1778
Benjamin, age 4, d. 24 August 1778
Sarah, age 13, d. 28 August 1778
Abigail, age 7, d. 29 August 1778
Abijah, age 11, d. 6 September 1778

Chelmsford, MA, October, 1778:
This may have been the same epidemic that claimed the Childs children in Lexington a month before.
Hannah Fletcher and her four children:
Hannah Fletcher, age 30, d. 26 September 1778
Rebeckah, age -, d. 24 September 1778
Jepthae, age 4, d. 26 September 1778
Mary, age 9, d. 3 October 1778
Sarah, age 6, d. 5 October 1778

The Lynd Family of Malden, MA:
The Lynd (or Lynds) family of Malden lost three children in an epidemic in 1753. Twenty-five years later, another epidemic claimed three more. Though the parents of both sets are named Joseph and Mary, the chronology makes it unlikely that all of these children are siblings. I think that an older Joseph and Mary are the parents of the first three and the Mary who died in 1778, while the second Joseph (father of the Mary and Joseph who died in 1778) is probably their son.
Mary, age 12, d. 12 July 1753
Elizabeth, age 3, d. 12 July 1753
Phebe, age 5, d. 13 July 1753
Mary, age 4, d. 17 July 1778
Joseph, age 14 months, d. 23 July 1778
Mary, age 23, 14 August 1778

Menotomy, MA, August-September, 1802:
In Menotomy, now Arlington, MA, epidemics killed large numbers of children every few years, usually in September. Gravestones indicate that particularly destructive diseases hit the community in 1795, 1802, and 1805. Some families lost several children in each successive epidemic.

Three daughters of Amos and Helen Whitmore:
Mary, age 11 months, 24 August 1802
Harriot, age 10, d. 9 September 1802
Nancy, age 8, d. 25 September 1802

Two children of Jacob and Rhoda Nason:
Lydia, age 20 months, d. 5 September 1802
Jacob, age 5, d. 8 September 1802

Three children of Ephraim and Deborah Cutter:
Samuel, age 2, d. 1 September 1802
Debby, age 11, d. 7 September 1802
Benjamin, age 1, d. 8 September 1802

A daughter of Joseph and Mehittable Locke:
Louisa, age 22 months, d. 6 September 1802

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Deep Thought of the Day

If there are no cows/sheep/goats in Redwall Abbey, where does all of the cheese come from?

Friday, January 9, 2009

Failings of Phrenology

Elizabeth Cady Stanton on the selection of servants:
During the visit of my cousin [Gerrit Smith] I though I would venture on a small, select dinner party, consisting of the Rev. John Pierpont and his wife, Charles Sumner, John G. Whittier, and Joshua Leavitt. I had a new cook, Rose, whose viands, thus far, had proved delicious, so I had no anxiety on that score. But, unfortunately, on this occasion I had given her a bottle of wine for the pudding sauce and whipped cream, of which she imbibed too freely, and hence there were some glaring blunders in the menu that were exceedingly mortifying. As Mr. Smith and my husband were both good talkers, I told them they must cover all defects with their billiant conversation, which they promised to do.

Rose had all the points of a good servant, phrenologically and physiologically. She had a large head, with great bumps of caution and order, her eyes were large and soft and far apart. In selecting her, scientifically, I had told my husband, in triumph, several times what a treasure I had found. Shortly after dinner, one evening when I was out, she held the baby while the nurse was eating her supper, and carelessly burned his foot against the stove. Then Mr. Stanton suggested that, in selecting the next cook, I would better not trust to science, but inquire of the family where she lived as to her practical virtues. Poor Rose! she wept over her lapses when sober, and made fair promises for the future, but I did not dare to trust her, so we parted. The one drawback to the joys of housekeeping was then, as it is now, the lack of faithful, competent servants. The hope of co-operative housekeeping, in the near future, gives us some promise of a more harmonious domestic life.