Unearthed Gravestones

Last Saturday, March 25^th, our class took a bus to the East End Cemetery for some volunteer work. The East End Cemetery is an African American graveyard that had been completely abandoned since about 2013. Since then, Richmond residents have been steadily pushing back against the overgrowth that has enveloped the thousands of headstones. Whether it was raking dead leaves, picking up thousands of deposited tires, or cutting through the endless vines, for the past three to four years, volunteers have been uncovering history, revealing thousands of covered graves. They have unearthed a massive amount of space in a short few years. You can read more about their efforts here. When we arrived, several volunteers were already hard at work. We were given landscaping tools and led to an uncovered section of the cemetery.

Before the field trip, my roommate Marc and I had talked about the opportunity to discover something new. When we arrived at East End Cemetery, Marc and I worked near the rest of the class for a while. The excitement of finding discovering something decades untouched was palpable, and drove us to break off from the rest of the class and go look for buried gravestones. We followed the alignment of the visible graves to make calculated guesses on where there might be a headstone.  About thirty feet off of the trail, we spotted a corner of a headstone peeking out of the ground. We had to make a trip back to the pile of tools after we realized we did not have the necessary tools. We dug up the gravestone for about thirty minutes. We finally accomplished our goal, and pulled up the gravestone out of the ground and laid it up so it was visible. Neither of us said anything. We stared at the headstones in a mix of reverence for the person laid to rest, but also pride. Although the person had been dead for ninety years, it felt as though we had resurrected his memory, uncovering it from the earthly vines and brush that had taken over. There was nothing for either of us to say. We stood in silence. Peter Ehrenhaus talked about silence in his essay, “Silence and Symbolic Expression” He wrote, “Silence can be encountered in all modes of symbolic expression. While typically considered the absence of speech, we can think of silence more broadly as the absence of usable forms of symbolic expression (i.e., as our inability to use meaningfully those form of symbolic expression which we encounter). Further, expanding our view of silence-as-object affords us greater opportunity to study ways in which silence-as-encounter becomes personally meaningful” (Ehrenhaus, 1988, p. 41). Marc and I were not at a loss for words. We were not speechless. We simply both stared at the headstone as an overall expression for what we were looking at.

One quote from Ehrenhaus struck me again, as we unearthed the fourth and final gravestone of the day. “If we now recast our conception of silence from one of object, complementary in nature to speech, to one of encounter we obviate the paradox of which Scott wrote. Silence ceases to imply absence; its domain becomes obstacle to interpretation.” (Ehrenhaus, 1988. P. 42). By doing this, we can use silence as a mode of interpretation, similar to Saturday.

 

I then began thinking about how the graveyard had become so taken over. I thought to myself, this would never have happened to Hollywood cemetery. The thought reminded me of a reading from earlier this year. In Marie Tyler-McGraw’s paper, “Southern Comfort Levels: Race Heritage Tourism, and Civil War in Richmond” she wrote about how the wealthy white aristocrats wanted to preserve the confederacy as much as possible after the war. “But a region could reach the New New South only by passing through the New South. In the decades after the Civil War and Reconstruction, Richmond’s white leadership had several goals: to memorialize the Confederacy, to make Richmond part of the New South industrial economy, to embrace at least part of the 1890s City Beautiful urban design movement, and to effectively separate the city’s black population from the white.” (Tyler-McGraw, 2006, p. 153-154). What would be a possible way of separating the city’s black population from the white? Separating the locations where they are laid to rest. Rather than incorporating the African Americans into the city, they gave them a plot of land twenty minutes away, on the outskirts of the city, for them to lay their loved ones to rest. Out of sight out of mind. These people suffered an incredible injustice, and had then been forgotten about, in part, with the abandonment of the cemetery.

 

References

Ehrenhaus, Peter. “Silence & Symbolic Expression.” Communication Monographs, 55 (1988): 41-57.

Tyler-McGraw, Marie. “Southern Comfort Levels: Race, Heritage Tourism, and the Civil War in Richmond,” in Slavery and Public History: The Tough Stuff of American Memory (2006), ed. J.O. Horton & L.E. Horton, p. 150-167.

 

 

 

 

Archival Memory

 

This week we read “To Remember and Forget: Archives, Memory, and Culture” by Kenneth E. Foote about the relationship between the archive and collective memory. We then listened to the University of Richmond archivist Irina Rogova and community archivists Michael Lease and Kim Wolfe speak to us in class. One passage from the essay struck me in particular. Foote writes, “In real life, people do sometimes choose to keep secrets, to lie, and to distort information to control. Bureaucracies and corporations may seek to control the flow of damaging information by destroying incriminating records and employing oaths of secrecy” (Foote, 1990, p. 384). This reminded me of the presentation by Michael Lease and Kim Wolfe. They mentioned how, while some people were eager to share their stories and personal history within the context of Battery Park, some residents were also very hesitant to talk to them. Furthermore, after fact checking some of the stories from the interviews, they would realize some aspects of the story were hyperbolized or even outright incorrect. This brought me back full circle to the beginning of the semester when we discussed how memory is so personal and real to that specific person, sometimes things are just outright made up. As a big golf fan, I remember a story about how Jack Nicklaus, the greatest golfer of all time, claimed in an interview that he never three-putted (typically a mistake in golf) on the last hole on the final round. A reporter then cited a specific instance disproving Nicklaus and he was still adamant and refused to accept it. Collective memory and its relationship to an archive is extremely fragile. An archive is accurate. It is correct, or at least that is an assumption of them. Meanwhile, collective memory is extremely powerful but also very blurred in the real and the unreal. This is especially true when the collective memory is about something tragic or sad. People typically do not like to talk about tragic events in their life. Therefore, even though an event is a big moment in a group of people’s lives, they never talk about it. With time, their memory of the event might change or be altered to make the reality less harsh. Therefore, collective memory can shape the reality of what really happened. However, if there are no records of the event, and the archive has to solely depend on the oral stories, a history that may or may not be entirely accurate is archived in history, forever. Foote wrote about the Salem witch trials as an example of this. He discussed how the town, so ashamed of thei history, would prefer to simply forget it even though it was such an incredible and shocking history. Foote writes, “the sense of shame engendered by the trails, combined with Salem’s subsequent growth as a prosperous seaport, led to the passive effacement of the execution site. All records of the site, both oral and written, were lost.” (Foote, 1990, p. 385). Because there are no true records, the archive must depend on an incomplete or slightly altered history.

 

Blumberg, Jess. “A Brief History of the Salem Witch Trials.” Smithsonian.com. Smithsonian Institution, 23 Oct. 2007. Web. 26 Mar. 2017.

Foote, Kenneth E. “To Remember and Forget: Archives, Memory, and Culture.” American Archivist, 53 (Summer 1990): 378-392.

A Shock Bottom Problem

 

This week anthropologist Derek Miller and curator Alexandra Byrum came to speak to our class. Derek Miller made an impassioned speech on the importance of preserving the African-American burial ground discovered in Shockoe Bottom. His plea reminded me of our reading for that class, “Rhetorical Spaces in Memorial Places: The Cemetery as a Rhetorical Memory Place/Space” by Elizabethada A. Wright. In context of discussing “Inappropriate Rhetorical Memory Spaces”, Wright writes, “A memory must have a place where a memory can crystallize and secrete itself; it must deliver the rhetorical goods. If, however, there is no public space into whose boundaries a rhetorical memory space is deemed appropriate, then the memory…can disappear” (Wright, 2005, p. 55). Those words came to mind while we were discussing what it would mean to that burial ground, and everyone involved, if it was simply paved over and had a new baseball stadium placed on top. I made me consider some memories of my own. With each and every memory I remembered, the physical space was one of the first things incorporated in the memory. This proves for the need to preserve the African-American burial ground before the lack of physical space dedicated to the area is followed by loss of the memory. You can read more about the specifics here.

Derek Miller continued by discussing the counter argument. The town continues to cite the monetary value of the land as a reason to not excavate the bodies or commit any resources to the project. However, Miller made a great point when he pulled up a picture of Hollywood Cemetery. Hollywood Cemetery is located in a massive rolling field overlooking a beautiful shot of the river.

He continued by saying, why should we accept the rebuttal of the value of the land as a reason to build over this sacred burial ground when Hollywood Cemetery is located on seemingly one of the most beautiful plots of land in Richmond. Miller asked, if the city of Richmond can so automatically point to the value of the land of the plot in Shockoe Bottom, why not do the same for Hollywood Cemetery? However, part of me questions if it really matters. I know Hollywood cemetery is a big historical cemetery with some important people in it, but that did not really move me to learn more about the cemetery or the people laid to rest in it. Wright wrote about the life of a cemetery in her paper. She writes, “(The cemeteries) are unlike the public monument in that they are erected without public consent and for a private need. And the private need is more quickly forgotten than is the need shared by the community.” (Wright, 2005, p. 58). This begs the question then, what should we do with the burial ground at Shockoe Bottom? What is the best possible way to honor those who are buried there so that they will be remembered? While only time can answer that question, the best we can do is keep fighting the town to even have the opportunity to make the difference we want.

 

References

Wright, Elizabethada A. “Rhetorical Spaces in Memorial Places: The Cemetery as a Rhetorical   Memory Place/Space.” Rhetoric Society Quarterly, 35, 4 (2005): 51-81.

Monumental Progress

“Monuments always say more about the people, times, and places of their creation than they do about the people, times, and places they honor” (Upton, 2012, p. 20). This in Dell Upton’s second rule of thumb of monuments he writes about in his essay, ““Why Do Contemporary Monuments Talk to Much?”. Those words resonated again and again as I listened to Harry Kollatz Jr. describe the monuments. He described more the history of actual monument than the history behind the figure. Two monuments in particular stood out to me. The two were the Stonewall Jackson monument and the Matthew Fontaine Maury monument. They stood out in unison because they were extremely different, but build by the same architect. The Stonewall Jackson monument, while very big and grand, was extremely underwhelming.

Here was one of the heroes of the Confederacy, a man who earned his nickname for his incredible courage in battle. A leader of men who was a brilliant tactician. General Lee’s favorite pupil. The monument was simply him sitting on a horse (a horse, not even his horse), raised up on a bare, boring platform. I did not think much of it, and when Kollatz mentioned the architects name I whispered under my breath, “well he did a pretty poor job”. We start walking to the next monument. Before we even get there I am admiring the incredible detail, intricacies and beauty of the figure. Matthew Fontaine Maury sat before us.

He sat with his head bowed, although still with a demanding presence. Underneath his was scribed “Pathfinder of the Seas,” a title I thought carried a lot of weight. Above him was a globe sitting on top of a crew that was rushing out of the surf after a ship wreck. In my opinion, the whole statue could not be completely appreciated without walking around it for several minutes. Similar to a piece of fine painting, small details can be seen each time you revisit it, only growing your appreciation for it. I had not been listening for a few minutes, lost in my own thoughts while gazing at the statue. The first thing I hear when I focus back to Kollatz is the same architect who build Stonewall Jackson built Maury. I could not believe it. Kollatz continued, “Surely that is an indication to you of what Sievers (the architect) thought of Stonewall Jackson compared to Matthew Fontaine Maury” I did not really know who Maury was however, and I was very intrigued. I visited many websites including this one to learn more about him. He was an incredible man. However, I was more intrigued by Sievers. The stark contrast between the two monuments was incredible. This again made me think of part of the reading, “A Paul Goodloe McIntire, a United Daughters of the Confederacy, or another powerful, interested party can no longer simply pony up the funds and plop down a monument in a public space regardless of the sentiments of the citizens at large” (Upton, 2012, p. 25). In today’s society, a decision like this is not taken likely, and cannot be bought. However, men like Sievers can continue to purposely underwhelm us and make a statement for the “citizens at large” while also doing his job.

References:

Upton, Dell. “Why Do Contemporary Monuments Talk So Much?” Academia.edu. N.p., n.d.     Web. 23 Feb. 2017.

The Confederacy Today

After the class walked into the Great Hall of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, several of us were not sure what to think. We glanced at each other wondering, what really is this place? As Brandon mentions in his blog post, “A Shrine to the Confederacy” there was a good amount of confusion as to what UDC’s real purpose was. As the tour went on, I came to see the UDC as homage to what used to be. My personal view might be skewed because I am a “yankee” but I was positive that our tour guide was still upset from the outcome of the Civil War. It was very easy to tell, after several passive aggressive comments, that she believes wholeheartedly that today’s general take on the Civil War is unjustly represented and tainted by the horrible institution that is slavery.

Our guide was asked what her motivation for joining the UDC was. I was expecting a cookie cutter answer along the lines of family pride or the like. However, we got a loaded answer that turned into a long tangent that involved her explanation of her family’s relationship with the slaves they owned. I completely agree with Brandon’s take on the preservation of the Confederacy. One of the first lines of the tour mentioned the secession of South Carolina. She then prompted us to consider the possibility of our future today. Time is a flat circle and with that in mind, is California secession possible? Would President Trump invoke marshal law? As improbable as those questions may have seemed a couple months ago, they are worth an open discussion today.

Tredegar: Today vs Yesterday

 

Prior to our class trip to Tredegar, I did not know what to expect from the museum. Other than using the Tredegar parking lot to park and go to the river, I had no experience whatsoever with Tredegar. I was particularly interested in the museum’s claim to show the perspective from three different groups: the north, the confederacy, and the slaves. While I thought the balance of the three perspectives were significantly more weighted towards the perspectives of the African-Americans, I believe their perspective is grossly undervalued in general discussions of the Civil War so I was content. In that same vein, I really enjoyed the end of the museum on the second floor. The display, the Legacy gallery, celebrated many African-Americans who have prospered since the Emancipation Proclamation. I found myself reading the 13^th, 14^th, and 15^th Amendments several times. Over and over again I imagined the significance for each and every American when those Amendments were written.

I have a special place in my heart or Abraham Lincoln. He is my father’s biggest idol, so I constantly heard about Lincoln growing up. Additionally, a book on Lincoln and his leadership style was required reading for my internship this summer. For those reasons, I loved seeing the plaque dedicated to the Gettysburg address.

The most moving part of the museum, personally, was reading the reactions on the post-it notes. As you mention in your article, “the materiality of the post-it facilitates the containment of memories by limiting the possibility for resistance, tempering emotion, and focusing visitors’ attention on progress. In these ways, the post-it note tames the possibilities, arguably the most productive possibilities of memory’s excess” (Maurantonio, 2015, 91). The ‘tempering of emotion’ hit my particularly hard when reading the prompt: “Are we all equal in today’s society”. The responses almost all said no. However, there was almost always a hint of optimism, such as “not yet but we are getting better” or something of the sort. In these current times of political and sociocultural tumult, I was touched by the optimism and forward-looking attitude. The post-its allowed for each visitor to leave his or her stamp. As a visitor, one can make his or her own impact on Tredegar. As you write, “Visitors see themselves as part of a collective, albeit an imperfect collective that is comprised of perspectives that, while appearing incompatible, nonetheless are drawn together on a single wall as a visually homogenous whole” (Maurantonio, 2015, 96). Yes, the posts are more or less “incompatible”. However, the incompatibleness of the posts is what makes them significant. Even when reading about a post “I think I am a fourth cousin of a descendant of General Lee” or something silly like that, it was almost nice to see someone even attempting to make a connection with the Civil War. The rich history of the Civil War represented at Tredegar is memorialized with the post-it note board. The visitor’s chance to leave their own mark on Tredegar allows for one to remember the experience in their own way.

Works Cited

The Stories They* Tell

I found Stories We Tell a fascinating example of how memory differs from person to person. In one of the readings, Zelizer wrote, “Collective memory is not necessarily linear, logical, or rational. It can take on any of these characteristics but it does not depend on any of them for its constitution” (Zelizer). This also brings to mind the fact that people often times even remember things that never even happened. The relationship between memory and truth is an interesting one. Oftentimes a memory or a story is taken as truth, because the person telling the story believes it as true because there were there. That typically is enough for the room of people to believe the person. However, that is just plainly false. You mentioned in class the man who thought he went to two separate funerals. There was proof that two funerals did not happen. In the same vein, I thought I saw my dog get attacked by a rabid raccoon in my yard, although I was taking a nap on the couch and every detail of my retelling, that I swore by was wrong.

This opens my eyes up to Stories We Tell. While the many accounts of Diane paint a picture of her, as a viewer, you must take all of their stories with a grain of salt. Especially when you hear a different telling of a story you already heard. With that in mind, it is important to see that while the stories of specific events vary, some pretty shocking truths came out. A truth, the story of the affair and illegitimate child, that when I first considered it I thought that it may have been better if the truth never came out. However, when Sarah’s dad finds out the truth, he actually benefits from it. Of course he was initially hurt, but the truth really gave him some closure and he could move on. His art greatly improves, may too, due to that disturbing news. It helps him grow and learn.

The movie also changed my perception of truth. Does the truth about the affair greatly affect the way everyone is looking back on Diane? Or do people, who never knew about it when Diane was alive, not allow that to tarnish or hurt their memory of her. Memories are not fragile things, in my opinion. They are ingrained in the person’s mind. Even if there is no truth to it in the real world, people vigorously defend memories because to them, it is who they are. Their experiences, and therefore memory of those experiences, define who they are. To challenge that, or even tell them that they did not exist or happen they way the think it did, is to challenge who they are in a way. However, that also goes back to an undeniable truth. If they remember something for a specific reason, then is that not their own truth? Does that not still define who they are even if it is false?

 

 

First blog post

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