February 1956: When the Eyes of the World Were on Us

Sixty years ago, the first major step was made toward desegregating the University of Alabama. Autherine Lucy, a black woman from Shiloh, Alabama, was enrolled – and a few days later suspended, eventually expelled, though she had done nothing wrong.

We tend to focus on 1963, on the bizarre segregationist pageantry of the Stand in the Schoolhouse Door, perhaps because it was ultimately unsuccessful. This week, we want to focus on something harder to take in but just as important to remember: when segregation unfortunately won.

In addition to this post, see the entry on our sister blog, Cool at Hoole: Chronicling UA’s First Steps Toward Desegregation.


While Acumen is not home to many items chronicling Autherine Lucy’s enrollment in UA and the resultant backlash, it does hold one important resource: digitized copies of the Crimson White from February 1956.

The issues of February 7th, 14th, 21st, and 28th reflect the campus’s own view of the events, everything from photos of a lonely Lucy to images of the crowds protesting her presence, from reports of hooliganism to apologies proffered to UA President Oliver Carmichael.

One especially interesting part of the coverage is the response of outsiders — from across the state, the country, and even the world. In the February 14 issue, the CW gave over three pages to just some of two hundred or so letters addressed to the newspaper, the community, or the students themselves.

Read them in their entirety here (click on the thumbnails) or see the highlights that follow.

Continue reading

The World of Camp Aliceville

Like hundreds of other communities in the U.S. during WWII, Aliceville, Alabama, was home to a prisoner of war camp. Between June 1943 and September 1945, Camp Aliceville saw hundreds of thousands of German soldiers come and go, a time which left an impression on both the men and the town.

We are lucky enough to have digital versions of 16 audio interviews given in the mid-1990s by people involved with the camp, including staff and townspeople as well as six former prisoners: Gene Dakan Kenneth Eugene, Walter Fetholter, Theo Klein, Henrich Most, Wilhelm Schlegel, and Karl Silberreis. (The recordings of Klein and Most are in German.)

Most range from 10-30 minutes. Here’s one of the shorter ones, at around 2 minutes, as a sneak peek:

Interview with Elma Henders Emerson

Emerson talks about the state of the Germans when they came, how they filled the hospital, their initial eating habits, and their help in the kitchen.

To hear the other 15 recordings, visit the German Prisoners of War in Aliceville Collection in Acumen. To learn more about the camp, check out the website for the Aliceville Museum.

Holiday Cheer

Every year since 1969, the Department of Music at UA has presented a Christmas program called Hilaritas. It includes a variety of holiday-themed music, mixing traditional carols and standards with modern pop songs and new arrangements.

Earlier this year, we digitized the audio from some of the earliest Hilaritas programs. Below, you’ll find links to each, as well as a sample track to whet your appetite.

Hilaritas 1970 (single reel)

Sample Track: Medley: The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire); Deck the Halls; Angels We Have Heard; We Wish You a Merry Christmas

Hilaritas 1971 (reel one, reel two, reel three)

Sample Track: For Unto Us a Child is Born, from Handel’s Messiah

Hilaritas 1972 (reel one, reel two, reel three)

Sample Track: O Holy Night (carol sing)

Hilaritas 1973 (reel one, reel two)

Sample Track: The Christmas Waltz

Hilaritas 1974 (reel one, reel two)

Sample Track: Medley: Christmas Present, Snow Ball of a Time, What are you doing New Year’s Eve?

Willie T. White’s Persistent Suitor

Normally, we don’t get caught up in reading what we’re digitizing, but some collections beg for more attention. Over the spring, the incoming correspondence of Ms. Willie Teresa White (1898-1990) caught they eye of our former colleague, Jessica, such that she began to dig deeper. What she found was a woman happy to be a friend to many young men — including nearly two dozen WWI soldiers — but ultimately unwilling to take the further step of marrying.

In a future post, we’ll see just where all those soldiers were stationed and why they might’ve been writing to a woman they in most cases didn’t even know. Today, we’ll look at her correspondence with one of her serious suitors, the persistent Leonard Hughen.

Based on what we find in the Willie T. White papers, Leonard (bless his heart) sent her at least 169 pieces of correspondence over a period of about 5 years. Though we often don’t know where he is, he’s sometimes in Jacksonville, Montgomery, or Rockford, Alabama. The latter was Willie’s hometown, so he might’ve known her for much of her life. Unlike some of her correspondents who address her by a nickname (Cubbie or Cub), he always addresses her as Willie T.

The earliest of his letters is from 1915, like this one sent in April, where he expresses happiness at her apparent recent religious awakening. (In his words, she’s “decided to get on the right side with Christ.”) He apologizes for being so serious in speaking about religion, but he wants her to know that he is “deeply interested” in her.

Later in the letter, he tells her how he feels much more directly:

This is certainly sweet and sincere, but as we read more letters during the scanning process, we came to the conclusion that Leonard was a bit clingy, or at least more interested in her than she was in him. Witness this plea, six months later:

He has similar concerns in January 1916, writing, “Have I done anything to make you mad with me?” In that letter, he reveals himself to be more than a bit gloomy and melodramatic, ending thus:

In October of that year, he writes her speaking of a “proposition” he’s made, undoubtedly a marriage proposal. However, he fears her reply and must plead his case:

Later in the letter, he assures her that he understands her well and that he sees how she’s different from other girls, which is precisely why he loves her. He concludes: “Without you, my life would be a desperate failure.”

In general, Leonard’s correspondence is full of melodramatic exaggeration, like his closing in a letter of May 1919: “My Dear you know I love you, and you are the sweetest person on earth to me. I dream of you most every night and I would give anything in my power to see you.”

Over the course of their correspondence, Leonard does everything he can to prove he cares for her, and whether she believes him to be sincere or not is no matter: she never agrees to marry him. By 1919, he seems to have accepted this, taking instead the part of friend and adviser. In his letter of October 1919 he counsels her on a rumor he heard about her potential marriage:

In April 1920, there’s some confusion as to whether he wants her to stop writing to him. He certainly does not! Though he passive-aggressively mentions that she (unlike he) has never said I Love You, he says he will continue to look for her letters, as she is “the best friend [he] ever possessed.”

However, he never quite gives up hope; at the very least, his feelings never waver. In May 1920, he writes: “Willie T. you can’t imagine how I think of you and it will simply break my heart to have to give you up, I would rather not exist but I guess we can endure most anything that we are compelled to.”

Perhaps Leonard could endure Willie’s rejections in part because she never accepted anyone else either. So what did she do with this life of hers, not tied down to a husband? According to the finding aid for the collection,

As of 1920, Willie was employed as a stenographer at the Young Women’s Christian Association in Birmingham. By the late 1920s, Miss White had moved to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, where she would reside for the majority of her life. During the Great Depression, Willie and her mother, Kate White, were operators of the Blue Lantern Tea Room in Tuscaloosa. After World War II, Willie worked as an occupational therapist at the Veteran’s Administration Hospital in Tuscaloosa. Late in her life, Willie was a resident of Hatley Health Care in Clanton, Alabama. Willie White passed away on July 6, 1990, at the age of 92.

Newly Online: James B. Tipton papers

This year for Veterans Day, we celebrate a man who was a veteran twice over during his long career in the military.

Major General James B. Tipton was a pilot and pilot instructor with the United States Army Air Forces (later the United States Air Force). He served in World War II and in the Korean War. Recently, some items came our way tell the story of his career. While they weren’t ultimately donated to the Hoole Special Collections Library, the family graciously allowed us to digitize them.

For more information on Tipton, see this bio at the U.S. Air Force webpage.

Scrapbook, 1934-1944

Two photos from Scrapbook of Major General James B. Tipton, 1934-1944

Photographs of University of Alabama football players, including the team’s trip to the Rose Bowl in 1938, and images from Tipton’s service in World War II.

View online

 

Scrapbook, 1939-1968

Collage of postcard and photo from Scrapbook of Major General James B. Tipton, 1939-1968Photos and newspaper clippings, mostly of his time training and teaching at Randolph Field and Ballenger Field, both in Texas.

View online

 

U. S. Air Force Oral History Interview, July 15, 1985

Tipton3

Lengthy document describing his service in World War II and the Korean War, including discussion of flight training.

View online

Fleeting Sounds

Usually when we think of ephemera — items that were originally meant to be discarded after use but have since become collectibles [source] — we think of documents. Paper is the medium of choice for these transitory items, from ticket stubs and playbills to flyers and menus to… phonograph records?

Recently, our audio guru Corinne digitized three “cardboard” records. These are playable but not particularly long lasting records made of paste paper coated in a thin layer or vinyl or acetate. Such records often served as promotional items or, in the case of the Recordio specimens in our collection, audio recordings created by the average person in a public booth.

These particular records captured the voices of two African-American children as they were shopping in 1946. Click on the record sleeves below to go to the items in Acumen.

Rozmon Kennon (10 years old)
recording of the voice of Rozmon Kennon, 1946, Birmingham, Alabama

Dannetta Kennon (8 years old)
recording of the voice of Dannetta Kennon, 1946, Birmingham, Alabama

Not only were these fascinating to listen to, but digitizing them was vital — we needed to more permanently capture these voices before the fragile medium they were recorded on broke down. There was no special equipment required, just an abundance of caution!

For more on various odd record types, including the Recordio, check out this website devoted to the subject: The Internet Museum of Flexi/Cardboard/Oddity Records.

Becoming Kappa

1928 image of the Gamma Pi chapter of Kappa Kappa Gamma, with individual photos of 19 girlsWhen we say goodbye to buildings, we often say hello to interesting things that finally come out of them as their inhabitants prepare for demolition. Over the summer, we got to digitize one such discovery: a scrapbook of chartering documents from the UA chapter of Kappa Kappa Gamma.

There are two common paths to creating a chapter of a national Greek organization. One is to do so directly, working with the organization to establish a colony, a probationary form of chapter. The other is to establish a strong local fraternity or sorority and subsequently seek chapter status from the national.

In 1926, the “local” Alpha Pi took that second path, petitioning Kappa Kappa Gamma national women’s fraternity to be brought in as a chapter. Part of that petition involved recommendations from peers, which they later gathered in a scrapbook.

From Fellow Kappas

The first materials in the book are from Kappa Kappa Gamma actives and alumnae who were near enough geographically to visit…and to have a vested interest in seeing the group spread further in the South.

Typed copy of letter from Lucy Sharpe, Beta Chi, 1925, undated

Letter from Lucy Sharpe, undated

For example, Elizabeth Van der Veer, of the Beta Omicron chapter (Tulane), writes to the national that she visited the girls at their request and “came away very much ‘sold’ on them.” They were “bright, energetic, enthusiastic, and attractive.” She adds, “We southern Kappas are few and far between, and we are anxious to have more chapters down our way.”

Lucy Sharpe, of the Beta Chi chapter (University of Kentucky), agrees, saying, “Kappa needs to come into the South. The best of Alabama’s young girls attend the University. There is no large national fraternity on the campus. Why can’t Kappa step in and take her place at this opportune time? The University wants and needs us.”

Letters were also sent from local alumnae originating in chapters at the University of Oklahoma, University of Cincinnati, and The Ohio State University.

From Fraternities

Men’s fraternities on campus were important witnesses to the character of the local. Letters went out from UA chapters of 12 fraternities: Alpha Tau Omega, Sigma Chi, Delta Tau Delta, Delta Kappa Epsilon, Kappa Alpha, Phi Delta Theta, Phi Kappa Alpha, Lambda Chi Alpha, Pi Kappa Alpha, Phi Gamma Delta, Sigma Nu, and Pi Kappa Phi.

Handwritten letter from Julien Smith, Jr., on behalf of the UA chapter of Phi Delta Theta, July 9, 1926

Letter on behalf of the UA chapter of Phi Delta Theta, July 9, 1926

According to Pi Kappa Alpha’s letter, “It would be difficult indeed to select a group of higher character and of greater promise than this particular group.” The Delta Tau Delta letter says, “if you should see fit to grant them a charter, we think you will always be glad of having done so.”

The Alpha Tau Omega letter reminds us that this is about the reputation of the national organization as much as the petitioning group: “Surely Kappa Kappa Gamma is desirous of having chapters in such institutions as Alabama not only promises to be, but as Alabama is today. …it is an ideal opportunity and one that in our estimation is very rare which should not be passed on lightly.”

The letter from Delta Kappa Epsilon provides some concrete background to situation. By their count, there were 500 female students and only 8 sororities. They find that “the limited number of Sororities is woefully inadequate as compared with the large number of girl students.”

From Other Sororities

There were, indeed, few women’s groups on campus at that time, but they all wrote to the Kappa Kappa Gamma national, perhaps with an eye to raising the overall profile of the campus. Letters were sent from the UA chapters of all 7 current sororities: Delta Delta Delta, Chi Omega, Alpha Gamma Delta, Alpha Chi Omega, Kappa Delta, Delta Zeta, and Zeta Tau Alpha.

Handwritten letter from Margaret Brown, on behalf of herself and the Nu Beta chapter of Chi Omega, July 12, 1926

Letter on behalf of the Nu Beta chapter of Chi Omega, July 12, 1926

Kappa Delta argues that given how women’s enrollment had “practically doubled itself in the part four years,” Kappa Kappa Gamma was needed. They assure the organization that they will find an easy path at UA: “The policy of the University official has always been one of welcome and aid to sororities and fraternities. This feature has helped to make the institution a stronghold for the Greek world.”

Alpha Chi Omega praises the group’s character, their leadership and “fineness of Southern womanhood.” The Alpha Gamma Delta province president notes their ability to maintain these high standards over several years and declares, “I feel sure that they would measure up to the responsibilities placed upon them.” Delta Zeta proclaims that the organization “will be well repaid” if it admits them.

Finally, Delta Delta Delta writes that the group is “worthy,”  and it is “looking forward to welcoming another member of the ‘Big Four’ to campus.”

It did welcome that group in 1927, when Pi Alpha became the Gamma Pi chapter of Kappa Kappa Gamma, still active today.

Images from the CSS Alabama

The Confederate cruiser CSS Alabama has quite a history. Our sister blog, Cool at Hoole, has a series of posts telling the ship’s story, which — if you’ll believe it — starts with construction in secrecy in England and ends in defeat in France.

But when those posts were written, a really cool resource about the CSS Alabama wasn’t yet digitized: a photo album of the ship and crew. The album, given by friends to crewmember Edwin Maffitt Anderson, was assembled in Liverpool, England, in 1864.

This is the ship at sea, probably a drawing.

Image of CSS Alabama

Here is her captain.

CSS Alabama Captain Raphael Semmes

Among the many portraits of crewmembers, you’ll find placeholders for those who died in service.

Placeholder in memory of William Robertson, Third Assistant Engineer

You’ll also find images of non-crewmembers like this unidentified woman, perhaps one of Anderson’s friends.

Unidentified woman

And there were, as expected, several images of Edwin Maffitt Anderson — and a man with a similar name, Eugene Anderson Maffitt. This photo of them together (on left and right, but no idea which is which!) seems to prove the similar names on the roll were not a mistake or mixup.

Edwin Anderson Maffitt, Thomas C. Cuddy, and Eugene Anderson Maffitt

You’ll notice that the photo has been artificially colored in, a not-uncommon occurrence in early photography. Check out the rest of the album online, to see what else you can learn about the Alabama or the cartes de visite photograph format.

According to the collection Finding Aid, “Edwin Maffitt Anderson, a native of Georgia, was midshipman on the CSS Alabama during the Civil War. He joined the crew of the Alabama in 1862 and remained with them until June 19, 1864, when the USS Kearsarge sunk the ship off the coast of France. Anderson was wounded in the battle. After he recovered, he joined the crew of the blockade runner Owl, and he was later promoted to lieutenant. He died in Georgia in 1923.”

The Mystic Order of the Nonsense Club

Among the Corolla yearbooks digitized and available in Acumen are the first ten volumes, covering 1893-1902. This was an eventful decade at UA: the last ten years of the campus run under military order and the first ten years as a co-ed institution.

Looking through the pages of these early books tells one a lot about student culture at UA. In particular, the smaller enrollments in those days (175 in 1891 to 400 in 1901) meant the yearbooks were a lot more reflective of individual student experiences. They often included things like personal statements and group in-jokes, as well as local songs or cheers and student creative writing and drawings. Also included: pages for what appear to be joke organizations or clubs.

Perhaps they reflected actual groups of friends who decided to codify their clique by giving it a ridiculous name or gathering it around a silly concept. Often spoofing the ceremonial trappings of real-life fraternal organizations like the Freemasons or the Knights of Pythias, these “club” pages in the Corolla left a legacy of playfulness one doesn’t always expect from a turn-of-the-century military institution.

Of course, the military order at UA may be exactly why they needed an outlet for lighthearted creativity and individualism. They were college students, after all.

1893

1893

1895

1895

1895

1895

1896

1896

1896

1896

1899

1899

1899; Their name, a simple translation of Latin letters into Greek: EGGNOG CHAPTER OF SKRAPPERS

1899; Their name, a simple translation of Latin letters into Greek: EGGNOG CHAPTER OF SKRAPPERS

1899

1899

1902

1902

1902

1902

“Beware of Confidential Friends” — they might give you a silly title in a club with an even sillier name.

Food, Glorious Food!

By guest blogger Alex Olkovsky, a graduate student in American Studies

While many collections in our archives contain business and legal documents, there are also numerous focused on people’s daily and domestic lives. Unsurprisingly, these collections are where we can oftentimes most clearly hear women’s voices. Women’s daily lives, beliefs, and values come through in commonplace books, which are essentially a mixture of diary and scrapbook, often containing journal entries, newspaper clippings, copied poetry and hymns, and recipes.

Looking at these recipes, in particular, can give us more information about the woman, her socioeconomic class, and her location. They can also help us date the book, as the use of certain foods and technologies denotes a particular time period. Plus, we can see which recipes have stood the test of time and which have, fortunately for us, been replaced with cheaper and/or yummier ones.

Two commonplace books in the collection tell a story of how American cookery evolved over the latter half of the 19th century. Martha Jane Coleman Banks’ commonplace book, which she created from around 1848 to around 1865, shows the relative poverty of her time as well as the real concern of how to preserve food in the time before mass refrigeration. Annie Perkins’ book, dated to the early 1910s to the 1920s, shows very different patterns in cooking and food. Her recipes include many more dessert recipes, as well as newer and more expensive ingredients such as coconut, salmon, and oysters, and refrigeration seems less difficult, as her book even includes a recipe for homemade ice cream.

Martha Jane Coleman Banks, born in 1833, was expected to make and preserve most of her family’s food. The recipes in her commonplace book, including those cut and pasted from newspapers, show a much more rural, self-reliant way of cooking. There are instructions for a quick method of churning butter, canning tomatoes, and drying peaches.

We also get a sense of the domestic appliances at Banks’ disposal in these recipes, especially since the butter article notes the ‘new’ way of boiling milk in a kettle. The book also illustrates the initial growth of mass production, as the author of one newspaper article recommends that women keep canned food in Northern-produced tin cans, which “cost only 12 ½ cents each” and will keep for decades if washed properly.

Newspaper clipping about making butter

A large issue for a housewife of Banks’ time was the problem of refrigeration. While artificial refrigeration had been invented in the 18th century, refrigerators for the home were not invented and mass produced until 1913. The recipes in Banks’ commonplace book offer a keen reminder of this fact, as one advises that a can of vegetables not contain “more than can be consumed at two meals in warm weather, as the tomatoes soon spoil after the cans are opened.”

However, Banks’ time period was also rife with new produce, as America saw the mingling of English, Native American, and continental European peoples and crops. One regular feature in a newspaper Banks read was the “Horticultural Department,” which offered expert advice on how to plant and prepare produce. An article from 1854 taught women how to cook asparagus, which the author noted was “not yet appreciated in the up-country of the South.” Other vegetable recipes in this article included ones for beets, cabbage, carrots, cucumbers (apparently fried cucumber is delicious), “Indian corn,” “spinage,” and salsify (a root vegetable similar to parsnips). The instructions for cooking these vegetables were almost always to boil them and then smother them in butter.

Newspaper clipping showing illustration for Horticulture Department

By the time that Annie Perkins was compiling her commonplace book in the first two decades of the 20th century, the landscape of American cooking had changed dramatically. Perkins’ book features a majority of dessert recipes, including ones for basic pound and sponge cakes as well as more exotic ingredients such as cantaloupe, coconut, and chocolate. Compared to Banks’ time, Perkins would have been expected to purchase many more of her goods, perhaps freeing up time to create more lavish and complicated desserts. However, most of the recipes were more basic ones that a young housewife would have been expected to master.

Handwritten recipe for oatmeal cookies, 1922

Perkins’ commonplace book also has a greater variety of ingredients than does Banks’, especially in regards to meat and fish. Banks’ book offers few meat and fish recipes, and those that exist tend to be of animals a rural Southern woman would have access to, such as chickens and pigs. By contrast, Perkins’ recipes include ones for anchovies, clams, canned salmon, and oysters. Not knowing exactly where these two women lived, it is possible that Perkins had more access to fish because she may have lived on a coast. However, the existence of canned fish in her recipes also suggests that by her time mass production allowed for more variety in the diet.

Newspaper clipping with meat and fish recipes,

Lastly, we can also get a sense of what appliances Perkins’ kitchen had from her commonplace book recipes. One recipe for cheese puffs requires the use of a grater, a saucepan, paper cases (similar to muffin cups), and an oven, which is a lot of work and appliances for a so-called first course at a dinner party. An article elucidating the best way to make toast scoffs at the idea of using an older toast rack, saying that it “allow[s] the heat to escape, and [is not] recommended.” Perhaps most in contrast to Banks’ difficulties with refrigeration, Perkins’ commonplace book includes handwritten recipe for homemade ice cream, calling attention to the fact that refrigeration and packaged ice were available by the early 20th century.