Yale University historian Beverly Gage takes a light approach to exploring the nation's moment in This Land is Your Land: a Road Trip Through U.S. History. Her story of visiting many famous and obscure historical sites is quite simply fun, though not without sharp and novel observations.
As part of my academic training, I took a ... tempered and realistic look at the United States, with all of its contradictions and injustices. I also learned to be skeptical of self-congratulatory narratives: progress, manifest destiny, shining-city-on-a-hill exceptionalism. Historians tend to be myth-busters. ... With the country’s semiquincentennial—or 250th birthday—on the horizon, I figured it was a good time to step out of the proverbial ivory tower and check in with the past as it exists here and now, in the third decade of the 21st century.
... I headed not for Washington, D.C., where recent mandates to teach “patriotic education” have precious little to do with the actual past. Instead, I set off to explore the museums, historic sites, roadside attractions, monuments, living-history pageants, battlefield reenactments, and souvenir shops where Americans so often go to learn—and fight—about their history. This book is a report of my travels: thirteen chapters in thirteen American places.Gage's encounter with George Washington's accomplishments and his historic home at Mount Vernon begins with the story of a slave girl, Ona Maria Judge. As a child house servant, she was carried by the Washington family first to New York City and then to Philadelphia. The Pennsylvania city was then home to more free Blacks than whites; it was the most anti-slavery corner of the new nation. When the Washington family prepared to return to Virginia after the general's presidency, Judge had other ideas.
On May 21, 1796, while the president and his wife were eating dinner, she walked out the door and never came back. By the time the Washingtons returned to Virginia, she was living and working in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, as a free woman, though Washington never reconciled himself to that fact.In visiting the historic homes of the revolutionary generation in Virginia, Gage came to what she thinks is a broadly applicable conclusion about historical preservation and display:
... Mount Vernon became a public destination thanks to private effort. In 1853, a South Carolina matron named Louisa Bird Cunningham happened to be traveling down the Potomac when, according to legend, she came upon Washington’s grand old mansion, bathed in moonlight. It was in rough shape. She worried that Washington’s legacy would be lost to the public for lack of upkeep and attention.
“If the men of America have seen fit to allow the home of its most respected hero to go to ruin, why can’t the women of America band together to save it?” she wrote to her daughter, according to a display at today’s Mount Vernon. Thus inspired, they initiated the estate’s transformation into a public attraction. They also established what would become a central feature of historic preservation: It has often been women who have the vision, dedicate the time, raise the money, and do the work.And in this iconoclastic vein, Gage's journey continues through the remnants of Andrew Jackson's Tennessee, frontier Texas and the Alamo, the astonishingly creative human energies of 19th century upstate New York abolitionists and women's suffrage activists, massacres of native people on the western frontier, and industrial strife in the nation's great cities. She recounts what took place and what remains in delightful prose, highlighting individuals both worthy and quirky.
What other historian would approach the country's invention of the atomic bomb by spending a night in a decommissioned missile silo, decorated to attract curious tourists? Outside Roswell, New Mexico, an entrepreneur has made the experience available to the curious:
The Atlas silos were accident-prone (though no nuclear explosion ever occurred). As a result, the program around Roswell lasted only a few years before being supplanted by superior technology. When military authorities pulled the missiles out in 1965, they left the silos behind: gargantuan steel-and-concrete bunkers hidden beneath the New Mexico desert. ... If I’m being honest, I was a little nervous about spending the night in an underground nuclear bunker all alone. ...
From a distance, the silo is easy to miss, little more than a concrete platform flush against the landscape. But once [her guide] pulled open the big red steel door, leading down into the residential quarters, a whole underground world emerged. [Proprietor Gary] Baker has reconstructed the silo as a combination history museum and you-are-there immersive experience. It’s cold and deathly quiet, aside from the clanging metal sound that accompanies all human movement.
Baker lives four stories down with his wife in a full-service apartment complete with running water and Wi-Fi. The Airbnb unit sits just above that. It’s a surprisingly cheery space, with a little kitchen adjoining the main living room, plus a bedroom with two single beds and a bathroom with shower. The kitchen comes fully stocked—which is convenient, since there aren’t many restaurants or grocery stores in silo country. Baker also provides plenty of subject-specific, period-appropriate reading material. I spent a few minutes flipping through Rockets and Your Future, a 1961 book aimed at persuading teenagers to enter the space business. The biggest wow in Baker’s underground lair is the silo itself, located just a few steps from the door of the guest apartment.
... The missile is long gone, of course. But it’s not hard to imagine it sitting there, encased in its underground habitat, waiting for the chance to burst up through the surface and kill hundreds of thousands of people.If the official celebration of the 250th anniversary leaves you cold, I can heartily recommend this truthful and quirky romp through the American past and present. Many of us need some cheering up about our country these days. Beverly Gage provides.
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