Sextant Volume XXI Fall 2013 by Salem State University

SEXTANT The Journal of Salem State Universityâ&#x20AC;&#x192;

INSIDE: The Gargantuan vs. The Teeny Tiny Emotional Organizations Was Nathaniel Hawthorne a Sell-Out? Fall 2013

Volume XXI, No. 1

A B O U T S E X T A N T

INVITATION TO CONTRIBUTE TO Sextant: The Journal of Salem State University Volume XXI, No. 1: Fall 2013 Editor Gayle V. Fischer, History Associate Editors Board Theresa M. DeFrancis, English Alexandros K. Kyrou, History Arthur Riss, English Stefan Schindler, Philosophy Carol A. Zoppel, Library, Instructional and Learning Support Editorial Advisory Board Marc Boots-Ebenfield, Center for Teaching Innovation Cleti A. Cervoni, Childhood Education Heidi A. Fuller, Sport and Movement Science James P. Gubbins, Interdisciplinary Studies Krishna Mallick, Philosophy Mark Malloy, Art + Design Shannon A. Mokoro, School of Social Work Leah E. Ritchie, Management Jeffrey S. Theis, English, University Center for Research and Creative Activities Keja Valens, English Graduate Research Assistant Elizabeth Melillo Design and Production Susan McCarthy, Graphic Designer, Marketing and Creative Services Sextant: The Journal of Salem State University is published once a year by the faculty and librarians of Salem State University. Opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the policies of Sextant: The Journal of Salem State University or Salem State University. Copyright © 2013

Sextant encourages readers to submit letters or comments to:

Sextant, c/o Editor

Salem State University History Department 352 Lafayette Street Salem, MA 01970-5353 Letters may be published and edited according to space. Articles may be reprinted with permission of the Editor.

Sextant

Here is a great opportunity for you to engage with the whole of the Salem State University community— contribute an article or artwork to Sextant, a peer-reviewed, faculty-led journal. Whether you are new to the faculty, staff, or administration or whether you are a senior member of the faculty, staff, or administration, you have a lot to share.

New to Salem State University?

What better way to introduce yourself than through sharing your scholarship, art, or creative writing?

A veteran in the university community?

How many of your colleagues are familiar with your scholarship? How many of your colleagues have read your fiction? How many of your colleagues know that you paint? Isn’t it time you let the SSU community know what the hours in the lab produced or unveiled that canvas or edited your essay on the challenges of teaching? While eagerly awaiting submissions for Sextant, the Associate Editors Board insists that contributions need to engage an interdisciplinary and general audience. A typical article in Sextant should be between 1,000 and 2,500 words; Sextant employs photographs with captions or original artwork to enhance articles. Authors are encouraged to suggest 4 to 5 artworks possibilities (or original, high resolution pictures) with engaging captions. Detailed information about submitting articles to Sextant may be found at salemstate.edu/sextant/. Prospective contributors are encouraged to look at back issues of Sextant before submitting work to get a sense of what we publish. Back issues may be found at issuu.com/sextantssu. Front Cover Image: The first staff of The Log, 1927 with Faculty Advisor Caroline Porter Miss Porter, an Instructor in English who taught Children’s Literature and Reading, is pictured with the first staff of Salem State’s long-running newspaper in the Fall of 1927. Not pictured is the paper’s other faculty advisor, Geography Instructor Amy Estell Ware. Back Cover Image: Salem Normal School Principal Dr. William B. Hagar surrounded by his faculty on the steps of the original school on Broad Street, 1883: Left to right, top row: Dr. Chase Palmer (Chemistry), Hager, Mary Plumer (Arithmetic, Botany, Penmanship); middle row: Lizzie Herrick (Drawing), Ellen Dodge (Mental Philosophy, English Literature, German), Elizabeth Jones (Arithmetic, Geography, Composition), Adelaide Towle (Physiology, Object Lessons, Composition); front row: Caroline Cole (History, Geography, Astronomy, English Literature and Composition); Harriet Martin (Algebra, Geometry, Book-keeping), Sophia Driver (Latin, Grammar, Geology, Geometry) and Mary Godden (U.S. History and English Grammar and Composition).

SEXTANT

Fall 2013

Volume XXI, No. 1

Macro-Micro “What do you see?” Images of the mysterious, the stunning, the grotesque are on display in this scientific art portfolio…but what is it? Can you figure out what you are looking at? Is it macro or micro?

By Paul Kelly and Stephen Young

From the Editor With a song in her heart, Gayle V. Fischer waxes lyrical about SSU colleagues and their creativity.

From the Archives Fifty-one years ago, Minor H. McClain wrote about Boston’s Civil War prison.

Advertising Hawthorne Few know that the literary giant Nathaniel Hawthorne sold himself to sell books. Even fewer know that twentieth-century advertisers used Hawthorne to sell apartments, insurance, and opportunities. By Peter Oekhlers

The Role of Emotions and Emotional Intelligence in Modern Organizations

Helping Us See Good

Do you leave your emotions at the door when you go to work? Discover why this might not be the best way to perform well on the job.

Is it possible to fight monsters and not only not become a monster in the process but learn to see good? Mystery writer Eleanor Taylor Bland dared her readers to peer into the abyss…

By Gavriel Meirovich

By Steven R. Carter

The Theater of Power at Salem State This provocative essay—part memoir/part scholarly analysis— needs to be read by everyone interested in doing the right thing.

By Geertje Wiersma

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F R O M T H E E D I T O R

What Do Editors Want? An Editor Questions Herself Gayle V. Fischer

ccasionally, I manage to be humble. However, when I don my Sextant editor chapeau (a felted affair with just the right number of jewels to lend me a sparkly aura) humility eludes me. Perhaps, it is arrogance then that persuades me to agree to an interview about my editorial responsibilities; and that same arrogance leads to the conclusion that only I am capable of interviewing me.

Having an expense account at my disposal, I waste no time in hustling my interviewee to the poshest and swankiest of dining establishments. Ensconced in the lap of luxury, I have no problem imagining myself conducting an interview with a glamorous Hollywood celebrity, who needs to be coaxed gently to reveal the secrets of success. I permit a sad sigh to escape at this point because the circumstances surrounding my interview with me are quite dull and no one, including me, wants to read a lifeless story. Although ostensibly interviewing myself, the questions are drawn from a number of sources and range from the instructive to the playful to the melancholy. G.V.F.: How do you entice SSU faculty, staff, administrators, and other potential readers to at least take a look at the contents of Sextant? Editor: I don’t know. G.V.F.: (flabbergasted by the rather blunt and brief response, attempted to rephrase the question). Wha wha wha… Editor: I’ve learned that in the world of university research magazines a small percentage of recipients actually read the magazine’s contents. I was shocked when I learned this. Apparently it doesn’t matter how good the writing is, what the articles are about, or even how pretty the pictures are, subscribers place the hard copy in their “gonna get to someday” pile and either don’t open the email from the editor or don’t click the link to the magazine. University research 2

magazine editors around the country share this frustration. A personal note appeared to be the only strategy that succeeded in promoting genuine content reading, although one editor did suggest top-of-the-line scotch might also work as a motivator. G.V.F.: (having regained some of her composure): To summarize: You are saying that “Editors Want Readers.” You mentioned other university research magazines, are university research magazines a commonplace publication? Editor: The more I learn about the world of university research magazines, the more I realize how unique Sextant is in the world of academic publications. The most obvious feature that sets us apart is the fact that we are not an alumnae periodical. The second less visible characteristic is our “amateur” staffing. In general, university research magazines employ a professional staff that includes editors, writers, photographers, and graphic designers, who write about the accomplishments of faculty, administrators, and alumnae. At Sextant, with the exception of our gifted graphic designer Susan McCarthy, we are professionals in a variety of fields (some of us with some journal publishing experience) unrelated to magazine publishing. Thus, Sextant has a “we have a barn, let’s put on a show” aura and energy. The faculty who work on Sextant do so because they recognize and want to showcase the talent of Salem State’s scholars, artists, writers, and teachers. Sextant doesn’t hire professional writers to publicize the work of faculty; faculty write and create and share their work with the university community through Sextant. G.V.F.: (finally, getting into the flow of the interview): To summarize: You are saying that “Editors Want Submissions.” Why should busy faculty submit their work to Sextant?

Editor: Although I have asked a number of times and never received a definitive answer, I cannot say to faculty that publishing in Sextant will help their tenure/ promotion case because I simply do not know. Salem State faculty should submit their work to Sextant because it is an intellectual challenge; most academics do not know how to write for “normal people.” Turning a scholarly article into an accessible, illustrated piece that retains its intellectual essence is a rewarding achievement. Everyone associated with Salem State—from high-ranking administrators to local Salem residents—wants to know what faculty do outside the classroom. Sextant provides an attractive, welcoming space for faculty to share their work. G.V.F.: To summarize: You are saying that “Editors Want ‘Good’ Reads.” Personally, I hate to be bored and when I pick up my copy of Sextant, first I look at the pictures, then I go back and read the articles— I usually save any poetry for last. What’s good in this issue of Sextant? Editor: Everything. One of my favorite things about editing Sextant is the unknown—I never know what the submissions will yield. This issue of Sextant has no fiction; for some reason fiction submissions were down. We have authors publishing with us for the first time. We are experimenting with different layouts and graphics. On a rather sad note, former history professor Minor H. McLain passed away this year; excerpts from his article about Massachusetts Civil War prisons are reprinted in this issue. G.V.F.: To summarize: You are saying that everything in this issue is worth reading or looking at. Any Sextant news you want to share with readers? Editor: Why, yes, as a matter of fact, there are several tidbits I would like to share with Sextant readers. Thank you so much for asking. First—and perhaps, most exciting— Sextant articles are going to be searchable in EBSCOhost databases such as Academic Search Premier. I can’t tell you how pleased I am about this. Meanwhile, my brilliant graduate program assistant, Beth Melillo has turned out to be a social media genius; she keeps Sextant’s Facebook page www.facebook.com/SalemStateSextant updated (please visit and “like” us); she uploaded past issues of Sextant on Issuu http://issuu.com/sextantssu—now all of your Sextant in one convenient location; she tweets; and she tries to keep me from drowning in paper and rules, which tend to overwhelm me and render me helpless. Finally, Beth is also investigating submission manager systems. Currently submissions are sent to me via email, a cumbersome process. I’ve tried finetuning and organizing my email to make the submission process easier for me to handle but nothing has worked efficiently and my mailbox is overflowing. G.V.F.: To summarize: Sextant has an online presence and will soon be searchable in a subscription database. Do writers and/or readers send you thank you notes or other acknowledgements of a job well done?

Editor: No. (laughing) That isn’t entirely true. Because I get to know the contributors to Sextant over the revision and publishing process, when the magazine is distributed most contributors approach me and tell me that they are thrilled with their piece. I can’t begin to tell you how much that acknowledgment means to mean as an editor, a colleague, and a person. What I find disappointing is that the larger university community does not seem to value Sextant. We receive an occasional note from a reader, which I cherish and share with the contributors. I’ve discovered that being editor of Sextant means accepting that the reward is a beautiful publication and the knowledge of a job well-done. G.V.F.: To summarize: A pat on the back to the contributors, the editorial boards, and the editor would be nice. Are you interested in publishing “scholarship of teaching” articles? Editor: (breaking out into a smile): We have published scholarship of teaching articles in the past. However, I think you mean “scholarly personal narratives,” which are analytical, thoughtful, and introspective essays on teaching experiences. I would love to fill an entire issue of Sextant with such essays because what happens to us in the classroom may be unique or may be shared by many and reading a well-written scholarly personal narrative has the potential to connect our community of teacher-scholars. G.V.F.: To summarize: Faculty—fulltime, parttime, tenured, tenure-track and adjunct send your scholarly personal teaching narratives to Sextant. What is the best part of being an editor? Editor: I love being an editor. Here’s the best thing: Getting to publish and celebrate the work of my SSU colleagues. G.V.F.: To summarize: You love editing Sextant. What one question do you wish I’d asked that I didn’t? And how would you answer it? Editor: (blushing with embarrassment): How quickly do you respond? I try to be prompt, but I hope people will be patient, because I am serious about reading every submission. But I get overwhelmed with all the paper. What I need is a managing editor who could take care of the day to day operating business and free me to do the creative side of editing, alas that is a dream. Thank you, Gayle. At your request: I remind SSU faculty, staff, and administrators that there is still time to submit work for the Fall 2014 issue of Sextant.

E S S A Y

Advertising Hawthorne Peter Oehlkers

n August 28, 1922, listeners to WEAF in New York heard something never heard before: a radio commercial. The theme: Nathaniel Hawthorne and “the desirability of fostering the helpful community spirit and the healthful, unconfined home life that were Hawthorne ideals.” The product: Garden apartments in Jackson Heights, Queens. The announcer, “Mr. Blackwell,” began: It is fifty-eight years since Nathaniel Hawthorne, the greatest of American fictionists, passed away. To honor his memory the Queensboro Corporation, creator and operator of the tenant-owned system of apartment homes at Jackson Heights, New York City, has named its latest group of high-grade dwellings “Hawthorne Court.” I wish to thank those within sound of my voice for the broadcasting opportunity afforded me to urge this vast radio audience to seek the recreation and the daily comfort of the home removed from the congested part of the city, right at the boundaries of God’s great outdoors, and within a few minutes by subway from the business section of Manhattan. This sort of residential environment strongly influenced Hawthorne, America’s greatest writer of fiction. He analyzed with charming keenness the social spirit of those who had thus happily selected their homes, and he painted the people inhabiting those homes with good-natured relish. There should be more Hawthorne sermons preached about the utter inadequacy and the general hopelessness of the congested city home.

Let us resolve to do so. Let me close by urging that you hurry to the apartment home near the green fields and the neighborly atmosphere right on the subway without the expense and the trouble of a commuter, where health and community happiness beckon—the community life and friendly environment that Hawthorne advocated. Most histories of American broadcasting consider Queensboro Corporation’s Hawthorne Court announcement to be the first commercial in the history of American radio. From this point forward advertising would drive the fortunes of American broadcasting—inaugurated by a lecture on the values of Nathaniel Hawthorne. This curious connection between Salem’s native son and the field of advertising has not been widely discussed, either in media or literary studies. One exception is English professor and advertising historian, James Twitchell. In his book, AdCult USA, he called the Queensboro spot the “May Day” distress call of high culture. In a later book, 20 Ads that Shook the World, Twitchell expressed doubt that Mr. Blackwell had ever read “a word of ‘America’s greatest writer of fiction,’” explaining that the “only happy people in Hawthorne’s miasmic world are loonies and crackpots.”

Most histories of American broadcasting consider Queensboro Corporation’s Hawthorne Court announcement to be the first commercial in the history of American radio. From this point forward advertising would drive the fortunes of American broadcasting—inaugurated by a lecture on the values of Nathaniel Hawthorne.

The cry of the heart is for more living room, more chance to unfold, more opportunity to get near to Mother Earth, to play, to romp, to plant, and to dig. Blackwell would speak for fifteen minutes, describing in detail the advantages of a garden apartment, co-op ownership, and the recreational opportunities in Jackson Heights. He concluded: Dr. Royal S. Copeland, Health Commissioner of New York, recently declared that any person who preached leaving the crowded city for the open country was a public-spirited citizen and a benefactor to the race. Shall we not follow this advice and become the benefactors he praises?

Twitchell sees contradictions, on the one hand between advertising and the high literary culture that Hawthorne represents, and on the other hand between Hawthorne’s worldview and “Hawthorne Court’s” specific appeal to the sunny outdoors and neighborly relations. If one looks at Nathaniel Hawthorne more thoroughly through the lens of advertising, on the contrary, one can see a richer, more interesting set of relations. While Nathaniel Hawthorne, unlike some of his contemporaries, never earned money as an advertising copywriter, his reputation and the history of his literary work have been bound up in advertising and other forms of marketing communication. And while we may question “Mr. Blackwell’s” sincerity in honoring Hawthorne’s memory, his invocation of Hawthorne to pitch garden apartments is ultimately not as mysterious as it may seem. One of the keys to unlocking this puzzle, as we will see, requires looking not at Nathaniel Hawthorne directly, but at the activities of his children. 6

Nathaniel Hawthorne and Advertising

athaniel Hawthorne, as far as we know, never wrote real advertising copy, though he did include mock ads in his short-lived “family” newspaper, The Spectator, and one can imagine that some of the “writing” he did as a teenager for his uncle’s stagecoach company might have included newspaper ads. That he had some interest in advertising can be seen from an entry in his American Notebooks, where he proposed writing: An article on newspaper advertisements— a country newspaper, methinks, rather than a city one. Hawthorne never ended up writing the article, and although other marketing communication themes, such as the stories and gimmicks of traveling peddlers, Hepzibah Pyncheon’s haplessness as a saleswoman, and the world of publicized spectacle, enter his notes and stories, advertising cannot be said to have been an enduring topic in or influence on his literary work. This is unlike, for example, his British

contemporary, Charles Dickens, who was a former jingle writer and whose serialized books themselves served as mass advertising vehicles. It is in the promotion of his works and his literary persona that advertising had the greatest influence on Nathaniel Hawthorne. Generally speaking, advertising and literary discourse have been bound together since the very beginnings of the publishing industry. According to Elizabeth Eisenstein, in her book, The Printing Press as an Agent of Change, printers, as early as the 1500s, learned that books were ideal promotional platforms, and would insert prefaces, termed “advertisements,” in order to pitch the quality of their services and gain favor with valued customers. (This use of the term “advertisement” was still in use during Hawthorne’s era). With the development of the steam press in the early to mid 1800s, the book became a commodity that required its own promotional infrastructure. James T. Fields, Hawthorne’s publisher at Ticknor and Fields, was perhaps the person most responsible in the United States for developing those promotional institutions. As detailed in Warren Tryon’s Parnassus Corner, Fields was a huge booster of book advertising, pouring money into newspaper ads promoting Ticknor and Fields books. He also seeded newspapers with positive reviews of his firm’s books (sometimes ghosted by himself) and was known to pull advertising money from publications printing negative reviews. He was also skilled at creating and leveraging publicity, as shown in his shrewd marketing of Hawthorne’s first novel. For decades high school students reading unabridged versions of the Scarlet Letter have wondered why the book takes so long to get going, dozens of pages devoted to a gossipy, satirical sketch of a Custom House that is only loosely connected to the rest of the story. It is now well established that Fields deliberately encouraged its inclusion in the book for its promotional value. Politics had driven Hawthorne from his position as surveyor at the Salem Custom House in 1849 and the ensuing

controversy became fodder for not only the local press but also the national media. Fields shrewdly capitalized on this publicity, feeding excerpts of the Custom House sketch to the press. Indeed, some of the first advertisements for the book from Salem book dealers highlighted the Custom House chapter, not the Hester Prynne story. The first edition of the novel quickly sold out and the “excitement” in Salem over the Custom House chapter ensured an immediate second edition. Hawthorne, himself, it should be noted, approved of Field’s methods, and in a letter published in Field’s book, Hawthorne, went as far as to suggest a graphic design touch: If ‘The Scarlet Letter’ is to be the title, would it not be well to print it on the title-page in red ink? I am not quite sure about the good taste of so doing, but it would certainly be piquant and appropriate, and, I think, attractive to the great gull whom we are endeavoring to circumvent. Throughout the rest of Hawthorne’s writing career and beyond, Fields continued to put money and energy into promoting Hawthorne’s works. When Hawthorne’s production began to flag, Fields arranged for new editions of older material, and published collections of autobiographical sketches and journal notes, such as Hawthorne’s memoir of his time as Consul in Liverpool, England, Our Old Home, in order to keep Hawthorne in the public eye. Indeed, ultimately it was “Nathaniel Hawthorne,” the literary persona, that Ticknor and Fields came to sell and would use, according to Richard Brodhead in School of Hawthorne, to develop a distinct brand position for Ticknor and Fields as the publisher of fine “literature,” different than the lowbrow best sellers flooding the marketplace. According to Brodhead, Ticknor and Fields were so successful that Nathaniel Hawthorne was soon ranked at the top of the list of American fiction writers and both literary critics and the public at large “took his preeminence as an unchallenged matter of fact” until the beginning of the 20th century.

Brodhead also notes that the brand, “Hawthorne,” had a very different meaning in the 19th century than it came to have in the 20th. This was not the dark, conflicted Hawthorne we know today, rather, as Brodhead puts it, he was seen as a “genial author…associated with the rhythms of nature and the white melancholy of a ‘contemplative humor.’ “ Hawthorne’s late novel, The Marble Faun, which readers today regard among the weakest of his works, was his most popular book in the 19th century, and his early sketches and essays about New England life and history were a well-known part of his oeuvre neatly packaged together, of course, by Ticknor and Fields and its successor, Houghton Mifflin.

In 1891 Julian actually wrote the essay on advertising that his father had proposed some fifty years earlier, for the advertising trade journal, Printers’ Ink. The institutions of advertising were still in their infancy during Nathaniel Hawthorne’s time, but had entered a stage of immense growth during Julian’s career. Titled, “The literary possibilities of advertising,” the essay is interesting both as a response to the general question of advertising’s relationship to literary culture and for the way it foreshadows Julian’s disastrous engagement with a particular form of advertising—direct mail marketing.

Titled, “The literary possibilities of advertising,” the essay is interesting both as a response to the general question of advertising’s relationship to literary culture and for the way it foreshadows Julian’s disastrous engagement with a particular form of advertising—direct mail marketing.

Julian Hawthorne, while largely forgotten today, was a highly visible participant in American literary circles at the turn of the century. While he initially resisted becoming a writer, after a short career as a civil engineer he turned decidedly to the pen to earn his living. In this profession he would reap the full benefit of his father’s reputation and network of associates, publishing a series of novels (with limited critical success), commercial history textbooks, and literary criticism for newspapers and magazines. Hawthorne and His Wife, published in 1884, was one of his few true commercial successes as a writer, and helped to maintain the image of the Hawthorne family as an ideal domestic situation.

In the essay overall, Julian described advertising and literature as perfectly complementary. Some aspects of advertising were worthy of literary appreciation, such as advertising’s compression of language. He also appreciated the rhetorical skill required to simulate a disarming but effective artlessness. But a recurring theme in the essay was the topic of remuneration, comparing the pay of literary writers to advertising copywriters. (Julian’s own limited success as an author looms large here.) Julian did not display resentment at the situation—highly paid copywriters offer high returns on investment. On the contrary this was an incentive for literary writers to get a piece of the action. He provided some examples:

Julian and Rose Hawthorne Discover Advertising hile Nathaniel Hawthorne’s literary reputation during the late 1800s was maintained by large institutions such as Houghton Mifflin—and ultimately, according to Brodhead, America’s entire educational establishment—it was also a family business. Hawthorne’s wife, Sophia, kept herself busy editing (some say bowdlerizing) her husband’s notebooks for publication, while Julian and Rose’s husband, George Parsons Lathrop, offered up competing critical biographies and their own edited volumes of Hawthorne’s writings.

I believe some large firms, not in the publishing business, occasionally buy all rights in the works of well-known authors and produce them in such a way as to keep the purchaser in mind of the fact that the best woolens, or soaps, or pianos (as the case may be) are to be had only at the shop where that book came from. For my part, I shall not be surprised to see this principle followed out more methodically in the future. If authors cannot support life on the royalties they receive from “regular” publishers, they must either go out of business, or sell their wares as a nucleus or vehicle of advertisements. It may go against the grain at first; but it is not a bit more derogatory than to dispose of them in any other way. 8

As long as the relationship between the writer and advertising was tasteful, there was nothing inherently wrong with it. Indeed, advertisers could use this relationship strategically through its very appeal to taste. The advertiser wishes to reach the best class of people in the most telling and effective manner. How can he do this better than by identifying himself in some way with the work of, say, a popular novelist? Julian Hawthorne might as well have been talking directly about “Hawthorne Court” itself. Two decades later Julian took up the challenge of advertising copywriting in the literary mode. This adventure into direct mail marketing would leave him imprisoned for mail fraud and would damage the family name. There were two components to Hawthorne’s participation in what was ultimately revealed to be a Canadian mine investment scam. First, he would lend his name and draw on his connections in a “personalized” letter pitching the credible opportunities presented by the mine in Northern Ontario. Second he would write long-form pitches in booklets distributed through a syndicate, printed under the titles, “The Secret of Solomon,” and “Julian Hawthorne & Company.”

review in the trade publication, Mining and Scientific Press, stated the main objection clearly: …[R]eally and truly this romance which we have just read is the most astounding! The worthy customs officer of Salem, even when he filled The House of Seven Gables with gruesome mystery, never dreamed such dreams as have been inspired in his son Julian by the lure of Mr. Eze Mark’s pocket. While Julian never admitted his guilt in this affair-he himself had been duped into believing the hole in the ground in Cobalt, Ontario was an actual mine--he was sentenced to a year in prison in 1913. The scandal was widely and heavily publicized in the national press and served to harm the Hawthorne brand that had been so carefully maintained. Indeed, the fact that Julian had “sullied” the proud family name was part of his defense’s appeal for lenience in sentencing.

The letters displayed the studied artlessness that Julian admired so much in contemporary advertising. As described in a report in the New York Times during his trial: Julian Hawthorne’s name seems to have been the great drawing card of the defendants. Every one knew him or his father by reputation, and when he sent out letters to his friends or to those who were on his associates’ lists they were couched in unbusinesslike phraseology and seemed like the honest advice of a man unused to promotions, who was seeking a little extra capital to carry to success enterprises that appeared to him to be good things. In contrast, Julian used a more overtly literary style for his booklets: the epigrammatic. The booklets told the tale of “Opportunity” and the sorry fate of those who fail to “open the door” when she knocks. The press reprinted such epigrams as, “The only way to get money out of the ground is to dig it out of the ground.” Not all readers, however, approved of Julian Hawthorne’s commercial writing. This 1910 9

If Julian’s forays into advertising had been disastrous for his career and bad for the Hawthorne brand, his sister Rose’s advertising efforts were highly effective for her cause and served, ultimately, to redress whatever damage had been done to the Hawthorne family name. Rose’s cause was the care of incurably ill and destitute cancer patients of all races and creeds. In 1896, she had separated from her husband and moved to the Lower East Side of Manhattan to work on establishing a refuge for cancer victims. By 1900 she had become a Dominican nun and the founder of her own order under the name, Mother Mary Alphonsa. But before this she had written her own Hawthorne book, Memories of Hawthorne, comprised largely of family correspondence. And she had turned to advertising to solicit money for a new Home for poor cancer victims. In L.M. Pingree’s unproduced 1990 screenplay, Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Daughter, the choice to advertise represented a turning point in the fortunes of Rose’s cause: ALICE [Huber]: But we have no money for a down payment or any collateral! The bank won’t extend a mortgage loan under such conditions. MRS LATHROP [Rose]: True. First, I will advertise for donations in all newspapers throughout the state of New York—all of the United States if need be! From this point on appeals by Rose, and then Mother Alphonsa, became a regular presence in the New York Times and other newspapers. Indeed she is now considered an innovator in the art of nonprofit marketing. While her efforts were sometimes told in regular news stories, Rose’s voice was most often heard in the form of long, persuasive letters. In 1914 these direct appeals were supplemented and eventually replaced by a regular display ad in the “Charities” section of the New York Times. 10

On April 16 1922, a few months before the Hawthorne Court commercial, Maurice Francis Egan (a friend of the family who was doing Rose a favor) ran a full page “review” of a series of “Reports of the servants of relief for incurable cancer,” penned by Mother Alphonsa from 1908 to 1922. The article, more an autobiographical essay by Mother Alphonsa than a true review of her writing, featured an enormous portrait of her father in the center of the page and was titled, “A Legacy from Hawthorne.” In the article, Egan made the case that Rose’s charity flowed directly from the values of Nathaniel Hawthorne and he allowed Mother Alphonsa to explain that while her concern about cancer emerged as a result of the premature death of her friend, Emma Lazarus, her choice to minister to the needs of the cancerous poor came directly from a passage in her father’s book, Our Old Home, specifically the chapter on “English Poverty,” in which Hawthorne told the story of how he overcame his pathological fear of ugliness, allowing a child deformed by illness to sit on his lap. Thus Rose/Mother Alphonsa created a strong connection between her efforts and the work/person of her father, and drawing a picture of Nathaniel Hawthorne as Christ-like, helped to sustain his reputation and draw additional legitimacy for her own cause. Displaying her promotional savvy, Mother Alphonsa leveraged the Egan piece in a follow-up ad in the New York Times that ran on June 14, 1922. Before delivering one more call to action to donate money for the new fireproof home, Mother Alphonsa dropped her own literary endorsement, Hawthorne Court style. The author of this endorsement: Mark Twain.

Nathaniel Hawthorne and Garden Apartments

n 1910 Queensboro Corporation acquired hundreds of acres of farmland in Jackson Heights, Queens and began building apartment complexes. The pattern of development was unique, imagined as a cohesive community with an outdoor feel. Each of the “garden apartment” complexes spanned a city block and contained an inner park-like courtyard. A community golf course and tennis courts provided opportunities for outdoor recreation. Coop ownership and a train stop allowing a direct commute to Manhattan made Jackson Heights attractive and affordable to the middle class.

Queensboro aggressively marketed these facts through heavy and often innovative advertising. During the early 1920s the New York Times ran Jackson Heights ads almost every day. Queensboro also experimented with “advertorials” (advertising disguised as news stories). The lead appeal in most of these ads was the co-op ownership model, which protected tenants from sudden rent hikes (a real problem in New York during this era). By the summer of 1922, however, Queensboro ads began to focus on the lifestyles available in Jackson Heights. Ads also emphasized that the Jackson

Heights apartments were “restricted,” a fact that we will return to momentarily. The Queensboro Hawthorne Court commercial that ran on August 28 highlighted the sunny and healthful garden apartment lifestyle. And contra James Twitchell, there is a passage in Hawthorne that does directly discuss the benefits of this kind of life—in Our Old Home, the very book invoked by his daughter in the New York Times earlier in the year. In the chapter, “A London Suburb,” Hawthorne described his life in a country home fifteen minutes from the center of London. He expressed particular delight with his home’s “garden” (i.e., backyard). Hence it happened that, living within a quarter of an hour’s rush of the London Bridge Terminus, I was oftener tempted to spend a whole summer day in our garden than to seek anything new or old, wonderful or commonplace, beyond its precincts….The effect was wonderfully sylvan and rural, insomuch that we might have fancied ourselves in the depths of a wooded seclusion; only that, at brief intervals, we could hear the galloping sweep of a railway-train passing within a quarter of a mile, and its discordant screech, moderated by a little farther distance, as it reached the Blackheath Station.

part of the pitch, as in a February 5, 1922 ad, which highlighted the fact that: Nowhere else in New York is there a highly restricted residential Community similar to Jackson Heights. In practice this meant that blacks, Jews, and Catholics, were excluded. Jackson Heights was designed as a haven for Americans of Anglo-Saxon heritage. While Nathaniel Hawthorne is not necessarily implicated in this policy, it is worth noting that he did fit the bill as representing a kind of ideal deeply-rooted white Anglo-Saxon family man. So there is, finally, some coherence in the claims of “Hawthorne Court” to represent, at least in part, the values of Nathaniel Hawthorne. The fact that this connection can be found in a relatively obscure Hawthorne work recently brought back into the public’s eye by Hawthorne’s daughter may be less important to this coherence than the fact that Rose/Mother Alphonsa offered up an explicit model of how to use her father’s putative values for marketing purposes. Of course, Queensboro (closer to Julian than Rose in spirit) chose to use that model to market an escape from the very social context that Nathaniel Hawthorne’s daughter wanted his values to save. But even Rose/Mother Alphonsa would withdraw upstate, to a town that would later be renamed Hawthorne, NY.

Jennifer Wicke, in her groundbreaking 1988 book, Advertising Fictions, . . . Hawthorne Court represented a “May Day” argues that too often advertising is taken distress call from high culture, not because of the as a kind of “other” opposed to literary value, and elects instead to explore the essential contradictions between advertising and deep affinities between literary and advertising discourse. This essay shares literary value but because it marked the beginning her perspective. At the same time, Wicke of a rift between literary and marketing discourse . . . deliberately stops her analysis in 1922, the year James Joyce’s Ulysses was published, and the year that modern, commercially driven broadcasting began. Perhaps Twitchell is right after While Hawthorne in these passages did not express similar all—that Hawthorne Court represented a “May Day” delight in friendly neighborly relations (indeed, he could be distress call from high culture, not because of the essential quite critical of “the British”), he did describe a community contradictions between advertising and literary value but that was structured very much like Hawthorne Court: because it marked the beginning of a rift between literary Two or three of such village streets as are here and marketing discourse—the end of an era when a figure described take a collective name—as, for like Nathaniel Hawthorne could be put before the mass instance, Blackheath Park,—and constitute a kind public to sell things. (Salem, Massachusetts, excepted.) of community of residents, with gateways, kept by a policeman, and a semi-privacy, stepping beyond which, you find yourself on the breezy heath. Peter Oehlkers is an associate professor in the In fact, it was a later British model of urban planning, the “garden city,” that directly inspired Andrew J. Thomas, the principle designer of the Jackson Heights complexes. There is another less “genial” British relationship to Hawthorne Court, however, that needs to be addressed. Jackson Heights was openly “restricted.” Throughout Queensboro advertising one will see the notice, “Social and Business References Required.” Occasionally, this became

Communications Department at Salem State University. He teaches classes in copywriting, global communication and environmental communication. This essay is dedicated to the memory of Sandy Fowler, an enthusiastic supporter of the project.

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E S S A Y

The Role of Emotions and Emotional Intelligence in Modern Organizations Gavriel Meirovich

Happy individuals might take shortcuts in mental processes and perform poorly on the job.

here is an increasing interest in the role of emotions in organizations. Researchers and practitioners now broadly recognize that emotions play a significant role in organizational life. Often referred to as “affective revolution” this new paradigm endeavors to overcome the shortcomings of the previously dominant overly rationalist tradition according to which emotions are counterproductive, irrational, and unreliable. We all hear phrases such as: “Let’s not get excited;” “Leave emotions at the door;” “Curb your enthusiasm,” etc. Admitting to emotions in a workplace runs counter to that conventional wisdom. Imagine yourself as a customer. Your satisfaction (dissatisfaction) is doublefold: it includes both a cognitive side and an emotional side. If service is good, above your expectations, the ensuing emotion is likely to be positive, e.g. delight; if quality is poor, the probable emotional outcome will be a negative emotion, e.g. anger. Further, can you imagine a delighted customer interacting with an unemotional provider? There is a phenomenon of emotional contagion. In the service industry quality is the result of interaction between parties during the process. If one party feels something, another party will probably feel the same. Same principle applies to employee satisfaction—its cognitive, evaluative side (e.g. good salary, appealing work) is complemented by emotional side (e.g. happiness, contentment). In another instance, if you want to persuade somebody (to “sell” your idea)—should you be completely rational and unemotional? Probably not.

Thinking

Emotions vs. Moods

e need to discriminate between two types of affective states: emotions and moods. Emotions are specific, related to particular object or event (rude provider—angry customer; good conversation with a boss—relief etc.); they are short lived. Moods linger longer; they are diffused, not specifically related to an event, and less intense. When somebody is in good or bad mood it is generally difficult to say why. Acknowledgement of the essential role of emotions and moods does not imply an intuitively plausible idea that we should stay on the positive side of emotional spectrum while negative emotions and moods are counterproductive and should be suppressed. This stance is expressed even in popular books on management— after all we need to create a positive work environment! Encouraging only positive affective responses creates a shallow culture, commensurate to using the so called “Country Club” leadership style with the primary objective of pleasing everybody at the expense of performance. This style involves the highest concern for relationships and the lowest concern for task (production). Whether positive or negative emotions lead to beneficial or detrimental outcomes depends on an individual’s emotional intelligence.

Emotions

motions and cognition (thinking) are deeply intertwined. On the one hand, cognitive processes trigger emotions. On the other hand, emotions impact cognition, thinking. For example strong fear stifles creativity, but mild fear produces awareness and attention to details. Emotional outbursts should be controlled because they hamper cognitive processes and lead to interpersonal conflicts. And sometimes we need to curb our enthusiasm to concentrate on the problem at hand. But even strong emotions can be helpful. For instance, an individual can channel anger into extra vigilance with regard to task performance if she possesses high emotional intelligence. Anger also can increase motivation to change unjust situations. The complex interplay between affect and cognition can take the form of a virtuous cycle in which productive emotions and enhanced cognition reinforce each other and create a healthy foundation for the continuous improvement of performance. It might also produce a downward spiral with detrimental consequences. Research results demonstrate that if you suppress emotions, you remember less; such suppression increases the difference between expressed and felt emotions. Since emotions do not go anywhere, part of your energy is spent on so called Emotional Labor—the effort to show sociallyaccepted, rather than actually-felt, emotions. This creates additional stress. And we are not very good at hiding emotions—facial expressions and other non-verbal signals betray us.

An example of using low emotional volume might be when a manager gives instructions.

Negative/Positive Emotions

tudies showed that negative affect can be beneficial: For instance mild apprehension (in contrast to intense fear that can paralyze and immobilize) can be beneficial in that it can motivate us to recheck our assumptions; to focus on details, be more concentrated. Changing moods boosts creativity. When you are in a sad mood you think more systematically than in a happy mood. Imagine that you are listening to a proposal— everybody

seems to like it but you have some uneasy feelings about it. You should not shut it down; emotions (especially negative) draw attention to problems. When we ignore them we have fewer chances to identify these problems. By the same token, positive emotions do not always lead to favorable outcomes. Positive emotions may encourage people to take shortcuts in their mental processes and lead to decreased performance on tasks involving complex mental activity. Happy individuals tend to “view the world through rose colored glasses” and are less prone to analyzing causes of a problem. At the same time, research has shown the benefits of positive emotions and moods vs. negative ones. Positive affect facilitates creativity, cognitive flexibility, innovative responding, and openness to information. Positive affect impacted various outcomes such as task performance, satisfaction with job and relationships, self-esteem, attitude toward group activities, and various types of social participation. An additional argument for staying on the positive side of the emotional continuum is that emotions are closely related to customer satisfaction. By integrating the two schools of thought, we can argue that emotional climate in the workplace should be predominantly rather than totally positive; an optimal balance of emotions in terms of their valence should tilt to the positive side.

Boosting Your Emotional Intelligence

motional Intelligence is one of the most fascinating elements of “affective revolution.” Unlike cognitive intelligence which remains relatively stable, emotional intelligence can be enhanced. It involves three dimensions: (1) accurately perceiving (reading) one’s and others’ emotions; (2) understanding causes and connections between different emotions, how they change from one to another; (3) managing (not equal to suppressing!) one’s and others’ emotions. Let us address these components: 1. Signals: Emotions are perceived through nonverbal signs. There is a simple rule: if there is a contradiction between verbal signals (words) and nonverbal signals (facial expressions, tone and pitch of a voice, body language) you should trust nonverbal signals. When a person shouts: “What do you mean I am angry!!! I am not angry, you hear me!!!”—then he is indeed angry and probably does not accurately perceive his own emotional state. Examples of body language: arms folded show defensiveness, arms open indicates openness; leaning forward—interest, away from you—rejection; “poker face”—lack of interest; and eyes are not crinkling —faked smile. Instances of tone and pitch would include: monotone—boredom; high speed and empathetic pitch—enthusiasm; ascending tone—surprise; terse, loud tone—anger.

Body language often signals emotions and should be read in conjunction with verbal signals.

The importance of reading emotional signals can be demonstrated by the following example. Imagine that you are trying to persuade a potential customer to buy your product or your boss to accept an idea; he seems to agree, but you read non-verbal signs of apprehension, confusion, and non-confidence. Do not disregard these emotional signals; ask him to ask questions and share his concerns. This can make a difference between successful and failed interaction. Emotions are valid signals, they convey important information; a person who shuts them down does not get that information.

expressing themselves. There is a certain anxiety and fear of being disapproved or even ridiculed. Participation may be affected by the emotional climate of the workplace and the employees’ level of confidence. In this situation, a leader should put more attention and effort in building supportive relationships and a favorable affective climate than on specific instructions.

Reduced level of emotionality is appropriate when a manager gives specific step-by-step instructions which need to be thoroughly implemented by followers. Such instructions must be 2. Causes: Understanding provided in a matter of fact causes of these symptoms. An This hard-working employee obviously feels appreciated by his employer— manner, keeping emotions angry customer is a sign of bad what else could explain the smile? out of the picture. Another quality; an angry employee—of example of using low emotional volume is dealing with an unjust situation. If a customer is anxious or confused— conflicts and misconduct in the workplace, such as constant he is in a state of ambiguity, which may be caused by the underperformance (lateness) and bullying behavior. A inconsistent quality of a provider. If he is bored, then he manager has to stay calm and reduce emotions (mostly experiences lack of novelty and variety, for instance the negative in this case) to a minimal level so as not to let same meals offered at a restaurant. subordinates get carried away by them. At the same time, Emotions are not random; there is a certain pattern in keeping affective state low does not mean ignoring or their sequences. For example: a student earns a bad grade disconnecting from emotional signals. Negative emotions, on the midterm; what is the possible emotional sequence? e.g. anger, are valid indicators of problems that occur in the It can go several ways: surprise—frustration—anger— workplace; they play a role in diagnosing symptoms that depression or surprise—frustration—motivation to change expose the existence of challenges that need to be addressed which leads later to a good grade—relief—higher selfrationally, analyzed, and resolved. confidence. 3. Managing: Managing emotions does not mean their suppression. Some situations call for high emotionality, others call for low emotional arousal. Examples of high emotional engagement include team celebrations, which create patterns of “success breeds success;” a visionary speech by a leader (“I have a dream” kind of speech). Another instance is dealing with a rookie employee who does not know all nuances of his job yet but has a willingness to learn. A manager ought to be open and informal, genuinely encouraging the employee to ask questions, which quite often the employee is reluctant to do. He needs to be perceptive to the symptoms of anxiety, fear, and stress and relieve them in timely fashion. This cannot be done in an unemotional mode. Higher emotional engagement is also useful in participative practices such as discussions and teamwork. Discussion is useful only when members possess certain information and knowledge to partake in it; however, even with these prerequisites, they may have difficulty

Emotional Flexibility

he emotionally intelligent person should be emotionally flexible and resilient; she needs to change affective responses according continuously changing situations. She has, so to speak, to push constantly on the pedals of emotional “gas” and “brakes” in order to keep things in order. Emotional rigidity, e.g. inability to contain anger or being constantly unemotional, does not let a person change conduct appropriately. Sometimes a manager needs to increase emotional arousal, at other times she needs to reduce it.

How to Increase Arousal? 1. Work and Play: Combine work and play. Work defines what we do for a living; we produce something of value. Play is something we enjoy, some activity that produces pleasure for a doer; an activity where we use imagination and creativity.

2. Informal and Lively: In order to keep spirits high a manager’s conduct has to be informal and lively. The value of having a sense of humor must not be underrated. Funny things said in the workplace are not just for the sake of joviality; rather, they reduce the distance between manager and employees. Studies showed that when used skillfully, humor enhances interpersonal relationships; creates rapport between a manager and employees; relieves tensions and pressure in the workplace; produces a safe environment in which employees feel able to try new things. 3. Face-to-Face: The same message can be conveyed through various channels of communication. Richer channels such as face-to-face meetings are better tools for conveying emotions and uplifting affective arousal.

2. Causes: As was mentioned earlier, emotions are symptoms that can be traced to their causes. For instance, anger is the reaction to injustice; anxiety—a reaction to ambiguity and uncertainty. A manager should be very keen on the issue of fair treatment of different employees in such areas as evaluation, giving equal attention in workplace, giving opportunity to speak up, and applying the same rules to everybody. Anxiety may be reduced by providing clear and reasonable expectations, procedures and rules; avoiding unpleasant surprises, maintaining consistency in behavior. By the same token, as novelty increases emotional volume, consistency tends to reduce it. 3. Active Listening: Excessive emotions can be reduced by reflective listening. It involves such elements as acute perception of emotions through nonverbal signals of a speaker; asking specific questions (where, when, what) but refraining from asking too many closed questions which require yes/no answers; using as-amatter-of-fact tone; avoiding interruptions especially when a person is overwhelmed by emotions and needs to get rid of “steam.” These techniques are commonly known but require considerable and constant practice in order to keep pertinent skills sharp.

As mentioned earlier emotional intelligence may be improved. However, improvement cannot happen without putting forth effort. Like any other skill, we can enhance emotional Although no discussion is taking place at the moment, the cooperative work atmosphere suggests that the employees are intelligence by deliberately and consistently working on emotionally in tune with one another. it. Outcomes would be better performance, improved relationships with peers, and higher job satisfaction. 1. Tone it Down: By the same token as using a less rich channel constitutes a disadvantage when we try to Gavriel Meirovich is currently an Associate increase emotional intensity, it becomes an advantage when Professor in Bertolon School of Business at Salem we need to reduce it. The fact that low-richness channels State University, Salem, MA. He was born in do not convey emotions is not necessarily a drawback Russia and taught at Ben-Gurion University (e.g. criticizing privately in email, which others do not and Sapir Academic College, Israel. His research have access to). Unlike face-to-face meetings, email and interests comprise emotional intelligence, total other computer-based channels do not require immediate quality management, cross-cultural comparative reaction, which tend to be spontaneous and more studies, and quality of higher education. He is an author of 17 published papers in peeremotional. A receiver has time and space to comprehend reviewed journals. He also worked as a business the proper response without time and environmental consultant and participated in projects referring pressure. This allows her not to be overwhelmed by intense to improvement of quality of products and emotions and to think logically and rationally. services and internal processes both in businesses

How to Decrease Arousal?

Kim Mimnaugh

and non-profit organizations. As a member of Academy of Management he participated in several conferences and made six presentations there. Professor Meirovich may be reached at gmeirovich@salemstate.edu.

E S S A Y

Helping Us See Good: Eleanor Taylor Bland’s See No Evil Steven R. Carter

s the title of Eleanor Taylor Bland’s mystery novel See No Evil implies, she is ultimately less concerned with crime and social disorders, though these are prominent and important to her story and her view of life, than with evil. Crime and social disorders are defined by laws and/or criminal codes and are often grounded in social conditions, such as poverty, racism and sexism. Evil is an ethical and/or religious concept emphasizing intent and persistence in motivation. These two concepts can and often do overlap. However, arguably the deepest and purest form of evil is rooted in conscious rationally controlled malevolence defiant of or unrelated to social forces and definitions. In the lowest level of Hell envisioned by Dante, one of the world’s foremost experts on evil, the ultimate sinners are those who are encased in ice because they totally lack empathy with others and use their often formidable intelligence to perform hideous acts of harm to others. Moreover, like all the sinners in his Inferno, they have persisted in their desires or acts of violence and betrayal until the last minute of their lives unlike those in his Purgatorio who have been capable of remorse and therefore also of salvation. Bland’s most vicious villain in See No Evil, the man who hides in the detective’s home and plots the slaughter of her entire family, ends up in jail for his crimes, but his coldhearted calculations and total lack of remorse places him, beyond doubt, in the lowest level of Dante’s Hell.

Racism throughout American history has always been an evil involving hatred, immorality and abuse but for a large and disgraceful period of time it was legally supported and only in recent times has it been widely perceived as a social disorder and, when accompanied by violence, as a form of hate crime. As a result, far too many African Americans have had encounters with this form of evil. It is easy to understand why most African American authors in any genre, including detective fiction, have chosen to write about the problems African Americans have had with this particular evil. However, it is also true that like any other human being they have faced other evils as well both from outside themselves and within. As extraordinary poet, novelist and essayist June Jordan has observed, African Americans “need to abhor and defy definitions of Black heritage and Black experience that suggest we are anything less complicated, less unpredictable than the whole world” (Civil Wars, 85). Eleanor Taylor Bland is one notable African American detective writer who has taken Jordan’s view to heart and emphasized the complexity of the African American experience. She has also taken as her theme for all her detective novels about African American policewoman Marti McAllister the need to see evil not just in its manifestation in racism but in its manifold forms and to do something about it, though she addresses it most directly and most tellingly in See No Evil. 17

“is herself black, she does not regard herself as any one nationality or race—her mother was a white German” (57). At the same time, though, Bland has given her protagonist, MacAlister, an African American mother as well as an African American father and shown her involved in the African American community as well as interacting with whites. Moreover, the destructive consequences of racism and prejudice are in the forefront of three of her novels— As Bland’s primary seer, Marti McAllister is a remarkable figure with both breadth and depth and her vision of life is complex Done Wrong and Tell No Tales in which white policemen full of contempt for blacks and other minorities do great harm and intriguing. According to Paula L. Woods, “Bland describes to the people they despise and Whispers in the Dark in which Marti as a police officer who is committed to not abuse power, the terrible consequences of exclusion are delineated. In but who does not want to be excluded from exercizing it in her fact, compassion and respect for the unfairly excluded has life and work” (277). She is also a woman of conscience whose been a running theme in Bland’s series from the first novel, way is not always clear to her. She is a warm-hearted, deeply Dead Time, which focuses on a multiracial group of runaway caring mother, and a warm heart is as much a sign of goodness children who were never reported missing and several as a cold heart is a sign of evil. Still, while steadfastly devoted to mentally ill African American adults to Native American her children’s welfare, she is a dedicated professional whose job keeps her out often and faces her with children gone bad through and African American excluded artists in the ninth novel, Whispers in the Dark. parental absence. A strong-willed widow about to be remarried, she struggles to balance memories with hopes and a long sustained Notable insights into Marti’s character are provided by independence with a long suppressed longing for dependence. A the two ways in which she is tested as a mother in See No firm minded and sympathetic guardian of the oppressed, she can Evil. First, on many occasions throughout the novel while be torn inside when a brutalized victim turns out to be the killer of she and her family are out of the house, a man enters it and another equally brutalized victim. She is an appropriately complex hides from sight intent on planning their destruction. Even bearer of a vision of our complex world. though Marti finally sees him and saves her family (with a significant assist from her daughter Joanna), she also has Marti’s character and vision are well presented in Bland’s to see both the extent of their vulnerability and her own fifth novel, See No Evil. As a novel focused on seeing and not seeing, it effectively opens our eyes both to Marti’s strengths and responsibility in leaving them alone so often. vulnerabilities and to what is most representative and significant The second way in which she is tested is through her about Bland’s body of work. It also shows off the outstanding encounter with J. D., a ten year old gang follower whose ability to blend plot, especially the puzzle part of the plot that parents have often lectured him on the evils of gangs. predominates in classic detective fiction, and theme that lifts her Unfortunately, their frequent absences have given J. D. not work into the top level of detective writing. Exploring it in detail only an opportunity but also an incentive to join a gang. gives us a wide and useful vista on all her work. Ironically, moreover, the gang recruiter, Sky Pop, sees Bland’s complex view of the world and the possibilities inherent himself as a better parent to the boys than their real ones in the detective genre go far beyond this, however. She uses what since he cares for them, pays attention to them, and teaches them about she knows about class and race to enrich and remodel the form. such valuable Mike Ashley, the compiler of The Mammoth Encyclopedia of Modern matters as how Crime Fiction, has argued that “racial issues to steal, do drugs, do not predominate the MacAlister and protect series” since, even though Bland 18

themselves against the police. Understandably horrified both by what has happened to J. D. and by his parents’ role in this, Marti has to reflect on the consequences of her own frequent absences. One positive side of these tests is that Marti sees the strength and independence she has instilled in her daughter Joanna. When Joanna is made a hostage by the intruder, she exhibits no panic and manages to get free from him using self-defense techniques she learned from a policeman, thus demonstrating that Marti’s profession has made a positive contribution to the development of one of her children. In addition, Joanna’s timing for this self-defense maneuver comes from seeing a hand movement made by her mother. Marti can therefore take pride in her daughter’s courage and ability to take care of herself and in her own contributions to Joanna’s development. At the same time, these events finally open her eyes to the need to take more time off to be with her family and she does so.

This compels her to acknowledge that a victim in one context can be a victimizer in another. Another dimension of Marti’s character is shown by her relationship with Ben Walker. While warm memories of her dead husband Johnny make her reluctant to form an attachment to Ben Walker, a widower with one child to her two, she finds herself doing so anyway. Although naturally concerned about the impact of a remarriage on her children, she takes comfort in the close relationship developing between her son Theo and Ben’s son Mike. Moreover, she sees how effectively they can work together when they take on an interfering teacher who wants to separate their two boys. While remaining worried about the dangerous part of Ben’s work as a paramedic, she knows that her own work is also dangerous, and after her own home is invaded she is forced to admit that she isn’t “okay” and that she would like to “sit down and cry” because she doesn’t “feel safe here anymore” (273 – 274). This is a striking admission for her since she has long had to be a pillar of strength for her fatherless children and for the victims she had to comfort and protect in her job. Clearly, this does not mean that she is about to become weak and clinging, but it does imply that she will be more willing to receive support in the future while continuing to give it to others.

series” (57). Sexual abuse, particularly of children, is among the worst of evils. Some of the victims of abuse who have gained Marti’s sympathy and support are her colleague Denise Stevens and her two sisters in Gone Quiet, Natalie Beatty in Keep Still and Opal Jahnke and Essie Wojtowicz in Scream in Silence. In See No Evil, the cases of Ladiya Norris and Azalea Knox have a profound effect on her. Both women were severely abused by Bernard Knox, Azalea’s husband and Ladiya’s lover, and it appears that both were also killed by him. Marti is perhaps most distressed by the fact that Ladiya was killed at a time when she was beginning to get her life back together since she was planning to get off of drugs, have her baby, and return home to her decent, caring mother. However, she has also been disturbed by the sight of Azalea Knox in the hospital and by her desire to have her mother take her children back to Jamaica, the birthplace she had formerly failed to appreciate, to get them away from her brutal husband. She feels even more sympathy for Azalea when she is told that her husband has finally beaten her to death. Thus, it is especially shocking for her to learn that Azalea, not Bernard, is the one who killed Ladiya. This compels her to acknowledge that a victim in one context can be a victimizer in another. As W. H. Auden observed in his poem “September 1, 1939,” “Those to whom evil is done/Do evil in return” (lines 21-22). While undoubtedly weakening some of her sympathy for Azalea and perhaps making her wonder about other people she has perceived as victims, this revelation doesn’t prompt her to sympathize with Bernard or make her wish to see him go unpunished for her murder. As her failure to guess that Azalea Knox was guilty of murder demonstrates, Marti, though highly intelligent and perceptive, is not all seeing and all knowing as many classic detectives, including C. Auguste Dupin, Sherlock Holmes and Philo Vance, have been. Her perceptiveness has limits and she has occasional blind spots. This mixture of insight and blindness is most evident when she is explaining to her partner, Vic Jessenovik, why Azalea had remained in an abusive relationship with her husband. She tells Vik about Maslow’s theory that “if you’re preoccupied with safety and physical needs, you can’t develop selfesteem” and agrees with Vic’s restatement of this as

As a police officer, Marti has been always supportive to victims, especially those who have suffered various forms of abuse. Mike Ashley noted that Bland herself “is involved in several social support programmes including a shelter for homeless mothers and their children and a treatment centre for sexually abused children and these issues reoccur throughout the 19

Eleanor Taylor Bland 1944 – 2010 Eleanor Taylor Bland was born in Boston, but left when she was 14 years old after marrying a sailor named Anthony Bland. She and her husband stayed together for 31 years and had two children. After this time, they divorced and she experienced life as a single mother while working as an accountant and trying to become a writer. Eventually, she gained attention for her mysteries and became closely identified with Waukegan, Illinois, which she thinly disguised as Lincoln Prairie in her detective fiction. Bland began writing with a special sense of urgency when, according to fellow mystery writer Sara Paretsky, editor of Women on the Case, she “was diagnosed with cancer” with only two years to live and “decided that getting her college degree and publishing a book were two things she needed to accomplish in her lifetime” (77) This sense of urgency remained, though the crisis passed and she produced many outstanding books, since she felt that each work might be the last and wanted to be sure that she had said everything important she had to say. In fact, she felt a sense of urgency about everything she did, including serving on the board of the Waukegan Public Library, participating in writers’organizations like Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America, reading manuscripts and giving advice to fledgling writers, helping out homeless mothers and their children as well as sexually abused children, devotedly caring for her own children and grandchildren, and, of course, writing, writing, writing. She finally died of cancer in Waukegan on June 2, 2010, 35 years after her diagnosis and death sentence.

“So people who let people beat up on them don’t like themselves” (198). She extends this line of thought by asking “Why the hell else would you put up with being knocked around if you didn’t think you deserved it?” (199) and then thinks momentarily about Sharon, the friend who shares her house and responsibility for her children and Sharon’s daughter. The problem here is that she then dismisses her insight about Sharon on the assumption that Sharon likes herself too much and has reason for pride in herself as an award-winning teacher. However, the author has already shown readers Sharon’s thinking, and we already know that Sharon worries about aging and how much longer she can attract men. By dismissing this momentary insight, Marti fails to see the full depth of Sharon’s weakness with her current Mr. Wonderful, Phillip, the man who turns out to be the intruder intent on killing not only Sharon but also Marti and her family. On the other hand, there is no way that Marti, even if she had held on to her insight about Sharon, could have foreseen the sick plans of Phillip or known that he had been in her home. Another thing she fails to see clearly, although she steadfastly fights it, is the nature of evil itself, why it exists. Ladiya Norris’s mother asks her about how someone “can someone just take all that you have, walk away,… and not even care” and Marti can’t answer. She “heard the explanations—lack of empathy, an inability to recognize or internalize someone else’s pain—but she didn’t understand it at all” (155). This explanation fits Sharon’s evil Mr. Wonderful, Philip, whom Marti has yet to meet and his evil will be even more difficult to comprehend since it is directed against her and her family. In fact, Philip’s evil lies outside many attempts to understand heartless viciousness in social background since he is rich, handsome and attractive to women. It is highly significant that while Marti is faced with her various imperfections and recognizes her need to do better, she is strongly opposed to the imbalanced push for perfection. This is shown most directly in the meetings she and her fiancé Ben have with the teacher who wants to separate their sons because she thinks that Marti’s son Theo may be prevented from reaching perfection in his studies by Ben’s less gifted, more fun-loving son Mike. Marti tells the teacher that Theo “is already a perfectionist” and that she is “putting some limits on the time he spends on homework and insisting he have a social life too” (118).

In addition to creating a troubling imbalance, other serious problems in the novel are linked to excessive concern with perfection, such as creating feelings of inferiority, hindering development and provoking rebellion. Foremost among them is interference with empathy. Dare, a homeless man with a warm heart, has been forbidden by his mother whose religious views highly inhibit empathy to enter her house until he abandons his drinking. Sharon remembers that Philip, the evil Mr. Wonderful totally lacking in empathy, “lived in a house where everything seemed arranged with such precision” and “it was as if there was nothing about either of us that [his parents] approved of, and he was their son” (272). Philip himself, while hidden in Marti’s house which she shares with Sharon, reflects that “there was no quiet place where [the children] could sit and reflect on their imperfections when they did not meet their parents’ expectations.… They were bad children, being raised by bad parents. They all deserved to die” (264).

Though they live their lives in a largely independent way, they depend on each other and have a close relationship. Thus, when Dare disappears, Isaac, who is by far the less social of the two, makes a lot of inquiries about him. While he reflects that he lived independently before meeting Dare and can do so again, Isaac misses him and would greatly prefer to share his life with Dare if he should reappear. Dare’s death is both tragic and heroic. In fact, it can be said that he fully lived up to his nickname (his given name is George Washington). When Dare and Isaac are forced to relocate across from a drug house, Dare becomes concerned for the community they now live in and is especially worried about J. D., who reports his interest in the gang’s activities to Sky Pop and leads Dare to his death. On the positive side, the information Dare gathers about the arrival of drugs enables the police to arrest the drug dealers and Marti finds a small hope that “someone could still reach” J. D. in the fact that he “did cry when she asked about Dare” (253). This suggests that while J. D. has already been touched by evil ten years old he may still be forgivable reasons atsalvageable.

Other characters in the book have less for not seeing evil and much less hope for recovery due to their continuing unwillingness or inability to see. Very little is stated directly in this novel about Marti’s African American background, though it matters a lot in Done Wrong and Tell No Tales. As a quotation on the book jacket of See No Evil taken from the Washington Post Book World rightly observes about an earlier novel (and, by implication, the entire series), “ Marti’s blackness is both underscored and ignored with a cunning that shows Bland’s complete ease inside her character.” Here the primary way Marti’s blackness is underscored is through the surprised observation of a black character who had hitherto only talked to Marti on the phone, “Why, I had no idea you were one of us” (221). Nevertheless, the reader knows throughout that Marti, like most of the other characters in the book, is black, and the complex, multifaceted portrayal of Marti powerfully points up the complex, multifaceted humanity of the group to which she belongs. Where Bland deals directly with the issue of prejudice is through the characters of two black homeless men, Dare and Isaac, whom Marti seeks to help. Both of these men, who were first introduced in Bland’s second novel, Slow Burn, are viewed by most of the people who encounter them as smelly, worthless, drunken bums. However, little by little we are led to see that they are much more than that. Both men have been Vietnam veterans and receive monthly checks that they use to take care of themselves. Dare even works occasionally as a garbage man to help supplement their income in time of need. Neither of the two men likes to beg or get into debt, though they do accept food and winter coats freely given by the church and run up a bar bill that can be fully paid off by the next check.

Isaac is also portrayed sympathetically. Previously, in Slow Burn, Marti’s partner Vic “thought she was crazy because she wanted to have some respect for informants” like Isaac (105), and in See No Evil too Vic starts out by regarding Isaac as a drag on society. However, he gradually develops a respect and even concern for Isaac. Marti who has always had some liking for him also comes to appreciate him more as she and Vic try to save him from the danger that threatens him. What impresses both of them is Isaac’s resourcefulness in evading the gang members who are trying to kill him. They are also aware of his strong attachment to Dare. His fate is important to them because they have come to see him as an individual worthy of attention and even some affection rather than just another homeless man. The incident that most effectively puts Isaac in a sympathetic light and makes the reader see his full humanity is the one from his childhood that accounts for his drinking and for his desire not to see evil. From the moment it happened, he has known that he bore a large responsibility for the deaths of his two younger brothers and baby sister since he told them to catch some fish in the water that took them away and he was too frightened to help them. Nevertheless, he has tried in vain to deny this responsibility both to his parents by telling them that he “don’t see nothing” and to himself by drinking to keep away the dreams in which he sees their deaths over and over again. Of course, his desire not to see never wholly keeps him from seeing and his only hope of lessening his suffering and possibly gaining salvation is to stop averting his eyes and look fully and unflinchingly at what happened. After he is able—at last—to tell Father Corrigan, a highly empathic priest who 21

has frequently helped him, about what he sees in his dreams, he finds the strength to sign himself “into an alcohol-rehab program” (261). In Tell No Tales, the next novel in the series, Marti meets Isaac and again and reflects that even though “she knew better than to expect miracles, …Isaac had already stayed sober a lot longer than she’d expected him to” (144). This definitely shows that Isaac can be saved and implies that Bland is ultimately more concerned with the soul than with criminal conduct. As Isaac’s situation demonstrates, trying not to see—and confront— evil either in oneself or others is a serious error with often devastating consequences. Even though what Isaac did wrong was a youthful error and unintentional, his failure to face it has haunted him most of his life. Other characters in the book have less forgivable reasons for not seeing evil and much less hope for recovery due to their continuing unwillingness or inability to see. For example, a fisherman tells several lies to Marti and Vic about what he witnessed the night of Ladiya’s murder before admitting that he saw Knox’s car in the area because he “didn’t want to get involved” (238). This is the lame and unacceptable excuse given by far too many witnesses to terrible deeds. Another instance of failure to see evil is Sharon’s inability to follow through on her feelings that there is something seriously wrong with Phillip. She errs in this not only because he seems to have all the graces she seeks in a Mr. Wonderful— a handsome appearance, plenty of money,

It isn’t enough, though, just to perceive evil and avoid it or even to confront it. It is also necessary to have a positive view of good and Bland’s novel does abound in examples of goodness.

a willingness to express love for her, and a high level of performance in bed—but also, more significantly, because she is so insecure about herself. Even at the end, she finds it hard to acknowledge her responsibility in bringing him to the house where he learned about and planned to kill everyone there and thinks of him as a “tragic figure” because “After all he’s been through, I guess when I turned down his proposal, it was just one rejection too many” (273). This is a flattering view that bolsters her low opinion of herself, but it is false. His main target was Marti’s daughter and his feelings of rage, desire, and the longing for a godlike control over others have little to do with Sharon. In addition, what Sharon tells Marti about Phillip’s past strongly suggests to her that Phillip had previously killed both of his parents and other women in his life. Sharon’s inability to see the extent of his evil may well leave her vulnerable to other evil in the future. Bland’s skillful manipulation of her puzzle implicates her readers as well in the problem of not seeing evil. We have not only been shown most of what Sharon has seen in Phillip but have also been taken into the mind of the homicidal intruder many times without being told that he is Phillip. If we are prevented from identifying Phillip as the intruder because we share some of Sharon’s assumptions, namely that a handsome, wealthy man who is successful with women and good in bed can’t be a potential rapist and murderer, then we too lack insight into evil and must question our blindness. In this way, Bland is trying to free us from some of the widespread faulty assumptions about rape and to educate us concerning its true nature. As Marti reflects on exhibitionism, which many people (including vice detectives) view more as a joke than a crime, “There was something about this kind of human depravity that bothered her in a way that nothing else did. She thought of rape, indecent exposure, molestation, stalking, and similar crimes as acts of terrorism, committed most frequently against woman and children—acts that the perpetrator enjoyed” (207). We are lacking in conscience and sensitivity if we fail to condemn the lesser act as well as the greater one. The other puzzle, the one involving the murder of Ladiya Norris, also implicates us if we, like Marti, fail to see the possibility that Azalea Knox rather than her husband Bernard is the killer. Marti understands that a woman (or man) may accept a batterer as a spouse or a lover out of low self esteem and may cling to that person even against her or his own best interests, but it’s hard for her—and us—to see that this same low self esteem may lead that person to remove a rival for the batterer’s affection and supposed protection. It isn’t enough, though, just to perceive evil and avoid it or even to confront it. It is also necessary to have a positive view of good and Bland’s novel does abound in examples of goodness. Obviously, Marti McAlister is the primary agent of good in the novel and we have already noted her many acts of conscience, compassion and commitment. Her partner Vic has shared many of her concerns and acts of

service to others. Dare has been another exemplar of the good in his desire to help other people and his efforts to eliminate an evil from the neighborhood. Isaac too has been good in his attempt, following the deaths of his siblings and his return from Vietnam, to live without harming others and in his ultimate choice of the path to redemption. As a further example, Father Corrigan has humbly and selflessly served people like Isaac who needs help freely offered without sermons or judgments. He tells Isaac how he had taken to drink out of a sense of being unworthy, but that he had stopped “longing for perfection, just accepting the reality that he would never attain it” (241). Eleanor Taylor Bland’s See No Evil serves not only as a cautionary tale about the perils of not seeing and confronting evil but even more importantly as a positive inducement to see good (both in the colloquial sense of becoming more aware of our world and ourselves and in the more obvious sense of observing—and hopefully emulating—goodness). Clearly, Bland is a detective novelist with a vision which not only encompasses the evil of racism but also many other evils, including, among others, the evils of sexism, child abuse, individual malice, greed and poverty, intolerance toward others in any form, and extreme selfishness. For both her understanding of evil and her active approach to goodness, she deserves to be seen, along with Walter Mosley, Barbara Neely and others, as one of the modern African American masters of mystery. Works Cited Ashley, Mike, compiler. The Mammoth Encyclopedia of Modern Crime Fiction. New York: Carroll and Graf, 2002. Auden, W. H. “September 1, 1939.” http://www.poemdujour.com/ Sept1.1939.html. Bland, Eleanor Taylor. Dead Time. New York: Signet, 1993. -----. Done Wrong. New York: St. Martin’s Paperbacks, 1995. -----. Keep Still. New York: St. Martin’s Paperbacks, 1996. -----. Gone Quiet. New York: Signet, 1995. -----. Scream in Silence. New York: St. Martin’s Paperbacks, 2001. -----. See No Evil. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1998. -----. Slow Burn. New York: Signet, 1994. -----. Tell No Tales. New York: St. Martin’s Paperbacks, 2000. -----. Whispers in the Dark. New York: St. Martin’s Minotaur, 2001. Jordan, June. Civil Wars. Boston, Beacon Press, 1981. Paretsky, Sara, editor. Women on the Case. New York, Dell, 1996. Woods, Paula L., editor. Spooks, Spies, and Private Eyes. New York: Doubleday, 1995.

Race, Class and Classic Detective Fiction From the outset, classic detective fiction required that any reading taking its puzzle element seriously had to attempt to see behind the masks people put on in society and set aside a lot of social assumptions. Even the cliché that was often used to make fun of detective fiction, “the butler did it,” pointed to the need to recognize that a butler was more than just a social function; he was a human being who might have strong enough emotions and motives to impel him to murder someone. Failure to see this could easily lead to failure to solve a puzzle. If only to play the game well, the reader had, however fleetingly and inadequately, to acknowledge the humanity and vulnerability of all the characters in the story, no matter how woodenly and one-dimensionally they might be drawn. Pauline Hopkins in several mystery works in the early 1900s and Rudolph Fisher in The Conjure Man Dies in 1932 were the first African Americans to demonstrate that this truth applies to African Americans as well.

Stephen R. Carter is

Kim Mimnaugh

P O R T F O L I O

Macro or Micro? Paul Kelly and Stephen Young

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Is it Macro or Micro?

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Macro or Micro? Paul Kelly and Stephen Young

Sextant’s Graduate Assistant, Beth Melillo met with Paul Kelly and Stephen Young and asked them questions about how their science is also art: Beth: What brought you to Salem State? Paul Kelly: I started working at Salem State in 1998. I had been working in New York, but had relatives in Beverly, so I was familiar with the area. A colleague at Salem State suggested that it would be a good fit for me. I was attracted to Salem State as a university where I could balance teaching with research instead of succumbing to the pressures of research and funding. Stephen Young: I was also attracted to Salem State as a teaching institute. I grew up in upstate New York, but my wife was working at the time in Boston. I knew I wanted to stay in the general area. I remember driving to a wedding in Marblehead and passing Salem State and thinking… “Hmm? Wouldn’t it be great to work there…?” Beth: How did you two meet? SY: It started because I had been displaying satellite images on the walls near my office and asking students to guess where in the world they were from. Usually the student’s guesses were completely wrong. I also remembered that Paul had pictures up around his office. As a joke, I took one of my images and put it on his office door, to see if he could guess what it was. PK: I was fooled. I thought another Biology professor had put the image up, that perhaps it was a virus. But it wasn’t. This got us talking and thinking about the idea of scale and perception, and the intersection between our two fields. 34

Beth: What got you interested in this work— how did you begin? PK: In the late 90’s I was working with my research partners in New York identifying microscopic patterns on the skin of snakes that were related to one other. We were use the Scanning Electron Microscope to do this work and finding out that our hypothesis was correct— snakes that are related to one other, also have similar visually repetitive patterns. SY: I got my doctorate studying environmental change and deforestation in China. At the time I got interested in the visual and artistic elements of the images. These images were part of my academic research, but also very whimsical. Beth: Can you explain in a little more detail of the technologies you use and the process of making these images? PK: I use the Scanning Electron Microscope (SEM) to look at objects such as skin, teeth, wings. A normal telescope uses light waves in order to sense and capture images, but an electron microscope uses electrons. Theoretically, an electron microscope can help visualize any subjects which are larger than the size of an electron— the SEM magnifies images from as little as 5x their size, to millions of times their actual size. There is no color in the images that the SEM produces, so all color in the images here, I add during the processing.

SY: Remote sensing of the Earth is the art and science of obtaining information about the Earth’s surface from sensors or cameras aboard airplanes and satellites. The sensors capture sunlight reflecting off the surface of the Earth, or energy radiating from the Earth. Visible light, which humans can see, is only a small portion of the kinds of energy that the sun radiates to Earth. One of the great powers of remote sensing is the ability to capture these different forms of energy, such as infrared and microwaves. Beth: How do you process the raw data to produce what we see in your exhibit? PK: In my case I add color to some of the images. Of course I never manipulate the data. An example of that would be sharpening the image. SY: For some images I work with the raw downloaded data and combine different wavelengths of energy as I do for my research creating interesting but scientifically valid images. For others I search data sites such as the International Space Station or the European Space Agency and I download interesting images of the Earth and then processes them further, perhaps cropping the images down to size, or adding color to indicate temperature or depth or other surface differences in the landscapes. Like Paul, I don’t manipulate data to fool the viewer. Beth: How do you pick the best images you’ll use? SY: I have looked at tens of thousands of images over my career—there are topics I know that are very visually pleasing—for example, Cape Cod, and certainly Deserts.

PK: The scale of different objects is something very striking we hope they notice, especially when they are being compared. The brain is always trying to identify patterns, and sees different proportions as pleasing – People see scale models or micro images with their many details and they perceive them as items that could be much larger. In a way they are fooled into thinking these are completely different things. Paul Kelly has been a Professor of Biology at Salem State University since 1997. He is a herpetologist who specializes in the study of snakes. He received his BA from Rutgers University and his PhD from New York University.

Stephen Young is a Professor in the Geography Department where he teaches remote sensing and environmental sustainability. He received a BA from the University of Vermont, a Masters of Environmental Science from Yale University and a PhD in geography from Clark University. Professor Young has had over a dozen Art and Science gallery exhibitions utilizing satellite imagery.

PK: As Steve said, one gains experience. In biology you learn about form and function, you see how creatures, and parts of creatures, are shaped optimally. Pollen grains designed to float in the wind, are shaped like miniature golf balls. Microscopic tissues are given strength by having “dovetailed” connections between the cells. Feathers have velcro-like connectors between the proteins to latch together and hold air. Over time, you get a feel for the designs shaped by natural selection at both the macro and micro level. Beth: What is the most common reaction, or what do you hope people say about the images? SY: Well, what was your reaction? Beth: Surprise—I couldn’t believe I misidentified so many of them. SY: I think we hope for that, Surprise. Certainly that people will see the beauty in the images, they really are very beautiful. Also we hope that they recognize that these images are both art and science. I think I’m always surprised, because we both look at the images so much, that its not immediately obvious to people which images are macro, and which are micro.

Is it Macro or Micro? For the answers see back inside cover. 35

E S S A Y

The Theater of Power at Salem State University ∏ A Case History with Interpretation

Geertje Wiersma PROLOGUE ALEM State University, until recently a college, is a microcosm of human relations and power-plays on a minor stage. As a sociologist and senior member of the faculty in my thirty-eighth academic year, I have witnessed some dramatic shifts in the balance of power. Tracking nearly four decades of organizational authorities on campus provided me with a tale wherein I can comment on exercise of authority and influence. However, in this article, I will focus on a key force that set the marker for my narrative line: faculty unionization.

When I arrived in September, 1974, the college felt like a mini-planet. My first exposure to faculty playing their roles came when attending a Faculty Senate meeting in the amphitheater shaped lecture hall on the fourth floor of Meier Hall. It reminded me of Shakespeare’s As You Like It: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.” Not that the Faculty Senate had a decisive role in administrative decision; it functioned more as a public forum where faculty profiled themselves in dramaturgical fashion; their contributions to institutional decision making were limited and relegated mainly to recommendations, reviews, and advice.

In the late 1970s, the time was ripe for faculty/librarian unionization along with collective bargaining. Economic retrenchment and its effect on salaries and working conditions made this move an attractive option. Union advocates argued for fairer salaries and protection from unchecked administrative authority, while union skeptics worried about a more adversarial relationship between faculty and administration. Hence, not all were in support but Salem State College was following a national trend toward unionization in public higher education. Salem State faculty provided significant leadership in the fledgling union enterprise and has continued to do so to this day.

Not very long after returning from Wageningen University in the Netherlands, where I had spent the better part of a sabbatical leave, the Vice-President of Academic Affairs approached me in the spring of 1998 about a most uncommon assignment. It involved a department that “had come to its knees after a decade long period of internal squabbling and inability to resolve disputes.” College administration had tried, repeatedly, to remedy this situation, but to no avail. Subsequently, they sought advice off campus by consulting Harvard Law School Linked Conflict Solutions Program. This resulted in a written “Agreement” among department faculty to submit disputes to a “Neutral” who, in turn, was given sole discretion to impose certain resolutions and, when granted special necessary, penalties.

Not only for faculty but also for administrators, winds of . . . the Neutral was change were in the air toward the end of the 1970s. First, powers, unheard of in the history of rapid turnovers of the top The duties and Salem State College and in a twenty- responsibilities of the five administrators. During my first five years there had Neutral, as spelled out in The been three presidents and four year history of union contractual Agreement were traditionally academic deans, ending with involvement in faculty grievances— those of an arbitrator and the appointment of a president enforceable under the in 1979 which began an almost unlikely to occur again. Massachusetts Arbitration decade long era of stability until Act. The department in 1988. Toward the end of the question proposed me as 1980s, the union was becoming a major force on campus. their Neutral and subsequently I was asked by the ViceAt the same time, college administration faced a severe President to accept this role. As every party familiar conflagration at the top: a new president, appointed one with The Agreement observed, the Neutral was granted year before, resigned under publicly discussed scandalous special powers, unheard of in the history of Salem State circumstances; an academic vice-president, who had served College and in a twenty-year history of union contractual for a decade, resigned and filed a salary grievance when involvement in faculty grievances—unlikely to occur returning to a faculty position; three acting vice-presidents again. Neither administration nor union would have roles followed in that position in the span of three years; and, a in resolving disputes, except in disputes relating to the long serving Vice-President/Dean of Administration and promotion process covered by the MTA contract. In other Finance retired. Continuity returned in 1990 when a new words, the department agreed to use the process as spelled president was named along with appointments in other key out by The Agreement exclusively and to waive their rights positions that turned out to be of lasting nature. to submit disputes or differences to the MTA grievance process. Department members signed off voluntarily and, although administration and union were not signatories on The Agreement, they were fully informed consenting participants in the process that led up to this unusual CASE HISTORY dispute resolution narrative. Also, the participants “cloaked” the Neutral with immunity from any claims, grievances or liability arising from conduct in that role. y the end of the 1990s with a seasoned I began my role as Neutral in June 1998, and by the administration firmly in place, along with end of the year I had gained quite a bit of insight into an assertive faculty union, the stage was set departmental affairs and the extent to which suspicions and for a remarkable showdown between the bad feelings generated tensions nearly ending any hope for Administration and Union. It would possess departmental functionality and colleagueship. The number all the component parts of life as theater of disputes and complaints brought to my attention that with actors putting on a symbolic power first half year would choke the best of departments. Too, performance before a campus audience. I was it was clear that internal quarreling centered more than given a role to play in this drama which provided me with not around one faculty member. My role as an arbitrator/ a close-up view of emotions and weaknesses and reflected mediator, novel as it was, was successful in so far that it dilemmas and intricacies in the state of affairs at the contributed to the department’s completion of long delayed college. tasks: curriculum review and filling of a tenure-track

“The Agreement” and “The Neutral”

position. However, I had little success in improving relations with the perceived “culprit.” My assessment based on firsthand observations and many conversations and hearings was that the faculty member in question, when disagreed with or opposed, often perceived this as conspiratorial treatment and discrimination.

From Bad toWorse y attempts in conversation and in writing to ameliorate witnessed volatility were ineffectual. The following spring matters turned from bad to worse in that several students brought forth complaints against the same faculty member alleging discrimination, intimidation, and sexual harassment. Three students filed officially written complaints with the College’s Office of Equal Opportunity and Human Rights. From then on the stage was set for an extended struggle that involved the following parties: the accused faculty member, department faculty, the Neutral, College Administration, Massachusetts State College Association (MSCA), Massachusetts Teacher Association (MTA), Salem State College Board of Trustees, Massachusetts Board of Higher Education, The Commonwealth of Massachusetts Commission Against Discrimination (MCAD), The Commonwealth’s Office of the Attorney General, and various courts: United States District Court for the District of Massachusetts, Essex Superior Court Department, and U.S. Court of Appeals. All of this led to a protracted adjudication process, costly financially and in time. It started in earnest in the Spring of 1999 and was not brought to closure until the Spring of 2004. It became apparent by February 1999, that the proper roles of the MSCA/MTA and college administration were in a quandary. To have departmental disputes and consequences thereof resolved outside the province of these two dominant forces on campus had an inbuilt implosiveness. The MSCA and administration were not signatories but yet were consenters to The Agreement. Both parties were reluctant to let go of traditional control in the context of an unparalleled conflict solution agreement. At the onset, the administration had chosen this formula as a last-ditch attempt to keep the department alive, while the union, choked with a plethora of department grievances, was, I speculated, relieved to have all grievances dropped. When I accepted the position of Neutral I made clear that I did not want to function in a vacuum and proposed that as an employee of the college I would forward copies of my memoranda to the VicePresident of Academic Affairs—not for approval but for reporting purposes only. This was found acceptable by all involved at the initiation of The Agreement. I soon became aware that certain union officers and administrators over time became ill at ease with previously

agreed upon stipulated conditions and were willing to respond to faculty directly regarding departmental disputes, thereby compromising the spirit of The Agreement. When confronted with this I asked for the enforcement of The Agreement—that is, all disputes reaching administration or union offices should be directed to the Neutral. It appeared that playing authorities against each other was a modus operandi players in this ongoing drama used as a means to embolden variant roles and positions. It was the beginning of a long process in which administration and union became entangled in a drawn out turf-war. A first occurrence that brought into the open an undercurrent of adversarial interests was the unannounced presence of a representative of MTA headquarters, in an observer role, at a meeting scheduled between department chair, department members, and the Neutral. I found this most problematic, since interpretation of The Agreement made union involvement extremely questionable or, more likely, in violation of the legal arrangement. It raised again the general question of the union’s role in the mediated Agreement that by then had existed for about eight months. I cancelled the meeting.

. . . playing authorities against each other was a modus operandi players in this ongoing drama used . . . As an aside, the Salem College chapter of the MSCA remained silent on this matter and did not “openly” participate during visits from the MTA on campus. It appeared, in union circles, there was curiosity and alarm about what was “going on” at Salem State. Besides, the union questioned the role of the administration in enforcing The Agreement and my cc’ing the Vice-President of Academic Affairs of memoranda sent. Some of this came to a head when the administration, at my request, was instrumental in withholding monies from teaching in the Division of Continuing Education, as a means to collect imposed fines. It was up to the sole discretion of the Neutral to decide whether any participant violated The Agreement. When warnings were insufficient, a financial penalty could be imposed, or any other action deemed appropriate by the Neutral. I saw financial penalties as a last resort. But, nonenforcement would render The Agreement forceless. By spring, my observation, in the preceding fall, that professional misconduct in the department was not evenly spread throughout the faculty but more than not reflected the behavior of one member was irrefutable. The faculty member in question was a person who either caused or exacerbated most of the situations. Yet, all bore some share of responsibility. I found it hard to believe that the state of turmoil, beginning and worsening long before I came on the scene as Neutral, could be blamed solely on the incendiary behavior of one. Still, when I came aboard as Neutral,

everyone with the exception of one, desired to make things better. That fact alone credited the department’s resolve to better itself and explained also why warnings and penalties, far more than not, were limited to one.

Divide and Conquer t had been my hope that the unusual arrangement to help settle intra-departmental problems would prove an effective strategy when traditional methods had failed. In fact, that very goal was the thought persuading my taking on the responsibility in the first place. Faced with the circumstance of one truly fractious personality and the ambiguous support of administration and union raised the question whether the idea of the Neutral might not have been a good one after all. As I saw it, the problem was not so much the “idea” itself rather in a lack of general agreement among the parties involved, especially when tough calls had to be made. Certainly the MTA had second thoughts and was searching tactically for ways to insinuate itself into the proceedings. I wondered whether the MTA had silently abrogated its support for The Agreement. Such a divide and conquer mentality might have satisfied union strategies but were hardly conducive to the goals of higher education where unity, common cause, and a concerted effort to correct abuse and to grow institutionally ought to be paramount.

. . . the goals of higher education where unity, common cause, and a concerted effort to correct abuse and to grow institutionally ought to be paramount. The Administration continued to demonstrate uncertainty in its course of action: on the one hand stating support for and enforcing The Agreement, while at the same time violating it by arranging meetings about intradepartmental grievances. These meetings were kept from the Neutral. Administrators were also besieged by forces threatening libel, racial discrimination, and sexual harassment. I deplored duplicity, both by union and administration, and found myself, to say the least, not at all at peace with behind-my-back shenanigans. I expressed my discontent to both union and administration and seriously considered resigning my position. When spring became summer these contentious matters took on less urgency and resolutions were held at bay. I had some hope that after a time of reflection instead of

action, matters might change for the better entering the fall semester. Although, in the summer doldrums of late August, I was informed that one of the three women students who had filed complaints obtained legal counsel and that the college was being named in the suit. Court documents show that plaintiff sought redress under Title IX of The Education Amendments of 1972 and 1983: “the right to equality of education free from an intimidating, hostile and threatening environment and freedom from gender discrimination and sexual harassment.” The defendants listed were: Board of Trustees of Salem State College, the President, and the alleged perpetrator. It also stated that the plaintiff resorted to this legal action since the College’s Office of Equal Opportunity and Human Rights had failed to provide “adequate support, protection and redress.” She alleged the College allowed the defendant to continue instructing classes “with the knowledge that this defendant exhibited sexually harassing, intimidating and threatening behavior against the plaintiff and against many other students over a long period of time while a Professor at Salem State College.” Later in the semester the defendant said he would be unwilling to meet any longer either with the Department Chair or with the Neutral. And he refused to attend any department meetings —basically saying that little of a punitive nature can be done against tenured faculty. The department chair’s warning, six month earlier, that the college risked significant civil suit, unfortunately, proved prophetically correct. It was now likely that all actions and decisions would be scrutinized quite possibly in a court of law. The College’s main defense in response to the law-suit, prepared by the Commonwealth Office of the Attorney General, stated that all allegations brought forward were “allegations of law and not fact.” In a cross claim against the defendant, it was made clear that they would not come to the defense of the defendant, and that “if these allegations are proven, then any resulting injury or damage is the direct and proximate result of the conduct of defendant and not the result of the conduct of the College . . . if the College and/or its President are found liable for the acts, omissions and misconduct of the defendant, then the College and the President shall seek contribution from the defendant.”—that is, they held the defendant liable not the College, because the defendant was acting outside the scope of employment policy.

Detenured he College became more concerned about the extent of alleged un-professional behavior. The Agreement had not brought to a halt a succession of complaints. Subsequently, the administration brought a confidential team of investigators on campus to gather all documented complaints and to conduct a series of related interviews

in order to lay the groundwork for a difficult and lengthy daily diary with private musings and observations about my detenuring process—a most serious undertaking on any role, the tone of our conversation changed. I was reluctant college/university campus. There dawned an apparent zeal to hand over my diary not written for others to peruse. I to protect the interests of the institution, but also a practical considered its contents personal property, not written to dilemma of admitting that the defendant had a history serve as testimony in a court of law. In a subsequent letter of documented student complaints which, although they she informed me that “in consultation with counsel . . . you might strengthen their arguments for termination, would are obligated to produce those portions of the diary that compromise, simultaneously the College’s defense against concern, relate to, mention or discuss allegations of sexual the law suit brought by one of assault or sexual harassment.” the students. Not long after a She also advised me to find second female student joined my own private counsel and in I was reluctant to hand over my in the suit against the college, consideration of my service as a rendering more complicated the diary not written for others to Neutral, the College agreed to case the College defense was pay not more than $2,500.00 peruse. I considered its contents trying to build. for legal fees. She further reiterated the College’s position personal property, not written to The discovery process that as an employee and agent underway in the final months serve as testimony in a court of law. of the College and therefore of 1999 led to the decision to obligated to cooperate with inform the defendant in midthe College throughout the January, just before the start of course of lawsuits brought by the two women students. Any the spring semester of 2000, not to return to campus and notes or documents I created in my role as Neutral belonged of being placed on an indefinite leave of absence with pay. to the College, my employer. I handed over the Neutral’s This would provide time to deal with a protracted period of files and sections of my diary. Also, I decided I did not litigation, time to lay the groundwork for detenuring, and require legal assistance because I held the College legally much needed time to defuse a campus-wide distressing lack accountable to stand by the immunity it contractually of civility, hurtful comments and backbites swirling around (Agreement) committed to me. Obviously it became the accused. Students complained that they were solicited to abundantly clear that their existed a conflict of interest give affidavits on behalf or against the defendant and found between the College and myself. all of it rather confusing; some felt it pitted students against one another. Others expressed fear. In the meantime, an additional suit against the College was filed by the second woman student—not against the faculty defendant but against the College, alleging the College “to have known about numerous other complaints of sexual harassment against _______________ and ___________ did nothing to deter the known and immanent threat of their employee against students.” The faculty defendant’s lawyers filed a motion to dismiss, since no charges were brought against their client. The court ruled that dismissal would be premature prior to “benefit of discovery.” The College agreed. This reflected a careful legal balancing act between defending the College and, at the same time, holding the faculty member responsible for dismissible individual actions. Quite a bit of legal wrangling ensued about the “scope of discovery.” The College requested the dismissal of claims against itself but opposed the dismissal of claims against the accused faculty member. Depositions by the President, the defendant, and myself were scheduled. In preparation, I met with an Assistant Attorney General assigned to the case. A most enlightening dialogue ensued about the predicament the College found itself in. When I informed the Assistant Attorney General that I had gathered a considerable file containing all documented actions on my part as Neutral, such as e-mails exchanged with department members, college administrators, plus personal notes in the form of a 40

Taking a Stand needed a place to take my stand in the midst of these intra-college battles which, in my opinion threatened a proper learning environment for students. I was not the only one who felt conflicted. Some members of the defendant’s department feared retaliation by the College if they responded to questions asked by the plaintiffs’ counsel. To seek guidance from the Union/MTA, seemed unwise since they were bound to defend their accused colleague. Should we stifle information that might prove harmful to the College, or be seen as whistle-blowers, or adhere to a code of silence? College counsel made it clear that they did not want anyone to respond, except when deposed by the court, to inquiries by the plaintiffs’ attorneys. Under the rule of attorney client privilege, counsel for the College asked the court not to include my diary as “discoverable material.” Also, depositions were postponed. Mine did not occur until July, and that ended my involvement with the lawsuits brought against the College. Toward the end of the year in October, the U.S. District Court Judge refused to throw out the case brought by the two women and ordered it to trial in December. At various times the court procedures were reported in the press, including the Salem State College Log.

Along with participating in the adjudication of these lawsuits in various courts, the College proceeded with the detenuring process—a process handled internally in accordance with provisions stipulated in the MSCA Collective Bargaining Agreement. Termination of faculty solely lies in the authority of the College president who gives written notice of the grounds for removal. Reasons were presented at a hearing composed of five tenured faculty members selected by lot. The committee hearings were closed to the public but the faculty member under consideration had the right to invite others as non-participating observers. After weeks of testimony and the committee’s unanimous finding against detenuring, the president decided to recommend removal to the College Board of Trustees. The Board’s Tenure Removal Hearing was scheduled almost one year later in April, 2001, but was cancelled at the request of the faculty member threatened with termination after deliberations with MTA counsel. The Salem Chapter MSCA Newsletter of April 2nd reported this and added: “The Board, therefore, may take whatever action it wishes on the President’s recommendation to terminate. Please note, however, that all grievances related to the case will go forward to be heard by a neutral arbitrator. You will be kept informed.” Later that year, in the November Salem MSCA Newsletter, the grievance officer wrote that Trustees voted, unanimously for removal of tenure. “The case, however, is far from over . . . You will be kept informed of developments.” With the help of MTA, grievances were prepared to go to arbitration. Results of arbitration I have not found in writing, but the faculty member did not return to the faculty. Simultaneously, with this protracted detenuring process, a plethora of additional legal entanglements ensued: complaints of discrimination were filed by the defendant with the College’s Office of Equal Opportunity and Human Rights and the Massachusetts Commission Against Discrimination (MCAD), plus libel suits against Salem State College, the editor of the Log, and the faculty advisor of the Log. All cases were dismissed and judgments were affirmed in various Appellate courts. In addition, in January 2001, while awaiting the Board of Trustees detenuring removal hearing, a claim of racial and national origin discrimination was filed in the U.S. District Court under Title VII, against the Board of Trustees, the President, two faculty members, and myself. This filing was done upon the advice of the faculty member’s personal legal counsel and union counsel. The Attorney General’s Office provided, again, the defense and filed motions to dismiss; the judge ruled favorably for the College and the other defendants. It was

a first successful round but contested, as was expected, in U.S. Court of Appeals. In April, 2002, initial lower court judgments were upheld, but the lawsuit filed against the College was permitted to proceed. In fact, the case was “far from over.” The following January 2003, in Salem Superior Court, a $5 million discrimination lawsuit against the school was filed because of racial and national origin discrimination. This case was settled a year and a half later in June 2004, with both sides agreeing to have the case dismissed “with prejudice, and with each party bearing its own costs and fees.” I was notified that the court affirmed The Agreement which began this extended process was a “binding arbitration agreement” and denied that I “exceeded the scope of her authority under the agreement.” A reassuring finding.

INTERPRETATION

What is Truth? y writing about these events reflects more than archival fact; it attempts, after close examination, an interpretation in the interest of truth. Truth is immeasurably deep. My recollections, autobiographical as they are, challenge that age old question: “What is truth?” What to include and what to omit is an interesting challenge. If relevant events are left out or, more likely, my memory reconstructs rather than reproduces: truth displays a faint glow. Memory is like a diary and yet might make us fall unawares into error—one is not fully in control. Despite these pitfalls, my task is to interpret—as it were, an examination of truth as nourishment for reflection.

Memory is like a diary and yet might make us fall unawares into error . . . As a public institution of higher learning one deals with various constituencies: students, faculty, administrators, Board of Trustees, taxpayers, the community, and in general the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. We carry out numerous tasks and in doing so it is of no surprise that the interests of the various stakeholders at times might conflict. Historically I have seen, besides collaboration, an interesting struggle for power among these various groups, but most notably between the administration and faculty union. And, using Max Weber’s seminal terminology: force, authority, and influence, these three intertwined manifestations of power might serve as an analytical frame of reference to interpret the changing power dynamics.

In the 1970s the Faculty Senate was a deliberative body, but limited in its ability to decisively impact the authority of top administrators. In the 1980s, through faculty unionization collective bargaining, faculty influence increased. The tension of dispute between administration and union led to some creative solutions, notably more fairness in salary and crisp contractual language spelling out working conditions and criteria for promotion and tenure. In short, the faculty and administration played from the same score. The climate of accommodation changed in the decade of the 1990s; relations became more adversarial.

. . . a theater of the absurd, wherein individual ego’s played mischievous imbroglios in the battleground arena of conflicting institutional interests. The academic tenure system was a major employment benefit in that it protected academic freedom and guaranteed lifetime employment. Removal of faculty, tenured or not, evolved into a lengthy and costly process requiring just cause. It is a course of action fraught with intense conflict and frequently defined in terms of winners and losers. Each side comes from a different vantage-point with the stage set for their respective power-plays. Such was the case at Salem State College during my time as Neutral. Toward the end of the 1990s, the union had gained substantial influence, especially due to a relatively small cadre of union activists who dominated the decisionmaking processes. Some had channeled their energies by serving on multiple committees and in various functions since the early days of unionization. The trust placed in key union officers legitimated their authority, enhanced their status, and emboldened an aggressive union stance when issues as salient as the removal of tenure tested their mettle. Union leadership style was intrinsically combative when their interests were considered threatened. In contrast, an example of conflict aversion was the unusual “Agreement” solution initiated by Administration for a department’s decade long internal wrangling and subsequent deterioration. Earlier and decisive administrative intervention might have avoided such decline and prevented the fallout. Further, interests and leadership styles between administration and union differed and peaked in a vigorous disagreement over grounds for tenure removal —a conflict between power and influence. Separate interests made reciprocity between opposing sides difficult and contributed to the long-lasting stalemate. My best illustration of various styles of power was demonstrated during the faculty hearing to establish “just cause” for tenure removal. When I was asked to testify, I 42

accepted with some disinclination. In retrospect, I ought to have examined more deeply my role as Neutral and refused to attend. In any event, I testified and found the proceedings rather disconcerting with no established rules as one might find in a court of law. The Union Contract did not delineate procedures and rules of conduct for these hearings. I was ill-prepared for ad hominem and crass personal attacks. The entire proceeding lacked rules for cross-examining, recesses, and protocol. Why?—because the role of a judge (or arbitrator) was non-existent. Spokespersons of the union and administration did not have legal backgrounds, which in a way reduced the hearing to a theater of the absurd, wherein individual ego’s played mischievous imbroglios in the battleground arena of conflicting institutional interests. Based on my own experience in giving testimony, the Union’s Grievance Officer dominated the hearing but did so without having real power to rule on detenuring. The administration, less forceful, nevertheless seemed, like the Union, less interested in fact-finding that in winning and saving face. EPILOGUE

excellence.”

ne can only wonder how such an illstructured and self-serving dispute could ever actually promote legitimate student/ faculty interests. In the end, this extended conflict failed to solve a substantive institutional matter. As an institution of higher learning, we all share the ongoing and common goal rightfully called a “tradition of

G. Else Wiersma is Professor of Sociology at Salem State University. After almost four decades of teaching full-time, she retired in September and continues to teach parttime in the sociology department. Born and educated in the Netherlands, she received her PhD from Wageningen University. Dr. Wiersma is published in the field of family sociology and is writing memoirs of her professional experiences at our University. Her book will interweave interpretive narrative and factual analysis. One of her previous Sextant articles reflects Dr. Wiersma’s early years at the university, written in the context of the nation’s burgeoning social/political movements of the 1970’s.

F R O M T H E A R C H I V E S

The Military Prison at Fort Warren Minor H. McLain An excerpt from Minor H. McLain, “The Military Prison at Fort Warren,” Civil War History 8, no. 2 (June 1962): 136-151.

prisoner-of-war station is unique in that within its confines soldiers of belligerent armies must live together as noncombatants while subject to constant and sometimes potentially explosive tensions. Under such circumstances a prisoner may come to hate his enemy with a fervor seldom equaled by soldiers on the battlefield. On the other hand, relations between guard and captive may attain a level of mutual respect that makes it possible for each to appreciate the other as a human being in spite of an irreconcilable division of loyalties. This seems to have been the prevailing pattern at Fort Warren, on George’s Island in Boston Harbor during the Civil War.… In appraising any military prison, it is proper to compare the living conditions of the soldiers garrisoned there with those of the prisoners. A noticeable difference or similarity between the two may be an indication of the character of the detaining power or the commanding officer of the post. At the beginning of the Civil War, before its designation as a

prison, Fort Warren was a training base for a number of Massachusetts regiments. Inadequate housing and food for large groups of incoming men often resulted in complaints that were later echoed by newly arrived prisoners. A soldier of the 14th Massachusetts Infantry (which later became the 1st Massachusetts Heavy Artillery) wrote: “Our first night at the fort was one long to be remembered, no provision had been made for us and, as we had neither blankets nor overcoats, we were obliged to take the cold stone floor for bed with nothing to cover us, the cold wind blowing through the embrasures from the ocean.”… The Lincoln administration’s efforts to check subversion behind the lines directly affected Fort Warren’s role as a war prison—as did also the shift of military fortune in favor of the Union. Shortly after the conflict began, the fear of disloyalty in the North led to many political arrests, especially in the border state of Maryland. Meanwhile, the Union army captured the Confederate fort at Hatteras Island, North Carolina. Massachusetts received its first intimation of 43

the impending arrival of prisoners from both these actions 4) they might have newspapers and send and receive letters when Governor Andrew was officially requested to send a subject to certain censorship provisions; 5) visitors were contingent to Fort Warren for guard duty. Colonel Justin permitted upon receipt of authorization from Washington E. Dimick, a professional soldier who up to this time and with an officer present; 6) released prisoners must be had been commanding officer at Fortress Monroe, was examined to prevent the transmission of secret messages; transferred to the command of the and 7) detailed records of food Massachusetts fort. The orders and clothing issued each prisoner forwarded to him on October 19, must be kept. The instructions also “that peculiar sickening smell 1861, contained seven points on required Colonel Dimick to resist procedure: 1) the prisoners were known as a ‘Poor House Smell‘ all efforts to release either military to be “securely held,” but were to or political prisoners by a writ of familiar to all who have gone be “treated with all kindness”; 2) habeas corpus. Coincidentally with adequate records should be kept the transmission of these orders, through Almshouses.” in connection with all of them; Captain George A. Kensel, the 3) prisoners would be allowed United States Quartermaster in to provide themselves with such Boston, was instructed to prepare comforts as they required and could afford, and they might rations for 100 prisoners for a thirty-day period.5 receive, subject to inspection, articles of food, clothing and On October 27, 1861, prisoners of war at Fort Columbus small sums of money not exceeding twenty dollars at a time; in New York harbor learned that they were to be transferred

to Fort Warren. Three days later they were taken on board the State of Maine, which had already picked up the political prisoners from Fort Lafayette. There were 155 political prisoners and over 600 prisoners of war on the State of Maine when she arrived off George’s Island, and many of them were depressed at their first sight of Fort Warren.6 Colonel Dimick met them at the dock and was dismayed to find the number so much in excess of the 100 he had expected. Unprepared for so many prisoners, he was obliged to tell them they must remain on board another night.… Lieutenant John Buell, the officer assigned to accompany the political prisoners from Fort Lafayette, took this opportunity to consult with them about roomng arrangements. The better known and wealthier among the Confederate soldiers formed into groups of eight or nine for assignment to rooms in the officers’ quarters of the fort. Forty-five of the others “who had no money, and for other reasons were not entitled to officers’ quarters” were allotted a room seventeen by fifty feet in size. The remainder of the men wre lined up the next morning when they disembarked and given their room assignments. Political prisoners were on the south side of the fort, to the left of the archway, and prisoners of war were on the right, or north side. Almost immediately complaints arose about the arrangements. John M. Brewer, a former reading cleark of the Maryland Legislature, wrote that “there was not a single particle of furniture in my room, except a stove—no chairs, no bedsteads, in a word, nothing.” Later in the day Brewer and his roommates were give “two pieces of timber lying parallel with slats nailed transversely theron,” but no blankets or mattresses. They discovered that they would have to sleep on these until iron bedsteads arrived from Fort Lafayette. Lawrence Sangston, a Maryland legislator, and seven other men occupied a sixteen-by-eighteen-foot room which, like Brewer’s, was unfurnished. Not caring particularly for his roommates, Sangston succeeded in finding a smaller one which he shared with only one other prisoner.8…

obtain permission from the Officer of the Day in order to pass through the cordon from one group to the other.11… After the initial problems attendant upon their arrival had been resolved, the Fort Warren prisoners reported a steady improvement in their rations, quarters, and in the development of a surprisingly amicable relationship with the garrison. The quality of the meals was on three levels. Men with ample means fared excellently; those with not as much money at their disposal ate reasonably well; their less affluent companions had to be satisfied with regular army rations. Lawrence Sangston and a group of well-todo Maryland prisoners formed a private mess and arranged to purchase various delicacies in Boston. This worked out very satisfactorily, for Sangston described several culinary triumphs which made “capital prison fare.” His explanatory comment was that “money will enable you to live anywhere, especially where there is a Yankee near and he wants it, as he usually does.”15… …One of the Maryland contingent said that the North Carolina men starved for several days after their arrival, but that later “they received their rations regularly and large boilers were placed in front of their quarters for them to cook in. These were in the open air and not in any way sheltered, and the men had to cook there in all kinds of

Shortly after they arrived, Confederate officers received a limited parole of the island. In return for their pledge not to attempt an escape, the men had considerable freedom of movement with opportunities for fresh air and exercise. They were not permitted to go near the wharves and barracks. Sangston protested indignantly that the political prisoners were allotted a small outside exercise area only 150 feet long by 30 feet wide, and wondered why there should be discrimination against these men (who had been arrested without any charges being preferred against them) while those captured in arms against the government were allowed so much freedom. However, the Hatteras officers were also dissatisfied; the area where their men were confined was considered part of the barracks and therefore restricted. They complained that this greatly curtailed their freedom of movement because the sentries were unable to distinguish between the prisoners of war and the prisoners of state. They consequently were obliged to 45

weather during the time they remained, which was until they were exchanged in February, 1862.”17 Sangston, who visited the North Carolina prisoners in mid-November wrote: “Each room is furnished with a large iron kettle with a furnace under it outside the door, in which kettle they boil their meat and soup, and make their coffee, all exposed to the weather. I have often noticed them, thinly clad, cooking their rations in a driving rain or snow storm.”18

overcoats for some of the prisoners, resented such attacks and compared them to Apache ferocity. Referring to charges levied against him, William Appleton expressed the conviction that Christianity and the rules of courtesy justified gifts to his old friends, ex-Minister Faulkner and George Eustis. Moreover, he felt that he had satisfactorily proved his loyalty to the Union by having contributed thousands of dollars to the war effort.20 … A prisoner’s status as an officer or enlisted man determined the comfort of his lodgings, as did social standing among the political prisoners. Shortly after his arrival, Major Sparrow wrote of having a “homelike” bed with paper curtains on the windows of his no and an oilcloth on the table.22

A steady influx of gifts helped to make the prisoners more comfortable. Friends and relatives kept them supplied with such comforts as were permitted—as did sympathizers from the border and northern “In that large heart states and charitably inclined bitterness, no malice, no sectional The assignment of rooms was Bostonians. Major Sparrow a constant source of irritation to received four shirts and 100 hate could find an abiding place.” both groups. Political prisoners paper collars from a friend in protested that their rooms were New York, and a Mr. Thomas overcrowded. Charles Morehead Simmons of Boston urged the complained of the impossibility of writing letters because major to call upon him for anything he might need. Colonel he had to share a ten-by-twenty-foot room with nine others. William F. Martin of the 7th North Carolina reported to Several weeks later he still professed to be uncomfortable, the Confederate Secretary of War that “a friend of Mr. although there were eight fewer men in his quarters.23 S. Teackly Wallis of Baltimore, a resident of Boston, sent To protests from guards that the political prisoners were him some thousand dollars worth of clothing, which he housed better than the garrison was quartered, Colonel distributed among the sailors and my men.” Colonel Martin Dimick replied that the prisoners were put in the inner two credited the people of Boston with having given $800 of four similar sets of quarters because they were safest, worth of clothing to the Hatteras prisoners.19 and therefore the easiest to guard. Limitations of space At least two Bostonians who contributed to the necessitated the placing of eight or nine men in each room.24 prisoners’ comfort felt compelled to defend themselves Yet the enlisted men and many of the political prisoners against the charge of being pro-Confederate. Robert C. were not as well housed. When Sangston visited the latter Winthrop, who had sent wines to ex-Governor Charles to distribute clothing sent by some Baltimore ladies, S. Morehead of Kentucky and to Charles Faulkner (a he found forty-five crowded into a room approximately former Minister to France), and who had also provided 46

seventeen by fifty feet. He described it as “almost unendurable” and pervaded by “that peculiar sickening smell known as a ‘Poor House Smell’ familiar to all who have gone through Almshouses.” He soon discovered that the North Carolina enlisted men were even less comfortable. Although their quarters were the same size, the number of occupants varied from sixty-five to eighty-five to the room.25… Both the military and the political prisoners quickly acquired a high degree of respect for Colonel Dimick. John M. Brewer wrote that Dimick “did all in his power to render our condition more tolerable….He was a kind and a good man, and was willing to extend to us every privilege that the Government would allow.” Sangston added: “We experienced none of the rudeness and insolence we had daily to encounter at Fort Lafayette….In that large heart of his no bitterness, no malice, no sectional hate could find an abiding place. There was not a prisoner under his charge who did not learn to respect and love him before a week had rolled over their heads.”29… There were no prisoners at Fort Warren from the latter part of 1862 until July, 1863. In December, 1861, and February, 1862, virtually all of the North Carolina prisoners were sent South to be exchanged; in July of the latter year, the Fort Donelson officers were similarly returned. Various methods of adjudication were used in connection with the political prisoners. Some were released after taking the oath of allegiance, others were freed on parole, and on November 26, 1862, the last small group of obstinate holdouts among them were unconditionally set free by the Federal government.

Late in 1863, Colonel Dimick was transferred from his assignment for reasons of health. Prisoners sent to Fort Warren during the latter part of the war were not as comfortable under Dimick’s successor, Major Stephen Cabot.… None of the subsequent commanders at Fort Warren made such an impression on the prisoners as did Colonel Dimick, although the men apparently bore them no ill will. Even Pollard, who was often vindictive in his remarks, wrote that after he was registered by Major Cabot on his arrival, he was turned over to Lieutenant Edward Parry, who was “very civil” and spared him “the indignity of a search” of his effects. According to Pollard the fort’s officers showed the prisoners “all the kindness they could venture within the framework of the system of punishment of prisoners of war demanded at Washington.” Prison officialswere also sympathetic with the natural desire of the men for freedom. They often made a point of recommending the release of those who made application to the Commissary General of Prisoners.45 When the war ended, the prisoners, next to their primary concern about the South’s future, were greatly interested n the relaxation of the conditions of their confinement pending their release. … Relations between officers of both factions seemed as harmonious as in former years except for one unfortunate instance of sectional bias. General Eppa Hunton of Lee’s staff was contemptuous of Major Harvey A. Allen, the fort’s commander at that time, because in spite of his North Caarolina origin, Allen had remained with the Union. The Confederate prisoners “never recognized him” and refused to shake hands with him on their departure. Hunton condeded that the officers and men at Forth Warren were

kind to him. He made the interesting observation that the Confederate generals first learned that they were to be freed when the troops of the garrison cheered upon hearing the news.47 As orders came from Washington directing the release of different categories of prisoners, newspaper reports of their departure were inevitably colored by some of the animosity of the conflict. Both the Traveller and the Journal stated that they spoke well of their treatment and presented a favorable contrast to Federal soldiers who survived Libby Prison and Andersonville. The Advertiser noted: “Their condition did not indicate any lack of good living, and widely differed from that of many who return from Southern prisons.”48 … Even without the obvious comparisons with contemporary military prisons, his [Colonel Dimick] influence and sympathy made this New England fortress an outstanding example of humanity in time of stress.

NOTES *The full article is available on the Project Muse database via the Salem State University Library or through the Civil War History webpage at www.kentstateuniversitypress.com/category/cwh_journal/. The portraits of the Confederate soldiers illustrating this article can be found at the Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C. 20540 USA, hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/pp.print 5 U.S. War Dept. (comp.), War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies (Washington, 18801901), Ser. II, II, 110. Hereafter cited as OR, with all references being to Ser. II. See also Boston Journal, Boston Post, and Daily Evening Traveller, Nov. 1, 1861, Boston Transcript, Nov. 2, 1861. 6 Fort Warren Register No. 1, Army Section, National Archives. The prisoners—both political and military—are listed on pp. 1-10, 23-61. See also Thomas Sparrow Papers and Diary, Southern Historical Collection, University of North Carolina, entry of Nov. 1, 1861. Hereafter cited as Sparrow Diary. 8 Brewer, Prison Life!, pp. 19-21; Sangston, Bastiles of the North, pp. 66, 79-81; Sparrow Diary, entry of Nov. 1, 1861. 11 Sangston, Bastiles of the North, p. 71; Sparrow Diary, entries of Nov. 2, 6, 1861. 15

Sangston, Bastiles of the North, pp. 71-79.

Marshall, American Bastille, p. 690.

Sangston, Bastiles of the North, pp. 84-85.

Sparrow Diary, entry of Nov. 11, 1861; OR III, 763.

20 R. C. Winthrop, Jr., A Memoir of Robert C. Winthrop (Boston, 1897), p. 222; William Appleton, Selections from the Diaries of William Appleton, 1786-1862 (Boston, 1922), p. 248. 22

Sparrow Diary, entry of Nov. 20, 1861.

23 J. Stoddard Johnston, Memorial History of Louisville (Chicago, 1896), I, 194; Mrs. Chapman Coleman, The Life of John J. Crittenden (Philadelphia, 1871), II, 333-36. 24 For example, Charles Faulkner, ex-Governor Morehead and Mayor Brown of Baltimore, along with six others, occupied a room the size of Major Parker’s. 25

Sangston, Bastiles of the North, pp. 84-85.

29 Ibid., p. 72; Alexander Hunter, “Confederate Prisoners in Boston,” New England Magazine XXIII (1901), 695. See also Richmond Enquirer, Aug. 15, 1862. 45 Pollard, Observations in the North, pp. 32-33. Summaries of those Fort Warren prisoners who made suc applications are in the Case Histories of the Commissary General of Prisoners, Army Section, National Archives. 47 Eppa Hunton, Autobiography of Eppa Hunton (Richmond, 1933), p. 139.

Dr. Minor McLain’s interest in Civil War prisons stemmed in part from his own experiences as a prisoner of war in Germany during World War II. He is currently associate professor of history at the State College at Salem, Massachusetts. This article is a condensation of his doctoral thesis at Boston University.

48 Daily Evening Traveller, June 12, 1865; Boston Journal, June 12, 1865; Boston Daily Advertiser, June 14, 1865.

Answers to: Is it Macro or Micro? Pages 24-34

Landsat satellite image of the Ganges-Brahmaputra delta. Approximately 100 km by 60 km. Data downloaded from the Global Land Cover Facility and processed by S. Young.

Microscope image of threads on a small screw. Magnification about 90X. Imaged by P. Kelly.

Microscope image of the wing of a Blue Darner Dragonfly. Magnification about 75X. Imaged by P. Kelly.

Landsat satellite image of central Mali. Approximately 60 km by 40 km. Data downloaded from the Global Land Cover Facility and processed by S. Young.

Satellite image of groundwater fed lakes in the Gobi Desert in China’s Inner Mongolia (2005). Approximately 14 km by 14 km. Data downloaded from the European Space Agency with additional image processing by S. Young.

Digital photograph from the International space station (transformed into black and white) of deforestation in Bolivia (2001). Approximately 16 km across. Data provided by the Earth Sciences and Image Analysis Laboratory at Johnson Space Center and processed by S. Young.

Digital photograph from the International space station (transformed into black and white) of agriculture in Lake Tandou, NSW, Australia (2002). Approximately 16 km across. Data downloaded from NASA’s Earth Observatory and processed by S. Young.

Microscope image of Marchantia (a moss-like plant commonly known as a liverwort) Magnification about 350X. Imaged by P. Kelly.

D Microscope image of a polished mineral sample. Magnification about 500X. Imaged by P. Kelly.

E Microscope image of a rotted human tooth. Magnification about 150X. Imaged by P. Kelly.

An ASTER image of the Atlas mountains of Morocco (2001). Approximately 28 km by 29 km. Image downloaded from NASA’s Earth Observatory web site and processed by S. Young.

Microscope image of the surface of the tongue of a Leopard Frog. Scanning electron microscope image. Width of image approximately 500 µm. Imaged and processed by P. Kelly.

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