James Chappel’s thought-provoking Golden Years offers strategies to understand and address the needs of America’s aging population.
James Chappel’s thought-provoking Golden Years offers strategies to understand and address the needs of America’s aging population.
Jonathan D. Katz’s About Face celebrates the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall uprising with deep scholarship and thrilling artworks.
Jonathan D. Katz’s About Face celebrates the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall uprising with deep scholarship and thrilling artworks.
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The 10-month struggle in the U.S. Congress in 1850 to resolve questions about the status of the new territories gained in the Mexican War and the future of slavery in present-day New Mexico and Utah could have turned out differently. In reading the officially reported speeches given by a quite diverse group of senators, who felt passionately about their beliefs, one feels that secession by Southern states and the war with the North was imminent.

Three legendary figures in American history—Henry Clay, Daniel Webster and John C. Calhoun (who was in ill health and died during the session)—participated in the debate. Clay’s leadership was crucial. His Omnibus bill, as it was most often called, proposed eight resolutions that, taken together, he said, represented “a great national scheme of compromise and harmony.” But Clay’s approach unraveled, and Senator Stephen Douglas adroitly saw that the larger proposal was divided into individual bills on which congressmen could vote (or abstain) based on their political interests.

Fergus M. Bordewich brings this dramatic Washington, D.C., setting—as well as California, Texas, New Mexico, New York and Cuba, among other places—to illuminating life in America’s Great Debate: Henry Clay, Stephen A. Douglas, and the Compromise that Preserved the Union. The difficulties of the Congress became apparent when it took 63 roll call ballots to elect a Speaker of the House of Representatives. In the Senate there were both proslavery and antislavery Whigs and Democrats and slave owners who were Unionists. At one extreme, Jefferson Davis said that human bondage was fully justified by the Bible, validated by the U.S. Constitution and a blessing for the slaves themselves. William Seward, on the other hand, declared there was a “higher law than the Constitution”: God’s law that commanded Christians to disobey laws they considered unjust, in particular those that upheld slavery. Bordewich notes that in the 20th century, civil disobedience on moral grounds would become familiar, but in 1850 Americans on all sides thought such behavior would lead to anarchy.

The author also focuses on the two presidents who served during this period. Zachary Taylor agreed to run as the Whig candidate for president with the understanding that he would be independent of party demands. He refused to campaign at all or to express views on perennial issues. As president, it developed that he was opposed to a compromise. But he died on July 9, and his successor, Millard Fillmore, was in favor of the compromise. Bordewich sees Fillmore as the “most elusive” of all the central figures in the debate. His political base in New York state was a center of Underground Railroad activity and he detested slavery. He saw it, though, as a political problem rather than a moral one and thought the federal government did not have the authority to be for or against it.

Fillmore immediately signed all of the bills that were part of the Compromise except for the Fugitive Slave Act, a drastic overhaul of what many in the South regarded as the ineffectual 1793 law of the same name. He hesitated and perhaps agonized over it for two days before signing it into law. It may have been as much a political calculation as anything else, as he planned to run for the presidency in 1852 and had to consider whether it would be wiser for him to offend the North or the South. As events went forward, Bordewich notes that the passage of the Fugitive Slave Bill “would have a more far-reaching impact on the nation’s slavery crisis problem than any other facet of the compromise.”

At the end of the day, California was admitted to the Union as a free state, the New Mexico and Utah territories were created with the issue of slavery to be resolved by popular sovereignty, a Texas-New Mexico boundary dispute was settled in favor of Texas, slave trading was ended in Washington, D.C., and there was the harsh Fugitive Slave Law, which the author considers “the single most intrusive assertion of federal authority enacted during the antebellum period.” And, of course, the Compromise held until the Civil War.

Bordewich, whose other books include Bound for Canaan: The Underground Railroad and the War for the Soul of America and Washington: The Making of the American Capital, has written a rich work that transports us back to a time when leaders realized that only compromise would hold the Union together.

The 10-month struggle in the U.S. Congress in 1850 to resolve questions about the status of the new territories gained in the Mexican War and the future of slavery in present-day New Mexico and Utah could have turned out differently. In reading the officially reported…

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When Lyndon Johnson was a teenager, in a family of modest means, he predicted that some day he was going to be president of the United States. In the fourth volume of Robert Caro’s superlative multi-volume biography, The Years of Lyndon Johnson, this one titled The Passage of Power, Johnson reaches that office but only because of the assassination of John F. Kennedy.

Caro’s narrative grabs us from the beginning and, with his meticulous research and insight, shows how the two hugely ambitious and competitive politicians dealt with each other in a town where gaining and using power is the name of the game. Although there are forays into other areas, the author tells essentially two stories. The first story deals with the period from late 1958, when Johnson began to think seriously about gaining the 1960 Democratic presidential nomination for himself, and ends when President Kennedy is killed. LBJ agreed to be JFK’s running mate, although, pragmatist that he was, he remained on the ballot in Texas as a candidate for his Senate seat. He endured three years of humiliation and embarrassment as vice president. The second story begins when Johnson masterfully takes charge and details his presidential leadership, including very significant legislative achievements, in particular a historic civil rights bill, during the first seven weeks after he became president. The period covered in this volume is no doubt one of the high points of Johnson’s career.

Political biography doesn’t get any better than what Caro does. When I interviewed him for BookPage in 1990 on the occasion of the publication of the second of his LBJ volumes, Means of Ascent, he said he would cover his subject in four volumes. But as his research, including interviews with many participants, has continued, Caro has uncovered important details that make his books indispensable to anyone interested in how LBJ gained and used political power, and he wants to share them with his readers. With the rest of the 1961-1965 presidential term to be completed, the 1964 presidential election triumph, the Vietnam War and his decision to not run again, there may be more than one additional volume to be written.

Caro always shows us the many sides of LBJ. He could be “crude, coarse, ruthless, often cruel” and had a penchant for deception and secrecy. But he could also be cool and decisive under pressure, as he demonstrated in the weeks following the assassination. He was definitely a political genius, a legislative strategist and tactician of the highest order. This book is filled with examples of his mastery in this regard, but it is especially shown by LBJ’s approaches to senators Harry Byrd and Everett Dirksen when he needed their help in moving legislation forward. While Caro is well aware of how power can corrupt, he also believes it is equally true that power reveals a politician’s deepest commitments. In LBJ’s case, this led, despite his friendship with Southern senators who were opposed, to his vigorous effort to pass the 1964 civil rights bill. LBJ went on to introduce other groundbreaking progressive legislation, including the War on Poverty.

After Johnson retired from the presidency, he said, “The one thing I feared from the first day of my presidency” was that Robert Kennedy would announce “his intention to reclaim the throne in memory of his brother.” Caro details the LBJ-RFK relationship, based on mutual distrust, disdain and hatred. The author notes the opposition by some liberal groups and their disappointment at the 1960 Democratic convention to Johnson’s nomination as JFK’s vice presidential choice. But he discounts Robert’s contention that his brother did not really want Johnson on the ticket. JFK’s close aide and speechwriter Theodore Sorensen acknowledged that Kennedy had “gambled” on LBJ and the “gamble paid off.” The presidential race was so close that, without Johnson as his running mate, Kennedy would have lost the election to Richard Nixon.

Caro concludes that in the seven weeks after assuming the presidency, Johnson did much more than give the country continuity and reassurance. He achieved those objectives masterfully. But in addition, he used the momentum brought on by JFK’s death to launch what he envisioned as the transformation of American society, a pivotal moment in the history of the United States, a time to launch a crusade for social justice on a grand new scale.

There is much more to come. We eagerly look forward to Caro’s next volume.

 

When Lyndon Johnson was a teenager, in a family of modest means, he predicted that some day he was going to be president of the United States. In the fourth volume of Robert Caro’s superlative multi-volume biography, The Years of Lyndon Johnson, this one titled…

Why do we fall in love with people we barely know?

In her humorous and poignant memoir of a wedding and an earthquake in the Dominican Republic, novelist Julia Alvarez (How the García Girls Lost Their Accents) attempts to answer this question as she tells the tale of a young worker on her coffee plantation, Piti, and his efforts to make a life by traveling from his home in Haiti to work in the neighboring country.

Alvarez’s friendship with Piti begins when, driving past a neighboring farm, she spies him among a group of his friends playing with kites. She snaps a picture of his smiling face and shows him the picture when she returns, and he beams with wonder and gratitude. On subsequent trips from the U.S., Alvarez brings him jeans, a shirt and a bag in which he can carry his belongings as he makes the often dangerous border crossing from Haiti into the Dominican Republic.

Piti soon becomes a worker on the Alvarez coffee farm, and Alvarez grows closer and closer to this young man. One evening after supper and a night of singing with Piti and the other workers at her little house, she makes one of those “big-hearted promises that you never think you’ll be otherwise called on to keep”: She promises that she’ll be there on Piti’s wedding day.

In early August 2009, Alvarez receives a message from Piti informing her that his girlfriend, Eseline, has had a baby and that the two are getting married on August 20. Recalling her promise, Piti eagerly asks if Alvarez and her husband Bill will be attending the wedding. Reluctant at first, for she is scheduled to attend the Intergenerational Council of Thirteen Indigenous Grandmothers the week of the wedding, Alvarez realizes that she cannot break her promise, so she and Bill make arrangements to attend Piti’s wedding.

Alvarez’s arduous trip to Eseline’s home reveals the unsettled political and cultural character of Haiti, as various crossings of checkpoints involve bribery and haranguing guards. Once they reach Eseline’s village, the wedding commences and celebrates the new union between the two young people with enchanting singing that the attendees never want to end.

A year later, Alvarez and Bill embark on another, more trying and difficult journey, as they return to Haiti following the disastrous earthquake in search of Piti’s family and friends. Through all the devastation, Alvarez recalls the lesson that her love for Piti and his family have already taught her. Once we have become involved in something, she tenderly and forcefully points out, that relationship transforms us, and we have an obligation to it.

Why do we fall in love with people we barely know?

In her humorous and poignant memoir of a wedding and an earthquake in the Dominican Republic, novelist Julia Alvarez (How the García Girls Lost Their Accents) attempts to answer this question as she tells the…

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Alison Bechdel’s graphic memoir about her mother is not, immediately, a memoir about her mother. Or at any rate, it’s not only that. Bechdel—whose previous book, 2006’s excellent Fun Home, centered on the volatile presence of her closeted gay father and the funeral home where she grew up—here delves deeply and bravely into her own complicated psyche as well as her mother’s. More than anything, Are You My Mother? is an excavation, digging into Bechdel’s relationship with psycho­analysis and, in particular, with the work of a groundbreaking doctor named Donald Winnicott.

As she struggles to come to terms with her mother, Bechdel writes about the emotional and psychic fallout from her first book, the periods of depression that she and her mother and (she discovers) her grandmother all endured, her difficulties in romantic partnerships with other women and, above all, her yearning for some sign of validation or approval from her mother. In other words—though Bechdel is as scathingly funny as ever—this is not exactly light reading. Even structurally, the book is far from straightforward; it is, as her mother notes in the final chapter, “a meta book.” Each chapter begins with a dream Bechdel recalls, the significance of which becomes clear bit by bit as the story moves along.

Epiphanies in real life don’t necessarily happen in chronological order, and they don’t here, either; often it’s not until she checks a date in one of her old journals that Bechdel realizes how two events fit together, how they inform her view of herself. In flashbacks and “photocopies,” she recreates therapy sessions, diary entries, her father’s letters to her mother, her own conversations and arguments with lovers, memories of plays her mother acted in when Bechdel was a child and relevant writings by Virginia Woolf and the fascinating Winnicott. These form a pastiche, kind of a psychic map, which might have been confusing for the reader except that Bechdel’s narrative control is so strong. And visually, the book is so consistent and the drawings so clean that the pages never look messy or disorganized, despite the level of detail on each.

Though the material she’s working with is incredibly rich and multi­layered, both intellectually and emotionally complex, Bechdel makes it easy to follow her journey inward. You’ll be glad you did.

Alison Bechdel’s graphic memoir about her mother is not, immediately, a memoir about her mother. Or at any rate, it’s not only that. Bechdel—whose previous book, 2006’s excellent Fun Home, centered on the volatile presence of her closeted gay father and the funeral home…

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Yes, Virginia, there really was a man named Birdseye behind the Birds Eye® frozen food brand.

Clarence Birdseye, who was born in Brooklyn at the end of 1886, did not originate the idea of fast-freezing food—he always credited the Inuit for the concept. But as Mark Kurlansky points out in this charming biography, Birdseye “changed our civilization. He created an industry by modernizing the process of food preservation and in so doing nationalized and then internationalized food distribution.”

Locavores certainly won’t think that’s such a great legacy. Fresh food is definitely better than frozen, but Kurlansky notes that at the time, many people, especially the urban poor and middle classes, were eating canned food of inferior quality. Before Birdseye began tinkering with food-freezing processes in 1923, attempts to freeze fish, meat and vegetables often turned to rancid mush. As a result, consumers were extremely skeptical about frozen foods. So Birdseye pushed relentlessly for a high-quality product, which he marketed with energetic creativity. Just before the 1929 stock market crash, Birdseye sold his company to what would soon become General Foods for the astonishing sum of $23.5 million. He stayed on with the new company as an executive, and later as a consultant, continuing to invent new products and processes.

Birdseye was 37 years old when he began trying to preserve food by freezing it. Before that his life seemed to be an almost random assortment of efforts, beset by failure. He liked to tinker and invent. He liked to hunt and was always interested in food. He was insatiably curious and eager for adventure—first in the territories of the western U.S. (where he often worked in life-threatening circumstances as a U.S. Department of Agriculture researcher) and later in the iced-in reaches of Labrador (where he tried and eventually failed to build a fox-farming business). He believed in taking risks; rather than being defeated by failures, he culled from them the lessons he needed to bring his grandest project to fruition.

In Kurlansky’s telling, Birdseye was both ahead of and a product of his era. A prodigious inventor/marketer, he rarely recorded anything about his personal thoughts or inner life. He wore a necktie while gardening, for heaven’s sake. But the prolific Kurlansky, whose marvelous bestsellers Salt and Cod demonstrate a knack for discovering the vibrant details that bring a subject to life, manages to correct many of the myths that have accreted to the Birdseye story. And while he does not solve all the mysteries of Clarence Birdseye’s personality, he offers an account of his life and accomplishments that is sympathetic, informative and eye-opening.

Yes, Virginia, there really was a man named Birdseye behind the Birds Eye® frozen food brand.

Clarence Birdseye, who was born in Brooklyn at the end of 1886, did not originate the idea of fast-freezing food—he always credited the Inuit for the concept. But as Mark…

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As the 2010 Affordable Care Act marks its second anniversary this spring, the arguments about so-called Obamacare continue. Our overly complex—some say “broken”—healthcare system might function a lot better if every single American citizen, healthcare professional, politician and legislator would read Victoria Sweet’s insightful, beautifully written and moving book God’s Hotel.

When Dr. Sweet—now a professor of medicine at the University of California, San Francisco—came to work at San Francisco’s old-fashioned, “low-tech” Laguna Honda Hospital, it was only for a few months. But she fell in love with the place and its patients, residents of America’s last almshouse, and stayed on for more than 20 years.

Laguna Honda, a public institution that cares long term for people with severe and debilitating medical conditions, the chronically ill and the dying, was originally modeled on the medieval European “hotel-Dieu” that ministered to the sick in the Middle Ages. Its unique layout, consisting of long, open wards, each functioning like a “separate minihospital,” was like nothing Sweet had ever seen. What hospital, she marveled, had an orchard and greenhouse, an aviary and a barnyard? Here, she found she could “practice medicine the way I’d been taught . . . and the way I wanted.”

As Sweet begins her practice of “slow medicine,” caring for a diverse population of patients with complicated and often horrible medical problems, she also studies pre-modern medicine, focusing on the work of medieval healer and monastic Hildegard of Bingen. The doctor, according to Hildegard’s doctrine, should be seen more as a gardener than as a mechanic: a healer who takes time to observe the body’s “garden”—with its natural cycles, functions and ability to heal itself. As she began applying this philosophy to her own work, Sweet learned that simply taking the time to talk with and observe a patient could effect profound solutions to terrible mental and physical suffering.

Yet God’s Hotel also offers a behind-the-scenes look at the politics and policies of the 21st-century healthcare model and its sometimes cold, clinical approach to providing care while keeping a constant eye on the bottom line. Indeed, the “old” Laguna Honda Hospital now is gone, replaced by a modern, new facility. “It was beautiful, but it wasn’t warm,” writes Sweet, regretting the loss of a place where she had “discovered the hospitality, community and charity that were in the walls and the air”: a place where she could “just sit” with patients and accept “the gift” of God’s Hotel.

As the 2010 Affordable Care Act marks its second anniversary this spring, the arguments about so-called Obamacare continue. Our overly complex—some say “broken”—healthcare system might function a lot better if every single American citizen, healthcare professional, politician and legislator would read Victoria Sweet’s insightful, beautifully…

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