In this blogger's checkered past, he stumbled into a family whose matriarch was a paternal grandmother who was known to the grandchildren children as Grandmother, not Grandma, Gram, or Ma-Ma. When this white-haired member of the United Daughters of the Confederacy met this blogger, she sniffed audibly as if she smelled something suspicious brought in on the sole of someone's shoe. Later a visit to east Tennessee allowed this blogger to see the Old South that produced this Grandmother and the blogger couldn't get out of that town soon enough. If this is a (fair & balanced) lesson in the power of racism, so be it.
[x NY Fishwrap]
The Confederacy’s "Living Monuments"
By Karen L. Cox
TagCrowd cloud of the following piece of writing
Since the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, VA, in August, journalists have written extensively about Confederate monuments — the causes and people they represent and the history of their creation. In doing so, some have written about the role that the United Daughters of the Confederacy [UDC] played in a vast majority of monuments placed throughout the South in the decades after the group’s founding in 1894. Yet what they have missed, and what most Americans need to know, is that these bronze and stone memorials were just one part of a broad agenda to vindicate the men and women whom the Daughters often referred to as the “generation of the ’60s.”
When this organization of Southern white women was founded in Nashville, only 30 women were in attendance. Within 10 years, their numbers had grown to 30,000, and by World War I they were an army of 100,000 women, engaged in the fight to preserve and perpetuate the myths that the Confederate cause was a just and honorable one and that states’ rights, not slavery, was its call to arms. (Of course, a state’s right to maintain the institution of slavery was generally not part of that narrative.)
The organization had a decidedly elitist bent: Many of the women in the UDC rank and file and leadership were related by marriage or kinship to leading politicians and men of power across the South. Daisy McLaurin Stevens, for example, was the daughter of Anselm McLaurin, a senator and governor of Mississippi; she became president-general of the UDC in 1913 and spoke at the unveiling of the Confederate monument in Arlington National Cemetery. Still other members were related to men in their state legislatures or leaders in local governments. These relationships were key to achieving their objectives.
The Daughters’ ambitious agenda was not solely focused on monuments. They sought to collect and preserve the artifacts of war, as well as archival material, which they believed would help tell a “truthful” history of the Confederacy. Indeed, what they collected often formed the basis of the first state archives and museums of history in the South.
They lobbied members of their state legislatures, men they knew personally, to provide Confederate veterans with military pensions. And they helped establish Confederate soldiers’ and widows’ homes throughout the region, institutions that were then maintained by state governments.
The Daughters’ primary objective, however, was to instill in Southern white youth a reverence for Confederate principles. Indeed, they regarded their efforts to educate children as their most important work as they sought, in their words, to build “living monuments” who would grow up to defend states’ rights and white supremacy.
Members of the UDC developed a multipronged approach to educating white children about the “truth” of the “War Between the States.” They developed lesson plans for teachers, a number of whom were members of the organization. They placed pro-Confederate books in school and public libraries, which they insisted students use when they competed in UDC-sponsored essay contests. They led students in the celebration of Robert E. Lee’s life on his birthday and placed portraits of Confederate heroes, festooned with the battle flag, in classrooms across the South and even in some schools outside of the region. They also formed Children of the Confederacy chapters for boys and girls ages 6 to 16, intended to serve as a pipeline for membership in both the UDC and the Sons of Confederate Veterans, a parallel organization.
The children’s organization is also where the Daughters taught the Confederate catechism, generally written by one of their members. Cornelia Branch Stone, of Galveston, TX, wrote one of the earliest in 1905. The catechism, a call and response to a series of questions, was drilled into children at their meetings. “What causes led to the War Between the States, between 1861 and 1865?” was a typical question. “The disregard, on the part of the states of the North, for the rights of the Southern or slaveholding states” was the answer. “What were these rights?” The answer, according to Stone’s catechism, was “the right to regulate their own affairs and to hold slaves as property.” There were also questions and answers that led children to believe that slavery was a benevolent institution in which cruel masters were rare.
School textbooks were, of course, monitored by local and state boards for truthfulness, and UDC historians wrote their own booklets of “facts” for those authorities to use. Mildred Rutherford, of Athens, Ga., wrote several such booklets, including one criticizing Abraham Lincoln’s presidency. She also mailed them to both white and black public schools requesting they be used. Laura Martin Rose, who wrote as Mrs. S.E.F. Rose, wrote an influential school primer on the Ku Klux Klan. Although she lived in Mississippi, Rose was from Pulaski, TN, where the original Klan was founded, and her correspondence with original Klansmen informed her publication. She was lauded by Confederate organizations for “bringing the true history of this great organization to the young people of the Southland, our boys and girls of today who will be our citizens of tomorrow.”
Those “citizens of tomorrow,” who drank from the cup of history brewed by the UDC for generations, became the “living monuments” that Southern white women sought to build. In the 1950s and ’60s, they were segregationists who hoisted the Confederate battle flag with talk of defending states’ rights and who denounced federal intervention into their affairs. They were members of the White Citizens’ Councils who spoke of “states’ rights and racial integrity.” And they were individuals like Senators James O. Eastland and Strom Thurmond and Birmingham’s infamous commissioner of public safety, Eugene Connor, known as Bull. They were also people like Byron De La Beckwith, who assassinated Medgar Evers in 1963. Beckwith’s aunt, Lucy Yerger, had been the president of the Mississippi UDC and gave some of the most virulently racist speeches to come out of the organization. And it’s a good bet that the current attorney general, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions, raised in mid-20th-century Alabama, was exposed to the Daughters’ educational efforts in that state.
We continue to live with the legacy of those early Daughters. While the monuments they spread like seeds upon Southern soil have garnered Americans’ attention, we must not forget that their success in building “living monuments” is what has shaped Southern politics and race relations for most of the past century.
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[Karen L. Cox is a professor of history at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte and the author of Dixie’s Daughters: The United Daughters of the Confederacy and the Preservation of Confederate Culture (2003) and, most recently, Goat Castle: A True Story of Murder, Race, and the Gothic South (2017). She received both a BA and MA (history) from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro and a PhD (history) from the University of Southern Mississippi.]
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