Paperback(Reprint)
-
PICK UP IN STORECheck Availability at Nearby Stores
Available within 2 business hours
Related collections and offers
Overview
"The most definitive and expansive work on the Lost Cause and the movement to whitewash history."—Mitch Landrieu, former mayor of New Orleans
From the author of the national bestseller Lies My Teacher Told Me, a completely updated—and more timely than ever—version of the myth-busting history book that focuses on the inaccuracies, myths, and lies on monuments, statues, national landmarks, and historical sites all across America.
In Lies Across America, James W. Loewen continues his mission, begun in the award-winning Lies My Teacher Told Me, of overturning the myths and misinformation that too often pass for American history. This is a one-of-a-kind examination of historic sites all over the country where history is literally written on the landscape, including historical markers, monuments, historic houses, forts, and ships. New changes and updates include:
• a town in Louisiana that was the site of a major but now-forgotten enslaved persons' uprising
• a totally revised tour of the memory and intentional forgetting of slavery and the Civil War in Richmond, Virginia
• the hideout of a gang in Delaware that made money by kidnapping free blacks and selling them into slavery
Entertaining and enlightening, Lies Across America also has a serious role to play in contemporary debates about white supremacy and Confederate memorials.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781620974339 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | New Press, The |
| Publication date: | 09/24/2019 |
| Edition description: | Reprint |
| Pages: | 480 |
| Sales rank: | 1,062,889 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 8.80(h) x 1.40(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
In What Ways Were We Warped?
When I was a boy on our annual summer vacation trips, the family car seemed to stop at every historic marker and monument. Maybe yours did, too. Dad thought it was "good for us," and I suppose in a way it was. Little did he suspect that it was also bad for us -- that the lies we encountered on our trips across the United States subtly distorted our knowledge of the past and warped our view of the world. My sister and I needed to unlearn the myths we were learning in school, but the historic sites we visited only amplified them and taught us new ones.
My most recent book, Lies My Teacher Told Me, told how American history as taught in most high schools distorts the past and turns many students off. One result is that only one American in six ever takes a course in American history after graduating from high school. Where then do Americans learn about the past? From many sources, of course -- historical novels, Oliver Stone movies -- but surely most of all from the landscape. History is told on the landscape all across America -- on monuments at the courthouse, by guides inside antebellum homes and aboard historic ships, by the names we give to places, and on roadside historical markers. This book examines the history that some of these places tell and the processes by which they come forward to tell it.
Markers, monuments, and preserved historic sites usually result from local initiative. Typically a private organization -- the Chamber of Commerce, a church congregation, the local chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy -- takes the lead, but public monies are usually involved before it's unveiled. It follows that the sitewill tell a story favorable to the local community, and particularly to that part of the community that erected or restored it. An account from another point of view might be quite different and also more accurate.
Americans like to remember only the positive things, and communities like to publicize the great things that happened in them. One result is silliness: the first airplane was invented not by the Wright Brothers but by Rev. Burrell Cannon, and the first flight was not in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, but in Pittsburg, Texas. It must be true -- an impressive-looking Texas state historical marker says so! Meanwhile, Georgia, Massachusetts, and Rhode Island all claim the first use of anesthesia. And markers in Brunswick, Georgia, and Brunswick County, Virginia, battle over where Brunswick stew was born.
A more important result is racism. People who put up markers and monuments and preserve historic houses are usually pillars of the white community. The recent spate of Martin Luther King avenues and monuments notwithstanding, Americans still live and work in a landscape of white supremacy. Especially in the South, but all across America, even on black college campuses, markers, monuments, and names on the landscape glorify those who fought to keep African Americans in chains as well as those who after Reconstruction worked to make them second-class citizens again. What person gets the most historical markers in any state? Not Lincoln in Illinois it turns out, or Washington in Virginia, but Nathan Bedford Forrest, Confederate cavalry general and first leader of the Ku Klux Klan, in Tennessee. And white Southerners misguided enough not to be racist are ignored entirely or converted into "good white Southerners" when remembered. Thus Helen Keller's birthplace flies a Confederate flag, while she was an early supporter of the NAACP.
Other monuments express white domination over Native Americans. A later introductory essay, "Hieratic Scale in Historic Monuments," shows how sculptors typically place Native Americans lower than European Americans on historic monuments. Whites always wind up in positions of power and action while people of color are passive on the bottom. Lame Deer, a Dakota leader, sees the same message in the four European American faces carved on Mount Rushmore:
What does this Mount Rushmore mean to us Indians? It means that these big white faces are telling us, "First we gave you Indians a treaty that you could keep these Black Hills forever, as long as the sun would shine, in exchange for all the Dakotas, Wyoming, and Montana. Then we found the gold and took this last piece of land, because we were stronger, and there were more of us than there were of you, and because we had cannons and Gatling guns....And after we did all this we carved up this mountain, the dwelling place of your spirits, and put our four gleaming white faces here. We are the conquerors.
The language at historic sites is also warped. All across the country Americans call Native Americans by tribal names that are wrong and even derogatory. According to these histories on the landscape Indians are "savage," whites "discover" everything, and some causes portrayed as stainless today were drenched in blood in their own time.
Then there is the matter of who gets memorialized and who gets left out. All too often, memorials heroify people who should not be forgotten, but who should never have been commemorated -- Jeffrey Amherst for example, who initiated germ warfare in the Americas and for whom Amherst College and Amherst, Massachusetts, are named. Across America the landscape commemorates those men and women who opposed each agonizing next step our nation took on the path toward freedom and justice, while the courageous souls who challenged the United States to live out the meaning of its principles lie forgotten or even reviled. Markers and monuments in many states leave out women, sometimes so totally as to be unwittingly hilarious. The only white woman to get a historical marker in Indiana , to take one offending state, gets remembered for coming into the state minus a body part she lost in Kentucky! Kentucky, meanwhile, erected (the right word) a female Civil War horse with an extra body part that turns her into a him! Historic sites also cover up or lie about the sexual orientations of people who made their history if those orientations were gay or lesbian.
Another form of omission takes place at historic homes, which often do not take their own history seriously enough to bother to tell it like it was. Instead of telling visitors what happened to the people who lived and worked there, guides prattle on about what the guests ate and the silverware they used. Even at important historic sites like Independence Hall, guides tell charming but inconsequential and ultimately boring anecdotes rather than talk about the historic events that happened there.
Guides almost always avoid negative or controversial facts, and most monuments, markers, and historic sites omit any blemishes that might taint the heroes they commemorate, making them larger and less interesting than life. (High school history textbooks do the same thing.) Presidents especially must be perfect. When historian Richard Shenkman asked a tour guide at FDR's family mansion in Hyde Park, New York, about Roosevelt's mistresses, she told him "the guides are specifically forbidden from talking about this." Woodrow Wilson's house in Washington, D.C., says nothing negative about the man who segregated the federal government; a temporary exhibit even credited him with supporting women's suffrage, which he opposed. Even Franklin Pierce, arguably our least popular president, is lauded by the historical marker in his hometown.
But inventing blemish-free heroes doesn't really work. High school students don't really buy that the founding fathers were flawless and don't think of them as heroes to emulate. Instead they conclude that history textbooks are dishonest. Similarly, adult Americans don't really believe that their exalted forebears were as perfect as their monuments claim. I have watched tourists grow passive while guides tell them quaint stories about dead presidents. They don't know enough to ask about what's being left out, and the social situation doesn't encourage visitors to ask substantive questions, so they just traipse from room to room on automatic pilot. A critical question to ask at any historic site is: What does it leave out about the people it treats as heroes?
A special form of these omissions occurs at war museums, which present war without anguish and instead focus genially on its technology. USS Intrepid in New York City leaves out the Vietnam War entirely -- too "political" for its board of directors. Omissions such as this can be hard to detect, especially for visitors who come to a site to learn a little history without bringing some knowledge of the site with them. People don't usually think about images that aren't there.
And some images don't exist anywhere. Scottsboro, Alabama, became world-famous for exactly one incident -- the Scottsboro Case -- but although downtown Scottsboro boasts four historical markers, none mention the Scottsboro Case. "Pay attention to what they tell you to forget," poet Muriel Rukeyser once wrote, and this book does -- it covers the Scottsboro Case and three events in Richmond, a city that truncates its public memory on the day the Confederacy ceased to rule it, because of their importance -- and because they are not recognized on the landscape. Nowhere have I seen portrayed the multicultural nature of pioneer settlements, where Native Americans, European Americans, and often African Americans lived and worked together, sometimes happily. Only an obscure marker in Utah offers any hint of the trade in Indian slaves that started in 1513 and continued at least until the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. All across America, the landscape suffers from amnesia, not about everything, but about many crucial events and issues of our past.
When the landscape does not omit unpleasant stories entirely, it often tells them badly, even by the mediocre standards set by u.s. history textbooks. Except for the Chief Vann House, a state historic site in Georgia, historic sites and museums in the United States rarely depict Native American farms, frame houses, or schools compared to the enormous number of tipis they display. Thus they portray American Indians as mobile and romantic -- even when they weren't! What tourists learn about slavery by visiting most historic sites is trifling compared to the more accurate information that current textbooks provide to high school students. On Reconstruction, that period after the Civil War when the federal government tried to guarantee equal rights for African Americans, the landscape is almost silent; most sites that do mention it present a distorted "Gone With the Wind" version that never happened. Little trace remains today of the lynchings and race riots that swept the United States between 1890 and 1925, the "nadir of race relations." All across America, monuments to the Spanish-American War, which was over in three months, are inscribed "1898-1902"; few visitors realize that those dates refer to the larger and longer Philippine-American War, which otherwise has mostly vanished from the landscape and from our historical memory.
The antithesis of omission is overemphasis, and the history written on the American landscape is largely the history of the federal governments -- United States of America and Confederate States of America -- and particularly of their wars. We infer much of what we know about the ancient Mayans and Egyptians from their public sculptures and monuments. What will archaeologists ages hence infer about us? That we venerated war above all other human activities?
America has ended up with a landscape of denial. James Buchanan's house denies that our fifteenth president was gay. The Willa Cather Pioneer Memorial denies that Nebraska's most enduring writer was lesbian. Fort Pillow denies that Nathan Bedford Forrest's Confederates massacred surrendered u.s. troops there. The National Mining Hall of Fame and Museum denies that mining today causes any environmental damage. And so it goes, from sea to shining sea. These misrepresentations on the American landscape help keep us ignorant as a people, less able to understand what really happened in the past, and less able to apply our understanding to issues facing the United States today.
The thoughtful visitor can learn to read between the lines of historical markers however, and deconstruct the imagery on historic monuments. Then these sites divulge important insights not only about the eras they describe but also about the eras in which they were built. In short, the lies and omissions memorialized across the American countryside suggest times and ways that the United States went astray as a nation. They also point to unresolved issues in a third era -- our own. That's why it may be more important to understand what the historical landscape gets wrong than what it gets right.
So come along as we visit more than a hundred markers, monuments, houses, and other historic sites in all fifty states and the District of Columbia. Our journey will start in the West, mirroring the journey the first people made as they discovered the Americas and settled it from west to east. People got to the Americas by boat from northeast Asia or by walking across the Bering Strait during an ice age. Most Indians in the Americas can be traced by blood type, language similarity, and other evidence to a very small group of first arrivals. Thus they may have come by boat. Either way, afoot or by boat, evidence suggests that people entered Alaska first: Native Americans share some cultural and physical similarities with northern Asians to the west of Alaska.
Beginning in the west has the additional benefit of being unconventional. "How refreshing it would be," ethnohistorian James Axtell wrote, "to find a textbook that began on the West Coast before treating the traditional eastern colonies." The usual approach to the American past is from the vantage point of Boston, looking southwestward. Travel books too start in New England, even though Japan sends more tourists to the United States than any other nation. Europeans -- Spaniards -- were also living in New Mexico years before Anglos had moved to New England or Virginia, so it is doubly appropriate for us to make our trip from west to east. Therefore we will begin in the state that extends farthest west, Alaska, and end in Maine, farthest east. You don't have to go that direction, however. The Index of States invites you to proceed alphabetically by state or to begin with whatever state interests you, and cross-references within and at the end of entries encourage you to explore topically related entries.
On our journey, not only will we uncover new facts about the American past, we will also catch indications of hidden fault lines in the social structure of the United States today. Some of these places are familiar to millions of Americans: Boston Common, Valley Forge, the Jefferson Memorial, Abraham Lincoln's log cabin, Sutter's Fort. Other entries in this book will visit places and tell stories that have not been memorialized grandly on the landscape. You will meet people whose existence you may never have imagined -- Elizabeth Van Lew, for instance, Robert and Mary Ann Lumpkin, Patty Cannon -- and perhaps learn some facts you never imagined about famous Americans you thought you knew well.
Some of these sites lie far off well-traveled tourist paths and never get into most travel guidebooks. Other markers or statues stand in oft-visited places, but unobtrusively, such as the plaques in the entry halls of state capitols. Although few writers have commented on most of these monuments and markers, they too make a difference because they represent the thousands of other historic sites all across America that help frame the way we talk about the past, yet have never drawn the attention of the historical profession.
These barely known but important sites bring up the critical distinction between what happened in the past versus what we say about it. The former is "the past," the latter "history." Ideally I believe the two should match. Some people do not agree. In 1925 the American Legion declared that American history, at least when taught to children, "must inspire the children with patriotism," "must be careful to tell the truth optimistically," and "must speak chiefly of success." Since the American past is littered with failures as well as successes and since the past cannot be changed, the Legion would have history lie or say little about the failures. So would a lot of other people. It follows that sites that are important but little known may have been left out of history because their stories would be unsettling to some Americans. Conversely, nothing much happened in actuality at some allegedly important sites -- Valley Forge for one -- but history has made a great to-do about them.
Some monuments and markers tell their stories complexly and accurately, so not every entry will be critical of its site. Sites are also depicted favorably, I'm sure, when their bias matches my own -- and my biases can be inferred from the list of heroes to whose memory this book is dedicated. I have chosen these sites to correct historical interpretations that seem profoundly wrong to me and to tell neglected but important stories about the American past. To be honest, I also included a few because they are funny.
Americans share a common history that unites us. But we also share some more difficult events -- a common history that divides us. These things too we must remember, for only then can we understand our divisions and work to reduce them. Markers and monuments could help, except too often they suffer from the same forces that created the divisions in the first place. Moreover, most historic sites don't just tell stories about the past; they also tell visitors what to think about the stories they tell. Many sites seek to transform our secular history -- events that actually happened on earth done by real people with the usual mix of admirable and despicable characteristics -- into hallowed milestones along the path of our sacred journey as a nation. But if a monument or marker misrepresents the past or tells it from only one viewpoint, then whatever moral imperative it suggests must be suspect. If we cannot face our history honestly, we cannot learn from the past.
Americans agree with this proposition when applied to other countries. We commend Germany for preserving concentration camps as monuments of remembrance. We commend the Russians for changing Leningrad back to St. Petersburg rather than continuing to honor a man whose political philosophy wreaked havoc on so many lives.7 We understand when South Africans, after dethroning white supremacy, set about reevaluating their statues and museum exhibits honoring white supremacists. Surely the United States -- like Germany, Russia, or South Africa -- needs to rethink its past and reassess how it commemorates that past in stone. Surely we don't want to be people of the lie, complicit with the worst in American history because we cannot stand to acknowledge it. The way we heal is to come face-to-face with the truth, and then we can better deal with it and each other.
Indeed this process is already underway. Throughout the book, entries will show how history as remembered in town squares and on highway waysides has changed over time. Even though monuments are written in stone, they are not permanent. Americans have forever been talking back to the landscape, whether by persuading a state to revise the wording on a historical marker or by vandalizing a statue. On the whole it is a healthy process. The history written on the American landscape was written by people after all, and we the people have the power to take back the landscape and make it ours.
When a site tells an inaccurate or incomplete story, challenging what our public history commemorates can make a difference in our public discourse. Indeed, questioning the myths as told on the American landscape is intrinsically subversive, since the interrogation itself diminishes their power to motivate human behavior, a power that depends on shared belief. Questioning the myths requires serious historical research. Often the viewpoint of the dominant faction not only rules the landscape but also permeates the history books. In the last thirty years, however, researchers have unearthed new voices from the past and allowed them to speak in their books and articles. Altering the landscape then involves expanding our public history by telling about the past from these "new" perspectives. In the process, new markers and monuments will establish new stories and extol new heroes -- factually based, with feet of clay when appropriate, but role models nonetheless. "American history is longer, larger, more various, more beautiful, and more terrible than anything anyone has ever said about it," wrote James Baldwin. The truth is also more wonderful and more terrible than the lies Americans have been telling themselves.
The next four essays provide some tools and provisions for our journey. "Some Functions of Public History" examines the roles that monuments, markers, and other historic sites play for individuals and our society. "The Sociology of Historic Sites" tells how historical markers get created in the first place and suggests that their local nature has both positive and negative implications for the history they relate. "Historic Sites Are Always a Tale of Two Eras" notes that every site can teach visitors not only about the event or person it commemorates but also something about the time of its erection or preservation. Therefore visitors must consider both eras when thinking about what the site says. "Hieratic Scale in Historic Monuments" discusses how the nonverbal symbolism on monuments and memorials influences how visitors think and feel about the topics they commemorate. Aided by these discussions and Appendix B, "Ten Questions to Ask at a Historic Site," readers will be better able to critique the next place they visit, even if it is not among the more than a hundred sites described here.
After our tour of lies across America, two final essays will provide some ideas on what to do about the biased texts, inappropriate names, and unfit statues we will have encountered. "Snowplow Revisionism" points out that even though history on the landscape looks permanent, revision constantly takes place. "Getting into a Dialogue with the Landscape" tells how Americans have been changing many sites already. Finally, Appendix C lists twenty candidates that deserve immediate removal or revision and suggests ways that Americans can make our markers, monuments, and historical sites tell a fuller more accurate history.
Copyright © 1999 by James W. Loewen
Table of Contents
Alphabetical Index of States xiii
Preface to the Second Edition 1
In What Ways Were We Warped? 2
Some Functions of Public History 13
The Sociology of Historic Sites 18
Hieratic Scale in Historic Monuments 25
Historic Sites Are Always a Tale of Two Eras 33
Public History After Charlottesville 41
The Far West
1 Alaska Denali (Mt. McKinley): The Tallest Mountain-The Silliest Naming 61
2 Hawaii Honolulu: King Kamehameha I, The Roman! 64
3 California Sacramento: The Flat Earth Myth on the West Coast 68
4 California Sacramento: Exploiting vs. Exterminating the Natives 73
5 California San Francisco: China Beach Leaves Out the Bad Parts 78
6 California Downieville: Killing a Man Is Not News 81
7 Oregon La Grande: Don't "Discover" 'Til You See the Eyes of the Whites! 85
8 Washington Cowlitz County: No Communists Here! 87
9 Washington Centralia: Using Nationalism to Redefine a Troublesome Statue 89
10 Nevada Hickison Summit: What We Know and What We Don't Know About Rock Art 93
11 Nevada Nye County: Don't Criticize Big Brother 95
The Mountains
12 Idaho Almo: Circle the Wagons, Boys-It's Tourist Season 101
13 Utah North of St. George: Bad Things Happen in the Passive Voice, but Now the Church Is Facing the Truth 105
14 Arizona Navajo Reservation: Calling Native Americans Bad Names 112
15 Montana Helena: No Confederate Dead? No Problem! Invent Them! 115
16 Wyoming South Pass City: A Woman Shoulda Done It! 121
17 Colorado Pagosa Springs: Tall Tales in the West 123
18 Colorado Leadville: Still Licking the Corporate Hand That Feeds You 125
19 New Mexico Alcalde: The Footloose Statue 131
The Great Plains
20 Oklahoma Oklahoma City. The Oklahoma State History Museum Confederate Room Told No History; Finally, They Closed It 135
21 Kansas Gardner. Which Came First: Wilderness or Civilization? 138
22 Nebraska Red Cloud: Lesbians Begin to Appear on the Landscape 139
23 South Dakota Brookings: American Indians Only Roved for About a Hundred Years 143
24 North Dakota Devils Lake: The Devil Is Winning, Six to One 146
The Midwest
25 Minnesota St. Paul: "Serving the Cause of Humanity" 149
26 Iowa Muscatine: Red Men Only-No Indians Allowed 157
27 Missouri Hannibal: Domesticating Mark Twain 161
28 Wisconsin Racine: Not the First Auto 164
29 Illinois Chicago: America's Most Toppled Monument 166
30 Indiana Graysville: Coming into Indiana Minus a Body Part 171
31 Indiana Indianapolis: The Invisible Empire Remains Invisible 174
32 Kentucky Lexington: Putting the He in Hero 177
33 Kentucky Hodgenville: Abraham Lincoln's Birthplace Cabin-Built Thirty Years After His Death! 180
34 Michigan Dearborn: Honoring a Segregationist No More? 184
35 Ohio Delaware: Who Menaced Whom? 188
The South
36 Texas Gainesville: "No Nation Rose So White and Fair; None Fell So Free of Crime" 193
37 Texas Alba: The Only Honest Sundown Town in the United States 199
38 Texas Pittsburg: It Never Got Off the Ground 202
39 Texas Fredericksburg: The Real War Will Never Get into the War Museums 204
40 Texas Galveston: This Building Used to BE a Hardware Store 211
41 Arkansas Little Rock: Men Make History; Women Make Wives 213
42 Louisiana Laplace: Suppressing a Slave Revolt for the Second Time 219
43 Louisiana Colfax: Mystifying the Colfax Riot and Lying About Reconstruction 222
44 Louisiana New Orleans: The White League Begins to Take a Beating 227
45 Louisiana Baton Rouge: The Toppled "Darky" 233
46 Louisiana Fort Jackson: Let Us Now Praise Famous Thieves 240
47 Mississippi Itta Bena: A Black College Celebrates White Racists 244
48 Alabama Calhoun County: If Russia Can Do It, Why Can't We? 250
49 Alabama Tuscumbia: Confining Helen Keller Under House Arrest 254
50 Alabama Scottsboro: Famous Everywhere but at Home 256
51 Tennessee Fort Pillow: Remember Fort Pillow! 261
52 Tennessee Woodbury: Forrest Rested Here 270
53 Georgia Stone Mountain: A Confederate-KKK Shrine Encounters Turbulence 275
54 Florida Near Cedar Key: The Missing Town of Rosewood 281
55 South Carolina Beech Island: The Beech Island Agricultural Club Was Hardly What the Marker Implies 283
56 South Carolina Fort Mill: To the Loyal Slaves 287
57 South Carolina Columbia: Who Burned Columbia? 294
58 North Carolina Bentonville Battlefield: The Last Major Confederate Offensive of the Civil War 303
59 Virginia Alexandria: The Invisible Slave Trade Now Becoming Visible 305
60 Virginia Alexandria: The Clash of the Martyrs 309
61 Virginia Richmond: "One of the Great Female Spies of All Times" 313
62 Virginia Richmond: Slavery and Redemption 318
63 Virginia Richmond: The Liberation of Richmond 321
64 Virginia Richmond: Abraham Lincoln Walks Through Richmond 327
65 Virginia Appomattox: Getting Even the Numbers Wrong 334
66 Virginia Stickleyville: A Sign of Good Breeding 338
The Atlantic States
67 West Virginia Union: Is California West of the Alleghenies? 343
68 District of Columbia Jefferson Memorial: Juxtaposing Quotations to Misrepresent a Founding Father 344
69 Maryland Hampton: "No History to Tell" 350
70 Delaware Reliance: The Reverse Underground Railroad 362
71 Pennsylvania Philadelphia: Telling Amusing Incidents for the Tourists 369
72 Pennsylvania Valley Forge: George Washington's Desperate Prayer 373
73 Pennsylvania Lancaster. "You're Here to See the House" 379
74 Pennsylvania Gettysburg: South Carolina Defines the Civil War in 1965 383
75 Pennsylvania Philadelphia: Remember the "Splendid Little War"-Forget the Tawdry Larger Wars 389
76 Pennsylvania Philadelphia: Celebrating Illegal Submarine Warfare 393
77 New Jersey Trenton: The Pilgrims and Religious Freedom 396
78 New York Manhattan: Making Native Americans Look Stupid 398
79 New York Alabama: Which George Washington? 402
80 New York North Elba: John Brown's Plaque Puts Blacks at the Bottom! 403
81 New York Manhattan: The Union League Club: Traitors to Their Own Cause 406
82 New York Manhattan: Selective Memory at USS Intrepid 416
New England
83 Connecticut Darien: Omitting the Town's Continuing Claim to Fame 421
84 Massachusetts Boston: The Problem of the Common 426
85 Massachusetts Amherst: Celebrating Genocide 429
86 Vermont Burlington: Shards of Minstrelsy on a Far-North Campus 433
87 New Hampshire Peterborough and Dublin: Local History Wars 437
88 New Hampshire Concord: "Effective Political Leader" 440
89 Rhode Island Block Island: "Settlement" Means Fewer People! 443
90 Rhode Island Warren and Barrington: Fighting Over the "Good Indian" 445
91 Maine Bar Harbor: At Last-An Accurate Marker 450
Getting into a Dialogue with the Landscape 451
Appendices
Appendix A Selecting the Sites 461
Appendix B Ten Questions to Ask at a Historic Site 465
Appendix C Twenty Candidates for "Toppling" 467
Index 477
What People are Saying About This
Carol Kammen, author of Undoing Local History
A marvelous review of America's past that will engage and delight the reader. Loewen exposes with humor and outrage the lies told by our public monuments. He is the high school history teacher we all should have had.
Thomas Connors, Professor of History, University of Northern Iowa
I would have thought it impossible for Loewen to write a book that I would find more interesting than Lies My Teacher Told Me, but he's managed to do so.
Robin W. Winks, Townsend Professor of History Yale
An astute, funny, yet very serious book…Lies Across America will make us think hard about how easily the public can be mislead by a group determined to get their view of history displayed on our road-sides.
Edwin C. Bears, former Chief Historian, National Park Service
A winner by any criteria: informative, stimulating, and challenging. Loewen's wry wit is a welcome bonus, too often missing in books of this character.
Ira Berlin, Professor of History, University of Maryland
A great book, a fun book, and an important book.
David Lowenthal, author of The Past is a Foreign Country and The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History
An exhilarating, irreverent, often hilarious romp across our commemorative landscape, deftly mixing a vivid reportage with caustic muckraking.
Related Subjects
Customer Reviews
Explore More Items
