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The first comprehensive study of Harry S. Truman as commander in chief, this is an important and highly relevant book, especially in view of the growing concern over the president's ability to wage war without the consent of either the Congress or the American people.

This first collection of the essays of the late T. Harry Williams brings together some of the best shorter works of a man who was, by any standard, one of the finest historians of our time. Spanning the range of Williams' interests, this volume contains essays on the Civil War, Reconstruction, the ear of the world wars, military affairs, the craft of the historian, and the careers of Abraham Lincoln, Huey Long, and Lyndon Johnson. Williams' reputation rests on such large-scale works as Lincoln and His Generals and the Pulitzer-Prize winning biography Huey Long--exhaustively researched studies, monumental in their scope and ambition. Providing Williams with the chance to let his gaze probe beyond the fixed borders of such works, the essay was a flexible medium in which he could freely pursue some of the ideas that grew out of his daily regimen of writing and reading. He used the essay to examine large themes that spanned many areas of his interests as well as specific incidents in the course of American history, to reach both a popular audience and his fellow historians, to test ideas for books in the planning stage, and to assess the works of his colleagues. Among the essays brought together in this volume are "That Strange Sad War," in which Williams examines the Civil War as the first truly, and tragically, modern war; "Abraham Lincoln: Pragmatic Democrat," which sees Lincoln as the supreme example in our history of the union of principle and pragmatism in politics; and "The Louisiana Unification Movement of 1873," which traces the short history of an ambitious attempt to bring about racial unity in Reconstruction Louisiana. In "Interlude: 1918-1939"--an essay published here for the first time--Williams analyzes the weakened state of American military preparedness before Franklin Roosevelt came into office and turned his attention to the growing threat of Hitler's Germany. In "The Macs and the Ikes: America's Two Military Traditions," Williams contrasts the opposing types of military leaders in American history--those generals in the mold of Dwight Eisenhower who follow orders and submit to the power of the president and Congress, and the more fractious generals such as Douglas Macarthur, who view the military as an aristocracy of courage and genius and bridle at the reigns of civilian authority. "Huey, Lyndon, and Southern Radicalism" traces the common political roots of two men Williams considered among the most successful "power artists" of the century. And in "Lyndon Johnson and the Art of Biography," Williams discusses his own plans to write a biography of Johnson and speaks of his unapologetic belief in a great-man theory of history.

Set in the twilight years of southern aristocracy, The Percys of Mississippi is a biography of a family in whose bloodline ran both a strong commitment to public service and an equally strong but more private dedication to literature. Following four generations of Percy family history, Lewis Baker chronicles the lives and public careers of Colonel William Alexander Percy, a planter and lawyer; his son LeRoy, a lawyer and United States Senator; LeRoy's son Will, a poet and lawyer; and Will's nephew and adopted son, the novelist Walker Percy. Known as the "gray eagle of the delta" for his piercing eyes and silver hair, Colonel Percy served as a Confederate officer in both the eastern and western campaigns of the Civil War. He returned home to practice law and manage the family's property, but he was soon drawn into the arena of state politics, where he fought vigorously to strengthen the Mississippi River levee system and to protect his district from the perils of Reconstruction. With Colonel Percy's death in 1888, LeRoy Percy inherited his father's law practice and his mantle of leadership in the community. LeRoy used his power as a United States Senator to continue his father's long quest for an adequate levee system; struggled to loosen the Ku Klux Klan's grip of fear on the delta; and campaigned tirelessly to discredit the divisive creed of the state's rising demagogue politicians. In the election of 1911, LeRoy Percy was defeated in his bid to be returned to the Senate, losing to the flamboyant demagogue James Kimble Vardaman, the "White Chief." It was a defeat echoed across the South throughout the dawning years of the twentieth century, as poorer whites rejected the moderate counsel of the planter class, their traditional leaders, and embraced the demagogues' fiery gospel of resentment. It was this troubling, altered South that LeRoy Percy bequeathed to his son William Alexander. Will Percy fought in World War I, taught for a time, and stood at his father's side throughout many of the battles to safeguard the delta from extremism. But Will's true calling was as a poet, and his lasting contribution to the delta would be in the form of a memorial to its past--his memoir Lanterns on the Levee. "During my day," he wrote Will Percy not long before his death, " I have witnessed the disintegration of that moral cohesion of the South which had given it its strength and its sons their singleness of purpose and simplicity." It would be left to Walker Percy to fully confont htis modern, disintegrated South; to seek in such works as The Moviegoer, The Last Gentleman, and The Second Coming the place of the Percy family's values in a world that has little use for aristocrats.

From contemporary newspapers, periodicals, memoirs, and diaries, this book fashions a fascinating story of a great actress and her contribution to the development of American repertory theatre during this vital period.

William Hoffman is a master storyteller, and Follow Me Home reveals him at his inimitable best. In these superbly crafted stories, he explores one of the most secret places of the human heart - the corner where we keep hidden the precious supply of whatever it is that lets us persist, and sometimes even triumph.

Chosen by Eleanor Copenhaver Anderson before her death in 1985 to publish her husband's secret love letters, Anderson scholar Ray Lewis White has prepared a fascinating edition of these unique letters for the enjoyment of students and scholars of literature as well as for all readers who savour compelling and inspiring stories of loss and love.

In 1920 Thomas Wolfe left the South with the strong desire to become a dramatist. To pursue his chosen craft, he enrolled in the Harvard 47 Workshop, at that time the most renowned in the nation. At first he wrote plays about Appalachian society and the Civil War. But it was not until Wolfe turned to the modern South--inspired by a disturbing return to his hometown of Asheville, North Carolina--that his genius awoke. There he found the material he would work into the best of his three full-length plays written at Harvard, the material that in the next decade would be recast into the novels that would make him famous. This is the first book publication of Welcome to Our City, Thomas Wolfe's play in ten scenes of a modern South ruled by liars and real estate agents, overrun with boosterism, and dedicated to greed. This sprawling, fiery work has lain dormant among Wolfe's papers for over fifty years, abandoned by its author after an unsuccessful attempt to revise and shorten it for a New York Theatre Guild production. For this edition, Richard S. Kennedy has reassembled a full performance text of the workshop version presented at Harvard in 1923--a production that involved forty-five cast members, including over thirty speaking parts, required seven stage changes, and lasted over three and a half hours in performance. The action of Welcome to Our City centers on a scheme of the town fathers and real estate promoters of Altamont, a small southern city, to snatch up all the property in a centrally located black district, evict the tenants, tear down their houses and shops, and build a new white residential section in its place. When the blacks, under the angry leadership of a strong-willed doctor, resist eviction, a race riot breaks out--shattering both the precarious social balance of the city and the "progressive" dreams of Altamont's boosters. Building on this plot, Wolfe guides his audience through the back rooms, stately homes, ans shanty towns of Altamont, contrasting tradition-bound southern characters with a new breed of life drawn from the vast menagerie of 1920s Main Street America: fact-spouting yes-men, hypocritical religious leaders, anti-intellectual professors, provincial country club matrons, and politicians inauthentic from their heads to their feet. Welcome to Our City is not merely an exhibit in the artistic development of a future novelist. Wolfe used the dramatic form inventively and with considerable inspiration to expose the culture of greed that he saw spreading around him and to caricature the men who, he feared, would usher in an age of mediocrity across America. Emotionally gripping and mockingly satiric, Welcome to Our City captures the festering social climate of the 1920s in a vision of life that is uncomfortably relevant to our own times.

Are we using the best system of values to examine the nation's political problems? Must we forsake idealism for realism? These are two questions that Kenneth Thompson systematically discusses in his penetrating examination of the role that values play in America's political relations with the other nations of the world.

Examines the interlocking careers and influence of six black clergymen, two of them fugitive slaves, who lived in the antebellum North and protested the racism of the time. The book is a biography of these six widely respected clergymen as well as an important discussion of Afro-American activism in the North before the Civil War.

Dominated by the personalities of three towering figures of the US's middle period - Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, and Andrew Jackson - Olive Branch and Sword tells of the political and rhetorical duelling that brought about the Compromise of 1833, resolving the crisis of the Union caused by South Carolina's nullification of the protective tariff.

Having lived behind the scenes during the Big Band era of the thirties and forties, Drew Page invites us to share that era with him. An instrumentalist or sideman, in many touring bands, he recounts friendships with now-famous as well as unknown musicians who made American dance music. Like them, Drew Page loved his music and the road.

With a few notable exceptions, historians have tended to ignore the role that science and medicine played in the antebellum American South. The fourteen essays in Science and Medicine in the Old South help to redress that neglect by considering scientific and medical developments in the early nineteenth-century South.

The Dreyfus Affair of the 1890s and the violent controversies that surrounded it appeared to pass two very different judgments on the France of the Third Republic. The outcome o the trial--Captain Dreyfus convicted without guilt and the real traitor acquitted despite guilt--demonstrated without question the extraordinary hypocrisy of the military justice system. But the furor raised by Dreyfus' conviction and the agitation for his release suggested that the injustice of the courts' verdict was uncharacteristic of French society; that for France as a nation the rendering of justice was paramount, even at the expense of disgracing both the military and a conspiring government. In The Hypocrisy of Justice in the Belle Epoque, Benjamin Martin examines the events of three sensational criminal cases to reveal that the willful mangling of justice that occurred in the Dreyfus trial was far from rare in the Third Republic France. He finds, in fact, that justice in the Belle Epoque was "hypocritical in the extreme," with the outcome of trials easily tainted by the power and influence of politics, money, and illicit sex. At times, justice deviated so far from the ideal that its goal was not the strict application of the law or even the discovery of the truth, but rather the imposition of a system of rewards and punishments meted out in accordance with a capricious vision of social utility. Martin begins with the case of Marguerite Steinheil, the wife of an artist of only middling talent. A strikingly beautiful woman, she presided over a famous salon and was the lover of influential politicians. When she was tried for the brutal murders of her husband and her mother, Marguerite defended herself with a flurry of extravagant stories and unlikely counter-accusations. Even so, she was found innocent of all charges, and the crimes were left unsolved. The second trial considered is that of Thérèse Humbert, a young woman who used an apparently innate talent for elaborate deception in rising from poverty to the upper reaches of Parisian society. With the aid of her husband and her brothers, Thérèse created a series of specious lawsuits over an illusory American legacy. Then, playing on the greed of dozens of investors, she skillfully manipulated the French courts to perpetrate a fraud that would last for twenty years, yield millions, and make her salon one of the most dazzling in Europe until the day when the ruse was finally found out. The third case is that of Henriette Caillaux, the wife of an important leader in the Radical party. She admitted shooting Gaston Calmette, the influential newspaper editor who had been carrying out a campaign of vilification against her husband. But when she was tried for the murder in 1914, Henriette was found innocent and allowed to go free. The sensational trials of Marguerit Steinheil, Thérèse Humbert, and Henriette Caillaux mirrored in many the stalemate society of the Belle Epoque itself. By examining the hypocrisy of justice in the Third Republic, Benjamin Martin uncovers the vast extent of that society's corruption, the amorality and sordidness that were cloaked only partially by the mantle of respectability.

Examines the work of post-Civil War southern writers who criticize the myth of the South as pastoral paradise. Sooner or later in all their idealized worlds, the idyllic vision fades in an inescapable moment of awakening. This moment, which is central to MacKethan's study, produces an atmosphere pastoral in mood and implications.

In the autumn of 1857, sustained runs on New York banks led to a panic atmosphere that affected the American economy for the next two years. In The Panic of 1857 and the Coming of the Civil War, James L. Huston presents an exhaustive analysis of the political, social and intellectual repercussions of the Panic and shows how it exacerbated the conflict between North and South.The panic of 1857 initiated a general inquiry between free traders and protectionists into the deficiencies of American economic practices. A key aspect of this debate was the ultimate fate of the American worker, an issue that was given added emphasis by a series of labor demonstrations and strikes. In an attempt to maintain the material welfare of laborers, northerners advocated a program of high tariffs, free western lands, and education. But these proposals elicited the opposition of southerners, who believed that such policies would not serve the needs of the slaves system. Indeed, many people of the period saw the struggle between North and South as an economic one whose outcome would determine whether laborers would be free and well paid or degraded and poor.Politically, the Panic of 1857 resurrected economic issues that had characterized the Whig-Democratic party system prior to the 1850s. Southerners, observing the collapse of northern banks, believed that they could continue to govern the nation by convincing northern propertied interests that sectionalism had to be ended in order to ensure the continued profitability of intersectional trade. In short, they hoped for a marriage between the Yankee capitalist and the southern plantation owner.However, in northen states, the Panic had made the Whig program of high tariffs, a national bank, and internal improvements popular with distressed members of the community. The country's old-line Whigs and nativists were particularly affected by the state of economic affairs. When Republicans moved to adopt a portion of the old Whig program, conservatives found the attraction irresistible. By maintaining their new coalition with conservatives and by exploiting the weaknesses of the Buchanan administration, the Republicans managed to capture the presidency in 1860.No other book examines in such detail the political ramifications of the Panic of 1857. By explaining how the economic depression influenced the course of sectional debate, Huston has made an important and much-needed contribution to Civil War historiography.

The urban growth of Virginia during the decade and a half before the Civil War has been an unjustly neglected subject in American history. With this authoritative book David Goldfield fills a long-standing gap in historical scholarship by providing much new information and a fresh perspective on urban development in the Old Dominion during the turbulent antebellum years. According to Goldfield's interpretation, the urbanization of Virginia was prompted, in part, by the response of the state's leaders to the sectionalism that increasingly influenced prewar southern ideas. Caught up in the intense competition for western trade and commerce, Virginia's urbanizers dreamed of railroads and canals flung across the continent and bringing the wealth of the West into the Old Dominion. To realize these heroic visions, the state's entrepreneurs planned railroad networks, invested in manufacturing, and sought to establish trade with Europe. Lynchburg and Petersburg became centers for tobacco manufacturing, the ports of Alexandria and Norfolk saw a resurgence of shipping activity, and Richmond developed flour-milling and iron-manufacturing industries. Local governments, labor systems, and the cities themselves expanded to accommodate urban growth, embracing the farmer as a partner in the urban economy. Finally, a distinct urban consciousness developed to provide an intellectual framework for the urbanization process. Despite the unprecedented growth of Virginia's cities, however, their dreams of economic independence remained unfulfilled. By 1861 the state was more economically dependent on its northern rivals than it had ever been before. As the state reluctantly seceded from the Union, the subject of urban economic growth elicited sharp debate at the secession convention. Urban Virginia would have to wait until the "New South" years to renew the dreams of economic independence.

I had just come from Mother's room early one morning and was sitting alone on the steps at the front of the building when Bill drove up in his little red station wagon. He approached me and, knowing that any change in Mother could only be for the worse, simply said. "Let's go in and see, Mother." We remained at her bedside for ten or fifteen minutes, then we went back outside and sat down together on the concrete steps. It was a clear fall day and people of the community were going placidly about their affairs; only Mother inside on the hospital bed was motionless, except for her breathing which seemed to become more labored with each passing day. Bill got out his pipe, slowly filled the bowl with the special tobacco which was blended for him in London, and fished a big kitchen match from a pocket of his ancient hunting jacket. Then, with unlit pipe in one hand and unstruck match in the other, he gazed out at the unhurried traffic anti asked me what my thoughts were on the hereafter. I carefully explained them as best I could, and when I had finished he struck the match on the concrete and applied the swelling flame to his pipe. It didn't catch very well, and I remember he took the pipe from his mouth anti gently tapped the bowl on the step: then. brazing again across the now empty street, he said. "Maybe each of us will become some sort of radio wave."

A decade and more has passed since the first publication of Still Rebels, Still Yankees. During that time the book has become recognised as a classic affirmation of the necessity of tradition in conserving cultural order.

The past isn't dead. It isn't even the past," William Faulker wrote.The Southern Reporter constitutes a report on the collisions between a present that cannot find its voice and a past that reaches out incessantly into the lives of contemporary men and women.An old Louisiana lawyer finds himself in California seeking a missing heir who is a physicist, musician, doctor, theologian-and a leader of a crazed and murderous santanistic cult.A childless retired couple prepares treats for Halloween's children-only to find that the "children" have taken on the character of their terrifying costumes.An elderly lawyer, dying of cancer, is forced to recall an even greater pain and finds his own kind of salvation in the remembrance of love.A court reporter, who has spent his life recording the crimes and affairs of others, at last cannot stand the flood of evil and visits his own justice on a man the jury has found innocent of rape.A young boy is caught between his high-spirited, hell-raising uncle and the deadly civilizing force of his mother.The Southern Reporter penetrates the façade of contemporary life, looking for its roots in the past -- not simply the past of its people but the looming imaginary structure of western history, against which all of us lead our lives -- and die our deaths. The search for images of order and the loss of them constitute the meaning of The Southern Reporter.

The New Orleans writer Grace King was an intensely loyal daughter of the South. Fostered by bitter memories of the Civil War, her loyalty was kept burning by her family's struggle to regain its wealth and maintain its social position. In this volume, Robert Bush discusses King's life and her art.

Over the years, the phrase "southern oratory" has become laden with myth; its mere invocation conjures up powerful images of grandiloquent antebellum patriarchs, enthusiastic New South hucksters, and raving wild-eyed demagogue politicians. In these essays, Waldo Braden strips away the myths to expose how the South's orators achieved their rhetorical effects and manipulated their audiences. The Oral Tradition in the South begins with two essays that trace the roots of the South's particular identification with oratory. In "The Emergence of the Concept of Southern Oratory, 1850-1950," Braden suggests that it was through the influence of southern scholars that southern oratory gained its renown. The second essay, "The Oral Tradition in the Old South," focuses on antebellum times to reveal the several factors that combined to make the region a fertile ground for oratory. Braden further explores the antebellum oratorical tradition in "The 1860 Election Campaign in Western Tennessee," analyzing speeches made in Memphis by such national figures as William L. Yancey, Andrew Johnson, and Stephen A. Douglas, and revealing the nature of political canvassing in that era. Shifting his discussion to the years that followed the Civil War, Braden examines. in "Myths in a Rhetorical Context," how such speakers as General John B. Gordon and Henry Grady worked to restore the shattered self-esteem of the region by spinning myths of the Old South and the Lost Cause and by proclaiming the hopeful era of the New South. The fifth essay, "The Rhetoric of Exploitation," probes the rhetorical strategies of the demagogue politicians of the twentieth century-strategies such as "plain folks" appeals and race-baiting. In the final essay, "The Rhetoric of a Closed Society." Braden analyzes the movement opposing racial integration in Mississippi. Showing how the White Citizens' Council, Governor Ross Barnett, and other leaders manipulated the public to make the state a closed society from 1954 to 1964. Although he takes pains to establish the historical context in each of these essays, Braden's emphasis as a rhetorical critic is always on the speeches themselves. He pays close attention to the kinds of appeals found in the words of the speeches and to the individual speaker's use of images and phrases to evoke particular myths. But Braden looks beyond the texts of the speeches to take into account the full context of the event. "What the reader finds in the printed version of the text," he explains, "might be only a small part of the myth, a tiny hint of what grinds inside frustrated listeners. Sometimes the trigger for the myth does not even appear in the printed version, because face-to-face the listeners and the speaker, feeling a oneness, evoke the myth without verbal expression." To account for this nonverbal dimension of oratory, these essays assess the impact of the location and atmosphere of the gathering, the audience's expectations, and the speaker's use of ritual, symbolic gestures, and props. During the nearly forty years of his career, Waldo Braden has been a pioneer in the serious study of oratory. A landmark work, The Oral Tradition in the South is the capstone to a distinguished career, a comprehensive and authoritative study of the subject Braden has so innovatively researched.

Offers a concise historical survey of the methods by which the United States government has sought to organise military forces from the days of the Revolutionary War to the Atomic Age. T. Harry Williams demonstrates that the American genius - even the genius for making mistakes - has found full expression in the systems which have been formulated.

When she was forty-four years old, Rose Hawthorne Lathrop left her comfortable home in New London, Connecticut, and soon thereafter took an apartment on Manhattan's Lower East Side. She ran a newspaper ad inviting indigents dying of cancer to come live with her to be cared for until their death. The journey that led this daughter of one of America's most prominent literary figures to that Lower East Side tenement is the subject of this fascinating and far-reaching biography by Patricia Dunlavy Valenti. Rose was born in 1851, the youngest child of Nathaniel and Sophia Hawthorne. As an adult, she reflected upon a childhood that "made me seem to myself a stranger who had come too late." Indeed, throughout much of her life, Rose found her own sense of identity subsumed by the demands and needs of those closest to her. She was overshadowed not only by her famous father but also by her brother, Julian, who achieved a modest degree of literary fame in his own right, and by her sister, Una, whose fragile health was a constant source of concern to her family. In 1871, Rose married George Parsons Lathrop, who would become a writer and an editor of her father's works. Rose herself had begun to write fiction and poetry at an early age, and after the death of their only child in 1881, she saw the publication of much of her work. Valenti reads these stories and poems with a biographer's eye and finds them filled with clues pointing to the remarkable transformation that would allow their author to transcend Victorian constraints and claim the kind of life that would realize her singular gifts. Particularly illuminating are the works Rose completed during the years in which she was making a break from her husband, whom she left in 1896. After her final separation from her husband, Rose, who had converted to Roman Catholicism in 1891, devoted the remainder of her life to the work carried on to this day by the order of nuns she founded, the Servants of Relief for Incurable Cancer. The account of her ministry, begun when cancer was thought contagious, should establish Rose Hawthorne Lathrop as a visionary in her belief that everyone has a right to die with dignity and as a pioneer in her advocacy of compassionate methods of caring for those near death. Valenti's well-written and thoroughly researched biography will interest a wide audience, from those who would enjoy a lively glimpse of the Hawthorne household to those concerned with the documenting of women's contributions to society.

In these fourteen beautifully crafted stories David Slavitt shows his mastery of the form. Elegant, spare, sometimes funny, sometimes elegiac, this collection reflects a writer in admirable control of his craft.

Opens up the feminist critical project by showing that author gender has no bearing on the creation of feminine-structured narrative. Moreover, by exposing a considerable "female consciousness" in the major fictional works of Robert Penn Warren, it departs dramatically from previous criticism of Warren.

One of America's more perceptive younger critics, Louis Rubin is well known for his commentaries on the literature of the South. These essays - selected from his critical works over a period of more than a dozen years - reflect his wider concern with the whole spectrum of American literature.

David Boyd's biography is the story of one man's dedicated struggle to protect and preserve Louisiana's fledgling state university from the cumulative effects of war, Reconstruction, political hostility, and parochial greed. Boyd fought hard to promote his vision of higher education among a largely antagonistic or apathetic citizenry.

Recent interest in the life and works of John Crowe Ransom has brought to light the many apparent contradictions and discontinuities in the career of this important man of letters. In John Crowe Ransom's Secular Faith, Keiran Quinlan offers a substantially revisionist interpretation of his subject.

Focuses on four representative poets - Louise Bogan, Maxine Kumin, Denise Levertov, and Adrienne Rich - to explore the ways in which women writers' treatment of isolation extends our perception of women's experience and our understanding of the alienated human sensibility.

Offers the first full-scale biography of a man of meager education and limited political experience who worked his way from the North Georgia mountains to the positions of governor and US senator. Drawing on previously unavailable documents, Parks captures the mood of Georgia as well as the personality of this astute and controversial politician.