Monthly Archives: November 2015

William B. Moulton (1811-1894), Sarah Neal (Chase) Moulton (1815-1881) and family, Dorchester, MA

 

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Posted above as a downloadable Word document is an article about the Moulton ancestry of my maternal grandmother Esther Moulton (Whittredge) Smith (1886-1970). She was the daughter of James Flint Whittredge (1856-1938) and Camelia Anna (Moulton) Whittredge (1858-1920).

The article briefly discusses my grandmother’s parents, Camelia and James, and Camelia’s parents, William B. Moulton (1811-1894) and Sarah Neal (Chase) Moulton (1815-1881) of Dorchester, Mass.


— Roger Whittredge Smith

   November 2015

Roger W. Smith, review of “Theodore Dreiser’s “Dawn — The Formation of a Mind: An Autobiographical Representation,” by Nadja Firner

 

Theodore Dreiser’s “Dawn” — The Formation of a Mind: An Autobiographical Representation, by Nadja Firner. Saarbrücken, Germany: VDM Verlag Dr. Müller Aktiengesellschaft & Co. KG, 2008. 126 pp. Paper, $92.00.

In my opinion, which I think would be shared by many Dreiserians, the two autobiographical works of Theodore Dreiser, A Book About Myself (1922) and Dawn (1931), should be ranked very high among American autobiographies. In view of this, it is surprising that Dreiser’s two autobiographical books (which he envisioned as part of a four-volume autobiography that was never finished) are not better known.

I think that A Book About Myself (later published as Newspaper Days) is actually the better written of the two books. It seems to have a tighter focus and to exhibit less of Dreiser’s tiresome philosophizing than does the later work, Dawn. But Dawn can stand on its own as a compelling work and as an invaluable narrative of Dreiser’s youth.

Hence my excitement when I saw that this book by Nadja Firner had been published and jumped to the conclusion that it was a study of Dawn (which, as is explained below, it is not, quite) and thus, by implication, of Dreiser’s autobiographical oeuvre. That I did so was not incomprehensible given that the publicity material for the book, found on Amazon.com and on the back cover of the book, states that the book “studies Theodore Dreiser’s autobiography of youth.” This statement would seem to indicate that it is a study of Dawn. While Dawn does receive consideration, it is more exact to say that this is a book about the “dawning” of Dreiser’s consciousness and the development of his worldview over his lifetime. (A Book About Myself, incidentally, does not receive consideration.) But the subject of the book is still not clear to me after struggling to complete Firner’s study, and this indicates that there are serious flaws in the book’s conception and construction. The content – or perhaps I should say the context in which the content is embedded – of this study is often out of focus.

Firner considers the major works of Dreiser and references much Dreiser scholarship (notably by Elias, Lehan, Lingeman, Lundén, Mathiessen, Mukherjee, Swanberg, Warren, Wirth-Nesher, and Zanine), but while at times provocative and compelling points are made, a direct, seemingly inevitable consequence of such broad coverage is that it is superficial.

I once took a copyediting course in which the instructor made a point about why attention to detail on the part of editors and copyeditors is essential: Sloppiness in editing and production tends to decrease the reader’s overall confidence in a nonfiction book’s accuracy. Firner’s study appears to have been written by a non-native speaker of English; it may be a translation (and a very awkward one at that) from a manuscript in German. It is written in prose that very often does not conform to standard English usage even by relaxed standards; it is plagued with awkward wording, errors in tense and syntax and typographical errors; and it’s a very tough read. There are also annoying inconsistencies in the treatment, say, of items like young Dreiser’s name (Theo vs. Theodore). It is incredible that this book has been published as is.

The first chapter of this book illustrates what is wrong with the whole work, structurally and focus-wise. Instead of focusing on Dreiser, the chapter provides a broad (very broad, in fact overly general) overview of American society during the Gilded Age. It contains sections entitled “America’s new industrial workers,” “The new managerial class,” “The Labor Movement,” and so on in which statements such as the following are made:

In the 1890s, Coney Island was transformed into the site of some of the largest and most elaborate amusement parks in the country. Its popularity signaled the rise of mass entertainment, making the New York amusement park the unofficial capital of a new mass culture. (pg. 23)

The reader must infer what the relevance to Dreiser (if any) is. It is anyone’s guess.

In her concluding chapter, Firner makes the point that Dreiser’s writing life can be divided into distinct phases: “the yearner and dreamer in a despairingly rough reality” (seen in Dreiser’s portrayals of himself in Dawn and of Carrie Meeber in Sister Carrie); the social Darwinian; a stage in which Dreiser’s outlook became more mystical and “antithetical to the amoral objectivity of a conventionally conceived naturalist”; and a final stage where he managed to reconcile his more romantic or mystical views with a scientific and materialistic outlook. (I am not sure that I have correctly identified the phases here. Firner states that there were three phases, then seems to identify four.) These phases are treated at various points in the exposition, but if they are construed as controlling or organizing themes, then the book can be said to often wander into other territory.

The book is divided into chapters on young Dreiser’s America (already noted), his family and the immigrant experience (in which Dawn gets attention), the importance of the city in Dreiser’s development (in which both Dawn and Sister Carrie are the main focus), Dreiser’s use of symbols (in which several of the novels are scrutinized), major influences on Dreiser from Spencer to Balzac, themes in his work such as the ideal of beauty, and so on. Some of this is quite interesting, or at least potentially so, but it is all too much to cover — the book’s content does not cohere.

Many of Firner’s observations about Dreiser are derivative, which is not in itself a criticism. She clearly acknowledges indebtedness to sources and in fact uses them skillfully. She does make a lot of interesting points of her own, such as that Dreiser suffered from a “poverty complex” not unlike his father’s obsession with religion (38), that “there is hardly anyone to imagine who was more repressive, a sometimes more enthusiastic ‘believer’ and in some respects more fanatic than” Dreiser, whose beliefs about class conflict, for example, were founded, ironically, in opposition to his father’s rigidity and orthodoxy (43); that if Dreiser was in his youth impressed by Horatio Alger-like rags to riches stories, he was not in his later years blinded by them (60); that Dreiser “carried the American business novel into previously unexamined territory by suggesting that the synthesis of commercial success and conventional moral precepts were [sic] possible but by no means necessary” (60); that Dreiser gradually moved away “from the sense of social misery as individual fate to escape from by no matter what means in order to ‘rise’ in society, to the sense of social misery as a collective problem to be solved by political and fair means” (65); that illusion and reality in Dreiser’s view “existed in mutual dependence in that one was unthinkable without the other” (72); that “Dreiser was not merely a documentary social realist, but rather a profound observer of the underlying myths and emotional realities of the American experience” (117); that Dreiser’s philosophy was built more on intuition and faith than on logic and reason (117).

The problem with this study is the way such points are developed, haphazardly and sloppily, which is unfortunate, since the author evinces insightfulness and a clear enthusiasm for her subject. She needed an editor’s help. I would not recommend this book, leaving aide consideration of its exorbitant price.

— posted by Roger W. Smith

    November 2015

Roger W. Smith, review of “The Ox-Bow Man: A Biography of Walter Van Tilburg Clark,” by Jackson J. Benson

 

The Ox-Bow Man: A Biography of Walter Van Tilburg Clark

by Jackson J. Benson

University of Nevada Press, 426 pages, $34.95

reviewed by Roger W. Smith

 

A biography of Walter Van Tilburg Clark, whose beloved home state of Nevada is the setting for all of his major works, is very welcome at this time. Clark’s short story collection, “The Watchful Gods and Other Stories,” has been republished by the University of Nevada Press to coincide with the publication of this biography. Two of his lesser-known novels, “The City of Trembling Leaves” and “The Track of the Cat: A Novel,” are available in reprint editions. And, Clark will, of course, always be remembered as the author of his austere and finely crafted Western novel, “The Ox-Bow Incident,” and the critically acclaimed 1943 film based on the book, as the title of this book indicates.

Clark has a secure place among the ranks of Western writers — he was admired by contemporaries such as Wallace Stegner whose critical opinion counts — and while he is not quite in fashion today, he has never been entirely out of fashion.

The author of biographies of John Steinbeck and Stegner, Jackson Benson brings a reporter’s doggedness, a writer’s sensibilities and intimate knowledge of Clark’s Nevada to the task of writing this long-overdue biography. He seems to have interviewed everyone who ever knew Clark; has had the invaluable cooperation of Clark’s son, Robert, and his daughter, Barbara; has made excellent use of letters and unpublished manuscripts in the author’s papers at the University of Nevada to reconstruct events in his life and career; and provides an impressive amount of biographical detail that is not dull or cloying from the reader’s perspective.

Mr. Benson develops a rounded picture of Clark the man and the writer by viewing him from many different angles: the son of a prominent academic (his father, Walter Ernest Clark, was president of the University of Nevada from 1917-1938), avid tennis player, chess enthusiast, devoted husband and father, high school English teacher and athletic coach during the 1930s and ‘40s and, after he had become a successful writer, itinerant college professor in various writing programs.

We learn that Clark greatly admired California poet Robinson Jeffers, who was an important early influence; was thoroughly steeped in Arthurian legend (which provided the basis for a unique master’s thesis in the form of a narrative poem he completed at the University of Nevada; he earned a second master’s at the University of Vermont with a thesis on Jeffers); had an important and enduring friendship (described in his Kunstlerroman “The City of Trembling Leaves”) with Nevada painter Robert Caples; wrote unpublished poetry throughout his lifetime; and believed in writing swiftly without much retooling. He felt that if a story didn’t come naturally, it wasn’t worth persisting.

Clark died of cancer in 1971 at the age of 62. He was blocked and frustrated and stopped publishing altogether after the publication of his last major work, the above-mentioned collection of short stories, in 1950. The problem of why his creative output declined in middle age — a conflict between the demands of teaching and writing seems to have been a major cause, his self-imposed critical standards another — is one that Mr. Benson examines at length and with sensitivity.

It is hard to imagine this biography being surpassed in the foreseeable future. It’s an affecting, at times sad, but always edifying story. It sheds light on the tugs, pulls and challenges that the writing life and avocation can present in practical terms and on the difficulty of maintaining one’s integrity and creative output in the face of such challenges.

Mr. Smith is a freelance writer and editor based in Maspeth, Queens.

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   November 2015

Roger W. Smith, review of “Hetty: The Madness of America’s First Female Tycoon,” by Charles Slack

 

By ROGER W. SMITH

Hetty: The Genius and Madness of America’s First Female Tycoon

by Charles Slack

Ecco, 272 pages, $25.95

 

Henrietta Howland (Robinson) Green was, at the time of her death in 1916, believed to be the wealthiest woman in America. She left an estate valued at $100-200 million and ranks roughly in the top third (a few places behind Bill Gates and slightly ahead of Warren Buffet) on a list of the one hundred wealthiest Americans. She is the only woman on the list.

Her shabby black attire and strange off-putting ways earned her the sobriquet “the witch of Wall Street” and a reputation both in her own day and ever since as the quintessential miser. For years she maintained an unofficial office at the Chemical National Bank at 270 Broadway to which she commuted from a cheap apartment in Hoboken when she could have lived luxuriously among the rich.

There is, Charles Slack acknowledges in this well researched and written biography, at least a grain of truth in most of the unflattering tales and legends about Hetty. But Mr. Slack digs deeper and tries to distinguish between the truth and fiction in them. He does a good job of assessing Hetty Green as she really was: course, unpretentious, sometimes mean and vindictive to business rivals, not callous (as was often alleged) but caring and nurturing as a parent, and quite attractive in her younger years.

Regarding Hetty’s supposed unhappiness and loneliness, the common belief that she was filthy rich but had an unfulfilling life (she lived separately from her businessman husband for many years but remained on good terms with him), he points out, perceptively, that “independence was her pride and strength” — in other words, much of what put people off about her was her way of maintaining a sense of selfhood. He notes that her business judgment and timing were brilliant and her financial maxims sound: “buy cheap and sell dearly,” “never speculate on Wall Street,” and, above all, don’t panic when others do.

Mr. Slack does not dwell, wisely (since it has been thoroughly covered elsewhere), on a central event in Hetty’s story, the famous Howland Will Case, involving the estate of her aunt Sylvia Ann Howland, which Hetty in effect lost and in which she came off badly (having, it would seem, committed forgery). He does, however, make excellent use of court transcripts to throw light on her selfishness and manipulative behavior as attested to by members of her aunt’s household who testified against her.

The use of chapter “source notes” rather than footnotes, which was probably done to save space, makes it hard to verify where much of the material, including quotations attributed to Hetty and various detractors, comes from. Is this a new trend in nonfiction book publishing? One hopes not.

One gets the feeling that the publisher had a fixed page length in mind for this book. A longer book would have given the author a chance to spend more time straightening out the tangled strands of Hetty’s life (just keeping up with her peripatetic life trajectory is a daunting task for the biographer) and to give more weight to events and observations that he has been forced to treat less than fully at times. I think that would have made Hetty’s importance as a biographical subject clearer to the reader. This book does provide valuable insights into the reasons behind Hetty’s financial success, something prior biographies have not done as well.

Mr. Smith is a freelance writer and editor based in Maspeth, Queens who last wrote for these pages about Walt Whitman.

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   November 2015

Massachusetts Macombers — chiefly, Elisha of Dartmouth and New Bedford, and family

 

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Macomber notes

Elisha Macomber farm advertisement

“Farm at Auction,” New Bedford Mercury, New Bedford, Mass., March 12, 1819

 

Posted here (above) as downloadable Word documents are a genealogical article about Elisha Macomber (ca. 1775-1855) of Dartmouth and New Bedford, Mass., as well as my notes about the Macomber family. My maternal grandmother was descended from Elisha Macomber.

The genealogical details are sketchy; the article contains a few facts which I was able to unearth. The genealogical notes were compiled while researching my Macomber ancestors from Southeastern Massachusetts. Most of them were in New Bedford, MA, with the period I was focusing upon being the nineteenth century.

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   May 2018

Edward Marshall Hart (1853-1907) and Elizabeth Frances (Hewins) Hart (1859-1925)

 

Below is a downloadable Word document comprising a genealogical report about Edward Marshall Hart (1853-1907), his wife Elizabeth Frances (Hewins) Hart (1859-1925), and their family. They were my mother’s maternal grandparents.

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   November 2015

 

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John Congdon Hart (1829-1883) of New Bedford, MA

 

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Posted above as a Word document is a genealogical report about Civil War veteran John Congdon Hart (1829-1883) of New Bedford, Mass., my mother’s great-grandmother on her mother’s side.

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   November 2015

Capt. Gamaliel Hart (ca. 1792-1834)

 

Posted below as a downloadable Word document is an article about Capt. Gamaliel Hart (ca. 1792-1834) of New Bedford, Mass. (died New York City), who was an ancestor of my maternal grandmother.

 

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— posted by Roger W. Smith

   November 2015

Henry Thomas Handy (1845-1916) of Cataumet, MA

 

 

 

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Posted below as a downloadable Word document is an article about my mother’s paternal grandfather Henry Thomas Handy (1845-1916).

 

— posted  by Roger W. Smith

   November 2015

 

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Richard Handy (d. 1719) of Sandwich, MA

 

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Posted above as a downloadable Word document is an article about my mother, Elinor Congdon (Handy) Smith’s ancestor Richard Handy (d. 1719) of Sandwich, Mass.

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   November 2015