Each week, The Extraordinary Times catches up with folks from the local historical community. This week, we catch up with history teacher, docent (Historic Hamilton Log House), and friend of the Michael J. Colligan History Project, Chris Maraschiello. Chris was born and raised in Amherst, New York, north of Buffalo. He received his B.A. and M.A. in History at Miami University. His thesis on Miami University Vice-President Wallace P. Roudebush was published by Miami University in 1993. He earned MAT in Social Studies Education from Miami in 1994, and an MEd from Miami in 2000. He has taught history in Hamilton since 1994. Chris was recognized as Ohio Middle School History teacher of the year (2010), and awarded the Jim Blount History Educator Award that same year. He is a Hamilton Civil Service Commissioner, serves on Queen of Peace Church parish council, and is the New London Hills Pool and Tennis Club Secretary.
* Tell our readers a little about the work of Historic Hamilton Inc. Historic Hamilton Inc. is the umbrella organization serving the historic districts of Hamilton, Ohio. Projects include the Log House restoration, Crawford House restoration, Historic Farmers Market, and refurbishing the gravesite of Captain John Cleves Symmes and Symmes Park. * What local historic attractions would you most encourage folks to visit this summer? The Historic Log House; Soldiers and Sailors Monument; Butler County Historical Society; Miami University Campus, especially the Freedom Summer Memorial. [See also, Journal-News article: “Hamilton’s Early-1800s Log Cabin, Other Attractions Reopening to the Public”] * Which teachers most shaped your appreciation and love of history? I was very lucky to have great history teachers both in secondary school in Amherst, New York, and at Miami University. Those that stood out include David Kinnin, Paul Wedig, Dr. Truman Beckley Brown in Amherst, and Dr. Phillip Shriver, Dr. Thomas Coakley, Dr. Jay Baird, and Dr. Richard Jellison at Miami. Through Dr. Shriver, I connected with Jim Blount. Jim was not only a veteran teacher but also a journalist [Chris originally team-taught for Jim in Hamilton City Schools, and eventually took his place in the classroom when the latter retired in 1994]. I was very fortunate to have both Dr. Shriver and Jim as my mentors, and like to brag about my impeccable Ohio history pedigree! * How has this pandemic affected your understanding of history? Underscores the usefulness of history by examining past pandemics (for example, cholera and the 1918-1919 Spanish Flu), to understand the causes, course, and consequences of such events. * How are Hamilton City Schools preparing to return to class this fall? That is the great unknown. * How are you spending your time this summer? Running the historic log house, working at the Hamilton Central YMCA, and the Booker T. Washington Center. Lots of reading. Currently, The Earth is Weeping: The Epic Story of the Indian Wars for the American West by Peter Cozzens; Stamped from the Beginning and How to Be an Antiracist, both by Ibrim X. Kendi.
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Today is the 155th anniversary of a milestone in the history of American freedom. On June 19th, 1865, United States Major General Gordon Granger read federal orders from his headquarters in Galveston, Texas proclaiming the emancipation of all enslaved people in the Lone Star State. Coming more than two years after Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation formally outlawed slavery in the Confederacy, the Texas declaration was nevertheless significant, liberating the largest and westernmost rebellious state at the end of the Civil War. African Americans soon celebrated Juneteenth throughout Texas, and then more widely throughout the South. Beginning in the Civil Rights Era of the 1960s and 1970s, Juneteenth was broadly observed across the nation as a whole. Juneteenth is now a recognized state holiday or special day of observance in most states, Hawaii, North Dakota, and South Dakota being notable exceptions. Juneteenth even has its own celebratory flag (pictured above). At this time of protest and reckoning in the nation, calls to make Juneteenth a federal holiday have grown. Major private companies including Nike and Twitter recently moved to acknowledge Juneteenth. Just this week, Miami University’s President announced that the school will close on Friday, June 19th to honor and commemorate the occasion.
Recognition of Juneteenth vindicates the words on the Great Seal of the United States--E Pluribus Unum: “Out of One, Many,”—but the spectacle of bloodshed on American streets points in a more troubling direction. In the wake of George Floyd’s killing, now is as good a time as ever to discuss the origins of this Latin motto. Most Americans recall what E Pluribus Unum means, but few can say where it came from. Those who remember its history—such as the black novelist Ralph Ellison (1914-1994)—have often found its meaning ironic. E Pluribus Unum was invoked as the “prayer and promise” of the nation in the early pages of Juneteenth, Ellison’s sprawling allegorical novel which harked back to the jubilee of the same name. Discomfortingly, Ellison placed this invocation on the lips of Adam Sunraider, a white supremacist Senator whose come-uppance reveals the onion-like layers of black history and memory at the heart of the book. (Ellison’s masterpiece, unfinished at the time of his death, was edited and published in 1999 by his literary executor, who trimmed its 2,000-page reflection on race in America down to just 368.) The real-life origin of E Pluribus Unum is no less strange than Juneteenth’s fictional setting. Adopted as part of the Great Seal in 1782, the words served as the unofficial motto of the United States until 1956 (when Congress officially adopted “In God We Trust”) and still grace our currency. Its thirteen letters stand for the thirteen founding states of the Union. All thirteen states legally recognized slavery during the War of Independence, although revolutionary ideals inspired gradual steps towards abolition in several of them, beginning with Pennsylvania in 1780. The roots of E Pluribus Unum were of course classical, as familiar to most Founding Fathers as they were alien to most slaves. A Latin translation of the Greek thinker Heraclitus (a philosopher renowned for his obscurity even in antiquity) declared: “The one is made up of all things, and all things issue from the one.” This fragment later resurfaced in a strange Roman poem entitled Moretum, or “The Salad.” Of unknown authorship but traditionally attributed to Virgil (70 BC-19 BC), the poem evokes a rustic simplicity, as its narrator stirs from sleep, inspects his farm, and prepares the humble breakfast identified in the title. Like the United States, Rome was a slave-owning society. Romans enslaved people of all races and ethnicities, but the farmer’s housekeeper Scybale is unmistakably black (in addition to being identified as African, her physical description leaves no doubt). The poem is also remarkable for containing a recipe for Roman salad—closer to modern pesto, with soft cheese, herbs, salt, and garlic pounded in a mortar. Like the modern American melting pot, Moretum’s salad is metaphorical, revealing hidden meanings that would not have been lost on Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, and others. As the farmer’s hands move round and round the mixing bowl, “they one by one do lose/ Their proper powers, and out of many comes/ A single color” [italics added]. This last phrase in the original was “color est e pluribus unum,” from which America draws its famous motto, minus any reference to color. Whether such editing was purely symbolic, keeping thirteen letters to represent the states, or whether it points towards a blindness at the heart of American democracy, the omission is striking. Each week The Extraordinary Times catches up with leading figures from the historical and cultural scene. This week it was my pleasure to get to know Frank Villella, Director of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra Association’s Rosenthal Archives. A proud Miami graduate and native of Franklin, Ohio, Frank oversees collections documenting the activities of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Chicago Symphony Chorus, and Civic Orchestra of Chicago, along with events at Orchestra Hall and Symphony Center. Frank has co-produced several compilations of archival sound recordings, written for the CSO’s program book and syndicated radio broadcasts, and contributed research to Sir Georg Solti’s Memoirs and biographies of Jacqueline du Pré, Isaac Stern, Bruno Walter, and Carlo Maria Giulini. He is the author of Chicago Symphony Orchestra: 125 Moments and the From the Archives blog, and he has written program notes for the DePaul University School of Music, GIA Publications, the Juilliard School, and the Decca and RCA Red Seal record labels.
* How have you been keeping busy during the pandemic? Ever since the stay-at-home order began in mid-March, I’ve been working from home, which has been a challenge. The very nature of my job is working with a substantial archival collection (only partially digitized), and not having immediate access to all of it is quite limiting. Luckily, most of what I’ve been doing is contingency planning and programming two new radio series, involving our digitized audio collections. However, most everything seems to take more time, especially communicating with colleagues with multiple daily conference calls and countless emails. So, it feels like we’re not only working harder, we’re also working longer. With little on the social calendar and so much extra time at home, I’ve cleaned and re-ordered all of the bookshelves, kitchen cabinets, and closets; cleaned out the garage and basement; organized the sock drawer; repotted numerous houseplants; etc. We are lucky to have a backyard and garden, so I’ve also been able to give extra attention to a bunch of vegetables, herbs, and flowers. It might sound corny, but the time spent out in the garden has certainly been therapeutic. My husband Eddie works in IT for a medical equipment company, so he is considered an essential worker and commutes daily to the suburbs. So, I’ve also had a chance to do more cooking, which I (thankfully) enjoy. And I also have the constant companionship of our beagle Luna. * What was your childhood exposure to music? How did that experience shape your life? In our house growing up, the radio or stereo was always on. My father was an amateur singer, so the music was almost always with vocals: Frank Sinatra, Connie Francis, Johnny Mathis, Ella Fitzgerald, Mario Lanza, original cast recordings of Broadway shows, and movie musical soundtracks. My parents also subscribed to the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, so live music was also in the mix. I always remember singing at home, in church, at school. My first solo performance was in a talent show when I was about seven, singing “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” (a terribly inappropriate song for that age). As soon as band was offered in fifth grade, I picked up the saxophone, and I played the part of Linus in the musical You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown in the sixth grade. My first year in high school, it was not possible to take both band and choir because of the scheduling. Since choir was offered during one of the lunch periods, I skipped lunch my entire freshman year in order to be able to take both. Later, I continued with choir and was in musicals (in high school and summer stock) as well as drum major of the marching band. At Miami University, I was in the Men’s Glee Club and took voice lessons, even though I was a business major. And after my first year in Chicago—first working in a retail management training program and then for a theater—I decided to go back to school at DePaul University for a degree in vocal performance. * How did you come to work at the CSO’s Rosenthal Archives? It was a happy accident. During my last year at DePaul, I started auditioning. Just before graduation, I was hired by Margaret Hillis into the Chicago Symphony Chorus. My first gig was at the Ravinia Festival in Mahler’s monumental Eighth Symphony in June 1992. Baptism by fire. At a chorus rehearsal that fall, I noticed some job postings for work with the CSO’s administration. One of the jobs was for a part-time cataloger and reference assistant in the archives. I interviewed, but I didn’t get the job. In the spring, the same job was posted again; apparently, the person hired didn’t work out. At the end of my second interview with the archivist, she asked me if I had any other questions, and I said, “what else do I have to say for you to give me the job?” A few hours later, she called with an offer. I distinctly remember that week, because we were also in rehearsals for performances and recording sessions for Beethoven’s Missa solemnis. I remember working one of my first days in the archives and later in the evening being part of massive ensemble—onstage with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Chorus—creating a huge wall of glorious sound. And all I could think was, “how did I get here?” * The CSO is one of America's major orchestras (along with ensembles in Boston, Cleveland, Los Angeles, New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Saint Louis, and San Francisco). What do these and other great orchestras share in common? As an archivist, my first thought is that all of these great orchestras each has a unique history. And those histories need to be constantly acknowledged to remember the past, embrace the present, and look forward to the future. Most of the major American orchestras have archives, and there is a tight little community of archivists. All of us are lucky to work for institutions that recognize the significance of their histories and the importance of investing in personnel to document that history. We’re in regular contact with each other—especially during the pandemic—providing support in a variety of ways, even if it’s just commiseration! * How has the CSO evolved since you started working there? It’s funny, we kind of do the same thing every season. We produce hundreds of performances—orchestral, choral, and chamber concerts; concerts for children in Orchestra Hall and out in the community; several weeks of concerts at the Ravinia Festival in Highland Park; and domestic and international tours. But no two seasons are ever the same. So much of the CSO’s culture is defined by the music director. When I started in the chorus and the archives, it was the beginning of Daniel Barenboim’s tenure. Sir Georg Solti still came back regularly as music director laureate and Pierre Boulez soon became principal guest conductor. Later, Bernard Haitink was principal conductor before Riccardo Muti became the tenth music director in 2010. All of them had their own impact on the organization, communicated through the works they programmed, the musicians they hired, and the way the orchestra sounded. Having the benefit of hearing the ensemble on a regular basis, it’s fascinating to observe how the orchestra continues to change. One of the things that has definitely evolved is commercial recording activity. In the 1990s, the orchestra was recording for multiple conductors on a variety of labels. A page in the program book listed all of the recent releases, and one of my early tasks was to make sure it stayed updated. Needless to say, that tapered off dramatically in the mid to late 1990s, resulting in many orchestras, including the CSO, developing in-house labels (ours is CSO Resound). It’s also important to mention the impact of technology. When I first started at the CSO, our computers were running MS-DOS, we didn’t have e-mail or internet, photographic images were on film, and our non-commercial recordings (primarily radio broadcasts) were produced in analog format. Of course, the advances in all of these technologies hasn’t fundamentally changed how we archive materials; our goal is still to preserve and provide access. However, for example, re-housing photonegatives is very different from migrating digital images to different formats and platforms. Also, we know what happens to paper over the course of a hundred or so years; but will a CD-R still be readable ten years from now? So, archivists need to constantly be aware of new best practices to properly care for our collections. The demand for archival materials has only increased in the age of Google and digitized collections. Digitization of our analog collections is expensive and time consuming, and, like most of my colleagues, we still have a long way to go. * What are some of your favorite treasures at the Rosenthal Archives? The bulk of our music collection is the personal library of Theodore Thomas, our founder and first music director. Born in 1835, Thomas was a self-taught violinist who began conducting in his early twenties. Before he founded the Chicago Orchestra (the ensemble was renamed the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in 1913) in 1891, he was music director of the New York and Brooklyn philharmonics, as well as leading his own eponymous ensemble, the Theodore Thomas Orchestra. He was easily the best-known orchestral conductor in the United States, and had amassed a collection of over 3,500 titles of music scores and parts, including hundreds of manuscripts and first editions. The largest collection of its kind in this country, it in essence became the orchestra’s music library. A few scores are in other private collections, but the bulk are in the Rosenthal Archives. Another favorite artifact—part of the Thomas collection—is a solid bronze copy of a life mask of Ludwig van Beethoven. The original mask was made in 1812; ours is a copy from later in the nineteenth century. Anticipating Beethoven’s upcoming 250th birthday, we created a little video (narrated by yours truly) that describes the artifact; the video is here. There are countless other artifacts in the collection, many described on a little blog that I’ve been writing for the last ten or so years: From the Archives. And if you ever find yourself in the Chicago area, give me a call and I’d be happy to offer a tour of the collection (information here). |
AuthorMatthew Smith, PhD (History). Public Programs at Miami University Regionals. Historian of Appalachia, the Ohio Valley, & the early American republic. Archives
February 2024
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