Adam Goodheart's father was a judge who married people on Valentine's Day so that their marriage certificate could be signed by Judge Goodheart.
Today Adam was the speaker at the Historical Society's Banner Lecture as he talked about his book "1861: The Civil War Awakening."
And talk he did, which is always preferable to a lecture read from notes, which today's was certainly not.
He had a casual way with facts, couching them in stories that no doubt engaged the group of St. Gertrude girls who'd been dragged to the lecture by their history teacher,
Contrast them with the charming white-haired woman next to me, a regualar attendee, who cracked wise as soon as I asked if the seat next to her was taken.
"No, but we're saving it for someone with bad knees. Do you have bad knees?" Despite good knees, I was allowed to sit.
We fell into a discussion of what we do and found that we were both fans of the UR International Film Series.
"Some of them are pretty frisky," she said sotto voice but with a big smile. I've been at some of the friskier ones, so I knew what she meant.
She couldn't wait for "that cute VHS President" to get the lecture started (no doubt Paul Leavingood has no clue he has a fan club).
Goodheart's talk centered on the significance of May 23rd, which just happens to be my birthday, although 1861 is a bit before my time.
He talked about Elmer Ellsworth and his regiment of Zoaves, which he described as "a cross between Cirque de Soliel and SEAL Team 6" for their showy uniforms and fancy drill routines.
He also mentioned that since Ellsworth was the first casualty of the Civil War, he ended up with 20,000 babies named after him as a result.
20,000 Elmer Ellsworths? It boggles the mind, but as Goodheart explained, Internet databases provided the proof.
Ah, but did Judge Goodheart ever marry an Elmer Ellsworth descendant?
Dunno. But it's enough to hear some good stories and meet an amusing seatmate.
I never said all my questions got answered at a Banner Lecture.
Showing posts with label banner lectrue series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label banner lectrue series. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Richmond: Not Rugged, but Sly
I'm scared of balls being thrown toward me and I have zero hand/eye coordination.
But, yes, that was me at today's Virginia Historical Society's Banner Lecture on "Facts and Legends of Sports in Richmond."
Honestly, it was the appeal of using a different lens to look at Richmond's history that got me there.
For all my historical geekiness, the closest I've come to exploring the past through sports was the Armstrong/Walker exhibit at the Black History Museum, here.
Today's illustrated lecture combined the writing talent of Brooks Smith (who does similar commentary on WCVE) and Wayne Dementi, the keeper of all old Richmond photographs.
His studio on Grace Street is a treasure trove for lovers of history and photography and I've found myself lost in there looking at this city's past through the lenses of long-dead shooters.
Using great imagery, the two men took turns sharing sports anecdotes about players, teams, venues and sports as they related to RVA.
Beginning with the 1968 Tuckahoe 12-year old baseball team that went to the Little League World Series in Osaka (they lost 1-0), I was surprised at how many in the audience remembered the event.
At a recent reunion of the team, one of the original players remarked, "How did we know when we were twelve years old that it would end up being the highlight of our lives?" Boy, is that a heavy statement.
We heard about quoits, the predecessor of horseshoes and the Quoits Club which was created on Buchanan's Farm, where VCU's campus stands today.
Apparently the PGA Championship was played at Hermitage Country Club with slammin' Sammy Snead winning the fabulous prize of $3500.
A writer at the time described the golf course as "Not rugged, but sly." Maybe that could be RVA's new slogan.
Baseball player Ray Dandridge grew up paying ball in the cornfields of Church Hill using a branch for a bat and cardboard and tape for a ball, an image I can't even summon.
Southside Speedway, which I know only for its "Go Fast, Turn Left" bike races, has hosted quite an array of famous NASCAR drivers, I discovered.
Billie Jean King played the first Virginia Slims Tennis Championship at Westwood Club in 1970 (sponsored by Philip-Morris, natch), making us the birthplace of the professional women's tour.
Pictures of the Tour de Trump (and later the Tour DuPont) with big name bicyclists tearing through downtown Richmond in the late '80s and early '90s were as impressive for the spectator turnout as for the well-known names.
When Lance Armstrong was asked his thoughts on Taylor Hill after having to ascend it four times during the course of the race, he responded with, "Whew!"
You can't beat a bicyclist for a pithy quote.
And now that I've learned that we were home to the first recorded cricket game in the New World, I know you can't beat Richmond for its noble sports history.
So next time you go down Monument Avenue and see beer-swilling kids playing Bag-o in the grassy median, you'll know that they're really just descendants of the Buchanan Quoits Club.
Toss on, sports enthusiasts. Just please don't toss near me. I catch like a girl.
But, yes, that was me at today's Virginia Historical Society's Banner Lecture on "Facts and Legends of Sports in Richmond."
Honestly, it was the appeal of using a different lens to look at Richmond's history that got me there.
For all my historical geekiness, the closest I've come to exploring the past through sports was the Armstrong/Walker exhibit at the Black History Museum, here.
Today's illustrated lecture combined the writing talent of Brooks Smith (who does similar commentary on WCVE) and Wayne Dementi, the keeper of all old Richmond photographs.
His studio on Grace Street is a treasure trove for lovers of history and photography and I've found myself lost in there looking at this city's past through the lenses of long-dead shooters.
Using great imagery, the two men took turns sharing sports anecdotes about players, teams, venues and sports as they related to RVA.
Beginning with the 1968 Tuckahoe 12-year old baseball team that went to the Little League World Series in Osaka (they lost 1-0), I was surprised at how many in the audience remembered the event.
At a recent reunion of the team, one of the original players remarked, "How did we know when we were twelve years old that it would end up being the highlight of our lives?" Boy, is that a heavy statement.
We heard about quoits, the predecessor of horseshoes and the Quoits Club which was created on Buchanan's Farm, where VCU's campus stands today.
Apparently the PGA Championship was played at Hermitage Country Club with slammin' Sammy Snead winning the fabulous prize of $3500.
A writer at the time described the golf course as "Not rugged, but sly." Maybe that could be RVA's new slogan.
Baseball player Ray Dandridge grew up paying ball in the cornfields of Church Hill using a branch for a bat and cardboard and tape for a ball, an image I can't even summon.
Southside Speedway, which I know only for its "Go Fast, Turn Left" bike races, has hosted quite an array of famous NASCAR drivers, I discovered.
Billie Jean King played the first Virginia Slims Tennis Championship at Westwood Club in 1970 (sponsored by Philip-Morris, natch), making us the birthplace of the professional women's tour.
Pictures of the Tour de Trump (and later the Tour DuPont) with big name bicyclists tearing through downtown Richmond in the late '80s and early '90s were as impressive for the spectator turnout as for the well-known names.
When Lance Armstrong was asked his thoughts on Taylor Hill after having to ascend it four times during the course of the race, he responded with, "Whew!"
You can't beat a bicyclist for a pithy quote.
And now that I've learned that we were home to the first recorded cricket game in the New World, I know you can't beat Richmond for its noble sports history.
So next time you go down Monument Avenue and see beer-swilling kids playing Bag-o in the grassy median, you'll know that they're really just descendants of the Buchanan Quoits Club.
Toss on, sports enthusiasts. Just please don't toss near me. I catch like a girl.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Comfortably Strange on the Playground
If you haven't already gathered as much, I have been a nerd practically since birth. It wasn't a conscious choice; it's just who I was from a very young age. Need proof?
In fifth grade, I appropriated a book from my parents' bookshelf about the Lost Colony and took it to school to read on the playground (I know, right?). A classmate came up and asked why I was reading that "grownup book" instead of playing. I told her it interested me, to which she responded, "You're strange." Nerd and geek weren't in our vocabulary back then or I'm sure she'd have been more specific.
Fast forward to today and the Banner Lecture at the Virginia Historical Society, "A Kingdom Strange: The Brief and Tragic History of the Lost Colony of Roanoke," by author James Horn. I go to a lot of these lectures and I can honestly say this is the first where every single seat was taken and people were standing in the back. Apparently the topic is of interest to more than just me.
The British Horn, an American history scholar, warned us in advance of a spoiler in the course of his lecture. His research has led him to a different conclusion about the fate of the Lost Colony than that of current prevailing thought. He was kind enough to say he'd alert us so that we could leave the hall if we wanted to save the surprise ending for our reading pleasure (the book had sold out at the museum shop moments before the lecture so plenty of people had bought it). I saw no one leave, though.
He wove a fascinating story of Sir Walter Raleigh whose grand intentions of exploration and profiteering were made possible by doing the nasty with Queen Elizabeth. I have little doubt that the trade off was well worth it for the queen; portraits of Raleigh show a handsome, virile looking guy in spite of the foppish clothing of the day.
During the question and answer period, we heard from a surprising number of native East Carolinians, all of whom had a tale or legend associated with the missing people of the first English settlement in the country; they wanted to see if Horn's research could shed any light on what they'd heard over the years. They were probably reading books about the Lost Colony in fifth grade, too, but I bet nobody made fun of them.
Not that my classmate Anne's comment did any lasting damage to my young psyche. In addition to being born a nerd, I was also born comfortable with that fact. Feel free to call me strange.
In fifth grade, I appropriated a book from my parents' bookshelf about the Lost Colony and took it to school to read on the playground (I know, right?). A classmate came up and asked why I was reading that "grownup book" instead of playing. I told her it interested me, to which she responded, "You're strange." Nerd and geek weren't in our vocabulary back then or I'm sure she'd have been more specific.
Fast forward to today and the Banner Lecture at the Virginia Historical Society, "A Kingdom Strange: The Brief and Tragic History of the Lost Colony of Roanoke," by author James Horn. I go to a lot of these lectures and I can honestly say this is the first where every single seat was taken and people were standing in the back. Apparently the topic is of interest to more than just me.
The British Horn, an American history scholar, warned us in advance of a spoiler in the course of his lecture. His research has led him to a different conclusion about the fate of the Lost Colony than that of current prevailing thought. He was kind enough to say he'd alert us so that we could leave the hall if we wanted to save the surprise ending for our reading pleasure (the book had sold out at the museum shop moments before the lecture so plenty of people had bought it). I saw no one leave, though.
He wove a fascinating story of Sir Walter Raleigh whose grand intentions of exploration and profiteering were made possible by doing the nasty with Queen Elizabeth. I have little doubt that the trade off was well worth it for the queen; portraits of Raleigh show a handsome, virile looking guy in spite of the foppish clothing of the day.
During the question and answer period, we heard from a surprising number of native East Carolinians, all of whom had a tale or legend associated with the missing people of the first English settlement in the country; they wanted to see if Horn's research could shed any light on what they'd heard over the years. They were probably reading books about the Lost Colony in fifth grade, too, but I bet nobody made fun of them.
Not that my classmate Anne's comment did any lasting damage to my young psyche. In addition to being born a nerd, I was also born comfortable with that fact. Feel free to call me strange.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
I Prefer my History with Breasts
The problem with being a history geek and a female is that it can get monotonous listening to lecture after lecture about what men did.
And what men said.
And where men fought.
So today's Banner lecture at the Virginia Historical Society was especially satisfying because it was all about an historical figure who did not stand to pee.
Dolley Madison: A Documentary was a combination lecture and partial viewing of a new PBS film (to be shown here in March) about an especially interesting female figure in American history, one who couldn't walk out of her house without finding ten men hanging around like a bad smell, hoping to catch her eye.
A woman who, although originally a Quaker, decided not only to marry outside her faith, but immediately started lowering her necklines to reveal more bosom and shoulder than was conventionally acceptable (a cousin sent her handkerchiefs and suggested she use them to shield her shelf from public view).
A woman, in other words, who made her own rules.
I suspect Dolley had strong pheromones, based on the gaggle of hopefuls and the passionate declarations of the shy and intellectual James Madison, already a political superstar, who spoke of the flames burning inside of him for her.
Not to mention his inability to think of anything else except her.
For a man presumed by all to remain a life-long bachelor, those are passionate words.
Come to think of it, those are passionate words coming from any guy.
But it was more than just the emotions she elicited in men.
Her far-sightedness in creating a White House for the people, right down to using only American-made furniture and, as her final act before fleeing the soon-to-be-burnt White House, taking down the Gilbert Stuart portrait of George Washington lest it be marched through the streets of London as a symbolic war trophy, were brilliant and historical.
But then I've always believed that breasts give my sex an intellectual edge.
It's about time the history powers-that-be spread the word to the masses.
And what men said.
And where men fought.
So today's Banner lecture at the Virginia Historical Society was especially satisfying because it was all about an historical figure who did not stand to pee.
Dolley Madison: A Documentary was a combination lecture and partial viewing of a new PBS film (to be shown here in March) about an especially interesting female figure in American history, one who couldn't walk out of her house without finding ten men hanging around like a bad smell, hoping to catch her eye.
A woman who, although originally a Quaker, decided not only to marry outside her faith, but immediately started lowering her necklines to reveal more bosom and shoulder than was conventionally acceptable (a cousin sent her handkerchiefs and suggested she use them to shield her shelf from public view).
A woman, in other words, who made her own rules.
I suspect Dolley had strong pheromones, based on the gaggle of hopefuls and the passionate declarations of the shy and intellectual James Madison, already a political superstar, who spoke of the flames burning inside of him for her.
Not to mention his inability to think of anything else except her.
For a man presumed by all to remain a life-long bachelor, those are passionate words.
Come to think of it, those are passionate words coming from any guy.
But it was more than just the emotions she elicited in men.
Her far-sightedness in creating a White House for the people, right down to using only American-made furniture and, as her final act before fleeing the soon-to-be-burnt White House, taking down the Gilbert Stuart portrait of George Washington lest it be marched through the streets of London as a symbolic war trophy, were brilliant and historical.
But then I've always believed that breasts give my sex an intellectual edge.
It's about time the history powers-that-be spread the word to the masses.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The What If? Lecture
I'm not a true Southerner.
I was born in Washington, D.C. to a native Washingtonian and a Richmonder, so I wasn't raised to worship at the feet of dead white guys.
I do recall my Richmond aunt once referring to the great unpleasantness as the War of Northern Aggression and I couldn't wait to amuse my 4th grade teacher with her quaint Southern phrase.
So while I'm no more interested in Robert E. Lee than I am in any number of dead guys, I was one of hundreds at the VA Historical Society for today's Banner lecture on "Lee's Lessons in Leadership" by Andy Trudeau.
What made it particularly interesting was that the focus was entirely historically-informed speculation; Lee was supposed to have written the definitive book on the war, A History of Campaigns of the Army of Northern Virginia, but he chose not to do so.
Trudeau speculated that it was partly due to his full-time job as President of Washington College, part of a grand plan to prepare future generations of leaders.
But Lee didn't relish controversy and he knew writing the book would be a minefield, preferring remaining silent to inciting discussion on a subject he wanted left in the past.
Apparently, too, the eagerness of Southerners for him to pen the definitive war book was too much of a burden, especially since he was no writer.
According to historical records, Lee purposely chose to read no works on the subject of the war once it was over. None.
You have to respect a man who knew his limitations and although I'm no member of Lee's fan club, a man who took long walks in between battles, had a pet rattlesnake and was wise enough to leave the past in the past, is worth an hour of my time...even with the guy snoring two rows behind me.
Besides, lately I seem to be very much in what if? mode myself...
I was born in Washington, D.C. to a native Washingtonian and a Richmonder, so I wasn't raised to worship at the feet of dead white guys.
I do recall my Richmond aunt once referring to the great unpleasantness as the War of Northern Aggression and I couldn't wait to amuse my 4th grade teacher with her quaint Southern phrase.
So while I'm no more interested in Robert E. Lee than I am in any number of dead guys, I was one of hundreds at the VA Historical Society for today's Banner lecture on "Lee's Lessons in Leadership" by Andy Trudeau.
What made it particularly interesting was that the focus was entirely historically-informed speculation; Lee was supposed to have written the definitive book on the war, A History of Campaigns of the Army of Northern Virginia, but he chose not to do so.
Trudeau speculated that it was partly due to his full-time job as President of Washington College, part of a grand plan to prepare future generations of leaders.
But Lee didn't relish controversy and he knew writing the book would be a minefield, preferring remaining silent to inciting discussion on a subject he wanted left in the past.
Apparently, too, the eagerness of Southerners for him to pen the definitive war book was too much of a burden, especially since he was no writer.
According to historical records, Lee purposely chose to read no works on the subject of the war once it was over. None.
You have to respect a man who knew his limitations and although I'm no member of Lee's fan club, a man who took long walks in between battles, had a pet rattlesnake and was wise enough to leave the past in the past, is worth an hour of my time...even with the guy snoring two rows behind me.
Besides, lately I seem to be very much in what if? mode myself...
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