Research-based works on topics that spark my interest
Welcome.
Heroes
“If everybody was satisfied with himself, there would be no heroes.” – Mark Twain The more I learn, the more I know history is a funny line of work. Modern historians rarely grasp the ambition or ability to rise to the prominence of their subjects. Their archives are scant sought. The effect is humans writing…
Knights of Ellijay
Wednesday, April 23, 2014– Chivalry is alive. Yes, that knightly code from the days of Charlemagne France, Medieval times (not the fun-filled dining experience of middle-class Americans), and the pedestalization of Southern women by Southern men who once had no heritage to cling to other than an imaginary noble lineage. Knights and Ladies, we are.…
Toombs: Athens’ Original Student Scoundrel
At UGA, traditions give purpose to succeeding generations of rebellious young students. One legend established more traditions of irascibility than any other student who ever attended the university. The honoree was Robert Toombs. According to the official watered down campus tour, on graduation day in 1828, Toombs, a fiery, boisterous young man, stood under a…
“We Want Fred!:” UGA’s Reaction to Kent State, 1970
May 6, 1970- Shattered glass flew into Park Hall from several windows. Outside, a few thousand students and citizens demanded attention from U.G.A.’s president Fred Davison. When he sent anybody he could convince to face the angry crowd in his stead, they violently broke into the academic building. Four thousand voices rose into the cool…
In Floating Fragments: The Great Freshet of 1840
Monday, May 25, 1840– The turbid waters of the Oconee swelled. The artery of a nascent Athens community revolted. The rains began that afternoon and created an injurious effect: the Greatest Natural Disaster in Athens’s History. For days it rained relentlessly. Banks gave way in the Oconee and Savannah watersheds. Milledgeville (then the state capital), Augusta,…
Them’s Fightin’ Words
When I realized that a handful of bearded duck callers had taken over the shelves of Wal-Mart and the hearts of many, I felt like the South was taking a GIANT leap backward. The phenomenon seemed to blend Honey Boo-Boo, Quran burners, and Paul Broun into a rancid Brunswick stew. There are those that know…
A Windshield History: Athens-Augusta (Part 2)
Most mornings I drive with the window down. The cool air brings the scent of the Piedmont to me. Although shrouded in machinery, it is my way of letting nature in. A window pane is not the best way to see the environment. Working farms smell like manure and sweet feed. Rivers smell sweet and…
One Planet, a Singular Problem
I often field questions about Environmental History. “What is Environmental History?” Is the most obvious and common. A certain knot sets in my gut when I have to answer, not because I am uncertain about my choice of profession, but because I know I am stepping into dangerous territory. Environmentalism is a polarizing topic. Global…
Southerner
Heat, sweat, rednecks, and slaves. Beer cans floating on molasses rivers. Preachers throwing bibles at demons, deacons visiting widows. Mint Juleps, porch swings, pines, and red clay. Big trucks, battle flags, country tunes, and white lightning. Such is the South, to some. I was born in Tampa, Florida, southern by geography not culture. My grandfather…
The Curse
Becoming a specialist creates a curse. An engineer cannot stop trying to figure out how things work. A psychologist cannot have an average conversation. A historian cannot live entirely in the present, a condition which annoys my friends and family to no end. Because much of history is bleak, darkness follows me. Knowing what most…
Windshield History: A Car’s Eye View, Athens-Augusta (Part 1)
Every Wednesday I drive to Augusta, Georgia. The city is less interesting than the trip. It’s just under a two-hour drive from Athens. The trip is a course in southern environmental history. Athens is the liberal oasis of the south. Sure, corporate mongers tear down historic buildings to build parking decks. The university acts purely…
History is Complicated
I shivered more than ever before. Clutching a drenched sleeping bag. Lying in soggy clothes, next to three trembling men. The wind howled like a locomotive, swirled around our tent, and pounded on the vinyl walls. I drifted through several states, none of which were sleep. It was last October. I was a junior at…
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Anthony Sadler 