Helen Keller Was a “Firebrand” Socialist (or How History Whitewashed Her Political Life)

We expect that his­to­ries of famous fig­ures will prune their lives, sand down rough edges, rewrite and revise awk­ward and incon­ve­nient facts. What we may not expect – at least in the U.S. – is that decades of a famous person’s life will be redact­ed from the record. This is essen­tial­ly what hap­pened, how­ev­er, to the biog­ra­phy of Helen Keller even before her death in 1968. Per­haps the main offend­er remains play­wright William Gibson’s 1957 The Mir­a­cle Work­er, adapt­ed from the 1903 auto­bi­og­ra­phy she wrote at 23. Osten­si­bly about Keller, the sto­ry cen­ters instead, begin­ning with its title, on her teacher, Anne Sul­li­van.

The play (and 1962 film with Anne Ban­croft and Pat­ty Duke repris­ing their stage parts), por­trays Keller as a child, a role she was per­pet­u­al­ly assigned by her crit­ics through­out her adult life. She authored and pub­lished 14 books and dozens of essays dur­ing her 87 years, deliv­ered hun­dreds of speech­es, and main­tained a friend­ship and cor­re­spon­dence with many impor­tant fig­ures of the day. But in addi­tion to the usu­al sex­ism, she had to con­tend with those who thought her dis­abil­i­ty ren­dered her unfit to express opin­ions on mat­ters such as pol­i­tics. They asked that she “con­fine my activ­i­ties to social ser­vice and the blind,” she wrote in a sar­don­ic reply.

Keller’s polit­i­cal vision was writ­ten off as “a Utopi­an dream, and one who seri­ous­ly con­tem­plates its real­iza­tion indeed must be deaf, dumb, and blind.” What did she see in her mind that made crit­ics rush to belit­tle her? An end to war and Jim Crow; wom­en’s suf­frage, labor rights; an end to pover­ty and the pre­ventable child­hood ill­ness­es it engen­dered.… In a word, Helen Keller was a social­ist — and a pub­licly com­mit­ted one. “That we know so lit­tle of her avowed social­ism is aston­ish­ing, because she was an extro­vert­ed fire­brand who deliv­ered hun­dreds of rad­i­cal speech­es dur­ing” — writes Eileen Jones at Jacobin, quot­ing the 2020 doc­u­men­tary Her Social­ist Smile — “ ‘a fifty-year run on the lec­ture cir­cuit.’ ”

Keller pub­lished fre­quent arti­cles on the new­ly formed Sovi­et Union, Eugene Debs and the IWW (includ­ing “Why I Became an IWW” in 1916), and “Why Men Need Woman Suf­frage” (in 1913). “Turn­ing the yel­low­ing pages of rad­i­cal news­pa­pers and mag­a­zines from 1910 to the ear­ly 1920’s,” writes his­to­ri­an Philip Fon­er in an intro­duc­tion to her col­lect­ed social­ist writ­ings, “one fre­quent­ly finds the name Helen Keller beneath speech­es, arti­cles, and let­ters deal­ing with major social ques­tions of the era. The vision which runs through most of these writ­ings is the vision of social­ism.”

Mark Twain may have been the first to call Anne Sul­li­van a “mir­a­cle work­er” and Keller “a mir­a­cle,” but he treat­ed Keller “not as a freak,” she wrote, but as an equal and shared many of her views. He helped fund her edu­ca­tion at Rad­cliffe Col­lege (then a part of Har­vard ) and encour­aged her to speak and pub­lish. Keller joined the social­ist par­ty at age 29, in 1909, and in 1912, she pub­lished an arti­cle in The New York Call titled “How I Became a Social­ist.” The answer, she writes: “by read­ing.” As would be the case through­out her life, Keller felt the need to take a defen­sive pos­ture: crit­ics had accused John and Anne Macy (for­mer­ly Sul­li­van) of cor­rupt­ing her, to which she replied that she nei­ther shared Mr. Macy’s pro­pa­gan­dis­tic vari­ety of Marx­ism nor did Mrs. Macy share either of their views.

Keller’s polit­i­cal writ­ing is now wide­ly avail­able thanks to the inter­net, and can no longer be sup­pressed by edu­ca­tors who want to use her child­hood and dis­abil­i­ty but ignore most of her adult life. Even stu­dents watch­ing the PBS Amer­i­can Mas­ters doc­u­men­tary Becom­ing Helen Keller (see clip at the top) will learn that, gasp, yes, she was a social­ist. Dig deep­er, and they’ll find her views were unique and sig­nif­i­cant to the U.S. left: Kei­th Rosen­thal writes at Inter­na­tion­al Social­ist Review:

She was a seri­ous polit­i­cal thinker who made impor­tant con­tri­bu­tions in the fields of social­ist the­o­ry and prac­tice.… [S]he was a pio­neer in point­ing the way toward a Marx­ist under­stand­ing of dis­abil­i­ty oppres­sion and liberation—this real­i­ty has been over­looked and cen­sored. The mytho­log­i­cal Helen Keller that we are famil­iar with has apt­ly been described as a sort of “plas­ter saint;” a hol­low, emp­ty ves­sel who is lit­tle more than an apo­lit­i­cal sym­bol for per­se­ver­ance and per­son­al tri­umph.

Get to know the real Helen Keller — or a seri­ous­ly over­looked (at least) side of her life — in her polit­i­cal writ­ings herehere, and here and watch a video intro­duc­tion to her pol­i­tics by His­tor­i­cal­ly Fan­tas­tic fur­ther up.

via Jacobin

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

A New Mas­sive Helen Keller Archive Gets Launched: Take a Dig­i­tal Look at Her Pho­tos, Let­ters, Speech­es, Polit­i­cal Writ­ings & More

Watch Helen Keller & Teacher Annie Sul­li­van Demon­strate How Helen Learned to Speak (1930)

Mark Twain & Helen Keller’s Spe­cial Friend­ship: He Treat­ed Me Not as a Freak, But as a Per­son Deal­ing with Great Dif­fi­cul­ties

Helen Keller Writes a Let­ter to Nazi Stu­dents Before They Burn Her Book: “His­to­ry Has Taught You Noth­ing If You Think You Can Kill Ideas” (1933)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Real Interviews with People Who Lived in the 1800s

The nine­teenth cen­tu­ry is well and tru­ly gone. That may sound like a triv­ial claim, giv­en that we’re now liv­ing in the 2020s, but only in recent years did we lose the last per­son born in that time. With Taji­ma Nabi, a Japan­ese woman who died in 2018 at the age of 117 years, went our last liv­ing con­nec­tion to the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry (1900, the year of Taji­ma’s birth, tech­ni­cal­ly being that cen­tu­ry’s last year.) Luck­i­ly that same cen­tu­ry saw the inven­tion of pho­tog­ra­phy, sound record­ing, and even motion pic­tures, which offered cer­tain of its inhab­i­tants a means of pre­serv­ing not just their mem­o­ries but their man­ner. You can view a col­lec­tion of just such footage, restored and col­orized, at the Youtube chan­nel Life in the 1800s.

In the chan­nel’s playlist of inter­view clips you’ll find first-hand mem­o­ries of, if not the par­tic­u­lar decade of the eigh­teen-hun­dreds, then at least of the eigh­teen-fifties through the eigh­teen-nineties. Take the inven­tor Eli­hu Thom­son, inter­view sub­ject in the video at the top of the post. Born in Eng­land in 1853, Thom­son emi­grat­ed with his fam­i­ly to the Unit­ed States in 1857.

They set­tled in Philadel­phia, where Thom­son found him­self “forced out of school at eleven” because he was­n’t yet old enough to enter high school. Some advi­sors said, “Keep him away from books and let him devel­op phys­i­cal­ly.” To which the young Thomp­son respond­ed, “If you do that, you might as well kill me now, because I’ve got to have my books.”

One of those books was full of “chem­istry exper­i­ments and elec­tri­cal exper­i­ments,” and car­ry­ing them out him­self gave Thom­son his “first knowl­edge of elec­tric­i­ty” — a phe­nom­e­non of great impor­tance to the devel­op­ment that would hap­pen through­out the rest of the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry and into the twen­ti­eth. Albert L. Salt also got in on the ground floor, hav­ing start­ed work­ing for West­ern Elec­tric at age four­teen in 1881 and even­tu­al­ly become the pres­i­dent of West­ern Elec­tric’s appli­ance sub­sidiary Gray­bar. But of course, not every­one had such a pro­fes­sion­al lad­der avail­able: take the elder­ly inter­vie­wees in the footage just above, who were born into slav­ery the eigh­teen-for­ties and eigh­teen-fifties.

The more dis­tant a time grows, the more it tends to flat­ten in our per­cep­tion. In the absence of delib­er­ate his­tor­i­cal research, we lack a sense of the var­i­ous tex­ture of eras out of liv­ing mem­o­ry. In the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca alone, the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry encom­passed both great tech­no­log­i­cal inno­va­tion and the days of the Wild West. The lat­ter was the realm known to Civ­il War vet­er­an and pho­tog­ra­ph­er William Hen­ry Jack­son, who in the inter­view above remem­bers the Amer­i­can west “before the cow­boys came in” — not the time of the cow­boys, but before. Could Flo­rence Pan­nell, whose mem­o­ries of Vic­to­ri­an Eng­land we pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture, have imag­ined his world? Could he have imag­ined hers? See more inter­views here.

Relat­ed con­tent:

A 108-Year-Old Woman Recalls What It Was Like to Be a Woman in Vic­to­ri­an Eng­land

The Ear­li­est Known Motion Pic­ture, 1888’s Round­hay Gar­den Scene, Restored with Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence

What the First Movies Real­ly Looked Like: Dis­cov­er the IMAX Films of the 1890s

A Rare Smile Cap­tured in a 19th Cen­tu­ry Pho­to­graph

Hand-Col­ored Pho­tographs of 19th Cen­tu­ry Japan

Hear the Voic­es of Amer­i­cans Born in Slav­ery: The Library of Con­gress Fea­tures 23 Audio Inter­views with For­mer­ly Enslaved Peo­ple (1932–75)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

When Orson Welles Became a Speech & Joke Writer for Franklin Delano Roosevelt

As some­one who had mas­tered radio, film, and stage at such a young age, it shouldn’t be a sur­prise that Orson Welles once flirt­ed with the idea of run­ning for office. It nev­er hap­pened, but Welles got pret­ty close in 1944 by ghost-writ­ing speech­es for Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s re-elec­tion cam­paign. This in-depth arti­cle at Smith­son­ian by Erick Trick­ey goes into greater detail about this mix of enter­tain­ment and pol­i­tics, and shows how both have always influ­enced each oth­er.

In the final four months of 1944, Amer­i­ca was still at war with Japan and Ger­many, and Roo­sevelt was seek­ing an unprece­dent­ed fourth term to bring the war to a close. Roosevelt’s Repub­li­can chal­lenger Thomas Dewey ques­tioned the ail­ing president’s sta­mi­na and well­ness for the job, along with accu­sa­tions of cor­rup­tion and incom­pe­tence.

Welles was still Hollywood’s gold­en boy, with a career that had tak­en off dur­ing Roosevelt’s sec­ond term with his infa­mous War of the Worlds radio play, pick­ing up on America’s pre-war para­noia. It had con­tin­ued through 1941’s Cit­i­zen Kane and its thin­ly veiled attack on William Ran­dolph Hearst and oth­er oli­garchs. Welles’ voice car­ried author­i­ty and grav­i­tas. He was also mar­ried to Rita Hay­worth at the time, and enjoy­ing the upside of Hol­ly­wood suc­cess.

Roo­sevelt engaged the left-wing Welles in the last month of the cam­paign and soon the actor was trav­el­ing the coun­try and deliv­er­ing speech­es at ral­lies for FDR. In one stop he called Repub­li­cans “the par­ti­sans of priv­i­lege, the cham­pi­ons of monop­oly, the old oppo­nents of lib­er­ty, the deter­mined adver­saries of the small busi­ness and the small farm.”

Welles also sup­plied ideas and jokes for FDR’s speech­es. When Dewey and oth­er Repub­li­cans attacked FDR’s dog Fala, Welles’ penned this: “Well, of course, I don’t resent attacks, and my fam­i­ly doesn’t resent attacks — but Fala does resent them. You know, Fala is Scotch, and being a Scot­tie, as soon as he learned that the Repub­li­can fic­tion writ­ers, in Con­gress and out, had con­coct­ed a sto­ry that I had left him behind on the Aleut­ian Islands and had sent a destroy­er back to find him — at a cost to the tax­pay­ers of 2 or 3 or 8 or $20 mil­lion — his Scotch soul was furi­ous. He has not been the same dog since.”

The Amer­i­can pub­lic seemed to agree that going after a pet was a bit too much. The nation­al­ly broad­cast speech turned FDR’s for­tunes around. And at FDR’s final ral­ly at Fen­way Park in Boston, the pres­i­dent intro­duced both Welles (“The Dra­mat­ic Voice”) and Frank Sina­tra (“The Voice”). Welles spoke out against GOP elit­ism: “By free enter­prise they want exclu­sive right to free­dom. They are stu­pid enough to think that a few can enjoy pros­per­i­ty at the expense of the rest.”

Days lat­er, FDR won 53 per­cent of the pop­u­lar vote and took the elec­toral col­lege, 432–99. In one sense though, Dewey’s attacks on FDR’s health were found­ed: Roo­sevelt died five months lat­er on April 12, 1945.

FDR had writ­ten to Welles to thank him for the ral­ly, but also wrote about that April’s meet­ing of the Unit­ed Nations. The man had the weight of the free world upon his shoul­ders, and Welles felt it. The artist wrote a eulo­gy for FDR for the New York Post:

Des­per­ate­ly we need his courage and his skill and wis­dom and his great heart. He moved ahead of us show­ing a way into the future. If we lose that way, or fall beside it, we have lost him indeed. Our tears would mock him who nev­er wept except when he could do no more than weep. If we despair. because he’s gone — he who stood against despair — he had as well nev­er have lived, he who lived so great­ly.

You can read it online here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Orson Welles’ Icon­ic War of the Worlds Broad­cast (1938)

Rare Video Shows FDR Walk­ing: Filmed at the 1937 All-Star Game

When Amer­i­can Financiers and Busi­ness Lead­ers Plot­ted to Over­throw Franklin D. Roo­sevelt and Install a Fas­cist Gov­ern­ment in the U.S. (1933)

Lis­ten to Eight Inter­views of Orson Welles by Film­mak­er Peter Bog­danovich (RIP)

The Hearts of Age: Orson Welles’ Sur­re­al­ist First Film (1934)

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the Notes from the Shed pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, and/or watch his films here.

Philosopher Bertrand Russell Talks About the Time When His Grandfather Met Napoleon

Maybe our gen­er­a­tional enmi­ty has grown too great these days, but once upon a time, pri­ma­ry school teach­ers would ask stu­dents to inter­view an elder as an eye­wit­ness to his­to­ry. Most of our elders didn’t par­tic­i­pate in His­to­ry, big H. Few of them were (or stood adja­cent to) world lead­ers. But in some way or anoth­er, they expe­ri­enced events most of us only see in pho­tographs and film: the Viet­nam War, seg­re­ga­tion and the Civ­il Rights Move­ment, the Cold War and its end…. It’s not hard to see how this rel­a­tive­ly recent his­to­ry has shaped the world we live in.

Hear­ing from peo­ple who lived through such world-his­tor­i­cal events can give us need­ed per­spec­tive, if they’re still liv­ing and will­ing to talk. It offers a sense that the apoc­a­lyp­tic dread we often feel in the face of our own crises – cli­mate, virus, war, the seem­ing end of demo­c­ra­t­ic insti­tu­tions – was also acute­ly felt, and often with as much good rea­son, by those who lived a gen­er­a­tion or two before us. And yet, they sur­vived — or did so long enough to make chil­dren and grand­chil­dren. They saw glob­al cat­a­stro­phes pass and change and some­times wit­nessed turns of for­tune that brought empires to their knees.

Indeed, when we step back just a gen­er­a­tion or two before the oft-maligned boomers, we find peo­ple whose elders lived through the event that has come to stand for the hubris­tic fall of empires — Napoleon’s defeat and cap­ture at Water­loo on March, 20, 1815. The philoso­pher, writer, social crit­ic, and pub­lic fig­ure Bertrand Rus­sell was such a per­son. Both of Rus­sel­l’s par­ents died when he was very young, and his grand­par­ents raised him. In the restored, col­orized and “speech adjust­ed” 1952 inter­view just above, you can hear Rus­sell rem­i­nisce about his grand­fa­ther, the 1st Earl Rus­sell, who was born in 1792.

Rus­sel­l’s grand­fa­ther was a world leader. He served as prime min­is­ter between 1846 and 1856 and again from 1865 to 1866. Or as Rus­sell puts it to his Amer­i­can inter­view­er, “He was prime min­is­ter dur­ing your Mex­i­can War, dur­ing the Rev­o­lu­tions of 1848. I remem­ber him quite well. But as you can see, he belonged to an age that now seems rather removed.” A time when one man could and did, in just a few years time, place near­ly all of Europe under his direct con­trol or the con­trol of his sub­or­di­nates; before mod­ern war­fare, guer­ril­la war­fare, cyber and drone war.…

Earl Rus­sell not only met Napoleon, but became a late ally. After a 90-minute meet­ing with Bona­parte dur­ing the self-pro­claimed Emper­or’s exile, “Rus­sell denounced the Bour­bon Restora­tion and Britain’s dec­la­ra­tion of war against the recent­ly-returned Napoleon,” notes the video’s poster, “by argu­ing in the House of Com­mons that for­eign pow­ers had no right to dic­tate France’s form of gov­ern­ment.” The younger Rus­sell, him­self born in 1872, also saw his­to­ry swept away. He lived in “a world where all kinds of things that have now dis­ap­peared were thought to be going to last for­ev­er,” he says.

One may be remind­ed of the Com­mu­nist Man­i­festo’s “all that is sol­id melts into air.” Rus­sell gives no indi­ca­tion that his grand­fa­ther, a con­tem­po­rary of that world-his­tor­i­cal doc­u­men­t’s author, ever inter­act­ed with Karl Marx. But Rus­sell him­self met an impos­ing his­tor­i­cal fig­ure who looms just as large in world his­to­ry. Hear him above, in 1961, describe how he met Vladimir Lenin in 1920.

via @TamasGorbe

Relat­ed Con­tent:

When Orson Welles Crossed Paths With Hitler (and Churchill): “He Had No Per­son­al­i­ty…. I Think There Was Noth­ing There.”

Bertrand Russell’s Advice For How (Not) to Grow Old: “Make Your Inter­ests Grad­u­al­ly Wider and More Imper­son­al”

Bertrand Russell’s Advice to Peo­ple Liv­ing 1,000 Years in the Future: “Love is Wise, Hatred is Fool­ish”

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

The Ghosts and Monsters of Hokusai: See the Famed Woodblock Artist’s Fearsome & Amusing Visions of Strange Apparitions

When Hal­loween comes around this year, con­sid­er play­ing a round of hyaku­mono­gatari. You’ll need to assem­ble a hun­dred can­dles before­hand, but that’s the easy part; you and your friends will also need to know just as many ghost sto­ries. In ear­ly nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry Japan, “par­tic­i­pants would sit in a can­dlelit room and take turns telling fright­en­ing tales. After each one was shared, a can­dle would be extin­guished until there was no light left, in the room. It was then that the yōkai [“strange appari­tions”) would appear.” So says Youtu­ber Hochela­ga (who’s pre­vi­ous­ly cov­ered the Bib­li­cal apoc­a­lypse and long-ago pre­dic­tions of the future) in the video above, “The Ghosts of Hoku­sai.”

We all know the name of Kat­sushi­ka Hoku­sai, the most wide­ly renowned mas­ter of the tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese wood­block-print art called ukiyo‑e. In a life­time span­ning the mid-eigh­teenth to the mid-nine­teenth cen­tu­ry, Hochela­ga notes, Hoku­sai cre­at­ed around 30,000 unique pieces of art, includ­ing The Great Wave off Kana­gawa, part of Thir­ty-Six Views of Mount Fuji.

But before exe­cut­ing that tri­umphant late series, Hoku­sai made his own Hyaku­mono­gatari (lit­er­al­ly, “hun­dred tales”) — or rather, he ren­dered in his dis­tinc­tive style five of those tra­di­tion­al ghost sto­ries’ trag­ic, grotesque, and often humor­ous pro­tag­o­nists.

These char­ac­ters are yōkai, those “weird and mys­te­ri­ous beings” that “inhab­it super­nat­ur­al Japan.” They “come in all shapes and sizes, from friend­ly house­hold spir­its to fierce demons,” includ­ing the Oya­jirome, who lit­er­al­ly has an eye in the back of his head, and the Ushi-oni, “one part bull, one part crab, and the rest night­mare fuel.”  Hoku­sai’s inter­est tend­ed toward yōkai who had once been nor­mal humans: the neglect­ed wife of a samu­rai whose spir­it became trapped in a lantern, the mur­dered kabu­ki actor whose skele­tal remains emerged from a swamp to hunt down his killers.

You can read more about these yōkai, and take a look at Hoku­sai’s depic­tions of them, at the Pub­lic Domain Review and Thoughts on Papyrus. Soon after Hoku­sai’s death Japan opened to the world, begin­ning its trans­for­ma­tion into a state of hyper­moder­ni­ty. But tales of yōkai still have a cer­tain influ­ence on the Japan­ese cul­tur­al imag­i­na­tion, as evi­denced by the Miyoshi Mononoke Muse­um in Hiroshi­ma. Japan has been more or less closed once again these past cou­ple of years, but once it re-opens, why not make a trip to col­lect a few scary mono­gatari for your­self?

Relat­ed con­tent:

The First Muse­um Ded­i­cat­ed to Japan­ese Folk­lore Mon­sters Is Now Open

The Great Wave Off Kana­gawa by Hoku­sai: An Intro­duc­tion to the Icon­ic Japan­ese Wood­block Print in 17 Min­utes

Thir­ty-Six Views of Mount Fuji: A Deluxe New Art Book Presents Hokusai’s Mas­ter­piece, Includ­ing The Great Wave Off Kana­gawa

The Evo­lu­tion of The Great Wave off Kana­gawa: See Four Ver­sions That Hoku­sai Paint­ed Over Near­ly 40 Years

View 103 Dis­cov­ered Draw­ings by Famed Japan­ese Wood­cut Artist Kat­sushi­ka Hoku­sai

Down­load 215,000 Japan­ese Wood­block Prints by Mas­ters Span­ning the Tradition’s 350-Year His­to­ry

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Ray Dalio Is Giving Away Free Copies of His New Book Principles for Dealing with the Changing World to High School & College Teachers and Their Students

As we not­ed back in March, investor Ray Dalio has pub­lished his lat­est best­seller, Prin­ci­ples for Deal­ing with the Chang­ing World: Why Nations Suc­ceed and FailA his­to­ry of the rise and fall of empires over the last 500 years, the book uses the past to con­tem­plate the future, par­tic­u­lar­ly the fate of the Unit­ed States and Chi­na. Today, for Teacher Appre­ci­a­tion Week, Dalio has announced that he’s will­ing to give a copy of the book “to any high school or col­lege edu­ca­tor who wants it—and to all of their stu­dents if they intend to have them read it.” He writes:

Since releas­ing my book and ani­mat­ed video [above], Prin­ci­ples for Deal­ing with the Chang­ing World Order, many peo­ple have told me that both would be help­ful for teach­ing his­to­ry in schools and asked me if I would help make that hap­pen. So, dur­ing this Teacher Appre­ci­a­tion Week I will give a copy of the book to any high school or col­lege edu­ca­tor who wants it—and to all of their stu­dents if they intend to have them read it. And if there’s a lot of inter­est, I’d be hap­py to extend the offer past this week. Of course, the Youtube video is already free and eas­i­ly avail­able and I encour­age you to check that out if you want an overview of what’s in the book.

When you sign up, let me know if you’re inter­est­ed in me host­ing a live online ses­sion for class­rooms, which I’ll do if peo­ple would like it. If you are not an edu­ca­tor but know some who might be inter­est­ed in this offer, please share this link with them.

To access the offer, click here.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Prin­ci­ples for Deal­ing with the Chang­ing World Order: An Ani­mat­ed Video Explain­ing Key Ideas in Ray Dalio’s New Best­selling Book

The Prin­ci­ples for Suc­cess by Entre­pre­neur & Investor Ray Dalio: A 30-Minute Ani­mat­ed Primer

Eco­nom­ics 101: Hedge Fund Investor Ray Dalio Explains How the Econ­o­my Works in a 30-Minute Ani­mat­ed Video

Ray Dalio & Adam Grant Launch Free Online Per­son­al­i­ty Assess­ment to Help You Under­stand Your­self (and Oth­ers Under­stand You)

How Postwar Italian Cinema Created La Dolce Vita and Then the Paparazzi

Those who love the work of Fed­eri­co Felli­ni must envy any­one who sees La Dolce Vita for the first time. But today such a view­er, how­ev­er over­whelmed by the lav­ish cin­e­mat­ic feast laid before his eyes, will won­der if giv­ing the intru­sive tabloid pho­tog­ra­ph­er friend of Mar­cel­lo Mas­troian­ni’s pro­tag­o­nist the name “Paparaz­zo” isn’t a bit on the nose. Unlike La Dolce Vita’s first audi­ences in 1960, we’ve been hear­ing about real-life paparazzi through­out most all of our lives, and thus may not real­ize that the word itself orig­i­nal­ly derives from Fellini’s mas­ter­piece. Each time we refer to the paparazzi, we pay trib­ute to Paparaz­zo.

In the video essay above, Evan Puschak (bet­ter known as the Nerd­writer) traces the ori­gins of paparazzi: not just the word, but the often both­er­some pro­fes­sion­als denot­ed by the word. The sto­ry begins with the dic­ta­tor Ben­i­to Mus­soli­ni, an “avid movie fan and fan­boy of film stars” who wrote “more than 100 fawn­ing let­ters to Amer­i­can actress Ani­ta Page, includ­ing sev­er­al mar­riage pro­pos­als.” Know­ing full well “the emo­tion­al pow­er of cin­e­ma as a tool for pro­pa­gan­da and build­ing cul­tur­al pres­tige,” Mus­soli­ni com­mis­sioned the con­struc­tion of Rome’s Cinecit­tà, the largest film-stu­dio com­plex in Europe when it opened in 1937 — six years before his fall from pow­er.

Dur­ing the Sec­ond World War, Cinecit­tà became a vast refugee camp. When peace­time returned, with “the stu­dio space being used and Mus­solin­i’s thumb removed, a new wave of film­mak­ers took to the streets of Rome to make movies about real life in post­war Italy.” Thus began the age of Ital­ian Neo­re­al­ism, which brought forth such now-clas­sic pic­tures as Rober­to Rossellini’s Rome, Open City and Vit­to­rio De Sica’s Bicy­cle Thieves. In the nine­teen-fifties, major Amer­i­can pro­duc­tions start­ed com­ing to Rome: Quo Vadis, Roman Hol­i­day, Ben-Hur, Cleopa­tra. (It was this era, sure­ly, that inspired an eleven-year-old named Mar­tin Scors­ese to sto­ry­board a Roman epic of his own.) All of this cre­at­ed an era known as “Hol­ly­wood on the Tiber.”

For a few years, says Puschak, “the Via Vene­to was the coolest place in the world.” Yet “while the glit­terati cavort­ed in chic bars and clubs, thou­sands of oth­ers strug­gled to find their place in the post­war econ­o­my.” Some turned to tourist pho­tog­ra­phy, and “soon found they could make even more mon­ey snap­ping pho­tos of celebri­ties.” It was the most noto­ri­ous of these, the “Volpe di via Vene­to” Tazio Sec­chiaroli, to whom Felli­ni reached out ask­ing for sto­ries he could include in the film that would become La Dolce Vita. The new­ly chris­tened paparazzi were soon seen as the only ones who could bring “the gods of our cul­ture down to the messy earth.” These six decades lat­er, of course, celebri­ties do it to them­selves, social media hav­ing turned each of us — famous or oth­er­wise — into our own Paparaz­zo.

Relat­ed con­tent:

“The Cin­e­mat­ic Uni­verse”: A Video Essay on How Films Cin­e­ma­tize Cities & Places, from Man­hat­tan to Nashville, Rome, Open City to Taipei Sto­ry

Fed­eri­co Felli­ni Intro­duces Him­self to Amer­i­ca in Exper­i­men­tal 1969 Doc­u­men­tary

Cin­e­mat­ic Exper­i­ment: What Hap­pens When The Bicy­cle Thief’s Direc­tor and Gone With the Wind’s Pro­duc­er Edit the Same Film

Cinecit­tà Luce and Google to Bring Italy’s Largest Film Archive to YouTube

Mus­soli­ni Sends to Amer­i­ca a Hap­py Mes­sage, Full of Friend­ly Feel­ings, in Eng­lish (1927)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Footage of Flappers from 1929 Restored & Colorized with AI

The flap­per is the Roar­ing 20s’ endur­ing emblem — a lib­er­at­ed, young woman with bobbed hair, rolled down stock­ings, and a pub­lic thirst for cock­tails.

(My grand­moth­er longed to be one, and suc­ceed­ed, as best one could in Cairo, Illi­nois, only to mar­ry an old­er man at the age of 17, and give birth to my father a few months before the stock mar­ket crashed, bring­ing the friv­o­li­ty of the decade to an abrupt halt.)

Our abid­ing affec­tion for the flap­per is stoked on F. Scott Fitzger­ald’s Jazz Age novel­la, The Great Gats­by, and its many stage and screen adap­ta­tions, with their depic­tions of wild par­ties fea­tur­ing guests like Miss Baedeck­er (“When she’s had five or six cock­tails she always starts scream­ing like that”) and Lucille (“I nev­er care what I do, so I always have a good time.”)


The vin­tage fash­ion blog Glam­our Daze’s new­ly col­orized footage of a 1929  fash­ion show in Buf­fa­lo, New York, at the top of this post, presents a vast­ly more sedate image than Fitzger­ald, or Ethel Hays, whose sin­gle-pan­el dai­ly car­toon Flap­per Fan­ny was wild­ly pop­u­lar with both young women and men of the time.

 

 

The scene it presents seems more whole­some than one might have found in New York City, with what Fitzger­ald dubbed its “wild promise of all the mys­tery and the beau­ty in the world”. The mod­els seem more eager ama­teurs than run­way pro­fes­sion­als, though lined up jaun­ti­ly on a wall, all exhib­it “nice stems.”

My young grand­moth­er would have gone ga ga for the cloche hats, tea dress­es, bathing suits, loung­ing paja­mas, golf and ten­nis ensem­bles, and evening gowns, though the Deep Exem­plar-based Video Col­oriza­tion process seems to have stained some mod­els’ skin and teeth by mis­take.

The orig­i­nal black and white footage is part of the Uni­ver­si­ty of South Carolina’s Fox Movi­etone News col­lec­tion, whose oth­er fash­ion-relat­ed clips from 1929 include pre­sen­ta­tions fea­tur­ing Wash­ing­ton debu­tantes and col­lege coeds.

Added sound brings the peri­od to life with nary a men­tion of the Charleston or gin, though if you want a feel for 20s fash­ion, check out the col­lec­tion’s non-silent Movi­etone clip devot­ed to the lat­est in 1929 swimwearthis is a mod­ernistic beach ensem­ble of ray­on jer­sey with diag­o­nal stripes and a sun back cut

It’s the cat’s paja­mas. As is this playlist of hits from 1929.


Explore Glam­our Daze’s guide to 1920s fash­ion his­to­ry here.

Watch the orig­i­nal black and white footage of the Buf­fa­lo, New York fash­ion show here.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine and author, most recent­ly, of Cre­ative, Not Famous: The Small Pota­to Man­i­festo.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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