The Danger in Knowing a Little About a Lot
What does John Taylor Cuddy tell us about remembering historical figures?
Most people, myself included, are guilty of knowing very little about a lot in American history. This is a nearly ubiquitous problem for young people, particularly, because they are presented with enormous amounts of new information every day. The danger in knowing a little about a lot is we forego complexity for simplicity, building our opinions of the past on categorical interpretations of a handful of facts. Using buildings to commemorate historical figures is a poor way to humanize those individuals. At best these buildings feed a cycle of simplistic thinking; at worst they result in no thought at all. In the 1990s, Dickinson hurriedly named several buildings on campus after individuals deemed important to the college’s history. The problem? The College ignored the complex lives those people led, even-handedly ignoring the ugly facets of their histories. If Dickinson College uses buildings to commemorate historical figures, the school must supplement the commemorations with artistic, written, and discussion-based platforms.
In researching John Taylor Cuddy, the young Union soldier from Carlisle, Pennsylvania, I learned just how much effort it takes to understand a historical figure, much less honor that person. Cuddy was one of many men in Cumberland County to enlist in the Union Army in 1861. Furthermore, Cuddy did not perform in any way during the war that would warrant him a good choice for commemoration in a public space. However, his story teaches us just how important it is to take care in remembering a historical figure. Does their story serve as a teaching tool or an inspiration? What happens if these two are combined and their differences ignored? John Cuddy had strong beliefs about the purpose of the Union Army and the emancipation of slaves. These beliefs pushed and pulled against one another, similarly to that of historical figures in Dickinson’s past, like Benjamin Rush, who was an abolitionist and slaveholder simultaneously. Likewise, John Cuddy’s strong beliefs in the preservation of the Union strayed from the thoughts of many fellow Unionists who simultaneously fought for the end of slavery.
Cuddy, just like all the historical figures memorialized by Dickinson college, exhibited the same complexity that makes historical figures challenging to understand, much less commemorate. Cuddy was just shy of seventeen when he signed up to fight for the Union army, and his fervor for the preservation of the Union was only challenged by his racism. Cuddy criticized the Emancipation Proclamation in private letters, writing to his family that “Old abe done a bad thing w[h]en he freed all the slaves.”[1] Without reading Cuddy’s letters, it is easy to assume his opinions on slavery based on his choice to fight for the Union army, but these assumptions would oversimplify and misinterpret Cuddy’s position. John Cuddy’s letters show that his dedication to saving the Union was the reason for his fight; ending slavery was a divergence he feared would fuel rebel retaliation.
Cuddy’s complexity reflects that of the Union army. Many soldiers felt like Cuddy, while many others did not.Historians like Gary Gallagher and Chandra Manning debate what Union soldiers stood for, fought for, and believed in. Manning argues Union soldiers “recognized slavery as the reason for the war,”[2] while Gallagher claims the Civil War was “a war for Union that also killed slavery.”[3] This very debate is what makes figures like Cuddy hard to commemorate. Regarding these soldiers as an undifferentiated whole is not only wrong, but disingenuous. For this reason, commemorations are too often simplistic. Frequently it is only the name of the person attached to a building, or the title “Confederate” or “Union” carved into a statue, that represents an entire life. These kinds of words lead to assumptions about the individual, which in turn dispels complexity and invites ignorance.
In researching John Taylor Cuddy, the young Union soldier from Carlisle, Pennsylvania, I learned just how much effort it takes to understand a historical figure, much less honor that person. Cuddy was one of many men in Cumberland County to enlist in the Union Army in 1861. Furthermore, Cuddy did not perform in any way during the war that would warrant him a good choice for commemoration in a public space. However, his story teaches us just how important it is to take care in remembering a historical figure. Does their story serve as a teaching tool or an inspiration? What happens if these two are combined and their differences ignored? John Cuddy had strong beliefs about the purpose of the Union Army and the emancipation of slaves. These beliefs pushed and pulled against one another, similarly to that of historical figures in Dickinson’s past, like Benjamin Rush, who was an abolitionist and slaveholder simultaneously. Likewise, John Cuddy’s strong beliefs in the preservation of the Union strayed from the thoughts of many fellow Unionists who simultaneously fought for the end of slavery.
Cuddy, just like all the historical figures memorialized by Dickinson college, exhibited the same complexity that makes historical figures challenging to understand, much less commemorate. Cuddy was just shy of seventeen when he signed up to fight for the Union army, and his fervor for the preservation of the Union was only challenged by his racism. Cuddy criticized the Emancipation Proclamation in private letters, writing to his family that “Old abe done a bad thing w[h]en he freed all the slaves.”[1] Without reading Cuddy’s letters, it is easy to assume his opinions on slavery based on his choice to fight for the Union army, but these assumptions would oversimplify and misinterpret Cuddy’s position. John Cuddy’s letters show that his dedication to saving the Union was the reason for his fight; ending slavery was a divergence he feared would fuel rebel retaliation.
Cuddy’s complexity reflects that of the Union army. Many soldiers felt like Cuddy, while many others did not.Historians like Gary Gallagher and Chandra Manning debate what Union soldiers stood for, fought for, and believed in. Manning argues Union soldiers “recognized slavery as the reason for the war,”[2] while Gallagher claims the Civil War was “a war for Union that also killed slavery.”[3] This very debate is what makes figures like Cuddy hard to commemorate. Regarding these soldiers as an undifferentiated whole is not only wrong, but disingenuous. For this reason, commemorations are too often simplistic. Frequently it is only the name of the person attached to a building, or the title “Confederate” or “Union” carved into a statue, that represents an entire life. These kinds of words lead to assumptions about the individual, which in turn dispels complexity and invites ignorance.
Thomas Cooper is an excellent example of what a poor commemoration can do. Cooper hall was named in 1992, one of the several white-male choices for residential facilities on campus. Cooper only taught at Dickinson College for four years before leaving due to a prolonged enmity between himself and President Atwater, a Presbyterian clergyman who distrusted Cooper’s deism.[4][5] Though a well-regarded professor of his time, Cooper’s short stay at the College leaves many questions as to why he was a good candidate for commemoration. In 1992, there was some worry surrounding the choice of Cooper and other white men to be the face of so many residential halls, but the college dean at the time defended the decision in a memo to the Planning & Budget Committee: “I see no point in naming a building after the first black or the first Native American who attended Dickinson, nor the first woman professor. Given the heritage of this college, that leaves me only with other dead white men to choose among.”[6] Not only was this a dismissal of the multitude of individuals who contributed to Dickinson College over the years, but it also dismissed the complexity of Cooper’s life and the lives of other men commemorated by the school. If asked, most living in Cooper Hall would likely have no idea who Thomas Cooper was. By naming this building after him, he was cemented into the College’s history without any thoughtfulness or regard for the life he led or the career he chose.
Thomas Cooper, like John Cuddy, was full of twists and turns in his thoughts and actions. Cooper was a great thinker of the Enlightenment, a friend of Thomas Jefferson, and a victim of the Alien & Sedition Acts of 1798.[7] Cooper was also very critical of the African Slave Trade.[8] In 1787, a pamphlet circulated of reprinted letters written by Cooper, the contents of which vehemently contested the practice. The very first page contained a short poem, the first lines of which show Cooper’s disapproval of human bondage: “I would not have a Slave to till my ground / To carry me, to fan me while I sleep.”[9] Upon leaving Dickinson College, Cooper moved down south and took a position at the University of South Carolina. There, he became a slaveholder and states’ rights advocate.[10] In 1826 he published Lectures on the Elements of Political Economy, a collection of essays at odds with the letters he wrote during the Enlightenment. By the time of its publication, Cooper found purpose in slavery and strongly defended it: “In South Carolina or Georgia, I doubt if the rich lands could [be] cultivated without slave labor.”[11] Both Thomas Cooper and John Cuddy show the development and complexity of human opinion and thought, a facet of history that could never be captured by a name on a building, but must be unpacked and addressed by different means.
"Letters of the Slave Trade" and "Two Essays," courtesy of the House Divided Project.
Ellen Griffith Spears and James C. Hall of the University of Alabama offer ways to remedy this problem in their essay, Engaging in the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama. They relate some of the methods schools across the nation are taking to address the past, such as developing “academic tools of scholarly research.”[12] However, most of these remedies are platitudes. Of course, we should develop curricula that accurately reflect history. Of course, we should promote student research in all areas of study. However, the strongest argument Spears and Hall make is to create “dialogue groups.”[13] They use the University of Alabama’s Crossroads Community Center’s Sustained Dialogue Project as an example.[14] The purpose of this project is to spark “engagement with a place—a connection to one’s habitus, one’s physical surroundings” in order to address the past.[15] Spears and Hall argue this approach “not only informs but also allows students to envision new ways of being in the world.”[16] Why is this not a platitude? Because there is nothing like confronting your own prejudices and the prejudices of others in the same room, guided by a moderator, and with the understanding that you must develop your own perspective of the world. Dialogue groups are yet to become a cliché because they are rarely actually performed. Most often, even at a school as progressive as Dickinson, we discuss our need to have discussions more often than we actually talk to one another about tough topics. We can’t be afraid of history, especially our own. Confront, own it, and then do something to remedy it.
First, however, Dickinson must reconsider who it commemorates. Dickinson isn’t the only school where white men dominate public history. Ywone D. Edwards-Ingram of the College of William and Mary argues that prioritizing the history of white men above people of color effects public knowledge of slavery on university and college campuses.[17]William and Mary and the historic town of Williamsburg are examples of how public history and the recognition of slavery is formed by “the individual achievements of great white men.”[18] These figures permeate the landscape of the College and town, unparalleled by the names of slaves and freed black men and women. Dickinson is similar. All of the founders and trustees of Dickinson College were influential white men and many are honored on campus today. By solely honoring the contributions of white men in Dickinson’s history we ignore the important influence of black men and women in the College’s past. As one contributor to the 2019 Dickinson & Slavery Report wrote, “Anyone we are honoring on this campus should be held to the highest accountability.”[19] Even with displays, dialogue, and art to explicate the lives of commemorated individuals, the name itself should first and foremost reflect the College’s intent to be transparent about its history and consider people who have not been recognized in the past. Dickinson should “instead use names of formerly enslaved or free black men and women” to challenge the otherwise all-white, all-male narrative exemplified by the commemorative buildings on campus.[20]
Dickinson should also properly address the importance of founding figures and trustees like John Dickinson, James Buchanan, and Benjamin Rush. Even Thomas Cooper should remain a figure of discussion, though not commemoration, because his presence on campus contributed to the conversation we are having today. However, a holistic account of the lives of Dickinson’s founders and influencers is required. As a contributor to the Dickinson and Slavery Report said, “We can benefit from these slave owners’ lives, then, without celebrating them, just as they did to the people they enslaved.”[21] For example, if a building is renamed after William Grubber, an enslaved man owned by Benjamin Rush, a comprehensive account of Rush’s life should be included in the display contextualizing Grubber. As Manisha Sinha of the New York Daily News wrote, this approach would ensure we are “not erasing history but correcting it.”[22]
Art is also a necessary component of commemoration. After all, the most evocative—and romantic—commemorations are statues. However, art should be a thoughtful interpretation of the commemorated person, not an intent to manipulate the viewer into idolizing the figure. For example, if a building is named after Noah Pinkney, a Civil War veteran and vendor on Dickinson’s campus, the recently colorized photographs at the House Divided Project would be a powerful presentation in the common area or lobby of a residential hall. However, those images must not stand alone. Corresponding displays with plaques and posters are necessary for contextualizing the photographs and explicating the narrative.
Discussion, of course, is the most important part of a commemoration. Art and words must be engaged with, challenged, and defended. People learn best and remember most when they talk about what they read and see. At Dickinson, there are already orientations in residential halls at the beginning of each year to discuss diversity and inclusion, community expectations, and Title IX policies. Why not use a portion of this time to address the history of the building the students live in? Likewise, on the first day of classes professors should give a brief, but thorough, history of the individual named for the building in which they are teaching. If Dickinson is unwilling to take these steps, commemorations on buildings remain worthless, forgotten, and misleading methods of honoring the past.
[1] John T. Cuddy to John H. Cuddy, January 16, 1863; House Divided: The Civil War Research Engine at Dickinson College, http://hd.housedivided.dickinson.edu/node/32755.
[2] Chandra Manning, What This Cruel War Was Really Over (New York: Vintage Books, 2007), 4. [Google Books]
[3] Gary Gallagher, The Union War (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011), 1. [ProQuest Ebook Central]
[4] Rebecca Stout, “Thomas Cooper and Cooper Hall,” Dickinson College, https://thomascooperdickinson.weebly.com/thomas-cooper-overview.html.
[5] Dickinson College Archives, “Thomas Cooper (1759-1839),” Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections, http://archives.dickinson.edu/people/thomas-cooper-1759-1839.
[6] Matthew Pinsker, Dickinson & Slavery: A Report to the Community, (Dickinson College, 2019), 23
[7] Dickinson and Slavery, “Thomas Cooper,” The House Divided Project, http://housedivided.dickinson.edu/sites/slavery/thomas-cooper/.
[8] Rebecca Stout, “Thomas Cooper and Cooper Hall,” Dickinson College, https://thomascooperdickinson.weebly.com/ties-to-slavery.html.
[9]Thomas Cooper, “Letters on the Slave Trade,” Wheeler’s Manchester Chronicle (Manchester: C. Wheeler, 1787). 1. [Dickinson College Archives Online]
[10] Rebecca Stout, “Thomas Cooper and Cooper Hall,” Dickinson College, https://thomascooperdickinson.weebly.com/ties-to-slavery.html.
[11] Thomas Cooper, Lectures on the Elements of Political Economy, (Telescope Press: 1826), 96. [Dickinson College Archives]
[12] “Engaging the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama,” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 299.
[13] “Engaging the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama,” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 299.
[14] “Engaging the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama,” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 299.
[15] “Engaging the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama,” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 300.
[16] “Engaging the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama,” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 300-301.
[17] “Scholars, Lawyers, and Their Slaves” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 251.
[18] “Scholars, Lawyers, and Their Slaves” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 251.
[19] Matthew Pinsker, Dickinson & Slavery: A Report to the Community, (Dickinson College, 2019), 22
[20] Matthew Pinsker, Dickinson & Slavery: A Report to the Community, (Dickinson College, 2019), 22
[21] Matthew Pinsker, Dickinson & Slavery: A Report to the Community, (Dickinson College, 2019), 22
[22] Manisha Sinha, “What Those Monuments Stand For,” New York Daily News, https://www.nydailynews.com/opinion/monuments-stand-article-1.3423887.
First, however, Dickinson must reconsider who it commemorates. Dickinson isn’t the only school where white men dominate public history. Ywone D. Edwards-Ingram of the College of William and Mary argues that prioritizing the history of white men above people of color effects public knowledge of slavery on university and college campuses.[17]William and Mary and the historic town of Williamsburg are examples of how public history and the recognition of slavery is formed by “the individual achievements of great white men.”[18] These figures permeate the landscape of the College and town, unparalleled by the names of slaves and freed black men and women. Dickinson is similar. All of the founders and trustees of Dickinson College were influential white men and many are honored on campus today. By solely honoring the contributions of white men in Dickinson’s history we ignore the important influence of black men and women in the College’s past. As one contributor to the 2019 Dickinson & Slavery Report wrote, “Anyone we are honoring on this campus should be held to the highest accountability.”[19] Even with displays, dialogue, and art to explicate the lives of commemorated individuals, the name itself should first and foremost reflect the College’s intent to be transparent about its history and consider people who have not been recognized in the past. Dickinson should “instead use names of formerly enslaved or free black men and women” to challenge the otherwise all-white, all-male narrative exemplified by the commemorative buildings on campus.[20]
Dickinson should also properly address the importance of founding figures and trustees like John Dickinson, James Buchanan, and Benjamin Rush. Even Thomas Cooper should remain a figure of discussion, though not commemoration, because his presence on campus contributed to the conversation we are having today. However, a holistic account of the lives of Dickinson’s founders and influencers is required. As a contributor to the Dickinson and Slavery Report said, “We can benefit from these slave owners’ lives, then, without celebrating them, just as they did to the people they enslaved.”[21] For example, if a building is renamed after William Grubber, an enslaved man owned by Benjamin Rush, a comprehensive account of Rush’s life should be included in the display contextualizing Grubber. As Manisha Sinha of the New York Daily News wrote, this approach would ensure we are “not erasing history but correcting it.”[22]
Art is also a necessary component of commemoration. After all, the most evocative—and romantic—commemorations are statues. However, art should be a thoughtful interpretation of the commemorated person, not an intent to manipulate the viewer into idolizing the figure. For example, if a building is named after Noah Pinkney, a Civil War veteran and vendor on Dickinson’s campus, the recently colorized photographs at the House Divided Project would be a powerful presentation in the common area or lobby of a residential hall. However, those images must not stand alone. Corresponding displays with plaques and posters are necessary for contextualizing the photographs and explicating the narrative.
Discussion, of course, is the most important part of a commemoration. Art and words must be engaged with, challenged, and defended. People learn best and remember most when they talk about what they read and see. At Dickinson, there are already orientations in residential halls at the beginning of each year to discuss diversity and inclusion, community expectations, and Title IX policies. Why not use a portion of this time to address the history of the building the students live in? Likewise, on the first day of classes professors should give a brief, but thorough, history of the individual named for the building in which they are teaching. If Dickinson is unwilling to take these steps, commemorations on buildings remain worthless, forgotten, and misleading methods of honoring the past.
[1] John T. Cuddy to John H. Cuddy, January 16, 1863; House Divided: The Civil War Research Engine at Dickinson College, http://hd.housedivided.dickinson.edu/node/32755.
[2] Chandra Manning, What This Cruel War Was Really Over (New York: Vintage Books, 2007), 4. [Google Books]
[3] Gary Gallagher, The Union War (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011), 1. [ProQuest Ebook Central]
[4] Rebecca Stout, “Thomas Cooper and Cooper Hall,” Dickinson College, https://thomascooperdickinson.weebly.com/thomas-cooper-overview.html.
[5] Dickinson College Archives, “Thomas Cooper (1759-1839),” Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections, http://archives.dickinson.edu/people/thomas-cooper-1759-1839.
[6] Matthew Pinsker, Dickinson & Slavery: A Report to the Community, (Dickinson College, 2019), 23
[7] Dickinson and Slavery, “Thomas Cooper,” The House Divided Project, http://housedivided.dickinson.edu/sites/slavery/thomas-cooper/.
[8] Rebecca Stout, “Thomas Cooper and Cooper Hall,” Dickinson College, https://thomascooperdickinson.weebly.com/ties-to-slavery.html.
[9]Thomas Cooper, “Letters on the Slave Trade,” Wheeler’s Manchester Chronicle (Manchester: C. Wheeler, 1787). 1. [Dickinson College Archives Online]
[10] Rebecca Stout, “Thomas Cooper and Cooper Hall,” Dickinson College, https://thomascooperdickinson.weebly.com/ties-to-slavery.html.
[11] Thomas Cooper, Lectures on the Elements of Political Economy, (Telescope Press: 1826), 96. [Dickinson College Archives]
[12] “Engaging the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama,” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 299.
[13] “Engaging the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama,” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 299.
[14] “Engaging the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama,” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 299.
[15] “Engaging the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama,” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 300.
[16] “Engaging the Racial Landscape at the University of Alabama,” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 300-301.
[17] “Scholars, Lawyers, and Their Slaves” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 251.
[18] “Scholars, Lawyers, and Their Slaves” excerpted in Leslie M. Harris, ed., Slavery and the University (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2019), 251.
[19] Matthew Pinsker, Dickinson & Slavery: A Report to the Community, (Dickinson College, 2019), 22
[20] Matthew Pinsker, Dickinson & Slavery: A Report to the Community, (Dickinson College, 2019), 22
[21] Matthew Pinsker, Dickinson & Slavery: A Report to the Community, (Dickinson College, 2019), 22
[22] Manisha Sinha, “What Those Monuments Stand For,” New York Daily News, https://www.nydailynews.com/opinion/monuments-stand-article-1.3423887.