Matthew Henson (1866–1955) was the ultimate American explorer—brave, skilled, and unbreakable. For decades, however, history relegated him to the shadows because he was Black.

Hired originally as a personal valet by well-known explorer Robert Peary, Henson proved to be far more than a servant. He was the critical asset that made Peary’s obsession with the North Pole possible. Yet, in 1909, when Peary and Henson reached what was determined to be the North Pole, Peary was hailed as a hero. Henson, the African American who actually reached the point first, was largely ignored.

Only much later was he recognized for his achievements.

Matthew Henson: The Early Years

Mathew Henson was born in Charles County, Maryland, in 1866 to freeborn Black sharecroppers. His father took the family to Washington, D.C. in search of better job opportunities. However, before the family could settle in, both parents passed away.  The children were left in the care of relatives.

At age 11, Matthew ran away and found work as a cabin boy on a ship. The captain saw that he was a bright boy. He helped him improve his reading, taught him navigation skills, and familiarized Henson with all aspects of running a ship. The captain died when Henson was 18. With the loss of his mentor, Henson returned to Washington, D.C. and accepted a job as a salesclerk for a furrier.

Henson became a favorite of the store owner, and one day when Robert Peary, then a civil engineer for the U.S. Navy, came in to purchase items for a future trip to the jungles of Nicaragua, the store owner suggested Peary hire Henson as his valet. The owner knew that Henson would bring many skills to the work Peary expected to do.

Became a Team

For the first four years of their 22 years together, they struggled with the challenges of the jungles of the Southern hemisphere. Then when Robert Peary committed to an Arctic exploration (Greenland), they needed to hone new skills.

As they worked together, they developed a pattern. While Peary focused on logistics and plans, Henson mastered the day-to-day reality of Arctic survival. He became fluent in the Inuit language, earning the trust of the local guides who affectionately called him Maripaluk (“Matthew the Kind One”).

Henson also became the team’s master craftsman, building the sledges himself using Inuit techniques that could withstand the brutal terrain. From training the dog teams to building igloos for shelter in sub-zero temperatures, Henson possessed a unique combination of technical skill and physical endurance. His knowledge and his ease with the dogs also made him the best person to move forward to break the trails.

Greenland

In the 1890s, explorers were obsessed with reaching the North Pole, and Greenland was considered both the Arctic gateway and the bootcamp for Arctic travel.

In 1891 Peary was ready to take on this first challenge with an exploration of Greenland.  But Peary and Henson had never experienced Arctic ice, and it was much more difficult to navigate. Arctic sea ice is unexpected in every way, shifting from towering, jagged pressure ridges that have been built up over years to crevices that drop into deadly rivers of black water.

As their ship rammed along the coastline trying to break through the ice, a massive chunk of ice struck the ship’s rudder. The force of the ice spun the heavy iron tiller (steering lever) onto the deck, pinning Pary against the wheelhouse and causing him to break his leg.

Many thought they should return home. Eventually part of the group departed, but Peary and Henson remained until 1893. During that time, Henson continued to hone his skills since much of the time, Henson was bedridden.

A few years later their return, Peary mounted another expedition to Greenland to go further north to chart the ice cap. That trip was ill-fated as well. It was a large group, and they ran out of food and supplies and had to resort to eating their sled dogs to survive.

The North Pole: Only 174 Miles Away

After their first effort to reach the North Pole failed, they tried again in 1902. During this expedition, six Eskimos hired to accompany them died from starvation. Again, they had to turn around.

In 1906, Peary and Henson came forward with renewed energy. Peary had been able to give input on the design of the S.S. Theodore Roosevelt that was intended to be an ice cutter. However, the ship was no match for the Arctic ice.  They reached a point farther than they ever had—only 174 miles from the Pole, but they could go no further.

Peary and Henson left the ship to sledge forward on their own (sledging in the Arctic describes going by foot, but men are compelled to push, pull, and drag their sledges, as the sledges have all their provisions). They were halted by a huge black river that was miles wide. They eventually found their way back to The Roosevelt.  The “174-mile heartbreak” trip was a huge disappointment.

Final Attempt in 1908-09: Racing the Sun

In 1908, Robert Peary and Matthew Henson were getting older. Peary was 52 and Henson was 42. They had been close to death several times, and they knew the brutal temperatures and difficult conditions would be even more challenging. What’s more, there could be no “next time.” They were simply too old.

The S.S. Roosevelt spent a year in a New York shipyard being rebuilt and repaired. Finally, on a scorching hot day in July of 1908, it was ready to go. Peary and Henson left with 24 men, 19 sledges, and 133 dogs.

As they had before, they took the ice cutter as far as possible. Then Peary and Henson left with sledges. They were going to cover this last leg of their trip with four Eskimos and 40 dogs. Henson was expected to break the trail. Peary followed behind in a sledge as he was suffering seriously from frostbite.

They took the position needed for the final push and waited out the Polar Night (January and early February) in their chosen location. When Henson started out in late February, they had a full moon that reflected off the white snow, providing enough silvery light to navigate. As twilight arrived (early March), they pushed further north, journeying on.

By April 6 when they arrived at what was deemed the North Pole, the sun was peeking above the horizon. As Henson traveled, breaking the trail, he feared he overshot the mark and tracked back, running into Peary’s group at that time.

As the two together moved forward, calculating carefully where the Pole must be, they found Henson’s footprints.  Unknowingly, he had actually reached the Pole by himself. Initially, no one really addressed the matter. They planted the flag, took photos and measurements to prove their achievement and bedded down for the night.

The Return Trip

They knew they had to race back to the ship to avoid the spring melt. While Arctic ice does not usually fully melt, it does open and shift in unexpected ways, and it’s a dangerous time for exploring.

Throughout their expeditions, Peary and Henson had a custom. When they were ready to leave each morning, Henson or Peary would rap on the ice outside the tent where the other slept. That morning, Robert Peary got up and departed alone. Relations were cold between the two men for the remainder of the trip.

Meanwhile Back in the States

When they returned to the United States, the news did not get any better. Frederick Cook, an explorer who had been on one of the Greenland missions with them, claimed he reached the North Pole a year ahead of them—1908. (While exploring in the arctic, no groups ever received news from elsewhere. Access was too limited.)

Peary was devastated and angry. Cook had already begun making speeches and accepting awards. The general feeling was that Peary had missed out, so he began talking to those who were said to have accompanied Cook on the trip. As he listened to their stories, Peary became suspicious. Perhaps Cook had not actually reached the North Pole.

Robert Peary got in touch with the National Geographic Society and asked that they undertake an investigation. Eventually, Cook’s claim was exposed as a hoax.

Peary Was Recognized; Henson Was Not

While Peary was celebrated with parades and special events, Matthew Henson spent the next several decades working as a clerk in a federal customs house. His role in history was largely erased, though in 1909, a group called the Colored Citizens of New York sponsored a dinner in his honor and presented him with a gold watch.

In his free time, Henson decided to write about his experience. In 1912,  A Negro Explorer at the North Pole  was published  (available online today at no charge through Project Gutenberg). The book expanded public knowledge of Arctic travel as he explained so much about what each journey entailed. From the book, we learn a great deal about the expedition, the Inuit people, and about both Peary and Henson—a remarkable add-on to an extraordinary career.

Peary provided a foreword for the book, though he seemed to use the space to cement his own legacy as the expedition’s mastermind rather than sharing the ultimate glory with the man who actually led the way.

Henson Acknowledgment Comes Slowly

Acknowledgment of Henson began to funnel in slowly. Until Peary’s death in 1920, Peary controlled the story, so there could be only one hero. After he died, other explorers who knew Henson and knew what the expedition entailed, began to step forward. In 1937, the prestigious Explorers Club invited Henson to become a member, and in 1948 the Explorers Club made him an “Honorary member,” a designation given to no more than 20 living members at a time.

In 1944, Congress awarded him a duplicate of the silver medal given to the rest of the Peary expedition. Ten years later, President Dwight D. Eisenhower welcomed him to the White House.

Just before his death in 1955, he was given an honorary doctoral degree from Howard University and Morgan State University.

Since that time, a survey ship has been named in his honor, and the National Geographic Society awarded Henson the Hubbard Medal to Henson posthumously. There have also been streets and schools and centers named for him.

Final Honor for Matthew Henson: Arlington Cemetery

When Robert Peary died in 1920, he received a burial befitting a hero. He was buried at Arlington National Cemetery. When Henson died in 1955, he was buried simply in a family burial plot at Woodlawn Cemetery in New York.

But in the 1980s, Professor Allen Counter of Harvard undertook a fight on behalf of the man he saw as the true hero. Counter had been studying the expedition and saw clearly that an injustice had been done to Matthew Henson. Henson’s contributions were not properly acknowledged. Professor Counter got permission from Presidnet Ronald Reagan to move Henson’s remains to Arlington Cemetery to be buried near Peary.

Henson and his wife Lucy were reinterred in Arlington with a monument that notes his accomplishments. Though Henson and Lucy never had children, Henson fathered a child with an Inuit woman, and that son and his children were present for the re-burial.

On Henson’s tomb is a quote from his autobiography: “The lure of the Arctic is tugging at my heart. To me the trail is calling. The old trail. The trail that is always new.”

Today, his monument stands directly next to Robert Peary’s, showing that on the ice, they were equals.

In the early 19th century, the American medical field was almost exclusively a men’s club. However, a few resilient women refused to accept the status quo, stepping forward as pioneers to carve out a new path.

Today, that landscape is shifting dramatically. While men currently account for 61% of active physicians in the U.S., women now make up the majority of medical students and residents. We are standing on the brink of a major demographic shift.

Below are the stories of six unsung women who challenged the establishment and moved the field of medicine forward.

Women Medical Leaders: Lydia Pinkham

Lydia Estes Pinkham (1819-1883) was one of the first people to take women’s health issues seriously.  She opened a closed door on the health matters that are unique to women. To help friends and neighbors, she created a vegetable tonic that helped with “women’s ills.” The family decided to package the product, and her sons soon took to the road to help place the tonic in stores.

Up until this time, women had no resources for health advice. Because Pinkham’s product became so popular, women wrote her for advice. Her responses were mostly common sense (eat well, exercise, and avoid the tight, restrictive clothing that was popular in the 19^th century). Eventually some of the advice was collected in pamphlets.

Though the compound has evolved to meet modern FDA standards, Lydia Pinkham’s Compound (now owned by Numark Brands) can still be found online and in major drug stores.

Clara Barton

Clara Barton (1821-1912) is well-known as the “Angel of the Battlefield”for her work during the Civil War. Later she brought the Red Cross to the U.S. and formed the American Red Cross.

Barton is less well-known for running the Office of Missing Soldiers. During the Civil War, the military had no official identification system. Sometimes soldiers caried a note in their pocket or wallet. Other times, their buddies buried them with something saying who they were.

Clara Barton set up an office in Washington, D.C. that operated from 1865-1867. She received 63,000 letters from families whose loved ones were missing, and she or her staff answered them all. They also managed to identify 22,000 soldiers.

Dr. Rebecca Crumpler

Dr. Rebecca Crumpler (1831-1895) was a Black woman who worked as a nurse for several white doctors in Massachusetts in the 1860s. She was so well-regarded by the men that they recommended her for admission the New England Female Medical College; she became the first African American to be admitted.  

Once she became a physician, she cared for Black patients in the Massachusetts area at a time when white doctors refused to treat people of color. At the end of her career, she wrote a home health guide for women about everything from nursing a newborn to managing cuts and wounds.  For the first time, households had a reliable reference as to how to manage various health issues.

Dorothy Harrison Eustis

Dorothy Harrison Eustis (1886-1946) was a dog breeder who became interested in training guide dogs for the blind.  While she was not a medical professional, her service to humanity was important to the health of people with impaired vision.

Eustis trained the first seeing eye dog brought to this country (1928). She went on to dedicate the rest of her life to breeding and training guide dogs. She and Morris Frank, the fellow who received the first dog she trained, created the school, The Seeing Eye. The school still operates today and continues to train and place dogs.

Dr. Virginia Apgar

Dr. Virginia Apgar (1909-1974) hoped to be a surgeon but she graduated from medical school during the Depression when men were taking all the available jobs.  She went into the relatively new field of anesthesiology. This placed her in delivery rooms where she had the opportunity to observe what happened with mothers and babies shortly after birth.

Apgar was alarmed that babies were only cursorily evaluated before being sent off to the hospital nursery. To solve the problem, she developed a method for assessing newborn health.  She originally called it the Newborn Scoring System, and it greatly changed the mortality rate for infants. The system is still used today but it is now referred to as the Apgar Score.  She then went on to run the March of Dimes.

Dr. Antonia Novello

Dr. Antonia Novello (1944–  ) grew up in Puerto Rico and became a physician. She is the first Latino to ever serve as U.S. Surgeon General. Appointed by President George H.W. Bush in 1990, she made many contributions to public health, among them working to improve medical care for women and minorities. 

Dr. Novello also targeted underage drinking and smoking, which involved a focus on cigarette advertising.  The cartoon image of Joe Camel was a particular target that she felt made smoking attractive to the young.

***

This information is based on my six-volume history of medicine as well as a speech I gave at Arizona State University for their Barrett Honors Program. If you’d like to see the full presentation given at ASU, click here:

Little-Known Women in Medicine Presentation with Kate Kelly.

Edmonia Lewis was a groundbreaking sculptor who achieved international fame during the 19th century. She was born to a Black Haitian father and a mother of Native American (Ojibwe) and African descent.

Sculpture was not a common art form in America at that time. The fact that Lewis achieved what she did is nothing short of remarkable.

Working almost entirely in white Carrara marble, Lewis’s style was neoclassical, but her subject matter often related to her upbringing. She created art forms that expressed her interest in social justice, racial identity, and gender. 

The artwork she left behind is extraordinary. Eight of her pieces are part of the Smithsonian collection.

Early Life

Edmonia Lewis (1844?-1907) and her family lived near Albany, New York, in what is now Rensselaer.  Her mother was a gifted craftsperson and weaver and may have inspired Edmonia’s love of beauty.

When Edmonia was a child, both parents died within a year of each other. She and her older half-brother were sent to live with her mother’s sisters. The women supported themselves by selling their hand-woven baskets to tourists visiting Niagara Falls and Buffalo.

Education

When her brother was old enough to leave home, he traveled West and had success as a gold prospector. Edmonia must have shown academic promise as he made an extraordinary offer for the era. He arranged to send Edmonia to college. 

She started at New York Central College, but it did not go well. Her brother suggested that she try Oberlin, a school that included women and people of color. 

Despite the school’s intended inclusiveness, Edmonia Lewis struggled. Other students mocked and shunned her. She was forced to leave before her last semester.

Learning from Abolitionists

She left the school with contacts that led her to a town just outside Boston (Woburn, Massachusetts) where many abolitionists lived. Self-taught sculptor Edward Augustus Brackett (1818-1908) was among the inhabitants, and she asked permission to study with him.

Written reports of her time there talked of how Brackett handed a lump of clay with an assignment: Make a foot (or a hand) and return for a critique. When she returned with what she crafted, he sometimes crushed it for her try again; other times, he offered advice and correction.

Edmonia Lewis came to the attention of journalist and social reformer William Lloyd Gararison who introduced Edmonia to people he thought might be future customers for her work. Union Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, the white lawyer who commanded the all-Black 54^th Infantry during the Civil War, was a revered member of the community. Shaw commissioned her to create a bust of him.

When the sculpture was completed, other people offered to buy it as well. Lewis created 100 plaster copies and sold them all. This brought her commissions for other projects. She did medallion portraits of John Brown and William Lloyd Garrison.

She longed to study in Rome where many sculptors had gathered. With the success of her recent sales, she was able to afford to become part of that community.

Moves to Rome

Lewis was intrigued by the neoclassical artwork being produced in Rome. The availability of her favored marble –Carrara marble—and the influence of the artists made a rich environment for her. 

She was also heartened to find a small group of women who were also working in marble. (American sculptor Harriet Hosmer was among them.)

Though the subjects of her art were still often American, they were likely to be dressed in classical robes and posed as if they were from the ancient world. She also sculpted mythical figures such as those of Hiawatha from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s famous poem.

Challenges for Women

Being a female sculptor was not easy. Most men hired laborers to shape a large piece of stone so that it’s more manageable for artistic development.  But both Lewis and sculptor Hosmer saw that wouldn’t work for them. The moment men were let in to the women’s studios, rumors would circulate.

Even when the marble mass weighted several tons, the women did all the work themselves.

Work Chosen for Centennial Exposition

One of Edmonia Lewis’s big successes was having her work accepted for the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia in 1876. The work chosen for the exhibition was The Death of Cleopatra.

In art at that time, the Egyptian queen was usually portrayed as a sleeping beauty.  Lewis rejected that scenario. She saw Cleopatra’s death—said to have come about from the bite of the asp (snake)– as much different scene.

As she worked, she developed a more realistic portrayal. Cleopatra’s head tilts back at an odd angle. One arm hangs down as if in sleep (or death). The other hand is in her lap, holding the asp that brought about her death. It is an intriguing depiction, particularly when compared with the views of a sleeping woman.

Once The Death of Cleopatra was delivered to Philadelphia, it became a “must-see” attraction. When the Centennial Exhibition ended, the sculpture was sent to be exhibited at an industrial show in Chicago.  

After that, the two-ton sculpture that stood about five feet tall was put into storage and disappeared from view.

Strange but True

While the exact sequence of what happened to the sculpture is not easy to trace, the next time The Death of Cleopatra is thought to have been on display was at a saloon near Chicago. (The price of the sculpture must have fallen to next to nothing.)

At the saloon, The Death of Cleopatra was purchased by a racetrack owner. The man had owned a beloved racehorse named Cleopatra. He saw the sculpture as the perfect way to commemorate his beloved horse. He had it transported to his racetrack in Forest Park, Illinois.   

For decades, the statue sat by the entrance to the racetrack. Thousands of people must have passed by it, never knowing what the sculpture was or who the artist was who made it.

When the racetrack went belly up, the property was turned into a golf course. Still Edmonia Lewis’s masterpiece sat there—unidentified and unappreciated. Eventually vandals came along who hacked away at it. It was also painted over several times.

By the 1970s, it was largely forgotten, sitting in a storage yard under a tarp.

Re-Found

In the 1980s, a Forest Park resident who was active with the local historical society was shown the sculpture. The man must have known something about art, as he sent a photograph of the piece to someone at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. What did they make of it?

Good fortune prevailed. Despite the damage and the added paint, a curator at the Met thought of contacting Marilyn Richardson, an Edmonia Lewis scholar. Robinson had spent decades unearthing more information about Edmonia Lewis. Robinson called in other experts, and they definitively identify it as the lost masterpiece.

In 1994, it was donated to the Smithsonian American Art Museum. Restoration experts began their work. Between the many years of exposure to Illinois winters and the destruction created by vandals, there was much to do.

Career Slows

Long before the disappearance of The Death of Cleopatra, Edmonia Lewis was struggling to get by, By the time the Centennial Exposition concluded, interest in the neoclassical style of art was fading. She wasn’t certain how to develop her work so that she could continue to sell what she crafted.  

She remained in Rome for a time, but then departed, intending to return to the United States.

No one seemed to keep track of her.  Later it was clear that she stopped off in London and never left. Years later, a researcher found a death certificate for her, noting her death in London in 1907.

This was a tragic conclusion for a remarkable artist who expanded the possibilities for artists from all backgrounds.  It is significant that eight of her works are owned by the Smithsonian. She will no longer be lost to time.

William Shemin’s heroic effort during World War I is a profound testament to valor, resilience, and the enduring American spirit. His heroism was undeniably documented by those who fought alongside him, yet the recognition he deserved was delayed for nearly a century by the systemic prejudice of an era that resisted embracing its Jewish soldiers.

Despite not receiving the Medal of Honor in 1919, Bill Shemin (1896-1973) remained fully devoted to the United States. He saw America through the eyes of his parents, who fled the brutal pogroms of Russia to find refuge and opportunity on American shores. To Shemin, military service was not just a duty, but a proud repayment to the nation that had welcomed his family.

He moved through the rest of his life with a quiet nobility, instilling a deep sense of hard work and patriotism in his children and grandchildren—several of whom followed him into military service.

Justice Served

His legacy eventually became a catalyst for justice. One of his daughters fought tirelessly for his record to be reconsidered for the honor he deserved. Eventually, the William Shemin Jewish World War I Veterans Act was passed by Congress in 2011. This landmark legislation ensured that military accomplishments of those who were discriminated against would be met with an open mind. This allowed Jewish veterans of the past to receive the honors they rightfully earned. It also brought about the review of other minorities. 

On June 2, 2015, William Shemin was honored posthumously with the Medal of Honor—the highest military honor in the country.

In addition, Harlem Hellfighter Henry Johnson, a Distinguished Service Cross recipient in World War I, received a well-deserved Medal of Honor in the same White House ceremony at which William Shemin was honored. The Shemin family has generously shared stories of Henry Johnson’s military experiences when Bill Shemin’s story has been being told.

William Shemin’s story was brought to my attention by a staff member at the Weitzman National Museum of American Jewish History where they have an exhibit about him. They also have an excellent online exhibit about Shemin’s life and military career. Click here for the online Shemin exhibit: Above and Beyond the Call of Duty.

Shemin’s Early Life

William Shemin’s parents came from Orsha (modern-day Belarus) in Russia.  The government of Tsar Alexander III urged attacks against the Jewish people. Because of the violence, families like the Shemins fled if they could.

When the Shemins arrived in America, they began life on the lower East Side where Bill was born. With the start of a family, the parents moved to Bayonne, New Jersey.

The suburban environment was a great place for raising children. Bill loved being outdoors and became a great athlete. When he was 15, he was recruited to play for the Bayonne Sea Lions, a semi-professional baseball team. He loved playing ball and appreciated that it was a job for which he was paid.

Forestry School

While he was still in high school, Shemin became aware of a new program that interested him. Syracuse University started a forest ranger school that was to be located in Wanakena, New York, in the heart of the Adirondacks. (The school would eventually become the New York State College of Forestry—the first ever in the country.) 

Shemin applied and was accepted to the school. When he arrived, the students were put to work building classrooms for the program. They literally helped build the school and its curriculum from the ground up. 

Shemin graduated in 1914 and worked for a few years as a ranger. The physical and mental toughness required for the job likely gave Bill Shemin the background for surviving and leading his men on the Vesle River in France.

World War I

When the United States ultimately entered World War I, Bill Shemin was still too young to enlist in the military.  At that time, the required age for military enlistment was 21. But Bill was determined to serve.

In a video interview, his daughter Elsie Shemin-Roth says that her father told his parents that if they didn’t support his enlistment, he would leave and never come home. With that, his father agreed to go with him to assure the enlisting officer that his son was eligible, having just turned 21.

With that, Bill Shemin joined the Army and was sent to basic training in Camp Greene, North Carolina. He was assigned to be a rifleman in Company G, 47^th Infantry Regiment, 4^thDivision (“the Ivy Division,”) with the American Expeditionary Forces in France.

At the time the Ivy Division arrived in France, the fighting was fierce. The Allied forces successfully pushed the Germans away from the Marne River, but by August 7, the Germans paused to dig in and fight. They were on bluffs above the north bank of the Vesle River. The town of Bazoches (by then in ruins) was just below.

The Germans knew the Allies would have to cross the river to attack them, so they maintained their position and hid machine gun nests within the ruins of Bazoches.  From the bluffs, they could disperse mustard gas into the valley with less risk to themselves. This dispersal worsened the situation for the Allies as this meant that troops could not fight without cumbersome gas masks.

Crossing the River

The order for the 47^th Infantry came down the line. They were to get across the river and take Bazoches. As the troops approached the river with the intent to cross it, they were pinned down along a wheat field that ran to the riverbank. During the daytime, soldiers crawled to avoid being seen, but the German machine guns fired relentlessly in a grazing motion, and sharpshooters excelled at picking out any sign of movement. 

The Ivy Division had no time to dig trenches, so the soldiers created “scrapes.” Each man had a tool that looked like a gardening trowel. They moved forward when they could. Then lying flat on the ground, they dug as quickly as possible.  Dirt that was removed was piled on the side of the scrape facing the river to help make each man less visible. The hope was to create something 6-12 inches deep. When the machine gun fire began again, they lay face down, hoping that they would not be hit.  They longed for the time and opportunity to dig foxholes but the best they could usually do was to dig scrapes.

They Persevered

Their goal continued to be to traverse the wheat field (about 150 yards—a football field and a half) to the riverbank and then to cross the river to take out the guns on the other side. Small groups were sent forward looking for the best route. (Not everyone could swim so the area needed to be clear enough that soldier could help soldier as they crossed.)

But the scouting  groups kept being shot down. Several times, Bill Shemin sprang up from his scrape and ran toward the river (and the German guns) to pull men back. One of the three men he saved during these days was Jim Pritchard who remained a lifelong family friend. Pritchard always told his own clan that if there hadn’t been a brave and heroic Bill Shemin, there would not have been any Pritchard descendants at all.

Shemin in Charge

By this time, German sharpshooters had picked off Company G’s officers. It was easy for the Germans to see the glint of their medals, and by this time, Company G was reduced to noncommissioned officers like Bill Shemin who was left to lead the rest of the platoon in a desperate swim across the river to the north side.

Eventually the Ivy Division got the platoon across the river. The Germans were well hidden within the rubble of Bazoches.  The Americans fought with valor, but the pressure was too great.  Bill Shemin saw that his group was greatly diminished in number, and the German onslaught was too powerful. He navigated the men back where they could secure themselves on the side of the Vesle River that they recently left.

Shemin was shot during the fighting in Bazoches, but he refused to stop. A machine-gun bullet pierced his helmet and lodged behind his left ear. His body was also riddled with shrapnel, but he kept going until he finally lost consciousness on the original riverbank where they started. His men got him to a location where an ambulance could take him to a field hospital.  

Hospitalization

Shemin spent the next few months in the hospital recovering.  When he was discharged, he still had shrapnel lodged in his back, and the hearing in his left ear was gone. He was offered an honorable discharge to return home, but Bill Shemin wouldn’t consider it. He wanted to return to his unit.

By this time, the Ivy Division had been sent to the Moselle River Valley in western Germany where they were charged with maintaining order. Shemin was reunited with them, and he was given administrative chores to accommodate his injuries. The men knew well Shemin’s exemplary record, and they respected him.

The “Almost Assignment”

In 1919, Europe was shattered by the war, but John J. Pershing, General of the Armies of the United States, was intent on maintaining order and showing that Europe could recover.  As he traveled through the war-ravaged territory, he requested an honor guard be formed (the “bravest of the brave”). He specified that the force should consist of soldiers who had been decorated with a high-level medal for valor.  This work involved precision drilling and standing as a symbol of American victory.

Shemin was the right height, and his Silver Star had been upgraded to a Distinguished Service Cross. He was a perfect candidate, and his unit put him forward for the honor. 

But when Pershing’s advance man reviewed the personnel records, the officer noted that Shemin was Jewish. Despite his heroics at the Vesle River and the bullet hole in his helmet resulting in lifelong injuries, Shemin was removed from the honor guard. The advance man wanted an “All American” image for the guard. 

Shemin was disappointed, but stayed focused on his military assignment with his men.

His Men Knew

His unit felt differently. Those with whom Shemin served remembered all he had done for them during the war. They knew he deserved the Medal of Honor.

To be considered for the highest military honor in the country, eyewitness accounts were needed as well as testimony from company officers. It was not hard to get men who served with Bill Shemin to speak up.

They knew they had been saved because this 19-year-old  soldier not only executed three rescues (bringing men back from open territory) but he stepped forward to command the platoon—first getting them across the Vesle River, and then spearheading a retreat when the German fighting became more than their surviving group could withstand.  His men wanted to ensure that the story of the “Jewish kid who saved the platoon” wasn’t lost to history.

Despite their efforts, Shemin was not awarded the Medal of Honor at that time. But thanks to those men, all the necessary documents were collected and were available when his daughter finally brought attention to the matter almost one hundred years later.

Back Home

Bill Shemin returned home and was determined to move forward with his life, despite a limp, shrapnel in his back, hearing loss, and what we now know as PTSD.

By this time, Syracuse University had expanded the forest ranger school and had a full-scale College of Forestry. Bill Shemin did not have a college degree, so he enrolled in the forestry program and was an asset to the school. He played varsity football and then lacrosse, graduating in 1923.

He married Bertha Schiffer and they raised three children: daughters Elsie and Ina and son Emmanuel.

His love of growing things continued, so he soon opened his own greenhouse and nursery in the Bronx. The name he chose referred back to his military service with the Fourth Division: Ivy Floral and Landscape (IV or Ivy).   Shemin’s business was very successful, and he became one of the main nurseries from which the parks in New York City purchased their plantings.

In addition to work and family, Shemin also dedicated his time to issues regarding his religion and the military. He was involved with both the Legion of Valor and the Jewish War Veterans. Many men needed assistance finding health care and employment, and Shemin was happy to help. He also stood strongly for Jewish rights.

The Impact of Elsie Shemin-Roth’s Mission

Like many soldiers who fought in World War I or II, Shemin had little interest in talking about his war experience. His daughter, Elsie Shemin-Roth, was always curious. She gained more information when fellow soldier Jim Pritchard, one of the men Bill Shemin carried to safety, came to visit. Pritchard was open about the fact that Shemin was denied the Medal of Honor because of his faith.

In a Legacy Video about her father, Elsie, who became a registered nurse and volunteered for overseas service during the Gulf War, describes how furious she was…and how puzzled she was that her father bore no anger.  But he told her: “War is not about medals. I love my country. I love my men. That’s all that counts.”

The Jewish WWI Veterans Act

In 2002, Elsie Shemin-Roth, saw that Congress had passed legislation that veterans of WWII, Korean, War, and Vietnam would be considered for honors posthumously if the family and friends could show that they were denied because of religion or race.

To Elsie, this was a no-brainer. Why not push for an amendment to the law that included World War I veterans?  She began working through friends, organizations, and her representatives from her Congressional district in Missouri, to push for an expansion of the law.

In 2011, with the passage of the William Shemin Jewish World War I Veterans Act (part of the 2002 National Defense Authorization Act), the Pentagon was compelled to go back and look at all Jewish veterans who received the Distinguished Service Cross or Navy Cross.

Fortunately, her father saved documentation from his war service, so he had the required testimonials from three officers and three enlisted men as well as reports from review boards of the era. 

Medal of Honor Awarded

On June 2, 2015, nearly a century after his acts of valor, Sergeant William Shemin was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor in a ceremony held in the East Room of the White House. President Barack Obama presented the nation’s highest military decoration to Shemin’s daughters, Elsie Shemin-Roth and Ina Bass, finally correcting a historical oversight rooted in the prejudices of the early 20th century.

Medal of Honor Citation

Sergeant William Shemin distinguished himself by extraordinary acts of heroism at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as a Rifleman with G Company, 2d Battalion, 47th Infantry Regiment, 4th Division, American Expeditionary Forces, in connection with combat operations against an armed enemy on the Vesle River, near Bazoches, France from August 7 to August 9, 1918. Sergeant Shemin, upon three different occasions, left cover and crossed an open space of 150 yards, repeatedly exposing himself to heavy machine-gun and rifle fire, to rescue wounded. After officers and senior noncommissioned officers had become casualties, Sergeant Shemin took command of the platoon and displayed great initiative under fire until wounded on August 9. Sergeant Shemin’s extraordinary heroism and selflessness, above and beyond the call of duty, are in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself, with G Company, 2d Battalion, 47th Infantry Regiment, 4th Division, American Expeditionary Forces, and the United States Army.

Amazing Accomplishment

The ceremony served as a powerful conclusion to Elsie’s fifteen-year crusade, ensuring her father’s legacy was officially etched into the highest level of American military history.

Also honored at the same White House ceremony was Henry Johnson, the Harlem Hellfighter who fought valiantly in France during World War I but was also overlooked. (The Shemin family graciously includes recognition of Henry Johnson at events when William Shemin is being honored,)

Among President Barack Obama’s remarks in the East Wing that day were these: “It’s never too late to say thank you.” 

The story of William Shemin remains important in 2025 because it serves as a powerful reminder of historical injustice and the ongoing need for equality and recognition within American society and its institutions.

Each year on December 31 at one minute before midnight (Eastern Standard Time), people from around the world welcome the new year when the shimmering 12,300-pound crystal Waterford ball drops slowly into Times Square.

As in most years, this year an estimated one million people are expected to be in Times Square, thought of as the “center of the universe” for this night. An audience of a billion more people are expected to watch via television or live-stream directly to their phones or other devices.

This year’s ball is a new one—the ninth iteration known as the “Constellation Ball.” It weighs more than 12,300 pounds and is covered with 5280 crystal discs (double the crystals used formerly). The discs are in three sizes and placed carefully to enhance the sparkle.  The ball is lighted by 32,256 Philips Luxeon LED lights.

The Double Drop

To kick off America’s 250^th birthday (the Semiquncentennial) there will be what is being called the “Double Drop.” At approximately 12:04 AM on January 1st, the ball will be relit in a unique red, white, and blue America 250 design. It will rise up the pole as pyrotechnics are set off to the playing of Ray Charles’s “America the Beautiful.” Those in Times Square will be showered with 2000 lbs of red, white, and blue confetti.

And for the first time in the 120-year tradition, the ball will make a second appearance. On July 3 at 12 midnight, the ball will drop in celebration of the Semiquincentennial.

The Party Tradition Begins

The first New Year’s Eve celebration in Times Square occurred in 1904, just after the New York Times relocated to a new building in what had then called Longacre Square. Publisher Adolph Ochs successfully pushed to rename the area for his newspaper. The triangular area where the new building sat at the intersection of 7th Avenue, Broadway, and 42nd Streets has since that time has been known as Times Square.

That year Ochs wanted to celebrate the new location and he threw a huge all-day street festival capped off with a fireworks display that night. An estimated 200,000 people were said to be in attendance.

Up until this time, many New Yorkers celebrated the new year at Trinity Church with the ringing of the bells. With Ochs sponsoring festivities in Times Square, customs changed, and Times Square was the place to be.

A few years later the city banned the use of fireworks. That led to the creation of a new tradition using lights. At the end of 1905, the “1905” lights were configured to read “1906.” These electric lights flashed from the tower of the Times building, reportedly visible from miles away. The Times tower was also festooned with electric streamers that lit the building’s four corners.

The Idea for the Ball Drop

The idea of a ball drop was first used by the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, England. In 1833, the Observatory installed a ball at the highest point in Greenwich Park. At 1 p.m. each day, the ball dropped to mark the time and allow the captains of nearby ships to set their chronometers. (When the telegraph was invented, telegraphers communicated the exact time to ships and businesses that could not see the ball drop.)

This tradition is the one mimicked by the dropping of the ball in Times Square.

The First Times Square Ball

The first ball made for Times Square was iron and wood and weighed 700 pounds; it featured light from one hundred 25-watt light bulbs. It was made by an immigrant metalworker whose company, Artkraft Strauss, took responsibility for the creation and dropping of the ball for most of the 20th century.

The ball must have been ordered during much more optimistic times. By the time it arrived for its use in 1907, its introduction was met with little joy and less fanfare. The “Bankers Crisis” occurred in October of 1907, causing a 50 percent drop in stocks at the New York Stock Exchange and leading to the spread of a nationwide recession.

There was no central bank to avert the disaster, and there was little public feeling of optimism in late December. (The following year, Congress undertook a study of the country’s financial structure that led to the creation of the Federal Reserve Bank.)

As a result, that first drop of the Times Square ball was met by a subdued crowd. The New York Times put a decent face on it with its report: “The dropping of the illuminated ball on the tower of The Times was awaited by an expectant crowd with upturned faces. The square was thronged. As the ball dropped on the stroke of twelve an involuntary cheer arose from many thousands.” (NYT 1-2-1908)

Ball Drop Cancelled Twice

During World War II, the United States was adhering to a wartime “dimout” to prevent enemy forces calculating where people might gather.  As a result in 1942 and 1943, there was no ball drop.

The tradition was so strong, however, that people still gathered in Times Square. At midnight during those war years, a minute of silence was observed followed by the ringing of chimes from sound trucks parked in Times Square.

In 2021, the ball drop occurred but public officials barred the public from coming into Times Square. There were a few groups of invited first-responders who had been heroic in their actions during the pandemic. Otherwise, everything was staged to be virtual. The sentiment was that there were too many bodies in morgues across the country.

By this year, community life has returned to normal. Security is always high for these occasions, but there is little doubt that people enjoy gathering in Times Square — or watching via television or the Internet — to mark the beginning of a new year.

To read about why we sing Auld Lang Syne on New Year’s Eve, click here.

Happy new year to you all.

Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918) is remembered as a patriot, a family man, a veteran, and a well-known poet. His poetry was so widely-read that when he was killed in World War I, it was front-page news across the nation.

Kilmer, a writer and editor, wrote his poem, “Trees,” in 1913. It was published in Poetry magazine that year. Its simplicity and sentiment became well-loved by the public, and the poem was published in many newspapers across the nation.

Today the memory of Kilmer has faded, but this year (2025) he was selected by the nonprofit, Operation Restore Decency, as a veteran to honor on Veterans Day. (Each year the organization selects a particular veteran to remember to personalize the sacrifice all veterans make in preserving peace and freedom for Americans.)

Kilmer’s Early Life

Alfred Joyce Kilmer was born in 1886 in New Brunswick, New Jersey. His father was a physician and worked as an analytical chemist for Johnson and Johnson Company.

Kilmer was the youngest of four children. He was named for two Episcopal priests at the Episcopal parish in New Brunswick. However, Kilmer disliked the name Alfred, and he comfortably took to being called Joyce.

The children attended Rutgers College Grammar School. Throughout his education, he was particularly drawn to working on school newspapers.  

When he graduated from high school, Kilmer accept a scholarship to Rutgers College. Harry J. Cargas, who wrote a biography of Joyce Kilmer, writes that Kilmer always struggled with math. In college, the Rutgers administration wanted him to repeat a year because of his math grade. His mother was adamant that Kilmer not be held back. She helped him transfer to Columbia University where the math requirement was less onerous at that time.

After graduation from Columbia in 1908, he married his college sweetheart, Aline Murray (1888-1941). They eventually had five children.

First Job

Joyce Kilmer’s first job was teaching Latin at Morristown High School in New Jersey. His dream was to be a writer, so nights and weekends, he wrote and submitted essays, poems, and book reviews to various publications.

In 1910, the Kilmers decided that living in New York City would offer him better career opportunities. They found an apartment on 184^th Street that was large enough to hold the family.

Once settled in New York City, Kilmer applied to several trade publications and landed a job at one of them. He could support his family and gain experience in publishing while still having time to submit articles to other publications.

By 1912, Kilmer was a special writer for The New York Times Review of Books and The New York Times Sunday Magazine. While it was not a staff job, he was in the office so much that editors assigned him a desk.

But the family needed more space at home. I n 1912, he and Aline moved to a house in Mahwah, New Jersey.   That year their daughter Rose was born and shortly after birth she was stricken with infantile paralysis, an illness with no cure at that time.

The Joyces felt helpless and turned to the church for comfort. Joyce Kilmer converted to Catholicism at this time. This would later influence his career as he obtained a strong following among Catholics.

Publication of “Trees”

In August of 1913, Joyce Kilmer’s poem, “Trees,” was published in Poetry magazine. Something about the verse caught the zeitgeist. People loved the simplicity and the sentiment of it. Newspapers purchased the rights to the poem, and it was read by many Americans.  Kilmer was soon invited to lecture across the country, primarily to Catholic audiences.  

The following year a book, Trees and Other Poems, was published. Soon three more poetry collections of Kilmer’s were published. He continued writing as well as traveling on the lecture circuit, though he tried to be home as much as possible because of Rose and the other children.

World War I

World War I, also called the Great War, began in 1914. The war began after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria while he was visiting Serbia. Austria blamed Serbia for the attack.  

On July 28, Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia, and the tenuous peace between Europe’s great powers quickly collapsed. Countries in Europe were picking sides. Within a week, Russia, Belgium, France, Great Britain and Serbia lined up against Austria-Hungary and Germany. World War I had begun.

The United States resisted entering into a conflict on the other side of the ocean. Then on May 7, 1915, Germany torpedoed the passenger ship, The Lusitania. Almost 1200 passengers were killed, including 128 Americans. Though the news was tragic and unsettling, President Woodrow Wilson obtained a pledge from Germany that no more civilian ships would be attacked.

But the country was changing. Joyce Kilmer was commissioned to write a poem about the sinking of the passenger ship. He anthropomorphizes the Lusitania but it works:

The White Ships and the Red

The pale green waves about her
Were swiftly, strangely dyed,
By the great scarlet stream that flowed
From out her wounded side.
And all her decks were scarlet
And all her shattered crew.
She sank among the white ghost ships
And stained them through and through.
…
“I went not forth to battle,
I carried friendly men,
The children played about my decks,
The women sang — and then —
And then — the sun blushed scarlet
And Heaven hid its face,
The world that God created
Became a shameful place!

This poem is credited with beginning to turn the tide as to whether or not the United States should enter World War I. 

Pledge Forgotten

By 1917, Germany had done away with any pledges to not torpedo other ships in the Atlantic. Soon merchant ships were being hit. In addition, the Zimmermann telegram was discovered. The telegram indicated that Germany and Mexico might work together to undertake war against the U.S. In light of these new events, the American sentiment about the war changed.

On April 6, 1917, the United States declared war on Germany. 

Kilmer Enlists

Only a few days after this declaration, Joyce Kilmer enlisted. As a 31-year-old family man, he was not required to join up, but Kilmer was a patriot and saw military service as an important duty.

Initially, he was part of the New York National Guard. In August the Guard unit was assigned to the 165^th Infantry Regiment (the “Fighting 69^th).  

Kilmer’s basic training was in Camp Mills in Garden City, Long Island. To avoid unnecessary time away from the family, he and Aline rented a home in Larchmont, New York. Aline was pregnant again, and Rose’s health continued to deteriorate. While the travel between Long Island and Larchmont was not easy, Kilmer could still get home now and then. 

Just before he was sent overseas, Rose died. Son Christopher was born shortly after. 

Fighting in France

The “Fighting 69^th” arrived in France and served as part of the 42^nd Infantry Division that became known as the “Rainbow Division.” (It was called the Rainbow Division because it was made up of National Guard units from 26 states.)

In March of 1918, the U.S. troops were under French command near Baccarat, France. They needed to learn about the geography of the area and gain experience in trench warfare. It was a rough beginning.

On March 7, 1918, a German shell caused the collapse of one of the dugouts in the wooded area known as the Rouge Bouquet. In the aftermath, almost two dozen members of the Fighting 69^th died.

Kilmer was aghast at what he witnessed. Within a few days he penned his poem, “Rouge Bouquet.”

In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet

There is a new-made grave to-day,

Build by never a spade nor pick

Yet covered with earth ten meters thick.

There lie many fighting men,

    Dead in their youthful prime,

Never to laugh nor love again

    Nor taste the Summertime.

For Death came flying through the air

And stopped his flight at the dugout stair,

Touched his prey and left them there,

    Clay to clay.

He hid their bodies stealthily

In the soil of the land they fought to free

    And fled away.

The poem concludes:

From the wood called Rouge Bouquet,

A delicate cloud of bugle notes

    That softly say:

“Farewell!

Farewell!

Comrades true, born anew, peace to you!

And your memory shine like the morning-star.

Brave and dear,

Shield us here.

Farewell!”

The poem was first published in Stars and Stripes, August 16, 1918. (Kilmer did not live to know of its publication.) It is now a tradition to read the poem at funeral services for fallen members of the regiment.

Tragic End for Kilmer

In April 1918, Kilmer was transferred to the military intelligence section of his regiment to work under Major “Wild Bill” Donovan. When Donovan’s adjutant was killed, Kilmer was selected to move up temporarily to aid Donovan. 

By the end of July, the fighting in the Second Battle of the Marne was fierce. Major Donovan needed someone to go on reconnaissance with him for the locations of the German machine gun nests that were wreaking havoc on the regiment. 

On July 30, Kilmer was called upon to accompany Major Donovan as they went out to explore where the Germans were positioned. Kilmer and Donovan left together, but each went a slightly different direction.

Donovan returned to headquarters but no one heard from Kilmer. When it seemed safe, another soldier left the trenches. He soon found Kilmer’s body. He was killed by a single gunshot. Military records place his death on the battlefield near the Ourcq River that fed into the village of Seringes-et-Nesles in northern France. 

Kilmer was buried in a cemetery near where he fell in the Ois-Aisne American Cemetery and Memorial. For his valor, he later was awarded the Croix de Guerre by the French Republic.

In the United States, a cenotaph was erected to his memory on the Kilmer family plot in Elmwood Cemetery in North Brunswick, New Jersey.

Due to Joyce Kilmer’s prominence, a memorial mass was celebrated at St.  Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City on October 14, 1918.  Other honors were to follow over time.

Many Honors Followed

People across the country thought well of Joyce Kilmer. His poetry and his honorable service to the country moved them.  On July 31 1931, a tree was dedicated in Joyce Kilmer’s memory along Literary Walk in Central Park.  The ceremony was held under the auspices of the Catholic Writers Guild, and Reverend Francis B. Duffy, chaplain of the Rainbow Division in which Kilmer Served, spoke at the memorial service.

Also in the early 1930s, the North Carolina Veterans of Foreign Wars unit aspired to establish a place of respite for its members. They finally selected a section of forest about 100 miles west of Asheville, N.C., in the Nantahala National Forest. The beautiful secluded area features old growth where hikers can enjoy poplar, hemlock, red and white oak, basswood, beech and sycamore.  It was officially dedicated in 1936, and today, the 3,800-acre Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest is now a part of the 17,000-acre Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness, adjacent to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Because Joyce Kilmer was so loved, there are still more memorials to him. You can find schools, parks, and even a highway rest stop (in New Jersey) named in memory of Joyce Kilmer.

What Tree Inspired “Trees?”

When people hear or read the poem, “Trees,” they often wonder what tree or trees Joyce Kilmer was inspired by when he wrote his poem.  Residents near Notre Dame and Rutgers, as well as people in Swansea, New Hampshire, and Larchmont, New York, have all considered that their trees might have been the inspiration. 

Alex Michelini, founder of the Joyce Kilmer Society of Mahwah, felt compelled to explore this issue. He and his wife traveled the country, visiting memorials to Kilmer and investigating any place that had archival information related to the poet. Ultimately, Michelini found relevant archival papers about Kilmer at Georgetown University.

Michelini knew that Kilmer always dated the notebooks in which he wrote his poems. When the Georgetown library brought forward a 1913 notebook with “Trees” in it, Michelini knew he found what he needed.

The poem was dated February 2, 1913, a time when the Kilmers had little ones and lived in the house in Mahwah, New Jersey. It became clear that the likely trees in question could be viewed from the upper story windows.  Michelini’s hunch was further supported when he located a letter written by Aline that described how the poem came to be written. Aline verified this story.

Kilmer and Poetry

Much has been written about the worth of Joyce Kilmer’s poetry. Was it any good? Many have made fun of the poems and their rhyming simplicity and common subjects. At Columbia University, there has long been an Alfred Joyce Kilmer Bad Poetry Contest. But is this fair?

Kilmer was born in 1886, at a time when simple poetry was appreciated as both popular entertainment as well as moral instruction. Many churches celebrated poetry, and schools often required students to memorize poems as we a way to learn to read, to focus on concepts, and for students to master the art of oral presentation. The fact that the subject matter in his poems is about simple things makes them all the more accessible.

The lovely aspect of a Kilmer poem was the succinct, if sometimes sentimental, presentation of a difficult theme. Look back at his poem about the tragedy of The Lusitania. By anthropomorphizing the ship, he moves the reader into the scene of the tragedy and explains the innocence of those who were killed. Not many writers can deliver a gut punch in a piece that takes just a couple of minutes to read.

Like all things, the concepts and theories behind what makes good poetry changes over time. After Kilmer, writers like Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot came forward with free verse on deeper subject matter, and newspapers no longer wanted or needed to publish simple verse.

But for his time, Joyce Kilmer was a hero. He helped people grapple with issues ranging from the simple to the complex. And when the U.S. entered the war, Kilmer, the patriot and family man, was right there to do his duty. 

****

2025

Joyce Kilmer was brought to my attention this autumn (2025) when LTC (retired) Debjeet Sarkar, M.D., and his organization, Operation Restore Decency publicized their Veterans Day event in Central Park.

Sarkar arranged for the Kilmer plaque at the foot of the tree along Literary Walk in Central Park to be refinished. He planned to hold a ceremony to rededicate it in Kilmer’s memory. Alex Michelini, founder of the Joyce Kilmer Society spoke about Kilmer’s life. Navy Veteran Stephen DeLuca, SJD, representing Taps for Veterans, played the Star Spangled Banner and Taps.  

It was a moving and truly special way to recognize Veterans Day with other like-minded people.

The 250^th anniversary of America’s independence—our Semiquincentennial– is just a few months away.

The celebrations are intended to begin on July 4, marking the 250^th year since the signing of the Declaration of Independence (July 4, 1776). But excitement throughout the country is building.

There will be events that come before July 4, 2026, as well as long after. The intent is to celebrate the remarkable founding of the country and to honor the contributions of all Americans who have participated in creating the country we now enjoy. Many events will also examine our future.

But What About the Confounding Name?

If you haven’t a clue about the complicated term for the celebration—the Semiquincentennial instead of simply calling it 250—here is the breakdown:  The word is built from Latin and is dissected this way: Semi– (half) + Quinque- (five) + Centum (hundred) + -ennial (relating to years)  Put together, it literally means “half of five hundred,” or 250 years.

Stories Told Throughout the Country

While the federal government is crafting the events they want to highlight, they will not be the only voice heard. Celebrations will come from thousands of places–decentralized local, state, and non-governmental initiatives that have important stories to tell.  

Nearly every state and territory has established its own commission (e.g., America 250 NC, America 250 CT). Many of these state bodies have explicitly adopted themes of inclusivity. Many of the events will reckon with the past, and tell a more complete narrative that incorporates local histories of women, Native Americans, and African Americans. They do so because that’s the only way to tell their area’s story in an appropriate way.

By listening to the stories that will be told across the country over many months, Americans will find a complete documentation of how our country was built—and how we can do better.

Where to Start

While many of the celebrations will emanate from the eastern seaboard—Boston, New York, Washington, and Virginia—there will be many places in your own region where you can go to learn local stories. And of course, websites from museums and various government entities will let you time travel from home.

For many, however, the lure of a trip to Boston or Philadelphia will be strong.  If you make it to Philadelphia, then you can’t go wrong with a visit to the Museum of the American Revolution, a relatively new (2017) addition to Philadelphia’s incredible offerings. 

The Museum of the American Revolution

A visit to the museum promises many treats. The exhibit halls are informative and visitors glide easily from room to room. They stand beneath the replica of the Liberty Tree, a touchstone where colonists gathered to debate British policy and how the residents should react.

The galleries explain the harrowing road to independence, including stories from diverse perspectives, including women and Native Americans. Throughout there are significant artifacts on display.

Most exciting and dramatic is the presentation of George Washington’s Headquarters Tent. The tent is presented in a dedicated theater where its story is told. The film explores Washington’s leadership and the tent’s role as his mobile office where he strategized, wrote dispatches, and made pivotal decisions throughout much of the war. As the story builds, so does the excitement about seeing the actual tent. When the curtain rises, the low lights reveal the beauty of the actual tent. It is truly awe-inspiring.

Museum Has a Very American Story

While the opening of the Museum in Philadelphia did not occur until 2017, the idea for the museum began more than 100 years before this. In the early 1900s, an Episcopal priest, Reverend W. Herbert Burk (1867-1933), became enthralled by the story of Valley Forge. It was just 25 miles from where his own church was located in Norristown, Pennsylvania.

Valley Forge, of course, was not a battlefield, but it played a significant role during the Revolutionary War.  This was the location where George Washington decided he and his troops could best survive the winter of 1777-1778. Unfortunately for all, the cold weather that year was particularly harsh. Most soldiers had inadequate clothing, there was sickness, and it was difficult to keep the men fed. The soldiers suffered terribly.

Because of Father Burk’s interest in Valley Forge, he visited the area whenever he could. In 1903, he gave a sermon to his congregation to commemorate Washington’s birthday. Reverend Burk introduced the idea that an Episcopal chapel should be built in Valley Forge in memory of George Wahington.

His suggestion was well received. Others in the congregation began to help out. Slowly, donations were given in nickels and dimes. As the small donations came in, construction began and the walls were built a “few feet at a time.”

Father Burk and others also began acquiring Washington-related artifacts, which was relatively easy given the Valley Forge location.

As the project went on, Burk established the Valley Forge Museum of American History and suggested a small display area be added to the chapel. 

Interesting Inquiry

As Burk continued to collect items, he received an intriguing inquiry.  Would he be interested in acquiring George Washington’s headquarters tent that was used at Valley Forge?

The tent was in the possession of Mary Custis Lee (1835-1918), great granddaughter of Martha Washington and daughter of Robert E. Lee.

Custis Lee was in the process of finding homes where her family’s inherited artifacts would be appreciated. Though she had higher bidders for the tent, Custis Lee favored Father Burk’s project at Valley Forge. She felt the tent belonged in the museum created to honor the Valley Forge encampment.

In 1909, she sold the main section of the tent to Reverend Burk for $5,000 to raise funds for Confederate widows.

But Where Had the Tent Been?

After the Revolutionary War, the tent was preserved by the descendants of Martha Washington, primarily the Custis and later the Lee families, at Mount Vernon and then later Arlington House. (Arlington House was built by George Washington Parke Custis 1781-1857).

During the Civil War, Union forces seized Arlington House, and the tent and other family belongings were confiscated. The tent and other items were stored at the U.S. Patent Office in Washington, D.C. (The home itself was claimed by Union soldiers and became Arlington National Cemetery.) 

In 1901 by order of President William McKinley, Washington’s artifacts were returned to the Custis-Lee family who had originally inherited them.  George Washington Parke Custis Lee was the rightful heir. However, Lee had no children, so his sister, Mary Custis Lee, took responsibility and determined the future of the relics.

When Burke took possession of the tent, he made it the centerpiece of the American history museum in the display area of the Washington Memorial Chapel. By this time, Burk established a Valley Forge Historical Society oversee the collection.

In 2000, the administrators of the historical society knew it needed to prepare to grow bigger. It created a nonprofit organization, the Museum of the American Revolution, to expand on ways to tell the story of the nation’s founding.

Plans Made for a Valley Forge Center

The original intent of the nonprofit was to build a museum in the Valley Forge National Historical Park. Planning started in 1999, but as so often happens, zoning and economic issues caused delays. Then a funder, H.F. Gerry Lenfest (1930-2018) joined the Board of Directors (becoming chairman) and pushed the project forward.

Lenfest bought 78 acres of property in Valley Forge. He felt that like Gettysburg, the area could offer a tourism and hospitality hub (a hotel, restaurants, a conference center, and of course a larger museum).  But residents objected to the commercial encroachment upon the area, and they battled successfully to keep the mixed-use project out of their community.

Lenfest had excellent contacts. He got in touch with then-governor Edward G. Rendell, and together they created a new plan. Lenfest exchanged the 78 acres he purchased in Valley Forge for less than an acre of property at Third and Chestnut Streets in Philadelphia. This was actually prime territory for visitors to the city. The location is in the heart of historic Philadelphia, steps away from Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell.

Excavation

One of the bonuses of the new site was that the city has stringent zoning and deed restrictions. An archaeological survey was required. The dig occurred over several months in 2014, and they found 82,000 artifacts that date to Philadelphia’s founding. These were wonderful additions to the collection.

The museum opened on April 19, 2017. The date was carefully chosen as it was the 242^nd anniversary of the Battle of Lexington and Concord.

Now, the museum is well-prepared to tell our country’s story on the occasion of the 250^th.

If You Can’t Get to Philadelphia…

Like most educational museums, the Museum of the American Revolution has an interesting and informative website. It tells a great deal about what visitors will see on their visit. It also provides photos and information about many of the objects on display.

But there is an added bonus to the site. Museum staff has assembled an extensive reading list that can be filtered based on age and interest of the reader (from children to scholarly adults).  In addition, the site includes short but helpful excerpts so that readers will get the sense of what each book is about.

Also included with the book lists are links to photos of items in the museum. This increases a reader’s knowledge about a particular topic. 

It’s a lovely way to “read into” the Semiquincentennial!

Journalist and activist Jovita Idar (1885-1946) lived and worked in Laredo, Texas, along the Mexican border. She is the equal of social activists and reporters like Nellie Bly (Elizabeth Cochran), Ida B. Wells, and California newspaper owner Charlotta Spears Bass. Idar deserves for more people to know her story.

In the early 1900s, Mexicans and Mexican Americans moved freely between the U.S. and Mexico, but as more Anglos moved into the region the fluid lifestyle became problematic. White families wanted possession of the towns and the countryside, and Texas Rangers were there to help reduce the presence of the Mexican Americans.

Jovita Idar’s father published a Spanish-language newspaper that stood up for the rights of the Mexican Americans who lived in the region.  In her mid 20s, Jovita Idar joined the paper and wrote about the injustices she saw. She brought attention to the unequal education delivered to Mexican American children because of segregation, and frequently had to write about lynchings of Mexicans. They occurred often—many times carried out by Texas Rangers.

Recognition of Idar arrived long after her death in 1946. In 2023, Jovita Idar’s face appeared on a newly minted quarter as part of the American Women Quarters Program.

Correcting the Record

Most biographies of Jovita Idar tell a story of her standing down violence at a newspaper office. The story goes that the Texas Rangers were sent to destroy the presses of the newspaper where she worked. Jovita was said to have held them off by standing in the doorway.  In 2025, historian and researcher Daniel Buck provided LMTOnline (an online Laredo news site) with his research findings. After combing through many stories published in newspapers of the era, he found no documentation of the incident. He determined that the story was apocryphal. 

However, there was definitely violence against Mexican American newspapers. In 1916, the district attorney of Webb County directed the Texas Rangers to arrest the editor of El Progreso where Jovita worked. The D.A. was incensed because the newspaper published editorials supporting the revolutionaries in Mexico.

After his arrest, the editor was released on bail but that was not the end of it.  A month later, a vigilante group kidnapped him and sent him over the border. Shortly after that, the vigilantes returned and destroyed the printing presses. Though there was plenty of violence in Laredo during those years, Jovita Idar’s story does not hold up after Daniel Buck’s research.

Early Life

Jovita Idar (1885-1946) was born in Laredo, Texas, the second of eight children. Her parents were of Mexican descent. Her father owned and published a Spanish language newspaper, called La Crónica.

The newspaper ownership gave the family status and knowledge. Her father was a strong advocate for civil rights and social justice. The Idar children knew that getting an education was a privilege not open to all people in Laredo. At home, they heard of many of the issues affecting Mexican Americans of Laredo, and many of them took it to heart.

The children attended Methodist schools. Jovita did well. At the age of 18, she graduated with a teaching certificate from the Laredo Seminary (also called the Holding Institute). She saw teaching as a logical way to improve the lives of those in her community.

In that era, schools in many parts of the country were segregated by race. The better-funded community school was for white children. Two other schools were designated for “other.” One building was for Black students; another was for Chicana (Mexican) children. Idar was hired to work with the Mexican students in Los Ojuelos, Texas, not far from Laredo.

When Jovita Idar arrived at her school, she found that the simplest needs—paper and pencils as well as books and desks—were not available for her students. What’s more, all classes were to be conducted in English. She saw a need—and the importance of—communicating in Spanish as well.

She remained at the school for a time, but she cast about for ways she could do more to help Mexican Americans.

Worried About Culture

In southwest Texas in the early part of the twentieth century, the era was sometimes called Juan Crow (like Jim Crow in the South). Signs at restaurants and bus stations often specified, “No Negroes, Mexicans or dogs allowed.” Law enforcement officers saw nothing wrong with intimidating Mexican Americans.

While all the discriminatory issues were important, Jovita Idar was particularly passionate about matters concerning children, gender equity (including suffrage for women), and the loss of the area’s cultural identify.

Her experience in the school caused her to worry about how the children would learn about the history and culture of Mexican Americans. The few books she was given for the classroom taught about George Washington and Abraham Lincoln.  She knew that to Tejanos (Mexicans who lived along the border before the modern border was established in 1840), there were people of Hispanic heritage who mattered, too. Her class needed role models from their own background.

Among the heroes she shared with her classes were Miguel Hidalgo (1753-1811) and Benito Juarez (1806-1872). Hidalgo was a Catholic priest who is considered a founding father of Mexico. Juarez was the first democratically elected president (1858) and the first indigenous president to govern Mexico.

Tensions

As more Anglos moved to Laredo, they wanted to take over more land. Tejanos had long lived in the area, but protests were met with force. Lynchings were common. Between 1914-1919, Texas Rangers were responsible for at least 5000 deaths of Tejanos—many of them by lynching. It wasn’t just a Southern thing.

Needed New Path

She finally decided that returning to the family newspaper, La Crónica, made the most sense.Perhaps if she wrote about the issues affecting Mexican Americans, she could help bring about change.

Often writing under a pseudonym, Jovita Idar wrote about everything from the poor living condition of Mexican American workers to discrimination in schools and society in general. She often had to document stories about lynchings of Mexicans along the border.

Organized for Fair Treatment

In 1911, Jovita and her family organized El Primer Congreso Mexicanista (the First Mexican Congress).  The intent was to pull together men and woman who advocated for fair and equal treatment for people of Mexican heritage. Those who attended were government leaders, activists, and journalists from the area.

She also advocated for women and the vote. This was a cause her father also supported, and as time went on, Jovita was able to form an organization to push for the cause.

As a result of this first Congress, Jovita Idar pulled together a logical outgrowth that helped put forward women’s causes: La Liga Femenil Mexicanista (League of Mexican Women). She became the first president.  Most of the members were working-class women. Because people from both sides of the border continued to freely interact, the League worked to serve populations in both Laredo and its sister city, Nuevo Laredo.

The league fought for the rights of all Mexican Americans but with a particular emphasis on issues pertaining women and girls. They did everything from run clothing drives to help the community to hosting cultural events to celebrate Mexican heritage. When they could, they established free education for Mexican children. Idar was quoted as saying, “When you educate a woman, you educate a family,”

The Mexican Revolution

In 1910, the Mexican Revolution to overthrow the government of President Porfirio Diaz started.

Economic inequality and political repression were ongoing in Mexico, but when Diaz imprisoned his main opponent so that Diaz could declare himself the winner of the latest election, outright rebellion ensued. Many residents of Nueva Laredo (in Mexico) moved to Laredo (U.S.) and citizens of the area couldn’t help but be involved.

Some of Jovita Idar’s friends began crossing the Southern border to help care for the wounded. They declared themselves La Cruz Blanca (the White Cross). Jovita Idar left the newspaper and joined the group. She helped with recruitment of more people, but she also stepped in to help care for the injured.

In 1914, Jovita returned to Laredo and accepted a job writing for El Progreso. The newspaper took a strong stand in favor of the revolutionaries in Mexico. It was here that the editor was kidnapped and the printing presses were destroyed.

In November 1916, Jovita Idar founded a weekly newspaper, Evolución, which operated until 1920.

Marriage

In 1917, Jovita married Bartolo Juárez, a plumber and tinsmith. They moved to San Antonio in 1921. Her activism continued there. The married couple founded a Democratic Club and became political leaders. She also helped establish a free kindergarten and volunteered as a Spanish translator at the county hospital.  Much of her work involved helping new immigrants become naturalized citizens.

By the 1940s, Jovita Idar was sick with advanced tuberculosis—a disease for which there was no cure. In 1946, she died of a pulmonary hemorrhage.

Remember foldable paper road maps?

For some of us, the thought of foldable highway maps conjures memories of family road trips where the words, “Let’s stop for a map,” were spoken whenever the family drove into unfamiliar territory.  Parents studied the map for route guidance and then passed the map to those of us in the back seat who yearned for something new to look at during long drives.

Early Drivers Didn’t Need Maps

When people first began driving, there was little need for route guidance. Automobiles were very simple, and people primarily drove around the towns and countryside they knew well. 

But by 1915, the U.S. had more than two million cars, and motorists were beginning to drive from town to town. Maps were needed but they weren’t easy to come by as mapmaking required a great deal of time-consuming and tedious work.

Bicycle Maps Came First

The bicycle craze of the late 19^th century put lots of Americans on the road. As riders ventured farther away from their home bases, bicycle maps came in handy. But most of the information wasn’t transferable to maps for automobiles.

Cyclists could navigate narrow passageways or alleys, and if necessary, riders could carry their bikes across shallow streams. Automobiles could only travel on bigger roads and while they could drive through small rivulets of water, they needed to be careful not to get stuck in mud. Tires on cars made in the early part of the century did not give traction. 

And since there was no master plan for roadways, mapmakers had to create maps on an as-needed basis.

Road Markers Were Also Rare

Often, the best way to navigate was to stop frequently and ask a local resident for directions. Because road markers were rare, a local person’s guidance would likely be punctuated with information about making turns on the street “where the café is” or after “crossing the bridge in the middle of town.”

Many roads had no names at all, and in some parts of the country, roads changed names as they continued into a new county. For that reason, guidance was complicated.

Company-Sponsored Route Guides

Eventually companies like car manufacturers and travel associations began creating “route guides” with advertising placed prominently throughout.  

For a person to make a guide required that they have an automobile with a reliable odometer. Distances needed to be accurate. At least two people needed to be in the car traveling the route. The driver noted landmarks and specific mileages while the passenger carefully wrote down the directions. Andrew McNally II, son of a founder of Rand McNally & Co. created the Rand McNally Chicago to Milwaukee Photo-Auto Guide of 1909 on his honeymoon with the aid of his new bride.

With these early guides, the directions were often similar to what a local person would tell a driver. “After 2.7 miles, make a right turn at the café with the red roof.” (If the café burned down, the guidance became unclear or confusing.) Better guides documented the more complex turns with photographs.

Because it was clear that guideposts were needed, some guidebook makers began erecting their own signs along popular routes. 

Solutions Begin

By the 1920s, there were more roads, more markers, more cars, and more confusion.

Wisconsin was the first state to come up with a solution. In 1920 they established a method for numbering their roads. Soon other states began to follow their lead. By the end of the 1920s, almost 76,000 miles of U.S. roads had been given a number designation.  Odd numbers were used for north-south roads; even numbers were selected for roads running east and west.    

Maps as Promotional Tools

During the 1910s, gasoline companies began opening service stations so drivers could buy gasoline. The Gulf Refining Company established one of the nation’s  first drive-in gasoline service stations in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  (Up until this time, drivers purchased gasoline in five-gallon containers. (See “When Gasoline-Powered Cars Were First Used, Where Did They Get Gasoline?”) 

Advertising man William Akin suggested an idea for promoting these businesses. He told Gulf to buy and give away local maps for each area where they had stations.  By 1920, Gulf was giving away 16 million maps of the eastern U.S.  Soon other gas companies followed. 

But as the years went by, the availability of free road maps at gas stations declined. Drivers were generally commuting on a well-known route and didn’t need a map. And because of the oil embargoes in the 1970s, oil companies cut back on promotional items. A free map was no longer going to inspire consumer loyalty.

Maps continued to be made available at gas stations and bookstores, but they had to be paid for. 

Today we rarely think to take a map with us. Though identifying a location on a map is enormously helpful in getting us oriented, today most people are perfectly comfortable simply following the GPS technology.    

A Different Map: Lowell Thomas War Map

During World War II, Americans were desperate for more information about the war, about the troops, and about where their loved ones might be. As a result, maps of the areas where the fighting was taking place were created and distributed in the same manner as road maps. 

Sunoco was the sponsor of a newscast hosted by Lowell Thomas (1892-1981), so he became the “face” of the Sunoco war map published in 1942.  The maps unfolded to reveal four full-color maps on two sides of a 20 x 26-inch sheet. 

Over time the war maps spawned offshoots. In 1944 Sunoco distributed an “air lanes map” with pictures and descriptions of American, British, Russian, German, and Japanese airplanes.

Lowell Thomas was the perfect guide for Americans following the war. He was a pioneer in journalism and was among the first to report from the battlefield during World War I, and he was the first to enter Germany after the war to gather eyewitness accounts. His Sunoco-sponsored program began on NBC in 1930 but soon switched to CBS. Prior to 1947, he was an employee of Sunoco, not NBC or CBS.  Until 1952 he was also the voice of Movietone News until 1952. 

Fast Facts about Early Roads

• The first pedestrian safety island was created in San Francisco in 1907.
• The first road to have a painted midline dividing the lanes was a road in Michigan, and the line was painted in 1911.
• The first electric traffic signal was used in Cleveland in 1914. See “Garrett Morgan: Successful Inventor of Safety Hood/Traffic Signal.”
• The first “no left turn” sign was put up on a busy street in Buffalo in 1916.
• The first school safety patrol program began in St. Paul, Minnesota, in 1920.

Ed Sullivan was a legendary showman who grew up in Port Chester, New York. His career as a long-time television host came about from hard work and good luck. His background taught him to open doors to those—particularly African Americans—who lacked access. In the process, he changed American entertainment.

When The Ed Sullivan Show was at its height, between 45 and 50 million people tuned in weekly. They saw live performances of the biggest musical acts (including Motown singers), performances of numbers from Broadway musicals, an array of stand-up comedians, magicians and jugglers, as well as ventriloquists, dog acts, Chinese tumblers and drill teams.

Audiences loved the variety, and The Ed Sullivan Show had it all.  

Early Life

When Edward Vincent Sullivan was born in 1901, the family lived in Harlem. The neighborhood was a mixture of Irish and Italian immigrants. Ed was a twin, but his brother, Danny, died before their first birthday.

When another Sullivan child died in infancy, their father Peter Sullivan decided to move the family out of the city. He chose Port Chester, New York, to be their new home. It was a small village at that time. The town still relied on a local blacksmith as well as a doctor who made house calls via a horse-drawn carriage.

Ed was the middle child of the surviving five children, and in his autobiography, Always on Sunday, he wrote: “I still recall the excitement of Helen, Charles, and me en route to Port Chester, where we first saw cows grazing in the country fields.”

House Filled with Music

The Sullivans rented the top floor of a two-story house on Washington Steet. The entire family loved music, and someone was always playing the piano or singing. A phonograph was a prized possession; the family loved playing all types of records on it.

Ed’s mother hoped Ed would master an instrument. Each week if she could spare the change, she gave him money for piano lessons. Ed dutifully left the house, but he went to the nickelodeon near Liberty Square where he could watch short films instead.

His father Peter worked as a customs agent, but with five children, everyone needed to contribute. When Ed was still in grammar school, he and his brother Charles would meet after school and walk the three miles to the Apawamis Club in Rye, where they worked as golf caddies for 35 cents a round.

Loved All Sports

Ed and his siblings attended St. Mary’s Catholic School and then Port Chester High School. Sullivan was a gifted athlete, earning 12 athletic letters in high school. He played halfback in football, and he was a guard in basketball. In track, he was a sprinter. With the baseball team, Ed was catcher and team captain, and he led the team to several championships.

Baseball made an impression on him that affected his career as well as the culture of America. Sullvan noted that in suburban high school sports integration was taken for granted.

“When we played against teams in Connecticut, they, too, had Negro players,” he wrote. “In those days this was accepted as commonplace; and [that explains] my instinctive antagonism years later to any theory that a Negro wasn’t a worthy opponent or was an inferior person. It was just as simple as that.”

Enlisted for War

With the U.S. entering World War I, Sullivan, only 16, applied to the local draft board. He was turned away for being too young.  Sullivan was determined, so he took a train to Chicago, figuring no one would know him there. Unfortunately, recruiters in Chicago also required proof of age. He couldn’t afford a train ticket home, so he got a job as a busboy to decide on his next plan. Six months later, he wrote his brother asking for train fare to return to Port Chester.

Back to High School

He returned to high school and continued to play sports. He also wrote about them for the school newspaper. During his senior year, he contacted the local paper, The Portchester Daily Item, and asked to write a column on high school sports. Sports were big in town, so the editor agreed. Sullivan was paid on a per column basis.  

After high school, he continued to write for the Item.

Newspaper Career

In 1919 he moved to The Hartford Post and then on to The New York Evening Mail. When that paperclosed, Sullvan worked for a succession of newspapers as well as the Associated Press. When he was hired to write a sports column for The Evening Graphic, he was in good company as show business journalist Water Winchell worked there. 

When Winchell was hired by the larger New York Daily Mirror, the Graphic asked Sullivan to take over Winchell’s show business column.

Always Looking for Extra Money

Newspaper writers were not well paid, so they all scrambled for extra work. Ed Sullivan wrote screenplays for B-level movies at one time, and then in 1942, he started doing a radio show, “Ed Sullivan Entertains.” 

Following in Walter Winchell’s footsteps, Sullivan began recording his shows at the El Morocco night club. (Winchell headquartered at the Stork Club.)

Sullivan’s column, “Little Old New York,” was eventually picked up by the New York Daily News, where he stayed for 40 years. Even after he started appearing weekly on television, he continued to write for the newspaper. His last column appeared in the paper the day before he died.

More Side Gigs

Because of his contacts with entertainers he interviewed for print and on his radio program, Sullivan was often asked to produce vaudeville shows. He had a good eye for talent and was always on the lookout for new acts. He stayed in touch with the entertainers in Harlem as he knew theater producers there were always on the cutting edge of what was popular.

For a good number of years, the New York Daily News sponsored a huge charitable show, the Harvest Moon Ball, held at Madison Square Garden. Sullvan served as master of ceremonies and was in charge of talent procurement.

TV Arrives

In 1947, he was preparing for that year’s Harvest Moon Ball, and CBS decided to televise the event. Television was in its infancy, and this was CBS’s first remote broadcast. It went well.

One of the executives liked Sullivan as M.C. and hired him to host a show CBS wanted to launch called “Toast of the Town.” Sullivan was 46 when he first hosted the program. CBS knew that as more Americans bought televisions, the audience would grow, and it did.

Sullivan served as both host and impresario for “Toast of the Town,” nailing down the guests he wanted to have on the air. Sullivan clearly had an eye for what people liked, and he soon became known as a star maker.

In 1955, the title of the show was changed to “The Ed Sullivan Show.”

Ultimately Sullivan’s show ran successfully for 23 years—1948-1971– what Sullivan pronounced as “a rillllly big shew!”

Cultural Issues Arise

From Elvis’s swiveling hips to the Black performers that were featured on Sullivan’s show, television advertisers were always nervous. They kept tabs on what CBS was going to do about the performers. Camera angles could help with appearances by Elvis, but with the Black performers, it was a different matter. Some advertisers didn’t want these performers on the program at all, fearing that television sets across the South would click off. But as the network saw how popular the acts were, they took a new stance: Sullivan should keep his distance—he should not shake hands with the men or kiss the ladies.

Ed Sullvan was having none of it. He knew from his experience in high school athletics, that people of all ethnic backgrounds were the same. What’s more, many of them helped him out when he was producing his local charity events. He wasn’t going to cut them out now.

According to a recent Netflix documentary, Sunday Best, Sullivan also had a hunch that great music and incredible talent would appeal to viewers. Even people who marched against integration might take a few minutes to see who was appearing on the show. The performers were electric and the music was catchy…it was hard to resist.

Sullivan had everyone from Nat King Cole and the Supremes to Pearl Bailey on his program. These performers got the same handshake or kiss on the cheek as any of the white performers. By giving Black talent equal status with white, Sullivan was instrumental in diversifying American entertainment.

Sunday Night

The show was broadcast from CBS Studio 50 at 1697 Broadway at 53^rd Street. Eventually the show settled into its long-running time slot—Sunday night from 8-9 ET.

When asked by a reporter to explain his success, Sullivan shared his secret: “Open big, have a good comedy act, put in something for children and keep the show clean.” In short, he believed in something for everyone.

He also gave credit to the medicine men who used to stop in Port Chester to peddler their wares: “Those medicine men were my first contact with great showmen. They had pace and great authority with an audience.”

Did any of the acts ever miss? Of course there were a few, but Sullivan’s most resounding failure was when he tried to introduce opera to middle America. Families either changed channels or quickly turned off the set.

Elvis Presley

Steve Allen actually was first to bring Elvis Presley to television, and when Allen’s show beat Sullivan in the ratings, Ed was on the phone to Presley’s manager within 24 hours.

The Beatles, however, were all Sullivan. They came directly from England, making their American debut on Ed Sullivan’s show on February 9, 1964. The chaos of the teen girls, both in and out of the theater made for an event that few people alive at the time will forget.

Sullivan became powerful with his bookings and sometimes specified what songs even the big-name performers (including Buddy Holly, Bob Dylan, and Bo Diddley) were to perform. Those who defied him found they sometimes weren’t invited back.

Unusual Host and Star

As a television host, Sullivan received mixed reviews. He was an awkward man, a situation partly caused by injuries caused by a serious car accident. His sternum and ribs were crushed inward, and his front teeth were knocked out. His movements were described as “wooden.” He also sometimes garbled his introductions: One night he announced, “Right here in our audience, the late Irving Berlin.” 

In 1971, CBS was in search of a younger audience, and they cancelled The Ed Sullivan Show.

Ed Sullivan felt betrayed and refused to do a final show that season. However, he and CBS finally agreed to a truce. Sullivan subsequently produced and hosted a number of specials.

Personal Life

On April 28, 1930, he married Sylvia Weinstein. They had one daughter, Betty, who married Sullivan’s producer, Bob Precht.

For many years Ed and Sylvia lived in the Delmonico Hotel at 59^th and Park Avenue in New York City. He called Sylvia after every show to get her comments.

While Sullivan’s life was mostly centered in Manhattan, in later years he returned to Port Chester to help with local benefits. In 1965, he was honored by the village with Ed Sullivan Day.

Sullivan died of esophageal cancer (age 73) on October 13, 1974, at New York’s Lenox Hill Hospital. His funeral, attended by 3000 people, was held at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He is entombed in a crypt at Ferncliff Cemetery in Hartsdale.

Ed Sullivan brought popular culture to all of America at a time when families were excited to gather around the living room television set just to see what Mr. Sunday Night had to offer. People came to know of and appreciate songs from a wide variety of performers.