Junipero Serra, Alexander Hamilton, and Presidency Obsession

Fr. Junipero Serra in Statuary Hall
Image via Architect of the Capitol 

Today is the feast of Blessed Junipero Serra, the 18th century Spanish Franciscan priest who established the California missions. Fr. Serra will have another big day this fall, when Pope Francis canonizes him while visiting Washington, DC. This honor has sparked new interest in his story, including some protests decrying the negative medical and social effects missionaries had on native peoples. The story of Serra's missionary work is indeed complicated, as he both imposed harsh physical discipline but also advocated for native people against abuse by Spanish soldiers. Even if his evangelization techniques were heavy-handed, it’s undeniable that Serra began the legacy of Hispanic peoples in California that continues to this day.

Despite all this publicity, a memorial of Serra is now at risk. California’s legislature is considering a motion to remove Fr. Serra's statue in the US Capitol and replace it with one of astronaut Sally Ride. While the first woman in space deserves recognition too, the statue swap proposal comes at an unfortunate time, particularly since Serra's canonization will coincide with the first trip to America by a Latino pope, and the first time a pope will address Congress. 

The Serra statue situation is not unlike the recent news about Alexander Hamilton’s place on the ten dollar bill. Hamilton is enjoying a surge of recognition too, as the star of a smash hit musical opening on Broadway later this month. Thanks to new biographers, he’s moving out of the obscure historical shadows. As the first Secretary of the Treasury and architect of the US financial system, his face on money seems like an obvious choice. But now he is being removed to make room for the first female figure on American paper currency.

Debates over Serra and Hamilton’s small monuments make it seem like gender recognition in history is a zero-sum game. If we honor significant women, particularly modern ones, that means we must demote the contributions of past centuries’ “great men”. I argue that there is room for both. Sally Ride and Harriet Tubman need not compete with Serra and Hamilton. The real rival here is the over-publicized presidency. Both men are being obscured because Americans like to go with the obvious and recognize presidents over and over again.

Take Serra’s spot in the National Statuary Hall Collection, for example. The collection was established in 1864 as a way to use to the vacant space of the old House of Representatives chamber. Each state could submit two statues of notable citizens. The early 1880s - 1920s roster consisted of Revolutionary War figures, settlers, Civil War soldiers, and now obscure 19th century politicians, plus the odd inventor or two. As the ranks have grown, statue displays have spread throughout the Capitol complex. When I worked the US Capitol Visitors Center, the different figures provided a fun scavenger hunt and conversation starter with visitors.

Since 2003, states may swap out existing statues for new honorees. Subjects must be deceased, and states are responsible for funding and commissioning new artwork. One reason for this new rule was to help diversify and update the collection a bit, swapping out the 19^th century politicians no one remembered anymore.

Unfortunately, many states that have changed their statues have gone with the obvious option of, you guessed it, presidents. Dwight D. Eisenhower of Kansas and Gerald Ford of Michigan have joined Statuary Hall. California made a similar switch in 2009, swapping Unitarian abolitionist Thomas Starr King for President Ronald Reagan. That left Fr. Serra's 1931 statue as the only potentially free California spot. So instead of Ride joining Serra to complete California’s exploratory legacy, Statuary Hall will become more like the greatest hits of the 1980s.

Similarly, Alexander Hamilton is on the chopping block because the Treasury is too attached to President Andrew Jackson. A recent grassroots movement called to replace Jackson’s image on the twenty dollar bill with a notable historical women. There was even a poll that selected Harriet Tubman. Instead, the Treasury has decided that women are only worth half that, and offered us a bureaucratic accountant instead of a controversial chief executive.

It’s troubling that our national memory can trend toward simply the most famous, the most powerful. This implies that we’re only smart enough to read history as an “icons” roundup in People Magazine. One of my favorite confused tourist stories was the time I overheard a woman explaining the World War II Memorial while walking down the National Mall. She pointed to the group of columns symbolizing the sacrifices of soldiers from every state and said "Look! That's where all the presidents are buried!" Facepalm.

In my opinion, the Statuary Hall collection is best as a federal pantheon of "lay" citizens and the legislators who served them. The Capitol represents the legislative branch and is meant to be the "house of the people," not a shrine to unilateral power. Likewise, our money isn’t exclusively for presidents. Hundred dollar “Benjamins” celebrate an inventor, author, and diplomat who never lived in the White House.

Later this week we’ll celebrate America’s independence, a feat that was the work of many people. It would not have happened without the George Washingtons and Thomas Jeffersons, but neither would the Revolution have made it without the lesser-known men and women who supported their ideas and did the hard, daily work of fighting for freedom. We don’t have a king on our money, and there is room for all of us in America’s story. 

Can We Talk About White Christmas?

"We're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny F*%*ing Kaye!" - Clark Griswold in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

Happy New Year! I hope you are having a very merry Christmas season. (It's not over until Epiphany so this post isn't too late.) While there are plenty of great movies for this time of year, the one I can't miss is 1954's White Christmas. Maybe it's because it was one of the first movies I ever saw; it was one of the few VHS tapes my parents owned back in the 80s when you could rent a VCR. It just hasn't been a real holiday season until I've heard the "Sisters" song and gotten choked up at the ending's surprise reunion.

"Judy, we need to discuss your turtleneck addiction."

Over the years I've noticed and enjoyed different aspects of the movie. As a little girl, I loved Vera Ellen's style as Judy: girlish puffy sleeves, twirly skirts, and blonde ponytails. Now, I much prefer Rosemary Clooney's Betty and her womanly evening gowns. That black mermaid one at the Carousel Club would look amazing on any red carpet.

During my most recent viewing, I realized that General Waverley's backstory doesn't really make sense. His retirement from active duty in the middle of a campaign hardly seems practical at a time when the United States was waging war on two continents. Did he just age out or had he run afoul of someone at the Pentagon? Maybe his supervisors didn't approve of his performing arts sponsorship that inspired many of his troops to sing, tap dance, and later dominate show business on Broadway and in television.

I also realized how the movie's 1954 setting hints at an American culture in transition. Characters are feeling their age with declining eyesight and pants that don't fit. One song jokes about wishing for the simpler times of just following army orders. The "Mandy" number expresses nostalgia for the jokes and songs of minstrel shows, trying to adapt America's favorite racist entertainment into a technicolor cartoon of reds, purples, and greens. Bob Wallace and Phil Davis' production even throws shade on Vera Ellen's former co-star Gene Kelly, griping about all the modern "Choreography" supplanting traditional hoofers. They're following the old "Let's put on a show to save the day!" trope, but they're not kids anymore and post-war life still has challenges.

In First Things last month, Peter Leithart suggested that White Christmas also captures America's spiritual decline.

"In place of Jesus, we get a mash of mid-century Americanism ... There are good, altruistic deeds, done out of loyalty to an old friend, and from beginning to end the film glows with the warmth of post-World War II patriotism. If there’s a faith here, it’s a gospel of small-town American and faith in the decency of the American military ... Whatever one thinks of those sentiments, they don’t constitute a gospel." 

Well, sure it's not a gospel. The title song is just the results of generic sentiment + celebrity vocalist = hit single. If you base your life priorities off a Danny Kaye movie you'll go as nuts as Clark Griswold did. But there are plenty of prior Christmas songs and movies about revelry rather than baby Jesus, including White Christmas' prequel, Holiday Inn. There's no reason to single out this one movie.

In fact, White Christmas's lack of gospel pretense is what makes me find it such a refreshing holiday staple. Too often, made-for-TV Christmas movies try offer some vague inspirational lesson, so most are a tired reworking of A Christmas Carol. This secular conversion template features a workaholic (shrewish single woman or neglectful family man) who undergoes some sort of supernatural upheaval and thus embraces kindness and sacramental turkey dinners. If you just "believe" and listen to that kindly senior citizen's advice, Santa will bring you true love and that greedy businessman will stop harassing your quirky neighbors. While certainly fun, this snow-covered fairy tale shtick is a poor substitute for the Incarnation. It attempts to offer meaning through the "spiritual but not religious" archetype.

White Christmas, on the other hand, is simply fun with a dash of reality. While Bob Wallace does eventually put aside his workaholic habits to pursue romance with Betty, a magical wish doesn't make it happen. He has a successful career, but he uses his business and connections to help an old friend. When he asks people to help him, he acknowledges that not everyone might be able to change their holiday plans. (Although how did he charter those special Christmas Eve trains? That's magic.) Nobody has to summon an angel or sing a special song to make it snow; it's just nice icing on the cake after the plan comes together.

At the risk of sounding too humanistic, that's honestly how most people spend their holidays. The weather doesn't always cooperate, your job might not be going great, you might have had a misunderstanding with your loved ones. Hector Elizondo is not going to show up and solve all your problems. But you can still come together and make the best of things. Dancing and songs bring joy.

If you watch one movie about saving a ski resort this winter, make it the one with tap-dancing.

(Images taken from GlamAmor's excellent post on Edith Head's costume design for the film.)

The Immaculate Conception in the Modern World

Esquilache Immaculate Conception, Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1645-1655)

Today is the feast of the Immaculate Conception, the patron feast of the United States. At mass tonight, the
priest mentioned how the American bishops petitioned Pope Pius IX to approve Mary's patronage assignment in 1847. This request predated Pius IX's formal dogmatic decree of the Immaculate Conception in 1854. The same year, St. Catherine Laboure introduced the Miraculous Medal, featuring the prayer "Oh Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee." Later, in 1858, the apparitions to St. Bernadette Soubirous at Lourdes further affirmed the dogma, with Mary stating"I am the Immaculate Conception."

What exactly was it that made the people of the 19th century so fixated on Mary's conception without original sin? Was this the OMGJPIITOB of its time? America was even at the cutting edge of the trend. Perhaps Europe was too preoccupied prepping the many revolutions of 1848 to really get contemplative. The Church in France had a particularly precarious relationship with their country's government at this time, as evidenced by St. Bernadette's clashes with government officials about her visions. (If those CCC Marian apparition cartoons taught me anything, it's that visionary peasant children always have a municipal nemesis.)

I'm also curious what made American Catholic choose this particular patron. Was a sinless spokeswoman their answer to the colonial concept of America as a "City on a Hill"? Were they just riding the tide of trending spirituality? Or did Mary's sinlessness give them in hope in an uncertain time when their country was facing frontier dangers and experiencing increasing discord over slavery?

Looking at the state of our country today, we're in need of that same hope. Racism is still very real, and many people doubt that our criminal justice system treats all Americans fairly. But Mary's hymn of praise reminds us that the kingdom of God promises mercy for the marginalized and an end to unjust authority. It's our duty as Christians to work to make our own country more like that kindgom.

[God] has shown the strength of his arm; He has scattered the proud in their conceit.He has cast down the mighty from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things while the rich he has sent away empty. 

That Time the Pope Went to the World's Fair

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the 1964 World's Fair in New York City. Not unlike the modern

The Unisphere on my visit in June

Olympics, the Fair didn't turn a profit, but it hosted months of culturally significant spectacles. The Ford Mustang was introduced, Walt Disney launched the It's a Small World ride, Andy Warhol mocked politicians with some controversial pop art, civil rights activists staged protests blocking highway ramps, the Beatles played in Shea Shadium, and Bob Dylan infamously used an amp.

Like the New York's first World's Fair in 1939, this was the brainchild of infamous urban planner Robert Moses. (Cue chorus of boos from historic preservation fans.) Fading from political power towards the end of his career, he hoped hosting another World's Fair and turning Queens garbage dumps into the Flushing Meadows fairgrounds and park would cement his legacy.

Even though Moses was a jerk to tear down the old Penn station, I'll admit Flushing Meadows is a great park. Some of the fair buildings are still open as museums. The '64 Fair also gave Queens the amazingly topographic Unisphere, which has become an icon of the borough. It's a great example of space age public art that can belong to everyone, not unlike my old boyfriend the St. Louis arch. Plus, you can buy the world a Coke and keep it company while you're there. 

Vatican Pavilion at Flushing Meadows.
Collection of the NYPL. 

For Catholics, the '64 fair has special significance because it brought the United States its first papal visit ever! We have Robert Moses' ambition to thank for it. The Vatican had a pavilion at the Fair, and even shipped over Michaelangelo's Pieta to display there. Moses hoped his friend Cardinal Spellman could convince the Pope to stop by in a clutch PR move for the World's Fair.

And so on October 5, 1965, Pope Paul VI became the first pope to set foot on American soil. He spent only fourteen hours in NYC, establishing the usual cathedral-stadium-political arena template for future papal visits. After landing at the new JFK Airport in Queens, he spent most of his time in Manhattan at a mixture of modern and old-school locations. He visited St. Patrick's Cathedral and met with President Johnson at the Waldorf Astoria hotel. The Holy Father also addressed the United Nations, warning that "Politics do not suffice to sustain a durable peace." Later he said Mass at Yankee Stadium, not Moses' brainchild Shea Stadium (ooh burn!).Finally, on his way out of town, Paul VI did stop at the Flushing Meadows fairgrounds. Today a marble bench marks where he stood.

Pope Paul VI's whirlwind tour wasn't as substantial as later papal visits, but it was surely a landmark moment

Pope Paul VI window in St. Philomena church,
Livingston, NJ.

for American Catholics. Only a few years before, John F.Kennedy had become the first Catholic president and a beloved political figure. Seeing the Church's leader welcomed as an international dignitary must have cemented the fact that "papists' had been accepted as true Americans, not a dangerous superstitious group swearing loyalty to a foreign power. Also, American Catholicism was no longer just mission territory; it was a major wing of the Church garnering Vatican attention! Eleven years later Paul VI would canonize New Yorker Elizabeth Ann Seton as the first American-born saint, further establishing the United States' role in Catholic history.

I found evidence of this papal euphoria in a parish near me in New Jersey. With its simple yet vaguely colonial style, St. Philomena was probably built in the early 1970s before post-Vatican II modernism had really caught on. The ample stained glass windows depict mysteries of the rosary, local bishops, and ... Pope Paul VI's NYC visit. The window is amazing and bordering on souvenir-store kitch: Paul VI raises his hands in blessing amidst the Stars and Stripes, St. Patrick's, the UN, the Empire State Building, and the Statue of Liberty. (Sadly, the Unisphere did not make the cut.) A panel at the bottom notes the date of the pontiff's visit. Perhaps some parishioners fondly remembered attending the Mass in Yankee Stadium and donated the window? I'll be on the lookout for more Paul VI commemorations in the area. American Catholicism: if it can make it here, it can make it anywhere.

If you want to learn more about the 1964 World's Fair, I highly recommend Joseph Tirella's new book Tomorrow-Land: The 1964-65 World's Fair and the Transformation of America, from which I got much of the information in the post. If you find yourself in Grand Central this fall, you should also check out this free exhibit.

7 Quick Takes Vol. 28

I'm linking up with Jen Fulweiler for 7 Quick Takes once again this week.

1. I've spent the past two weeks getting over strep throat, so there has been much laziness on the couch in sweatpants. The Southern Baron proved once again that Louisianans make excellent husbands by cooking me gumbo and gallantly fetching me all the seltzer my feverish heart desired.
   
2. The one upside to being sick is that it gave me lots of time to catch up on online television like Ken Burn's new documentary The Roosevelts. It has a mellow vibe but is also fascinating, with lots of Aaron Copeland piano in the background. I learned all kinds of new facts, like how Teddy lost both his mother and his first wife on the same day, and how FDR wrote Hitler in the 1930s saying "Hey, here's a list of countries I'd really rather you didn't invade." Hitler's response was "Can you believe this idiot?"
   Thanks to cable TV, there are a lot of mediocre history shows out there that just recycle the same re-enactment footage and try to hook you at commercial breaks with salacious teasers. I was most impressed with how much detail and effort went into Burns' work. He features hundreds of archival photos, historic video clips, and shots of different Roosevelt homes. There's a reason he's the king of documentaries. If you missed the broadcasts, there's still time to marathon all 14 hours of it this weekend before PBS takes the videos down!
   
3. To make things even nerdier, my household has gotten addicted to all the brain training game apps out there. The free versions all give you access to only a selection of games, but they mix up the roster daily so you never get bored. Lumosity is the elder statesman of the bunch, with a web counterpart. I really like Peak, which has basically the same puzzle games as Lumosity, plus a few more. It also gives you four games a day rather than just two. and they seem to be more difficult. And then there's Elevate, which favors practical skills over brain teasers. It pairs story-like animation with challenges of skills like listening, reading comprehension, and discount calculation. Basically if you wish you could do SAT problems on your phone while making a cartoon ship sail across the ocean, this is the app for you.
   
4. This time last year we were new kids in our town and didn't know a soul. Now we have suddenly found ourselves deep into volunteering at our parish down the street. He's on the pastoral council, I lector and lead the fledgling Young Adult group. Oh, and we also agreed to take over the Advent Giving Tree. I have to admit, after years of parish-hopping and being commitment-phobic, it's nice to feel useful.
   
5. At the parish picnic last weekend, we got caught up chatting with a Polish seminarian and were the last people to leave. Then we found ourselves at the priests' afterparty on the rectory deck, listening to some man's stories about being in the air force in the 70s. I guess we're in now! As Time Hawkins would say, "Start stackin' chairs."
   
   
   
   
6. This recent Slate article about the insanity and uncertainty of the academic hiring process is some real talk that needed to be shared with the world. Please, for the love of Thomas Aquinas, do not EVER suggest that a grad student should send their resume to an ivy league school or ask where they are going to raise their future kids. They already know they made a terrible life choice by buying into a broken pyramid scheme.
   
7. On a happier note, this week kicks off our month of Three Weddings and Conference. First stop: a mini reunion with my housemates from my Vincentian volunteer year. Niagara Falls, here we come!