Q&A: André Michaux, French Botanist Exploring America in the Time of George Washington--A Virtual Discussion

Select answers from Charles Williams and Eliane Norman, editors of André Michaux in North America Journals and Letters, 1785-1796

Q: Are any plants that Michaux documented now extinct?

CW: Many plants that Michaux documented in North America have been extirpated from the locales where he found them because of local habitat destruction, but we are not aware of any that have become extinct. However, some of Michaux's plants are now rare, so there is cause for concern. Bruce A. Sorrie, then with the North Carolina Natural Heritage Program, and now retired, authored a notable study presented at the 2002 André Michaux International Symposium. Sorrie's "The Status of Rare Vascular Plants that Bear Michaux's Name" treated nineteen rare plant species and reported that two were then federally listed as endangered while nine more were federal species of concern. His work was published in Castanea, Occasional Papers in Eastern Botany no. 2 (2004) and is accessible via JSTOR.   

EN: I am not aware of any. Of course, Franklinia is a Bartram discovery; Michaux collected specimens, but no data is given.

 

Q: The planned expedition for Michaux funded by the APS sounds an awful lot like the Lewis & Clark expedition! Did the planning for it influence Jefferson's plans for the latter?

CW: Indeed, planning the APS expedition for Michaux appears to have been something of a practice run for Jefferson. Many of the interesting documents are posted on the Library of Congress website and chapter nine of our book reproduces these documents. One might also examine vol. 25 of the "Papers of Thomas Jefferson" edited by John Catanzariti, Princeton University Press.

EN: Definitely. His text spelling out what Michaux's exploration would entail is very similar to the one he wrote for the Lewis and Clark expedition.

 

Q: Where are Michaux's herbarium specimens?

CW: Michaux's herbarium of North American plants is housed as a separate collection within the French national herbarium at the Museum National d'Historie Naturelle (MNHN) in Paris. There are about 500 additional Michaux specimens in the herbarium of his colleague Anton-Laurent de Jussieu also housed as a separate collection at the MNHN. When Michaux gave these specimens to Jussieu in 1797, they were duplicates of specimens in his own herbarium, but today the Shortia specimen he gave to Jussieu is the only one that can be found. There are also Michaux specimens in Geneva and perhaps elsewhere. The Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia also has a small collection of seeds from Michaux.

 

Q: Did Michaux engage with Native Americans to get information on plants used for food, medicine, etc.?

CW: Yes, he recorded interactions with the Cherokees in the Carolinas, as well as other tribes in Canada and Illinois. He noted plant remedies several times in his journal. Some examples in our book are: rheumatism and skin problems (p. 170), scurvy & venereal diseases (p. 280), scabies, purgative (p. 286), jaundice, venereal diseases, laxative (p.  288). There is a short discussion of Michaux's connection with medicinal plants in the paper presented to the American Pharmaceutical Association in 1962 by Clifton F. Lord Jr. and Martha Jane K. Zachert "The Botanical Garden of André Michaux near Charleston, 1786-1802." Unfortunately, it is only available on interlibrary loan from a handful of institutions.

EN: Several times. He interacted with the Cherokees in the Carolinas and other tribes in Canada and Illinois. He noted throughout his journal several remedies, i.e for rheumatism (p. 170), skin (p. 170), scurvy (p. 280), scabies, purgative (p. 286), venereal diseases (p. 288, 508).

 

Q: So delighted to be able to hear Charlie talking about this wonderful new book! And so pleased to hear more about the NJ garden. We're going to try make sure it is not forgotten!

CW: We certainly hope that change can be implemented and this historic site can be appropriately marked in the future.

 

Q: Did Michaux and William Bartram interact much?

CW: Michaux visited with the Bartrams each time he was in Philadelphia. He also corresponded with them and sent them seeds and plants. Both William and John Bartram, Jr. were definitely Americans that Michaux respected and considered his friends. His son François André later extolled their friendship in a letter to William Bartram that has survived.

EN: Yes, Michaux visited the Bartrams five or six times. Michaux would send them or bring seeds of plants that might be of interest. William Bartram told him of places that he visited that would be worthwhile.

 

Q: How did Michaux travel?

CW: Most of Michaux's travels were overland on the poor roads of the day by foot and horseback. At times in the back districts he lost his horses to thieves or they wandered away, but he always managed to find or replace them and continue his journeys. Early in his residence in the US, he rode the regular stagecoach between New York and Philadelphia, but this was an exception.  When there was a water route, he traveled in the available watercraft. In Florida he traveled by dugout canoe and in the Canadian wilderness by birch bark canoe. He traversed Lake Champlain and the St. Lawrence in bateaux. He sailed up and down the Hudson River on a sloop, and traveled on the Mississippi, Ohio, and Cumberland Rivers in substantial river barges equipped with oars and sails.

 

Q: Were there donkeys in America?

CW: Michaux did not record any encounters with donkeys or people employing donkeys. All of his travels were east of the Mississippi and those animals were more likely to be found in the Spanish lands west of the river.

 

Q: I had read that the root of Twinleaf (Jeffersonia diphylla) that Michaux collected was the first to produce a flower for botanists in Philadelphia. Is that true?

CW: Yes, Michaux collected live plants of this species when it was in fruit and described it in botanical terms in his journal entry for July 3, 1789 (p. 127-128, 304, 452, 517).  He was then 35 miles northeast of Abingdon in Smyth County, Virginia on his way to Philadelphia and New York. He gave the plants to his friends the Bartrams about three weeks later. Benjamin Smith Barton later obtained it from the Bartrams and after study and presenting a paper about the plant to the APS, named it for Jefferson. The volume by Joseph and Nesta Ewan, Benjamin Smith Barton, Naturalist and Physician in Jeffersonian America (Missouri Botanical Garden Press, 2007), tells a part of this story on p. 276.    

EN: Michaux found it in Virginia, gave some to the Bartrams, who grew it. Benjamin Smith Barton saw it and gave it its genus name "Jeffersonia."

 

Q: Can you comment on any extensive associations with the Bartram family of botanists or William Hamilton of the Woodlands who had hothouses on his property and imported and exported America’s plants to England?

CW: Michaux visited William Hamilton several times. Unfortunately, most of Hamilton's correspondence is lost but a surviving letter suggests that Michaux discussed plants in depth with Hamilton and one of his gardeners. Michaux also gave plants to Hamilton, including Zelkova, trees that Michaux had brought back to France from his voyage to the Middle East before he came to America. This row of large trees survived at the Woodlands until the 1900's. Curator Joel Fry at Bartram's Garden has old photographs and knowledge of these trees.

Michaux had a warm relationship with the Bartrams. During his visits to Philadelphia he even boarded his horses at their farm. Early in his American travels he visited areas in the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida that William Bartram had visited in the 1770s searching for plants that Bartram had told him about; an example is Bartram's "Magnolia montana" (M. fraseri) that Michaux mentioned in 1788 (p. 112). A letter from Michaux to John Bartram Jr. from 1791 (p. 159) shows that Michaux sent live M. fraseri plants to the Bartrams that he had likely obtained on this 1788 expedition. This relationship only deepened over time. In a letter from Charleston Nov. 14, 1794, Michaux mentioned to Rev. Nicholas Collin in Philadelphia: "I have the custom of sending to Mr. Bartram everything that one can find here." This relationship continued when Michaux's son returned to America in the early 1800s.

EN: Michaux visited William Hamilton several times and Michaux gave him plants, including Zelkova, trees that M. had brought back to France from his voyage to the Near East before he came to America. This row of large trees existed at the Woodlands until the 1900's.

 

Q: What plants did Michaux introduce to America?

CW: Over the years there have been a number of articles in popular magazines crediting Michaux with introducing old world plants to America and the evidence shows that he clearly did do this, but information on specifics is often lacking. For instance, when he became an honorary member of the Agricultural Society of Charleston, Michaux simply offered any of the plants growing in his garden that were not of North American origin to these men and no records seem to have been kept. The late James R. Cothran, the distinguished Atlanta landscape architect and landscape historian who authored Gardens of Historic Charleston (University of South Carolina Press, 1995), addressed the issue of Michaux's plant introductions at the 2002 André Michaux International Symposium. His study "Treasured Ornamentals of Southern Gardens-Michaux's Lasting Legacy" was published in Castanea, Occasional Papers in Eastern Botany no. 2 (2004) and is also accessible in the JSTOR database.  

 

Q: Did Michaux discover the magnolia?

CW: In addition to the familiar evergreen, Magnolia grandiflora, there are six (some taxonomists say seven) species of deciduous magnolias native to eastern North America.  Michaux discovered one of the deciduous magnolias, the bigleaf magnolia, Magnolia macrophylla. My study of Michaux and this species "André Michaux and the Discovery Magnolia macrophylla in North Carolina" appears in Castanea, vol. 64, no. 1 (March 1999), and is available in the JSTOR database.

 

Q: Did Michaux correspond with Alexander von Humboldt?

CW: We have only seen only one letter from Humboldt to Michaux about the growth of trees in North America when he had already returned to Paris. It might be of interest to see if there is an answer to his query in the Humboldt archives.

 

Q: Did Michaux and Humboldt meet?

CW: They certainly could have, and would have even traveled together had Bouganville been selected to lead the expedition to the south seas that Nicholas Baudin eventually did lead and Michaux joined, but we have not seen evidence that the two men actually met although they were in Paris at the same time.

 

Q: Did Michaux use enslaved persons to work on his farm in Charleston?

CW: Yes, it is documented that he did take advantage of the labor system he found in South Carolina at that time. The enslaved persons helped him in collecting and planting and the upkeep of his garden. Michaux specifically mentions that an enslaved person accompanied him on some of his early collecting journeys. Later during his residence in Charleston he also seems to have thought so well of some of them that he essentially left his garden in their care while he traveled to the Mississippi in 1795-1796. Perhaps surprised by such an unusual arrangement, La Rochefoucauld-Liancourt specifically mentioned it in his memoir of visiting Michaux's garden in March and April 1796. Michaux also brought back to France a young boy whom he trained in natural history, collecting and preserving specimens. He later accompanied Michaux to Madagascar.

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"The Promise and Pitfalls of Citizen Science" Papers

April 5-9, 2021

Papers for "The Promise and Pitfalls of Citizen Science" can be found below.  You will be required to enter a password provided by conference organizers to access them. Please contact Adrianna Link at [email protected] if you are attending the conference but have not yet received the password.

Papers are not to be cited or circulated without the written permission of the author

All events will be held via Zoom (times listed in EDT)


Monday, April 5

1:00 - 2:30 p.m.: Keynote: Past, Present, and Future of Citizen Science

Featuring:
Caren Cooper (Associate Professor, Forestry & Environmental Resources, North Carolina State University)
Arthur Caplan (Drs. William F. and Virginia Connolly Mitty Professor, Division of Medical Ethics, New York University School of Medicine)


3:00 - 4:15 p.m.: Panel 1: The Promise of Citizen Science

Negotiating the Mushroom Fad: Women and Mycological Work in the Era of Professionalization
Madeline DeDe-Panken (The Graduate Center, CUNY)

Citizen Science and Public Health: The Development of the Infant Incubator
Susan Kattwinkel (College of Charleston)

How Citizen Science is Super-Charging the Study of Evolutionary Adaptation in the Anthropocene
Michael Moore (Living Earth Collaborative, Washington University, St. Louis)


Tuesday, April 6

1:00 - 2:15 p.m.: Panel 2: Historical Perspectives

Citizen Observers in the Eighteenth-century Republic of Meteorological Letters
Jin-Woo Choi (Princeton University)

Traveling Across Citizen Science in Portugal through Old Publications and Museum Collections
Cristina Luís (University of Lisbon)

The Strathmore Meteorite Fall of December 1917
Peter Davidson (National Museums Scotland)


3:00 - 4:00 p.m.: Showcase 

“Transitions in Citizen Science with the GLOBE Program during a Global Pandemic: Shifting Gears from Data Collection to Data Literacy”

Marilé Colón Robles (NASA Langley Research Center/SSAI), Dr. Russane Low (Institute for Global Environmental Strategies), and Brian Campbell (NASA Goddard Space Flight Center’s Wallops Flight Facility/GST, Inc)


Wednesday, April 7

1:00 - 2:15 p.m.: Panel 3: Community Perspectives

Tribal Community Science: Advancing the Understanding of Philosophical Tenets from Local Knowledge Production Processes
Shandin Pete (University of Montana)

Citizen Science for Social Science
Evan Roberts (University of Minnesota)

The Oceans as Site and Subject of Citizen Science
Penelope K. Hardy (University of Wisconsin-La Crosse)


3:00 - 4:00 p.m.: Showcase 

“The Environmental Justice Academy: Strategies for Scientific Inquiry, Knowledge Production, and Citizen Empowerment”

Sheryl Good (Environmental Protection Agency), Ernest “Omar” Muhammad (South Carolina Department of Natural Resources), Joan M. Wesley (Jackson State University), Dana H. Z. Williamson (Environmental Protection Agency), Daphne C. Wilson (Environmental Protection Agency)


Thursday, April 8

1:00 - 2:15 p.m.: Panel 4: Global Perspectives

Stalinist Citizen Science: Grassroots Drug Development in the Early Cold War USSR
Pavel Vasilyev (HSE University St. Petersburg)

"Mr. Crane, the Faithful Husband": Making an "Indicator" and "Flagship" Species for Ugandan Wetland Conservation, 1986 to Present
John Doyle-Raso (Michigan State University)

Study Radio for Revolution: The Making of Amateur Technologies in Socialist China
Yingchuan Yang (Columbia University)


3:00 - 4:00 p.m.: Showcase

“Are We Alone in the Universe? Millions of SETI@home Volunteers Search for ET”

Dan Werthimer (Marilyn and Watson Alberts Chair in Astronomy, University of California, Berkeley)


Friday, April 9

1:00 - 2:15 p.m.: Panel 5: The Pitfalls of Citizen Science

Breaking Bread: Social Media, Personal Intimacies, and Accidental Surveillance on Citizen Scientists
Darcie DeAngelo (Binghamton University)

Conflictual Collaboration: Citizen Science and the Governance of Radioactive Contamination after the Fukushima Nuclear Disaster
Maxime Polleri (McGill University)

The Future is Accessible: "Access" in Citizen Science Must Include Disability Accessibility
Kaitlin Stack Whitney (Rochester Institute of Technology)


3:00 - 4:00 p.m.: Wrap up 

Featuring:
Robert M. Hauser (Executive Officer, American Philosophical Society)
Darlene Cavalier (Founder, SciStarter.org and Professor of Practice, School for the Future of Innovation in Society, Arizona State University)

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Q&A: Race and Nation in Puerto Rican Folklore: Franz Boas and John Alden Mason in Porto Rico -- A Virtual Discussion with Rafael Ocasio

The questions and comments below from participants during the Q&A session are intended to continue our conversation and are grouped thematically as 1) Jíbaro culture, 2) Loíza, 3) Mason’s recordings, 4) Indigenous Taíno traits, 5) Children as informants and as writers of oral samples, and 6) Folk Tales from the Hills of Puerto Rico/Cuentos folklóricos de las montañas de Puerto Rico. I would like to thank you for your attendance and I encourage you to reach out to me at [email protected] if you have any further questions.

1)   Jíbaro culture

Q: The geographical dichotomy of the highlands and the lowlands to denote racial differences between white/jíbaro and black cultures is common in Puerto Rican studies. Where does this dichotomy come from? Did the Boas-Mason research and approach to data collection create it?

A: Yes, the racial dichotomy, as illustrated in Mason’s numerous comments to Boas pertaining to his field research in Utuado (white) and in Loíza (Black), was not a new approach taken by either U.S. American or Puerto Rican scholars. In Race and Nation in Puerto Rican Folklore, I trace the historic attraction of Utuado (as the heartland of the jíbaro culture), which had been taking place during the Spanish colonial era, and it was continued by Puerto Rican scholars after the Spanish American War. What struck me about Mason’s letters to Boas was his immediate attraction to Utuado’s cultural practices, including its rich oral folklore (often referred to as “de la montaña”; of the hinterland), since his arrival in early December 1914. While providing information to be used in Boas’s anthropometric research, Mason often described Puerto Rican racial traits, such as coloring of eyes, skin, hair and texture of hair.

Q: Did you come across Jibaro folklore regarding climate/weather? Is that folklore relevant now, especially after hurricane Maria?

A: I don’t recall stories that place climate or weather as a central component of the plot line. There are many references, however, to scorchingly sunny or miserably rainy days. Your question brings me, however, to an issue that was central in my book. What were the parameters of the instructions given to the cultural informants that generated samples of oral stories? I strongly suspect that the instructions called specifically for stories reflective of Puerto Rican “traditions” which, in turn, the informants understood to refer to cultural practices. Thus, in the case of your query, they would not consider “stories about weather” as representations of Puerto Rican culture. 

 

2)   Loíza

Q: What were some distinctive characteristics of the Loíza folklore, content-wise rather than linguistic?

A: As part of his interview with Melitón Congo, whom he described as a formerly enslaved worker, Mason documented a list of African words, or a “Congo vocabulary.” He merely informed Boas that a high number of words in Loíza “seem to be of native origin.” A significant number of those words relate to religious practices, an implication that Melitón spoke to Mason about local religious practices written down as a glossary titled “Materia Médica and Witchcraft.” References to “hechicero” (male witch), prophet, medicine man, “maestro de brujo” (master sorcerer), and “bruja” (witch) point out the presence of individuals involved with African-based religious practices in Loíza. A striking detail is the fact that, with the exception of “a bruja” (a witch), all terms reference men as high priest-types practitioners of religious ceremonies.   

Q: Any information on the Bantu/Congo orígenes in the music of Bomba and the descendants of Loiza?

A: Mason merely reported to Boas that Melitón Congo had helped him to document a list of an unnoted number of words. Whether Melitón was originally from the Congo region was not indicated, either. The “Congo” vocabulary was never discussed during the editing process, nor was it reported to Espinosa. Why Boas and Mason chose not to publish any of this “slave-based” folk material is still my most puzzling theoretical question. One of the surviving recorded songs mentions Melitón by name. This gave me an indication that Melitón was extremely well known in Loíza at the time.

Q: Do the songs on the cylinder contain African words?

A: Mason was extremely busy in Loíza, as one of the participants wrote: “[Mason] recorded more than Bomba in Loiza, Cuentos Cantados, Baquines and others.” In his descriptions to Boas about this material, however, Mason did not seem to be impressed by the linguistic characteristics of the sample. Writing about the “cuentos cantados” (a narrated story with a musical refrain), Mason simply stated that they were “stories in which part of the dialogue was sung.” The musical component did not impress Mason much, either: “The melody is generally very simple and does not have the auditory impression of Spanish music.”  

 

3)   Mason’s recordings

Q: Where are the sample materials collected by Mason (such as the wax recordings) kept?

A: Yes, as several members of the audience pointed out, they are available as a collection at the Archives of Traditional Music at Indiana University (54-148-F). Other files are available on YouTube as well. In Race and Nation in Puerto Rican Folklore, I trace the route that those recordings took from Mason’s hands (I found no reference to whether Boas ever heard them) leading to their current home at Indiana University. It is a mystery that Mason clarified for Dr. Ricardo Alegría, who on the occasion of the inauguration of Caguana, had invited Mason to visit Puerto Rico in 1956. 

Q: Would consulting those reveal the vernacular language instead of the Castilian translations? Would not the recordings be a better way to get to the grass-roots language?

A: An enthusiastic yes to both questions. I hope linguists are interested in engaging in such an in-depth study of what Mason often generically referred to as “local Spanish dialectical pronunciation patterns” and, in the case of Loíza, “the dialect spoken on the coast.”  

 

4)   Indigenous Taíno traits

Q: I wanted to hear more about the correspondence between Boas and his students. Would you say more about how they represent and discuss indigeneity in Utuado?

A: Great question! Mason often reported to Boas about his exploration of “Indiera,” on the highlands region in the Cordillera Central, reputedly, according to Mason, an area with a higher concentration of what he and Boas referred to as “Indian blood.” Indeed, as Jorge Duany has pointed out, other anthropologists, such as U.S. anthropologist Jesse Walter Fewkes, had already traveled extensively through Indiera for similar reasons. Boas and Mason were well-acquainted with Fewkes’s field work and often referenced it in their letters. Yet Mason had yet another source of information about Indiera through the work of an amateur anthropologist, Robert Junghanns, a U.S. American who had made Puerto Rico his home. Mason reported to Boas about Junghanns’s field work in exceptionally positive terms. Junghanns visited Mason at Capá and together they traveled throughout the reputed Indiera territory. Junghanns also facilitated identification of individuals earmarked for Boas’ anthropometric field research. Their conversations about colorized terms used widely in Puerto Rico included Junghanns’s interpretation about the meaning of “indio” (literally Indian) as a skin color and racial classification in Puerto Rico.

Q: Please say something about the slide “Indigenous Taino ‘traits.’”

A: My photos on the slide “Indigenous Taino ‘traits’” highlighted individuals in Puerto Rico who frequently take part in cultural events that celebrate Taíno culture. Such events include, for example, “Festival Indígena” (Indigenous Festival), a musical-type yearly event that takes place in Jayuya (in the mountainous central range), a town known as the “indigenous capital of the island.” Indeed, the Puerto Rican government promotes tourism through a “Taina Route and Indigenous Culture in Puerto Rico,” highlighting the mountainous central range’s numerous “caves, trails, graves, and petroglyphs tell the story of the island’s cultural origins” (https://www.discoverpuertorico.com/article/taina-route-indigenous-culture-puerto-rico). Other organized groups, such as the concilio Taíno Guatu-Ma-Cu-A-Borikén, often celebrate socio-religious activities and ceremonies on the grounds of Caguana. These celebrations include musical performances with Indigenous musical instruments and performers dressed in traditional Taíno clothings.

Q: I would appreciate hearing Dr. Ocasio’s impressions of whether there are current cultural efforts underway in Puerto Rico to revive and/or keep these traditions alive, please. What do you make of the Taino revival on the island?

A: Both of these questions are at the heart of current discussions about the concept of the Puerto Rican “nation,” an angle that is also a cornerstone of my book Race and Nation. Public displays of Taíno artifacts such as the 2018 Smithsonian exhibition, “Taíno: Native Heritage and Identity in the Caribbean,” have underscored the resilience of Taino ancestry: “[t]he Indigenous peoples of the Spanish-speaking Caribbean are not extinct and they never were” (https://www.si.edu/newsdesk/releases/ta-no-perseverance-subject-upcoming-new-york-city-exhibition-national-museum-american-india). The exhibit also included a symposium that brought together individuals that consider themselves part of the Taíno nation. I was lucky to be present and enjoyed the presentations by the activist Elba Anaca Lugo, a native of Utuado and leader of Consejo General de Taínos Borincanos, who spoke about the “essence” of the Boricua indigenous movement. Her presentation in Spanish is available: si.edu/es/object/yt_yfl8frDFD_M. Abuela Shashira Rodríguez, also with Consejo General de Tainos Borincanos, as the mother of all Boricuas made the call for all Puerto Ricans to claim ancestral land. Her presentation in Spanish is also available: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srEDBaokzVY. Certainly, given today’s highly contested Puerto Rico-United States political status, Abuela Shashira’s emotive call of “claiming ownership” of Boricua’s ancestral land indeed becomes a powerful statement. They also challenged past Puerto Rican government administrations in their mismanagement of important Taíno grounds, such as Caguana, while also ascertaining their rights to use the park for socio-religious ceremonies.   

 

5)   Children as informants and as writers of oral samples

Q: Many folklorists and anthropologists collect children's folklore - it's not unusual - Alan Lomax collected dozens of children's expressive culture.

A: Yes, indeed it was not unusual to use children as cultural informants. Before Mason’s arrival, I also uncovered several instances of U.S. companies established in Puerto Rico hosting contests for children, calling them to provide written samples of oral folklore. More importantly, in turning to school children from the public school system as writers, however, Mason ignored that they were also struggling with the inclusion of English as a mandatory language of instruction. That policy resulted in frequent public protests and strikes by teachers and students, which both Mason and Boas would have been aware of at the time of their field work through the island.

Q: You mentioned that school children were used as a source for various stories by folklorists, along with the fact that they often adapted the stories to their current situations. What is one of the more interesting changes that you've noted with a traditional story in adapting to present-day sensibilities?

A: I absolutely love that Cenizosa’s stepmother forces her to wash tripes in a nearby river in preparation for mondongo, or tripe stew. Another notable change is that the fairy godmothers are referred to as encantadas, or individuals under a spell, who must find a kind-hearted individual willing to free them from their sad existence. Yet another new element is Cenizosa’s varita de la virtud, which I translate as a “virtuous wand,” one of the fabulous gifts that she receives from one of three encantadas. The virtuous wand also links the Cinderella series with other colorful fairy stories. 

 

6)   Folk Tales from the Hills of Puerto Rico/Cuentos folklóricos de las montañas de Puerto Rico

Q: How do you think your work dialogues with the previous works of Lillian Guerra and Jorge Duany? They both make use of Mason's collection.

A: In digging deeper into the large correspondence with Boas, I came across Mason’s documentation of his relationship with Puerto Rican folklorists. On the one hand, Mason met Cayetano Coll y Toste, who served as an important contact with officers of the Puerto Rican government, who facilitated his field research. Mason often referred to Boas about plentiful well-known “tradiciones,” not coincidentally, Coll y Toste was also a writer of historic legends that at the time of Mason’s visit were published in newspapers. Coll y Toste was instrumental in Mason’s meeting Junghanns, who had also transcribed a rather large collection of oral folklore. The role of Junghanns was, as I mentioned earlier, rather decisive. Junghanns accompanied and advised Mason about anthropological and ethnographic field methodologies both at Capá and in Loíza.

Q: Are all the tales in the new book from the Mason collection, or are some from other sources? Were all published In the Journal of American Folklore series?

A: Yes, Folk Stories from the Hills of Puerto Rico/Cuentos folklóricos de las montañas de Puerto Rico (Rutgers UP, 2021) is an anthology of selected folk stories from the original versions published in Journal of American Folklore. Given that the original published texts were edited in the oral format characteristic of folk stories, in my editing of the stories I reduced the length of extremely long sentences and often clarified subjects of restrictive clauses. I maintained, however, the informal narrative elements of the original pieces. My English translations are based on my edited Spanish versions. A short introduction offers a panoramic view of Mason’s transcription processes, including information about the children as writers of the stories. Some rural elements of importance to the plot development and characterization are also explained. A Spanish translation of the anthology’s introduction is available free of charge at: https://www.rutgersuniversitypress.org/cuentos. 

Q: Thanks so much for this presentation. I am Puerto Rican and I loved it. My question is what is the oldest written source for the stories that we have?

A: Rafael Ramírez de Arellano published in book form Folklore portorriqueño:

Cuentos y adivinanzas recogidos de la tradición oral (Madrid: Centro de Estudios Históricos, 1926), although his field research preceded Mason’s visit to Puerto Rico. 

Q: Are you going to collect folklore on plantation life in Puerto Rico? I ask because my great grandfather left Puerto Rico to Hawaii after a hurricane destroyed the sugarcane industry in the early 20th century.

A: Great idea! I am open to continuing this type of recovery research. So much of the oral folklore collected in the early part of the twentieth century remains unpublished (for instance, Junghanns’ samples). You and I have something in common. My father’s family is from Manatí, the heartland of the Puerto Rican pineapple. I always wondered why my grandfather never left the island for Hawaii like so many of the local jíbaros did.

Q: The translation of the stories looks fantastic! It raises questions about the relation between oral and written cultures, which some people mistakenly believe always moves from the oral to the written. Do you have a sense of how some of the more famous literary tales--Cinderella, Snow White--made their way into "jibaro" oral culture?

A: Espinosa frequently expressed his doubts that the children wrote original stories; rather, he insisted that they had just copied from printed sources widely available to them. Although Espinosa never revealed titles, we can ascertain that he might have been referring to stories such as Cinderella or Snow White. In his correspondence from Puerto Rico, Mason had already entertained the possibility that the school children could have been tainted by popular short story collections. He reported to Boas his conversations with Junghanns, who corroborated that cheap children’s books produced in Spain by Editorial Calleja were indeed widely available on the island.     

Q: Around what time were the stories written by children created?

A: Mason started meeting with bureaucrats of the Puerto Rican Public system immediately upon his arrival in Puerto Rico. I was unable to establish a precise date of his arrival, but his first letters to Boas are dated early December 1914. Mason left the island on an undetermined date in 1915. Within this time period Mason collected an incredible number of samples.

Q: What reaction have Puerto Rican children had to these stories and have school systems opened their doors to share these pieces of our culture?

A: Boas was hopeful that the public school system would make use of the stories as part of reading materials, perhaps as primers. I did not explore whether this project eventually happened. However, folk tales have been traditionally pedagogical components in reading primers in Puerto Rico. As a child, my earliest memories of performing “literary analysis” while reading folk tales are writing down basic answers to questions like who are the characters, what is their problem, what is the message of these stories.

Q: Do your books include digital links to some audio excerpts of this research?

A: It would have been a good idea! You may access one of Mason’s recordings on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8gDBrRZuAg.

Q: I would love to hear one of your favorite stories!

A: The Cenizosa series are without a doubt my favorite stories. I knew some versions through the literary renditions by Judith Ortiz Cofer, who as a child traveling back and forth between Hormigueros and Paterson, New Jersey, had heard them from her maternal grandmother. The first Latina nominated in 1989 for the Pulitzer Prize, Ortiz Cofer was a good friend and a mentor of my exploration of Puerto Rican folktales. To my delight, she often shared with me her unpublished “re-interpretations of Puerto Rican fables.” I dedicated to her memory my book presentation at the American Philosophical Society on February 17, 2021. I so much wish she could have seen both of my books in print!

With permission from Rutgers University Press, I reproduce “María, Cinderella,” originally published as “La Cenicienta,” Journal of American Folklore 38, no. 150 (1925): 511–512. Hope you enjoy it!

 

“María, Cinderella”

Once upon a time, a married couple had a daughter, but shortly afterward the mother died, leaving her husband a widower. There was another old woman who had a daughter called Cinderella. The widower’s daughter had a little goat, and every time the girl set out to move her little goat to another pasture, the woman would say to her:

“If you persuade your father to marry me, I’ll give you honey soup.”

But every time María told her father, he would always answer:

“Today she gives you honey and tomorrow, bile.”

The daughter kept on insisting so much that the father married the woman.

The old woman bought a nanny goat for Cinderella, but the very next day, María, the widower’s daughter, became Cinderella, and Cinderella was known as María.

One day the stepdaughter had a whim to have Cinderella’s little goat killed. No matter how much Cinderella wept to keep them from killing it, there was no way out. The woman beat up her stepdaughter and killed the nanny goat. She sent Cinderella to the river to wash its entrails, but she counted the tripe, telling her stepdaughter that if even one bit of it was missing, she would be punished.

Since Cinderella greatly feared the woman, she began to clean the tripe with much care. When the girl was turning to leave, one piece of the tripe fell into the river. She threw herself forward, saying:

“River, river, downriver, give me my little tripe; if you don’t give it to me, my stepmother will kill me!”

She kept running while saying:

“River, river, downriver, give me my little tripe!”

While she was searching in such great anxiety, she came upon a very dirty palace. Some enchanted women lived there. They had gone out for Mass, leaving behind a very dirty little dog. As soon as the girl arrived, she began to clean the palace; she threw the garbage into the trash can, and she also bathed the little dog. Later, she hid behind the door.

When the enchanted women arrived, they shouted:

“Who could it be that did this work for us?”

The little dog started barking:

“Bow, wow, wow, she is behind the door!”

But since the girl did not come out, one of the enchanted women said:

“My gift to you is that each time you speak, rubies and diamonds will fall from your lips.”

Another of the enchanted women said:

“My gift to you is that every time you comb your hair, you will sprinkle pearls and gold!”

And yet another said:

“I give you the eastern star upon your forehead.”

The last of the enchanted women said:

“I give you a magic wand!”

They gave her the tripe, and the girl left.

When Cinderella got home, each time that she was going to speak, she made the sounds “Blu, blu, blu!”—but she spat out rubies and diamonds.

The mean stepmother immediately gathered the diamonds and the rubies. She was now well pleased with her stepdaughter.

Just as before, the old woman told her daughter to kill her little goat, which was done at once. Then her daughter gathered the tripe, and she left the house. The mean girl dropped the piece of tripe into the river, and while jumping into the river, she began to shout, “River, river, downriver!” She was doing as her stepsister had told her she had done.

When she arrived at the palace, it was quite clean. The evil stepdaughter started trashing the palace until she made a huge mess. When the enchanted women arrived, one of them said:

“Who could have done this evil deed to me? Once they did me a favor, but now they have played an ugly prank.”

Another of the woman said:

“I make you the gift of the growth of frizzled donkey’s hair on your forehead!”

The next woman said:

“My gift to you is that when you speak, you will spit out horse manure!”

Yet the last of the enchanted women said:

“My gift to you is that every time you comb your hair, you will fling out ticks and lice!”

Immediately, the mean girl left.

When she got home, every time she spoke, she spewed horse manure from her mouth. If she combed her hair, she hurled ticks and lice, and always the frizzled donkey’s hair grew out thicker each time her mother cut it.

One day an invitation came to a dance that a prince was hosting. Cinderella said at once:

“Oh, I am going!”

The two women kicked her; soon Cinderella stopped talking.

The night of the dance, the old woman and her daughter got dressed and went to the ball. Cinderella was left alone, huddled by the fireplace. At about ten o’clock that evening, the time announced for the dance, Cinderella said:

“Little magic wand, by the virtue that you have and the virtue that God has given you, I want you to place me at the dance in a glowing gown that I can illuminate without the need of lights. I want you to take me there in a coach with wheels of gold and a horse handsome beyond comparison.”

When Cinderella opened her eyes, she was there. As soon as the prince saw her, he fell in love with the beautiful woman. The charming prince asked Cinderella to dance. At four in the morning, Cinderella told him that she had to leave because it was so late. The prince asked her:

“Are you María, the Cinderella?”

She answered:

“Yes, I am.”

The prince told María Cinderella that he was going to get her something to drink before she left. While he was gone, María dashed out, leaped into the coach, and vanished.

It was all over right then. The prince went mad; he began to beat the musicians and their companions with sticks. Just like that, the dance ended.

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Q&A: Past and Prologue: Politics and Memory in the American Revolution -- A Virtual Discussion with Michael D. Hattem

Select answers from Michael Hattem, author of Past and Prologue: Politics and Memory in the American Revolution

Q: How much of the “authority of the past” can be traced to the rise of the precedent-based system of the common law in England in the 17th Century? (Thomas Lincoln)

A: A good deal of it, Thomas. I talk in my first and second chapters about the cultural impact of living in a common law legal system and John Demos and others have noted that the common law was more than just a legal system and that it seeped out into the cultures of England and British North America generally.

 

Q: Where did slavery and the slave trade fit in the early Americans’ reinterpretation of their British past? How was their view consistent (or not) with the ideology of the early republic? (Anonymous)

A: That is a great question. The slave trade, like slavery itself, was often left out of colonial and later national histories, partly because they did not fit with the themes of unity and independence so prominent in the early national historical narrative. That said, some Americans, especially those inclined toward antislavery, did see fit to blame the slave trade on Britain, and some, by extension, slavery in the colonies, just as Jefferson did in his first draft of the Declaration.

 

Q: I'm hearing an interesting parallel between the crafting of the "Colonial Creed" to separate the American identity from England and the post Civil War crafting of the Lost Cause narrative, and perhaps the later reunification of nation by describing it as an unfortunate battle of brother with brother. There was also in this a stressing of continuity, eradicating slavery as a factor, between pre war and post war society. (Ana Edwards)

A: Fascinating question and relevant to my next book project! Whenever political crises create a need for new historical narratives or history cultures, the question of continuity and rupture is one of the first that must be resolved and how that gets resolved depends on the political goals and circumstances of those creating the narrative. Confederates who believed they had to secede to protect their liberty (i.e., the ability to enslave human beings) drew analogies between themselves and the revolutionary generation who they argued fought to preserve their British liberties. The Lost Cause, as an attempt to manufacture a post-facto narrative to justify loss perhaps has more in common with loyalist histories of the period that sought to explain the loss of the colonies in a way that not only reconciled the past with the present but also as a roadmap for the future of the empire.

 

Q: Have you encountered the argument by Prof. Kermit Roosevelt of Penn’s law school that “created equal” had a different meaning when it was written than we understand it? Roosevelt posits that the original meaning was merely a restatement of Lockean anti-Stuart social contract theory: that we are born equal and we die equal and that, in between, we consent to government. He further posits that our sense of the Declaration as an “equality” document is a product of Lincoln-era propaganda. Thoughts? (Thomas Lincoln)

A: I have not encountered that argument from Dr. Roosevelt specifically but the late Michal Jan Rozbicki wrote a book ten years ago called Culture and Liberty in the Age of the American Revolution in which he argued that liberty in the eighteenth century was defined in no small part by the privileges one had that were denied to others. In other words, what made liberty meaningful to those who had it was partly that others did not. Equality in that context takes on a very different meaning that would seem to be along the lines of your description of Dr. Roosevelt’s work.

 

Q: In 1848, a correspondent to Frederick Douglass’ Paper pointed to a reference to Crispus Attucks in the popular history of the American Revolution by Italian historian Carlo Botta. Did any widely read history by an American acknowledge the role of Blacks in the revolution by the mid-1800s? (Kenneth Hawkins)

A: Botta’s history was published in 1809. At that time, the early histories of the Revolution did not mention Attucks. His role in the Revolution and in the memory of it was largely a product of the abolitionist movement in the 1830s-1850s, especially William C. Nell, a black abolitionist in Boston who wrote often about Attucks and managed a number of campaigns to get Attucks remembered and commemorated, efforts which he continued in the years before the Centennial in 1876.

 

Q: Given one of the earliest histories written was by Mercy Otis Warren, how did women fit into the stories that appeared after the Revolution? (Benjamin Park)

A: In addition to Warren, there were only a few other women who published historical works before the War of 1812. In the stories and narratives of the Revolution, they barely existed at all. It’s not until the mid-nineteenth century that we begin to see significant numbers of women writing history (detailed well in Mary Kelley’s work) but also the first history of women in the Revolution by Elizabeth Ellet in 1848-50.

 

Q: You noted history culture could be found in places like newspapers and almanacs and not just books. Were the post-Revolutionary writers angry that their historical works were published in these places, or did they want their work to appear there to have a bigger impact? (David Gary)

A: They definitely wanted their work excerpted and some were happy to see theirs serialized primarily because their explicit goal in writing history was to shape a new American national identity. That said, the thing they feared as authors who funded their own publications was the emergence of pirated editions of their books coming back to the United States from England and Ireland. These pirated copies often arrived very quickly and they were much cheaper than the original editions paid for by the authors. Publishing a work of history was a significant expense (Ramsay details his financial losses from his histories in letters to younger historians asking for advice about publishing) and many of the revolutionary generation’s historians never made any money and in many cases lost money from publishing their histories.

 

Q: I would like to ask specifically about the appropriation of indigeneity to form an American identity. He's talked a little about it, and wrote about it on pages 25-35, but I was wondering if he could go more in depth on the impact of this phenomenon on the systemic oppression/genocide of indigenous people in the US? (Kylie Hoang)

A: This is a really important question. I talk about this more in chapter six of the book but the cultural nationalists’ construction of an Indigenous past for the new nation that absolved its citizens of the historical actions of their ancestors, at the same time, justified the continuance, in the new national context, of the settler colonialism that would continue to define the nation’s imperial continental ambitions throughout the nineteenth century. So much as the expansion and growth of the United States rested in part on the appropriation of Indigenous lands, so too did the idea of “American history” and development of American national identity rest in part on the appropriation of Indigenous pasts. In other words, cultural forms of settler colonialism like appropriating Indigenous pasts helped allow early national Americans to justify the political forms of settler colonialism which were pursued by their government and which they supported.

 

Q: Along with this view of the revolutionaries view of their history, there was the view expressed in Mather's Magnalia. During the war, works such as Dwight's Conquest of Canaan and Ezra Stiles, America was part of providential history, a position that continues in the concept of Manifest Destiny. How does this historical vision relate to what you describe? (Robert Imholt)

A: This was an important debate in the previous literature on the topic of American historical writing that came out around the Bicentennial. The question was: how much did the early national histories reflect the Enlightenment and reject providentialism as a force of historical change. Some historians back then argued that early national historians rejected providentialism in favor of a more enlightened perspective. What I found was that though they were not as explicit about providentialism as Mather, there was still a sense of an underlying providentialism in their narratives.

 

Q: I just received my copy of the current American Historical Review roundtable of Jill Lepore’s These Truths. This follows on the release of the 1776 Commission report by one president and cancellation by the incoming president. How do we go about creating a new national narrative today? (Peter Feinman)

A: I have thought about this question a lot in thinking about the contemporary relevance of my work and thinking about national memory. My current project looks at the history of the memory of the Revolution in the 19th and 20th centuries and what I’ve found is that American history became politicized in a distinctly partisan way after 1800 and has been that way ever since. There has never been a time outside the window of the 1790s and early 1800s when there were not competing national narratives and memories. In other words, I do not think it is possible to create a new national narrative that could be widely accepted. Of course, one of the challenges there is that doing so would have to contend with the very powerful resilience of the Cold War-era memory that many American adults grew up with. All that said, I think we are currently in an important moment in the history of the memory of the American Revolution. Conflict over American history seems to ebb and flow along with the degree of political division in the country. Not unlike in the 1760s and 1770s, many Americans today are reconsidering the meaning and legacy of the Revolution. What is somewhat new is that many are calling for it to have no place in our collective civic and political cultures. I do not know if there is a way to create a national narrative with broad appeal in the present but I think that if it were possible it would require avoiding the two extremes we see so often currently of either seeing the Revolution as all good or all bad. What makes American history so interesting to me as a historian is its complexity and both of those extremes tend to flatten American history into two dimensions.

 

Q: Some educated Americans before 1800 had read in the Greek and Latin classics. Was not the Roman past some part of the American past before about 1810? Was not Gibbon read in your early America?  (Thomas Bisson)

A: I did not address classical history in the book for two reasons. First, there is already a ton of literature on this topic, some quite old and some quite new. But second, and more importantly, the number of Americans who knew anything substantive about the classical past was very small, especially compared to those who knew anything modestly substantive about recent British or English history. I wanted to get beyond just elites and to get a sense of what ordinary colonists and later Americans knew about the past and how it contributed to their civic identities and political behaviors. My decision to do this was confirmed early on when I noticed during reading newspapers and pamphlets from the imperial crisis that pseudonyms of British historical figures were often just as commonly used as those from classical figures.

 

Q: How does Noah Webster’s effort to distinguish an American language from an English one fit into the notion of turning from one historical narrative to create another? (David Greer)

A: Americans created a deep national past by making Columbus the discoverer of America, nationalizing natural history, and appropriating Indigenous pasts for the purpose of establishing a sense of historical independence from Britain and Webster’s linguistic efforts sought to establish a sense of cultural independence from Britain. Both were part of the broader project of establishing a new national identity after securing political independence.

 

Q: How do you deal in your narrative with the many European settlers who were not British, but Dutch or Swedish or Moravian. Did they relate to this tradition of parliament and King? And what about the Proprietary colonies as opposed to the Royal colonies? (David Crosby)

A: This is a great question! It is true that the colonies had significant ethnic diversity. For those who did not have British ethnic identities, within a generation or so of coming to the colonies they and their descendants quickly developed British civic identities, often while retaining their distinct ethnic identities. In other words, to think of oneself as a British subject (regardless of ethnic origins) was to also think of oneself as an inheritor and beneficiary of the history that made Britain the most powerful empire in the world by 1763.

 

Q: Can you talk about how history was taught in schools and in colleges in the English Colonies from 1620 to 1776? For your hypothesis to be correct, I would expect to see changes in the curriculum. (Manu Radhakrishnan)

A: That is a great question but history was not often taught in schools either before or after 1776. Schools in this period, from grammar schools to academies to colleges, were based on the classical liberal model which focused on grammar, logic, and rhetoric. Students were expected to read history on their own time, but they did not have history courses and curriculums until well into the nineteenth century. Part of what I did in chapters 1 and 2 was to look into college library catalogues and how they changed over time.

 

Q: In your opinion, did Thomas Paine's writings in any meaningful way affect how Americans thought of the origins of their historical experience? (Edward Dodson)

A: I tried to offer a new take on Paine’s Common Sense based on understanding the imperial crisis through this lens of history culture in the book’s “Interlude.” Basically, I think Paine’s book and his arguments were so appealing partly because they allowed many American colonists a temporary way out of the disconnect between them and Britain, whereby they cared about the authority of the past and believed the British did not. Paine’s arguments effectively told them, forget about all that and instead worry about beginning the world anew.” He painted such a critical picture of the English past partly as a way of getting the colonists to disown it instead of constantly and futilely appealing to it. But once the war ended, the past quickly regained its previous cultural importance and it only increased in the decades after the war.

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2021 Patrick Suppes Prize in the History of Science

The recipient of the American Philosophical Society’s 2021 Patrick Suppes Prize in the History of Science is Jessica Riskin, Professor of History at Stanford University, in recognition of her book The Restless Clock: A History of the Centuries-Long Argument over What Makes Living Things Tick (University of Chicago Press, 2016).

In this ambitious and elegant book, Jessica Riskin argues that although the dominant understanding of mechanism is passive (even a clock must be wound up in order to tick), there is also a competing view of mechanism as active, enspirited, having its source of motion within it—to borrow a term from Liebniz, a “restless clock.” Mechanistic thinkers could empty nature of agency because God had set it all in motion. Yet the rise of naturalistic science left no place for divinity. Riskin traces the centuries-long struggle to banish agency from scientific explanation in favor of a passive view of nature’s machinery, while showing how this effort remained both incomplete and futile. In doing so, she boldly recasts the old vitalist-mechanist debate as a contradiction that grew out of the successive revolutionary ideas of the Reformation and Enlightenment. These were not mere abstractions; Riskin shows how the paradox became materialized, in automata, cells, robots, eggs, AI, and epigenetics. She makes a persuasive case that the early scientific attributions of action and purpose to God still haunt naturalistic explanations. No matter how rigorous and naturalistic, scientists still find the language of biological agency useful, even indispensable. In the end, as Riskin makes clear, the old tension between mechanism and purpose remains with us, and that is not a bad thing for science.

The Patrick Suppes Prize honors accomplishments in three deeply significant scholarly fields, with the prize rotating each year between philosophy of science, psychology or neuroscience, and history of science. The history of science prize is awarded for an outstanding book in history of science appearing within the preceding six years.  The works considered for the prize are restricted to works that emphasize detailed analysis of important systematic findings in any branch of science, ancient or modern, using quantitative and mathematical methods.

The selection committee was Ruth Schwartz Cowan (chair), Janice and Julian Bers Professor Emerita, History and Sociology of Science, University of Pennsylvania; Babak Ashrafi, President, Chief Executive Officer, Consortium for History of Science, Technology and Medicine; Mahzarin R. Banaji, Richard Clarke Cabot Professor of Social Ethics, Department of Psychology, Harvard University; Angela N. H. Creager, Thomas M. Siebel Professor in the History of Science, Chair, Department of History, Princeton University; Noel M. Swerdlow, Professor Emeritus of Astronomy and Astrophysics and of History, University of Chicago, Visiting Professor, California Institute of Technology; Susan Wolf, Edna J. Koury Distinguished Professor of Philosophy, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill; Harriet Zuckerman, Professor of Sociology Emerita, Columbia University; and the committee was put together by Richard Shiffrin, Distinguished Professor, Luther Dana Waterman Professor, Professor of Psychology and Cognitive Science, Indiana University.
 

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2020 Henry Allen Moe Prize

David Tatel receiving the prize certificate.
APS President Linda Greenhouse (l) and Committee Chair Elizabeth Cropper (r) presenting the prize to Judge Tatel (c).

The recipient of the 2020 Henry Allen Moe Prize is Judge David S. Tatel in recognition of his paper “Separation of Powers and Statutory Interpretation: A Battle Hidden in Plain Sight” read at the American Philosophical Society’s 2019 April Meeting and published in its Proceedings Volume 163, Number 3, September 2019.  David S. Tatel is the Senior United States Circuit Judge, United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit.  The 2020 Moe Prize was presented at the Society's November 2022 Meeting.

Of the separation of powers, James Madison wrote in Federalist 47: that “No political truth is certainly of greater intrinsic value, or is stamped with the authority of more enlightened patrons of liberty.” With this constitutional principle, instilled in every citizen from childhood, Judge David S. Tatel opens his elegant paper “Separation of Powers and Statutory Interpretation: A Battle Hidden in Plain Sight.” Declining political debate, Judge Tatel guides the reader succinctly through the arcane thicket of statutory interpretation. Unpacking the significance of the 1984 Supreme Court Chevron decision (more often cited than understood), he explains that it is not the decision itself which is of the greatest importance (although he does explain its impact), but rather the way that the “Chevron two-step” has brought about the passage of decision-making power, in effect law-making powers, to a vast range of Federal government agencies. Scrupulously avoiding interpretive partiality, Judge Tatel presents a model argument that is clear, logical, and compelling. He expresses some real concern that this transfer of power has considerably expanded the regulatory powers of new parts of the government well beyond anything envisaged by the Framers of the Constitution. Such concern has been expressed in several Supreme Court decisions summarized here by Judge Tatel, but these have not yet amounted to a redress of the balance of authority among Congress, the courts and the agencies.  This deft and plain spoken, yet subtle essay instructs the citizen reader on the often hidden, prolonged constitutional debate over the extent to which important and regular aspects of the lives of Americans are governed not by the executive branch (directly, at least), by their elected representatives, or even by the courts.  Hidden in plain sight, in Judge Tatel’s words, is the continuing struggle “to keep our three branches of government ‘separate and distinct.’”

Established in 1982 by a gift from the widow of Henry Allen Moe to honor the longtime head of the Guggenheim Foundation and president of the American Philosophical Society from 1959 to 1970. It pays particular tribute to his firm commitment to the humanities and those who pursue them. The Moe Prize is awarded annually to the author of a paper in the humanities or jurisprudence read at a Meeting of the Society.

The selection committee was Elizabeth Cropper, chair, Dean Emerita, Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts, National Gallery of Art; Michael McCormick, Goelet Professor of Medieval History, Harvard University; and Brent D. Shaw, Andrew Fleming West Professor of Classics Emeritus, Princeton University.
 

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2021 Magellanic Premium Medal

Sara Seager receiving the prize certificate.
APS President Linda Greenhouse (l) and Committee Chair Gordon Baym (r) presenting the Magellanic Premium to Sara Seager (c).

The recipient of the 2021 Magellanic Premium Medal is Sara Seager.  Sara Seager is a theoretical astrophysicist and leader in the exciting field of exoplanets, particularly in the quest to discover and analyze habitable planets beyond the solar system.  The citation inscribed on the medal is “For theoretical work that led to the first detection of exoplanet atmospheres.” The 2021 Magellanic Premium was presented at the Society's November 2022 Meeting.

Sara Seager is known for her work on exoplanet atmospheres and interiors; her modeling led to the first detection of an exoplanet atmosphere.  She was the Deputy Director of Science for NASA’s TESS satellite, which to date has discovered 66 new exoplanets, all close enough to be imaged and searched for signatures of life. Her current research focuses on the bio-signatures in the atmospheres of potential life-bearing planets that could be used to discover evidence for extraterrestrial life.  She is a Professor of Physics, Professor of Planetary Science, and a Professor of Aeronautics and Astronautics at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology where she holds the Class of 1941 Professor Chair. Her books include Exoplanet Atmospheres: Physical Processes, 2010, Exoplanets, 2010, and The Smallest Lights in the Universe: A Memoir, 2020.

Born in Toronto, Canada, she received her B.Sc. in Mathematics and Physics from the University of Toronto in 1994.  Dr. Seager did her Ph.D. work at Harvard where she developed theoretical models for atmospheres of exoplanets. Her honors include the Helen B. Warner Prize of the American Astronomical Society, a MacArthur fellowship, and membership in the National Academy of Sciences and the American Philosophical Society (elected 2018).

The award was established from a gift of 200 guineas by John Hyacinth de Magellan, of London, in 1786, “for a gold medal to be awarded from time to time under prescribed terms, to the author of the best discovery or most useful invention relating to navigation, astronomy, or natural philosophy (mere natural history only excepted).”  The medal, named the Magellanic Premium, was first awarded in 1790.   It is the oldest medal recognizing scientific achievements given by a North American institution.

The selection committee members were Gordon Baym (chair), Professor Emeritus, Research Professor, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign; Marvin Cohen, University Professor of Physics, University of California, Berkeley, Senior Faculty Scientist, Lawrence Berkeley Laboratory; Jeremiah Ostriker, Professor of Astronomy, Columbia University, Professor Emeritus of Astrophysical Sciences, Princeton University; and Michael Turner, Director, Kavli Institute for Cosmological Physics, Bruce V. and Diana M. Rauner Distinguished Service Professor, University of Chicago.

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