Rest Of America Research Articles

Evolution of the constitutional legal status of the federal territory of the District of Columbia, USA: constitutional legal risks

The subject. The article analyzes seven stages of the evolution of the constitutional legal status of the first federal territory in history the District of Columbia, USA. In the course of this analysis, the author formulates the constitutional legal risks of the existence of federal territories in the state. From the standpoint of identifying constitutional legal risks, an amendment to Article 67 of the Constitution of the Russian Federation on the possibility of the formation of federal territories on the territory of Russia is also analyzed.The purpose of the paper is to identify constitutional legal risks in terms of the existence of federal territories using the example of the centuries-old struggle of the District of Columbia for autonomy.The methodology of the study includes general scientific methods (analysis, synthesis, description) and legal methods. In addition to this, historical method was also applicable.The main results and scope of their application. The author realized, that a certain constitutional risk exists when the federal territory is established as a special public-law entity, because the evolutionary process of the constitutional-legal status of the first federal territory, that was established in constitutional law – the District of Columbia in the United States of America, demonstrated such risk. The author describes seven different stages of the evolutionary process of the DC's constitutional legal status in its pass to autonomy and full political rights: (1) 1800–1870; (2) 1871 – June of 1874; (3) 20 of June 1874 – 1967; (4) 1967–1973; (5) 1973–1983; (6) September of 1983 – 2016; (7) since 2016 until now.According to these periods, since 1801, DC residents, bound by all obligations of American citizenship, want to be equal to the rest of America's citizens. The United States is the only democratic country in the world today that denies the right to vote for a representative of the capital in the Congress. The Statehood of Washington, DC will correct a long-standing historical injustice that is unique in its nature among all capitals in the world. The author also proposes to consider as a constitutional risk the possibility of negative consequences (legal damage) for the subjects of constitutional law due to the contention of constitutional values.In addition to this, the author concluded, that there is a risk that the Council of the Federal Territory “Sirius” will lose its representative character due to the absence of the established dependence of the number of elected Council members on the number of voters, as happened in the District of Columbia, where a fixed number of Council members (13) is also established, which cannot be changed by the district and which does not depend on the population living in its territory. It is also necessary to take into account the constitutional risk of the federal territory striving for autonomy within the federation, especially in the case of the formation of a local community on its territory.

Molecular variation of Plasmodium vivax dehydrofolate reductase in Mexico and Nicaragua contrasts with that occurring in South America.

To research mutations associated to pyrimethamine resistance in dihydrofolate reductase (pvdhfr) of Plasmodium vivax from Mexico and Nicaragua and compare it to that reported in the rest of America. Genomic DNA was obtained from P. vivax-infected blood samples. A pvdhfr gene fragment was amplified and sequenced. The identified gene variations were compared to those observed in other affected sites of America. No mutations in pvdhfr were detected in P. vivax from Mexico and Nicaragua. One synonymous change and variation in the repeat domain was detected in Nicaraguan parasites. In South America, a high frequency of variant residues 58R and 117N associated to pyrimethamine resistance was reported. The lack of polymorphisms associated with pyrimethamine resistance suggests that drug-resistant P. vivax has not penetrated Mesoamerica, nor have local parasites been under selective pressure. These data contribute to establish the basis for the epidemiological surveillance of drug resistance.

The Search for Southern Digital History: A Review Essay

The Search for Southern Digital History:A Review Essay Anne Sarah Rubin (bio) Civil War on the Western Border: The Missouri-Kansas Conflict, 1854–1865 (Kansas City Public Library), civilwaronthewesternborder.org Colored Conventions Project (University of Delaware and Pennsylvania State University), coloredconventions.org Visualizing Emancipation (University of Richmond), dsl.richmond.edu/emancipation Mapping Occupation (University of Georgia), mappingoccupation.org O Say Can You See: Early Washington, D.C., Law and Family (University of Nebraska), earlywashingtondc.org CSI: Dixie: The View from the American South's County Coroners' Offices, 1800–1900 (University of Georgia), csidixie.org Freedom on the Move: Rediscovering the Stories of Self-Liberating People (Cornell University et al.), freedomonthemove.org SNCC Digital Gateway (SNCC Legacy Project and Duke University), snccdigital.org Tell about the South. What's it like there. What do they do there. Why do they live there. Why do they live at all."1 There may be no greater cliché than beginning an essay or article by quoting Shreve's demand of Quentin Compson in William Faulkner's Absalom, Absalom! (1936). But that is what we do as southern historians, delve into the past to understand and explain, to recognize, empathize, and criticize. And for almost thirty years we have been doing that work online, using tools and techniques that would have been unimaginable a generation earlier. Most obviously, the mass digitization of sources has changed the way historians work, allowing for a depth of engagement with primary sources and data analysis that would not have been possible to do by hand. I think of myself as a member of this transitional generation: not a [End Page 877] so-called digital native, but an early adopter who has thought a lot about the potential and limits of what was once known as New Media.2 When the Journal of Southern History approached me about writing this review essay, the questions that sprang immediately to mind centered on the intersection between new methods and enduring issues. Specifically, what does it mean to study southern history in the digital age? How can digital history best illuminate the past? To attempt to answer these questions, I have broken this essay into three parts: one defining southern, one defining digital history, and the final section reviewing a range of projects. For most of the twentieth century, the study of southern history was intertwined with the study of southern identity—to be a southernist is to study people as much as a place. What did it mean to be a southerner? How did this different region emerge in the decades—or centuries—before the Civil War, and to what extent did that difference endure? How American was the South, and arguably how southern is the rest of America? From U. B. Phillips's "central theme" to W. J. Cash's mind of the "man at the center," through C. Vann Woodward's irony and burdens, the main tension was one of continuity versus change.3 Could southerners shake off their past? Would they lose their distinctiveness by so doing? What was worth celebrating? That search was dominated by the long shadow of racial slavery. It, and the system of Jim Crow that replaced it, seemed to be a sort of perverse touchstone for those early generations of white southern explainers. As Woodward explained in 1958, "To establish identity by reference to our faults was always simplest, for whatever their reservations about our virtues, our critics were never reluctant to concede us our vices and faults."4 Woodward and his fellow searchers also saw southern identity in implicitly racial terms—as a white identity and a white problem. Forty years later, Edward L. Ayers made much the same point as Woodward, regarding the South as the repository of American faults, [End Page 878] noting that the region was always described in opposition to the rest of the country: "The South plays a key role in the nation's self-image: the role of evil tendencies overcome, of mistakes atoned for, of progress yet to be made." Ayers's South is more diverse and dynamic than Woodward's was (which in turn challenged the static region of Cash...

Journal Work in the Time of Coronavirus

Journal Work in the Time of Coronavirus Jennifer L. Airey This is not the preface I intended to write. This preface was going to focus on our journal internships, but then a deadly pandemic upended all our lives with a speed that I could never have imagined, and a disrupted preface became the least of anyone's concerns. Now we are all working from home, socially distanced, and facing deep uncertainties about health and safety, the United States' economy, and the future of higher education itself. In such times, my natural tendency is to process life through the lens of fiction. I am hardly alone in this; movies like Contagion (2011) and Outbreak (1995) have shot to the top of the national streaming charts.1 Personally, alongside binge-watching Tiger King (2020) with the rest of America, I have been trying to cope by rereading Daniel Defoe's A Journal of the Plague Year (1722) and feeling closer to my early modern forebears than ever before. For years, I have taught my students about the closing of theaters in times of plague and about the early modern antitheatrical belief that the playhouse was a site of both physical and moral contagion. I certainly never expected to live through a time when our own theaters and playhouses would have to shut down for the "plague," when the early modern remedy of distance would be the only hope available to us, too. I have also been thinking about Mary Shelley's The Last Man (1826), which I wrote about extensively in my recently published monograph, Religion Around Mary Shelley (2019).2 Shelley did not live through a pandemic, but she did experience great loss—of her husband, her children, her half-sister, and many friends—and at the age of twenty-six, she wrote the first post-apocalyptic novel to represent creatively the experience of constant bereavement. She wrote in her journal on 24 May 1824, "The last man! Yes I may well describe that solitary being's feelings, feeling myself as the last relic of a beloved race, my companions, extinct before me."3 I have always loved the novel and have taught it several times, but it takes on new resonance in our current historical moment, with scenes of people calling out to a dysfunctional government to save them even as "commerce had ceased"; disease bringing out both the worst and the best in ordinary folk; the public hoping the change in season will save them from the disease (in The Last Man, characters wait for the winter to freeze the virus, while we pin our hopes on increased temperatures); and people finding in religion both solace and exploitation.4 For me personally, what resonates most in Shelley's novel is the speed and suddenness of the plague's onset. Much of the book has nothing to do with the pandemic; it spends many pages detailing the political intrigues and romantic entanglements of two main couples. [End Page 7] The disease itself does not emerge until midway through volume two, and it does not begin to affect England until the end of that volume. The plague originates in a far-away place in the east, and it does not mean anything to the novel's main characters . . . until suddenly it does. My own year has been deeply wrapped up in local concerns, serving as Faculty Senate Vice President in a time of university turmoil, and those concerns were all consuming, too . . . until suddenly they were not. On Monday, March 9—less than three weeks ago as I write this preface—I heard the first rumblings that we might need to shift to online learning after spring break. At the time, that conversation seemed overly alarmist to me, but within twenty-four hours, the stock market was in freefall, COVID-19 cases were being diagnosed in Tulsa, and we were moving immediately to social distancing and online classes. By Friday, all of our lives—faculty, students, staff, and administrators alike—had shifted in ways that did not seem possible on Monday. Now university concerns, when we can think about them, are both perversely comforting (because they are familiar, a reminder of...

The New American Judaism: How Jews Practice Their Religion Today by Jack Wertheimer (review)

Reviewed by: The New American Judaism: How Jews Practice Their Religion Today by Jack Wertheimer Pamela S. Nadell Jack Wertheimer. The New American Judaism: How Jews Practice Their Religion Today. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018. 379 pp. doi:10.1017/S0364009419000758 In this impressive book Jack Wertheimer maps the new American Judaism that contemporary Jews have invented amid a recession among almost all American religions. Using three lenses, he considers first the religious beliefs and practices of ʿamkha, the people, illuminating their lived religion, what they believe and do. Wertheimer plumbs what they feel about God (mostly skepticism), what compels a relatively small proportion of Conservative and Reform Jews to worship regularly (not prayer), and why tikkun ʿolam, reinvented as social justice, has become a "surrogate religion" (universalism) (42). No one will be surprised to read that for non-Orthodox Jews, key sites of religious performance are child-centered rituals and peak life-cycle events. Obviously, these are important also to the Orthodox, but their lived religion is wider and deeper. Structural differences set the Orthodox apart. Marrying earlier, becoming parents sooner, and having more children than other American Jews, they transition quickly as young adults into communal institutions. They join synagogues within walking distance of their homes and send their children to day schools. Whether they are Haredi, Modern Orthodox, or Sephardic—an often-overlooked minority—Orthodox Jews remain different from the rest of America's Jews. Despite pronouncements to the contrary, Orthodoxy, encompassing a variety of beliefs and practices, has always been affected by wider currents. Today they come in the form of new technologies enabling and challenging observance. Orthodox Jews can turn their high-end refrigerators to a Sabbath setting to avoid violating religious law by inadvertently turning on a light as they open the door. Meanwhile, thanks to the Internet's limitless resources, rulings, once the province of a small elite, are open to all. Today some Orthodox Jewish women and men act as their own legal decisors. Wertheimer's second lens focuses on the Jewish denominations, "leaky vessels" that have already lost much of their influence (101). As is well known, Reform Judaism is now the largest of the movements. Open for decades to the intermarried, who now make up large segments of its synagogue members, Reform Judaism centers autonomy, choice, and social justice at its core. Despite its successes, Wertheimer is pessimistic about its future. Few Jews raised Reform join the movement's synagogues when they grow up. Few attend regular worship. Some Reform rabbis despair over their congregants' "terrible Judaism" (115). [End Page 484] For Reform Judaism, Wertheimer starts with success and portends decline. With the Conservative movement he opens with its failures—the hemorrhaging of members, mostly to Reform, some to Orthodoxy, and who knows how many to assimilation; the graying of those left behind; and the historic rift in praxis and belief between rabbis and laity. This time, however, he ends optimistically, finding renewed vitality among the movement's remaining synagogues as they experiment with new forms of spirituality and energize their services with song and dance. He takes comfort in reminding us that when it comes to levels of religious observance, only Orthodox Jews score higher than the Conservative. But surely, this has long been true among American Jews. Is Wertheimer unduly hopeful? The reader should remember that he has spent his entire career at the Jewish Theological Seminary, training Conservative Judaism's future rabbis and leaders. As for the Modern Orthodox, despite apparent success in transmitting their values to the next generation, they too face difficulties. Their population remains static while the Haredim, with their much larger families, make up a growing share of the Orthodox world. Wertheimer rightly points to the disturbing cognitive dissonance Modern Orthodox Jews experience over women's limited religious status, especially their inability to initiate divorce, which violates the gender norms these men and women uphold elsewhere in their lives. With denominationalism under critique across American religion, Wertheimer writes positively about successful transdenominational initiatives, such as Birthright with its free Israel trips for youth, the many communal Jewish adult education programs, and day schools. Nevertheless, expecting the movements to survive, he prescribes what...

Per-Capita Medicare Expenditures, Primary Care Access, Mortality Rates, and the Least Healthy Cities in America

PurposeTo determine whether several measures of health care expenditures, access, and outcomes for the 25 recently identified “least healthy cities in America” differed from those in the rest of America. MethodsFor 2004 and 2013, we obtained publicly available price-, age-, sex-, and race-adjusted hospital service area per-capita Medicare expenditures; age-, sex-, and race-adjusted Medicare mortality rates; and 2 indicators of primary care access: the proportion of enrollees having at least one ambulatory visit to a primary care clinician and the per-capita discharge rate for ambulatory care sensitive conditions. Using population weighting, we used Student t test for expenditure data and the chi-squared test for access and outcomes data to compare results of the 25 least healthy cities in aggregate to the rest of America. ResultsIn both years examined, the 25 least healthy cities had substantially (about $500 per capita per year) and statistically significantly higher total per-capita Medicare Part A and Part B expenditures than the rest of America: about 4/5 of this difference was due to higher hospital and skilled nursing facility expenditures; physician expenditures were modestly lower in the 25 least healthy cities. While a greater proportion of Medicare beneficiaries in the least healthy cities had a primary care clinician both years, mortality and ambulatory care sensitive condition admission rates were substantially higher in the least healthy cities. ConclusionsPolicymakers and health system executives should work together to determine the best asset allocation across determinants of health that maximizes value creation from a community health perspective.

La segunda factoría de la Habana antes de la Guerra de la Independencia de las trece colonias 1760-1779. Una lectura desde el estanco español

Our main objective is to verify the Spanish problems of Spanish estanco relative to its main supplier, the Island of Cuba. The return to direct management by the Monarchy of the production, sale and export of Cuban tobacco as a leading provider of Metropolitan estanco, once passed the accident of taking of Havana by the English, was accompanied by the expansion of culture in the Island, but not the increase in longterm consumption of the product in the Metropolitan estanco. Two types of tobacco, the Virginian, and especially the Brazilian one, continued to maintain a privileged position in the Spanish market. On the other hand, the more opening of Havana to American market coincides with the creation of estancos in the rest of America. According to the known estimations, at least until the period of the War of Independence of the Thirteen Colonies, the solution to the problems of excess production did not take place in the Antillean Island

The Civil Rights Era and Southern History

The books under review here invite readers to think critically about a problem Matthew Lassiter and Joseph Crespino addressed in their edited volume, The Myth of Southern Exceptionalism. What does it mean, Lassiter and Crespino asked, to recognize that it is time to end the kind of distinctive Southern history and historiography that presents the South not merely as a different region, but as a place that is “exceptional from the rest of America and in historical opposition to the dominant national trends”?1 Some of the books under review contain analyses that show how the culture, politics, and economics that shaped Southern societies during the Civil Rights era connected those places to—rather than separated them from—other parts of the country. Rather than an exceptional place defined solely by regional and historical peculiarities, some of these books show how, “southern and American history are transformed

Determinates of Executive Compensation

Executive compensation continues to grow at a time when the rest of America is hurting. Why is this so? Many business pundits believe that there is a total disconnect between executive compensation and company performance. The purpose of this paper is to illustrate how hierarchical modeling can be used to better understand the relationship between executive compensation and organizational efficacy. An analysis of S&P1500 firms for 2004 was performed using a two level hierarchical design. The results show that a number of manager and firm characteristics affect total compensation including executive age, revenues and Tobin's Q. These results can be used by compensation committees to better align executive pay with firm performance and prevailing social norms.

The Days Are Gods by Liz Stephens (review)

Reviewed by: The Days Are Gods by Liz Stephens George Handley Liz Stephens, The Days Are Gods. Lincoln: U of Nebraska P, 2013. 216pp. $18.95. Mark Twain was perhaps the first of outside visitors to Mormon Utah, arriving with pen in hand, eager to give account of the strangeness and oddity of Mormon community life. For a Mormon writer like myself, who was born in Utah but raised and educated on both coasts, I can sympathize with the difficulty of penetrating such peculiar communities that are seemingly out of sync with mainstream America, as I can with the temptation to see them, embedded as they are in the landscape and within their own cultural language, as one might see animals in a zoo—as admirable, perhaps, but also as exotic types, fenced off from the lived reality of the writer and, for that matter, the rest of America. For this reason Mormon readers in Utah rarely enjoy reading accounts of Mormon life in small towns since they are usually written by those who have not lived intimately and lovingly among them and who can’t quite hide their condescension. [End Page 125] Liz Stephen’s memoir, The Days Are Gods, is pitch perfect. She understands the strangeness of her pursuit of her own version of western mythology—a deep-seated feeling that she must uproot herself from the fast pace of life in Los Angeles and launch her own proverbial return to the land, where she can live simply, where animals and open space are abundant, and where people live rooted lives of simple and shared values. She thematizes the odd relationship this then gives her to the small Mormon community of Wellsville in Cache Valley, where she spends three years. She is not afraid to pose the needed questions about this community—about its homogeneity and its seeming superficial awareness of the pain experienced by those of sexual or ethnic difference in their midst, for example—but her own awareness and sensitivity to difference is not her trump card used against these people. For one, she knows them because she has invested every effort to establish relationships with them. She writes: “I do not think the locals are cute and a charming part of the scenery. I think they carry within them something magic, as do, it turns out, people everywhere who have stayed still in one place long enough to accrue this grace: a deep sense of place that I wish I could beg, barter, or steal off of them” (122). She admires their relationship to the land and to animals, their extraordinary intimacy and trust, the wandering, playing children for whom everyone bears responsibility, and their simple pleasures, values that she also understands that places like Los Angeles, for all their multicultural understanding, have long since lost or never had. And she wants these values for herself and her husband and for their Utah-born daughter, and she is willing to work for them, most notably in her determination to understand the community and its history, in her search for her own genealogical story that stems from agricultural life in Oklahoma, and ultimately in her loving tribute to the land and the people that we fortunate readers of her book have in our hand. But neither places nor people are stone monuments; they are more like slow-moving rivers of change. For this reason the book stands as a bittersweet memorial to the work it takes to have a sense of place. I say bittersweet not only because Stephens sees the town changing before her eyes, becoming less rooted and less rural every day, but also because ultimately she must leave the town [End Page 126] and the state, a poignant reminder that a sense of place in America today may have to become portable, a way of moving from one place to the next in an increasingly and perhaps irrevocably mobile world. For this reader there is the additional sadness of my home state of Utah losing an outstanding voice. Stephens writes with a light touch, with humor and self-deprecation, and with prose that falls as gently as snow in the still air. The...

San Antonio As a Face of the Future

San Antonio As a Face of the Future

As the sun set on Europe: Marvelous Realism and a new place for America

This article considers how Marvelous Realism, a predecessor of Magical Realism formulated by the Cuban author Alejo Carpentier, contributes to an understanding of the United States as part of America. Past efforts to maintain a separation of the United States from the rest of America have distorted cultural studies and impeded useful political projects. Although sound political concerns, along with disciplinary boundaries, exist for moving cautiously while revising current views of the United States as an entity necessarily opposed to Latin America, scholars need not always uphold invasive or hegemonic forces as they discover links between these seemingly disparate American places. Developing ideas found in the writings of José Martí and other American philosophers, Carpentier found powerful connections between Latin America and the rest of America – whatever one calls it – even as he engaged in excoriations of Washington's misuse of power and the undue influence of Hollywood. In addition to defining Marvelous Realism, Carpentier's Prologue to El reino de este mundo shows how it applies to literature, painting, and music in ways that have the power to transform our understanding of how fusions of the three populated continents on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean brought about a profusion of American cultures. Reading Carpentier's 1948 explanation of Magical Realism in the context of his earlier articles serialized in Carteles in 1941 demonstrates the utility as well as the logic of – sometimes – bringing America together.

The Frontier of Leisure in California and the Shaping of Modern America (review)

Reviewed by: The Frontier of Leisure in California and the Shaping of Modern America William Philpott The Frontier of Leisure in California and the Shaping of Modern America. By Lawrence Culver. New York: Oxford University Press, 2010. x + 317 pages, $29.95. Click for larger view View full resolution Anaheim Public Library, Bookmobile, Interior View. Ca. 1960. Photograph. Accession #P1756. Courtesy of the Anaheim Public Library. Depicted here is the first bookmobile operated by the Anaheim Public Library, purchased in 1958. The history of the bookmobile in the United States began with a horse and wagon at the Washington County Free Library in Hagerstown, Maryland; during the 1950s and '60s, bookmobiles proliferated with an increase in literacy and a decentralization of the reading public. [End Page 326] "Ranch houses suit any climate," declared House Beautiful in 1947. With its rambling, casual floor plan and its sliding doors and patios blurring outdoors and in, the ranch house might epitomize sunny Southern California, but it was equally at home in Connecticut or Illinois, the author of the article insisted (House Beautiful, January 1947, 61). For the ranch, more than just a house style, was "a Way of Living," a means of "planning house and site together" to achieve comfort, privacy, and "outdoor living in any season anywhere" (House Beautiful 66, 61, 66). This idea—that Southern California spawned not just a style but a lifestyle, premised on outdoor recreation in the privacy of one's own yard and home—is the core of Lawrence Culver's new monograph. We have long needed a history of Southern California's distinctive culture of leisure and its consequences, and now in this superb book we have it. A richness of recent scholarship has illuminated Southern California's cultural, racial, political, and environmental histories. Culver breaks new ground by revealing the central role leisure played in all of them. Leisure drove Southern California's growth from the late nineteenth century on as boosters promised tourists and new residents alike a relaxed, pastoral retreat from the East's urban chaos. Leisure reshaped environmental attitudes when Southern Californians learned to value nature more for personal pleasure than for national greatness or resource wealth, and leisure molded architecture and planning, as houses, yards, and subdivisions were designed to give homeowners their own private recreational spaces. Key to Culver's argument, leisure helped define social difference—including the very idea of "whiteness" in a racially diverse region—as these private, backyard leisure spaces took precedence over public ones and people of color found themselves barred from both. And not least, leisure catalyzed a significant social and political shift when consumers came to value their private recreational domains over community and collective enterprise. In short, leisure forged a world of equal parts "opportunity and oppression, happiness and hardship" (3); one of this book's great strengths is that Culver refuses to cast it in simplistic black-or-white terms. Especially after World War II, this culture of leisure would spread beyond Southern California, becoming America's middle-class, suburban culture writ large. Not a comprehensive history of Southern California leisure, Culver's book instead focuses on several pivotal people and places. Readers of this journal should especially appreciate his chapter on Charles Fletcher Lummis, the turn-ofthe-century author whose self-professed "scholarly" writings on the scenery and Native cultures of the Southwest helped make Los Angeles a major tourist destination. [End Page 327] Here Culver links Southern California's recreational rise to the longer history of American conquest in the Southwest, as Anglo boosters like Lummis relegated indigenous Mexicans and Indians to a romantic, idyllic past while also expecting them to work in the present so whites might play. Another chapter considers the history of recreational segregation in Los Angeles. Though leisure anchored LA's civic identity, Culver shows, the city and county prioritized private over public recreation and strove to exclude nonwhites from what little public park and beach space there was. African Americans, in particular, fought back, claiming and creating recreational settings for themselves. But LA's legacy would be one of recreational reinforcing of residential segregation, a sad blueprint for suburbia in the rest of America. Two...

Mobilizing the community for better health: what the rest of America can learn from Northern Manhattan

List of FiguresList of TablesForeword by Gail ChristopherAcknowledgmentsPart I: Beginnings Introduction: The Northern Manhattan Community Voices Collaborative Allan J. Formicola and Lourdes Hern ndez-Cordero1. Creating the Collaborative Foundation Allan J. Formicola, Mois s P rez, and James McIntosh 2. The Collaborative Structure and the Challenges We Faced Sandra HarrisPart II: Promoting Health and Primary Care 3. Community Health Workers: A Successful Strategy for Restoring the Health of a Community Mois s P rez, Jacqueline Mart nez, and Laura Frye4. Asthma Basics for Children (ABC): Building an Asthma Support System from the Ground Up Sally E. Findley with Gloria Thomas, Rosa Madera-Reese, Mar a Lizardo, Mario Drummonds, and Benjamin Ortiz5. Start Right Coalition: Building on Community Initiatives for Childhood Immunization Promotion Sally E. Findley with Martha S nchez, Miriam Mej a, Mario Drummonds, and Matilde Irigoyen6. The Legacy Smoking-Cessation Project Cheryl Ragonesi, Martin Ovalles, and Daniel F. SeidmanPart III: Strengthening the Safety Net 7. Salud a Su Alcance (SASA): Health Within Your Reach Anita Lee8. Health Information Tool for Empowerment (HITE): Making Health Care Resources a Mouse Click Away Yisel Alonzo9. HealthGap and the NMCVC's Effort to Cover the Uninsured Harris K. (Ken) Lampert10. Healthy Choices: Mobilizing Community Assets to Combat the Twin Epidemic of Obesity and Diabetes Jacqueline Mart nez and Yisel AlonzoPart IV: Providing Dental and Mental Health Care 11. Columbia Community DentCare Program Stephen Marshall, David Albert, and Dennis Mitchell12. Mental Health Policy Paper: Giving Voice to a Neglected Epidemic Lourdes Hern ndez-Cordero13. The Thelma C. Davidson Adair Medical/Dental Center Allan J. FormicolaPart V: Summing Up and Scaling Up 14. Summing Up Allan J. Formicola and Lourdes Hern ndez-Cordero15. Scaling Up Lourdes Hern ndez-Cordero, Susan Sturm, Kathleen Klink, and Allan J. FormicolaEpilogueAcronyms Used in the BookList of ContributorsIndex

Changing Places: Las Vegas/San Francisco/New Orleans

Dates: 2001-2007Locations: Las Vegas/San Francisco/New OrleansSupporting Institution: funding for the project has been provided by Bowdoin College These photographs come from a long-term and ongoing project concerned with how we perceive and are affected by changes in the places we inhabit. New Orleans finds itself in a precarious position relative to the “natural” demands of its geographic location. Eighty percent of the city was flooded in 2005; as many of us now realize, most of the city is located below the level of the water that borders it. Due to where it is physically located, in 50 years New Orleans will most likely look nothing like it does today.Coincident to or perhaps because of its location, New Orleans has developed an identity that represents a diversion from the cultural norms associated with mainstream America. Known as the Big Easy for the ease with which musicians could find work, it displays front and center its difference from the rest of America during its celebration of Mardi Gras.What should be an obvious truth, that a place’s physical location and features have a profound affect on the lives and outlooks of its inhabitants, is often overlooked. Saying we live “in” a place, rather than “on” or “with” it, concedes how entirely a place encompasses us physically. It acknowledges the pervasive affect the place’s external imperatives have upon our psyches, our perceptions of self and others, andthe desires we pursue.Now that popular consensus is embracing the fact that our world is growing warmer, the uncertain futures this city faces today may well be a harbinger of change facing the places we all live in. Has a sequence of events already been set in motion that will irrevocably alter how and where all of us will be able to live? And if so, how will this fact affect how we relate to each other and to the places we inhabit?These photographs describe relationships between elements in the landscape that are specific to a particular day, hour, and fraction of a second. What is important to keep in mind is that each triptych presented here comprises a series of individual and distinct photographs. Each individual “frame” within the triptych is its own point in time and each corresponds to a distinct piece of film that I exposed. Taking in the scene presented by the triptych is analogous to how each of us encounters a prospect. By pausing slightly and regularly we set into motion a mental “imagining” in order to see things more completely.I hope each piece’s particularity, its reference to a specific location in time as well as space, stimulates speculation about how different that place appears at this very moment, were you able to behold it for yourself. And more exciting is to ponder what it might look like tomorrow, next month, and 50 years hence.

Uneven ground: Appalachia since 1945

Appalachia has played a complex and often contradictory role in the unfolding of American history. Created by urban journalists in the years following the Civil War, the idea of Appalachia provided a counterpoint to emerging definitions of progress. Early-twentieth-century critics of modernity saw the region as a remnant of frontier life, a reflection of simpler times that should be preserved and protected. However, supporters of development and of the growth of material production, consumption, and technology decried what they perceived as the isolation and backwardness of the place and sought to 'uplift' the mountain people through education and industrialization.Ronald D Eller has worked with local leaders, state policymakers, and national planners to translate the lessons of private industrial-development history into public policy affecting the region. In Uneven Ground, Eller examines the politics of development in Appalachia after World War II with an eye toward exploring the idea of progress as it has evolved in modern America. Appalachia's struggle to overcome poverty, to live in harmony with the land, and to respect the diversity of cultures and the value of community is also an American story. In the end, Eller concludes, 'Appalachia was not different from the rest of America; it was in fact a mirror of what the nation was becoming'.

Unique Observations on a Common Problem

Unique Observations on a Common Problem

Banned in Kansas: motion picture censorship, 1915-1966

If you caught a movie in through much of the past century, you're likely to have seen a different version than did the rest of America. Theda Bara's depictions of wicked sexuality were off-limits, and a film such as Scarface showed far too much violence for decent folk - a threat to Protestant culture and to the morals of the general population. In 1915, became one of only a handful of states to establish its own film censorship board. The board controlled screen content in the state for more than fifty years, yet little is known about its activities. This first book-length study of state film censorship examines the unique political, social, and economic factors that led to its implementation in Kansas, examining why censorship legislation was enacted, what the attitudes of Kansans were toward censorship, and why it lasted for half a century. Cinema historian Gerald Butters places the Board of Review's attempts to control screen content in the context of nationwide censorship efforts during the early part of the twentieth century. He tells how factors such as Progressivism, concern over child rearing, and a supportive press contributed to censorship, and he traces the board's history from the problems posed by the emergence of talkies through changing sexual mores in the 1920s to challenges to its power in the 1950s. In addition to revealing the fine points of film content deemed too sensitive for screening, Butters describes the daily operations of the board, illustrating the difficulties it encountered as it wrestled not only with constantly shifting definitions of morality but also with the vagaries of the political and legal systems. Stills from motion pictures illustrate the type of screen content the board attempted to censor. As faced the march of modernity, even state politicians began to criticize film censorship, and Butters tells how by the 1960s the board was fighting to remain relevant as film companies increasingly challenged its attempt to control screen content. Banned in Kansas weaves a fascinating tale of the enforcement of public morality, making it a definitive study for cinema scholars and an entertaining read for film buffs.

Editorial – The Global Warming Fight is “Bringing Sexy Back,” Are You Ready?

Editorial: The Global Warming Fight is “Bringing Sexy Back”*, Are You Ready? Marta Maja Jankowska Washington DC, USA Several people call it the “green fad”, some call it a revolution. Whatever ‘it’ is, something is radically changing the way Americans are viewing and reacting to global warming. In the late 90’s global warming was a washed out political issue that seemed to disappear from Americans’ radar of concerns. People fighting global warming were ripping their hair out trying to find ways to get people to care. And here we are today; hybrid car sales are through the roof, it’s all the rage to be ‘green’ in Hollywood, Christians are working to save the planet, and even the White House recently admitted that global warming is threatening polar bears. So what happened? It is my belief that global warming was never meant for politics, but that is where it got stuck in the 90’s. It was not until 2000 when our attention got turned elsewhere that the issue of climate change returned to its roots within the environmental, scientific and academic communities. There it could literally re-grow as a moral issue that resonated in a new way for Americans. In 2005 and 2006 concern about global warming exploded as Americans began empowered themselves and their communities through new forms of communication, sharing of ideas, and examples in every day life. America is finally bringing global warming back. The Politics Global warming has been tied to the Left ever since the euphemism ‘tree hugging liberal’ was coined. I distinctly remember heated conversations with conservative friends who saw global warming as a bunch of hocus pocus, and potential anti global warming laws as problematic for the economy, while I stood my ground being the good ‘tree hugger’ I was. We each prided ourselves on having open minds, but in the end we were both looking for the answer we wanted to see, the same answer that the political groups we belonged to deemed ‘correct.’ As exemplified by my friends and me, much of the rest of America’s opinions about global warming depended on party affiliation. Global warming got caught up in politics initially because of its potential lure for voter turnout. The academic, scientific and environmental communities are a large part of the Democratic Party’s base, and as talk and research about global warming grew, the Party could not ignore the potential of global warming as an issue to get concerned voters to the polls. Of course there were Democrats who where concerned about global warming such as Al

Away down South: a history of southern identity

From the seventeenth century Cavaliers and Uncle Tom's Cabin to Civil Rights museums and today's conflicts over the Confederate flag, here is a brilliant portrait of southern identity, served in an engaging blend of history, literature, and popular culture. In this insightful book, written with dry wit and sharp insight, James C. Cobb explains how the South first came to be seen-and then came to see itself-as a region apart from the rest of America. As Cobb demonstrates, the legend of the aristocratic Cavalier origins of southern planter society was nurtured by both northern and southern writers, only to be challenged by abolitionist critics, black and white. After the Civil War, defeated and embittered southern whites incorporated the Cavalier myth into the cult of the Lost Cause, which supplied the emotional energy for their determined crusade to rejoin the Union on their own terms. After World War I, white writers like Ellen Glasgow, William Faulkner and other key figures of Renaissance as well as their African American counterparts in the Harlem Renaissance-Cobb is the first to show the strong links between the two movements-challenged the New South creed by asking how the grandiose vision of the South's past could be reconciled with the dismal reality of its present. The Southern self-image underwent another sea change in the wake of the Civil Rights movement, when the end of white supremacy shook the old definition of the way of life-but at the same time, African Americans began to examine their southern roots more openly and embrace their regional, as well as racial, identity. As the millennium turned, the South confronted a new identity crisis brought on by global homogenization: if Southern culture is everywhere, has the New South become the No South? Here then is a major work by one of America's finest Southern historians, a magisterial synthesis that combines rich scholarship with provocative new insights into what the South means to southerners and to America as well.