At once riveting and poignant, The Sinking of the Eastland brings to life a bygone era that yielded one of the most significant American disasters of the last century.

    Historic photographs, placed side-by-side with current-day views of the same locations, provide a visual tour of the beautiful city that began to flourish in the late 18th century. Included are perspectives on historic landmarks as well as modern sites such as Monon Trail and Circle Centre.

    This much-loved series used as its backdrop the "sweet city of dreaming spires," but revealed this ancient city in more than its traditional light. The celebrated university buildings are there, but as a setting for crimes committed by corrupt academics, the "Gown." The other side of Oxford was portrayed, the "Town" and the countryside around, with its equally devious criminals. Grappling with them, and with growing technology, was an old-fashioned improbable sleuth, modern only in his lack of deference for his superiors. This new edition, updated with new material to include locations for the recent production of "Lewis," is a must-read for all Morse lovers, as well as providing much to interest and inspire locals and tourists alike.

    The dream of running a restaurant. In Uckfield, East Sussex. Uckfield didn't actually appear in the dream. But for Christopher Nye it was the perfect choice: a small town, but not too small; a town crying out for American-style diner; a town without a McDonald's. Here's the story of how to make it big in small-town Britain.

    Board of Education. Jack Dougherty counters this interpretation, demonstrating that black activists engaged in multiple, overlapping, and often conflicting strategies to advance the race by gaining greater control over schools.Dougherty tells the story of black school reform movements in Milwaukee from the 1930s to the 1990s, highlighting the multiple perspectives within each generation. In profiles of four leading activists, he reveals how different generations redefined the meaning of the Brown decision over time to fit the historical conditions of their particular struggles. William Kelley of the Urban League worked to win teaching jobs for blacks and to resettle Southern black migrant children in the 1950s; Lloyd Barbee of the NAACP organized protests in support of integrated schools and the teaching of black history in the 1960s; and Marian McEvilly and Howard Fuller contested--in different ways--the politics of implementing desegregation in the 1970s, paving the way for the 1990s private school voucher movement. Dougherty concludes by contrasting three interpretations of the progress made in the fifty years since Brown, showing how historical perspective can shed light on contemporary debates over race and education reform.

    With bold capes jutting into the ocean, sandy shoals extending miles offshore, fickle weather, and treacherous currents, it is no wonder that the coastline of the Old North State came to be known as the "The Graveyard of the Atlantic." The inherent dangers of traveling North Carolina's coast long ago gave rise to a fascinating and world-renowned strand of lighthouses and lifesaving stations from Currituck to Cape Fear. For more than two centuries, these bright beacons of safety have guided ships into busy harbors, signaled dangerous navigational obstacles, and warmed the hearts of homesick travelers. Their unique shapes and stoic beauty, as well as the adventures and lore that surround them, have elevated North CarolinaÂ's lighthouses to a legendary level far beyond their practical purposes. Indeed, they have become symbols of a brave and triumphant way of life. As the use of satellite navigation increases, many of the lighthouses along the coast are being phased out of operation. Not surprisingly, a new wave of travelers have begun making pilgrimages, whether by land or sea, to visit these famous landmarks. Tourists from all over the world now make the journey to lighthouses at Currituck Beach, Bodie Island, Cape Hatteras, and others. North Carolina Lighthouses and Lifesaving Stations presents to readers the tales behind the lighthouses, illuminating their past in both word and image.

    . . . The writing is witty, bold and enticing.” —Andres Tijerina, author of Tejano Empire: Life on the South Texas RanchosNot quite the United States and not quite Mexico, La Junta de los Rios straddles the border between Texas and Chihuahua, occupying the basin formed by the conjunction of the Rio Grande and the Rio Conchos. It is one of the oldest continuously inhabited settlements in the Chihuahuan Desert, ranking in age and dignity with the Anasazi pueblos of New Mexico. In the first comprehensive history of the region, Jefferson Morgenthaler traces the history of La Junta de los Rios from the formation of the Mexico-Texas border in the mid-19th century to the 1997 ambush shooting of teenage goatherd Esquiel Hernandez by U.S. Marines performing drug interdiction in El Polvo, Texas. “Though it is scores of miles from a major highway, I found natives, soldiers, rebels, bandidos, heroes, scoundrels, drug lords, scalp hunters, medal winners, and mystics,” writes Morgenthaler. “I found love, tragedy, struggle, and stories that have never been told.” In telling the turbulent history of this remote valley oasis, he examines the consequences of a national border running through a community older than the invisible line that divides it.

    Jim Vrabel delves into significant, entertaining, and unusual events in Boston history, in categories ranging from population, planning, and development, to politics, religion, and social change, to education, the arts, and sports.

    The town, founded in 1866, has often been embroiled in tragedy and controversy. Beginning with the infamous Molly Maguires, Centralia was confronted with the murder of its founder and an assault upon its Catholic priest, who cursed the town, saying, "One day this town will be erased from the face of the earth." Almost one hundred years later, a vein of coal that ran underneath the town caught fire and has burned since 1962. In the 1990s, the state of Pennsylvania declared eminent domain and forced most of the town's sixteen hundred residents to leave. Ten people remain in Centralia today. This book chronicles many of the images and stories from this fascinating and colorful Pennsylvania community.

    Yet Sibley's history reveals universal tensions about the duality of the nineteenth century frontiersman who is at once an accommodating trade partner of the Indian/European/Metis worlds and the conquering government official of the ever-expanding West. Rhoda Gilman has spent over thirty years examining Sibley--through hints and fragments of stories that Sibley himself left in articles, an unfinished autobiography, and scores of family letters--and uncovers in this perceptive and balanced biography the complexities of a man who embodied these clashing extremes. As Gilman writes in her preface,On the broader stage of national history Sibley's life spanned nineteenth-century America. Rooted in the political and social establishment of the old Northwest Territory, he witnessed the colonizing of a continent and its people, the closing of the frontier, the agony of civil war, and the explosive birth of an urban, industrial society. He was keenly conscious of what he conceived to be the nation?s destiny, and he identified closely with it. An heir to the Indian policy of Lewis Cass, who had managed to dispossess the Great Lakes tribes without war, Sibley belonged to the generation that was left to pay the price of that betrayal in blood and shame. And unlike Cass, he had personal ties to the Dakota people that placed him in a deeply ambiguous position. Gilman sets the controversial but altogether human Sibley against the tapestry of trade, politics, frontier expansion, and intercultural relations in the Upper Mississippi valley, and reminds us that throughout his life Sibley was poised to become a national figure but always chose to remain in the place he loved and had helped to name "Minnesota."

    It wasn't until the mid-19th century that facilities with a wider purpose were founded in Detroit to combat diseases like cholera, tuberculosis, and mental illness. Religious institutions and benevolent societies established homes and treatment centers for the ill and abandoned, while public institutions were created for the very first time. This fascinating pictorial history of health care in the Detroit area features over 200 photographs and postcards of early hospitals, sanitariums, and orphanages, and the kindhearted people who staffed them. From St. Mary's, founded in 1845 and later known as Detroit Memorial Hospital, to Henry Ford Hospital, founded in 1915, this book documents the variety of institutions that sought to relieve or cure medical conditions. Most of these historic facilities no longer exist, and are known only by the photographs that preserve them. The images provide a rare glimpse of what health care was like at the turn of the century.

    As a multilingual nation, there is a lot to discover from language planning and social varieties as well as how these are presented in the nation's literature.

    Each park had its own personality, its own alluring smells and sounds. At Euclid Beach it was the stately sycamores and the unforgettable odor of the lake and of damp earth beneath the pier. At Puritas Springs, the odor of warm oil on the chain of the Cyclone coaster. The chatter of Monkey Island at Luna Park, the sharp reports of the Shooting Gallery at Geauga Lake.David and Diane Francis, authors of several books on amusement park history, including "Cedar Point: The Queen of American Watering Places," draw on their own extensive archive and on the memories of fellow park buffs to create a vivid, nostalgic portrait of days gone by.

    Traveling north on the river, the bend gives the illusion of a point of land projecting out into the water, hence the early Colonial name Point-No-Point. In 1800, Joseph Kirkbride envisioned a community at the mouth of Frankford Creek and purchased a large farm for his plan. He laid out lots and roads and operated a ferry across the creek, and with the passing of time, the village reached southward toward Philadelphia. Originally called Kirkbridesburg, the people dropped the "Kirk" and Bridesburg was born.

    While New Haven's story is typical of many thriving cities during the American Industrial Revolution--fascinating to preservationists, urban and landscape historians, architects, industrial archaeologists, and community historians--it is atypical as well. Most American industrial cities relied on the manufacture of a single product, but New Haven diversified, fabricating over one hundred assorted manufactured goods at the turn of the twentieth century. In a remarkable feat of historical continuity, Carriages and Clocks, Corsets and Locks explores the origins, preservation, reclamation, and reuse of the extant industrial sites and firmly iterates a unique sense of place for modern citizens of this post-industrial city. Five scholarly narrative essays interpret specific sites, and detailed historical profiles are included for sixteen selected industrial sites located on or near New Haven's harbor, including the Quinnipiac Brewery and the Candee Rubber Company. More than one hundred historically significant illustrations depict historical and modern views of sites, the products manufactured there, and New Haven's working people. Maps and tables illustrate the progress of the city's urban development from the seventeenth through the mid-twentieth centuries. Based on primary source material including land and fire department records, city directories, newspaper articles, maps, and personal accounts, this book is the culmination of the Industrial Heritage Project of the New Haven Preservation Trust's mission to evaluate and document the city's historic industrial sites and to produce educational and advocacy programs for preservation efforts.

    Serving more than one hundred thousand Jewish residents at its height, Northeast Philadelphia consisted of ten distinctive neighborhoods, including Feltonville, Oxford Circle, Tacony, and Mayfair. During the twentieth century, thousands of Jewish families were attracted to the area by the houses built along Roosevelt Boulevard for soldiers returning home from World War II. Welsh Road catered to younger families, and wealthier families resided along Bustleton Avenue and Fox Chase and Verree Roads. Today, the influx of strictly orthodox Jewish residents has given rise to a third generation of Jewish life in Northeast Philadelphia.

    Founded in 1869, this garden cemetery served as an escape and a model for Cleveland parks and suburbs, such as University Circle, Little Italy, East Cleveland, and Cleveland Heights. Lake View is home to cultural, economic, and political leaders and thousands of others from all classes, races, and religions. This rich diversity is manifested in the natural and man-made landscape, which features the President James Garfield Monument, the Wade Chapel, and the John D. Rockefeller obelisk.

    Located some thirty miles north of New York City, this magnificent Tudor-style building was surrounded by dairy barns and greenhouses, all built by Walter Law, "the laird of Briarcliff Manor." Here, Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt were hosted, as were Tallulah Bankhead, Johnny Weissmuller, Jimmy Walker, Babe Ruth, and other luminaries. The hotel business declined in the 1930s, here and at other nearby resorts, but Briarcliff Lodge continued in use as the home of the Edgewood Park School from 1936 to 1954 and as the King's College from 1955 to 1994.