Category Archives: Atlanta

August 2, 2008, 2:48 pm

Playing the Race Card

By sheer luck, two things coincided last week: I began reading Kevin Kruse’s wonderful book, White Flight: Atlanta and the Making of Modern Conservatism (Princeton University Press, 2005) and I saw an unusually acerbic exchange between journalists David Brooks and Mark Shields about the McCain campaign’s charge that Barack Obama had “played the race card.” Obama, as we all know, said in a speech that John McCain and his people are trying to whip up fear about his candidacy because he doesn’t look like the presidents featured on our currency (although given the state of our economy, I think that Obama’s first presidential act should be to put a picture of George W. Bush on every denomination.)

Now, as someone who is far more progressive than Obama on many issues, including race I suspect, this nevertheless won him my sympathy, and I raced to my computer to make my first campaign…

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March 16, 2007, 9:37 pm

Well, It’s Deja Vu All Over Again

So here I am in the Atlanta-Hartsfield Airport and — my flight is canceled because of a massive snowstorm in the northeast! Really! It’s too funny. Not.

But here’s an interesting historical note, one that reminds me of something a now-retired senior colleague, Dr. Tory, used to say when he was trying to shoot down a job candidate. “History,” he would say with an evil smile, and a look of profound pity for the rest of us who did not understand what a terrible scholar we wanted to hire, “is change over time. And I just don’t see change (pause) over (pause) time (pause) in this work.”

Well, I am reminded of this because I am having the same experience I had ten years ago. And yet it is not the same. Why? Technology.

OK. So I was at the Carter Library finishing up my work this morning when my phone went off. “This is Orbitz TLC,” said a chirpy little voice. “Your …

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March 16, 2007, 1:00 am

Leaving Atlanta

The last time I was in Atlanta, except perhaps to change planes, was a little more than ten years ago. It was an American Historical Association Annual Meeting and Saturday night, as everyone was making the rounds of the various smokers and publisher’s parties (“I’m not going anywhere that the drinks aren’t free!” my friend Ethel, who now works at Harvard, said to me that night) a rumor arose that there would be three or four inches of snow the next day. Eh, what-evah, we from New England shrugged, as we shoved our way through the Oxford Press reception (chardonnay.)

By the time I was throwing elbows at the Penn smoker (foreign beer and two colors of wine), I was hearing rumours that there would not only be snow in Atanta, there would be snow up North too. A lot. And that anyone who had her wits about her would consider booking an earlier flight. Maybe that night. However, this was …

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