The Top 20 Best-Selling Titles… #17

17. More True Tales of Old-Time Kansas by David Dary

A continuation of his previous book, True Tales of Old-Time Kansas, David Dary delivers more stories, tales, and legends of Kansas’s history. Published in 1987, More True Tales of Old-Time Kansas tells entertaining stories from Kansas’s past, from adventures to natural disasters to tales of outlaws and legends. Dary is able to pull together accounts and facts with carefully skilled penmanship that makes history feel like a story.

Spread throughout the stories are illustrations to help propel the reader further into the exciting history of Kansas. More True Tales of Old-Time Kansas brings to life the excitement and adventure of the Old West: the revenge and vengeance of Bloody Bill Anderson and Dutch Henry, the exploits of bank and train robber Bill Doolen, and mayhem in the state’s most violent town. Colorful hermits and trappers, traders and town builders join historical characters such as William Becknell, father of the Santa Fe Trail—whose expedition turned a 2,000 percent profit—and Lizzie Johnson Williams, the first woman to follow the Western Trail.

“Dary is a popularizer, a skilled writer who takes historic facts and legends and weaves them together for the interested general reader. His easy, journalistic style, and determination to tell a good story introduce history to an audience that may not have discovered the fascinating heritage of our remarkable state.—Wichita Eagle-Beacon

20. The Philippine War, 1899-1902 by Brian McAllister Linn

19. The Sable Arm by Dudley Cornish

18. Haunted Kansas: Ghost Stories and Other Eerie Tales by Lisa Hefner Heitz

The Top 20 Best-Selling Titles… #18

#18. Haunted Kansas: Ghost Stories and Other Eerie Tales by Lisa Hefner Heitz

Published in 1997, Heitz’s spine-tingling collection of stories raps and taps and moans and groans through a wealth of descriptions of infamous Kansas phantoms, as well as disconcerting personal experiences related by former skeptics. Haunted Kansas pulls together a various collection of accounts chronicling Kansas folklore and eerie stories. Kansas’s deep history paves way for some complicated and unsettling accounts. Heitz tells the haunting stories of Kansas as she travels from location to location, uncovering the secrets that Kansas has had buried.

Set in various locations across the Sunflower State, the book aims to relay the haunting stories through Kansas’s history, while also giving a bit of knowledge of each location. Most locations are historical sites and important geological markers, adding more to the eerie quality these tales hold. From the haunted Teddy Bear in Fort Riley to the plethora of spirits walking alongside tombstones in the cemetery to the haunted town of Atchison, Heitz covers a lot of ground in telling the haunted tales of Kansas.

“Prior to the publication of the book, I spent a year researching Kansas legend and lore, traveling around the state to many communities, small and large, visiting museums and libraries for materials on local ghost stories, and interviewing residents,” Heitz explains. “During my travels throughout the state, I not only collected hundreds of stories, but I learned that my home state of Kansas is an endlessly varied, beautiful, and fascinating place. Oh, and spooky—very spooky!”

“My favorite part of writing the book,” Heitz explains, “was piecing together what I like to think of as an interwoven tapestry or quilt of folklore and legend. Each story was compelling and colorful on its own, but woven together into a book, the stories overlay a map of the state with a blanket of intersecting local legends and oral histories.”

Heitz says methods of researching the paranormal have developed in the twenty-five years since working on Haunted Kansas.

“Research in this field, as in all fields, has been radically changed by the internet in the years since the publication of my book,” Heitz says. “My method of research in the early and mid-1990s seems practically antiquated now; very ‘boots-on-the-ground’ and reliant on physical travel, hours spent in libraries and museums, and face-to-face interviews.”

Heitz continues, “I recently have been working on updating some of my research from that time and now, of course, much of the work can be done sitting in front of a computer. It is certainly easier and less time-consuming, and the resources online seem endless and are often invaluable. But there are fewer in-person encounters and interactions, and less physical travel to locations is required, which seems like something of a loss to me. My time spent researching around Kansas allowed me to meet many fascinating people and explore numerous locales, giving me a deep appreciation of Kansans and all things Kansas.”

Researching and writing a book about haunted places isn’t for the weak. Heitz says stories from the book still haunt her.

“From the stories collected in the book, and the numerous additional stories still haunting my files, my favorite tale is undeniably the one I grew up with, in my hometown of Topeka: the legend of the Albino Woman,” Heitz says. “This unusually complex, intergenerational, local legend—the ever-changing, always-morphing tale of a terrifying white-haired, white-robed wraith with glowing red eyes—has haunted the folkloric landscape of Topeka for seventy-five years or more. This shape-shifting figure has stepped out of stories and frightened multiple generations of Topekans, including my young self. And today, sometimes in the guise of one of her most recent iterations—the zombie cannibal known as the Blue Albino Woman—she is still scaring the bejeebers out of avid storytellers and their rapt listeners or readers. And that’s why I love her!”

Heitz continues, “The last paragraph of my story of the Albino Woman is still true more than twenty years later: ‘The Albino Woman legend is quite a bit like the infamous Lady herself: flying through the generations; constantly being re-created out of each individual teller and listener’s fears, sense of evil, and sense of mischief; and wandering the cultural landscape of Topeka as well as the physical landscape of cemetery, creek, woods, roads, and river that she calls home.’”

20. The Philippine War, 1899-1902 by Brian McAllister Linn

19. The Sable Arm by Dudley Cornish

The Top 20 Best-Selling Titles… #19

19. The Sable Arm by Dudley Cornish

Published in 1978 by Dudley Cornish, The Sable Arm dives into the history of Black Union soldiers fighting for freedom and liberty during the Civil War. Cornish traces the history of Black men as Union soldiers and how that affected both the fate of Black citizens and their role in the military today and the white Union soldiers who fought alongside them at that time. Told in chapters beginning with an appropriate quotation relating to the subject matter, The Sable Arm takes the reader through the challenges and results of allowing Black soldiers into the Union Army.

A bona fide classic, The Sable Arm was the first work to fully chronicle the remarkable story of the nearly 180,000 Black troops who served in the Union Army. Cornish details the hardships and conditions that these soldiers had to face to pave the way for Black troops today. Cornish traces similarities and outcomes in today’s military system that began with the admittance of these troops.

“One of the one hundred best books ever written on the Civil War.” —Civil War Times Illustrated

“The most valuable book ever written on the topic.” — Herman Hattaway, coauthor of How the North Won


20. The Philippine War, 1899-1902 by Brian McAllister Linn


The Top 20 Best-Selling Titles… #20

UPK is thrilled to be celebrating our seventy-fifth anniversary, and we’d like to invite our supporters to celebrate along with us. Since our founding in 1946, we’ve published nearly 1,000 books. To celebrate seventy-five years of publishing excellence, we’re counting down our Top 20 best-selling titles. Stay tuned as we make our way to our top seller…

20. The Philippine War, 1899-1902 by Brian McAllister Linn

Brian McAllister Linn provides a definitive treatment of military operations in the Philippines. From the pitched battles of the early war to the final campaigns against guerrillas, Linn traces the entire course of the conflict. More than an overview of Filipino resistance and US pacification, this is a detailed study of the fighting in the “boondocks.”

In addition to presenting a detailed military history of the war, Linn challenges previous interpretations. Rather than being a clash of armies or societies, the war was a series of regional struggles that differed greatly from island to island. By shifting away from the narrow focus on one or two provinces to encompass the entire archipelago, Linn offers a more thorough understanding of the entire war.

Winner: Society for Military History Distinguished Book Award

“A thoughtful, deeply researched, and well-written work about a war that teaches much about the nature of revolutionary warfare—even today.” —Foreign Affairs

“The definitive study of this often-misunderstood war.” —Parameters

When Democrats and Republicans United to Repair the Earth

David Sarasohn, co-author of The Green Years, 1964-1976: When Democrats and Republicans United to Repair the Earth

Republican Howard Baker of Tennessee was the majority and minority leader of the US Senate, White House chief of staff, and a presidential contender. But what he really hoped to be remembered for, as he said at the end of his career, was his work on the Clean Air Act—not trying to destroy it, but establishing it.

Half a century ago, over the course of a dozen years, the United States adopted the environmental laws and procedures that we still follow today: more than 300 efforts, including the Clean Air Acts, the Clean Water Acts, the Endangered Species Act, the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), and dozens of national parks, national forests, wilderness areas, and protected seashores were implemented. These advances, unimaginable in today’s poisonous partisan gridlock, were propelled by Democrats and Republicans working together and typically drew overwhelming support.

The story of that time, covered in The Green Years, 1964–1976: When Democrats and Republicans United to Repair the Earth, carries some surprising revelations and some surprising people. Republicans were key in these efforts to a striking degree, reminding us that the 1960s and 1970s Republicans were as close to the outdoor activism of Teddy Roosevelt as to the drill-everywhere attitude of Donald Trump. Baker, a national Republican leader, spent a decade working closely on environmental legislation with Democratic presidential hopeful Edmund Muskie. Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, Pennsylvania Republican representative John Saylor was one of the most active and determined conservation advocates in the House.

Democratic legacies from the Green Years look different as well. Washington senator Henry Jackson and Idaho senator Frank Church are etched in history on their opposing sides of the Vietnam war: the high-profile hawk and the resolute dove. But throughout this period, the two were close allies on the Senate Interior Committee, repeatedly producing major legislation on pollution and preservation and protecting massive stretches of the country from development; enacting rules that still govern how we deal with the land, water, and air around us.

The historical reputations of the era’s looming high-profile presidents, Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon, have not exactly been shaped by environmental issues. Yet both of their administrations left towering legacies on land and water, achievements unthought of before and unimaginable since.

Nobody remembers Lyndon Johnson for environmental achievements. Yet the original “Great Society” speech at the University of Michigan in 1964 had an entire section on the subject, and Interior Secretary Stewart Udall led the fight for a series of achievements, beginning with the long-sought Wilderness Act of 1964. At the end of his administration, battered and discredited by Vietnam and racial violence, Johnson was still urging Congress and signing measures to create and expand national parks and forests. When the Bureau of the Budget tried to resist spending for protecting more territory, Johnson’s aide Joseph Califano commented, “Budget’s trouble is that it consistently underestimates how much this man loves the land.”

The legislative achievements during the Nixon administration, under a president famous for walking the beach in wingtips, were even greater and include the Clean Water Act, the Clean Air Act, the Endangered Species Act, and the creation of the EPA and environmental impact reports. Some were administration initiatives, some were enacted over administration resistance, but the achievements were driven by figures whose role is now forgotten. Nixon’s domestic counselor John Ehrlichman, today known only as a convicted Watergate conspirator, had been a land use lawyer in Seattle, and his environmental leanings colored White House policy. The Sierra Club’s David Brower later concluded that the movement would have done better to court Nixon rather than battle him. Long after being driven from office, Nixon told George H. W. Bush’s EPA director, “I founded EPA. I’m an environmentalist, too.”

Beyond the simple list of what was passed is how it was all passed. Legislation was hard-fought, extensively debated, and often took several Congresses to enact. But typically, the final measures passed both houses overwhelmingly and were supported by all parties: by segregationist Southern Democrats, hardline Midwestern conservatives, and urban liberals. The Endangered Species Act of 1973, which could not possibly get through Congress today, passed the Senate unanimously and the House 354-4.

Such harmony is hard to envision today, of course, because of the bitter attitudes pervading Washington. But there has also been a change in the makeup of Congress, which, in turn, results in both changed environmental policies and environmental landscapes. Everyone knows Lyndon Johnson’s accurate prediction that the civil rights struggle would cost the Democrats the South for decades, but environmental legislation also blasted the party in the inland West. The disappearance of those Democrats and the ones from the South, along with Republicans from the Northeast, widened the gap between the parties and removed figures vital to bipartisan environmental efforts.

But the advances of the Green Years were not just a matter of Congress, or of executive orders from the White House. The story of the Wilderness Act didn’t begin in the 88th Congress, or even in the previous sessions when it fell short. It goes back to Abraham Lincoln setting aside the Yosemite Valley, and to Benjamin Harrison, Grover Cleveland, and Theodore Roosevelt beginning the protection of vast stretches of undeveloped land, and to decades of lobbying and organizing work by the Wilderness Society. The drive to protect animals and plants didn’t start with the Endangered Species Act, but goes back to colonial Massachusetts. The Green Years, 1964–1976 traces those roots. The book measures that mandating community input, thought to be a curb on protection, actually stimulated citizen activism. Congress ultimately, and eventually, reflects its constituencies. The rising pressures of global warming and mounting weather disasters and extinction events could yet make themselves felt in Congress. In politics, as on the calendar, a green season can come again.

David Sarasohn is a retired editor and columnist at the Oregonian and the author of The Party of Reform: Democrats in the Progressive Era

Farina King on Indigenous People’s Day, 2021

Dr. Farina King, author of The Earth Memory Compass

This Indigenous People’s Day, I think of Indigenous childhoods through generations, honoring the children who survived and those who we must always remember. Remembering is an action.

Shí éí Bilagáanaa nishłí̹ dóó Kinyaa’áanii báshíshchíín. Bilagáanaa dashicheii dóó Tsinaajinii dashinálí. I just introduced myself by my clans, acknowledging my ancestors and kin as a woman of white English-American settler descent born for the Towering House and Black-Streaked Woods People of the Diné. I am a citizen of the Navajo Nation and the daughter of a boarding school survivor. I grew up with the stories of Indian boarding schools from my father and paternal relatives. Their stories have drawn me to understand Diné and diverse Indigenous experiences in boarding schools over generations.

I exist, because my father survived boarding school, and his mother before him survived boarding school, and her father before her survived boarding school, and his parents before him survived the Long Walk—the forced removal and concentration of Diné at Hwééłdi, “Land of the Suffering.” Because of my ancestors, my children and I have the opportunity to thrive as Diné. These thoughts really hit me recently, as I ponder how the US government is finally launching a Federal Indian Boarding School Truth Initiative through the leadership of Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland (Laguna Pueblo).

In my first book, The Earth Memory Compass (University Press of Kansas 2018), I share the story of how my father ran away from the Ramah Indian Boarding School. I woke up recently crying, rethinking my father’s story of running away because it dawned on me that my father almost did not survive boarding school. He almost froze to death when he ran away with another boy in the winter. I asked him if I could share this story again, and he consented to it. He told me how bullies at the school led him to run away, and he asked friends if they wanted to run away with him. Another boy decided to come with him because he also wanted to go home. On their way they got caught in a canyon during a snow drift that almost killed them. But they were fortunately found by a rancher who saved their lives. I thought of all the stories of boarding school runaways and how some children died that same way that my father almost did—freezing to death in their attempt to return home. When I asked him why he ran away, he told me that he “did not run away from the education.”

Think of all the daughters, sons, brothers, and sisters who are family and never returned home or passed away soon after getting home. Think of their posterity that could have been. My father should have never had to face such struggles and hardships. This history lives on in him, me, and my children. Diné and many Native American and Indigenous peoples continue to fight every day for basic human rights such as access to clean water, shelter, food, healthcare, and schooling for and by their own people. The Navajo Nation is still fighting to reclaim Diné education.

My father may have survived the boarding school, but he suffered many injuries—and not just physical ones. He will never say these things because he does not live his life as a victim. He is an active agent who has persevered much but has also lived in joy and peace. Yet my father never taught me and my siblings Diné bizaad, so I fear that the seed of the Navajo language that he has carried may not survive. There is much that we still must do to pursue healing. And it is important to recognize that healing is not a checkbox to be marked off. Healing is a cyclical, ongoing journey through generations and time.

Indigenous kinship, community networks, and protocols are essential to understanding Indian boarding schools and to the ongoing journeys of healing and reconciliation. There are many different tribal nations and Indigenous communities, including some that are intertribal in urban settings. Every specific context and Indigenous community and kinship networks must be connected hand-in-hand with these initiatives to address the effects of Indian boarding schools. The National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition and so many others have been paving the way for this truth, healing, and reconciliation. My friends Marsha Small and Preston McBride have been working on finding and accounting for the lost boarding schoolchildren, including those in unmarked mass graves, who did not survive Indian boarding schools. We are collaborating on providing guides to Indigenous protocols based on our experiences and work.

We need to support one another in these efforts to acknowledge and learn of the truths, perspectives, and experiences of Indian boarding schools; to stop the boarding school legacy of genocidal practices and approaches that seek to eradicate Indigeneity; and to embrace and support Indigenous sovereignties, ways of knowing, and education. Value Indigenous stories, histories, and lives. Actions reveal these values. We can return the lost boarding schoolchildren home by finding them, learning about them, and supporting and connecting with their families and Indigenous communities that include boarding school survivors.

My forthcoming book that I am coauthoring with Mike Taylor and James Swensen is tentatively called Returning Home because of such interconnections of healing and reconciling Indian boarding school pasts with Indigenous communities today and their futures. Please continue the languages that the children were punished for speaking; be sure the sick, hungry, and homeless of Indigenous communities can receive care and support; teach all about Indigenous histories from Indigenous perspectives and voices; and listen to Indigenous communities, following their directions and guidance toward healing. These are only some beginning steps, but we all need to begin somewhere step by step. Boarding school history matters because Native American families have paid far too great a price to educate their children, and they continue to pay that price to this day.

Dr. Farina King is assistant professor of history and affiliate of the Cherokee and Indigenous Studies Department at Northeastern State University, Tahlequah, Oklahoma.

Why the Confederacy Lost—and Why We Should Care Today (part 1)

Christian B. Keller, editor of Southern Strategies: Why the Confederacy Failed

In this era, when things Confederate have fallen out of vogue with both the general public and academia, and rebel monuments seemingly topple to the ground everywhere, it may appear a bit untimely to consider why the history of the short-lived Confederacy matters for modern senior leaders. But precisely because it was such a fleeting experiment—confronted with inherent political contradictions, overwhelming survival challenges, and a lethal adversary bent on its destruction—that its value as a basis for thinking about modern strategic problems is especially salient. People may recoil in repugnance today at the thought of pondering the slave-holding republic, but we need to move past any presentist, politically motivated agendas and take a clear-eyed, historically contextual look at why the Confederacy failed and what we can learn from it. In so doing, we may be surprised what we can glean to improve our thinking about current issues.

In my recent book, Southern Strategies: Why the Confederacy Failed, I and my contributors, all faculty, former faculty, or former students at the U.S. Army War College in Carlisle, PA, wrestle with what I call the “big questions” of rebel defeat that dwell at the strategic (i.e., the “war-winning and war-losing”) level of war. We dip down into operational and even tactical history as necessary, especially when key campaigns, such as Antietam or Gettysburg, represented significant contingency points in the course of the Civil War. We root our analyses in classical and modern strategic theory, incorporating Carl von Clausewitz’s timeless maxims, the ends-ways-means-risk paradigm, and the DIME construct (Diplomatic, Informational, Military, and Economic instruments of national power) as interpretative lenses to better evaluate our chosen topics. They range from the criticality of competent military leaders, to macroeconomic and diplomatic reasons for Southern failure, to abysmal lapses in intelligence. And we give due credence to the better decision-making and more adroit application of power of the secessionist South’s Federal opponents.

Let’s be perfectly clear: the subject of why the Confederacy lost the war is well-plowed intellectual ground. All the great Civil War historians of our time, from Bruce Catton onward, have thought hard and written much about it. As I state in the introduction of our book, we simply want to join the debate and possibly reframe it a bit, not arrive at “final” answers, which of course is almost impossible to do. If we’ve done our job well, our readers ought to be well-equipped to think critically and creatively about their own big problems and use the Confederacy’s downfall as a useful, if inexact, case study.

The first point we make is that leaders matter a lot, both for the chances of historical rebel independence and the achievement of national, corporate, or civic objectives today. Contrary to popular belief, the Confederacy possessed a very limited bench of gifted strategic-level military leaders and fewer good operational ones than generally perceived. Essentially, the rebellion started out with Robert E. Lee, Albert Sydney Johnston, and Braxton Bragg as potential strategically minded generals, and ended up with only one of them meeting expectations: Lee.

Johnston fell early at Shiloh and may or may not have matured to the high levels of command foretold for him had he lived, whereas Bragg could think strategically but was a weak executor. There were no other generals who could rise to the highest level of war, but Stonewall Jackson, James Longstreet, Joseph E. Johnston, and possibly P. G. T. Beauregard and Kirby Smith were all able operational leaders who could think, if not execute, strategically. Various reasons explain why this was so for each of these individuals, but suffice it to say for our purposes here that they, too, were limited in number and, once incapacitated or killed, were of no further use to their respective armies. This reality was particularly damaging to the efficacy of the Army of Northern Virginia, which boasted the command team of Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, and J. E. B. Stuart from spring 1862 to spring 1863. Their Federal adversary was very hard pressed to match the almost-unbeatable combination of leadership qualities offered by these men, who came close to attaining victory for the South in the Eastern Theater. I argue in my essay that the Lee-Jackson partnership, in particular, was very valuable and nigh irreplaceable for the Confederacy, and that Stonewall’s death after Chancellorsville permanently damaged that potentially war-winning team.

The Union also had a limited bench of strategic-level generals, namely McClellan, Rosecrans, Grant, Sherman, and Thomas, but none of them died (although some were sacked), and the North enjoyed a far greater selection of competent operational leaders who could implement their chiefs’ intent, and, occasionally, both think and execute at the strategic level. Men like Meade, Sheridan, McPherson, Porter, and Schofield helped Grant and Sherman win, whereas Leonidas Polk, William Hardee, Richard Ewell, and A. P. Hill proved hard for Bragg and Lee to manage and couldn’t think beyond their own corps’ purviews.

Most modern organizations today, whether they be the U.S. Army, the Internal Revenue Service, the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation, the Hershey Corporation, or the town council of Carlisle, possess limited means in the form of good extant and potential senior leaders. Identifying them early, grooming them for higher-level responsibility, and finding ways to avoid their attrition are critical ways to ensure the future of any organization. Competent leaders—especially at the strategic level—are especially scarce, and, when expended, are not easily replaced. We must learn to take care of them, educate and mentor them properly, expose them to the necessary professional experiences, and do what it takes to elevate them to the billets they deserve to occupy.

In the forthcoming Part 2 of this essay, we will examine the diplo-economic reasons for Confederate defeat and their modern applications.

Dr. Christian B. Keller is professor of history and director of the military history program at the U.S. Army War College in Carlisle, PA. He is the author, co-author, or editor of six books on the U.S. Civil War, most recently, Southern Strategies: Why the Confederacy Failed (University Press of Kansas, 2021).

Texas, Oklahoma, and the Long Saga of Athletic Conference Realignment

by Brian M. Ingrassia, author of The Rise of Gridiron University: Higher Education’s Uneasy Alliance with Big-Time Football

In July 2021, the Universities of Texas and Oklahoma announced they would leave the Big 12 Conference by 2025 and join the Southeastern Conference (SEC). In doing so, they will push that college-sports juggernaut up to sixteen members, casting aside virtually all doubt that the SEC is the biggest football conference in the land. Certainly, the SEC plays the most profitable brand of the collegiate gridiron game, with instant name recognition and huge venues. Four SEC stadiums currently top 100,000 seats each, while another nine are bigger than every single Major League Baseball stadium. Texas and Oklahoma, with stadiums topping 100,000 and 80,000 seats, respectively, will fit right in. The SEC, it seems, is poised for dominance.

This is clearly a momentous time in college sports, but what does it all mean? Why, in short, do athletic conferences realign?

The athletic conference is an old institution, dating to the turn-of-the-century Progressive Era, and it has shifted over time. Arguably, the first conference was the Intercollegiate Conference of Faculty Representatives, later known as the Big Nine or Big Ten. This is the conference that, as of 2021, has fourteen members and a logo that reads as “B1G”—which, of course, looks like it could easily be “Big 16” or some other indeterminate (yet large and impressive) number.

The recent Texas-Oklahoma-SEC realignment appears to throw American college athletics into turmoil. Historian Andrew McGregor astutely points out that the SEC now seems poised to challenge the power of the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) in an era when “the amateur model is no longer the status quo.”[2] After all, the US Supreme Court recently ruled that college athletes can receive greater compensation for athletic services.[3] Now, more than ever, is a time suited for organizations primed to make money off of college sports, rather than for an organization whose stated raison d’être is to ensure that college athletes remain amateurs

The NCAA has been around since football’s crisis era of 1905–1906, and ever since World War II it has played an increasingly large role in regulating collegiate sport. In the 1950s, the NCAA even created the term student-athlete as a way of dodging worker-compensation laws.[4] Now, big-time athletic programs are poised to take advantage of the erosion of the NCAA hegemony.

Although the present is a unique moment in the history of college sports, it is not without precedent. Historically, athletic conferences have realigned at times when new media or transportation technologies—and their implications for the profitability of college athletics—intersect with changing ideas about higher education. At such moments of disruption, some colleges and universities start to perceive themselves differently from other institutions, or at least come to believe they can find a better way of regulating and administering sport.

When conferences, including the Big Ten and Missouri Valley, first formed at the turn of the twentieth century, universities were forming rules regarding player eligibility and athletic commercialization. How could a college enrolling only four-year liberal arts students compete against a school admitting a wider range of pupils, including those in technical programs? How could a college prevent its football team from traveling so far that players would miss weeks of classes? Agreeing to schedule games only against like-minded institutions—say, major state universities within a 350-mile radius—was one way to handle this dilemma.

Over time, more concerns arose. By the 1930s, some small, private institutions started seeing themselves as liberal arts colleges. They were not in the business of big lecture courses or graduate education, and they also were not in the business of funding lavish athletic spectacles for tens of thousands of spectators or millions of radio listeners. For such schools, it no longer made sense to play sports against big universities, teachers colleges, or junior colleges.

During the Great Depression, declining incomes made it harder for smaller colleges to survive, while government programs funded expansion of public junior colleges and teachers colleges. Small, private colleges wanted sport, but only as an educational activity for students. As a result, conferences fragmented. In Illinois, for example, a conference with over twenty members split when ten liberal arts colleges decided to form their own circuit. In Iowa, a similar realignment ensued when small colleges sought to distance themselves from bigger, state-funded institutions.

Seen in this light, what has prompted the most recent wave of realignment, especially the Texas-Oklahoma exodus? The reasons are more complex than can be realized in the moment, but it certainly has something to do with the massive amounts of money generated by electronic media.

In the early 1980s, at a time when the NCAA only allowed one televised football game per week, the Universities of Georgia and Oklahoma sued the NCAA. The Supreme Court ruled in NCAA v. Board of Regents of the University of Oklahoma (1984) that the NCAA had violated antitrust law.[5] The limit on televised games was now gone. It should come as no surprise that around the same time, coaches’ salaries started going through the roof. Although student-athletes were still bound by NCAA regulations, nothing stopped coaches from becoming free agents.

By the early twenty-first century, conferences created their own media empires. The Big Ten Network, for instance, debuted in 2006, and the University of Texas Longhorn Network started five years later. Any conference that could gobble up the most successful and storied programs—or at least those in the biggest media markets—could make a mint. It was an athletic director’s dream come true, and clear evidence that the media tail was wagging the athletic-conference dog.

The so-called power conferences—namely, the SEC, Big Ten, Big 12, Pac-12, and ACC—are made up primarily of big universities that have, historically, seen public outreach as part of their mission. For them, sport is not merely an educational activity, the way it might be for a liberal arts college. I argue in The Rise of Gridiron University: Higher Education’s Uneasy Alliance with Big-Time Football that in the early 1900s some universities so valued intercollegiate athletics that they created athletic departments, led by professional athletic directors and coaches, to administer sports.[6] Subsequently, many larger universities did not retreat from athletic commercialism, but actually embraced it. Arguably, what we now see in 2021 is universities with big-time athletic departments hoping to profit by joining new conferences to form ever-larger sporting economies of scale. Conferences, meanwhile, are happy to oblige.

Where will it stop? No one can predict the future with certainty, but it seems as if the era of athletic-conference octopuses—with tentacles reaching out to gobble up fan bases and media markets all around the nation—has not yet come to a close. Perhaps someday the SEC will no longer be focused on the Southeast, or the Big Ten will reach a point when it can be no bigger. In the meantime, no doubt, plenty of games will be watched on television and streaming services.

Brian M. Ingrassia is Associate Professor of History at West Texas A&M University in Canyon, Texas.








The Day That Shook America – Introduction

J. Samuel Walker’s The Day That Shook America: A Concise History of 9/11, offers a long perspective and draws on recently opened records to provide an in-depth analysis of the approaches taken by the Clinton and Bush administrations toward terrorism in general and Al-Qaeda in particular. The book is a passion project for Sam and we are honored to offer the Introduction below.


When Charles Falkenberg, his wife Leslie Whittington, and their daughters Zoe, age eight, and Dana, age three, boarded United Airlines Flight 77 on the morning of September 11, 2001, they were embarking on what promised to be a once-in-a-lifetime family adventure. Their flight from Dulles International Airport, which served Washington, DC, to Los Angeles was the first leg of a trip to Australia, where Whittington had been awarded a two-month fellowship at the Australian National University in Canberra. She was a professor and associate dean at Georgetown University in Washington and had played a key role in building the school’s public policy program. She was an economist whose research interests centered on the impact of tax policies on families. Leslie was a “fun person” with an easy laugh who was exceptionally warm and outgoing. She was a highly regarded teacher who, a former student recalled, “could find humor in economics—which can be rare.”

Charlie Falkenberg was a software engineer who designed programs for analyzing scientific data, especially on environmental issues. One of his projects was collaborating on a study of the long-term effects of the massive Exxon Valdez oil spill that occurred in Alaska in 1989. While in Alaska, he had developed a taste for sockeye salmon, which he enjoyed cooking for friends and neighbors at the family home in University Park, Maryland. Charlie was as outgoing as his wife and was well-known as an organizer of community events, including work parties that periodically cleaned up the creek that ran through the town.

Charlie and Leslie were devoted parents. Zoe’s third-grade teacher, Michele Rowland, remembered her as a “delightful child.” She was an excellent student who loved ballet and participating in school plays. She was highly competitive in the sense that she always wanted to do well. On one occasion, she fell from her scooter and broke her elbow. She had an important standardized test coming up, and as she was being wheeled into surgery, she yelled at her mother, “What am I going to do about taking [the test]?” Dana was a curly haired charmer who customarily wore a smile that filled her face. She liked to dress up in outfits that ranged from a tutu to a feather boa with large sunglasses. She especially enjoyed riding on her father’s shoulders to the nearby elementary school to meet Zoe at the end of the day. Charlie and Leslie stood out among parents as strong supporters of the school. They were active in the PTA, and Leslie often provided crayons, pencils, and other supplies for all the children in Zoe’s class. The entire family was eagerly looking forward to exploring Australia, and the girls were excited about the prospect of seeing kangaroos and koala bears.

Also boarding Flight 77 on the morning of September 11 were five Saudi nationals who were embarking on an adventure of their own that was emphatically sinister. They were operatives of the terrorist network called Al-Qaeda, led by an exiled Saudi living in Afghanistan, Osama bin Laden. They intended to hijack the plane and smash it into the Pentagon building, just outside of Washington, as a way of expressing their hatred of the United States. Between 8:51 and 8:54 a.m., about a half hour after the plane took off, the men moved to carry out their plan. Brandishing knives and box cutters, they herded the flight attendants and passengers to the rear of the plane. They seized the cockpit and disabled—or, more likely—murdered the two pilots. One of the terrorists, Hani Hanjour, was a trained pilot, and he took over the controls. He turned the plane around from its westward course and headed east toward Washington. As he neared the Pentagon, he gunned the engines. At 9:38, the plane hit the ground floor of the west side of the building at a speed of about five hundred and thirty miles per hour. The impact of the crash killed everyone on board instantly and one hundred and twenty-five Pentagon workers.

In the wake of the disaster, a close friend of the Whittington-Falkenberg family, Patrice Pascual, lamented: “They were the kind of people who had no prejudices. That’s part of what makes this so horrible, because they spent their last minutes with people controlled by hatred.” Years later, Judy Feder, a colleague of Whittington at Georgetown, reflected on the fears that must have prevailed on Flight 77 and especially for Zoe and Dana Falkenberg. “I think from time to time—and then try not to think—what it must have been like to be on that plane,” she told a reporter. “I think about those intelligent and inquisitive little girls asking questions and how horrifying it must have been.” Recovery workers at the Pentagon never found Dana’s remains in a condition that could be “individually identified.” They recovered remains that were almost certainly those of Zoe, along with pajamas and a Barbie doll.

On the morning of September 11, I was on a research trip and, at least for a time, oblivious to the tragedies that were taking place at the Pentagon and the World Trade Center in New York City. I was driving from Davidson, North Carolina, to Atlanta, Georgia, by way of Aiken, South Carolina. I planned to have lunch in Aiken with friends and talk about the subject of my research, the Three Mile Island nuclear accident. As I drove through lightly populated areas of South Carolina, I found to my annoyance that there was nothing on the radio I liked. I turned it off and cruised in silence toward my destination. When I got bored enough, I decided to try the radio again in hopes of finding something interesting.

As soon as I turned on the radio, I knew from the tone of the announcer’s voice that something dreadful had happened. She was saying that President George W. Bush had been informed and had left the school he was visiting in Florida. Informed of what, I wondered? I soon found out when the station switched to reporters in New York who were describing the attacks on the World Trade Center. Information was sparse at that point, but it seemed clear that planes had deliberately smashed into the twin towers. As I tried to assimilate this story, the station switched to the news of the strike on the Pentagon. Within a short time, I listened with horror to the live account of the sudden collapse of the south tower. Beset with anxiety and incredulity, I tried to call my wife, who worked in downtown Washington, from a pay phone at a gas station (I had no cell phone). But phone lines were jammed and I could not get through.

There I was in the middle of nowhere, worried and helpless, with nothing to do but drive on. When I reached the home of my friends in Aiken, I was able to reach my wife. She had made it home safely, though her eight-mile trip had taken a very long time. She had talked with our children and other members of my family, and she could assure me that everyone was fine.

After lunch, I drove to Atlanta. I spent the evening watching news reports of the sorrowful events of September 11. The following day, I conducted research at the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library and then retreated to my hotel to catch up on the news. The television networks ran streamers that listed the names and hometowns of the victims of the terrorist attacks, and I was unpleasantly jolted to see that the list included a family from my hometown. I live in University Park, Maryland, and although I did not know Charlie Falkenberg, Leslie Whittington, or their girls personally, it was shocking and saddening to see their names. University Park is a small and close-knit community, and the deaths of neighbors who lived just two blocks away added a personal dimension to the melancholy story of 9/11.

At the time and in later years, I have been troubled by a number of questions about the disaster that occurred on “The Day That Shook America” (as the cover of People magazine labeled it). What were the purposes of the attacks? Why did US intelligence agencies and the Defense Department, with annual budgets in the hundreds of billions of dollars, fail to protect the country from a small band of terrorists who managed to hijack four airliners and take the lives of thousands of American citizens? What did responsible government agencies and officials know about Al-Qaeda and why did they not do more to head off the threat it posed? What were US policies toward terrorism, especially under Presidents Bill Clinton and Bush, and why did they fall so far short of defending against a series of attacks? Was the tragedy of 9/11 preventable? And what was the long-term impact of the strike against America on that terrible day? Those are the most important questions that this book tries to answer.

J. Samuel Walker is a professional historian and the author of, among other titles, Three Mile Island: A Nuclear Crisis in Historical Perspective; Prompt and Utter Destruction: Truman and the Use of Atomic Bombs against Japan; Most of 14th Street Is Gone: The Washington, DC Riots of 1968; and The Road to Yucca Mountain: The Development of Radioactive Waste Policy in the United States. He lives in the Washington, DC, area.

In a New York Minute: The Rise of Kathy Hochul, the First Female Governor of New York

by Kaitlin Sidorsky, author of All Roads Lead to Power: The Appointed and Elected Paths to Public Office for US Women

Governor Kathy Hochul was sworn in as the fifty-seventh governor of New York State, following in the footsteps of Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin Roosevelt, and Nelson Rockefeller. In fact, Governor Hochul follows an unbroken line of men: she is the first female governor in New York State’s history, joining thirty other states who have had a woman in the governor’s mansion. California, Florida, and Pennsylvania are among the nineteen states who have never elected a woman as governor, over one hundred years after women were given the right to vote. Like many female politicians, Governor Hochul has an impressive political résumé. Hochul began her political career on the Hamburg Town Board, then rose from the county clerkship of Erie County to become a member of the US House of Representatives, and, most recent, lieutenant governor of New York.

Hochul’s progression to governor following Andrew Cuomo’s resignation is significant because her highly visible position in New York State government provides opportunities for a different governing style and a focus on new issues; she also becomes a more noticeable role model to inspire young girls and women, who may now consider politics a viable career. Governor Hochul has already signaled that she plans on governing differently than her predecessor, particularly by making sure that women feel safe in her administration. In fact, Hochul’s formal ceremony welcoming her as the new governor was full of symbolism accentuating the historic moment of her ascension to the highest office in the state. As the New York Times reported, “In honor of the women’s suffrage movement, Ms. Hochul wore an all-white dress, as did her daughter, Katie, and her daughter-in-law. Judge DiFiore donned robes worn by the first woman to serve as a judge on the state Court of Appeals, Judith Kaye, Ms. Hochul noted. And the governor called on female reporters to ask the first three questions at the news conference.”

Hochul enters the governor’s office under challenging circumstances. A global pandemic rages, polarization runs rampant, and she is the head of a challenging, even combative, state government apparatus. This workplace friction is the antithesis of what we know of female officeholders, many of whom are more cooperative and compassionate than their male counterparts. Currently, all three of the top elected positions of New York State government are held by women (Hochul as governor, Andrea Stewart Cousins as acting lieutenant governor, and Tish James as attorney general), an incredibly rare circumstance in American government. Below I outline what we might expect from female leadership in the executive branch at the state level.

Although research is limited on the effect of gender vis-à-vis governing styles, we do know of a few differences between male and female legislators that may be relevant for female governors and state executives. Female legislators are typically more liberal than their male counterparts and focus more on “female” issues like education, welfare, and health care (Barrett 1995; Burrell 1997; Diamond 1977; Reingold 2000). One study (Heidbreder and Scheurer 2013) had similar conclusions for female governors between 2006 and 2008. In some ways this may be unavoidable for Hochul as she addresses the pandemic and its effects on the education system and welfare programs. The question becomes whether Hochul and her female counterparts respond differently than male governors to similar challenges across the fifty states.

When it comes to how gender may influence governors, we know that female governors are more likely to appoint women than male governors, which is important to understanding how women serve beyond elected office (Riccucci and Saidel 2001; Sidorsky 2019). In my 2019 book with Kansas, All Roads Lead to Power, I demonstrate the incredibly important role state-level appointees play in state government. This understudied population provides a wealth of services to a state, with more than a third of appointees having held some kind of public office prior to their current position. Hochul has already committed to appointing more women to high-profile positions, which may be key to helping her change the culture of New York State government.

One of the most positive effects of Hochul’s presence will be to promote politics as a career path for women. A few studies have been conducted asking whether a woman in political office becomes a role model for young girls and women. In one of the first studies on the role-model effect, David Campbell and Christina Wolbrecht found that visible and viable female candidates for high-level office result in more young girls wanting to be politically active (2006). Research from 2018 also showed that the presence of a woman as governor increases the numbers of women who run for the state legislature (Ladam, Harden, and Windett 2018), although this may only be true for the Democratic Party (Manento and Schenk 2021). In All Roads Lead to Power I find a deep-seated distaste for elected office among female appointees across all twenty states surveyed. The presence of a highly visible and successful woman in elected office may be needed to prove to women that government is a place where they can be successful.

New York State could definitely use more women in public office. Ranked sixteenth in the nation for women’s representation in the state legislature, the state is far from gender parity, with only 34.3 percent of legislators being women (Center for American Women and Politics 2021). Representation is even worse at the local level: women hold 28.6 percent of municipal positions in New York. Governor Hochul’s presence will not automatically fix the gender parity issue in New York, nor will it provide the changes needed in the government’s culture. However, her rise to governor is an important step in the fight for gender parity. Only future research on her tenure as governor can tell us whether her gender identity influenced her leadership style and legacy as the first female governor of New York State.

References and Recommendations for Further Reading

Barrett, Edith J. 1995. “The Policy Priorities of African American Women in State Legislatures.” Legislative Studies Quarterly 20, no. 2 (May): 223–247.

Burrell, Barbara 1997. “The Political Leadership of Women and Public Policymaking.” Policy Studies Journal 25 (4): 565–568.

Campbell, David E., and Christina Wolbrecht. 2006. “See Jane Run: Women Politicians as Role Models for Adolescents.” Journal of Politics 68, no. 2 (May): 233–247.

Diamond, Irene. 1977. Sex Roles in the State House. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Dickes, Lori A., and Elizabeth Crouch. 2015. “Policy Effectiveness of U.S. Governors: The Role of Gender and Changing Institutional Powers.” Women’s Studies International Forum 53 (November–December): 90–98.

Heidbreder, Brianne, and Katherine F. Scheurer. 2013. “Gender and the Gubernatorial Agenda.” State and Local Government Review 45, no. 1 (March): 3–13.

Ladam, Christina, Jeffrey J. Harden, and Jason H. Windett. 2018. “Prominent Role Models: High‐Profile Female Politicians and the Emergence of Women as Candidates for Public Office.” American Journal of Political Science 62, no. 2 (April): 369–381.

Manento, Cory, and Marie Schenk. 2021. “Role Models or Partisan Models? The Effect of Prominent Women Officeholders.” State Politics & Policy Quarterly 21, no. 3 (September): 221–242.

Reingold, Beth. 2000. Representing Women: Sex, Gender, and Legislative Behavior in Arizona and California. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

Riccucci, Norma M., Judith R. Saidel. 2001. “The Demographics of Gubernatorial Appointees:

Toward an Explanation of Variation.” Policy Studies Journal 29 (1): 11–22.

Sidorsky, Kaitlin, 2019. All Roads Lead to Power: The Appointed and Elected Paths to Public Office for US Women. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas.

Kaitlin Sidorsky is assistant professor of politics at Coastal Carolina University, Conway, South Carolina. Her work has appeared in Political Research Quarterly.