150 Years on Kendall Green: The Blog

Roberto Sanchez is now introducing our next speaker, Kent Olney. His presentation is “Gallaudet Valedictorian Influences Deaf Midwesterners: The Story of Philip Hasenstab.”

Just as Bambach delivered a biographical sketch of a 19th century Deaf clergyman, so Olney will do the same, albeit not in the first person. His subject is the Reverend Philip Hasenstab. Olney received his Master’s in counseling from Gallaudet 22 years ago, and is happy to be back on campus. The Reverend Philip J. Hasenstab and Olney have a few things in common: Hasenstab graduated from Gallaudet exactly a hundred years before Olney, in 1885; they both grew up in the Midwest, with Hasenstab in Indiana and Olney in Michigan; and both men spent many years working in and around Chicago. They are also both ordained clergymen. Hasenstab came to speak at Gallaudet College for its 75th anniversary in 1939, where he delivered the invocation. Olney is now at the 150th celebration of Kendall Green. He will not deliver an invocation, but will instead deliver a biographical sketch of Hasenstab.

I will first provide background on Hasenstab, then talk about his work in Chicago and the Midwest, and then finally talk about his legacy, his message, and why he is still important today.

Hasenstab was born in NYC in 1861. At the age of two, he and his family moved to Indiana, and around the same time he lost his hearing due to an unknown illness. When he was 8, he entered the Indiana School for the Deaf, where he remained until 1879, when he entered the National Deaf-Mute College. At college, he was captain and quarterback of Gallaudet’s first football team. He weighed less than 140 pounds– imagine playing football when you only weigh that much, especially with the rules of football back then! After graduating from college, he obtained a job at the Illinois School for the Deaf in Jacksonville as the boy’s dormitory supervisor. After one year, he then became a teacher, and continued teaching for the next seven years. While he was teaching, he met his wife, Georgia Ellliott, who was a pupil at the Illinois School.

Illinois’ superintendent Gillette heard that a parish in Chicago needed a preacher, and they preferred a graduate of a residential school. Gillette decided to answer the “job ad,” and went to deliver a sermon. People at that church were satisfied, and wanted him to return on a monthly basis. But his superintendent duties and other responsibilities precluded his doing this. Instead, he asked Hasenstab if he would be interested; Hasenstab certainly was, and so he took the train to Chicago, a 250-mile trip one way at a time when transportation was much slower than today, delivered the Sunday sermon, then quickly caught the train and headed back downstate in order to be at work on time for Monday’s classes. Hasenstab did this monthly for four years, then finally resigned as a teacher to become a pastor full time. He relocated to Chicago, where he founded the Chicago Mission for the Deaf. He remained in Chicago and worked there for over fifty years, from 1890 until 1941. He was ordained the first Deaf Methodist minister in 1894.

The average number of parishioners in his church was around 100, and this waxed and waned depending upon events. In 1927 church attendance reached an all-time high of 450 in attendance, of whom 400 were deaf. His work was not just limited to sermons: he conducted bible studies sessions, home visits to parish members, prayer times, and numerous other obligations. The Chicago Club for the Deaf opened near his church, so this area was a center of sorts for the Deaf of Chicago.

Although Hasenstab assumed numerous responsibilities, he also made sure he had capable assistants to delegate to when needed. He did not work alone, and there were four people in particular who were important in his professional life: his wife, Georgia Elliott Hasenstab, Henry Rutherford, Vina Smith, and Laura Sheridan.

Georgia Elliott was one of the first females admitted to Gallaudet in 1887– she didn’t graduate, but she did attend until the end of her sophomore year, when the Missouri School for the Deaf offered her a teaching position. She was a popular teacher during her time there, but ultimately resigned to move to Chicago and marry Hasenstab. She helped with the church’s Ladies Aid Society, leading Bible classes, and on occasion, in her husband’s absence, she delivered sermons on Sundays. Rutherford was a student at the Illinois School for the Deaf, where he graduated in 1896. He attended Gallaudet College for one year, then became a farmer. In 1900, he joined Hasenstab in his work. Rutherford helped with the church’s outreach efforts, visiting far-flung Deaf Methodists in small towns and rural areas in Iowa, Wisconsin, Missouri, Kansas, and Nebraska. Vina Smith and Laura Sheridan helped both of the Hasenstabs, and Sheridan, like Georgia Hasenstab, sometimes gave the sermons in the Reverend Hasenstab’s absence.

Hasenstab also communicated with his flock and other interested parties via publications such as The Silent Herald, a church paper that was published for nearly 40 years on a monthly basis. This periodical included church information, transcripts of sermons, community events, and his travel schedule, among other items of interest. When Hasenstab traveled, the people he was trying to reach out to responded enthusiastically and made efforts to be able to see him. On on cold day in 1904, one man sledded 18 miles just to see Hasenstab. Another man once walked 30 miles to be able to meet Hasenstab. Hasenstab’s organized and covered church-related efforts not just in Chicago but an entire region in the Midwest. He and Rutherford split this territory, and they traveled through an area that was 240,000 square miles wide. Hasenstab’s Chicago grew rapidly, from a moderately-sized regional city that served as the Midwest’s economic and financial center to what was eventually the second largest city in the United States at that time. In 1914, Hasenstab was granted an honorary Doctor of Divinity; he continued his work ministering to the people of Chicago and the Midwest almost up until his death in 1941. His importance today stems from his outreach efforts and his influence in establishing the Methodist Church as a home for Deaf people.

My Commentary: Olney has contributed to our knowledge of Deaf clergymen of the 19th century, just as Bambach did. My only criticism of both their talks is that we received so much biographical information, and not enough about how the work of these two men influenced the present day, or how their minstries affected Gallaudet or Gallaudet-bound individuals in their regions. For example, did the periodical that Hasenstab published lead to other papers being printed? Did Hasenstab as editor correspond with other editors within the “Little Paper Family”? Are there church publications or outreach efforts later in the 20th century that owe their existence/influence to Hasenstab? The same is true of Koehler’s work. Finally, given the inordinate influence of religion on Deaf education and Deaf life, did either Hasenstab or Koehler give any thought to the dominance of religion in determining the destiny of the schools, the community, its philosophy, and the directions that Deaf America took?

We’ve just returned from our break, where everyone dutifully helped to ensure the plates of fruit and baked goods remained as empty as possible, and consumed their fair share of coffee. We’re now entering the final panel of the day, “Religion and the American Deaf Community.”

Gallaudet History department member Roberto Sanchez will introduce the panelists. First up is Dorothy Bambach, who will present about Jacob Koehler, and her paper is called “Reverend Jacob Koehler’s Kendall Green Connection: Lifeline For a Lifetime!”

In a departure from other presenters, Bambach speaks as if she was channeling Koehler; she assumes Koehler’s voice in speaking about him.

I was ordained an Episcopal priest in Redding, Pennsylvania on November 2, 1887. Only two deaf men before me were consecrated in this way. I didn’t always want to enter the ministry; originally I wanted to teach, and this is how I first came to Kendall Green, during the end of my time as a student at the Pennsylvania Institution in Philadelphia. In 1877, I wrote to Edward Miner Gallaudet and said that I desired to be a teacher, and in order to achieve my goal, I wanted to attend the National Deaf-Mute College.

I was, to my joy, accepted as a preparatory student! Let me tell you a little about myself before this time. I was born hearing, then had the “black fever” when I was 11 and became deaf. My experiences during college were exciting. I was able to see President Hayes as he delivered remarks during the 21^st anniversary celebration of the College. I also saw James A. Garfield deliver an address on Presentation Day in that same year of 1878, which also was the same year that College Hall opened.

I hated going back to Scranton on the train at the end of each term; I hated being alone with no one to interact with. I enjoyed the intellectual stimulation at college, when I gathered with my friends in the dorm rooms late at night.

But at the end of 1878, my father’s illness meant I had to leave school. My father was a Baptist preacher, and taught several languages. He also ran a school for recent German immigrants, and helped them learn English and adapt to life in the United States.

I was devastated to have to leave Washington, D.C., but I soon realized that I had completed three years of a college education, and decided in 1880 to approach the Scranton school board and attempt to get a school for the deaf opened in Scranton. I tried to enlist Gallaudet’s support, but because he was at the Milan conference, we were unable to communicate. Edward Allen Fay, however, did send a letter of reference in assistance of my plans.

I was also able to garner the support of a friend and mentor of mine, the Reverend Mr. Henry Syle, the first deaf man to be ordained a priest. We made our plea by writing on a slate in front of the school board, as we argued for a school to be opened for the deaf students in this region of Pennsylvania. We succeeded in our efforts, and in September of 1880, I was hired at forty dollars per month to be a teacher.

I used manual signs and fingerspelling in instructing my pupils, and enjoyed my work, but three years later I was asked to leave. The infamous oralist Emma Garrett, who championed the aims of the Milan conference, influenced the school board to oust me – with just two weeks notice.

Reverend Syle convinced me to shift gears and become a missionary, which was not much of a change in some ways, as I was already conducting weekly Bible study classes for the Deaf. I accepted the call, and then spent a decade ministering to the Deaf in eastern Pennsylvania, and then I was appointed vicar of the All Souls Church for the Deaf in Philadelphia. This promotion was bittersweet, for I succeeded my friend Henry Syle, who had just died.

I served in 1897 as the fifth president of the NAD, and simultaneously served as the president of the Pennsylvania Society for the Advancement of the Deaf. The NAD convention had been in Philadelphia in the previous year, 1896.

At a banquet here in Pennsylvania to celebrate the 110^th anniversary of the birth of his father, E.M. Gallaudet remarked that the first person to complete course of study, James H. Logan, was originally from Pennsylvania. He stated that Pennsylvania had the highest number of students at Gallaudet College that year, 1897. He also commented on Pennsylvania’s well-known Congressman, Thaddeus Stevens, and his steady support for the college.

In 1891, I went with Edward M. Gallaudet to the British Congress of the Deaf in Glasgow, Scotland. I had a wonderful relationship with him, and we both supported the combined method, which I defended during my travels around the United States. But one thing I have always been disappointed about was my failure to complete my studies and receive my degree. But I had a surprise from my friend Gallaudet: in 1895, I was granted an honorary Master’s degree from Gallaudet College. Another deaf priest, Austin Mann, also received an honorary degree at the same time I did. Speaking of members of the clergy, the class of 1886 had three members who decided to enter the ministry.

Dr. Gallaudet’s brother, the Reverend Thomas Gallaudet, took part in my ordination ceremony. The two of us often presented sermons and papers together, with one of us signing and the other speaking. I also want to share with you that Clerc’s hearing son Francis was also a reverend, so both Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet and Laurent Clerc had sons who became clergymen.

In the last year of my life, 1932, I donated my personal library to Gallaudet College with President Percival Hall’s approval. I gave over thirty books, including volumes written by Sicard, de l’Epee, and others going back to the 1700s. Thank you for letting me share with you the story of my life.

My Commentary: This was a delightful biographical sketch of a 19th century Deaf man who attended Gallaudet. Bambach’s assumption of the first person was a change of pace, and her efforts to tie in Koehler’s life to Gallaudet fit in with the overall conference theme. Her presentation made me think perhaps it’s time to compile a biographical anthology of notable Gallaudet graduates from the 19th century, as a way to celebrate the rise of the Deaf middle class in the decades following the founding of Kendall School in 1857 and the subsequent opening of the collegiate division. There are other possibilities too, such as an examination of religion and the 19th century Deaf community, or a history of Deaf religious leaders.

The panel, “Identity Perceptions and Discourse” is under way, with the first panelist Christopher Krentz introducing his audience to “double-consciousness.” Now Dirksen Bauman is introducing NTID’s Rebecca Edwards, an Associate Professor of History, who will present her paper, “I Junked It and Never Wore It Since: The Place of Gallaudet in the Technological Debates of the Deaf World.”

The title of my presentation is from a piece by Roger Falberg, who attended Gallaudet in the 1950’s. He wrote many articles for The Silent Worker; one is about his experiences with hearing aids. For Falberg, they didn’t work, and he likened it to “$200 thrown out the window.” He wore his aids to please his mother, but upon his arrival at Gallaudet, he took them off and didn’t wear them again.

When I read this, I saw this story as a cultural awakening. Falberg declared he was happy among people who understood him, the deaf people. He wrote his story in the hopes that at least one parent would read Falberg’s recollections, and instead send their child to a residential school. Based on this article and similar anecdotes like it, I see a nexus of issues here: Technology, Identity, and Language.

We can see other similar examples of adaptation using the current technological means, whether it is in the 21^st century or the 19^th. William Swett of Henniker, New Hampshire signed, but he always carried a small slate with him to communicate with the hearing people around him. It wasn’t exactly a Sidekick, but it aided in communication. It was a means of compromise: I’ll use your language, but in writing, not speech.

In the 19^th century, people didn’t seek technological cures for deafness they way they do now; the language and the linguistic constructs of the word “cure” isn’t common in the 19^th century Deaf world.

In 1872, John Crane, who became deaf at age ten, discussed his deafness. Because he was ten at the time of his loss, he remembered the hearing world, and went through depression. Now that he was about to grad from ASD, he reflected on his own self image. He wondered about his change in attitude as well. The school instructed him how to use the manual alphabet, and about reading, writing, and other skills, so Crane was not sorry or disappointed he was deaf. An education cures the ignorance of deaf mutes; thus language is seen as a “cure.” But Crane didn’t really want medical solutions; he merely wanted his social isolation to be alleviated.

The phrase “restoration of society” is bandied about by different people during this time. Laurent Clerc uses a form of the phrase and states that yes, deaf people want this, but on their own terms. Deaf people want to be on par with the hearing, but not necessarily have to acquiesce to the linguistic demands of the majority.

Crane’s experiences led to the exploration of his self-identity and an eventual acceptance. This is all an example similar to “double consciousness,” as Krentz pointed out just earlier.

Deaf people tended to face skepticism from the society around them about what their quality of life could be, and endured hearing assumptions about what deafness was really like, along with such sentiments as “Isn’t life horrible due to deafness,” and similar reactions. This is not something old or new: these notions are ongoing concerns of hearing people and constitute a topic Deaf people have to revisit over and over again.

The claiming of cultural deafness and physical deafness go hand in hand; often, accepting one meant accepting the other. So we go from Swett to Crane to Falberg, and see the same issues arise again and again.

So where does Gallaudet fit into all this? There’s only one example of someone abandoning their hearing aids in published records, but there is plenty of anecdotal evidence of people who have tossed their hearing aids and other assistive devices.

Gallaudet University is a focal place where people can live a Deaf life and not have to spend time and energy trying to “fix themselves.” Gallaudet is all about being a culturally Deaf place as much as it is about being a physically Deaf place.

Edwards feels that technological changes within the Deaf community was actually a key part of the recent upheavals last year. There are lots of other working theories out there that examine what happened, what it was all about, or what it meant, from “She’s cold,” “She’s distant,” “She’s not enough of a leader,” but Edwards sifted through media coverage of the various themes. She noticed there were constant minor notes of cochlear implants and the oralism that this promoted. I. King Jordan‘s Op-Ed piece in January 2007 mentions that he feels that there is a struggle for the definition of Gallaudet. Edwards quotes the well-known sentence about “absolutists.” She then says that Jordan and Jane Fernandes embraced an inclusionist view of Gallaudet, and that they believe that one group of people cannot determine the entire vision of the university for the entire community.

Gallaudet has primarily an educational mission, but it is also where people come to learn about their cultural deafness. It’s where they come to claim both their physical and cultural deafness. Edwards feels it is not up to either side to define what Gallaudet means to any individual. Edwards feels that Jordan thinks that those who are “absolutists” are not inclusive. But if you look at some of the early mission statements of various groups and organizations, they are inclusive. She cites one group’s constitution in 1854, which called for any deaf person to join, regardless of communication mode or status of deafness.

There was a wide audiological range then, yes, from people who could be classified “hard of hearing,” to “late-deafened,” to deaf from birth, but these people all signed because there were no oral schools at that time; there was no other real choice educationally then. So the homogeneity of this time combined it the call for all deaf people to join if they wish to do so is the kind of inclusiveness Jordan’s “absolutists” are calling for today. Fernandes claimed that students were afraid of technological changes such as implants, but Edwards thinks that today’s students are not Luddites. The Deaf community has embraced a number of technological changes such as blogging, text messaging, IM, pagers, and many other forms of communication via technology. But Deaf people are seeking technology that enables them to live a Deaf life, not a hearing one. The media wants to paint the deaf world as an isolated one, but in reality deaf people want to be connected to the world and to society, and on equal terms, but also on their own terms.

No man is an island who has a Sidekick! [audience laughter]

Edwards says she’s just a historian, not a futurist, but she feels Gallaudet would better serve its future by affirming its role in the deaf community, rather than trying to run away from it. Edwards feels it may be best to have an ASL-speaking person and a non-voicer at the head of the school. This is the kind of leader who would make the greatest impression on the hearing world, and people need to see that kind of role model; the non-speaking, “strong Deaf” cultural representatives who can be fantastic ambassadors of this culture to the hearing world.

Q & A

Lee [last name, first name?]: Is your belief that an ASL-using, non-speaking, Deaf-centered leader is best intended for deaf leadership in general or for Gallaudet only?

Edwards: This is all risky speculation on my part; it was just a conclusion that I reached strictly about Gallaudet’s presidency. I don’t know enough about the present state or needs of deaf clubs and other organizations to make such a recommendation. I know that this is an ongoing historical argument about what kind of leaders the community should have or try to have: someone with great English skills, or someone with great ASL skills? But at the moment I don’t have the evidence to reach an answer for you.

Elizabeth Matthews [from Ireland, not very skilled in ASL, so will voice my comment]: Technology use on Deaf terms– do you think it possible to be culturally deaf and to use a cochlear implant on Deaf terms, or do you think you have to junk CIs at the front gates too?

Edwards: Great question. I’m not going to write it off. I think all technology and technological advances are open to subversion and can be used in ways the creators/makers didn’t intend. Yes, I can see deaf people doing this, but of course hearing parents are not choosing CIs as a means of asserting or encouraging a Deaf identity but more in terms of achieving conformity and hearing norms.

Lois Bragg: I want to respond to this. I have a cochlear implant, and I doubt I’m the only one in room [some in the audience nod or murmur agreement] I’m not the only one, ok. I got my implant last year; before that, my audiogram was essentially blank. I could hear or sense no environmental sounds at all. Now I do detect environmental background noises, and now I’m more aware of hearing oppression, hearing bad manners, and I feel a bit more empowered as a deaf person and I don’t know why.

Doug Bahl: This question is for Lois and Diana. I’m involved with researching the history of the schools in Minnesota. One superintendent came from Hartford, and a maiden name in that family was Wadsworth, and now I’m wondering about the connection. Anyway, speaking of the fingerspelling method, I’m wondering if they tried to do some kind of printed version showing this system? A woodcut, or drawing, or other such visual material? How did you find out about this?

Bragg: Lewis Weld said that the Cogswells had a fingerspelling chart of some sort. and Lydia Sigourney, she did say she used a two-handed alphabet, but we’re not sure if it is the British alphabet; we haven’t found any evidence. We did see in the records that the Cogswells ordered books from Paris, and some were written by Sicard, but the books we’ve researched did not show anything about translating spoken French into signed French, and there’s no real application here, because Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet didn’t know French, and he had to learn a great deal of French before he could fully understand Clerc. Sigourney could read and write French, but she didn’t have these kinds of charts, drawings, or other similar printed matter, so we think it was a system that was created by the Cogswell family—home signs, so to speak.

Patti Durr: This question is for Edwards. Can you explain the traditional definition for the word “absolutist”? Does that word in history tend to mean people who are very inflexible and strict? Does it mean autocratic leadership? From a historical perspective, what do we mean by that term? Is that something that could have been taken and used about the recent protest? Can you apply historical understanding of the term and why it’s been used to describe protesters?

Edwards: I would like to know more of the etymology myself. I hadn’t expected to confront the term, and I was surprised when it popped up in the Op-Ed piece. Yes, it implies rigidity, and it does suggest unchanging, and ties into Fernandes talking about fear. It does project a vision of people who won’t compromise.

I thought that this word didn’t really describe the students. I was thinking more about 1854 and the language of inclusivity. Really, this speaks to an understanding of the center but historically the Deaf community has also talked about that same diversity; some speak, some sign, and so on, but they always talk about people collectively sharing one Deaf culture together, and not having it fall apart into five hundred tiny pieces. I felt this was the vision that the students were talking about, then I was surprised when it was reinterpreted back as absolutist rigid exclusivity.

Dirksen Bauman: A question for Krentz. About double-consciousness, you mention Carlin’s contradictions. Do you think most 19^th century deaf writers had that double-consciousness in their writing? Did this attitude or perception appear in Flournoy’s writings, for example?

Krentz: Great question. Flournoy was late-deafened, and went through a difficult adjustment to deafness. He sometimes used the term “misfortune” in speaking of deaf people in his writing, so that word could be read as a example of double-consciousness. You could certainly make that argument, yes.

Dirksen Bauman takes the stage and introduces Chris Krentz, a Deaf professor at the University of Virginia; Bauman notes that this fall, Krentz will publish a book based on his dissertation, called “Writing Deafness.”

I’m going to talk about Deaf writers from the 19^th century, with the specific subject being John Carlin. I want to first introduce to you a theory presented by W.E.B. du Bois.

“It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his twoness.

This 1903 quote was about the consciousness of blacks and how the majority white community viewed them. This quote is really relevant to any minority group, including the Deaf, who are oppressed by hearing people. So today I want to explore double- consciousness in relation to the works of John Carlin.

Carlin was born deaf, and had a deaf brother. He attended the Pennsylvania School for the Deaf. He was a painter, poet, writer, and sculptor. He painted miniatures. In the 1850’s and 1860’s, Deaf people gathered at conferences, where Carlin was often invited to speak. He was the first person to receive an honorary degree from Gallaudet, and he was the keynote speaker at that event. While Carlin couldn’t speak, he accomplished a great deal during his life. He had a deaf wife.

Krentz now shows an excerpt from Carlin’s “The Mute’s Lament” (1847)

Carlin was fluent in written English, but it was sad at times because of his personal attitudes. There’s an element of self-pity in his poetry, particularly This piece, “The Mute’s Lament.” Here, Carlin is adopting a hearing view of deaf people in this poem, which contradicts his own accomplishments. We would refer to this attitude today as self-hatred.

I want to explore today this irony that you can see in Carlin and his work. He definitely displays this sense of double-consciousness, according to du Bois’ interpretation. But the poem could possibly have a hidden or even dual meaning: it can be interpreted as an expression of self-hatred, or potentially as a display of irony.

Carlin called for a national college for the deaf. He discussed the reasons why in an 1854 article in the American Annals of the Deaf: “There can be found no difference between speaking persons or deaf mutes, of the higher class, in imagination, strength of mind, depth of thought and quickness of perception”

He added that some deaf scholars could become “civil engineers, physicians, surgeons, lawyers and statesmen.” But he was talking here about the cream of the crop though, not the average deaf person. However, in the same article, he mentions that deaf people “Don’t have that blessed auditory sense.” The contradictions are evident in his various statements. du Bois also addresses these types of contradictions and described this as “two warring souls.”

As another example of Carlin’s varied views on deafness, Deaf people, and deaf-related issues, Krentz briefly summarizes the debate between John J. Flournoy and Carlin over the establishment of a separate Deaf region, including Carlin’s statements about a sign-dominated world and ASL being “Gesturia.” This type of comment showed Carlin’s belief that English was superior to sign language.

Carlin commented on the potential for social mobility via the National Deaf-Mute College; apparently Carlin didn’t see white collar professionals as a common occurrence that the community could expect; he believed that successful Deaf citizens would be few and far between.Carlin’s comments during his presentation at the Empire State Association of Deaf-Mutes convention in 1869 included his feeling that prejudice was the biggest barrier and that he felt this prejudice stemmed from “ignorance than malice.”

In general, Carlin was a mass of self-contradictions, but he does end up being a good example of “double-consciousness” during the 19^th century and shows the type of inner conflict Deaf people suffer when they exhibit “double-consciousness.”

My Commentary: Krentz’s use of parallel examinations of other minorities turns up some interesting comparisons using the concept of “double-consciousness.” This term is new to me, but reminds me of Genie Gertz’s mentions of dysconscious audism, which also fits the bill. Thus, I think Krentz is exploring a topic that is trendy, but from the angle of Black Studies. It’s an approach that I think is both warranted and welcome. One thing I was left wondering about though was whether Carlin ever realized some of the self-contradictions he generated, and if he ever reconciled the two halves of his being. If Krentz is not sure of the answer, then that suggests an avenue for continued research, whether by Krentz or someone else. In any event, Carlin represents a real paradox, and it might be interesting to see if other educated Deaf and deaf people of Carlin’s time shared similar assertions and doubts about themselves and their place in society. It could be that the answer is in Krentz’s upcoming book.

CORRECTION: I originally posted that Carlin’s wife was hearing; thanks to an alert reader, I contacted Krentz. Carlin’s wife was deaf. I regret the error, and have made the necessary correction in this entry.

We have returned from lunch, and we’re all ready for the afternoon sessions. Dirksen Bauman is now introducing Edna Sayers [Lois Bragg] and Diana Gates, who will present on “Lydia Sigourney.”

[It is a lecture combined with PowerPoint, but it does mean that there is considerable information both on the screen and directly from Bragg and Gates, which means sometimes it’s hard to figure out which you should be paying attention to.]

The education of Alice Cogswell and the foundations of deaf education are portrayed as a noble act by Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet. This is what Paddy Ladd calls “the Grand Narrative,” where Deaf communities are constructed solely as the end products of hearing educators.

Nowadays we consider Laurent Clerc as a founder of Deaf education in the United States, but our assertion is that these two gentlemen wouldn’t have gotten as far as they did without Lydia Sigourney and the Cogswells.

The 19^th century had restrictive roles for women, but it was also a period of change for women—Lydia Huntley Sigourney played a vital role in history of deaf education. She was also the first woman to be self sufficient through writing, and the first successful teacher of deaf child in America.

Bragg and Gates now compare a number of years in the lives of the three central figures: Alice Cogswell, Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet, and Lydia Sigourney [and to a lesser extent, Laurent Clerc]. For example, in the year 1807, Alice became deaf, Clerc taught alongside Sicard, Gallaudet studied law and literature, and became a traveling salesman, and Lydia, who was aged 16, started a school in her hometown.

By 1809, Alice was attending school, but there’s further information on her education. In 1812, Mason Fitch Cogswell contacted the Braidwoods, but got no response. Gallaudet, meanwhile, lived at home, tried different jobs, but then decided to enter the Andover Seminary and prepare for the ministry.

The famous “hat story” was probably not true. It seems to have originated with Lewis Weld, who didn’t meet Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet until 1818. The Cogswell family historian, Grace Cogswell Root, also concurs and says this story probably apocryphal. But while Gallaudet is at Andover, he became interested in deaf people.

It seems that Alice and her family communicated via home signs, according to a February 1812 letter that indicates that there was some sort of fingerspelling method used. By the seminal year of 1814, Alice was nine; Gallaudet was 27, a recent graduate of Andover, and ready to preach; and Lydia at age 23 was teaching in Norwich, Connecticut. In that same year of 1814, Daniel Wadsworth, with whose family Lydia Sigourney was friends with, suggested she open a school in Hartford. Wadsworth selected fifteen pupils and also maintained waiting list. The Cogswell sisters Mary Elizabeth and Alice were students; apparently Wadsworth saw Alice as educable.

So how did Lydia Sigourney manage to mainstream Alice? In 1814, Sigourney stated: “Having no guidance in the specialties of instruction for deaf people, I was aided by her classmates in using signs.”

Sigourney thus built on visual communication; her signing wasn’t based on actual language but on a mix of abstract representations and fingerspelling. It appears their signing was fairly sophisticated given the situation. But we should assume that the fingerspellling is the same system that the Cogswell family used.

At end of Alice’s first year with Huntley, Cogswell advanced with a new plan. In April 1815 was Cogswell’s planning session for a new school. We believe that Alice’s progress with Lydia Sigourney meant that her father realized that a school was needed and was now feasible. Because he still couldn’t contact the Braidwoods, he forged ahead on his own and asked Gallaudet to travel to Europe. While Gallaudet was in Europe, Alice continued with Sigourney.

There were letters from Alice in the summer of 1815, and they were addressed to Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet. They were written a year after she started with Sigourney. In September, 1815, Mason Cogswell wrote to Alice’s cousin Harriet and enclosed a letter from Alice. The story and letters written by Alice reflect a syntax of signed language [the letters are being shown on the PowerPoint presentation, and are not on the screen for very long] Gallaudet wrote back and praised Alice for her writing – he returned with Clerc in 1816, but school didn’t open until 1817.

Alice transferred from the educational guidance of Sigourney to the hands of Clerc and Gallaudet. Because the two teachers didn’t have to deal with fourteen other pupils in a different language, now
Alice’s English improved. Her English shows improvement after eight months with Gallaudet and Clerc, but still shows the influence of signing syntax.

35 years later, in 1851, the school is now a success. Alice is dead, and now so is Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet. The keynote speaker at the memorial service for Gallaudet was Henry Barnard, a Yale graduate and Hartford resident who was editor of the American Journal of Education. We can now see the overarching influence of Yale-educated men and the removal of Sigourney from the narrative. While Sigourney is at the memorial service, and is now a renowned poet, she is not recognized to the full extent. Barnard acknowledges Sigourney’s role in the early education of Alice, but shifted the narrative to Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet, and Barnard presents Alice as a tabula rasa prior to meeting Gallaudet and Clerc, and paints Gallaudet as the savior, completely discounting Sigourney.

Lewis Weld, another Yale graduate, was recruited in 1818 by Thomas Gallaudet to work at ASD; he married Mary Cogswell, Alice’s older sister, and in 1830 became principal of ASD. He too picked up Barnard’s narrative and recounted the now famous hat story. There’s now an element of male dominance, and the rejection of women as anything other than the pupil in question.

The family historian Grace Cogswell Root stated that we will never “know the relative importance of the past played by Alice’s two teachers, Miss Huntley and the Reverend Gallaudet…”

My Commentary: It was apparent from the quick, furtive interaction between Bragg and Gates that they had to leave quite a bit out. Nevertheless, their presentation reminds us that there are often two sides to a story, and it is important to include Sigourney again in the overall narrative. The primary weaknesses of this presentation was the rushed use of PowerPoint slides matched by a hurried lecture. In any conference, there is usually an approximately 20 minute time limit, so it becomes necessary to boil any presentation down to one or two essential facts. Additionally, the time line was interesting, but it would have been far more helpful to try to understand more about Sigourney’s relationship with Alice, her relationships with Gallaudet and Clerc, if any, and her role in education, if any, after she passed Alice over to Gallaudet and Clerc. Additionally, at a time when men worked as teachers more often than females, it would be interesting to explore Sigourney’s pioneering role in education to a further extent. Still, this was an excellent presentation and both debunks some myths and adds some solid realities to the origins of Deaf education, which often doubles as a cultural “origin” story for the Deaf community.

Brian Greenwald takes the stage and announces that there will be no break.  Instead, we’ll let Bauman and Bahan resume their presentation. Ben says that we want the lights to stay on too, this time [audience laughter].

 Bahan: we’ll start where we left off yesterday. Hansel Bauman will do the majority of today’s portion of our presentation.

Bauman: Now I’m tryng to remember where we were. I went to airport this morning and Dirksen called me and said give it another try, so we’ll make it fast before the lights go out again [audience laughter]. We are going to go back one slide and show you the Olmsted master plan again. We want to look at the history of the campus in three elements: how space is used, how collective spaces are made on campus, and connectivity. In this first master plan, you can see mixed-use buildings, residential buildings, and the spaces created in between them. There are large, formally landscaped areas for community use. The mixed-use buildings are full of life, with dorms in the upper floors and levels, and  administrative offices. Everything’s in one building. You can see this in the Dawes House plan too. There are bedrooms in the upper reaches, study rooms, school rooms, and there’s even a sitting room, so it’s a very collectivist building. Then you can see this huge expanse in front of Faculty Row, where people could sit on the porches and enjoy open space.

The 1870 purchase of the remainder of Kendall Green facilitated Gallaudet’s desire to keep the outside world at bay. He was concerned about breweries and slaughterhouses going up near campus. The early campus was oriented parallel to Boundary Street/Florida Avenue. Following the 1870 purchase, the community grew back from the street.

There was expansion following 1945 with growth in buildings and enrollment. Now you have a mall that is surrounded by outer roadway [Lincoln Circle]. There are clear distinctions as well: KDES is now separate from the university compared with before. The same is true with the dormitories, which are beyond the campus “beltway.”

You start to see distinct spheres developing compared with before 1970. Now the map on the screen, it’s of the 1975 master plan and shows mixed uses. there’s Ely, Peet, Cogswell, Krug. Then there’s Faculty Row and what is now Clerc Hall. It’s all spread out a bit, and the same with the buildings for the administration and education; it’s all interspersed but green space is now diffused as well. How will Gallaudet orient itself? Around the central mall or around  the roadway? Buildings here are trying to adddress both desires. Is there connectivity based on roads or sidewalks? There’s a shrinking mall and “residential sprawl”– all this sorth of a schizophrenic approach to the campus.

 The dorms are now surrounding Hansen Plaza, and are separate from main campus. The main question is, where do people come together now– where is a center place? There’s a greater segregation. Housing is now beyond Lincoln Circle, academic and administrative buildings are towards the front of campus, so now the only real multi-use building on campus is the SAC. Everything else is more unique to a single purpose these days.

The 1975 master plan really kicked off  this direction towards divisions between uses of campus space. The collective space today is Olmsted Green, and the mall as well. But there’s no place to sit, no real comfort zone. Over here you have Hanson Plaza, which is a concrete roof for the parking area. It’s hardscape, and is not really connected to the ground. It’s a place to move through, an area of transition. Now we’re looking at places where people congregate, such as the oval green in front of the Kellogg Center, the outdoor “amphitheater” seating in Hanson Plaza, and the tables outside the SAC by Ely.

Another issue is, where is the university’s “front door” and “back door?” Building entrances on Lincoln Circle such as Chapel Hall constitute a ”front door,” while entrances on the perimeter of the mall are often considered “back doors.” Where do people approach? The Thornberry Building for example has no real formal entrance. Peet is another example– while the official entrance is opposite the GUKCC, a sign on the door there tells students to use the rear patio entrance by the RA office as their entry to the dorm. So now there’s a need for determining and better creating a collective space. Ben Bahan will finish up on this part.

Bahan: Front or back? That’s a question we have. Where is the social heart for the campus? We think the mall should be re-oriented for central focus, because that is where people usually approach from, or should it be Lincoln Circle, where visitors and outsiders are coming in. So who has priority here: users or observers? The new SLCC presents an opportunity to redevelop the relationships between buildings and space on campus. The pathways in slcc are being designed for easy access from both the mall and the dorms. Also, the building is being designed with external space in mind, the incorporation of greenery, and public space. In the master plans, when the library is eventually razed, the green space will be restored. Another example here regarding orientation: Yesterday when the lights went out, people were trying to find a place to recongregate. We finally gravitated towards natural light. We couldn’t use the Foster Auditorium [previously Ely Auditorium] because there’s no lighting there. All the normal places to meet, none have natural light except Chapel Hall. Chapel Hall is an old building, and is truly timeless. The SLCC designers want to create a building in the same vein, that is equally timeless.

Now, the Sixth Street warehouse area will undergo large redevelopment very soon, and Gallaudet is keeping an eye on that as we create interpersonal relations with the community around us. At present, the campus is separate from the city. I interviewed a black Deaf Washingtonian and asked what his view of Gallaudet was as he grew up in the city. [Bahan shows video clip] 

Bahan: Did you visit Gallaudet while you were at Overlea?

Willard Shorter: No, but I knew of Gallaudet. I used to live on 12th, between 12 and 13th actually, and between I and H. A fairly small block. My street was Whale Street, and the house number was 1249. I was born there. The community today is not what it was like when I was growing up. I knew there were deaf people there, but it wasn’t a place for me. When I became deaf…

Bahan: how old were you.

Shorter:  Oh, about 10 or 12- it’s not important [audience laughter]. When I became deaf, I was so scared because I had never seen a black Deaf person before in my life. I knew of the white deaf over at Gallaudet. I saw them walking down the street and signing with each other. I did meet another friend who was also black Deaf, but we thought were were the only two black Deaf in the world! 

Now Bahan shows an article from a Gallaudet yearbook that describes briefly the intended erection of a wall and an outside gate. The debate today still continues about crime in outside area, yes, but we need to consider this: will we continue to isolate ourselves and be separate, or do we want to interweave ourselves with D.C.? It is a challenge Gallaudet faces. Yesterday we talked about Douglas Craig who was well-beloved, but here you have Willard Shorter thinking he’s the only one. That’s not a great part of our history.

This physical segregation is present too across the street. Currently the Sixth Street view is the of the warehouses. That’s the view beyond the gates, and it is the “back side” of their community. This is a division: both ours and theirs.

I’m now going to show a dvd from Choi, who is the developer of the Sixth Street market area, and he’s talking about his vision for the future. [Plays DVD] The New Town Development LLC plans for changes in and around the Union Market which is now 85 years old, and is a tired building, as well as the surrounding area. Choi want to create an urban village with shoppping and dining experiences, and want to incorporate existing businesses with minimal disruptions. At  Sixth Street we will have wholesale and warehouse shopping. The older buildings from  the 1920s will be restored and adapted. We will have lofts, condos, and an aparment area close to the subway stop. There will be nearly 1600 units, with affordable housing set-asides as well. We’re also planning for a YMCA there as well. The DVD mentions by name the Ivy City and Trinidad areas, and that these residents will be served by this project.

The entire time the audience is watching this DVD, the only mention of Gallaudet is its name in the subway stop! Bahan doesn’t have to say anything– the DVD has spoken on its own. This clip is the end of the presentation.

 Brian Greenwald: Well, the electricity stayed on, we survived! We’ll have a brief Q & A session now.

Pauline Spanbauer: One thing I noticed in your talk is the absence of Hamilton Junior High. What is the prospect of the sale of that building? Then there’s also the old Kendall School. I think maybe we need to keep that as a museum. We don’t have a museum, so maybe a good location?

Bahan: i don’t have info on Hamilton so I can’t give you specifics– it doesn’t belong to us anymore, have to reconfigure campus without that property. About Kendall Hall; Gallaudet is still figuring out what to do with it. A museum is possible, but at this time undetermined.

Denny Voreck : We need to consider city services as well. We need more of a tied-in relationship to D.C.,yes, but we also need to consider city services, as well as the ADA. So I encourage you to think about the relationship between “town and gown;” for example, encouraging people to run for public office. We also should consider using community block grants for improvements and development in the communities. Utah’s new community center is an example of that.

Roberto Palella: I want to address the SLCC. I’m wondering about deaf needs and visual space, but what else is there that relates to public space? We need to consider environmental factors with global warming and all, so how will that be included?

Bauman: Excellent point– glad you brought it up. The plan is to make the SLCC LEAD certified. LEAD is a system of measurements and goals for making buildings sustainable. The university will get a certain amount of LEAD credits and plans on the SLCC being a LEAD certified building. The new design includes vegetation, shade trees, and the inclusion of natural lighting. Green issues were brought up at the very first workshop along with Deaf principles. we want the architecture to be connected to nature, and the best way is to use natural systems in a way to make the building sustainable not just in construction, but also in operation.

My Commentary: This was a different presentation, but takes the perspective of examining history through physical location, buildings, and public space. The major limitations here of course involve the fact that there is a limited amount of space to work with– just 99 acres and nearly every inch is already covered. But as both Bahan and Bauman point out, the SLCC represents a real opportunity to design a deaf-friendly mixed-use building and to learn from it. Perhaps the “brick” controversy pales in comparison with the rich potential for exploring and creating “deaf space,” instilling an interest and potential career elements of architecture and urban planning in students, and encouraging the work of Deaf and Deaf-friendly architects. The presentation itself is excellent, but points out the need for the administration to engage the larger community (Choi and D.C. for example) in planning together for the future.

The second keynote speech has concluded; tomorrow, we’ll be listening to Paddy Ladd and his presentation on Deafhood. It should be a very interesting talk, and a good companion to the wonderful presentations by McPherson and Jordan. We’ve all returned from our break, and everyone’s ready for the panel sessions to begin.

Arlene B. Kelly introduces Lindsey Parker and Jessica Lee. But first, she informs the audience: “Before we begin: first, I made a mistake yesterday, when I mentioned that Gil Eastman was the first Deaf department chair on campus, but I was wrong about that.” [I wasn't able to catch who she identified as the first Deaf chair; hopefully I'll either be able to find Kelly later and add this information, or perhaps you can, in the comments]

I’m excited to introduce two of my former students this morning. Both pursued M.A. degrees in Deaf Studies here, with a concentration in history. Now both are doing doctoral work focusing on Deaf history and Deaf Studies.

Lee will speak first; her topic is “Family Matters”: “I haven’t been here since I graduated three years ago. It’s nice to be back!” She then says that during this conference, we’ve talked a lot about the history of Gallaudet, and mainly about deaf white males. So Lindsey Parker and I would like to shift the focus to Deaf women.  Today I will talk about the metaphor of family, in the context of Deaf schools in the early 1900s from, oh, about 1917 to the 1930’s. I’ll be looking at discursive practices, which means it’s about how people talk about how people write and make policies and how decisions impact how people experience the world. It’s also about how people use language to shift the discourse or brand a subject or person.

I’ll be looking specifically at the types of options that women had during their education, and how discursive practices relate to those options. People have talked about how Deaf culture forms when people congregate in the same area. For example, on Martha’s Vineyard you had genetic deafness create a sizeable Deaf population, which led to Deaf culture.

People are usually introduced to Deaf culture when attending school. When you examine this via gender, you see the metaphor of family is valid — it is truly a maternal experience, but the schools also had patriarchial roles because of the male administrators, so  all this ended with women limited in  their career options.

The two genders tracked in different directions, which revealed overt and covert practices in relation to both genders. You can see examples in dorm life, where females were trained to become wives and mothers, which were their only real options after graduation. The schools had both internal and external influences, because most Deaf children had hearing parents, which meant that communication was limited. Also, some families didn’t have money or the means to visit, so sending kids away from home at such young ages meant that parents often didn’t know if morals or good values and life skills would be taught.  These social aspects are normally taught and modeled at home by the family. Because of this separation between parents and children, administrators had to reassure parents that children would receive the appropriate training and become good students and citizens. Thus, the curriculum and dorm life had to reflect that.

Traditionally at the time, but you could say this still continues today, but definitely at that time,  it was the mother’s responsibility to inculcate values, while fathers were looked at as protectors, providers, and religious leaders. You see these roles re-enacted by the faculty and staff at the residential schools.

So maternal roles were adopted towards young students, who enrolled in school unaware about how to effectively communicate in a social setting, or emulate appropriate behaviors. Thus women working in the dorms had to do extracurricular teaching, help celebrate birthdays and other momentous life events, dole out punishments, assign chores, and similar responsibilities. Younger girls often had to dust and make the beds, while older girls were in charge of cooking and working in cafeteria.  Boys did yard work, grounds maintenance, and other typical masculine jobs.

We’ve all heard a lot about Kendall School’s first superintendent yesterday: Edward Miner Gallaudet. He was a provider, protector, and a lay leader for religious concerns. When he died in 1917, a number of students made entries in their journals, wrote articles, and lamented his passing. He created a precedent for the role of superintendent at schools nationwide.

One example of this influence took place at  the Virginia School for the Deaf and Blind. Some of the historians in the audience might be familiar with Mr. Gates, one of the early superintendents. He once wrote a letter to parents saying, “I feel that my relationship with students is more serious and more fatherly than others because my students are more helpless and more dependent on me. I am committed to protecting and providing for those students.” Obviously you can see how that sets a certain tone and reinforces the paternal role.

Female teachers were referred to back then as “mothers,” so they were surrogates in a way. During the high-tide era of oralism, women were recruited to conduct speech training and lipreading.  This meant hearing female teachers were cast in the role of training students. It was widely believed they had the patience to teach these skills, whereas men didn’t.

Boys were often excluded from speech training during this time. This double standard between the sexes reinforced curriculum choices and the perception of gender and disability. For example, at the New York School for the Deaf [Fanwood], boys were expected to know the entire contents  of their history book from cover to cover, while girls were only expected to know a substantial portion.

Another example is the question and answer session conducted by a board member at one school. He wanted the boys he queried to detail the tax policies of Alfred the Great and other exact details of the era, but then turned around and asked the girls what was their favorite time period in history, and why. He asked the boys detailed questions in chemistry and exact chemical formulas. The girls, on the other hand, were asked what their favorite flower was. Essentially, girls were expected to learn how to carry on a conversation, but not to be able to have critical discussions or continue their education.

Communication was an issue too– the only time girls signed publicly was in campus drama recitals. At graduation,  the boys gave speeches, while the girls signed songs. Deaf adults also reinforced the need for gender roles, as well, by admonishing their children and youth to follow pre-determined behaviors and expectations. Vocational education for the boys focused on their potential future careers, while girls learned how to manage and maintain a household, and not skills for economic independence.

At school, girls were “sisters” and ”daughters,” then in adulthood, mothers and wives.  This stratification really hewed to biological constructs of roles, rather than their potential. In sum, that was the definition of being a successful deaf woman. In sum, you can see discursiveness here in the reinforced language and expectations.

It is now Parker’s portion of the panel. She is going to have a PowerPoint presentation as well. Her talk today is derived from her Master’s thesis and is titled “The Women of Kendall Green: 1890-1940.” During the preliminary research she found that there was not all that much on Deaf women’s history. Now she is focusing on women at Gallaudet during the late 1800’s and early 1900’s.

In America, women had their own colleges and schools during this time, although these were rather limited. Very few schools were co-ed; Oberlin College in Ohio was the first to accept women, in 1833. The National Deaf-Mute College’s first class in 1864 consisted of six students, two of whom were women. So at the very begining, Gallaudet was already ahead of the times. 

In 1864, the two women that entered only completed one year as preparatory students.  The following year, another woman matriculated, but again, this student only completed the prep year. Finally, the last woman during the early years to enter the college stayed and completed her sophomore year before she left in 1871. Most people think the start of women as students at Gallaudet was in 1887, but actually women attended the collegiate program during its first few years. After Lydia Mitchell completed her sophomore year and left, EMG decided not to admit any more women.

However, women continued to argue for inclusion at Gallaudet. An American Annals of the Deaf article by Laura Sheridan in 1875 asked whether the National Deaf-Mute College’s mission included women, when its mission statement clearly said  that deaf people were eligible for admission, without any references to a specific gender.

In 1886, Georgia Elliott sent a letter to the CAID that advocated higher education for women. She was then in her senior year at the Illinois School for  the Deaf, and wanted very much to go to Kendall Green for college. Also in the same year a hearing organization,  the Western Association of Collegiate Alumnae also pushed for the admittance of women to the college. In their argument, this group noted that the institution relied on federal monies, and then threatened to contact the federal  government and have Congress pull the school’s funding.

Bowing to pressure, E.M. Gallaudet and his administration decided in 1887 to admit six women for an experimental period  of two years. There was no real place for them in terms of housing and other facilities: they were not on par with their male counterparts.

Now that they had a foothold, the new female students created “A Place of Their Own” at Gallaudet. Over the next few years they founded O.W.L.S.  in 1892; helped start the Buff and Blue the same year; the first graduates were Alto Lowman in 1893 and Agatha Tiegel in 1894;  in 1894 and 1895 the valedictorians were womoen; in 1896, the women started a basketball team (which predated the start of the men’s basketball program by ten years); and in 1897 created the Shakespeare Society.

At the 1893 graduation program on Presentation Day, Tiegel gave a speech titled ”The Intellect of Women.” She talked about male perspectives of women. In the following years, other women gave speeches on Presentation Day. Many of these speeches commented on the inequalities between men and women, in spite of the fact that both were receiving college educations.

Q & A period.

David Evans: Did hearing women try to push for women’s rights in deaf community akin to what was happening at that time outside of  the Deaf community and Gallaudet?

Parker and Lee: Yes, to a degree. there’s still a need for more work in this area, but yes, there were women pushing for increased access for deaf women in higher education, and probably in other areas too.

commenter: I’d like to know what chapters the girs were not required to know in their history books; was it material that was considered masculine, such as warfare?

Lee: Yes, the chapters not required focused on war.

William Ennis: Great talk! The focus here is on the inferior position women faced within education; you then looked at differences. What’s the balance here?

Lee: This is my first attempt here at research in history, so I’m looking at uni-directional power structures and how suppression worked so there’s a  backlash– I’m taking a simplified view, Lindsey’s is a more complex view.

Parker: Yes, women that were admitted to Gallaudet showed that there was a desire on the part of women. They came from the NYSD, the Pennsylvania School, Illinois SD… they’re coming to college from specific institutions. There’s more research needed.

Denny Voreck: I’d like to mention women’s politics at Gallaudet. During DPN, a female president was picked, then the protest happened.  The same thing happened just now– Jane Fernandes, a woman was picked, then a protest started. My question is, do you detect a reaction against women in leadership roles?

Arlene Kelly: No, it’s really just a question of bad timing. Leadership was called into question, but I don’t think gender had anything to do with this. I’ve been pondering this for a while, and actually a student is doing a senior thesis on this topic, and exploring deaf female faculty and uncovering patterns that indicate sexism. An example– many faculty here were at Kendall School before coming to the main campus and initially the early teachers were single, not married.

Aaron Kelstone: In my presentation I explored the role that O.W.L.S. played in developing theater.  What did O.W.L.S. stand for?

Parker: It’s a secret. I can’t divulge that. You’ll have to join the sorority to find out [audience laughter]. [Parker later stated that contrary to what her words implied, she has no knowledge of what the letters mean. She was unable to find a PKZ member who was willing to share this information in the interests of historical knowledge and contributing to the historical understanding of the role of women in Gallaudet's history]

Graham O’Shea: I’m from Ireland, so I may mix up ASL with ISL. I was just thinking about all the women you listed as attending in the first few years: all six had Irish names. I’m wondering if they were all Irish, whether they were born in Ireland, or if their parents  were first-generation Americans?

Parker: Good question. I’m not sure of their backgrounds, sorry. I can’t answer the question. 

Paddy Ladd: I also may combine BSL with ASL, so I will try my best to be understandable. In Harlan Lane’s book When The Mind Hears, I remember looking at the book and thinking about Sophia Fowler Gallaudet. I’m wondering if there’s more connections to explore in the school’s history about the “Queen of Gallaudet” and her role. Also, are there more secrets other than the meaning of O.W.L.S.?

Parker: She died in 1877,  so she had already retired and then died before the first fully matriculated women arrived and started their studies ten years later. She may have had some earlier influence during the time of the original six women, but I’m not sure at this time.

Paddy Ladd: It’s interesting that girls were more of a focus in oralist training, when it was the boys who actually went out into the world, while girls were to stay home. Can you comment on that?

Lee: At that time, the trend was to encourage deaf women to marry hearing men so that they could have better options in marriage. It really was all about social mobility [My thoughts: could the eugenicist movement and Bell's influence in spreading his fears about a "deaf race" have contributed to this tendency to pair deaf women with hearing men?].

Arlene Kelly: Hearing female teachers served as role models in a way that they couldn’t do so with the boys.

Ramilda Danesi: I’m from Italy, and I want to know about the first deaf woman in 1864: how did she gain admission to the university?

Parker: There was already one woman at Kendall who graduated from there.  She was in the preparatory program and sort of just transitioned from one program to the other, but she did take the admissions test, same as the men, and approved to be admitted.

Marieta Joyner: I’m wondering about racism and imbalance, and wondering if there was any bridge between women of different races to combat inequality?

Parker: Oh that’s a great question. We’re really just starting to get into research, one of the topics we need to look at.

 My Commentary: These two papers were excellent. While it’s obvious from the Q & A session that there’s more that Parker and Lee need to look at (or other scholars need to research and examine), this panel establishes women firmly within the framework of Deaf history and campus history. One thing that could be further explored is the quality of education provided for women during the early years, both in the 1860’s and 1880’s, given the imbalanced double standards in the residential schools. Were female college students expected to perform on par with their male classmates, or did the professors and staff maintain a low standard of expectations in terms of education?  

Aaron Kelstone’s examination of the “Evolution of Deaf Theater” is the final paper for the day– we are still without power, but the natural light has been extremely helpful in maintaining people’s interest!

Kelstone starts by observing that the wooden platform in the front for presenters to stand on reminds him strongly of being in a deaf club, standing on a wooden stage, surrounded in a vague semi-circle by his audience (nods of recognition, chuckles, and applause from the audience).

For Kelstone, Deaf theater is still evolving, and he sees Deaf culture as also evolving. Deaf theater as we know it had its origins long before 1976, but that was the year that Lou Fant and Dorothy Miles co-wrote a paper describing the definition and importance of sign-language theater.

Kelstone now posits: what is Deaf theater? It is the primacy of sign language in a theatrical performance compared with English. Sign-language theater and Deaf Theater are both distinct and inter-related. For theater in general, there are four elements: audience, actors, story, and place.

Gallaudet College/University offered a place, a community and a home where theater could thrive. Particular groups aided in the development of theater at Gallaudet– the Ballard Literary Society, which fostered a love of literature and drama, and O.W.L.S. (the precursor to Phi Kappa Zeta), which also supported theatrical efforts as well. Storytelling is an important contribution by both groups, which eventually led to the formation of a drama club at Gallaudet.

A lot of books, plays, and other adaptable materials were converted into presentable material for the campus audiences, which lead Deaf students to become familiar with the elements and nuances of drama. The school’s drama club was an all-volunteer effort until the 1930’s, with no financial support from the administration for theatrical productions or efforts.

Back then, voice interpreters were called “readers,” and this service was provided merely as a courtesy for hearing friends of the campus community, and not seen as an essential function of the theatrical experience as it is today. This changed in 1942, when Eric Malzkuhn successfully prevailed upon the producers of “Arsenic and Old Lace” to allow Malzkuhn and his fellow thespians to present a fully signed performance of the play on Broadway– this ground-breaking moment took place on 10 May 1942. The all-deaf cast meant that now voice interpreting wasn’t a “courtesy,” but a necessity. This requirement led to the gradual emergence of simultaneous voice interpreting as a key element of the sign-language and deaf theaters, and this is Gallaudet’s contribution to the development of Deaf theater.

Kelstone stated that Deaf theater is part of a continuum, swinging from pure ASL productions to fully integrated bilingual performances. The next stage was the era of NTD and David Hays, who advanced sign language theater. Hays saw sign language as not just communication, but an art form.

In 1961, Anne Bancroft, Arthur Penn, Edna Levine, and David Hays came to Gallaudet to see a production of “Our Town.” Bancroft at the time was starring on Broadway in “The Miracle Worker,” and the quartet’s evening at Gallaudet led them to envision a future that involved the eventual obtainment of a federal grant, which in turn helped inaugurate the National Theatre of the Deaf.

Today, Deaf theater and sign language theater are expanding in new directions. There is the possibility of offering captions for the hearing during ASL plays, a twist on the captions for the deaf, and that the technology of today offers intriguing possibilities for increased multimedia presentations.

Kelstone shifts gears and mention’s Gil Eastman’s production of “Antigone,” which garnered critical acclaim (including a performance at the Kennedy Center) to the point that Eastman felt empowered to write “Sign Me Alice.” Kelstone comments that Eastman is apparently the first Deaf person to chair a theater department anywhere in the United States [a follow-up comment by an audience member following the presentation revealed that Eastman was the first Deaf chair of any academic department at Gallaudet].

A good example of sign language theater, according to Kelstone, is “Children of a Lesser God.” In response to a query by Paddy Ladd following his presentation, Kelstone states that there was an approximately ten-year period during the 1960’s and 1970’s that constituted a “Golden Age” in Deaf theater, with the authorship and subsequent production of such classics as “Sign Me Alice,” Bergman and Bragg’s “Tales of a Clubroom,” and NTD’s “My Third Eye.” Such examples of Deaf theater that focus exclusively on the Deaf experience are unique, and Kelstone promises to do further research in this area.

My Commentary: This was an engrossing paper, and Kelstone is clearly knowledgeable about his topic. His focus on Gallaudet’s role in the creation of NTD and its influences on sign-language theatre and Deaf theater fit in neatly with the conference themes. I’m hoping Kelstone will seize the opportunity to do another paper, or a monograph or book, that explores in fuller detail and history the origins and evolution of theater and theater traditions in the Deaf community.

The next to last speaker of the day is Doris Stelle, who will be expounding upon “The Gallaudet Board of Trustees: Then and Now.” We still have no power, but the day is drawing to a close, and hopefully tomorrow will be error-free!

Stelle starts by noting that she will discuss the Board of Trustees: “It is a hot issue, I have to be careful what I say!” She then opens with a question: why do we have a Board of Trustees at all? She then answers by saying that many organizations have trustees, advisory committees, and other ancillary groups that manage or oversee affairs– this is not unique, by any means.

Another question Stelle poses is, “How do Boards of Trustees (BOT) make decisions that reflect values and societal expectations? What is best for the institution that a BOT advises?”

She begins to attempt to answer this question by reviewing Gallaudet’s history, starting with Amos Kendall. She notes that Kendall was influential to begin with, thanks to his political and social ties in the D.C. of the early to mid-19th century. Additionally, Edward Miner Gallaudet also had considerable power: he did not need to go to the Board to obtain approval for whatever he needed, because he served as both director of the institution as a whole and as the chair of the Board of Trustees.

His successor, Percival Hall, retained the same powers, and it was not until Leonard Elstad became Gallaudet’s third president that the responsibilities and attendant power was finally divided; with Elstad, the president was removed as Board chair, and instead became an ex-officio member, with no voting rights.

Stelle diverges from this linear history to note that the perception that Kendall’s involvement with deafness and deaf education didn’t start with his guardianship of five deaf children in 1857, but instead pre-dated this period. While Kendall was politically aligned with Henry Clay, he was aware of Clay’s work in obtaining appropriations for the American School for the Deaf during Clay’s tenure as Speaker of the House. Additionally, Kendall developed his fortune during his days as Samuel F.B. Morse’s financial manager– Morse’s wife was deaf, so Kendall had had previous exposure to deaf people and deaf-related issues involving education years prior to 1857.

Stelle segues into Drezner’s territory, mentioning that Kendall initially bought his country home for $9,000, and his estate sold it for a six-figure sum [given the current gentrification in the Northeast area, one wonders what the current appraised value of the property is!].

Stelle concludes by noting that Boyce Williams was the first BOT member who was deaf, and that Jane Bassett Spilman was the first female chair of the BOT. Spilman was also responsible for a change in the BOT’s operations: previously, the BOT met for a matter of hours; under Spilman, the BOT began to meet for 2-3 days. Stelle also acknowledged Phil Bravin, Spilman’s successor, as the first deaf chair of the Board.

Today’s board composition requirements are different, with 51% of the board required to be deaf. She also observes that the BOT is not the only group that wields influence; Congress is also in the picture. The present-day BOT has a number of issues to deal with (which was obvious to the audience and to you readers as well!). She then ended her presentation by sharing that her research was facilitated by the Gallaudet Archives for papers older than 50 years, but that everything since then is under the control of the President’s Office, which did not offer complete access to materials.

My Commentary: While Stelle demonstrated an obvious enthusiasm for her subject matter, she failed to completely answer her questions that she posed at the beginning of her presentation. Additionally, some of the material she presented were “factoids,” information already known to a good number of conference attendees. The topic at hand is an extremely timely one, and of great interest to parties both present and absent, but Stelle misses a golden opportunity to fully examine the workings of the Board of Trustees, or to place them within the context of what was happening in D.C. at large, or to completely compare and contrast with other BOTs. However, just like the other panelists today, what Stelle shared is undoubtedly a small portion of her work, and it may be that an opportunity that affords more time or a forum that allows fuller dissemination may offer her audience a better understanding of the administrative workings of the Gallaudet Board of Trustees.

We have reconvened in our 19th century “schoolroom,” and the final set of speakers are ready to go. The last panel today is “Politics at Gallaudet University,” and the presenter is Noah Drezner. Unfortunately, Drezner had a conflict with another conference, and his paper is being delivered by John Van Cleve. Drezner’s presentation is “Building Kendall Green: Alumni Support for Gallaudet.”

Drezner’s paper deals with the history of Gallaudet’s finances since 1857– he leads off by mentioning Amos Kendall’s initial donation of approximately two acres and the houses on the property, and the appropriations from Congress; initial tuition for pupils was assessed at $150 per child. This fee was levied for non-D.C. residents. Thus, even from the start, Congress provided financial backing for the District’s residential school, which then extended to the college Kendall and Gallaudet envisioned.

When Kendall died, the school was able to purchase the remaining acreage of his country estate, and the entire property now belonged to the school. While Congress allocated monies during Gallaudet’s tenure (in spite of running battles with opponents such as Senator Washburne), the total funds declined a bit during Percival Hall’s years as head of the institution. At that point, Hall decided to explore the possibility of getting the alumni and other interested persons to donate to the school. This was keeping in the general state of existence for most schools, who do not receive federal funding. Alumni contributions since have constituted a very small percentage of Gallaudet’s total income. Thus it was imperative for Hall and succeeding administrations to continue to chase federal dollars.

During the Elstad era, Elstad was able to garner an increased percentage from Congress, which helped in maintaining the campus and funding capital improvements on campus, as an expanding student body necessitated the construction of new buildings. At present, federal monies constitute approximately 70% of Gallaudet’s total budget. But prior to and during the Jordan era, the need for additional funds had become acute, which meant that the administration needed to bridge the gap. This is when a new era in fundraising began, and increased attention was given to alumni, among other constituencies.

It didn’t help that the general public perception was that Gallaudet was receiving a huge chunk of its total receipts from the federal government, so therefore there was no real need to contribute to the university and its programs. Additionally, the typical donors for colleges (and a great many other things!) have traditionally been wealthy white hearing men– thus philanthropy was typically a white male dominion. Finally, the potential alumni base was small, and the Deaf community has a relatively small middle class compared with other ethnic and racial groups, and the income level among Deaf people was not as great as it was for other peoples. There also was the fact that a tradition of philanthropy didn’t historically exist within the Deaf population; instead, there was a tradition of charity, and receiving aid, rather than giving support. 

At this point, Drezner breaks away to discuss the Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HCBUs), and draws comparisons between the HCBUs (such as Howard University) and Gallaudet College/University. He concludes his paper by stating that there needs to be further examination (and emulation) of the HCBU’s (and other similar institutions) problems and approaches with fundraising.

My Commentary: While the question of Gallaudet’s relationship with Congress is a ripe one for research and analysis, Drezner’s paper muddles through statistics and widely known facts, and only delves into historical and cultural comparisons near the end, and only vaguely broaches possible solutions. This subject matter is a timely one, and one we should all be concerned with, but most likely it will remain to other scholars to pick up the baton from Drezner. Additionally, his absence meant he was unable to follow up during a Q&A session.