Like the rest of the American West, the mid-Columbia region has always been diverse. Its history mirrors common multiracial narratives, but with important nuances. In the late 1880s, Chinese railroad workers were segregated to East Pasco, a practice that later extended to all non-whites and continued for decades. Kennewick residents became openly proud of their status as a “lily-white” town. In Echoes of Exclusion and Resistance, the third Hanford Histories volume, four scholars--Laura Arata, Robert Bauman, Robert Franklin, and Thomas E. Marceau--draw from Hanford History Project, Atomic Heritage Foundation, and Afro-American Community Cultural and Educational Society oral histories to focus on the experiences of non-white groups whose lives were deeply impacted by the Hanford Site. Linked in ways they likely could not know, each group resisted the segregation and discrimination they encountered, and in the process, challenged the region’s dominant racial norms. The Wanapum, evicted by Hanford Nuclear Reservation construction, relate stories of their people, as well as their responses to dislocation and forced evacuation. Unable to interact with the ancient landscapes and utilize the natural resources of their traditional lands, they suffered painful, irretrievable losses. Early arrivals to the town of Pasco, the Yamauchi family built the American dream--including successful businesses and highly educated children--only to have their aspirations crushed by World War II Japanese-American internment. Thousands of African Americans migrated to the area for wartime jobs and discovered rampant segregation. Through negotiations, demonstrations, and protests, they fought the region’s ingrained racial disparity. During the early years of the Cold War, Black women, mostly from East Texas, also relocated to work at Hanford. They offer a unique perspective on employment, discrimination, family, and faith.

Mid-Columbia region history mirrors common American West multiracial narratives, but with important nuances. In "Echoes of Exclusion and Resistance," the third Hanford Histories volume, four scholars draw from oral histories to focus on the experiences of non-white groups such as the Wanapum, Chinese immigrants, World War II Japanese incarcerees, and African American migrant workers from the South, whose lives were deeply impacted by the Hanford Site. Linked in ways they likely could not know, each group resisted the segregation and discrimination they encountered, and in the process, challenged the region's dominant racial norms.

“There wasn’t that many people, but they were good people.”--Madeline Gilles “First time I ever tasted cherries or even seen a cherry tree was [in White Bluffs]. Or ever ate an apricot or seen an apricot...It was covered with orchards and alfalfa fields.”--Leatris Boehmer Reid Euro-American Priest River Valley settlers turned acres of sagebrush into fruit orchards. Although farm life required hard work and modern conveniences were often spare, many former residents remember idyllic, close-knit communities where neighbors helped neighbors. Then, in 1943, families received forced evacuation notices. “Fruit farmers had to leave their crops on their trees. And that was very hard on them, no future, no money...they moved wherever they could get a place to live,” Catherine Finley recalled. Some were given just thirty days, and Manhattan Project restrictions meant they could not return. Drawn from Hanford History Project personal narratives, Nowhere to Remember highlights life in Hanford, White Bluffs, and Richland--three small agricultural communities in eastern Washington’s mid-Columbia region. It covers their late 1800s to early 1900s origins, settlement and development, the arrival of irrigation, dependence on railroads, Great Depression struggles, and finally, their unique experiences in the early years of World War II. David W. Harvey examines the impact of wagon trade, steamships, and railroads, grounding local history within the context of American West history. Robert Franklin details the tight bonds between early residents as they labored to transform scrubland into an agricultural Eden. Laura Arata considers the early twentieth century experiences of women who lived and worked in the region. Robert Bauman utilizes oral histories to tell forced removal stories. Finally, Bauman and Franklin convey displaced occupants’ reactions to their lost spaces and places of meaning--and explore ways they sought to honor their heritage.

"The Hanford History Project held the "Legacies of the Manhattan Project at 75 Years" conference in March 2017. Professionals from a broad array of backgrounds-working scientists, government employees, retired health physicists, downwinders, representatives from community groups, impassioned lay people, and scholars working in a host of different academic fields-attended and gave presentations. The diverse gathering, with its wide range of expertise, stimulated the remarkable exchange of ideas in this book"--

Mexican Americans/Chicana/os/Chicanx form a majority of the overall Latino population in the United States. In this collection, established and emerging Chicanx researchers diverge from the discipline’s traditional Southwest focus to offer academic and non-academic perspectives specifically on the Pacific Northwest and the Midwest. Their multidisciplinary papers address colonialism, gender, history, immigration, labor, literature, sociology, education, and religion, setting El Movimiento (the Chicanx movement) and the Chicanx experience beyond customary scholarship and illuminating how Chicanxs have challenged racialization, marginalization, and isolation in the northern borderlands. Contributors to We Are Aztlan! include Norma Cardenas (Eastern Washington University), Oscar Rosales Castaneda (activist, writer), Josue Q. Estrada (University of Washington), Theresa Melendez (Michigan State University, emeritus), the late Carlos Maldonado, Rachel Maldonado (Eastern Washington University, retired), Dylan Miner (Michigan State University), Ernesto Todd Mireles (Prescott College), and Dionicio Valdes (Michigan State University). Winner of a CHOICE Outstanding Academic Title.

"Born to T'siyiyak, a champion horse racer, and Com-mus-ni, the daughter of legendary Chief Wlyawllkt, Kamiakin from an early age helped tend his family's expanding herds. He wintered with relatives in tule mat lodges in the Kittitas and Ahtanum valleys. During other times of the year he shared in communal springtime root gathering, summertime salmon fishing, and autumn berry-picking and hunting." "Kamiakin adhered to ancestral tradition. Alone as an adolescent on Mount Rainier's icy heights, he dreamt of the Buffalo's power, completing his quest for a guardian spirit. Muscular and sinewy, he became a skilled equestrian and competitor in feats of agility. He married and established a camp on Ahtanum Creek, raising potatoes, squash, pumpkins, and corn in irrigated gardens." "As Kamiakin matured, he rose in prominence among the Yakamas; leaders of both Sahaptin and Salish bands sought his counsel. Through personal aptitude as well as family bonds, he emerged as one of the Plateau region's most influential chiefs. He cautiously welcomed White newcomers and sought to learn beneficial aspects of their culture. His dignified manner impressed the Whites he knew - traders, missionaries, and soldiers." "In the 1840s, the arrival of unprecedented numbers of Oregon Trail immigrants stirred a cataclysmic upheaval threatening his people's retention of lands and their ancient customs. On May 29, 1855, the Walla Walla Treaty Council commenced with a gathering of government officials and Plateau headmen, while some 5,000 Indians camped nearby. Two weeks later, Kamiakin signed the Yakima Treaty of 1855 with great reluctance; he also resolved to resist threats to his people's freedom and transgressions on their lifeways. Finding Chief Kamiakin is his saga."--BOOK JACKET.

Sporting Blackness examines issues of race and representation in sports films, exploring what it means to embody, perform, play out, and contest blackness by representations of Black athletes on screen. By presenting new critical terms, Sheppard analyzes not only “skin in the game,” or how racial representation shapes the genre’s imagery, but also “skin in the genre,” or the formal consequences of blackness on the sport film genre’s modes, codes, and conventions. Through a rich interdisciplinary approach, Sheppard argues that representations of Black sporting bodies contain “critical muscle memories”: embodied, kinesthetic, and cinematic histories that go beyond a film’s plot to index, circulate, and reproduce broader narratives about Black sporting and non-sporting experiences in American society.

President Lyndon B. Johnson’s War on Poverty did more than offer aid to needy Americans; in some cities, it also sparked both racial conflict and cooperation. Race and the War on Poverty examines the African American and Mexican American community organizations in Los Angeles that emerged to implement War on Poverty programs. It explores how organizers applied democratic vision and political savvy to community action, and how the ongoing African American, Chicano, and feminist movements in turn shaped the contours of the War on Poverty’s goals, programs, and cultural identity. Robert Bauman describes how the Watts riots of 1965 accelerated the creation of a black community-controlled agency, the Watts Labor Community Action Committee. The example of the WLCAC, combined with a burgeoning Chicano movement, inspired Mexican Americans to create The East Los Angeles Community Union (TELACU) and the Chicana Service Action Center. Bauman explores the connections that wove together the War on Poverty, the Watts revolt, and local movements in ways that empowered the participants economically, culturally, and politically. Although heated battles over race and other cultural issues sometimes derailed the programs, these organizations produced lasting positive effects for the communities they touched. Despite Nixon-era budget cuts and the nation’s turn toward conservatism, the War on Poverty continues to be fought today as these agencies embrace the changing politics, economics, and demographics of Los Angeles. Race and the War on Poverty shows how the struggle to end poverty evolved in ways that would have surprised its planners, supporters, and detractors—and that what began as a grand vision at the national level continues to thrive on the streets of the community.

Perhaps the first environmental engineer at Hanford, Melvin R. Adams spent 24 years on its 586 square miles of desert terrain. His thoughtful vignettes recall challenges and sites he worked on or found personally intriguing--like the 216-U-pond, contaminated with plutonium longer than any place on earth. In what Adams considers his most successful project, he helped determine the initial scope of the soil and solid waste cleanup. His group also designed and tested a marked, maintenance-free disposal barrier, expanded a network of groundwater monitoring wells, and developed a pilot scale pump and treatment plant. Adams shares his perspective on leaking high-level waste storage tanks, dosimeters, and Hanford¿s obsession with safety. He even answers his least favorite question, insisting he does not glow in the dark. He leaves that unique ability to spent fuel rods in water storage basins--a phenomenon known as Cherenkov radiation.

Prior to the 1960s, when African Americans had little access to formal political power, black popular culture was commonly seen as a means of forging community and effecting political change. But as Richard Iton shows, despite the changes politics, black artists have continued to play a significant role in the making of critical social spaces.