An illustrated collection of folk songs from the industrial revolution.

This is a book of ghost stories, and for the most part, ghosts are jealous monsters, intent upon our destruction. They never appear overtly here, yet we gradually become aware of their presence the way spirits in haunted houses trod over creaky floors, slam doors, and issue sudden gusts of wind. The poems are Koan-like—the fewer the words, the more charged they are. The engine driving this sense of haunting and loss is money, which Davis describes as “federal bone” boiling around us. Bison in Nebraska are reduced to bones, “seven/standing men/tall” fodder for the fertilizer used by farmers in the 1800s. Though they often specify dates, there’s an equality to the hauntings—every instance has its moment, and persists, despite being in the past, present, or future. If there really was a 1980 or 1848 or 1499, Davis implies it is somewhere. Index of Haunted Houses is spooky and sad—a stunning debut, one that will surprise, convince, and most of all, delight.

On May 10, 1869, the final spike in North America's first transcontinental railroad was driven home at Promontory Summit, Utah. Illustrated with the author's carefully researched, evocative paintings, here is a great adventure story in the history of the American West--the day Charles Crocker staked $10,000 on the crews' ability to lay a world record ten miles of track in a single, Ten Mile Day.

Gandy Dancing begins one of the more remarkable sagas of the last fifty years, the story of Malcolm Ward and his betrayal into the feared and violent world of the 1950's Insane Asylum when Thorozine was only an experiment and attendants routinely walked in pairs and laced up hobnail boots. Whoever would have thought One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest was really the lighthearted version. Written by a man who was there and who still survived.

The deeply personal story of a friendship between two teammates, and of a human bond which ultimately transcends the game itself. As back-to-back No. 1 draft picks for the New York Yankees, Ron Blomberg and Thurman Munson made for an odd couple. One was a good-looking, gregarious kid from Atlanta who cheerfully talked anyone's ear off at the slightest provocation; the other was a dumpy, grumpy dude from the Midwest rust belt who was about as fond of making idle chit-chat as he was of shaving. Despite the surface differences, the two men would form a close attachment as they ignited a youth movement with the 1970s Yankees. Now, over 40 years after Munson's shocking death in a plane crash at age 32, Blomberg opens up to author Dan Epstein about the beloved Yankees captain in an extraordinary memoir that reaches far beyond baseball.? By turns hilarious and heartbreaking, The Captain & Me shares tales of clubhouse hijinks during the infamous Bronx Zoo era, adventures on the road, and even rubbing shoulders with mobsters. Blomberg also offers a fascinating glimpse into baseball history, including the first-ever strike and lockout, the escalation of the Yankees–Red Sox rivalry, and the start of full-scale free agency. This illuminating remembrance of Munson is filled with untold stories about his analytical-yet-hard-nosed approach to baseball, as well as his kindness and generosity off the field.

From 1989 to 1991, Barry Dornfeld had an unusual double role on the crew of the major PBS documentary series Childhood. As a researcher for the series, he investigated the relationship between children and media. As an anthropologist, however, his subject was the television production process itself--examining, for example, how producers developed the series, negotiated with their academic advisors, and shaped footage shot around the world into seven programs. He presents the results of his fieldwork in this groundbreaking study--one of the first to take an ethnographic approach to the production of a television show, as opposed to its reception. Dornfeld begins with a broad discussion of public television's role in American culture and goes on to examine documentaries as a form of popular anthropology. Drawing on his observations of Childhood, he considers the documentary form as a kind of "imagining," in which both producers and viewers construct understandings of themselves and others, revealing their conceptions of culture and history and their ideologies of cultural difference and universality. He argues that producers of culture should also be understood as consumers who conduct their work through an active envisioning of the audience. Dornfeld explores as well how intellectual media professionals struggle with the institutional and cultural forces surrounding television that promote entertainment at the expense of education. The book provides a rare glimpse behind the scenes of a major documentary and demonstrates the value of an ethnographic approach to the study of media production.

City blue laws drove the liquor trade and its customers—hard-drinking lumberjacks, pensioners, farmhands, and railroad workers—into the oldest quarter of Minneapolis. In the fifty-cent-a-night flophouses of the city’s Gateway District, they slept in cubicles with ceilings of chicken wire. In rescue missions, preachers and nuns tried to save their souls. Sociology researchers posing as vagrants studied them. And in their midst John Bacich, aka Johnny Rex, who owned a bar, a liquor store, and a cage hotel, documented the gritty neighborhood’s last days through photographs and film of his clientele. The King of Skid Row follows Johnny Rex into this vanished world that once thrived in the heart of Minneapolis. Drawing on hours of interviews conducted in the three years before Bacich’s death in 2012, James Eli Shiffer brings to life the eccentric characters and strange events of an American skid row. Supplemented with archival and newspaper research and his own photographs, Bacich’s stories re-create the violent, alcohol-soaked history of a city best known for its clean, progressive self-image. His life captures the seamy, richly colorful side of the city swept away by a massive urban renewal project in the early 1960s and gives us, in a glimpse of those bygone days, one of Minneapolis’s most intriguing figures—spinning some of its most enduring and enthralling tales.

A revision of the classic text on railroad engineering, considered the ``bible'' of the field for three decades. Presents railroad engineering principles quantitatively but without excessive resort to mathematics, and applies these principles to day-by-day design, construction, operation, and maintenance. Relates practice to principles in an orderly, sequential pattern (subgrade, ballast, ties, rails). Applicable to both conventional railroads and rapid transit systems.

This is an extensive work on international folk dancing as practiced in the United States. It tells how to do the hopak, czardas and the bamboo pole dance; plan an international folk dance program; do the little finger hold and the hambo swing. International Folk Dancing U.S.A. presents historical vignettes on pioneer folk dance leaders; instructions for 180 dances from 30 countries; contributions from 60 folk dance authorities; easy-to-follow dance step descriptions; a Glossary of folk dance terms; many helpful illustrations.

While president of Aetna Life from 1879 to 1922, Morgan Bulkeley served four terms as mayor of Hartford, two terms as Connecticut’s governor, and one term as a United States senator. His friends and business and political acquaintances were a who’s who of the Gilded Age: Samuel Clemens, J. P. Morgan, Samuel and Elizabeth Colt, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Leland Stanford, Charles Crocker, Albert Spalding, General Sherman, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Katherine Hepburn, as well as every president from Ulysses Grant to Warren Harding. In 1874 Bulkeley formed the Hartford Dark Blues who soon joined the unruly National Association, antecedent of the National League. He served as the league’s first president for a year, and was later elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. It was during Bulkeley’s controversial “holdover” term as governor that he earned the nickname “Crowbar Governor.” He used a crowbar to remove a lock that had been placed on his office door after refusing to vacate the governor’s chambers on a technicality. Written in classic storyteller fashion, and augmented by copious research, Crowbar Governor offers readers a privileged glimpse into life and politics in Connecticut during the Gilded Age. Ebook Edition Note: Eight images from the Connecticut Historical Society have been redacted.