Spicewood AN-53 - History

Spicewood AN-53 - History

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(AN-53: dp. 1,275 (tl.); 1. 194'6Y2~, b. 34'7; dr. 18'8Yz"; s. 12.1 k. (tl.); cpl. 56; a. 1 3"; cl. Ailanthus)

Spiecewood was laid down as YN-72 on 25 May 1943 at Stockton, Calif., by the Pollock-Stockton Shipbuilding Co.; redesignated AN-53 on 20 January 1944; launched on 6 December 1943, and commissioned on 7 April 1944, Lt. Comdr. Max A. Morrison, USNR, in command.

The net layer completed shakedown training and post-shakedown availability by 19 June and towed YO-92 from San Pedro to Hawaii, arriving at Pearl Harbor on the 29th. There she was assigned to the 14th Naval District and relieved the Coast Guard tug Balsam (WAGL-62) at the Phoenix Islands, located east of the Gilbert and Ellice groups. Spicewood remained in that group of small atolls until late in the year She returned to Pearl Harbor on 4 December. On 14 February 1945, she sailed for Eniwetok, Ulithi, and Leyte. By mid-April, she was at Okinawa as an element of Task Force 51. There she operated with Task Group 52.8, the Net and Buoy Group, at Kerama Retto. Hostilities ceased in the western Pacific on 15 August, but Spicewood remained at Okinawa until late October. She headed for Pearl Harbor on the 29th and reached her destination on 17 November. After a week at Oahu, she continued east and made San Diego on 4 December. She sailed from there to San Pedro between 6 and 7 December and was decommissioned on 20 February 1946. Her name was struck from the Navy list on 12 March 1946, and her hulk was sold on 18 April 1947 to the Van Camp Seafood Co., Terminal Island, Calif.

Spicewood (AN-53) earned one battle star during World War II.

یواس‌اس اسپایس‌وود (ای‌ان-۵۳)

یواس‌اس اسپایس‌وود (ای‌ان-۵۳) (به انگلیسی: USS Spicewood (AN-53) ) یک کشتی است که طول آن 194' 6" می‌باشد. این کشتی در سال ۱۹۴۳ ساخته شد.

یواس‌اس اسپایس‌وود (ای‌ان-۵۳)
آغاز کار: ۶ دسامبر ۱۹۴۳
مشخصات اصلی
وزن: 1,460 tons
درازا: 194' 6"
پهنا: 34' 7"
آبخور: 11' 8"
سرعت: 12.1 knots

این یک مقالهٔ خرد کشتی یا قایق است. می‌توانید با گسترش آن به ویکی‌پدیا کمک کنید.

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Tracking the Rolex Daytona: A 55-Year History

In this feature-length article from the WatchTime archives, we take a look at the 55-plus-year history of the Rolex Cosmograph Daytona, the brand’s iconic chronograph watch.

For most of Rolex’s history, chronographs took a back seat to three-handed models. The company did produce some chronographs, but equipped them with third-party calibers that ticked in conventional, classic cases, not its well-known Oyster case. Rolex introduced its first Oyster-cased chronograph during WWII, but it was anything but a hit.

In 1955, Rolex launched its Reference 6234 chronograph. Neither “Cosmograph” nor “Daytona” appeared on the dial the watch was simply labeled “Chronograph.” Rolex made about 500 of these watches each year until 1961, when the reference was discontinued. The watch sold for about $200 in the early 1960s. This model wasn’t very successful, either: it and other early Rolex chronographs often languished on dealers’ shelves because other manufacturers had long since established themselves as chronograph specialists. Nowadays these so-called “Pre-Daytonas” are rare and desirable: $20,000 is merely the entry-level price for one of these hard-to-find models with a silver or black dial and stainless-steel case.

The first automobile races were organized on the beach at Daytona, Fla., in 1902. Many new speed records were set in the following years. Sir Malcolm Campbell of Great Britain was among the most successful racecar drivers on the stretch: he wore Rolex watches both on and off the racetrack in the 1930s, when he held the world land speed record. Campbell wrote a thank-you letter to Rolex in 1931, telling the company he was very impressed by his Oyster’s durability.

The newer route of the Daytona racecourse, which formed an elongated oval with a slight bend in it, ran partly across the beach and partly along the oceanfront roadway. It wasn’t until 1959 that the race was run solely on asphalt: namely, at the newly opened Daytona International Speedway.

Rolex first served as Daytona’s official timekeeper in 1962, one year prior to the debut of the Cosmograph Reference 6239. Rolex nicknamed this model “Daytona” the same year to emphasize the watch’s affiliation with the prestigious auto race. This timepiece was conceived expressly for racecar drivers, which explains why the tachymeter scale on the bezel is significantly larger than its counterparts on most other watches.

Reference 6239 attracted a celebrity devotee in the late 1960s. Paul Newman wasn’t just an actor: he was also an outstandingly successful racecar driver. In his heyday, he even had his own racing stable. His Daytona watch accompanied him on his races. In the 1980s, collectors gave the nickname “Paul Newman” to this style of Daytona, which can be recognized chiefly by the contrastingly colored seconds scale along the dial’s periphery.

Paul Newman Daytonas can change hands at auctions for as much as $100,000. But there are obvious differ- ences between them. The original Paul Newman watch had a white dial with black elapsed-time counters and large, easy-to-read numerals in art deco style.

The other dial variation, which has small and simple numerals in the subdials, can be bought for prices ranging from $20,000 to $30,000. The increase in value is immense: these watches sold at auctions in the late 1980s for the equivalent of $3,000 to $4,000. That means their price has increased nearly tenfold since then.

If you’re thinking about buying a Paul Newman Daytona, be careful. It’s relatively simple for a crook to convert a standard Daytona into a “Paul Newman”: experts believe that more counterfeit Newman dials are in circulation than genuine ones. And some seemingly complete watches aren’t entirely original, i.e., they’ve been cobbled together from various individual components.

All classic, hand-wound Daytonas contained the Valjoux Caliber 72 in one of its variations. Rolex comprehensively reworked this caliber, equipping it, for example, with the brand’s own shock-absorption device. This caliber was produced in large series, which makes counterfeiters’ lives easier: they can find it inside diverse no-name chronographs, which they can buy for a few hundred dollars. (But there’s an advantage to a caliber that was produced in large series: spare parts for the movement are relatively easy to find.) The differences among the several caliber variations are apparent only under close scrutiny. Watches purporting to be Daytona models should therefore be purchased only from reputable auction houses or dealers. You can also send the watch to Rolex, where the company’s experts can substantiate its authenticity or unmask it as a fake.

Rolex switched to screw-in push buttons with the debut of Reference 6240 in 1965. These seal the watch’s case nearly as hermetically as the Oyster models without a stopwatch function. The bezel of Reference 6240 was black with an acrylic inlay. Reference 6262, which was manufactured in one year only, 1970, and is therefore extremely rare, marked Rolex’s return to an engraved steel bezel and to unthreaded push buttons. The movement was also modified: Rolex raised the frequency of the Valjoux caliber from 18,000 to 21,600 vph.

This movement was used in Reference 6264 from 1970 to 1972. Unlike the 6262, Reference 6264 had a bezel with an acrylic inlay and screw-in push buttons. The last references with hand-wound movements were 6263 and 6265, which were produced from 1971 to 1988. The first of these is especially valuable: Christie’s auctioned off one of these watches in 2013 for nearly 1 million Swiss francs, a record-breaking price.

In 1988, mechanical watches seemed like quaint relics from a bygone era because quartz technology had long since superseded them. That year, Rolex decided to introduce a self-winding Daytona. Rolex used Zenith’s El Primero movement, which had been introduced in 1969. Rolex made major changes to the El Primero, including slowing its frequency from 36,000 to 28,800 vph. This resulted in a longer power reserve and longer service intervals. Rolex renamed the movement the 4030.

Demand for sporty chronographs took off at this time. Waits of up to three years were not unusual for would-be Daytona buyers. Rolex continued to offer the models in all steel and all yellow gold, which were later joined by steel- and-gold and white- and rose-gold variations. With prices starting at about $6,000, steel-and-gold models from the late 1980s and afterwards are now the least costly Daytonas on the used-watch market. All-steel models in good condition are somewhat more expensive: their prices start at around $7,000. Here, too, caution is in order. Accompanying papers and an original box increase the watch’s value, but cannot guarantee its genuineness because these accessories, too, are often skillfully counterfeited.

In 2000, Rolex launched the first Daytona with an in-house movement. Caliber 4130, still used in today’s Daytonas, has 44 jewels, a 72-hour power reserve, and Kif shock absorbers for its balance and escape wheel. Vertical coupling assures a smooth start for the elapsed-seconds hand. The new movement, like the El Primero it replaced, has column-wheel switching.

The change in calibers is visible on the dial, where the running seconds subdial has been shifted from 9 o’clock to 6 o’clock and the centers of the elapsed-minutes and running seconds subdials are now positioned slightly north of the dial’s equator.

The 4130 has had Rolex’s in-house blue Parachrom hairspring for the past decade. Prices for the watch are high – used models in steel can cost nearly as much as brand new ones ($12,000). Rolex introduced a platinum version with a brown ceramic bezel ($75,000) to the lineup in 2013 to commemorate the Daytona’s 50th birthday, and in 2016 began offering a version with a bezel made of cerachrom, the company’s proprietary high-tech material. The longevity of the Daytona is what distinguishes it as a true classic.

The contract to build Hawes was awarded to Bath Iron Works, Bath, Maine, 22 May 1981, and her keel was laid 26 August 1983. She was launched 18 February 1984 sponsored by Mrs. Ruth H. Watson, widow of the late Rear Adm. Hawes delivered 1 February 1985, and commissioned 9 February 1985, Commander Thomas F. Madden in command. [1]

On 12 October 2000, Hawes was involved, along with Donald Cook, in providing repair and logistics support to Cole, shortly after she was attacked in Aden, Yemen. Two al-Qaeda terrorists brought an inflatable Zodiac-type speedboat that carried a bomb alongside guided missile destroyer Cole, while the ship refueled, and detonated their lethal cargo, killing 17 sailors and wounding 42 more. The crewmember's heroic damage control efforts saved Cole. Hawes, Cmdr. J. Scott Jones in command, joined (13 October–19 November) other ships that took part in Operation Determined Response to assist Cole including: amphibious assault ship Tarawa dock landing ship Anchorage amphibious transport dock Duluth guided missile destroyer Donald Cook and the Military Sealift Command-operated tug Catawba along with British frigates Cumberland and Marlborough. The Navy subsequently enhanced global force protection training during crucial transits, and sailors qualified to fire M60 and Browning .50 caliber M2 machine guns to defend against assaults by low-slow flying aircraft and small boats. [1]

Hawes, with Helicopter Antisubmarine Squadron (Light) HSL-48 Detachment 10 embarked, returned from a counter-narcotics deployment to the Caribbean and Western Atlantic to Naval Station Norfolk, Virginia, on 7 October 2009. The ship's operations resulted in the seizure of 200 barrels of cocaine. [1]

In July 2010, Hawes docked for five days at Pier 4 of the Charlestown Navy Yard, participating in a Navy Week coordinated alongside Boston's Harborfest. [2]

Hawes, operating with Destroyer Squadron 26 out of Norfolk, was decommissioned on 10 December 2010. She is moored, pending disposal, at the Naval Sea Systems Command (NavSea) Inactive Ships On-Site Maintenance Office, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. [1]


The Pedernales Volunteer Fire Department and Pedernales Emergency Medical Services were originally established in 1974 as individual, private non-profit corporations. The departments originally covered an area of 55 square miles with a population of approximately 400 residents.

At that time, both departments were funded totally by resident donations and Auxiliary fund raising activities. Both were managed by independent Boards of Directors.

As the area grew and demands for service increased, the departments realized that they could no longer operate with budgets funded by donations alone and that additional funding was required. In 1986, both departments were instrumental in the creation of Travis County Rural Fire Prevention District 12. This allowed District 12 to assess an Ad-Valorem property tax and each department contracted with the District 12 Board of Commissioners to provide fire and EMS services.

In 1995 an agreement was reached to merge Pedernales Volunteer Fire Department and Pedernales Emergency Medical Services into one corporation with the name of Pedernales Emergency Services. Shortly thereafter, the new organization was instrumental in a conversion from a Rural Fire Prevention District to an Emergency Service District, allowing the District to increase the maximum tax rate. In 2009, the name was again changed to Pedernales Fire Department, which was funded by Travis County Emergency Services District 8.

Travis County Emergency Services District No. 8 is a local government, much like a school district or a municipal utility district. It is responsible for providing fire protection and emergency medical first-response for our citizens. Travis County ESD No. 8 provides tax dollars for the Pedernales Fire Department. To pay for that,the ESD levies a ten-cent-per $100 ad valorem tax rate. That is the maximum allowed by the State Constitution.

ESD 8 was created by the Texas Legislature and is an adjunct of state government. As such, it is an independent government agency. The Board of ESD 8 is comprised of five commissioners who are volunteers appointed by the Travis County Commissioner for Precinct 3, currently Gerald Daugherty.

ESD 8 is one of 14 Emergency Services Districts in Travis County, and serves fifty-five square miles in the southwestern sector of Travis County. It is the duty of the ESD to levy property taxes in this area to pay for fire and emergency medical services within its boundaries. ESD 8 also collects a portion of the sales tax to support its mission which includes delivering fire and emergency medical services. Due to the rugged topography of the area Lake Travis, and the high influx of recreational visitors, there is a constant demand for these services.

We serve our community with twenty-three full time firefighters, volunteers, one Fire Chief, three Battalion Chiefs, and a Business Manager.

Currently, the Pedernales Fire Department operates out of one headquarters station and two additional stations. Two stations are staffed twenty four hours per day with the third station staffed twelve hours per day. Other facilities include a smoke house training building, a two story roof ventilation prop, and vehicle fire and extrication props. The department’s fleet consists of three Engines, four Brush Trucks, two Tenders, two Command cars, two Jet Ski’s, and one Fire / Rescue Boat.

The Pedernales Fire Department provides a variety of services including fire suppression, EMS first response, wilderness rescue, high angle rescue, water rescue, and marine fire suppression. Some our public education activities include Public Safety discussions, CPR, and First Aid training. The Travis County Fire Marshal’s Office provides code enforcement, investigations, and plan reviews.

Masses are celebrated at Queen of Angels Chapel on: Sundays at 10:00 AM Thursdays at 9:30 AM

Queen of Angels Chapel
20600 Siesta Shores Drive
Spicewood, TX 78669

Phone: (512) 261-8500
Fax: (512) 261-8200
Email: [email protected]
Parish Office: 1718 Lohmans Crossing Road, Lakeway, TX 78734 [DETAILS]

Parish Registration: To register with the parish, schedule sacraments, register for classes, and conduct any parish business, please call the Emmaus Parish Office, (512) 261-8500.

Volunteering at Queen of Angels: All volunteers must have Ethics & Integrity in Ministry Training. Please visit the EIM page of this website so learn about this class - click here. You can complete a QOA Volunteer Interest form by clicking here. Someone will be in touch with you. Thank you!

St. Vincent de Paul Society: Society meetings are held after Mass on the second and fourth Sundays of each month. To volunteer, call (512) 576-1744.

Praying the Rosary: The Rosary is prayed at 9:15 AM before Sunday Mass.

Altar Flowers and Mass Dedications: To order altar flowers or to dedicate Masses, call the Emmaus Parish Office, (512) 261-8500.

Hospitality Time: Sign up in the Queen of Angels Chapel kitchen area to help host Hospitality Time after a Sunday Mass. Take a turn to help us continue this fellowship.

Healing Prayer: An after-Mass blessing and "Prayer for Healing" is usually held the first Sunday of each month.

Outreach Opportunities: If you know someone who is struggling and could use our support, or would like to receive Holy Communion in their home, please call the Emmaus Parish Office, (512) 261-8500.

Lector Guidelines for Queen of Angels Chapel - Click Here

Disclaimer : All of the external links provided by Emmaus Catholic Parish are offered as a service and only for informational purposes. They do not constitute an endorsement or an approval by Emmaus Catholic Parish of any of the products, services, or opinions of the company or person. Emmaus Catholic Parish has no responsibility for the accuracy, legality, or content of the external site or provided links. Please contact the external site for answers to questions about its content.

Spicewood AN-53 - History

(A copyrighted publication of West Virginia Archives and History)

By Ronald L. Lewis

Volume 53 (1994), pp. 1-6

In this issue, West Virginia History focuses on Scotts Run, America's symbol of the Great Depression in the coalfields and a major philanthropic concern of First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt. As a case study, the rise and fall of King Coal in this Monongalia County hollow condenses the life cycle of coal communities from birth to death as well as the perennial booms and busts which convulse this industry. Scotts Run's history is a reminder that the unrestrained capitalist development of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries led to explosive growth but also to unrelenting human misery.

Coal companies and speculators began to accumulate mineral rights on Scotts Run in the late nineteenth century, but the transition from agricultural to industrial economy did not make any significant headway until World War I stimulated the demand for coal to fuel the national war machine. Monongalia County produced a mere 57,000 tons of coal in 1899 and only 400,000 tons in 1914, but by 1921, tonnage soared to nearly 4.4 million. Most of this expansion is attributable to the development of Scotts Run where, during its peak in the mid-1920s, coal companies owned 75 percent of the taxable acres, and between thirty-six and forty-two mines were shipping coal.

As in southern West Virginia, development of the coalfields required more workers than available in the local labor market, forcing companies to rely on imported immigrants and blacks. In fact, one of the distinguishing characteristics of the population of Scotts Run during the boom years was its diverse composition. An exact calculation of the population is not possible because the Run is a geographical rather than a political subdivision of Cass District, and the census does not always indicate the exact location of residents. Also, the decennial census for 1920 and 1930 did not record the surge in population, which peaked at about four thousand during the 1920s. That does not tell the whole story, however, as the number of workers who commuted to jobs at Scotts Run mines remains unknown, but it represented a significant proportion of the work force.

As in other West Virginia coalfields, the importation of workers produced a racially and ethnically diverse population. The 1920 manuscript census identified the following foreign-born nationalities among the adult (voting age) residents of Scotts Run: Austrian, Bohemian, Canadian, Croatian, English, Finnish, Greek, Hungarian, Italian, Irish, Lithuanian, Polish, Rumanian, Russian, Scottish, Serbian, Slovak, Ukrainian, and Welsh. Ninety-three percent of these immigrants were from southern or eastern Europe, and approximately 60 percent of Scotts Run's population was foreign born, with native whites and blacks divided about equally for the remaining 40 percent.

The coal boom beginning during World War I and continuing into the early 1920s was the first and last high mark for the industry on Scotts Run. By the late 1920s, coal entered the downward spiral which ultimately led to the depopulation of the hollow. During the economic collapse of the 1930s, Scotts Run became America's symbol of the Depression in the coalfields, setting the standard measurement for human suffering among miners. A writer for the Atlantic Monthly declared that Scotts Run was "the damndest cesspool of human misery I have ever seen in America." To what degree life was worse here than in other coal hollows is difficult to determine, but there was plenty of misery to go around. Scotts Run received so much attention because it was far more accessible to the outside photographers, reporters, social workers, and government officials who aimed the media spotlight into this particular corner of the coalfields.

This begs the question of just how "isolated" Scotts Run actually was in the 1920s and 1930s, a perspective closely associated to the Run's public identity. It should be noted that the Run was easily accessible by bus, auto, trolley, or train durng this period, and it was only a few miles from the county seat of Morgantown. The commercial center of the county, Morgantown itself was linked to national transportation centers. Even though outside observers usually portrayed Scotts Run as "isolated," its spatial relationship to the rest of the world is more accurately understood as "stranded," a term most frequently employed by professional workers to describe conditions there. Most of the people were trapped not by geography but by the lack of resources, employment options, and by their culture -- many could not speak English and had customs which imposed a social distance between them and native-born residents. A significant percentage were African Americans, and racism must be added to culture as an explanation of the "stranded" condition of the people.

Undoubtedly, the personal attention of First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt did more than anything else to focus national attention on Scotts Run. In 1933, early in her husband's first term, Roosevelt toured the mine camps of Scotts Run and elsewhere in the county. She returned several times during the 1930s to commiserate with residents and developed long-lasting relationships with both residents and social workers on Scotts Run. Even before she threw her considerable influence into the struggle to improve living conditions on the Run, others had long been busy in that same enterprise. The Coal Relief campaign of the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC) already was on the scene when the first lady called Clarence E. Pickett, Executive Secretary of the AFSC, about inspecting conditions in the coalfields firsthand. Pickett and Alice O. Davis, Director of the Morgantown District, met with Roosevelt and helped to establish the itinerary which brought her to Monongalia County and Scotts Run. With her came the inevitable corps of newspaper reporters, soon followed by some of America's most famous photographers, such as Walker Evans (who spent months on Scotts Run), Marion Post Wolcott, and Ben Shahn (subsequently a famous painter and sculptor).

Their images captured the human face of poverty which heightened the nation's consciousness about Scotts Run, making it much easier for social workers to justify their work and to raise scarce resources for the relief effort.

The AFSC and various federal relief agencies brought a strong presence to Scotts Run, but it would be a mistake to interpret the appearance of these national organizations as the first demonstrations of interest in the miners' plight. In fact, local agencies, particularly the Council of Social Agencies and the County Welfare Board, had struggled for years to improve the human conditions on Scotts Run. The burden proved too great for local agencies alone, and Monongalia County was virtually bankrupt.

The earliest relief efforts drew their inspiration from the Bible School Movement and the Settlement House Movement. The Bible School Movement depended on trained lay workers and volunteers to teach the principles of Christianity to the "religiously needy" but gave primary attention to the children. Most of the workers were young women who followed this avenue to leadership roles unavailable to them within the conventional structure of the church. Young women also played a major role in the Settlement House Movement, the best known example being Jane Addams's Hull House in Chicago. Settlement houses attempted to assist in the "Americanization" of newly arrived immigrant workers independently of mainstream charities by promoting English literacy, citizenship, hygiene, and other basic social and life skills.

The goals of both movements converged on Scotts Run during the 1920s when Methodist and Presbyterian churches in Morgantown undertook to deliver assistance to the mining families on the Run. The Scotts Run Settlement House began in 1922, when the Woman's Home Missionary Society of Wesley Methodist Church established a Bible school for children under the direction of Deaconess Edna L. Muir and Mrs. Frank Shriver. In addition to Bible school and Sunday school, the Settlement House gradually expanded its programs to include classes on naturalization, cooking, motherhood, and other life skills. A permanent building for the Settlement House in Osage was competed in 1927 and continues to this day to offer community assistance to those in need.

Morgantown's First Presbyterian Church also sent a Christian worker, Mary Behner, to establish its own missionary project on Scotts Run. She began her work at Pursglove in 1928, almost exactly one year after the Methodist Settlement House was completed. Programs similar to those at the Settlement House were initiated in a local school, but in 1931, a mine building was converted into a community center for Behners work. Local residents called it "The Shack" and the name stuck.

In 1938, the Reverend Frank Trubee, the first ordained Presbyterian missionary to be stationed on Scotts Run, became director of The Shack. He built a new and larger Shack and readily adopted the methods and philosophical approach of the AFSC in developing local leadership and promoting rehabilitation through cooperative exchanges of labor and goods. The unemployed needed no cash to participate in the Scotts Run Reciprocal Economy, The Shack's co-op. Most residents could not practice

supplemental farming or extensive gardening as they did elsewhere in the coalfields because acrid fumes from the smoldering "gob" piles killed all vegetation in the hollow, and congestion from overdevelopment precluded other uses of the land. However, through the co-op, they exchanged their labor for produce raised in cooperative gardens which were planted on the hilltops or for reconditioned clothing from the recycled clothing shop. Now in its third building, The Shack, like the Settlement House, has adapted to modern problems and continues to serve people who are in need.

The residents of Scotts Run survived the Great Depression through such imaginative coping strategies, but the 1930s marks the beginning of a long slide into historical obscurity for this once teeming hollow. A number of explanations account for Scotts Run's short life and long, slow demise. The Great Depression, of course, was a national calamity, and Scotts Run residents probably suffered more than most Americans from the maladies of unemployment, ignorance, ethnic and racial prejudice, and the other corollaries of abject poverty. Many left the area in search of a better life, and a number of families were chosen for the new resettlement community of Arthurdale in neighboring Preston County. Spearheaded by Eleanor Roosevelt, Arthurdale was the first of over one hundred experimental communities established by the federal Rural Resettlement Commission to relocate redundant industrial workers into the countryside. As elsewhere in rural America, World War II took many of the young men from Scotts Run, and most of them did not return after the war.

Technological change also played a role in the decline of Scotts Run. The development of diesel engines for locomotives eliminated one major market for Scotts Run's famous steam coal, and competition from other sources of energy also helped to insure that most of these mines would not be reopened. In the face of changes in the markets, the entire industry began a long process of restructuring. By the 1950s, the numerous coal tracts on the Run had been consolidated into a few large parcels, most notably those controlled by Consolidation Coal Company. Mechanization of the mines took a heavy toll on the labor force everywhere, and Scotts Run was no exception. With little chance of employment, miners and their families moved on, the exodus facilitated by the construction of better roads, and with widespread automobile ownership after World War II, workers no longer needed to live next to their place of employment. Finally, the construction of Interstate 79, which was opened in Monongalia County in 1974, wrapped around the once crowded Connellsville Hill, eliminating the remaining company housing before dissecting Scotts Run above Pursglove.

Not much physical evidence remains of Scotts Run's former prominence as a coal-producing community. Nevertheless, for West Virginia historians it provides an excellent mirror of the larger processes which transformed the state's economic forces and have been restructuring the coal industry since the 1950s. Scotts Run also helps illuminate many of the dark corners of the state's history. As a field of research, for example, women's history in West Virginia is in its infancy even after two decades of maturity nationally. Similarly, the history of immigrants and African Americans in the

Mountain State is still rudimentary, granting a few exceptional studies. The New Deal is a cottage industry in the historical discipline, but there is no single study of the period in West Virginia. Other subjects, such as health care and local versus absentee ownership, also are important but neglected state topics reflected in the history of Scotts Run. Intensive local studies should be encouraged throughout the state and, when taken cumulatively, could provide a basis for a much needed statewide synthesis of these neglected subjects. The essays on Scotts Run in this volume of West Virginia History represent one small step toward achieving this larger undertaking.

Ronald L. Lewis is a professor of history and chair of the department at West Virginia University.

Spicebush Information

Spicebush is known by a variety of names, including spicewood, wild allspice, snap-bush, feverwood, and Benjamin bush. As the name suggests, the plant’s most distinctive feature is the spicy aroma that perfumes the air whenever a leaf or twig is crushed.

A relatively large shrub, spicebush reaches heights of 6 to 12 feet (1.8 to 3.6 m.) at maturity, with a similar spread. The shrub is valued not only for its scent, but for the emerald green leaves which, with enough sunlight, turn a lovely shade of yellow in autumn.

Spicebush is dioecious, which means that male and female flowers are on separate plants. The tiny yellow flowers are relatively insignificant, but they make an attractive display when the tree is in full bloom.

There’s nothing insignificant about the showy berries, which are glossy and bright red (and loved by birds). The berries are especially noticeable after the leaves drop in fall. However, berries develop only on female plants, which won’t occur without a male pollinator.

Spicebush is a good choice for a butterfly garden, as it is the preferred food source for several butterflies, including black and blue spicebush swallowtail butterflies. The blooms attract bees and other beneficial insects.

Albuquerque’s racist history haunts its housing market

Five years ago, Albuquerque-born Lan Sena considered purchasing land at the foothills of the Sandia Mountains. She found a property in the Four Hills area, where elegant houses coexist with cholla cactus on rolling hills. A horrifying clause in the property’s covenant nauseated her.

“When we pulled up the deed of the property, it had that language in there that Asians and African Americans could not live on the land unless they were slaves,” Sena said. She ultimately didn’t buy the land. As the 31-year-old daughter of two Vietnamese refugees who came to the Southwestern city in 1975 and 1981, respectively, through a federal resettlement program, she was deeply offended. In March 2020, Sena was appointed to the city council, the first Asian American ever to hold the position. “We have always been here,” Sena told me. “So when I got into office, I said this (language) was very unacceptable to me and I want it out.”

Racist and restrictive covenants like the one Sena encountered are no longer enforceable owing to the 1968 Fair Housing Act. Yet they still appear in the deeds of thousands of households in every part of Albuquerque, according to Stephon L. Scott, senior policy advisor on diversity and inclusion at the National Institutes of Health, whose master’s thesis at the University of New Mexico focused on the city’s racial covenants. Between 1920 and 1960, the town of 15,000 ballooned to become one of the Southwest’s largest metropolises, with around 200,000 people. But as the city grew, its government and early developers introduced racial covenants to scores of the most desirable neighborhoods in order to exclude Asian American, Black and Hispanic American homeowners. These practices, a recent seven-month investigation by local TV station KRQE found, made Albuquerque, like many Western towns, as segregated as the Deep South.

That discriminatory language persists in property deeds today. After 1968, some Albuquerque title companies omitted restrictions based on race, color or national origin, scrubbing the racist language from their covenants. But many did not. In March, High Country News reviewed 10 property deeds in historically white neighborhoods closings and found that four of them still included racially offensive language from the city’s segregated past.

At the height of the pandemic, Asian Americans who had experienced housing discrimination in historically white neighborhoods were harassed, with strangers telling them to “go back to your country.” Civil rights advocates and state and local policymakers like Sena are now fighting to eliminate the remaining racist covenants, their efforts given new urgency by the recent surge of verbal abuse and violence against Asian people. They worry that the language in the deeds discourages people of color from owning land in the city, reinforcing the bias that Black and Asian Americans don’t belong in the state.

“For New Mexico, we have a long history of these obvious racist practices,” Sena said. “It's dangerous when we single out (a community) or continue these systems of oppression and racism.”

AFTER THE CIVIL WAR, African Americans left the South and journeyed to the territory of New Mexico to homestead on small farms. By the 1880s, over 100 formerly enslaved people had settled in what is now east Albuquerque. Later, the railroad brought Chinese and Japanese immigrants to the sparsely populated land in search of economic opportunity. Many were fleeing California and its anti-Asian racism.

By 1920, eight years after statehood, New Mexico was multicultural, home to nearly 6,000 African Americans, about 500 Asian Americans and over 19,000 Indigenous people. Chinese Americans opened laundries, restaurants and grocery stores in downtown Albuquerque, while around 250 Japanese Americans and Japanese immigrants became successful farmers in southern New Mexico. But white growers resented their increasingly prosperous Japanese American counterparts, and their hatred fueled the agenda of leaders who hoped to make the state racially exclusive and recognizably white, according to a 2013 paper about racial discrimination in the state by Jamie Bronstein, a professor at New Mexico State University. In 1921, voters adopted an “alien landownership” amendment to the New Mexico Constitution. Known as the Alien Land Law, it barred people of Asian descent from owning and leasing real estate.

This Jim Crow-era provision bolstered anti-immigrant hatred in New Mexico. A “whites only” ideology oozed into real estate covenants in New Mexico in the early 1920s as segregated cinemas, hotels, restaurants and residential areas sprang up statewide. Soon, Albuquerque’s downtown Chinese enclave had been erased. During World War II, almost every Japanese American in New Mexico was forced into internment camps.

High Country News spoke to three multigeneration Chinese American families who said that from the 1930s to 1960s, real estate agents and neighborhood associations in white-only subdivisions rejected development plans for grocery stores and restaurants that were put forward by people of Asian descent and their “Black brothers and sisters.” “If my great-grandpa were allowed to have land, the Tang family and Chinese Americans could have owned downtown Albuquerque,” said Aimee Tang, a fourth-generation Chinese American resident. Finally, in 1968, the Fair Housing Act prohibited discrimination based on race or national origin in real estate sale, rental and financing of housing. But echoes of that racist past lived on.

It wasn’t until 2002 that a measure to repeal the discriminatory anti-immigrant amendment in the state Constitution went before voters. New Mexicans overwhelmingly voted against it, largely in response to the xenophobia stirred up by the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. “I want to be proud of New Mexico, and this was an insult,” Dora-Linda Wang, a Chinese American psychiatrist who has called New Mexico home for 23 years, told me.

In 2003, Wang decided to do something about it. She coordinated a group of advocates, primarily Asian Americans working in academia and legislative lobbying, to educate policymakers and the public. Beginning in 2004, Wang invited historians, lawyers and then-State Sen. Cisco McSorley, who sponsored the bill for repealing the “alien landownership” amendment, to appear on her TV talk show, Duke City Magazine.

In 2006, voters, by a vast margin, approved the second attempt to remove the Alien Land Law from the state Constitution. “Many of us continue to feel it was the most gratifying thing we’ve done in our lives. It was worth it,” Wang told High Country News.

Fifteen years after she helped repeal the Alien Land Law, however, Wang found herself scrolling through threads on Nextdoor, a neighborhood-based social networking service, in between seeing clients remotely. Several posts caught her attention: Her neighbors were posting their property deeds, which included clauses like “no person of African or Oriental descent shall use or occupy any building or lot for residential purposes.” She realized that her work was not yet finished.

IN 2017, Wang moved to a neat one-story house in Huning Castle, a downtown Albuquerque neighborhood. Every summer, verdant canopies of towering cottonwoods shade her home from the scorching desert sun. She enjoys telling Albuquerque newcomers about the Spanish revival mansion two doors down, which became famous in the popular TV series Breaking Bad as the residence of Jesse Pinkman, Walter White’s capricious meth-lab partner.

Over 70 years ago, Huning Castle was designated a whites-only neighborhood. Even Wang wasn’t aware of the fact until she read about racially restrictive language in the property deeds shown online. At the closing table, when she purchased her home, the title company removed the racial covenant on her new property. But some of her neighbors weren’t as lucky. One of Wang's neighbors noticed the racist clause, which was still in her deed, and posted about it on Nextdoor, writing, “Leaving hateful, discriminating, and dehumanizing text in a document — then saying it doesn’t matter because it isn’t relevant anymore — is racist gaslighting.”

Tired of watching the news, frustrated by the ongoing police brutalities against African Americans and the rise in violence and “microaggressions” toward people who looked like her, Wang complained about the racial covenants to the Huning Castle Neighborhood Association. “We’ve been trying to make amendments to this relationship since 1964. But, you know, the abuse continues,” Wang told me, speaking from her front porch, where a red chili ristra dangled. “It’s no longer in the laws, but the racial abuse continues to be in the deeds and in the daily attitudes of people.”

To Wang, the main obstacle to removing the racist language appeared to be the same thing she’d faced when she fought the Alien Land Law: a lack of awareness. At the most recent monthly meeting of her homeowners’ association, Wang brought up the issue, arguing that for her and people who look like her, the issue is not political. “Words matter,” Wang said. The neighborhood association wrote High Country News in an email that it “would support the removal of any and all discriminatory language in property deeds.”

Currently, New Mexico state Sens. Daniel Ivey-Soto and Jerry Ortiz y Pino are drafting a bill that would encourage the removal of all racial covenants. “We need to erase it from who we are,” Ortiz y Pino said. The two senators are reaching out to community leaders like Wang and Sena to learn more about the subject.

“Many call the deeds a dirty little secret. It’s dirty. It’s awful. But for a lot of our Asian Americans, it’s not a secret,” Sena said. “The dangerous language can lead to exactly these policies” — legislation as viciously racist as the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act. “We’ve learned these lessons in history so that we don’t repeat them.”

Wufei Yu is an editorial intern at High Country News. Email him at [email protected] or submit a letter to the editor.

Watch the video: 21901 Briarcliff Dr Spicewood Tx (July 2022).


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