  One of the most enduring mysteries of the Old Burying Ground is a low, long gravestone, adorned not with the usual winged soul of the Revolutionary years, but with six tiny, very human figures. These carvings represent six of the seven children of Sarah and Abijah Childs, who died within three weeks of each other in the summer of 1778. These children were among many casualties in an unnamed epidemic that swept through Lexington that year. Such a marker is a testament to how little some things change over the years, as we work our way through humanity’s latest deadly disease.
One thing that makes the current situation easier to bear, from a historical perspective, is the amount of documentation we have: newspaper articles, blogs, photos, videos…the amount of information a 22nd century historian will have on the coronavirus is staggering. But in the 18th century? Studying disease can be a frustrating process, involving poring over town books and letters, with much internal groaning over our ancestors’ lack of death records. Most 18th century vital records do not list what someone died of and, course, even when records do exist, they are often speculation, or use archaic terms for a variety of diseases. The outbreak in Lexington has been argued by some historians to be dysentery, an offshoot of noted outbreaks in other towns, but the possibilities are endless. Measles, whooping cough, diphtheria…all were rampant at different periods of time, particularly among children. The most popular possibility for any 18th century mystery epidemic is usually smallpox, being the most well-known and well-documented disease of the time period. But was it in evidence here? Boston did publicly notify of infections in town, mainly to ease the minds of the locals whenever rumors of illness started sweeping through the streets. It was not uncommon to see news reports specifying that a local case had been discovered, that the infected persons had been removed to the quarantine hospital on Rainsford Island, in the harbor, and that the town was currently free from disease. The spring of 1778 did see an outbreak in the city, and letters to the editor in Boston newspapers complained in mid-summer that the pox didn’t seem to be abating, despite reassurance from officials. The largest outbreak of smallpox in the greater Boston area was in 1776, and we do know that it made its way to Lexington by the end of that year. In December, Betty Clarke, the 13-year-old daughter of Reverend Jonas Clarke, contracted smallpox, possibly during a visit to the city. As soon as Betty showed signs of pox, Reverend Clarke rushed to make an appointment with a local doctor to inoculate the whole family. Whether Clarke urged the rest of the town to do the same to prevent the outbreak from spreading is unknown, so we still can’t rule smallpox out for what was plaguing the town in 1778. But the practice of inoculation was widespread at the time. The precursor to modern vaccines, inoculation, had been popularized in Boston a generation earlier during an outbreak in 1721. The process, involving depositing infected matter into the body of a healthy person to induce an immune response, had actually been in successful use in Asia and Africa for several centuries, while Western doctors looked on in distrust. It was actually the enslaved population of Boston who first told the locals about the practice. Onesimus, a man enslaved by Cotton Mather (of witch trials fame) told his master that a scar on his arm was from an operation he had had back in Africa, which made him immune to the pox. After corroborating this account with others, Mather began an extensive public campaign encouraging locals to adopt inoculation, but then, as now, it took the public a long time to get over fears of complications, or spreading the disease further. John Adams was inoculated before the Revolution, in 1764, and wrote of his experience: “They took their Launcetts and with their Points divided the skin for about a Quarter of an Inch and just suffering the Blood to appear, buried a Thread about half a Quarter of an Inch long in the Channel. A little Lint was then laid over the scratch and a Piece of a Ragg pressed on, and then a Bandage bound over.” The thread mentioned would have been soaked in fluid from a fresh pustule, allowing the virus to enter the bloodstream through the cut. Not something that would work in a modern hospital! The development of vaccines has clearly come a long way since the 18th century, no longer dealing in live viruses and mass cross-contamination. But at the time, this was (in America, at least) a revolutionary new technology that allowed people to believe they had a fighting chance against the most infamous disease in the world. While our experiences of dealing with medical mysteries have been frustratingly similar through the centuries, hopefully flu shots this winter, and COVID shots to come, won’t seem nearly as harrowing now. And in the future, we will hopefully have our stories preserved so that future historians won’t be quite so in the dark as they try to piece our long and complicated story. If you would like to add your story of what it’s like to live in Lexington during the COVID-19 pandemic, please consider contributing to the COVID-19 History Project! -Sarah McDonough, Programs Manager
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 Two of the "Oak Bluffs women," Boston Herald, September 1950 How can a jury of peers be guaranteed when it excludes a large number of possible peers?
There is no good answer to this question. It simply cannot be done. The right to a trial by jury - an impartial jury of peers - is one of the principal American rights guaranteed by the US Constitution. And of course, as we have seen throughout history time and again, women were largely excluded from this right. Women were prohibited from serving on juries due to a “defect of sex” as stated in the English common law and because of the widely held belief that their primary role was in the home. As a result, most American juries were not representative of the population. This is not a jury of peers, but of the unfairly privileged. This year, we celebrate the 100th anniversary of the ratification of the 19th Amendment. We all can name the year women earned the right to vote, but too often we forget the many other achievements that were still in the making. Yes, women’s suffrage was accomplished in 1920, but did you know women were prohibited from serving on juries in Massachusetts until 1950? 30 years later! How is this possible? The anti-suffrage movement played a crucial role in keeping women off of juries, particularly in Massachusetts. Many anti-suffragists argued that giving women the right to vote implied the right to serve on juries, which was “unthinkable.” They believed that women would lack the skills necessary to come to an objective decision in court. Various cartoons were published solely to persuade states to prohibit women from jury duty; one anti-suffragist and political cartoonist Kenneth Russel Chamberlain depicted the imagined effects in the illustration above, arguing “women are too sentimental.” This notion that women were ill-equipped to serve on juries came from the widely-held belief that their sole responsibility was in the home. It was so commonly accepted by Americans that proponents of women on juries often incorporated this assumption into their argument. Supporters turned the roadblock of the household obligation into a qualifying factor: since women stayed primarily in the home, they had less experience on juries and would therefore be more careful in consideration as well as objective and impartial in decision-making. Still, opponents of women jurors cried that women were simply too emotional to handle jury duty; women would be “confronted with unseemly matters” and could be “embarrassed” by court cases. After gaining traction, this idea made its way into the juror service law in 1949. The law, which granted women the right to serve on juries in Massachusetts, limited jury service to be voluntary for women and allowed the judge to bar women from service if the case would “embarrass them.” However, this did not stop the determined women of Massachusetts from serving when they could, once the women-on-juries law was passed. The "Oak Bluffs women," as the first two women to sit on a jury of the Massachusetts superior court were called, were “thrilled” to be in a courtroom for the very first time. The first five women from Massachusetts selected for federal grand jury in 1950 (two of the five pictured) were quite excited with the prospects of serving and had a lot of confidence in their abilities. One of the women, 55-year-old Edythe Sullivan from Worcester, saw the opportunity as “a welcome change.” She even told the Boston Herald that “women [may] end up doing a much better job than men!” In the federal case, half of the women selected claimed exemption -- because they could. It wasn’t until 1975, in the Supreme Court decision Taylor v. Louisiana, that courts were required to treat women jurors equally to men. When only 10% of the jury was female despite the fact that 53% of eligible jurors were women, defendant Billy Taylor filed to reject the jury but was dismissed by the state. The case eventually went to the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled “a representative cross section of the community” is a necessary part of a jury of peers, which is validated by the sixth amendment. Now women could no longer claim exemption from jury duty; they were required to serve alongside men. In 1975. As I sat down to write this article, I was absolutely shocked. My initial response was: Why is no one talking about this?! Women were not even permitted on juries in Massachusetts until 1950, much less required to serve until 1975! Even then the Supreme Court had to decide for the nation. It is all kinds of ridiculous to me that women were banned from jury duty for so long and that this part of history is not even acknowledged. As a rising freshman in college, I am looking forward to four more years of education. Education where I want to learn about history so that it is not repeated. So that I do not repeat it. We live in a world that so desperately needs justice and equity. If we could not find fair representation in our justice system until 45 years ago (and even still, there is more work to be done) why do we not recognize that? Why is it swept under the rug? What are the consequences of this ignorance about our past? This critical turning point in the women’s rights movement cannot go unnoticed, or else we are sure to repeat history. We need to recognize where we have failed in order to succeed and find true justice, even when our system is hurting right now. Where can we find justice? -Amy Palmer, local student and guest blogger. Sources
 Dear Friends:
It has been five months since the state shut down and Lexington Historical Society closed its doors. I thought I would give our members and friends an update on how we have coped, what we have continued to do normally, and what we have done differently. And of course, how this might affect our future. When we decided to close our museums and gift shop and work remotely on March 13, I thought it would last for a month; perhaps a bit more or a bit less. Our Treasurer suggested we should prepare for the fact that our museums may be shut down through Labor Day. When he suggested that, I thought he was being far too pessimistic: yet, here we are, in the middle of August, and our museums are still closed (on the inside at least). Sorry I doubted you, Dave. Like everyone else, I was at a loss on how to proceed. How would we fulfill our mission? Would it even be possible without our museums open? Would we have to cancel our programs indefinitely? Could we even continue as an organization? These questions kept me up at night. We began to explore our options, holding committee and staff meetings on Zoom to figure out how to proceed. We soon realized it might be possible to also hold a program via Zoom. After all, we had a full slate of programming scheduled for Patriots Day, just a few weeks away. It was worth a shot, right? Sarah McDonough, our Programs Manager, contacted our scheduled speakers to find out if they would be willing to present their program virtually. Most agreed. Soon we had a full “Virtual Patriots’ Day” weekend planned, with several virtual programs scheduled all three days of the weekend and into the following week. Our Virtual Patriots’ Day was a smashing success. We attracted hundreds of people from all over the world, many of whom would not have been able to engage with us in a traditional format. Over the course of spring and summer, we became virtual programming experts, hosting Q&As, lectures, collections presentations, tours, and even our First Shot! summer camp with sixteen children. We continue to plan our upcoming programs virtually, including those that are part of the town-wide “Lexington Remembers WWII” commemoration. We have begun outdoor tours, offered with a guide, as well as self-guided with our online “Lexington by Foot and Phone” experience. While we have only seen a few visitors, it feels encouraging to offer some kind of in-person experience. What we have learned over the course of the last five months is that, despite the pandemic and subsequent shutdown, we have been able to effectively fulfill our mission, and engage even more people than ever before. Because of the virtual format, physical and geographic barriers are removed allowing for a broader audience. I believe that even in a post-COVID-19 world, we will continue to offer many of our programs virtually because of what we have learned during this period. I like to talk about the silver lining, and our ability to fulfill our mission during this time is certainly a silver lining. However, the pandemic has had a negative impact on Lexington Historical Society too. I would be remiss in my role as Executive Director to ignore it. From March 13 until recently, we have had to furlough our guide staff, as we were unable to offer tours. Our guide staff members are our representatives to the community and to the world, as they are often the first to greet visitors when they walk through the doors of Buckman Tavern. To be unable to have our seasonal guide staff work in our museums was very unfortunate. In addition, our wonderful volunteer greeters have been unable to give their time this summer, something we truly value at our organization. Every spring, summer, and fall, members of the community volunteer to greet visitors at Hancock-Clarke House and Munroe Tavern. They too serve as ambassadors, welcoming visitors from around the world, selling tickets, and offering information about Lexington, its history, and things to do in the surrounding area. Our volunteers are a major part of our team, and to not be able to offer them that experience was devastating. Of course, one of the more lasting ways COVID has impacted us is financially. Because of this pandemic, we have lost the ability to rent the Depot, host field trips, open the museums, and hold traditional fundraisers. Without these activities, we will lose over a third of our revenue this year. While we are being creative about the ways we can raise money, the fact remains that we will end the year in a deficit. Like most non-profit organizations, this leaves us wondering what we should expect for 2021. No one can fully predict what the 2021 tourist season will be like, if it even takes place, and we do not know if gatherings will be possible next year. Therefore, our revenue sources could, and most likely will, be affected by this pandemic well into 2021. The future is unknown and we, along with most other museums, may have to reevaluate and change the way we do things to adapt to this New Normal. However, some things will never change. Lexington Historical Society was founded in 1886 as an organization dedicated to preserving Lexington’s history. Since then, the world has changed and our organization has changed, but we are still dedicated to preserving our four historic properties and fulfilling our promise to be a premier interpreter of the events of April 1775, and the faithful steward of all of the town's history through time. We have always had wonderful support from our members, friends, and the community. We need your support now more than ever before. To help us continue our important work, please pitch in. No amount is too small. You can give online or mail a check to Lexington Historical Society, PO Box 514 Lexington, MA 02420. My hope is that someday we can look back at this time with gratitude and pride: gratitude for the lessons it taught us and the ways it encouraged us to be more creative and pride in how we weathered the storm, survived it, and came out stronger than before. Thank you for your support. Yours in history, Erica McAvoy, Executive Director  Boston Herald, September 1950 How can a jury of peers be guaranteed when it excludes a large number of possible peers?
There is no good answer to this question. It simply cannot be done. The right to a trial by jury - an impartial jury of peers - is one of the principal American rights guaranteed by the United States Constitution. And of course, as we have seen throughout history time and again, women were largely excluded from this right. Women were prohibited from serving on juries due to a “defect of sex” as stated in the English common law and because of the widely held belief that their primary role was in the home. As a result, most American juries were not representative of the population. This is not a jury of peers, but of the unfairly privileged. This year, we celebrate the 100th anniversary of the ratification of the 19th Amendment. We all can name the year women earned the right to vote, but too often we forget the many other achievements that were still in the making. Yes, women’s suffrage was accomplished in 1920, but did you know women were prohibited from serving on juries in Massachusetts until 1950? 30 years later! How is this possible? The anti-suffrage movement played a crucial role in keeping women off of juries, particularly in Massachusetts. Many anti-suffragists argued that giving women the right to vote implied the right to serve on juries, which was “unthinkable.” They believed that women would lack the skills necessary to come to an objective decision in court. Various cartoons were published solely to persuade states to prohibit women from jury duty; one anti-suffragist and political cartoonist Kenneth Russel Chamberlain depicted the imagined effects in the illustration above, arguing “women are too sentimental.” This notion that women were ill-equipped to serve on juries came from the widely-held belief that their sole responsibility was in the home. It was so commonly accepted by Americans that proponents of women on juries often incorporated this assumption into their argument. Supporters turned the roadblock of the household obligation into a qualifying factor: since women stayed primarily in the home, they had less experience on juries and would therefore be more careful in consideration as well as objective and impartial in decision-making. Still, opponents of women jurors cried that women were simply too emotional to handle jury duty; women would be “confronted with unseemly matters” and could be “embarrassed” by court cases. After gaining traction, this idea made its way into the juror service law in 1949. The law, which granted women the right to serve on juries in Massachusetts, limited jury service to be voluntary for women and allowed the judge to bar women from service if the case would “embarrass them.” However, this did not stop the determined women of Massachusetts from serving when they could, once the women-on-juries law was passed. The "Oak Bluffs women," the first two women to sit on a jury of the Massachusetts superior court, were “thrilled” to be in a courtroom for the very first time. The first five women from Massachusetts selected for federal grand jury in 1950 (two of the five women pictured here) were quite excited with the prospects of serving and had a lot of confidence in their abilities. One of the women, 55-year-old Edythe Sullivan from Worcester, saw the opportunity as “a welcome change.” She even told the Boston Herald that “women [may] end up doing a much better job than men!” In the federal case, half of the women selected claimed exemption -- because they could. It wasn’t until 1975, in the Supreme Court decision Taylor v. Louisiana, that courts were required to treat women jurors equally to men. When only 10% of the jury was female despite the fact that 53% of eligible jurors were women, defendant Billy Taylor filed to reject the jury but was dismissed by the state. The case eventually went to the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled “a representative cross section of the community” is a necessary part of a jury of peers, which is validated by the sixth amendment. Now women could no longer claim exemption from jury duty; they were required to serve alongside men. In 1975. As I sat down to write this article, I was absolutely shocked. My initial response was: Why is no one talking about this?! Women were not even permitted on juries in Massachusetts until 1950, much less required to serve until 1975! Even then the Supreme Court had to decide for the nation. It is all kinds of ridiculous to me that women were banned from jury duty for so long and that this part of history is not even acknowledged. As a rising freshman in college, I am looking forward to four more years of education. Education where I want to learn about history so that it is not repeated. So that I do not repeat it. We live in a world that so desperately needs justice and equity. If we could not find fair representation in our justice system until 45 years ago (and even still, there is more work to be done) why do we not recognize that? Why is it swept under the rug? What are the consequences of this ignorance about our past? This critical turning point in the women’s rights movement cannot go unnoticed, or else we are sure to repeat history. We need to recognize where we have failed in order to succeed and find true justice, even when our system is hurting right now. Where can we find justice? -Amy Palmer, local student and guest blogger Sources
 Photo from britishredcoat.blogspot.com. Lexington draws an annual 10,000+ visitors who seek to watch April 19, 1775 come to life before their eyes. They chat with a costumed interpreter, read Longfellow’s poem, and dress up as a Redcoat. If they’re especially fascinated, perhaps they’ll investigate for themselves where that “first shot” may have come from.
Over my seven years as a tour guide in Lexington, though, it’s been rare that I’m asked about people of marginalized identities who lived in the town and/or took part in the events of April 19th—particularly Black people. I always make a point on tours to address the presence and roles of Black people and women, and that they ought to be viewed as more than just a supplement to the main story. I was once asked why I dared to make such a “political statement” on tour. The fact is that Lexington is by no means immune from the perils of slavery; there exists documentation proving well over a century of involuntary servitude in our town. You may be asking yourself what this fact has to do with the history of April 19, 1775, but in reality it is the only reason necessary to further examine the place of slavery in “the birthplace of American liberty.” The lives and stories of enslaved people work just as much to define “American” as do the actions of Paul Revere and Captain John Parker. It’s important that they’re told. A 1754 census showed twenty-four enslaved people living in Lexington – the highest number in the state. It’s especially worth noting that Lexington, at that time, was a small town of less than 700 people. Reverend John Hancock (grandfather of the signatory of the Declaration of Independence), was himself a slave owner, having used town funds to purchase a man referred to as “Jack” in family records. The Hancock family later bought a second enslaved person, Dinah. By 1775, the number of enslaved people in Lexington had decreased to eight. A number of free Black people also resided in the town, possibly including former enslaved people who either chose to remain in Lexington or continued working for the families by whom they had been owned. Of this Black population at the time, at least three were present on the common when the opening shots of the Revolution were fired: Silas and Eli Burdoo, both free, and Prince Estabrook, an enslaved person. We don’t know exactly why Prince served with Captain Parker’s militia, although it’s likely that it was in lieu of his master. Prince, then 35, was among the ten militiamen wounded that morning, making him the first person of color of the war to suffer injury. (This would, of course, depend on how one defines the true “beginning” of the war; one could argue it was Crispus Attucks at the Boston Massacre.) Though set off for a time to recover from his wound, Prince continued serving in the Continental Army in the following years. Prince eventually did meet freedom – either through his enslaver Benjamin Estabrook or with the abolition of slavery in Massachusetts in 1783. However, a 1790 census of the town showed that “a nonwhite freeman” lived on the Estabrook farm, meaning that Prince may have continued to live near the family. After his former master’s death in 1803, Prince followed three of his sons to Ashby, Massachusetts, where he lived until he died around the age of ninety; he is buried there. In 2008, a memorial was placed outside of Buckman Tavern, where Prince would have met with some eighty other militiamen early on April 19th, to commemorate his military service (pictured above). As many as forty other people of color, both free and enslaved, are known to have participated in the events of April 19th in some capacity. History tends to see them today as “staunch patriots” who were fabulously loyal to the cause – but claims such as this are not based on material evidence. While it may be easy to come to the conclusion that the war brought a sense of unity that eventually resulted in the end of slavery in Massachusetts, it’s important to note that few, if any, accounts exist from Black people themselves. Thus, it’s impossible to say for certain why these soldiers served, and, more generally, how they viewed the rebellion. Patriotism truly had a different meaning to those who were enslaved; Reverend Jonas Clarke (Rev. Hancock’s successor) regularly used the term “slavery” to chronicle the conditions of simply living under British rule in the colonies. Lexington may be known as a progressive suburb today, but by no means was it always like this. Lexington Historical Society is committed to promoting diversity and inclusion in its interpretation of our town’s history – all of it. Last year the LHS began a multi-year project dedicated to research on Lexington’s Black residents and the integration of it into our historic tours, particularly that of the Hancock-Clarke House. On your next visit to our historic sites (and any others you visit), I invite and encourage you: ask about Black people, enslaved and free. Ask about Indigenous people. Ask about women. Much of what we may hope to know has been lost to history – but every bit of research must begin with an inquiry. -Ben Bernier, Tour Guide  After months of virtual history, it’s time to get real.
Starting Monday July 20, Lexington Historical Society will offer Outdoor Guided Tours! With 4 guided walking tours and 2 brand-new self-guided phone tours, there is something for everyone and we can’t wait to welcome you back to our landscapes. Our guided walking tours allow for a safe return for visitors and the opportunity to think outside the box of a traditional historic house tour. Tours will be conducted in accordance with CDC, state and local guidelines. Groups of no more than 10 will explore the landscapes – both natural and built - around two of our historic houses and the circa 1690 Old Burying Ground. Buckman Tavern Talk: Visitors will hear the history of Buckman Tavern from the time it was built to the Battle of Lexington as well as what life in a Colonial Tavern was like for the Buckmans. Visitors are invited to look through the windows to see the historic furnished interior. Architecture Tour: This short walking tour will start at Buckman Tavern and lead visitors down Hancock Street to the Hancock-Clarke House. The tour will provide an overview of the different architectural styles found throughout Lexington and are most prominent on this street. Old Burying Ground Tour (traditional): This tour highlights the history of the Old Burying Ground. The tour will discuss the general history of the Old Burying Ground and visitors will discover some of the stories of Lexington’s past residents. Stories in Stone: Visitors will go on a tour of the Old Burying Ground discussing specific gravestones and memorials. This tour, while touching on the history of the Old Burying Ground, is focused on the evolution through time of the Old Burying Ground and highlights specific stones for artistic and historical exploration. What to Expect: In accordance with CDC, state and local guidelines, all staff and visitors will be required to wear face coverings and 6 feet of social distancing will be observed during tours. All tour tickets will be timed and available for pre-purchase online. Tour sizes will be no more than 10 people (9 visitors + 1 guide). Visitors will be outside for the entirety of the walking tour. Our historic houses are closed to the public. Please plan accordingly for restroom and other needs. Visitors who feel ill or decline to follow the health guidelines are not permitted to attend the tour. A refund will be issued. Handheld History: Visitors can now head outside and explore Lexington's history with new self-guided phone tours! Lexington by Foot and Phone is a personal handheld guide to the past. These tours will allow users to explore outdoor historic sites in the town center at their own pace and on their own schedule. Take a walk around the Battle Green to learn more about the fateful first day of the American Revolution, and the monuments that commemorate it. Or stroll up Hancock Street to discover a stunning array of historic 19th century buildings in many architectural styles. More tours to come! Full tour details are available at lexingtonhistory.org/landscapes. -Stacey Fraser, Collections and Outreach Manager  Tour guide Ben Bernier and Education & Interpretaton Manager Chris Kauffman prepare for in-person camp in 2016. The last week of June is normally one of the busier weeks of year for me at Lexington Historical Society. Typically, our historic houses are open and just starting to buzz with the influx of visitors to Lexington and we have just finished up with our school group season so I’m crunching numbers on how many smiling faces learned what Rev. Clarke ate. However, one of my favorite tasks of this week is finalizing craft materials and plans for our First Shot Summer Camp.
Our summer camp typically runs for a week the week after Independence Day and allows campers to not only view our historic sites in person, but also become active participants as they complete crafts and activities similar to what Lexington residents would have been completing during the Colonial and Revolutionary War eras in Lexington. It has always been such a joy to see how artistic and thorough the campers are as they craft a tin lantern from an aluminum soup can or design & sew their own haversacks. However, like many things so far this season, we have been challenged to reimagine what a camp would look like for this summer. With the small touring spaces in our historic homes and the uncertainty of site-specific COVID-19 protocols, we’ve decided to offer the summer camp virtually. This year’s version of camp will be held the week of July 20-24 and will consist of two sessions each day (1 hour in the morning and 1 hour in the afternoon). Campers will go on a virtual tour in the morning with a member of our staff and then in the afternoon will receive instruction on a hands-on craft relating to Colonial life. Our “Camp in a Box” kits will be available for pickup (or mailing) as we approach the dates for camp. While we understand that one of the unique aspects of camp in interacting with staff and other participants in a person-to-person setting, we are hopeful that participants of our virtual camp will at least be able to interact with the history we normally experience during First Shot Summer Camp. If you’re interested in signing up for the camp, please visit our website. If you have questions, feel free to reach out to me personally at ckauffman@lexingtonhistory.org. -Chris Kauffman, Education and Interpretation Manager  Being a tour guide at the Historical Society gives you a unique set of conversational skills.
In essence, like all educators, I have been something resembling a professional public speaker for over a decade. It involves having to speak to groups of all sizes, ages, levels of education, and proficiency in English. On a busy day, a guide might have to teach the same subject matter to a class of third graders, a family of tourists from Germany, and a group of college professors. Inside, outside, microphone or no, walking or standing still, a single person or a hundred - it’s hard to be fazed after having dealt with so many variables for so long. But Zoom? Zoom threw me for a loop. When the world came to a screeching halt in mid-March, we had a wide roster of events on the horizon. Spring is the busiest time of year for the Historical Society: in addition to the usual lectures and book club meetings, several large fundraisers were in the middle of planning, and Patriots’ Day was on the horizon. We scrambled to find ways to reschedule or reimagine these events on new platforms. Before long, we, along with the rest, began the awkward process of learning the art of video conferencing for people other than far-away relatives. Corners of strategically placed books were cultivated. Laptops were elevated at precise angles. We purchased a setup for webinars – a function that ensures that all eyes are on the speaker, as the audience’s cameras are deactivated. Looking into the void can be terrifying. When you hit the broadcast button and the number of viewers begins rising at the bottom of the screen, there is always a terrifying moment where you nearly forget how to function as a human being. There is no simple way of knowing if things are operating properly, if people can see and hear you. All you have is a tiny camera lens to focus on, while trying not to look at your own moving image underneath it. Stage fright makes you hyper-aware of your every move; can you imagine compounding that with being able to actually see your every move in real time as well? As it turns out, speaking into the void has a learning curve like any other. Lessons get learned and life moves on. I have been so pleased with everyone’s ability to pivot and reimagine how a public program can be run. The world has weathered audio and visual issues, zoom-bombing, and more, but the continued interest in coming together to learn about history has been heartening. Even when we are apart, there is an intrinsic need to feel a part of a community, to interact, and to learn together. Our programs so far have allowed us to have wonderful discussions with people from all over the country and the world, and to hear from speakers up to 97 years old. This new world brings many challenges, but we will persevere. With each new challenge comes a host of new opportunities as well, for people to connect with and learn from each other. And, so far, no one has yet become a potato by mistake. It’s the small things in life that matter most. -Sarah McDonough, Programs Manager  Photo by Kevin Grady, Radcliffe Institute. Courtesy of Schlesinger Library.  On August 18th, 2020 -- the 100th anniversary of women’s suffrage -- I will turn 18 years old. For the first time in my life, I’ll have the chance to vote in a presidential election. I certainly don’t take the opportunity to vote lightly, but how do I even begin to wrap my head around this decision? The whole world has been brought to a screeching halt with a global pandemic; schools and businesses have shut down and public transportation has largely been abandoned as we abide by stay at home orders. We’ve been quarantined for the past eight and half weeks already. As for the political situation, it’s vicious. I’ve been told that this upcoming election is one of the most complex presidential races in the history of the United States. So, what am I to think? What am I to do? To answer this question, I often wonder what my Nana would have said. She grew up during the great depression, survived World War II and 9/11, battled cancer twice, and never complained. Shea was extremely proud of all of her grandkids’ accomplishments, and was excited for the opportunities that awaited her granddaughters in particular. She would’ve had the right to vote in 1947, but as a young woman with very little money she had limited opportunities. My Nana once told me she only had a few career options: secretary, clerical worker, or bank teller. However, she watched the great strides women have made over the decades and was encouraged about opportunities available to her granddaughters that she never had herself. Reflecting on my Nana’s experiences prompted me to dig a little deeper. Before the pandemic shut down its doors, the historical society in my town launched an exhibit titled Something Must Be Done: Bold Women of Lexington. This is how I discovered the motto of the Women’s Suffrage Movement “Something Must Be Done.” I began to wonder this: if something needed to be done then, how does that apply to what must be done now? What did those bold women like my Nana have to overcome? I found that in order to secure the right to vote, women had to be incredibly persistent; the women’s movement began in 1848, 72 years before suffrage was finally accomplished. The town of Lexington witnessed this brave perseverance with the passing of the Lexington suffrage banner. In November of 1912, the Lexington Equal Suffrage Association reconvened for their first meeting in which Caroline Wellington and fellow suffragettes presented the original banner to the association. Initially created for the Lexington Women's Suffrage League in 1887, the banner was now being handed down to a new generation of suffragists nearly twenty-five years later. This new generation would continue the decades-long fight for equal voting rights until its accomplishment just eight years later, using the banner emblazoned with the phrase “Something Must Be Done” as their symbol and guide. The town of Lexington also watched the various setbacks over the course of this movement, including the failure of the 1915 referendum. The Lexington Equal Suffrage Association helped pin up 300 bluebirds throughout the town during the statewide campaign to grant Massachusetts women the vote. Despite their enormous contribution, the referendum failed with nearly 65% of men voting against women’s suffrage. Although this was a devastating defeat, victory was close. The bluebird remained a symbol of hope for Massachusetts women, and was even used to commemorate suffragist Lucy Stone’s birthday a month later. As an 18-year-old today, it is easy to take the suffragists’ hard work for granted. In a few short months, I will fill out a ballot, feed it into a machine or put it in the mailbox, and my voice will be heard. A year ago I wouldn’t think much of it, if anything at all. However, this pandemic has become a wake-up call to me. Something must be done to stop the spread of the virus, to provide relief for those who are suffering, and to reopen not just the economy but the world as we know it. There is something that we can do. We can vote. In the midst of a global crisis and a highly contested election year, we have the power to elect someone who will fight for what we believe in. This pandemic has unearthed the multitude and immensity of the issues we face as a country, ranging from environmental to economic to health care to social justice and more. This is our wake up call. Although we may feel powerless, each of us can still get involved by using our power to vote. The women of the suffrage movement knew just how important our votes are and how critical it is that each of us is heard. So this is our call to action - whether it is in a ballot in a ballot box or an envelope in a mail box, we must make our voices heard. If my Nana was still here today, I know she would tell me to not lose hope. She would gently remind me that this situation is temporary, and that there are still many opportunities for me. Then she would tell me to use those opportunities because good things will happen. And she would be right. History is in the making. The women of the suffrage movement persevered through many trials and setbacks, and so can we. Something must be done, something was done, and something will be done again. -Amy Palmer, local student and guest author "Something Must Be Done: Bold Women of Lexington" tells the stories of Lexington citizens who fought for what they believed in - whether it was British taxation, voting rights, or the institution of slavery. This exhibit is generously funded by Freedom's Way National Heritage Area and the Massachusetts Society of the Cincinnati. For more about the exhibit, visit our current exhibits page.
Find out more about suffrage bluebirds and get your own Bluebird of Hope here. Bibliography
 My quarantine workspace. Birds twitter outside my door. My children and those of the neighbors shriek and play in their respective yards. Every so often, my partner or I head out to procure supplies. Every day is an exhausting, illuminating adventure on ½ acre.
Today, I’m pondering the similarities and differences between my work for the Historical Society now, in the time of COVID-19, and the lives of the Lexington residents who lived through, for example, the 1721 smallpox epidemic. Pros (2020):
Cons (2020):
For my very selfish part, I am grateful to have a home, a job (and the ability to do said job from home), and the flexibility to teach my kids and work at the same time. Some of these things would have been possible in 18th century Lexington, but some would not (like a paying job outside the home - I am still a woman). Without getting into modern politics, what are some of the pros or cons you can think of for living in 1721 or 2020 during an epidemic of disease? *On a side note, it is extremely interesting to be an historian living through an historical moment. I feel as though anyone in the library/archives/museum field has a heightened awareness (our “Spidey sense,” so to speak) of what materials we should be collecting, what stories we should be preserving, whose voices we should be seeking out in this historic moment. This pandemic has changed almost everything about what we do, how we interact, even who we are. It’s a watershed moment in global and U.S. history and it is fascinating (though sometimes terrifying) to live through it.* -Stacey Fraser, Collections and Outreach Manager |
AuthorsFeaturing the voices of Lexington Historical Society permanent staff and occasional guest authors. Archived Posts
August 2020
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