January 9, 2026: 2026 Anniversaries: On Screen in 1976

[The start of a new year means my annual series on historic anniversaries. Leading up to a weekend post on some of what I’m planning for my Spring semester sabbatical!]

Five films that reflect the complexities and contradictions of America in its Bicentennial year.

1)      Rocky: That’s the one post where I’ve written about Rocky at any length, and what I didn’t note there is that its heroic underdog hero is a white boxer fighting on the 4^th of July against a Black champion who is wearing American flag shorts. All in a movie that came out during the Bicentennial. I really love the first Rocky, but I have to admit that I love even more that the series eventually evolved to feature Apollo Creed’s son in a series of films that lean into race in America in far more thoughtful ways.

2)      All the President’s Men: I said most of what I’d want to say about Alan Pakula’s political and journalistic thriller in that hyperlinked post. But I really do love that a film celebrating the role that journalists can and should play in speaking truth to power came out during the nation’s Bicentennial. Let’s just say we need it even more during our 250^th.

3)      Network: I haven’t previously had the chance to write about the remaining three films in this post, and these will just be quick hits on subjects that could be the focus of full posts. Network certainly makes for a compelling contrast with and thus complement to President’s Men, as it reminds us that even the most investigative and activist journalists usually work for corporations that have, let’s say, distinct motivations of their own. One more reason why we should all be mad as hell, again in 2026 even more so.

4)      Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull’s History Lesson: Robert Altman’s revisionist Western (well, one of them, alongside 1971’s McCabe & Mrs. Miller) is a mixed bag, as many of his films are for this AmericanStudier. But I can’t lie, releasing this particular film during the 100^th anniversary of the Battle of Little Big Horn, which itself had been such a complex and crucial part of the nation’s Centennial in 1876, was purely and potently a stroke of goddamn genius.

5)      The Bingo Long Traveling All-Stars & Motor Kings: I’ll say again that I love the first Rocky film—but it’s still more than a little telling that the 1976 sports film about an underdog white athlete became a beloved Oscar-winning eternal favorite, while the 1976 sports film about a group of underdog Black athletes (based on very real historical and cultural contexts no less) has been largely forgotten. Bingo Long isn’t a perfect film, but it’s a hugely entertaining sports movie, featuring a phenomenal cast (including the late great James Earl Jones), and still the best cultural representation of the Negro Leagues I’ve ever seen. If you see one 1976 film during this 50^th anniversary year, make it this one!

Special post this weekend,

Ben

PS. What do you think?

January 8, 2026: 2026 Anniversaries: Heard in 1926

[The start of a new year means my annual series on historic anniversaries. Leading up to a weekend post on some of what I’m planning for my Spring semester sabbatical!]

How a handful of influential recordings and artists reflect how much the American musical landscape was evolving and expanding in 1926.

1)      The Jazz Age: I could easily have dedicated this whole post to jazz artists and recordings from 1926, as this hugely influential year featured key early works from Jelly Roll Morton and His Red Hot Peppers, Duke Ellington and His Kentucky Club Orchestra, and Louis Armstrong and His Hot Five among many others. I’m no jazz historian, but it seems to me that this was the year this new genre really began to explode.

2)      A Blues pioneer: But as has always been the case with American music, the evolution of one genre also interconnects with, influences and is influenced by, inspires and is in conversation with, others. And so it’s no coincidence that in September 1926 some of the first recordings of a Blues artist were also captured—in his Chicago recordings that artist was known as Bo Weavil Jackson, in his New York ones Sam Butler, but in all of them he was charting new musical territory that was also very much in conversation with the artists featured above.  

3)      Aaron Copland: While Black artists were thus at the forefront of these 1926 innovations, white composers were both inspired by those trends and willing and able to take them in their own directions as well. No classical composer did so more consistently than Aaron Copland, and his 1926 composition, “Concerto for Piano and Orchestra,” features in its second movement what music critic Peter Dickinson has recently called “a crazy kind of supercharged ragtime that really upset the Boston audience … and shows how Copland exploited the jazz age to brilliant effect.” Ain’t that America?

4)      The Gershwins: I’d call those the dominant trends in 1926 music, but there was plenty of other goodness happening as well of course. For example, the brothers Ira and George Gershwin composed one of their most prominent and enduring songs, “Someone to Watch Over Me”; originally written (with some help from lyricist Howard Dietz) for the Broadway musical Oh, Kay! (which premiered in November 1926), this tune has gone over to be covered by countless greats, from Frank Sinatra to Ella Fitzgerald to Willie Nelson to Amy Winehouse among its more than 1800 total recordings (to date!).

5)      Bing Crosby: While it’d thus be hard to argue that a single 1926 song has been more influential than the Gershwins’s, I’d say that the first recording from one of the 20^th century’s most iconic voices and entertainers has to be in the competition as well. And we got that in 1926 as well, with Don Clark and his Hotel Biltmore Orchestra’s “I’ve Got the Girl,” featuring none other than Bing Crosby (all of 22 years old) on vocals. The future of American music was heard all over the place in 1926!

Last historic anniversary tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think?

January 7, 2026: 2026 Anniversaries: Published in 1876

[The start of a new year means my annual series on historic anniversaries. Leading up to a weekend post on some of what I’m planning for my Spring semester sabbatical!]

For their 150^th anniversary, five distinct but interconnected literary works published during the Centennial year.

1)      Sidney Lanier’s “Centennial Cantata”: As I briefly highlighted in that hyperlinked post, Lanier was a Confederate veteran as well as a poet, and the invitation to write the opening poem for the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia was thus a striking and telling one. But unlike the second text I’ll highlight, Lanier’s poem took a decidedly unifying tone, from its hope that all Americans would “Toil, and forgive, and kiss o’er, and replight” to its final image of the opening ceremony’s “music…waving the world’s best lover’s welcome to the world.”

2)      James D. Lynch’s “Robert E. Lee, or Heroes of the South”: I included Lynch’s poetry in that weeklong blog series on Confederate memory because his works took and reflect a very different tone from Lanier’s Cantata. Before turning to poetry the Confederate veteran Lynch was a neo-Confederate lawyer in Reconstruction Mississippi, and his first published poem “Robert E. Lee” extended that work in particularly subtle and insidious ways, portraying the Confederate general as an epic hero whom all Americans should admire and celebrate.

3)      Herman Melville’s Clarel: A Poem and Pilgrimage in the Holy Land: Melville was no Confederate, as his excellent book of Civil War poetry Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War (1866) makes very clear. And his complex and multilayered epic poem Clarel is mostly not about the U.S. at all, focusing on his titular character’s literal and spiritual journey through the Middle East and his own faith. But the poem’s fourth and final part, “Bethlehem,” does feature as an important supporting character Ungar, a mixed-race (white and Native American) Confederate veteran exploring his own past and faith on the pilgrimage. Clarel is fascinated by Ungar, a small but significant reminder of the appeal of such perspectives in 1876 America.

4)      Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Tom Sawyer: Twain’s first solo novel (he had co-written The Gilded Age with Charles Dudley Warner) is set in the antebellum South, but unlike its sequel Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884) isn’t particularly interested in historical or cultural questions of region and race. But as those two hyperlinks to my Dad’s Mark Twain in His Times website indicate, I’m filially obligated to include Twain’s 1876 publication in this list. And in truth, no American author who dominate the rest of the 19^th century (and in many ways our collective conversations about American literature ever since) like Sam Clemens did.

5)      Sarah Piatt’s That New World: If I was filially obligated to include Twain’s novel, I’m personally obligated to feature a collection from my favorite American poet. That New World doesn’t feature any of my favorite individual Piatt poems, but in every poem it illustrates her unique, dense, and compelling dialogic style, and how she uses it to capture so many layers to parenting and family, marriage and relationships, identity, and more. And while her titular poem doesn’t specifically refer to America, I can’t help but imagine that for a Centennial-year publication Piatt was considering her still young nation as part of her contexts at least.

Next historic anniversary tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think?

January 6, 2026: 2026 Anniversaries: Revolutionary Memory in 1826

[The start of a new year means my annual series on historic anniversaries. Leading up to a weekend post on some of what I’m planning for my Spring semester sabbatical!]

On losses, commemorations, and a moment that captures both as well as their limits.

I tend to want to highlight lesser-known histories as part of these anniversaries series, but some famous moments are just too iconic to ignore. And if we set aside assassinations and other violent deaths, I don’t think there are any deaths in American history more justifiably famous nor more understandably iconic than those of Thomas Jefferson and (just a few hours later) John Adams on July 4^th, 1826. And while it’s a striking coincidence that both men passed on the 50^th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence (or at least of its first public reading; as I’ve noted here before, Adams had made the case for the 2^nd as the real anniversary), I think these joint deaths have remained iconic precisely because they illustrate the passing of the Revolutionary generation and the concurrent need to remember those founding Americans. Just as with the 1990s development of the “Greatest Generation” narrative, it took those five decades and especially their evolving losses to really cement the mythos around the Revolution and its most famous figures.

As Revolutionary War historian and Adams Papers editor L.H. Butterfield argues in this thoughtful 1955 American Heritage article, the nation’s July 4^th commemorations during that 50^th anniversary year were inseparable from those interconnected, symbolic deaths and losses. But at the same time, the “Jubilee” celebrations in both Washington and around the country were also without question a reflection of the nation’s present, and especially of its newly expanded global presence as illustrated by the period’s “Monroe Doctrine.” One of the things I love most about Michael Kammen’s Mystic Chords of Memory: The Transformation of Tradition in American Culture (1991) is how comprehensively he makes the case for commemoration as contemporary commentary—not because it can’t connect to the pasts it officially commemorates, but because it is always something constructed in and for the present and its issues, debates, and needs. While the 1826 Jubilee was certainly related to the life and loss of men like Jefferson and Adams, it was (as Butterfield likewise nicely argues) also and even more clearly related to the life and influence of the current president, John’s son John Quincy Adams.

Not too far from JQA’s Washington, in Alexandria, Virginia, occurred another 1826 moment that connects to both Revolutionary losses and commemorations in complex and crucial ways. During the construction of the new St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church, which was located next to the historic Old Presbyterian Meeting House, the remains of a man in a Continental Army uniform were unearthed. That soldier has never been identified, but thanks to local historian Mary Gregory Powell about a century later the find and spot were turned into a memorial, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier of the American Revolution. That commemoration of a lost soldier, whose remains were discovered in the same year as Jefferson’s and Adams’s passings, offers a powerfully symbolic parallel to the year’s overarching trends and stories. And yet I would also note that it serves as a reminder that the Revolution, like every moment in American history, was defined more by the countless individuals and communities we haven’t remembered well than by the few focal figures who have remained famous and iconic. Of all these 1826 moments, then, I’d single out the unknown soldier as a particularly important one.

Next historic anniversary tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think?

January 5, 2026: 2026 Anniversaries: Reframing 1776

[The start of a new year means my annual series on historic anniversaries. Leading up to a weekend post on some of what I’m planning for my Spring semester sabbatical!]

On three pairs of events that collectively help us complicate our narratives of the Revolution’s most foundational and famous year on its 250^th anniversary.

1)      Moore’s Creek Bridge and Trenton: The December 26^th battle of Trenton, New Jersey is one of the Revolution’s most famous military conflicts, as much for what preceded it (Washington’s crossing of the Delaware that led to a surprise attack on the British Hessian forces) as what followed it (a significant uptick in Continental Army morale and enlistment). But as with most Revolutionary collective memory, the mythos around such moments can limit our fuller understanding of the war and period, and so I think it would be important to complement Trenton with the year’s first military conflict, at North Carolina’s Moore’s Creek Bridge on February 27^th. At that battle, the Revolutionary forces met up against fellow Americans, Loyalist troops and leaders, a significant difference from the mercenary Hessian opponents Washington faced in Trenton. The “sides” in the Revolution were much more multilayered than we often remember, and this second 1776 battle helps us remember that fraught fact.

2)      Common Sense and The Crisis: The contexts for those two 1776 battles also reflect how much had changed during the 10 intervening months. But I’m not sure anything better captures the arc of that tumultuous year than its two publications from the journalist, printer, and activist Thomas Paine. On January 10^th Paine published Common Sense, a persuasive pamphlet in which Paine makes the case for why all Americans should support the incipient (but clearly in Paine’s perspective not quite fully underway, or at least not a given) Revolution. On December 23^rd he published the first of what would be sixteen installments of The American Crisis, a persuasive pamphlet in which Paine makes the case for why all Americans should keep the faith despite significant losses in the now-clearly-established war with England. Even the concept of “Americans” had evolved a great deal between these two texts—in Common Sense it’s an idea for which Paine argues, while in The American Crisis it’s an established identity from the title on.

3)      July 1^st and 4^th: I’m sure I don’t have to say much about July 4^th, and why it (or, pace John Adams, July 2^nd) will occupy such a significant place in our 250^th anniversaries this year. But I’m equally sure that almost no Americans, this AmericanStudier admittedly included, have thought much at all about the Revolutionary conflict that began on July 1^st, 1776, when Cherokee warriors (with the support of the British) attacks American settlements on the new nation’s western frontier. Known as the Cherokee War, this conflict would continue until the spring of 1777, when the Cherokee signed a May 20^th peace treaty with officials from four states. Over the last few months I’ve been gradually reading Ned Blackhawk’s magisterial The Rediscovery of America: Native Peoples and the Unmaking of U.S. History (2023), and I agree with Blackhawk that our memories and narratives of events like the Revolution won’t be complete until we can make histories like the Cherokee War far more central to them.

Next historic anniversary tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think?

January 2, 2026: Year in Review: Dad

[The end of 2025 means another Year in Review blog series, AmericanStudying a handful of the year’s biggest stories. I’d love your 2025 reflections in comments!]

Ten months ago today, I said goodbye to my Dad. I had the chance to say a lot of what I’d most want to say about him in this obituary, this Saturday Evening Post column, and this blog anniversary tribute post, and would ask you all to check out all three of those if you would. But I couldn’t write a Year in Review blog series and not include him, and I want to do so through three relatively quick but very heartfelt points that are quite distinct in both subject and tone:

1)      I’ll start with the saddest. As I wrote in that hyperlinked Post column as well as this prior one on my folks, my Dad both embodied and worked for the best of America throughout his life and his career. It will never not be incredibly frustrating and painful to me that he passed with Donald Motherfucking Trump as president, and indeed that the November 2024 election was one of the last major events he was able to really focus on. I thought I already appreciated all the layers to the Chinese curse “May you live in interesting times,” but losing a loved one in such times—and, again, a loved one who was so potently connected to all things AmericanStudies, including of course every element of this AmericanStudier—comprises another layer still. I don’t generally swear on this blog, but when it’s warranted I will, so I’ll say it once more, with feeling: Fuck Donald Motherfucking Trump.

2)      Now for the happiest (mostly). My Dad passed a month and a bit before his grandson Kyle made his college decision, so he didn’t get to find out that Kyle was headed to the University of Michigan. But he was well aware of and had a significant role in Kyle’s college search, just as he did for his older grandson Aidan’s journey to ending up at Vanderbilt University. My wife Vaughn, who through schedule flexibility but also and especially her incredible generosity and care was able to spend the last couple weeks of my Dad’s life with him and my Mom, has noted many times that he talked about nothing more frequently nor more happily in those difficult times than his grandsons and their incredibly bright futures. I believe it, and the thought has given me great pleasure over these last 10 months.

3)      Finally, the most relevant to this space. Writing this blog day in and day out (well, I now write and schedule in batches as I’ve discussed elsewhere in this space, but you know what I mean) is not always easy, and I’ll admit that there have been moments where I’ve wondered if I should wind it down. But as I noted in that hyperlinked anniversary post, my Dad was this blog’s first and most loyal and responsive reader (yes, even more so than my awesome colleague Irene Martyniuk!). The thoughts he shared in response to so many of my posts consistently inspired me to keep going—and even though I will never quite get used to the idea that he’s not reading each one now, I’m also good with that because that idea makes me even more committed to continuing to do and share this kind of work. See you right here in the (continuing) New Year!

December Recap this weekend,

Ben

PS. What do you think? 2025 stories you’d highlight?

January 1, 2026: Year in Review: Rejuvenated Blockbusters

[The end of 2025 means another Year in Review blog series, AmericanStudying a handful of the year’s biggest stories. I’d love your 2025 reflections in comments!]

On four films that together suggest positive ways forward for the endangered Hollywood blockbuster.

I’ve already dedicated an entire blog series to my favorite film of the year, Ryan Coogler’s Sinners. I won’t repeat all that I (and the other awesome folks highlighted in that weekend post) had to say about it, but I’ll just add that the film is as innovative in its financing and production as it is in every other aspect of its filmmaking, and thus (as one of the most profitable movies of the year) certainly can be a model for other films and filmmakers.

I’d be the first to admit that most blockbusters are not like Sinners, though, and I don’t expect that to change significantly going forward (although I hope we do get more like it!). So I think it’s worth noting that three more conventional 2025 blockbusters, all three in the top ten highest grossing films of the year, also represent fresh and thoughtful takes on those conventions. I’ve been on board with the Mission: Impossible films for a long time, but even as a card-carrying fan of the series (other than the John Woo-directed second installment, which is just not very good) I was blown away by Mission: Impossible—The Final Reckoning. Partly that was how perfectly it wrapped up the entire series, engaging with the past without being beholden to or limited by it (which is a great model for both franchise and action films, I’d say). But partly it was the film’s final messages (delivered by the series’ best character, Ving Rhames’s Luther) of (SPOILERS aplenty here) what we owe to each other in our global world, of why and how not only Ethan Hunt and his compatriots, but also all the rest of us, have to fight for the best of our future—even, indeed especially, when we’re not sure there’s any hope.

I know not everyone is as big a fan of the MI films, but I don’t think any filmgoer would disagree with the argument that the most tired genre of blockbusters in recent years has been the superhero film (or texts in general, as there’s been a plethora of TV shows too of course). So no one was more surprised than me when my second favorite cinematic experience of the year was Superman, and pretty high on the list as well was The Fantastic Four: First Steps. I could go into lots of specifics why the first was so great (a balance of heart and humor, a serious dose of political and social commentary delivered with a deft touch, a damned adorable dog) and the second much better than I expected (the creation and exploration of a fully-realized retrofuturistic world in particular), but at the end of the day, I’d boil it down to this: both films felt that they were made because the creators had a vision for what they hoped to do, not because these were existing Ips that would make a quick buck from audiences. If films are gonna keep leaning into such IPs (and it seems clear that they are), these two represent great models for how that can still result in enjoyable and successful movies.

Last reflections tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think? 2025 stories you’d highlight?