Columbia University Press
272 Pages
Whenever there is a new book about the Erie Canal out on the shelves, I always grab it. I grew up in Erie Canal Country. The famous Flight of Five locks at Lockport are less than a mile from my house. When I was a youngster, it was a treat to have to wait for the bridge (despite my dad’s grumbling), and it was a bigger treat to get to drive over the “high bridge” in Medina rather than waiting for the lift bridge. It was my interest in the waterway that defines my hometown that deepened my interest in local history, especially that of the Erie Canal. So, when I saw The Raging Erie on the shelf at the Lockport Public Library, I had to adopt it for three weeks and bring it home.
From the cover, I was intrigued. The subtitle, “Life and Labor along the Erie Canal,” was something that had barely been touched upon. I love stories of the human plight, and I don’t shy away from the ugly. History is made from the good, the bad, and the ugly. To ignore any part of that equation is a disservice to the people who came before us. For many decades, only the positive sides of the digging of the Erie Canal were explored. Here was a chance to get in the dirt, so to speak, and find out how the other half lived. I was sorely disappointed.
Mark Ferrara’s introduction to this book set goals that were admirable and gave me high hopes for the rest of this book. Unfortunately, the introduction was the high point, and the rest of the chapters did not live up to it, nor to the title on the front of the book. One of the passages in the introduction was one that really pulled me into the book:
In The Raging Erie, I have sought to capture the localized character of early to mid-nineteenth century New York life by exploring the social and economic circumstances of ordinary poor and working class people --- and the Erie Canal is an ideal site for such an inquiry.
These words were an inspiration to continue to read this book, and, hopefully, learn more about the lesser known and barely known aspects of early canal life in New York State. However, this book should not be considered a scholarly work of the Erie Canal. Rather, it is a series of vignettes with a tangential connection to the canal, at best. The amusingly annoying part of Ferrara’s work was that he barely touched upon the local aspect of these lives, instead, drawing broad generalizations with anemic snippets of local flair. He speaks of sweeping changes in law across the state without explaining the history of the legislation. Instead, he connects it, without evidence, as part of the evils of the Erie Canal.
Additionally, other parts of his history are tenuous. Near the beginning of the book, he explains some of the land control in the western part of New York State. Massachusetts and New York both claimed rights to lands west of Seneca Lake. After some legal wrangling, the Treaty of Hartford in 1786 determined that the Senecas controlled the land, but that Massachusetts held the pre-emptive rights. Those rights were purchased by Oliver Gorham and Nathaniel Phelps -- the Phelps & Gorham Purchase. Monetary issues forced them to default and have to sell their rights to Robert Morris. This purchase was sold down in smaller increments, but the largest sale Morris made was to a group of Dutch investors in 1792, who called themselves the Holland Land Company. Ferrara misses all the steps in the intervening seven years, which may not seem like a lot to the layperson, but it is an extremely important part of our local history.
Ferrara continues to put together an adequate tale of woe for the working poor. However, he almost completely ignores his “localized character” throughout the entire book. As for the Erie Canal, he details the tragedies and maladies of these people, and then adds in the canal as an afterthought. Almost nothing he details shows a direct connection to the Erie Canal other than by his own supposition. Likewise, his addition to the canal seems to be an “Oh, yeah, the canal is evil” moment.
I have a couple of other issues with Ferrara’s book. His usage of the Erie Canal as part of the title is definitely less a history of the canal and more for the marketing aspect. With the bicentennial of the waterway well underway, slipping “Erie Canal” into a title will dupe a captive audience into thinking that’s what this book is about. It is unfortunate because Ferrara has a book basis for a real book on the plight of working poor in the state.
One of my biggest issues with this book is that the author falls into the modern malaise of catering to narrow minded publishing houses who are more concerned with not offending their prospective audiences than with delivering a quality product. I will grant you that for most of the last two centuries, our histories have been slanted and biased. However, in an effort to overcome that, the trend today is to do a 180 degree flop, telling only the opposite side. Frankly, these efforts are just as slanted and biased as the previous works. Instead, a fuller, richer story of our history could be obtained by combining the two sides, detailing the good, the bad and the ugly, and drawing them into a cohesive narrative. Instead, the new trend continues to alienate and cater to those who want a specific message rather than the whole truth. As an historian, it drives me crazy that we can’t tell all sides of a story.
Ferrara fails to capitalize on his localized character aspect at almost every turn. He writes a great deal about women’s suffrage, but fails to mention Belva Lockwood, of Gasport, another canal town. She not only ran for president in 1884 and 1888, but was also the first woman to argue a case before the US Supreme Court. Likewise, he tells the plight of African-Americans in New York State, but fails to mention Aaron Mossell and his family, and their successful efforts to desegregate local schools a full fifty years before Brown v Board of Education. He does not mention that Mossell, a Black man, owned the largest brickyard in Lockport, or that he ran the most successful hotel in the city during the 1870s, for both Black and White guests. He also fails to mention William Childs, a Niagara Falls businessman who left his fortune to a school in North Carolina for Black students so that they could prosper. Instead, Ferrara continues the divisive narrative that even the “abolitionists had their own thoughts” on the plight of the former slaves and their families. He fails in his efforts to capture the local spirit.
While Mark Ferrara is an acclaimed professor of English at SUNY Oneonta, his grasp of local history is elusive, especially considering his reliance on using only two libraries for his primary research, neither of which are in canal communities. He did not visit the archives of local historians, nor historical societies, thus entirely missing his efforts of localized character. As I stated before, this is not a scholarly work. Instead, it seems more like a chance to fulfill a professorial publishing credit while capitalizing on the observation of a significant anniversary of the founding of the Erie Canal. While I do admire his writing style, his history leaves me with more questions. His prose is well articulated. It’s too bad his history isn’t.
I suppose that I could recommend Mark S. Ferrara’s The Raging Erie on the basis of his excellent writing style. However, I cannot recommend it as a book to read if you’re looking for history of the Erie Canal. It is lacking, slanted, and overall a dissatisfying read on an historical level. He does make a fantastic point that the plights of these people, these mostly nameless canal workers, need to be explored, researched and written about. If this book entices another historian to do so, then Ferrara has moved the needle in the right direction.
Craig Bacon is an historian who will read just about anything he can about the Erie Canal. He is a stickler for well researched history.