Teachers -- Colorado -- Biography. |
Education -- Colorado -- History -- 20th century. |
Woodruff, Dorothy |
Underwood, Rosamond |
Faculty (Education) |
Instructors |
School teachers |
Schoolteachers |
Children -- Education |
Education, Primitive |
Education of children |
Human resource development |
Instruction |
Pedagogy |
Schooling |
Students -- Education |
Youth -- Education |
Available:
Library | Shelf Number | Shelf Location | Status |
---|---|---|---|
Searching... Dartmouth - Southworth | 371.1 WIC 2012 | NONFICTION | Searching... Unknown |
Searching... Fairhaven-Millicent | 371.1 WIC 2011 | NONFICTION | Searching... Unknown |
Searching... Foxboro - Boyden Library | 371.1 WICKENDEN | NONFICTION | Searching... Unknown |
Searching... New Bedford Francis J. Lawler Branch | 371.1 WIC 2012 | NONFICTION | Searching... Unknown |
Searching... Raynham Library | 920 WIC | BIOGRAPHY | Searching... Unknown |
Searching... Richards Memorial Library | 371.1 W632 | NONFICTION | Searching... Unknown |
Searching... Somerset Public Library | 371.1 WIC 2011 | NONFICTION | Searching... Unknown |
Searching... Taunton Public Library | 978.8092 W6363N | 3RD FLOOR STACKS | Searching... Unknown |
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Summary
Summary
This exhilarating saga about two intrepid young women who leave the affluence of their New York home to teach school on the Western frontier in 1916 is authentically created using actual letters home and interviews with descendants.
Dorothy Woodruff and Rosamond Underwood attended grade school and Smith College together, spent nine months on a grand tour of Europe in 1910, and then, bored with society luncheons and chaperoned balls and not yet ready for marriage, they went off to teach the children of homesteaders in a remote schoolhouse on the Western Slope of Colorado. They traveled on the new railroad over the Continental Divide and by wagon to Elkhead, a tiny settlement far from the nearest town. Their students came to school from miles away in tattered clothes and shoes tied together with string.
Dorothy Woodruff was the grandmother of New Yorker executive editor Dorothy Wickenden. Nearly one hundred years later, Wickenden found the buoyant, detailed, colorful letters the two women wrote to their families. Through them, she has chronicled their trials in the classroom, the cowboys and pioneering women they met, and the violent kidnapping of a close friend. Central to their narrative is Ferry Carpenter, the witty, idealistic, and occasionally outrageous young lawyer and cattle rancher who hired them, in part because he thought they would make attractive and cultivated brides. None of them imagined the transforming effect the year would have--on the children, the families, and the teachers.
Wickenden set out on her own journey to discover what two intrepid Eastern women found when they went West, and what America was like at that uncertain moment, with the country poised for the First World War, but going through its own period of self-discovery.
Drawing upon the letters, interviews with descendants, research about these vanished communities, and trips to the region, Wickenden creates a compelling, original saga about the two intrepid young women and the "settling up" of the West.
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
On July 24, 1916, the Syracuse Daily Journal printed the headline: "Society Girls Go to Wilds of Colorado." The two young women were Dorothy Woodruff and Rosamond Underwood, recent graduates of Smith College who, in order to defy their family's expectation of marriage, sought work in the small town of Hayden, Colo. Woodruff was the grandmother of New Yorker executive editor Wickenden, who herself becomes a central character in an informative and engaging narrative. Using letters from her grandmother, newspaper articles, and interviews with descendants, Wickenden retells how Woodruff and Underwood traveled to the newly settled state of Colorado to teach at a ramshackle grade school. The book offers a wide cross-section of life in the American West, but the core of the story is the girls' slow adaptation to a society very different from the one in which they were raised, and their evolution from naive but idealistic and open-minded society girls to strong-willed and pragmatic women who later married and raised families in the midst of the Great Depression. Wickenden brings to life two women who otherwise might have been lost to history and who took part in creating the modern-day West. Photos. (June) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Kirkus Review
A detailed study of two spirited and privileged young women who unexpectedly became a small part of the history of the American West.Rosamund Underwood and Dorothy Woodruff, both Smith College graduates, spent their 20s traveling to Europe and Manhattan and pouring tea for suffragettes at home in Auburn, N.Y. Nearing 30, they were becoming restless and, longing to do useful and interesting work, applied to become teachers in the small community of Elkhead, Colo. New Yorker executive editor Wickenden, Woodruff's granddaughter, relates their experiences with a vivid, gossipy flair, and readers get an excellent sense of what everyday life was like, not only for the privileged and highly educated, but for the mine worker, the homesteader, the elementary-school teacher. However, readers expecting a straightforward, linear narrative will be baffled by the sinuous curve of the story as it makes switchbacks and loops, like the much-discussed Moffat Road Railroad. In fact, the momentous first day of school for the young teachers doesn't arrive until halfway through the book. The earlier material covers their journey to Elkhead, their childhood and college years and their extensive domestic and international travel. The author's frequent diversions into local and national history demand careful attention, and they might delight one reader but bore another. Wickenden defers the discussion of the women's marriages until two-thirds of the way through the book, which both prioritizes their accomplishments and entices the reader. We know at the outset that Dorothy has children, and this knowledge pulls us gently through the narrative's many turns.An absorbing maze of a bookreaders may well, like Woodruff and Underwood, find their hearts lost to the West.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
New York Review of Books Review
IN the spring of 1916, two society girls from Auburn,, N.Y. - Smith graduates who, having already done a European tour, were iffy about charity work but picky about husbands - found by chance the answer to the question of what to do with themselves. A lady who'd come for tea mentioned a friend who had a brother, a Princeton man, who was looking for two college-educated women to teach at a schoolhouse he'd built with his neighbors in the Elkhead Mountains of Colorado. Instantly, both knew they wanted to go. One of them, Dorothy Woodruff, was the grandmother of Dorothy Wickenden. And in "Nothing Daunted," Wickenden has painstakingly recreated the story of how that earlier Dorothy and her friend Rosamond Underwood embarked on a brief but life-changing adventure, teaching the children of struggling homesteaders. Mining a trove of letters as well as oral histories and period documents, including an autobiography published by their employer, Farrington (Ferry) Carpenter, Wickenden lets their tale of personal transformation open out to reveal the larger changes in the rough-and-tumble society of the West - "a back story," as she aptly puts it, "to America's leap into the 20th century." On both ends there were parties who needed convincing. The girls' parents had to be reassured of the relative safety of the plan. Carpenter wanted to know about their gumption. "Will they take the grief that goes with such a job," he wondered, "and have they the pep to shed it off and go right on like nothing happened?" Yes and yes: The two women from whom nothing much had ever been expected proved unfailingly cheerful and open-minded, beginning with the long train journey to Elkhead, which culminated on the treacherous Moffat Road (the hair-raising history of which Wickenden pauses to tell, noting that it's "still the highest standard-gauge railroad ever built in North America"). Ros and Dorothy even loved their drafty, cramped lodgings with the surprisingly well-educated Harrison family and relished the two-mile trip on horseback to school each day, sometimes through snow as high as the horses' withers. "You simply can't conceive of the newness of this country," Dorothy wrote home. The women improvised their way into teaching, nervous and unaware, Wickenden writes, of the "awe with which college-educated teachers in such far-flung areas were regarded." They were alternately smitten and exasperated by the children, and amazed at their own capacity to rise to an occasion. Later, both looked back on their year in Elkhead as the best time in their lives. As the months went by, their confidence grew as they toured a coal mine owned by their new friend Bob Perry; traveled to Steamboat Springs to take their state teaching exams; visited the Rocky Mountain Dancing Club, the first performing-arts camp in the country; and attended a raucous all-night party for Carpenter's birthday. At one point, Perry was kidnapped by disgruntled miners, providing thrilling fodder for letters home. Known in Denver as "the wild country," Elkhead was a kind of last-chance outpost for settlers taking advantage of the 1862 Homestead Act, the government's offer of up to 160 acres to anyone willing to stake a claim in the untamed West. The area's Ute Indians had been "dispensed with" by the Army, force-marched to a desolate patch of Utah, but the land itself was barely habitable. (Today Elkhead has just three year-round residents.) The Harrisons arrived there only after their cattle ranch in a more fertile nearby valley had failed. Elkhead, Wickenden explains, was "covered by snow for six months of the year" and springtime brought nearly impassable mud. The homesteaders' children had had little schooling; many lacked basic necessities like warm clothes and shoes. But thanks to Ferry Carpenter, who had worked on a ranch during his summer breaks from college and had staked his claim on his 21st birthday, the schoolhouse became an inspirational community center. Carpenter emerges as a fascinating character, both high-minded and practical, generous and self-interested. "I felt that this remarkable system of land distribution," he later wrote, "was the keystone to the success of American democracy." Neither Dorothy nor Ros comes across as an exceptional personality, yet they were clearly ready for something more than the staid milieu upstate New York had on offer. Even their well-chaperoned grand tour of Europe, while eye-opening, was not life-changing. (At Amiens Cathedral, we learn, in one of many unexciting anecdotes, Dorothy looked up at the ceiling and "my head went back, my hat dropped off - in my hurry I had come away without any hatpins.") The romance of the West was the perfect medicine. Wickenden, who is the executive editor of The New Yorker, begins and ends the book by describing her own efforts to round up the sources of the story, but her writerly presence is restrained, even a bit stiff. For the most part, she lets her material speak for itself, so the effect of reading the book is almost like visiting a museum. The tale of Dorothy and Ros is often gently put to the side while Wickenden explains, say, what's involved in the process of coal mining or the ins and outs of licensing teachers in early-20th-century Colorado. "Nothing Daunted" is pretty much the polar opposite of Jeannette Walls's "Half Broke Horses," which presents an account of Walls's own grandmother's rugged life in the West in an emotional, freewheeling fictional form. Wickenden doesn't seem overly concerned with the interior lives of her subjects. More than halfway through the book, for example, as you're wondering how Dorothy felt about the fact that Carpenter and Perry were openly competing for Ros's affections, Wickenden reveals that Dorothy was already secretly spoken for when the two women arrived in Colorado. Yet there's often a surprising imaginative power in Wickenden's approach. At its best, this book can recall Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's classic "A Midwife's Tale," which pioneered the method of teasing out an expansive story from the record of "unremarkable" women's daily lives. Individual scenes emerge with a lovely, almost pointillist clarity - like a Christmas party at the schoolhouse in the midst of a blizzard, with rustic dancing and gifts for the dazzled children sent by Dorothy's and Ros's families - while we never lose track of the larger forces at work, including the removal of the Indians and the brutal fights for mining and railroad riches. Although Wickenden's gaze remains steadily on her well-to-do subjects, she makes us aware of the human and environmental toll of the homesteader's life. In the end, the community that gathered around the Elkhead schoolhouse was short-lived as families moved to friendlier terrain. But perhaps something about its improbability brought out the best in many people, so it seems fitting that the schoolhouse became the centerpiece of this book, a historical rescue effort as impressive in its way as Dorqthy and Ros's adventure a century earlier. Maria Russo is a frequent contributor to the Book Review.
Library Journal Review
Wickenden (executive editor, The New Yorker) shares the story of her grandmother Dorothy Woodruff, who, along with close personal friend Rosamond Underwood, spent nine months teaching at a remote settlement school in northwestern Colorado in the early 20th century. This highly personalized and meticulously researched account is more than a simple family history: it tells a great backstory about American development in those years, an "alternative western," in Wickenden's words. These rich and well-educated young society women, tired of social conventions and frustrated by suffrage work, came face to face with another America in the years before World War I-one that was poor, diverse, remote, lacking in modern conveniences, occasionally violent, and yet spectacularly beautiful and "new." Although far from being a scholarly account, the story here adds to our understanding of the complexity of women's experiences in presuffrage America. As college students today do transformative volunteer work worldwide, so, too, did these two young women. Their lovingly preserved letters richly demonstrate how in seeking to assist others they also changed themselves. VERDICT Recommended for general readers interested in the development of the American West, teachers, and those seeking contributions by women to history. [See Prepub Alert, 12/20/10.]-Marie Marmo Mullaney, Caldwell Coll., NJ (c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.