National Portrait Gallery | Face to Face blog

Robert Frost: Modern American Poet

Every Thursday evening, the National Portrait Gallery presents Face-to-Face, a talk about a selected portrait on view in the gallery. As part of this series, NPG historian David Ward discussed this bronze bust of poet Robert Frost. This sculpture, by Walker Kirtland Hancock, is on view in the exhibition “20th-Century Americans,” on the museum’s third floor.

Robert Frost was one of the few modern American poets who combined critical with popular acclaim. His best poetry was written in the 1920s and 1930s, as America was discovering its national and regional histories. Frost’s poems about rural life in New England—“West Running Brook” and “Birches,” for example—struck a chord because they were readable, yet imbued with larger questions about human nature, mortality, and man’s fate.

Frost liked to play the naive rustic, but he was a dedicated craftsman and America’s last great formalist poet. Criticizing modern poetry, he said that writing poems without structure was like “playing tennis without a net.”

The next Face-to-Face portrait talk is this Thursday, October 2, when NPG historian Sidney Hart will discuss Robert Kennedy. The talk runs from 6:00 to 6:30 p.m. Visitors meet the presenter in the museum’s F Street lobby and then walk to the appropriate gallery.

Listen to David Ward's Face-to-Face talk on Robert Frost (36:18)

Robert Lee Frost/Walker Kirtland Hancock, 1969 cast after 1950 original/Bronze/National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of the artist

William Faulkner, born September 25, 1897

Today is the 111th anniversary of William Faulkner's birth.

William Faulkner is one of eleven Americans to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature.  In Gustaf Hellstrom’s presentation address to the Swedish Academy in 1950, he said, “Faulkner . . . is not fascinated by men as a community but by man in the community, the individual as a final unity in himself, curiously unmoved by external conditions. . . . But Faulkner has one belief, or rather one hope: that every man sooner or later receives the punishment he deserves and that self-sacrifice not only brings with it personal happiness but also adds to the sum total of the good deeds of mankind.”

In his acceptance speech, Faulkner summarized what he believed to be the condition of man:

"I decline to accept the end of man.  It is enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last dingdong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking.  I refuse to accept this.  I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail.  He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.  The poet’s, the writer’s, duty is to write about these things.  It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past.  The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail."

Faulkner’s novels include The Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, and Intruder in the Dust, novels that tell the story of the American South many decades after the Civil War.  Faulkner’s South struggles to reinvent itself as an economically and culturally viable region, and the families of his imaginary town seat of Jefferson, within the equally imaginary Yoknapatawpha County, are families whose respective sagas reflect their collective fight against poverty, change, and loss of legacy.

William Faulkner was born in New Albany, Mississippi on September 25, 1897, and died on July 6, 1962, in Oxford, Mississippi.

Faulkner's former home "Rowan Oak" in Oxford, Mississippi (photo by Warren Perry).

Faulkner's grave (left) in St. Peter's Cemetery, Oxford, Mississippi. He is buried next to his wife, Estelle (photo by Warren Perry).  

William Cuthbert Faulkner/Robert Vickrey,, 1964/National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of Time magazine   

Edwin Booth: Accomplished Actor and Brother of John Wilkes

As part of the National Portrait Gallery’s regular series, “Face-to-Face,” program assistant Maya Foo presented a talk on Edwin Booth, a famous nineteenth-century actor and the brother of John Wilkes Booth, the man who shot Abraham Lincoln. “Face-to-Face” takes place every Thursday evening at NPG from 6:00 to 6:30 p.m., each week spotlighting a different portrait in the museum galleries.

One of the leading tragedians of his time, Edwin Booth was born into a family of actors and first played minor parts in productions featuring his father, Junius Brutus Booth. After honing his craft in theatrical companies on the West Coast, Edwin Booth returned east in 1857, where a series of triumphant appearances secured his reputation and launched a long and respected career.

Unfortunately, Booth’s success in the theater was punctuated by profound personal tragedy. In 1863, the sudden death of his beloved wife left him to care for their young daughter, Edwina (pictured). Two years later, his brother, John Wilkes Booth, assassinated Abraham Lincoln, driving Edwin into temporary retirement. His career revived, however, when he returned to the stage in 1866, and shortly thereafter he opened his own handsomely appointed theater in New York.

This 1864 photograph of Edwin Booth and his daughter Edwina was taken by the Mathew Brady Studio and produced as a carte de visite—a sort of trading card and celebrity collectable. The portrait is on view in NPG’s “American Origins” exhibition, on the museum’s first floor. 

The next “Face-to-Face” portrait talk is this Thursday, September 25, when NPG historian David Ward will discuss Robert Frost. The talk runs from 6:00 to 6:30 p.m. Visitors meet the presenter in the museum’s F Street lobby and then walk to the appropriate gallery.

Listen to Maya Foo's Face-to-Face talk on Edwin Booth (10:30)

Edwin Booth and daughter Edwina/Mathew Brady Studio, 1864/Modern albumen print from wet plate collodion negative/National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

Ernie Pyle: World War II Journalist

Every Thursday evening, the National Portrait Gallery presents Face-to-Face, a talk about a selected portrait on view in the gallery. As part of this regular series, NPG historian Jim Barber discussed this 1944 bronze bust of World War II journalist Ernie Pyle. This sculpture, by Jo Davidson, is on view in the exhibition “20th-Century Americans” on the museum’s third floor.

During World War II, John Steinbeck noted that there were two conflicts being reported in the press. The one getting the most attention was about grand strategy and generals, and the other was the war of the common soldier. No journalist told that latter story more poignantly than Ernie Pyle. His chronicling of the enlisted man’s discomforts, terrors, and heroism touched civilians and G.I.s alike. By 1944, he was as much a war hero as any combat medal winner.

When Pyle died while covering the taking of the Pacific island Ie Shima, soldiers marked the spot with a sign declaring that they had “lost a buddy.”

The next Face-to-Face portrait talk is this Thursday, September 18, when NPG researcher Warren Perry will discuss F. Scott Fitzgerald.  The talk runs from 6:00 to 6:30 p.m. Visitors meet the presenter in the museum’s F Street lobby and then walk to the appropriate gallery.

Listen to Jim Barber's Face-to-Face talk on Ernie Pyle (9:04) 

 

Ernie Pyle/Jo Davidson, 1944/National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of Dr. Maury Leibovitz

Ernie Pyle/Milton J. Pike , 1943/National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of Rolland White

Anne Catharine Green: A Colonial Lady at the Newspaper Helm

Precious few are the portraits of colonial newspaper editors, that blessed band who did so much to pave the way toward American independence.

Of equal rarity are images of the handful of colonial women who rated distinction on their own merit. On two counts then, Charles Willson Peale’s depiction of Anne Catharine Green (c. 1720–1775)—editor of the Maryland Gazette and public printer to the province of Maryland—is a portrait of unusual interest. This portrait is on view at the National Portrait Gallery, in the museum’s “American Origins” exhibition on the first floor. 

Born in Holland, Anne Catharine Hoof married former Benjamin Franklin apprentice Jonas Green in 1738. She moved with him to Annapolis, where he became printer to the province and in 1745 revived the defunct Maryland Gazette. Her husband’s printing office (the site of an archeological dig in the 1980s) was behind their dwelling, which still stands on Charles Street. Mrs. Green, in addition to bearing fourteen children (six of whom lived to grow up), was a participant in her husband’s business affairs, capable of carrying them on should the need arise.

Jonas Green died on April 11, 1767, and his widow, noting that she was “almost destitute of Support,” told subscribers to the Gazette “I flatter myself, that, with your kind Indulgence and Encouragement,” she would continue the newspaper and stood ready to print advertisements. Fulfilling her husband’s contract with the government, she saw to it that the Acts and Votes and Proceedings of the Maryland Assembly was finished, as promised, by the last day of April. (A year later, she would be awarded the contract in her own name.)

The widow Green began her tenure when the colonies were in political ferment over the Townshend duties imposed on glass, lead, painter’s colors, paper, and tea; death ended her task a month before shots rang out on Lexington Green. In addition to providing national and foreign news, she gave space to all parties in local controversies, undeterred by a threat to wreck her press. Looking beyond polemics, she instigated a “Poet's Corner” and, despite the torrent of political happenings, managed to wedge in essays on topics such as the advantage of a liberal education.

Anne Catharine Green’s obituary, published in the March 30, 1775, edition of the Maryland Gazette, identified her as the widow of the late Mr. Jonas Greene, lauding her only as a wife and mother: “She was of a mild and benevolent Disposition, and for conjugal Affection and parental Tenderness, an Example of her Sex.” But Charles Willson Peale—showing her not with a book or a flower or needlework, but rather with her newspaper in hand—indicates that she was a professional woman as well.

Anne Catharine Hoof Green by Charles Willson Peale (1741–1827), oil on canvas, 1769. Gallery purchase with funding from the Smithsonian Collections Acquisitions Program and gift from the Governor’s Mansion Foundation of Maryland

KATE: Hail and Farewell!

The National Portrait Gallery’s “One Life: KATE, A Centennial Celebration” is closing soon, so be sure to see the exhibition before September 28, its final day. In this blog post, NPG’s Amy Henderson, curator of “KATE,” bids farewell to this centennial celebration of Katharine Hepburn’s birth.

Katharine Hepburn was right—she was absolutely fascinating. She proved that again and again this year as “KATE” was visited by throngs of enthusiastic audiences. People clearly enjoyed seeing her four Best Actress Oscars, but I think they were particularly drawn by the wonderfully affectionate portrait by Everett Raymond Kinstler (above) that Hepburn deemed her “favorite.”

The ratty red sweater also had its fans, who understood with me that that well-worn personal artifact lent the exhibition something “real” of her spirit. And I was delighted to see how carefully visitors read the labels, most of which used Hepburn’s own words and resonated with her personality.

Oh, did I mention the color red, her favorite color?! The exhibition was a red showcase of Kate Color, instantly drawing the visitor onto the Hepburn stage.

One of the things that touched me most was a young student from Duke Ellington School of the Arts who used “KATE” as her selection for the Portrait Gallery’s 2008 Portraits Alive! program this summer. Chelsea Harrison, a marvelously talented actor, suffused herself into Hepburn’s personality and created a jaw-dropping characterization that left her audience (me among them) in awe. You could almost hear Hepburn chortling somewhere, saying “See? I told you I was fascinating….”

 

Katharine Hepburn/Everett Raymond Kinstler, 1982/Oil on canvas/National Portrait Gallery; gift of Everett Raymond Kinstler/© 1982 Everett Raymond Kinstler

Dorie Miller: Above and Beyond the Call of Duty

Every Thursday evening, the National Portrait Gallery presents “Face-to-Face,” a portrait talk about a selected portrait on view in the gallery. As part of this regular series, NPG historian James Barber discussed a poster portrait of World War II navy hero Dorie Miller. You can see this portrait in the museum's exhibition, “Ballyhoo! Posters as Portraiture” through February 8, 2009. 

Born on Columbus Day 1919, Doris “Dorie” Miller grew up in Waco, Texas, where he played fullback on the high school football team. In September 1939, he enlisted in the U.S. Navy as a mess attendant, third class.  The following January he was assigned to the battleship USS West Virginia and soon became the ship’s heavyweight boxing champion. Miller was aboard the West Virginia at Pearl Harbor during the Japanese attack on December 7, 1941. He was assigned to help carry wounded sailors on deck to safer locations before taking control of an unattended antiaircraft gun, which he loaded and fired at enemy planes until he ran out of ammunition.

For his bravery, Dorie Miller was awarded the Navy Cross, becoming the first African-American sailor to win this high honor. In 1942, he was recruited to go on tour to sell war bonds, and his name and face became well known. Miller, later a messman on the USS Liscombe Bay, was killed when the aircraft carrier sank in the Pacific in November 1943.

This 1943 poster of Miller by David Stone Martin was based on a photograph and was used by the Navy as a recruiting poster.

For more on posters visit the online exhibition for “Ballyhoo! Posters As Portraiture” and view the audio slideshow below, narrated by the exhibition’s curator, Wendy Wick Reaves. 

Dorie Miller/David Stone Martin, 1943/Color photolithographic poster with halftone/National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

Rachel Carson: Biologist, Writer, Ecologist

In a 1962 Life magazine profile of Rachel Carson (1907–1964), the former government biologist claimed “no wish to start a Carrie Nation crusade” with the publication of her new book, Silent Spring. A private and soft-spoken individual, Carson possessed a temperament wholly different than that of the famous hatchet-wielding temperance leader.

Yet in envisioning a future where the sounds of spring are absent, Silent Spring provoked a heated controversy about the unrestricted use of chemical pesticides. Her writings—and later congressional testimony—would lead not only to the banning of DDT and other poisonous agents, but would precipitate broad changes in the public’s understanding of and appreciation for the delicate relationship between mankind and the natural environment.

Alfred Eisenstaedt’s portrait (above)—published alongside Carson’s Life profile and recently acquired by the National Portrait Gallery—shows the fifty-five-year-old Carson behind a microscope at her Silver Spring, Maryland, home. Although it was her lyricism as a writer that made her books national best-sellers, Carson was always proud of her work as a scientist.

In 1936, when she accepted her first full-time job, as a marine biologist at the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, she was one of only two female professionals at the agency. Throughout her career, Carson remained dedicated to field research and ever curious about the natural world around her.

Although she was an acclaimed writer before the publication of Silent Spring, having won a National Book Award in 1951 for The Sea Around Us, it was her investigation into the harm of man-made pollutants in Silent Spring that placed her at the center of a national battle between the chemical industry and a growing legion of environmental supporters.

Likening the effects of pesticides to those of atomic radiation, she stated, “I wrote the book because I think there is a great danger that the next generation will have no chance to know nature as we do—if we don’t preserve it the damage will be irreversible.” Adversaries soon lined up to contest her findings.

Despite fifty-five pages of scientific endnotes, many characterized her as a “hysterical woman” and accused her of lacking scientific credentials; a former Department of Agriculture secretary even labeled her a Communist. Yet President John F. Kennedy took notice and called for a further investigation of the issues the book raised. Before a Senate subcommittee, Carson reiterated that environmental pollution is one of the “major problems of modern life.”

A subsequent special report confirmed her findings and helped pave the way for dramatic changes in the use of pesticides. DDT—developed during World War II and widely used in domestic agriculture—was eventually banned in the United States, in 1972.

 “It’s always so easy to assume that someone else is taking care of things,” Carson reflected about her experience. “People say, ‘We wouldn’t be allowed to use these things if they were dangerous.’ It just isn’t so. Trusting so-called authority is not enough. A sense of personal responsibility is what we desperately need.”

While Carson never anticipated becoming a nationally renowned figure, her search for truth highlighted the ecological impact of new technologies and provoked others to action. Tragically, Carson died of breast cancer only eighteen months after Silent Spring’s publication.

Two of Rachel Carson’s portraits are currently on view at the National Portrait Gallery: a photograph (top) by Alfred Eisenstaedt on display in the "New Arrivals" exhibition, and a portrait bust (above) in the "20th Century Americans" gallery, by Una Hanbury.  More on Rachel Carson can be found at RachelCarson.org.

Rachel Louise Carson/Alfred Eisenstaedt, 1962/Gelatin silver print/National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

Rachel Louise Carson/Una Hanbury,1965/Bronze/National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

Everett Dirksen: Forgotten Civil Rights Champion

June 10, 1964, was a dramatic day in the United States Senate. For the first time in its history, cloture was invoked on a civil rights bill, ending a record-breaking filibuster that had consumed fifty-seven working days. The hero of the hour was minority leader Senator Everett McKinley Dirksen (R-Ill.).

Dirksen, who had little support among Chicago’s black voters and who had been picketed at his home by rights activists, took pains to point out that he was “no Johnny-come lately” to civil rights legislation. During his sixteen years in the House of Representatives, he had voted for anti-poll-tax and anti-lynching measures. In the Senate he had sponsored or cosponsored scores of bills dealing with civil rights. But as an omnibus civil rights bill began to near passage in the House early in 1964, Dirksen, a pragmatic legislator and a consummate compromiser, realized that its provisions were too drastic for passage in the Senate.

In February, when he entered the hospital, afflicted with a bleeding ulcer, he took his dog-eared copy of the House bill with him, poring over it line by line and drawing up a list of conciliatory changes. During the spring, with the help of legal experts, he began to rewrite the bill, suggesting almost seventy amendments, many technical but others of substance. “I have a fixed pole star,” he said in April. “This is, first, to get a bill; second to get an acceptable bill; third, to get a workable bill; and, finally, to get an equitable bill.”

In the beginning, Dirksen could only guarantee that twelve to fourteen of his thirty-three Republicans would join with floor manager Hubert Humphrey’s solid forty-one Democrats, leaving the total short of the sixty-seven votes necessary to shut down the southern Democrats. “The key,” said majority leader Mike Mansfield, “is Dirksen.” Dirksen himself acknowledged, “Getting cloture is going to be as difficult as hell.” He went to his members one by one, pleading with them, appealing to their moral sensibilities, reminding them of past favors, and warning of more civil unrest, exercising his beguiling talents to their fullest effect.

By June 10, the stage was set. The Democratic senator from West Virginia, Robert C. Byrd, sat down after speaking for fourteen hours and thirteen minutes, and Senator Richard Russell of Georgia summed up for the southern opposition. Senator Dirksen then took the floor. “Stronger than all the armies is an idea whose time has come,” he said, quoting Victor Hugo in his basso profundo voice. “The time has come for equality of opportunity in sharing in government, in education, and in employment. It will not be stayed or denied. It is here.”

Dirksen produced twenty-three Republican votes to make a total of sevemty—three votes beyond the necessary two-thirds to break the filibuster (the final tally was 71–29). Swift passage of the civil rights bill followed, and the House, rather than argue, accepted the Senate version. On July 2, President Lyndon Johnson signed into law a bill that banned discrimination in public facilities, provided voting rights protection, and established equal opportunity as the law of the land.

Time magazine noted when Dirksen appeared on the cover of the June 19, 1964 issue, “it is Dirksen’s bill, bearing his handiwork more than anyone else’s.” That cover, by Robert Vickrey, the accomplished painter in egg tempera, is part of the Time collection of artwork that was presented to the National Portrait Gallery in 1978.

Everett McKinley Dirksen/Robert Vickrey, 1964/National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of Time magazine