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George W. Brackenridge (1832–1920) was a paradox to his fellow Texans. A Republican in a solidly Democratic state, a financier in a cattleman's country, a Prohibitionist in the goodtime town of San Antonio, he devoted his energies to making a fortune only to give it to philanthropic causes.

Indiana born, Brackenridge came to Texas in 1853, but left the state during the Civil War to serve as U.S. Treasury agent and engage in the wartime cotton trade. Later he settled in San Antonio, where he founded a bank and invested in railroads, utilities, and other enterprises.

Some of Brackenridge's contemporaries never forgave him for his Civil War career, but others knew him as a public-spirited citizen, educator, and advocate of civil rights. He cared little for what others thought of him. Yet, he confided once in a rare interview that his fondest ambition was to leave the world a better place for his having lived in it. To this end, he gave generously of himself and his means.

His best-known benefaction is Brackenridge Park, which he gave to the city of San Antonio, but most of his contributions were in the field of education. As regent of the University of Texas for more than twenty-five years, he gave the institution its first dormitory, a large tract of land in Austin, and innumerable smaller gifts. He also offered to underwrite the expenses of the University when Governor James E. Ferguson vetoed the appropriation bill for 1917–1919.

Other educational institutions to benefit from his largess were the public schools of San Antonio, a Negro college in Seguin, and the University of Texas Medical Branch at Galveston. In addition, he assisted individual students, especially women, through scholarships and loans.

Believing that the betterment of humanity lay in education, Brackenridge arranged for the continuation of his philanthropies. By his will he created the George W. Brackenridge Foundation, the first of its kind in Texas and one of the first in the United States.

Marilyn McAdams Sibley's study of George W. Brackenridge is the first biography of an important and, for his time, unusual Texan. It presents new material concerning the Mexican cotton trade during the Civil War, on the beginnings of banking in Texas, and on higher education in Texas.

Terry Jordan explores how German immigrants in the nineteenth century influenced and were influenced by the agricultural life in the areas of Texas where they settled. His findings both support the notion of ethnic distinctiveness and reveal the extent to which German Texans adopted the farming techniques of their Southern Anglo neighbors.

During the brief history of the Republic of Texas (1836-1845), over 10,000 Germans emigrated to Texas. Perhaps best remembered today are the farmers who settled the Texas Hill Country, yet many of the German immigrants were merchants and businesspeople who helped make Galveston a thriving international port and Houston an early Texas business center. This book tells their story.

Drawing on extensive research on both sides of the Atlantic, Walter Struve explores the conditions that led nineteenth-century Europeans to establish themselves on the North American frontier. In particular, he traces the similarity in social, economic, and cultural conditions in Germany and the Republic of Texas and shows how these similarities encouraged German emigration and allowed some immigrants to prosper in their new home. Particularly interesting is the translation of a collection of letters from Charles Giesecke to his brother in Germany which provide insight into the business and familial concerns of a German merchant and farmer.

This wealth of information illuminates previously neglected aspects of intercontinental migration in the nineteenth century. The book will be important reading for a wide public and scholarly audience.

    Historian Gilad Margalit eloquently fills a tragic gap in the historical record with this sweeping examination of the plight of Gypsies in Germany before, during, and since the era of the Third Reich.
    Germany and Its Gypsies reveals the painful record of the official treatment of the German Gypsies, a people whose future, in the shadow of Auschwitz, remains uncertain. Margalit follows the story from the heightened racism of the nineteenth century to the National Socialist genocidal policies that resulted in the murder of most German Gypsies, from the shifting attitudes in the two Germanys in 1945 through reunification and up to the present day.
    Drawing upon a rich variety of sources, Margalit considers the pivotal historic events, legal arguments, debates, and changing attitudes toward the status of the German Gypsies and shines a vitally important light upon the issue of ethnic groups and their victimization in society. The result is a powerful and unforgettable testament.

An ethnography of how people use reproductive practices to transmit and reinvent American Judaism.

In Gestating Judaism, Cara Rock-Singer develops a new analytic technique called ethnodrashy (a combination of rabbinical midrash and sociological ethnography) to explore the centrality of reproductive bodies to the intellectual, political, and spiritual life of American Judaism. She considers how, in reproduction, religious practices like the mikveh combine with secular practices like fertility treatments in ways that challenge the popular idea that religion occupies a separate sphere of life from politics or science. In fact, Rock-Singer shows how Jewish feminists have leveraged the work of reproduction to intervene in important conversations about both politics and theology. Drawing together religious studies, gender studies, and science and technology studies, Gestating Judaism shows how Jewish tradition is transmitted and reinvented through the ongoing labor of reproduction.

Attuned to the subtle choreographies of the classroom, Gestural Listening In and Beyond the Classroom investigates how students and instructors show that they are listening to each other—and, sometimes, that they are not. While rhetorical scholarship traditionally focuses on speaking and writing, listening can also be understood as a rhetorical force that makes things happen. Listening has the power to move, bring about, cause, and catalyze. This conductive aspect of listening is its embodied manifestation—termed “gestural listening.”

Laura Feibush first traces the roots of embodied listening through cultural and rhetorical history and then uses findings from a classroom study to inform an insightful discussion of respect, resistance, and self-regulation as the key dynamics that characterize listening in contemporary educational spaces. She reveals how the gestures of listening refract across identity categories in ways that have surprising effects on how classroom participants respond to one another. This accessibly written book attends to hands and faces, nodding and note-taking, and the presence of phones and laptops, as well as other forms of nonverbal backchanneling, such as where people sit, when they interrupt, and when they engage in impactful quietness.

The power of gestural listening is not limited to the classroom. Its quiet yet profound influence can elucidate many sites of interaction: in-person and virtual academic settings as well as those far beyond the educational space, such as scenes of protest, worship, and performance. Gestural Listening In and Beyond the Classroom shows how, when understood as possessing its own repertoire of impressive and expressive capacities, listening emerges as a fascinating site of study and offers exercises, activities, and other materials to help educators, counselors, and all those engaging in communicative work enact a new awareness of gestural listening as a rhetorical force.

An environmental history of resistance, negotiation, and conservation on the Massachusetts coast

An hour north of Boston, Parker River National Wildlife Refuge occupies the southern three-quarters of Plum Island, a barrier island off the Massachusetts coast. Parker River is a nationally renowned birding destination and the second most-visited wildlife refuge in the Northeast, drawing over 300,000 visitors annually. Today, environmentally minded Massachusetts barely remembers the decade-long fight that reduced the refuge to half its original size. Get Plum Island! tells the forgotten story of how six small towns in Essex County (Newbury, West Newbury, Rowley, Ipswich, Groveland, and Georgetown) fought the establishment of the refuge in the 1940s. Through political organizing across local, state, and federal levels, the opposition nearly abolished the refuge and ultimately succeeded in making it smaller.

The conflict was deeply shaped by class, geography, and competing visions of land use. On one side were elite conservationists—sportsmen, ornithologists, and preservation advocates from Boston, Cambridge, and Newton—who envisioned a federally protected habitat. On the other side of the conflict, a group of mostly middle- and working-class men, farmers, and local hunters organized a resistance to the establishment of a refuge. Through protests, public hearings, and even aggression toward visiting federal officials, local opposition made the case that their communities had clammed, farmed, and hunted the disputed lands before there even was a United States government. They recounted a version of their history as founders of the nation that made them, in their view, entitled to the land that was given to them by the English Crown. In telling this story, Get Plum Island! reveals how ordinary citizens can challenge—and reshape—federal authority, and offers a timely case study in the politics of land, class, and conservation.

For eight years Keith Morton codirected a safe-space program for youth involved in gang or street violence in Providence, Rhode Island. Getting Out is a result of the innovative perspectives he developed as he worked alongside staff from a local nonviolence institute to help these young people make life-affirming choices. Rather than view their violence as pathological, Morton explains that gang members are victims of violence, and the trauma they have experienced leads them to choose violence as the most meaningful option available. To support young people as they “unlearned” violence and pursued nonviolent alternatives, he offered what he calls a "Youth Positive" approach that prioritizes healing over punishment and recognizes them as full human beings. Informed by deep personal connections with these youth, Morton contends that to help them, we need to change our question from “What is wrong with you?” to “What happened to you?”