The Quiet Trailblazer recounts Mary Frances Early’s life from her childhood in Atlanta, her growing interest in music, and her awakening to the injustices of racism in the Jim Crow South. Early carefully maps the road to her 1961 decision to apply to the master’s program in music education at the University of Georgia, becoming one of only three African American students. With this personal journey we are privy to her prolonged and difficult admission process; her experiences both troubling and hopeful while on the Athens campus; and her historic graduation in 1962. Early shares fascinating new details of her regular conversations with civil rights icon Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta. She also recounts her forty-eight years as a music educator in the state of Georgia, the Southeast, and at the national level. She continued to blaze trails within the field and across professional associations. After Early earned her master’s and specialist’s degrees, she became an acclaimed Atlanta music educator, teaching music at segregated schools and later being promoted to music director of the entire school system. In 1981 Early became the first African American elected president of the Georgia Music Educators Association. After she retired from working in public schools in 1994, Early taught at Morehouse College and Spelman College and served as chair of the music department at Clark Atlanta University. Early details her welcome reconciliation with UGA, which had failed for decades to publicly recognize its first Black graduate. In 2018 she received the President’s Medal, and her portrait is one of only two women’s to hang in the Administration Building. Most recently, Early was honored by the naming of the College of Education in her honor.

When American slaveholders looked west in the mid-nineteenth century, they saw an empire unfolding before them. They pursued that vision through diplomacy, migration, and armed conquest. By the late 1850s, slaveholders and their allies had transformed the southwestern quarter of the nation – California, New Mexico, Arizona, and parts of Utah – into a political client of the plantation states. Across this vast swath of the map, white southerners defended the institution of African American chattel slavery as well as systems of Native American bondage. This surprising history uncovers the Old South in unexpected places, far beyond the region's cotton fields and sugar plantations. Slaveholders' western ambitions culminated in a coast-to-coast crisis of the Union. By 1861, the rebellion in the South inspired a series of separatist movements in the Far West. Even after the collapse of the Confederacy, the threads connecting South and West held, undermining the radical promise of Reconstruction. Kevin Waite brings to light what contemporaries recognized but historians have described only in part: The struggle over slavery played out on a transcontinental stage.

In January 1961, following eighteen months of litigation that culminated in a federal court order, Hamilton Holmes and Charlayne Hunter became the first black students to enter the University of Georgia. Calvin Trillin, then a reporter for Time Magazine, attended the court fight that led to the admission of Holmes and Hunter and covered their first week at the university—a week that began in relative calm, moved on to a riot and the suspension of the two students "for their own safety," and ended with both returning to the campus under a new court order. Shortly before their graduation in 1963, Trillin came back to Georgia to determine what their college lives had been like. He interviewed not only Holmes and Hunter but also their families, friends, and fellow students, professors, and university administrators. The result was this book—a sharply detailed portrait of how these two young people faced coldness, hostility, and occasional understanding on a southern campus in the midst of a great social change.

What is the soundtrack for a nuclear war? During the Cold War, over 500 songs were written about nuclear weapons, fear of the Soviet Union, civil defense, bomb shelters, McCarthyism, uranium mining, the space race, espionage, the Berlin Wall, and glasnost. This music uncovers aspects of these world-changing events that documentaries and history books cannot. In Atomic Tunes, Tim and Joanna Smolko explore everything from the serious to the comical, the morbid to the crude, showing the widespread concern among musicians coping with the effect of communism on American society and the threat of a nuclear conflict of global proportions. Atomic Tunes presents a musical history of the Cold War, analyzing the songs that capture the fear of those who lived under the shadow of Stalin, Sputnik, mushroom clouds, and missiles.

Through the Arch captures UGA's colorful past, dynamic present, and promising future in a novel way: by surveying its buildings, structures, and spaces. These physical features are the university's most visible--and some of its most valuable--resources. Yet they are largely overlooked, or treated only passingly, in histories and standard publications about UGA. Through text and photographs, this book places buildings and spaces in the context of UGA's development over more than 225 years. After opening with a brief historical overview of the university, the book profiles over 140 buildings, landmarks, and spaces, their history, appearance, and past and current usage, as well as their namesake, beginning with the oldest structures on North Campus and progressing to the newest facilities on South and East Campus and the emerging Northwest Quadrant. Many profiles are supplemented with sidebars relating traditions, lore, facts, or alumni recollections associated with buildings and spaces. More than just landmarks or static elements of infrastructure, buildings and spaces embody the university's values, cultural heritage, and educational purpose. These facilities--many more than a century old--are where students learn, explore, and grow and where faculty teach, research, and create. They harbor the university's history and traditions, protect its treasures, and hold memories for alumni. The repository for books, documents, artifacts, and tools that contain and convey much of the accumulated knowledge and wisdom of human existence, these structures are the legacy of generations. And they are tangible symbols of UGA's commitment to improve our world through education. Guide includes 113 color photos throughout 19 black-and-white historical photos Over 140 profiles of buildings, landmarks, and spaces Supplemental sidebars with traditions, lore, facts, and alumni anecdotes 6 maps

Universities are more than engines propelling us into a bold new future. They are also living history. A college campus serves as a repository for the memories of countless students, staff, and faculty who have passed through its halls. The history of a university resides not just in its archives but also in the place itself—the walkways and bridges, the libraries and classrooms, the gardens and creeks winding their way across campus. To think of Emory as place, as Hauk invites you to do, is not only to consider its geography and its architecture (the lay of the land and the built-up spaces its people inhabit) but also to imagine how the external, constructed world can cultivate an internal world of wonder and purpose and responsibility—in short, how a landscape creates meaning. Emory as Place offers physical, though mute, evidence of how landscape and population have shaped each other over decades of debate about architecture, curriculum, and resources. More than that, the physical development of the place mirrors the university’s awareness of itself as an arena of tension between the past and the future—even between the past and the present, between what the university has been and what it now purports or intends to be, through its spaces. Most of all, thinking of Emory as place suggests a way to get at the core meaning of an institution as large, diverse, complex, and tentacled as a modern research university.

Much of what is known today of Georgia history was preserved through the diligent efforts of a single family. From Wormsloe, their ancestral plantation near Savannah, the De Rennes built an extraordinary collection of books and manuscripts on the history of the state and the Confederacy, much of which is now housed at the University of Georgia and the Museum of the Confederacy. This book focuses on their efforts in the years 1827 through 1970, conveying the passion and purpose with which they pursued their avocation. William Harris Bragg has mined a vast array of archival sources to present this engaging narrative of the De Renne family. He tells how wealthy bibliophile and philanthropist G. W. J. De Renne and his wife, Mary, set the precedent for the family’s accumulation of historic material, how their son established the Wymberley Jones De Renne Georgia Library that bears his name, and how his children in turn expanded upon that tradition. The De Rennes also printed limited editions of primary historical materials beginning with the series known as the Wormsloe Quartos. Bragg’s account of three generations of the De Renne family vividly records their achievements as it reconstructs their life at Wormsloe and follows them in their travels around the world. It provides glimpses into the dynamics and behavior of one of Georgia’s oldest and most prominent families and the evolution of the southern aristocracy. The book draws on newly available material to expand significantly on Ellis Merton Coulter’s 1955 work, Wormsloe, and provides the most complete account to date of the De Rennes. Beyond the story of the De Renne family, Bragg also reveals much about the history of collecting and of the antiquarian book trade, as well as of the evolution of Georgia historical documentation. Appendix material includes genealogical tables and lists of collections and publications, making De Renne: Three Generations of a Georgia Family an invaluable source for all scholars and aficionados of southern history.