Educator and Activist
Nadine Fortune Wright was born into plenty on August 9, 1893. Her parents, Willis Wright and Mamie Drake Wright, were well-educated teachers. Her Wright grandparents, Thomas and Sarah Fortune Wright, were among the most financially well-off people in Springfield, Illinois, owning farmland in that state and Missouri and substantial property in the center of town. The newspaper announcement of her christening told of a large celebration and many wonderful gifts bestowed by family and friends.
However—always a huge “however” in the United States—Nadine and her family were African American, and their prosperity therefore couldn’t protect them from state-sanctioned crimes that would inspire her lifelong activism and achievements. The life story of Nadine’s mother, Mamie, is as yet obscure, her family roots unknown. She is believed to have been Native American. What is known is that she had received enough education to be teaching school when she met Nadine’s father, Willis. Willis knew that his father, perhaps his mother, at least one brother, and a number of other relatives had been born into slavery and that his father had worked for years to free as many as he could. Willis’s parents were able to make sure that their younger children were well educated—Willis’s older sister Gertrude had integrated Springfield High School and Willis himself graduated from Springfield as valedictorian.
Goodman’s parents, Mamie Wright (left and center) and Willis Wright (right).
Nadine thus began life riding what must have seemed a trend toward not only greater prosperity but also potentially greater freedom and wider prospects for African Americans. But both personal tragedy and a resurgence of racism in Springfield affected Nadine and her family. Her father died in 1899. His family was able to support her and her younger brother, Bruce (also known as Brewster), but Springfield itself was changing. Nadine’s family had been well known and well respected in Springfield for decades, but with the city rapidly growing as European immigrants and White southerners moved in, racist resentment against African Americans in general and particularly against well-to-do African Americans like the Wrights became threatening. When Nadine’s mother Mamie died in 1906, the family decided to send Nadine and Bruce to Cambridge to live with their aunt Gertrude, who had married Clement Morgan.
Nadine and Bruce were thus living with their aunt and uncle as Gertrude and Clement worked to found and develop the Niagara Movement. The two youngsters lived in a house that was one of the centers of Black intellectual and political activity, and they no doubt at least listened in on conversations between the Morgans and the many thought-leaders who convened on Prospect Street. In 1908, White mobs attacked Black individuals and businesses in Springfield—including the Wrights’ property–in one of the signature 20th-century events of racist violence. Largely in response, the NAACP was founded, which Gertrude and Clement soon joined as leaders.
Nadine graduated from Cambridge High and Latin and went on to Radcliffe, where she graduated in 1917. As a student, she continued to take part in the family tradition of civil rights work, for example joining her aunt and uncle, their colleague W.E.B. Du Bois, and many others protesting the showing of the racist movie Birth of a Nation in Boston.
After her graduation from Radcliffe, Nadine taught in the Cambridge public schools for close to twenty years. During these years, she chartered the Boston Chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority. She was also a trustee of the Robert Gould Shaw house in Roxbury and oversaw that organization’s acquisition of the Breezy Meadows Summer Camp in Holliston, where she served as vice president and assistant treasurer from 1932 to 1940. In 1938, she married William Goodman, a college-educated Black man from Macon, Georgia, who worked for SS Pierce and Co. of Boston. Married women were not allowed to teach in the public schools, so Nadine had to move on. She became a member of the faculty at Bennett College in North Carolina and then Dean of Women at North Carolina A&T before returning to Boston. In the 1950s, she taught both children with cerebral palsy and brain-injured adults. She later established Norwell Pines, a summer camp in Norwell for children with cerebral palsy. Nadine and Bill were childless but considered all the children who attended their camp as their own. Nadine Wright Goodman died on July 25, 1994, aged 100.
This biographical portrait was prepared by James Spencer and Leslie Brunetta, 2020
by Robin Hazard Ray
The late Thomas Whittemore (1871–1950, Sorrel Path 2007) defies definition. The Dictionary of Art Historians describes him as a “Harvard Byzantinist and Egyptologist.” Art scholar Holger A. Klein, in his article “The Elusive Mr. Whittemore,” calls him a “Boston-born English professor, archaeologist and charismatic founder of the Byzantine Institute of America.” None of these descriptors begins to encompass the astonishing range of his activities and interests. For example, he brokered the 1929 deal whereby the Soviet Union sold Harvard the holy bells of Moscow’s Danilov Monastery for gold, saving the bells from the smelter. How would one describe that job: bell-rescuer/bullion smuggler?
But unarguably greatest work of his life—the uncovering of the magnificent Byzantine mosaics of the Hagia Sophia Basilica in Istanbul, built in the 6th century C.E. by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian I—now stands in jeopardy. A Turkish court recently permitted Turkish president Recep Tayyip Erdoğan to revoke the building’s status as a museum, opening it to Muslim prayer. The decision has been received with consternation among Orthodox Christians and art historians, but has been hailed by “Islamists and pan-Turkic romanticists” as redress for a century of Western-imposed secularization on a building that had functioned for centuries as a mosque.
Little in the early years of Whittemore’s life would have foreshadowed a future of globe-trotting, adventure, and intrigue. He graduated from Tufts University in 1894, staying on to teach English and, later, art history. He studied art history at Harvard, where he met and befriended Gertrude Stein.
He was a deeply religious man who turned from the Universalist roots of his family. (His grandfather and namesake Thomas Whittemore [1800–1861] was an influential Universalist author.) He became an Anglo-Catholic—a high-ritual branch of Episcopalianism, centered in Boston at the Church of the Advent—a bent that he shared with his friend Isabella Stewart Gardner (1840–1924, 2900–1 Oxalis Path). His attraction to the sensual aspects of Christian worship—incense, music, architecture—may have led his career toward the Byzantine and Orthodox Christianity.
Whittemore’s quiet scholarly life changed abruptly with the death of his widowed mother, Elizabeth St. Clair Whittemore, in 1904. An only child, Whittemore inherited a house in Cambridgeport (no longer standing) and presumably enough money to abandon his teaching career. With nothing left to tie him down in Boston, he took up a life of ceaseless travel and inquiry. He hopped back and forth between Eurasia, Africa, and America over the next decades, turning up occasionally as a docent in the Egyptian Department at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts or teaching a class at Harvard; just as often he was heard from assisting refugees in Galicia or socializing with Coptic clergy in Cairo. In Paris in the first decade of the twentieth century, he alighted temporarily in the circle of Gertrude Stein and her partner Alice B. Toklas. His friend (and possibly lover) Matthew S. Prichard (1865–1936), through whom Whittemore met and befriended the painter Henri Matisse, complained in a letter to Belle Gardner: “Whittemore is never in a place; he was, he will be; he comes from and is going to; but he is never ‘here.’”
He knew dozens of languages, including (at least) Greek, Latin, all major European modern languages, Polish, Russian, Ukrainian, Arabic, Turkish, Coptic, and Egyptian hieroglyphics. The novelist Graham Greene, who met the professor on a ship convoying from Britain to Africa in 1941, wrote in his diary: “Whittemore seems to know all languages.” Another twentieth-century writer, Evelyn Waugh, met Whittemore while attending the 1930 coronation of Emperor Haile Selassie in Abyssinia (now Ethiopia); Waugh’s detailed description of the junket he and Whittemore took to visit the remote Coptic monastery of Debra Lebanos is a classic of travel literature. It gives us a sense of the intrepidity of Whittemore, who was then nearly sixty years old: bouncing for hours over washed-out roads, sleeping on piles of hay and carpets in a freezing tent, just to gaze on the buildings and relics of an ancient Christian redoubt.
Though his struggling biographers have called him “professor,” “archaeologist,” and “Byzantine expert,” Whittemore’s true genius was not scholarly. He wrote very little of substance in his long life, and much of what he did write has been dismissed by specialists as amateurish. Instead, his great gift was for friendship and connection. In turn, he coaxed his friends and acquaintances into supporting, either financially or politically, the many and diverse projects to which he turned his restless mind.
One of his projects, begun in the 1920s as the modern state of Turkey was taking shape, was to survey the grounds of the grand mosque that had inhabited the former basilica of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul (Constantinople). Whittemore knew that the basilica had once been adorned with glorious mosaics depicting the lives and miracles of prophets and saints. But these mosaics had been plastered over after the Turkish conquest of Constantinople in 1453, so that Muslim worshipers in the space would not be offended by their imagery. With gentle persistence, putting the case to every archaeologist and official he met in Istanbul, Whittemore gradually worked his way up the chain of power to Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the former field marshal who had become the first president of the Republic of Turkey in 1923. At Whittemore’s suggestion, Atatürk opened the basilica as a museum in 1935 and approved the restoration of its great mosaic cycles.
Whittemore spent the last two decades of his life, from 1929 until his sudden death in 1950, restoring and studying the mosaics which, in scale and beauty, have no equal in the world. Tirelessly he worked to maintain good relations with officials of the Turkish government, and just as tirelessly he raised funds for the restoration work among his many wealthy American acquaintances.
He loved Istanbul. In a beautiful letter written to Isabella Stewart Gardner at the end of her life, when she had been rendered an invalid by a series of strokes, he wrote:
I wonder if you have ever been in Constantinople during Ramazan [Ramadan]; among these beautiful nights I think of you very often. Beneath my window lies the Golden Horn; from its flaring end at the old bridge to its delicate mouth-piece at Eyoub. I raise it to the lips of my imagination and sound it for you to hear. Around me as far as I can see, to the long line of the Marmara is a garden of mosques . . .The minarets are like night-blooming-cereus, in their mysterious and solitary flowering, which fade dawn-struck.”
In the same latter, he eulogizes the basilica: “Sancta-Sophia is a sphere of light. It is the universe of buildings. Sancta Sophia: Holy Wisdom. It is what the world most needs and has lost.”
It is hard to predict how the mosaics of Hagia Sophia will fare now that the building is once again a mosque. The treatment of Byzantine mosaics in other buildings that have returned to Muslim worship under the current Turkish administration do not leave one optimistic. Perhaps another figure will emerge with the energy of Thomas Whittemore to help Hagia Sophia through its current transition. But there will certainly never be another Thomas Whittemore.
Thomas Whittemore is buried next to his parents, Joseph and Elizabeth St. Clair Whittemore, though his grave bears no marker. Lot 2007, Sorrel Path.
 Holger A. Klein, ““Tarifi Zor Bay Whittemore: Erken Dönem, 1871–1916” [The elusive Mr. Whittemore: The early years, 1871–1916], in The Kariye Camii Reconsidered, ed. by Holger Klein, Robert Ousterhout, and Brigitte Pitarakis (Istanbul, 2011), 468.
 Robert S. Nelson, Hagia Sophia, 1850–1950: Holy Wisdom Modern Monument (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 2004), 173.
 Sarah Cascone, “A Turkish Court Has Revoked the Hagia Sophia’s Status as a Museum,” ArtNews (10 July 2020). https://news.artnet.com/art-world/hagia-sophia-mosque-museum-1893761
 Selim Koru, “Turkey’s Islamist Dream Finally Becomes a Reality,” New York Times (14 July 2020).
 Prichard to Isabella Stewart Gardner, letter dated 5 July 1924, Klein, “The Elusive Mr. Whittemore,” 467. This letter, dated less than 2 weeks before Gardner’s death, may have been one of the last letters she received.
 Graham Greene, In Search of a Character: Two African Journals (New York: Viking, 1994), 76.
 Evelyn Waugh, “A Coronation in 1930,” in When the Getting Was Good (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1946), 103–121.
 TW to ISG, 6 July 1920; excerpted in Nelson, Hagia Sophia, 170.
Svetlana Boym was born in Leningrad on April 29, 1959, and left the U.S.S.R. for the United States in 1980 at the age of 21. After graduate studies in Boston and Cambridge, MA, she became the Curt Hugo Reisinger Professor of Slavic and Comparative Literatures at Harvard University, as well as a novelist, playwright, cultural critic and new media artist.
Boym’s written work combined historical analysis, philosophical essay and personal memoir, exploring motifs of nostalgia, exile, freedom and memory, and most especially, the concept of the off-modern. Meanwhile, her scholarly research touched upon the diasporic imagination and revealed parallels and connections within and between the fields of comparative literature, cultural studies and 20th-century Russian literature. (more…)
Perkins’ later invested in cotton mills, mining, iron-making, hotels, theaters and quarrying. The 1826 Granite Railway Company organized under his leadership was instrumental in building the first railroad in America. For half a century Perkins’ company operated both quarries and railroad, but after laying a network of railroads he gave up railroad work and concentrated on the quarrying side of the business. His quarrying business supplied the stone for many important buildings and structures in Boston, including the Bunker Hill Monument, the Boston Custom House, and Minot’s Ledge Light, one of the most famous lighthouses in the world near Boston Harbor. (more…)