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Prologue Magazine

Making Their Mark

Stories Through Signatures

Spring 2014, Vol. 46, No. 1

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Frederick Douglass wrote to President Lincoln in late August 1864, asking that his youngest son, Charles, be discharged from the Army. He noted that Charles was sick and had served for 18 months. Right: Lincoln wrote on the back: “Let this boy be discharged.” (Records of the Adjutant General's Office, 1780's-1917, RG 94)

The act of signing your name can be routinely simple, or it can be the stroke of a pen that changes many lives—and the course of history.

We sign for credit card purchases many times each week. We write our names and a message on cards to colleagues retiring, getting married, or ailing. We provide our signatures to acknowledge the receipt of a package. We affix our signatures to petitions with thousands of other citizens.

Our actions probably don’t change the world much.

But some figures in American history have, with a simple stroke of a pen, changed the world for thousands or millions of people, for better or worse.

John Hancock signed his name so large, and with such flair, on the Declaration of Independence that “John Hancock” has be come a synonym for signature.

President Harry S. Truman signed two executive orders in 1948 that desegregated the nation’s armed forces and the federal workforce. Within a year, 18 agencies had desegregated, and some agency heads who had not cooperated were removed from their positions.

President Thomas Jefferson, who held deeply contradictory beliefs about the morality and legality of slavery, signed legislation abolishing the international slave trade and hoped to finally settle one aspect of the contentious issue of slavery.

These signatures, as well as many others and a wide range of artifacts, are part of a new exhibit at the ˹ֳ Museum in Washington, D.C., “Making Their Mark: Stories Through Signatures,” which runs through January 5, 2015, in the Lawrence F. O’Brien Gallery.

“Making Their Mark: Stories Through Signatures” is made possible in part by the Foundation for the ˹ֳ with the generous support of Lead Sponsor AT&T. Major additional support is provided by the Lawrence F. O’Brien family and members of the board of the Foundation.

The exhibit draws on the billions of government records and artifacts from 19 ˹ֳ facilities nationwide to showcase a unique collection of signatures— and signature artifacts—and tell the stories behind them.

“This sweeping exhibit is an opportunity to showcase not only notable signatures, but the signatures and stories of people un known to history, and how they have made their mark on the American narrative,’’ said Jennifer Johnson, the curator of the exhibit.

“‘Making Their Mark’” uses items from all over the country,” Johnson added, “and these records allow visitors to see the scope and breadth of the records the ˹ֳ preserves.”

Many of the treasured documents in the immense holdings of the ˹ֳ are inscribed with signatures.

Many of the signatures are notable, such as those of the 56 men, including John Hancock, who signed the Declaration of Independence, becoming traitors in the eyes of George III. Others are famous individuals, such as legendary actress Katharine Hepburn and baseball great Jackie Robinson.

Hepburn, noted for her portrayals of fear less women, wrote a letter to the U.S. Board of Parole in 1950 asking that screenwriter Ring Lardner, Jr., be granted parole. Lardner had been jailed for refusing to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee investigating communism in Hollywood.

By doing so, Hepburn was putting herself and her career at risk. Nonetheless, she went on to enjoy a long and acclaimed film career despite the letter.

Then there are signatures of those whose marks on history may have been fleeting but reveal the world around them. In World War II, a Japanese American inside an internment camp signed a loyalty questionnaire. In 1938 a Jewish tailor amid the increasing Nazi presence in Europe wrote to President Franklin D. Roosevelt pleading for help in leaving Hungary because of “political happenings.”

In the 19th century, Texas landowner Polly Lemon petitioned Congress but, unable to sign her name, only signed with her mark, an “X.” So did Harriet Tubman, who served as nurse, cook, spy, and scout for the Union during the Civil War. Decades after the war, a determined Tubman, signing with an “X,” sought a pension for her services during the war.

 

 

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Frederick Douglass wrote to President Abraham Lincoln in 1863 asking that his son, the first African American to enlist in the Union Army from New York, be dis charged because of illness.

“Let this boy be discharged,” Lincoln wrote on the back over his signature.

Some documents are important not for the individual names but for the strength of many names brought together for a common cause. Among the petitions asking for change is a letter to President Gerald R. Ford with 75 senators signing in unity to “reaffirm the commitment . . . that has been the bipartisan basis of American policy for over 26 years and five administrations.”

Then there are those that offer a window into a very young America, such as the 1799 petition signed by all employees at the U.S. Mint, promising to return to work once the yellow fever epidemic passed. George Washington wrote to the Continental Congress humbly asking how he should resign as commander-in-chief so he could return to his home in Virginia.

As the Allied leaders met at Potsdam, Germany, in the spring of 1945 to decide the shape of the post–World War II world, President Harry S. Truman passed around his dinner program for all to sign. Two of the signers were British Prime Minister Winston Churchill and Soviet Communist Party Boss Josef Stalin.

Some signatures didn’t seem significant at the time. In 1960, a 14-year-old from Beverly, Massachusetts, wrote to President Eisenhower asking for an autographed photograph. His name was Dave Ferriero, and he was doing what millions of children have done over the years.

Today, Dave Ferriero is Archivist of the United States David S. Ferriero, the person in charge of the ˹ֳ.

"This exhibit brings a new meaning to our goal of increasing access to records at the ˹ֳ,” Ferriero said. “We see signatures that, once affixed to a document, often produced a historic moment that changed the course of world history or the lot in life of a single individual.”

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President Johnson with his mentor as a senator, Senator Richard Russell, at the White House, December 7, 1963. Johnson used his imposing stature as one tool in his own brand of political persuasion, known as the "Johnson treatment."

“Signatures can also tell us a lot about their owners and the circumstances under which they were made. Hancock was defiant, Lincoln was decisive, Tubman was determined, Hepburn was fearless, and Truman was confident—all evident in their signatures or ‘marks,’” Ferriero added.

Not everything in “Making Their Mark” is a signature on paper or parchment.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt left many famous words, but he also sought to convey confidence for a nation pulling itself out of the Great Depression and into World War II. His famous ivory cigarette holder with a quill mouth piece was his favorite and the one he used most.

Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, as Supreme Allied Commander in Europe during World War II, had a signature style, in his case a jacket. He asked that the standard issue field jacket be tailored for him, and the result was the “Ike jacket,” which comes just to the waist. Countless photographs show General Eisenhower in his jacket with other generals and with his troops. It became standard issue to U.S. troops after November 1944.

President Lyndon B. Johnson was known for his ability to persuade others to agree with his point of view after giving them the signature “Johnson treatment.” His large and commanding 6-foot 4-inch frame helped him convince many people to sup port his position or legislation.

A famous photograph shows Johnson leaning over Senator Richard B. Russell of Georgia, his friend and mentor in the Senate. In 1964, Johnson made clear to Russell that he was going to get the landmark civil rights legislation through the Senate despite his mentor’s opposition.

A signature tells a story. It may be at the bottom of a letter, or it may be at the bottom of legislation that will change the course of history. “Making Their Mark” invites visitors to look at a signature, imagine the moment the document was signed, and realize how the signers have made their mark on history.

 

Articles published in Prologue do not necessarily represent the views of NARA or of any other agency of the United States Government.
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