After my father’s death in 2016, his wife invited me to take whatever of his books I wanted. His college literature textbook—I’d read several of its essays and stories over the years—was my first choice. Second on my list was his collection of 19 American Heritage volumes. Ordered by subscription, these tall, slim books with their distinctive white covers were the remnants of a larger collection, publications that had arrived every two months in our house during the 1960s and early 1970s.
Recently, I opened a few of these volumes for the first time since bringing them home and was stunned. My reaction, I suspect, was much the same as someone today who watches the 1937 Disney film “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” and realizes that the talented cartoonists, artists, and other makers of that movie operated without computers. Similarly, in each of the American Heritage issues, which the company regarded as magazines, are marvelous histories and biographies replete with photographs and beautiful paintings and drawings.
The copies I own are not much more than 60 years old, yet when I open one of them, I feel as if I’ve just dug out some heirloom from a dusty attic trunk, some antique from the age of crinoline and frock coats.
The Way It Was
None of these headlines made the pages of my April 1971 edition of American Heritage. Unlike today, when so many editors and publishers mingle conjecture, opinion, news, and history, the American Heritage editors focus all of their attention on providing a balanced account of the American past.
In addition to this length, the breadth of subjects is dizzying. Here in this same issue are pieces on Civil War veterans; popular fiction of that war; the paintings of John Faulkner, brother to the famous novelist William; a look at presidential libraries; and more. If my mother looked over these articles, then she surely would have read Peter Chew’s “The ‘mostest Hoss’” about the race horse Man o’ War, for she had seen that thoroughbred in the flesh and kept his picture on the living room wall.
A Touching Story
The magazine’s writers and editors frequently addressed sidebars to history, little-known incidents that illustrated a larger picture. In the December 1963 volume owned by my parents, we find one of these vignettes in “General Reynolds And ‘dear Kate.’”John Reynolds, an outstanding Union officer, was shot and killed on the first day of the Battle of Gettysburg. He left behind, unknown to nearly everyone who knew the general, a woman who loved him, Kate Hewitt. According to the article, Hewitt made herself known to Reynolds’s grieving family when she paid a visit to their home to view his body. She and Reynolds’s sister spent the night keeping watch over the deceased and became friends.
Soon afterward, the grieving Kate, a convert to Catholicism, entered a convent founded by Elizabeth Ann Seton, another famous American, though she is likely unknown to many of the public today. Several years later, having made no vows, Kate left the convent and then disappeared from the pages of history.
A Brief History
The 21st century brought hard times to the magazine. High costs finally caused the print publication to cease operations. But in 2017, backers helped launch an improved digital publication that remains alive today and which for now is free, though donations are appreciated.
Loving Means Learning
Although American Heritage deserves our applause, my point here isn’t to tout the magazine but to underscore one more way to discover our country’s fascinating past. Many Americans—and not all of them young—remain ignorant of their own history. Some of those “gotcha” videos on YouTube, for instance, reveal college students who don’t know the meaning of Independence Day or the importance of Abraham Lincoln in the Civil War. Doubtless, many other Americans of all ages could use some brushing up, at a minimum, when it comes to the story of our country. To love our country means knowing something about its past.
One way to do so is to enter the website portal of “American Heritage,” which is like swinging open a door and walking into a vast library centered on our past. As Editor-in-Chief Edwin S. Grosvenor says: “It is our nation’s shared memory, the place where the insights and observations of our best storytellers have been preserved over the generations.”
Give that door a push, and see what you think.