A revealing work of public history that shows how communities remember their pasts in different ways to fit specific narratives, Race, Place, and Memory charts the ebb and flow of racial violence in Wilmington, North Carolina, from the 1730s to the present day. Margaret Mulrooney argues that white elites have employed public spaces, memorials, and celebrations to maintain the status quo. The port city has long celebrated its white colonial revolutionary origins, memorialized Decoration Day, and hosted Klan parades. Other events, such as the Azalea Festival, have attempted to present a false picture of racial harmony to attract tourists. And yet, the revolutionary acts of Wilmington's African American citizens-who also demanded freedom, first from slavery and later from Jim Crow discrimination-have gone unrecognized. As a result, beneath the surface of daily life, collective memories of violence and alienation linger among the city's black population. Mulrooney describes her own experiences as a public historian involved in the centennial commemoration of the so-called Wilmington Race Riot of 1898, which perpetuated racial conflicts in the city throughout the twentieth century. She shows how, despite organizers' best efforts, a white-authored narrative of the riot's contested origins remains. Mulrooney makes a case for public history projects that recognize the history-making authority of all community members and prompts us to reconsider the memories we inherit.

A revealing work of public history that shows how communities remember their pasts in different ways to fit specific narratives, Race, Place, and Memory charts the ebb and flow of racial tension in Wilmington, North Carolina, from the 1730s to the present day. Margaret Mulrooney argues that while the port city has long celebrated its white colonial revolutionary origins, it has ignored the revolutionary acts of its African American citizens who also demanded freedom - first from slavery and later from Jim Crow discrimination. Lingering beneath the surface of daily life, she shows, are collective memories of violence and alienation that were exacerbated by the Wilmington Race Riot of 1898 and racial conflicts that occurred in the city throughout the twentieth century. Critically evaluating the riot's centennial commemoration, which she helped organize, Mulrooney makes a case for public history projects that recognize the history-making authority of all community members and prompt us to reconsider the memories we inherit.

Twenty years ago, Margaret Mulrooney's history of the community of Irish immigrant workers at the du Pont powder yards, Black Powder, White Lace, was published to wide acclaim. Now, as much of the materials Mulrooney used in her research are now electronically available to the public, and as debates about immigration continue to rage, a new edition of the book is being published to remind readers of the rich materials available on the du Pont workers, and of Mulrooney's powerful conclusions about immigrant communities in America. Explosives work was dangerous, but the du Ponts provided a host of benefits to their workers. As a result, the Irish remained loyal to their employers, convinced by their everyday experiences that their interests and the du Ponts' were one and the same. Employing a wide array of sources, Mulrooney turns away from the worksite and toward the domestic sphere, revealing that powder mill families asserted their distinctive ethno-religious heritage at the same time as they embraced what U.S. capitalism had to offer.