Local histories can provide a microcosm of broader state, regional, national, and even international events, something Courtney Hartness had done exceptionally well in her book, “Our Country First, Then Greenville.” Indeed, Hartness’ history of Greenville is arguably one microcosm within another, for her interest is not the entire history of that city but only the years of World War I. She demonstrates that at a time of domestic reform and international strife, Greenville simultaneously was forward-looking yet unable to escape its past.

In writing her monograph, Hartness mined a wide array of sources, ranging from more than a dozen archives both within and outside South Carolina to numerous newspapers, government documents, books, and articles. She found that Greenville’s leaders adopted the ideas both of the “New South,” years before use of that term, and the Progressive movement that had appeared by the late 1800s. Like the proponents of the New South, the Page 231 →city had begun to industrialize and seek to end post-Civil War animosities. Like the Progressives, Greenvillians touted their efforts at beautification, restricting alcohol, enhancing educational standards, and improving their local and regional transportation infrastructure.

Yet for all of its efforts to highlight its modern and progressive credentials, Greenville could not escape its past. For all their talk of social justice, Progressives nationally gave little attention to African-American rights. Such was the case in Greenville, which, like many other southern municipalities, remained a segregated city. Similarly, calls for suffrage for women found a largely cold reception among the political elite in both South Carolina and Greenville. “Whether Greenvillians were or were not progressive,” writes Hartness, “is debatable; whether Greenville’s leaders wanted to be progressive and saw themselves as such is not.”

World War I, which underlies the majority of the chapters in the book, did little to change these trends. Before and during America’s entrance into that conflict, Greenville’s white population joined broader homefront initiatives, such as raising money and conserving food. The city’s leaders sought to become the site of a military training camp, believing it would be economically beneficial. They were pleased to learn in 1917 that they would be the site of Camp Sevier. Indeed, the US government put many of these training camps in the South to break down still simmering post-Civil War divisions and “imbue those communities and their soldiers with a heightened state of nationalism.” Women did their part, providing support for the troops at Camp Sevier, raising money, taking the jobs of men who left to fight, and joining the Progressives’ effort to combat prostitution—the last of which became a growing problem once Port Sevier opened. African Americans in the community sought to help as well, raising funds and offering to combat enemy forces abroad.

Still, Greenville remained stuck in the past. Both at a national and local level, suffragists hoped that women’s support for the war effort would lead to them winning the right to vote, yet local and state leaders remained opposed to granting them that right. Indeed, despite the fact that the Nineteenth Amendment, passed in 1920, granted suffrage to women, South Carolina itself did not ratify it until 1969.

Nor did life change significantly for African Americans. About nine hundred Blacks from Greenville served in the war, but, as was the case for others who joined the armed forces, they found a military that discriminated against them, whether it be at Camp Sevier or in Europe, and a reluctance to allow them in combat. At home, President Woodrow Wilson showed little interest Page 232 →in protecting African Americans’ rights. The War Department touted that its collegiate Student Army Training Corps (SATC) program would not make “distinctions … in race, color or creed.” Yet because college administrators oversaw the SATC, southern institutions of higher education, including Furman, adhered to their segregationist policies. It is understandable, therefore, why many southern Blacks, including a significant number from Greenville, left the South and headed north, where they hoped to find better jobs and greater acceptance.

Hartness is careful to note that there were exceptions to the rule. The fighting prowess of African Americans, when given the chance to fight, impressed their white comrades. When the Spanish flu epidemic hit Greenville in 1918, the need for medical personnel gave African-American nurses an opportunity to offer their services, which meant working alongside white nurses at camps like Sevier. Despite resistance among white nurses to work hand in hand with Black peers, the latter received praise from their superiors for the quality of their work. The fact remained, however, that African Americans, who had hoped their service during World War I might lead to an improvement in their socioeconomic status, found that little had changed afterward, whether it be at the national or, in the case of Greenville, the local level. Greenville’s leaders continued to point to their city’s progressive credentials, but “white citizens found the community far more attractive than African Americans did.”

Hartness ends the book with a poignant epilogue that attests to the struggles Americans continue to face as they confront their national, state, and local histories. Using the theme of memorialization, she points out that it took decades for Greenvillians to recognize the contributions of the local African-American community to their city’s history. One example was the founding in 2022 of a new public space called Unity Park. Yet a mile away stands a memorial honoring those who fought the Union during the Civil War. Hence, even today, Greenville, like so many other towns and cities, continues to struggle with its past.

Scott Kaufman, Francis Marion University