Dr Lorenzo Cantoni

Dr Lorenzo Cantoni

Lorenzo de' Medici

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Lorenzo de’ Medici, byname Lorenzo the Magnificent, Italian Lorenzo il Magnifico, (born January 1, 1449, Florence [Italy]—died April 9, 1492, Careggi, near Florence), Florentine statesman, ruler, and patron of arts and letters, the most brilliant of the Medici. He ruled Florence with his younger brother, Giuliano (1453–78), from 1469 to 1478 and, after the latter’s assassination, was sole ruler from 1478 to 1492.

Why is Lorenzo de’ Medici significant?

Known as Lorenzo the Magnificent, the Florentine statesman and arts patron is considered the most brilliant of the Medici. He ruled Florence for some 20 years in the 15th century, during which time he brought stability to the region. In the field of arts, he notably advanced the careers of Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci.

What was Lorenzo de’ Medici’s family like?

The Medici were one of Italy’s most storied families. They ruled Florence and, later, Tuscany in the 15th–18th century and promoted the Italian Renaissance. In addition, they provided the Roman Catholic Church with four popes (Leo X, Clement VII, Pius IV, and Leo XI), and two Medici women (Catherine and Marie) became queens of France.

How did Lorenzo de’ Medici die?

In declining health for some three years, Lorenzo died on April 9, 1492, at age 43. While on his deathbed, he was visited by Girolamo Savonarola, a Christian preacher and reformer who would overthrow Medici rule in Florence two years later.

E-Learning in Tourism and Hospitality

eLearning in tourism and hospitality is one of the recent research lines of webatelier.net. This research line stays in the overlapping area between eLearning and eTourism, approaching it from the viewpoint of the academic research and hospitality and tourism industry consultancy projects, including development and testing activities.

eLearning, distance learning, online training, blended learning, educational technology, open education, training assessment, human recourse management, MOOCs

webatelier.net laboratory Institute for Communication Technologies Università della Svizzera Italiana

Research projects in this research area

Extensive case studies with two National DMOs (Switzerland Tourism and New Zealand Tourism Board) on evaluation of management practices of destinational eLearning courses design, development and implementation.

Evaluation through phone interviews of motivations travel agents in the United Kingdom, New Zealand and India have on undertaking a training activity about tourism destination online.

Design, development and promotion of an online training course for Swiss regional tourism destination – Ticino Turismo

Design and development of an educational online game for hospitality workers in South Africa

Publications published by this institute characterizing this research area

Journals peer reviewed Kalbaska, N. (2014). National Tourism Organizations’ online training offer. Switzerland Travel Academy Case Study. “ELC Research Paper Series”, 8, 35-44.

Adukaite, A., Kalbaska, N. & Cantoni, L. (2014). E-learning on tourism destinations. The case of Ticino Switzerland Travel Specialist course. “ELC Research Paper Series”, 8, 27-34.

Murphy, J., Kalbaska, N., Williams, A., Ryan, P., Cantoni, L., & Horton-Tognazzini, L. (2014). Massive Open Online Courses: Strategies and Research Areas. Journal of Hospitality & Tourism Education, 26, 1-5.

Kalbaska, N., Lee, A., Cantoni, L., Law, R. (2013). UK travel agents’ evaluation of eLearning courses offered by destinations. An exploratory study. Journal of Hospitality, Leisure, Sport & Tourism Education, 12(1), 7-14.

Kalbaska, N. (2012).Travel Agents and Destination Management Organizations: eLearning as a strategy to train tourism trade partners. Journal of Information Technology & Tourism, 13(1), 1- 12.

Kalbaska, N., Jovic, A., Cantoni, L. (2012). Usability evaluation of an eLearning course presenting a regional destination. The case of “Ticino Switzerland Travel Specialist”. e-Review of Tourism Research (eRTR) Special issue - ENTER 2012 Idea Exchange Papers, 10(2), 31-34. Available at: http://ertr.tamu.edu/

Cantoni, L., Kalbaska, N., Inversini, A. (2009). eLearning in Tourism and Hospitality: A Map, JoHLSTE – Journal of Hospitality, Leisure, Sport & Tourism Education, 8(2), 148-156.

Miralbell, O., Cantoni, L. & Kalbaska, N. (2014). The role of e-learning applications within the tourism sector. “ELC Research Paper Series”, 8, 1-68.

Van Zyl, I., Kalbaska, N., Cantoni, L. (2015). The use of eLearning courses in African-based travel trade – an evaluation survey. Contemporary Issues in Tourism and Development in Sub-Sahara Africa.

Kalbaska, N. (2013). Formazione Turistica Mediata dalle Nuove Tecnologie. In. Inversini, A. & Cantoni, L. (Eds.) Nuovi Media nella Comunicazione Turistica. Roma: Società Editrice Dante Alighieri.

Conferences with proceedings

Kalbaska, N., Cantoni, L. (2014). eLearning Courses Offered by tourism destinations: Factors Affecting Participation and Awareness among British and Indian Travel Agents. In Z. Xiang & I.Tussyadiah (Eds.), Information and Communication Technologies in Tourism - Proceedings of the International Conference in Dublin (Ireland). New York: Springer, pp. 763-777. http://www.springer.com/business+%26+management/business+information+systems/book/978-3-319-03972-5

Kalbaska, N., & Cantoni, L. (2013). e-Learning courses on travel destinations. An exploratory study on Indian travel agents perspective. In J. Fountain & K. Moore (eds.), CAUTHE 2013: Tourism and Global Change: On the Edge of Something Big. Christchurch, N.Z.: Lincoln University, pp. 395-399. ISBN: 9780864762832. Available at http://search.informit.com.au/documentSummarydn=513061419609413res=IELBUS

Kalbaska, N., Sorokolit, O., Cantoni, L. (2012). Development and evaluation of an eLearning course presenting a regional destination. The case of Ticino Switzerland Travel Specialist. Proceedings of the EuroChrie - Hospitality for a better world Conference 2012. Ecole Hoteliere Lausanne, Switzerland. 25-27 October 2012, pp. 406-415.

Cantoni, L., Kalbaska, N. (2010). eLearning offers by Destination Management Organizations. In W. Hopken, U. Gretzel & R. Law (Eds.), Information and Communication Technologies in Tourism - Proceedings of the International Conference in Lugano. Wien: Springer, pp. 247-261.

Cantoni L., Kalbaska, N. (2010). The Waiter Game: Structure and Development of an Hospitality Training Game. In Debattista, K., Dickey, M., Proenca, A., Santos, L. P. Proceedings of 2nd International Conference on Games and Virtual Worlds for Serious Applications VS-GAMES 2010, IEEE, pp. 83-87.

Contributions to conferences

Kalbaska, N. (2014). Massive Open Online Courses: Future Education in Hospitality and Tourism. 12th ApacCHRIE conference. Kuala Lumpur (Malaysia), May 2014.

Kalbaska, N., Cantoni, L. (2014). Factors influencing participation in and awareness about eLearning courses on tourism destinations among travel agents based in India and New Zealand. 12th ApacCHRIE conference. Kuala Lumpur (Malaysia), May 2014.

Murphy, J., Ryan, P., Horton-Tognazzini, L., Kalbaska, N., Cantoni, L. (2014). A Framework for Online Learning. 12th ApacCHRIE conference. Kuala Lumpur (Malaysia), May 2014.

Kalbaska, N. (2014). MOOCs Development for Tourism and Hospitality Curriculum. ENTER2014 - International Conference on Information and Communication Technologies in Tourism. Dublin (Ireland), January 2014.

Murphy, J., Williams, A., Ryan, P., Kalbaska, N., Cantoni. L. (2013). Tourism and Hospitality Massive Open Online Courses (MOOCs): An Overview and Diffusion Considerations. EuroCHRIE 2013 Cooperative Education and Research for Hospitality and Tourism. Freiburg (Germany), October 2013.

Adukaite, A., Kalbaska, N., Cantoni, L. (2013). eLearning on tourism destinations between formal and informal learning. SSRE2013 Conference Integrating formal and informal learning. Lugano (Switzerland), August 2013. Short-listed for best-paper award. Cantoni, L., Kalbaska, N. (2013). Travel agents’ learning about tourism destinations. Self-directed learning as ‘entrepreneurial’ learning? Academy of Management Africa Conference at the Gordon Institute of Business Science, Johannesburg, (South Africa), January 2013.

Kalbaska, N., Van Zyl, I. & Cantoni, L. (2012). eLearning Courses on Travel Destinations: Perceptions of African Travel Agents. eLearning Africa 2012 - International Conference on ICT for Development, Education and Training, Cotonou, (Benin), May 2012.

1975 oral history interview transcript: Dr. James N. Freeman

Lincoln University, Jefferson City Missouri

Transcript of the 1975 interview with Dr. James N. Freeman by Elbert Bennett relative to the growth and development of Lincoln University. Dr. James N. Freeman was the Head of Agricultural Department. He served at Lincoln University for 36 years when the interview took place.

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“A week after surgery, we did a biopsy, and that didn’t heal very well,” Fearing said. “I had a lot of internal bleeding, and it was probably the most painful experience of my life.”

Doctors at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago, where Fearing was being treated, informed him that they would most likely need to remove the new kidney. But instead of just throwing the organ away – which is the case for all failed organ transplants – Fearing was told he could do something that had never been done before: donate the kidney to another person.

“They gave me the option to see if I wanted to keep it in longer,” Fearing said. “But with the fact that it was three days after the transplant, and there were already signs of the disease recurring, and it didn’t seem like they could turn it around - the decision was a no brainer.”

“The choice was either to destroy this gift to me or try to help someone else,” he said.

Fearing’s decision to “re-donate” his kidney paved the way for the first ever donated kidney to be removed from its original recipient and transplanted again into a new patient – the third person to have the organ.

From trash to treasure

Fearing had been prepared early on for the possibility that the new kidney would not work.

“When patients [with FSGS] get transplanted, there is a 50 percent chance of recurrence – that the illness will come back,” said Dr. Lorenzo Gallon, transplant nephrologist and medical director of the kidney transplant program at Northwestern, as well as one of the doctors who treated Fearing. “We did all the therapy we could to save the kidney, but the kidney still started failing.”

Typically when surgeons remove a failed organ transplant, they just toss it in the trash. But because of the nature of Fearing’s illness, Gallon knew that the kidney wasn’t completely useless and could be utilized again.

“The disease that Ray has is within the blood,” Gallon said. “So the idea was if we took the kidney out of Ray, the kidney would not be exposed to what Ray has. Then maybe if it goes into someone else who did not have the same disease that Ray had, it’ll heal them.”

So instead of simply throwing out failed kidney transplants in the future, Gallon said surgeons can possibly decide whether or not the organ has just enough damage to be used again. However, the decision to re-transplant must be made fairly quickly after the first transplant.

“This could not have been done three years after transplantation,” Gallon said. “The longer the kidney stays in the body, the more scar tissue forms on the kidney to the point where it might become irreversible damage. Then it would be almost impossible to remove it.”

According to Gallon, Fearing’s quick decision-making contributed to the operation’s success, as well as a possible medical model for the future.

“Ray is an incredible person,” Gallon said. “This kid is in the storm of a disease, and he has the strength to think about someone else. It was really an altruistic gesture.”

Just two weeks after first being transplanted into Fearing, the kidney was removed and given to 67-year-old surgeon and father of five, Erwin Gomez.

Gomez had been diagnosed with end stage kidney disease a year earlier. While he had been on dialysis to treat the condition, his health was still deteriorating. He decided to consult with physicians at Northwestern to be considered for a kidney transplant, and to his surprise, they approached him with a novel idea.

“This was a chance for me to get a kidney early,” Gomez said. “I was one of three people who were good matches to the kidney. Dr. Gollam explained to me that the kidney was not a ‘perfect’ kidney and that it had been transplanted into a person and had been damaged by circulating antibodies. But he explained to me that the problems were reversible. I discussed this and with some hesitation, we considered it.”

Just 24 hours after surgery, the kidney regained full basic function within Gomez. A week later, the damage caused by the FSGS in Fearing’s body had been completely reversed.

Now, almost a year later, Gomez is back to his old self.

“I gained back my weight and my strength, and I’m thinking of going back to work,” Gomez said. “I cannot express my gratitude enough to Dr. Gallon and to Ray.”

Meanwhile Fearing is back on dialysis to control his FSGS. Once his disease becomes less aggressive, Gollan and Fearing are determined to transplant him again.

“I’m very hopeful now,” Fearing said. “And it’s much easier for me now knowing I was able to help someone else. Plus they have a better understanding of my disease now and how this transplant of organs works from person to person. It could very well change people’s experience in the future.”

Lorenzo Johnston Greene (1899-1988)

Dr. Lorenzo Johnston Greene was a pioneering African American historian. Greene was born on November 16, 1899 in Ansonia, Connecticut. He received his BA from Howard University in Washington, D.C. in 1924 and his MA in history from Columbia University in 1926. From 1928 to 1933, Greene served as a field representative and research assistant to Carter Woodson, the director of the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History (now the Association for the Study of Afro-American Life and History, ASALH) in Washington, D.C. This collaboration helped inspire the 1930 publication with Woodson of The Negro Wage Earner. In 1931, Greene published The Employment of Negroes in the District of Columbia, a collaborative effort with Myra C. Callis. Both studies demonstrate Greene’s interest in urban history, social history, and race relations. Although he was inspired by Woodson and saw him as a mentor, Greene made his own lasting contributions to the field of history. His most significant academic work was a pioneering study of blacks in Missouri entitled Missouri’s Black Heritage published in 1980 as a collaborative effort with Antonio F. Holland and Gary Kremer.

Lorenzo Greene served as instructor and professor of history at Lincoln University in Jefferson City, Missouri from 1933 to 1972. During this period he continued his graduate studies and received his Ph.D. in history from Columbia University in 1942. That same year, he published The Negro in Colonial New England, 1620-1776. His interest in race and labor issues helped to revolutionize labor historiography with a greater emphasis on African Americans and other laborers, both free and unfree. The Negro in Colonial New England is still considered the foundational work on the subject.

Professor Greene served on a number of committees and associations and was editor of the Midwest Journal from 1947 to 1956. He was also the President of the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History from 1965 to 1966. Greene’s academic interests included urban history, race and labor in Colonial America, Missouri history, the American Midwest, and New England history.

Dr. Greene’s interest in racial justice issues led him to serve as the Chairman of the Subcommittee on Education of the Missouri Advisory Committee to the United States Commission on Civil Rights from 1959 to 1961. Greene worked actively on educational issues in Missouri and spearheaded efforts to desegregate Kansas City schools in the early 1970s.

Lorenzo Greene married Thomasina Tally in 1942. He died on January 24, 1988 in Jefferson City, Missouri. His Working with Carter G. Woodson, the Father of Black History, a Diary, 1928-1930 was published posthumously. The Lorenzo Johnston Greene Papers are now available at the Library of Congress.


Thomas James DiLorenzo grew up in western Pennsylvania, descended from Italian immigrants. In an autobiographical essay he attributes his early commitment to individualism to "playing competitive sports." His view of politicians in the small western cities of the state was that they were in it for personal aggrandizement. [8] He thought his family and neighbors worked hard and perceived other people getting advantages from the government. As a youth in the 1960s, he began to think that the "government was busy destroying the work ethic, the family, and the criminal justice system." [8] Although too young to worry about the Vietnam War draft, he concluded that other young men turned themselves inside out to avoid it, or came back silenced by what they had done and seen. These conclusions led him to the opinion that politics were "evil". [8]

DiLorenzo began to study libertarianism in college, which he says helped him gain perspective on his developing ideas. [8] He has a B.A. in Economics from Westminster College in Pennsylvania. [9] He holds a Ph.D. in Economics from Virginia Tech. [2]

He is a former adjunct fellow of the Center for the Study of American Business at Washington University in St. Louis. [10] [14] Since 1992, he has been a professor of economics at Loyola University Maryland Sellinger School of Business. [10]

DiLorenzo is a frequent speaker at von Mises Institute events, and offers several online courses on political subjects on the Mises Academy platform. [5] He also writes for the blog, LewRockwell.com. [15]

DiLorenzo writes about what he calls "the myth of Lincoln" in American history and politics. He has said, "[President] Lincoln is on record time after time rejecting the idea of racial equality. But whenever anyone brings this up, the Lincoln partisans go to the extreme to smear the bearer of bad news." [16] [17] DiLorenzo has also spoken out in favor of the secession of the Confederate States of America, defending the right of these states to secede. [18]

DiLorenzo is critical of neoconservatism and endless military interventionism. [19] He has also made the case about how the military does not protect the U.S. and how it lies about it. [20]

DiLorenzo's book, The Real Lincoln: A New Look at Abraham Lincoln, His Agenda, and an Unnecessary War is a critical biography published in 2002. [21] In a review published by the Ludwig von Mises Institute, David Gordon described DiLorenzo's thesis: Lincoln was a "white supremacist" with no principled interest in abolishing slavery, and believed in a strong central government that imposed high tariffs and a nationalized banking system. He attributes the South's secession to Lincoln's economic policies rather than a desire to preserve slavery. Gordon quotes DiLorenzo: "slavery was already in sharp decline in the border states and the upper South generally, mostly for economic reasons". [22]

Writing for The Daily Beast, Rich Lowry described DiLorenzo's technique in this book as the following: "His scholarship, such as it is, consists of rummaging through the record for anything he can find to damn Lincoln, stripping it of any nuance or context, and piling on pejorative adjectives. In DiLorenzo, the Lincoln-haters have found a champion with the judiciousness and the temperament they deserve." [23]

Reviewing for The Independent Review, a think tank associated with DiLorenzo, Richard M. Gamble called the book a "travesty of historical method and documentation". He said the book was plagued by a "labyrinth of [historical and grammatical] errors", and concluded that DiLorenzo has "earned the . ridicule of his critics." [24] In his review for the Claremont Institute, Ken Masugi writes that "DiLorenzo adopts as his own the fundamental mistake of leftist multi-culturalist historians: confusing the issue of race with the much more fundamental one, which was slavery." He noted that in Illinois "the anti-slavery forces actually joined with racists to keep their state free of slavery, and also free of blacks." Masugi called DiLorenzo's work "shabby" and stated that DiLorenzo's treatment of Lincoln was "feckless" and that the book is "truly awful". [25] [26] In 2002, DiLorenzo debated Claremont Institute fellow professor Harry V. Jaffa on the merits of Abraham Lincoln's statesmanship before and during the Civil War. [27]

DiLorenzo's book, Lincoln Unmasked: What You're Not Supposed to Know About Dishonest Abe (2007), continues his explorations begun in The Real Lincoln. [28] In a review, David Gordon stated that DiLorenzo's thesis in the 2007 volume was that Lincoln opposed the extension of slavery to new states because black labor would compete with white labor that Lincoln hoped that all blacks would eventually be deported to Africa in order that white laborers could have more work. According to Gordon, DiLorenzo states that Lincoln supported emancipation of slaves only as a wartime expedient to help defeat the South. [29]

Reviews in The Washington Post and Publishers Weekly both stated that the book seemed directed at unnamed scholars who had praised Lincoln's contributions. Justin Ewers criticized DiLorenzo, saying this book "is more of a diatribe against a mostly unnamed group of Lincoln scholars than a real historical analysis. His wild assertions – for example, that Lincoln held 'lifelong white supremacist views' – don't help his argument." [30] Publishers Weekly described this as a "screed," in which DiLorenzo "charges that most scholars of the Civil War are part of a 'Lincoln cult'" he particularly attacks scholar Eric Foner, characterizing him and others as "cover-up artists" and "propagandists." [31]

In a 2009 review of three newly published books on Lincoln, historian Brian Dirck linked the earlier work of Thomas DiLorenzo with that of Lerone Bennett, another critic of Lincoln. He wrote that "Few Civil War scholars take Bennett and DiLorenzo seriously, pointing to their narrow political agenda and faulty research." [32]

A Brief History of Tango

Tango is one of the world’s most beautiful dances. It’s charged with energy, elegance and poise. The music that accompanies it is poetic and eccentric. The Tango has become a cultural emblem for Argentina and Uruguay and is danced around the world. In 2009, the UNESCO declared the Tango to be part of the world’s ‘cultural heritage’ and granted it protection.

Tango’s origins are not glitzy. Most reckon that Tango was born in the slums of Buenos Aires at the turn of the 20th century. At the time, Argentina was booming Buenos Aires was a financial centre and a trading hub. Outside the city, the frontier agricultural lands of the Pampas were being rapidly developed drawing in migrants from all over the world. But the country’s wealth distribution was also staggeringly unequal, and migrants and locals alike often ended up in the sprawling slums which enveloped around the Port of Buenos Aires on the River Plata. They became Porteños, the name given to residents of Buenos Aires. The literal translation is port person.

Most of those living in the slums were employed in the meatpacking industry. New railroads brought cattle from the Pampas to the port area where it was slaughtered, packed and shipped around the world. Much of this industry was run by British firms and financial interests. If you stroll through Buenos Aires, one will still be unexpectedly struck by peculiar remnants of British influence near the port A village clock here, a train station there.

The slums of Buenos Aires became a melting pot of peoples and cultures. Most migrants came from Italy, Spain and Germany. They brought with them things like violins, cellos, pianos, and, one imagines, a deep sense of nostalgia for their previous homelands. These migrants mixed with Argentine blacks and Gauchos (Argentine Cowboys) who brought a mix of African rhythms, a dance called the candombe and jaunty music known as ‘the milonga’ to the table. At some point, someone threw a Bandoneon into the mix for good measure. From the chaos, Tango was born.

For a while, Tango only existed in the slums of Buenos Aires. It’s widely asserted that most of the dance’s early development took place in bars and brothels. The dance was largely ignored by rich Argentines until the 1920’s when, quite unexpectedly, The Tango made it back to Europe where it became a raging hit. In the end, it was Paris, not Buenos Aires, that popularised the Tango.

Since then, the fortunes of Tango have waxed and waned. Under the government of Juan Peron in the 1930s, Tango became widely fashionable and a major part of Argentina’s national identity. In the 1950s, a string of military dictators with a strong distaste for public gatherings pulled Tango’s numbers down. The advent of Rock and Roll almost killed the dance altogether.

More recently, however, Tango has enjoyed a cultural resurgence. London has become something of a Tango capital – Your writer regularly hears of the debauchery of all night Tango parties which take place in the bars of Soho – Several European cities have similarly emerged to become Tango hubs, and ‘Tango Marathons’, consecutive days of non-stop dancing, regularly take place in cities all over the world. And far away, in the dusty halls on the banks of the River Plata, Porteños of all types also unite together to drink in the nostalgic whines of the Bandoneon and dance.

We still lie about slavery: Here's the truth about how the American economy and power were built on forced migration and torture

By Edward E. Baptist
Published September 7, 2014 3:30PM (EDT)

The Shores family, near Westerville, Neb., in 1887. Jerry Shores was one of a number of former slaves to settle in Custer County. (AP/Solomon D. Butcher)


A beautiful late April day, seventy-two years after slavery ended in the United States. Claude Anderson parks his car on the side of Holbrook Street in Danville. On the porch of number 513, he rearranges the notepads under his arm. Releasing his breath in a rush of decision, he steps up to the door of the handmade house and knocks.

Danville is on the western edge of the Virginia Piedmont. Back in 1865, it had been the last capital of the Confederacy. Or so Jefferson Davis had proclaimed on April 3, after he fled Richmond. Davis stayed a week, but then he had to keep running. The blue-coated soldiers of the Army of the Potomac were hot on his trail. When they got to Danville, they didn’t find the fugitive rebel. But they did discover hundreds of Union prisoners of war locked in the tobacco warehouses downtown. The bluecoats, rescuers and rescued, formed up and paraded through town. Pouring into the streets around them, dancing and singing, came thousands of African Americans. They had been prisoners for far longer.

In the decades after the jubilee year of 1865, Danville, like many other southern villages, had become a cotton factory town. Anderson, an African-American master’s student from Hampton University, would not have been able to work at the segregated mill. But the Works Progress Administration (WPA), a bureau of the federal government created by President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal, would hire him. To put people back to work after they had lost their jobs in the Great Depression, the WPA organized thousands of projects, hiring construction workers to build schools and artists to paint murals. And many writers and students were hired to interview older Americans—like Lorenzo Ivy, the man painfully shuffling across the pine board floor to answer Anderson’s knock.

Anderson had found Ivy’s name in the Hampton University archives, two hundred miles east of Danville. Back in 1850, when Lorenzo had been born in Danville, there was neither a university nor a city called Hampton—just an American fort named after a slaveholder president. Fortress Monroe stood on Old Point Comfort, a narrow triangle of land that divided the Chesapeake Bay from the James River. Long before the fort was built, in April 1607, the Susan Constant had sailed past the point with a boatload of English settlers. Anchoring a few miles upriver, they had founded Jamestown, the first permanent English- speaking settlement in North America. Twelve years later, the crews of two storm-damaged English privateers also passed, seeking shelter and a place to sell the twenty- odd enslaved Africans (captured from a Portuguese slaver) lying shackled in their holds.

After that first 1619 shipload, some 100,000 more enslaved Africans would sail upriver past Old Point Comfort. Lying in chains in the holds of slave ships, they could not see the land until they were brought up on deck to be sold. After the legal Atlantic slave trade to the United States ended in 1807, hundreds of thousands more enslaved people passed the point. Now they were going the other way, boarding ships at Richmond, the biggest eastern center of the internal slave trade, to go by sea to the Mississippi Valley.

By the time a dark night came in late May 1861, the moon had waxed and waned three thousand times over slavery in the South. To protect slavery, Virginia had just seceded from the United States, choosing a side at last after six months of indecision in the wake of South Carolina’s rude exit from the Union. Fortress Monroe, built to protect the James River from ocean- borne invaders, became the Union’s last toehold in eastern Virginia. Rebel troops entrenched themselves athwart the fort’s landward approaches. Local planters, including one Charles Mallory, detailed enslaved men to build berms to shelter the besiegers’ cannon. But late this night, Union sentries on the fort’s seaward side saw a small skiff emerging slowly from the darkness. Frank Baker and Townshend rowed with muffled oars. Sheppard Mallory held the tiller. They were setting themselves free.

A few days later, Charles Mallory showed up at the gates of the Union fort. He demanded that the commanding federal officer, Benjamin Butler, return his property. Butler, a politician from Massachusetts, was an incompetent battlefield commander, but a clever lawyer. He replied that if the men were Mallory’s property, and he was using them to wage war against the US government, then logically the men were therefore contraband of war.

Those first three “contrabands” struck a crack in slavery’s centuries-old wall. Over the next four years, hundreds of thousands more enslaved people widened the crack into a gaping breach by escaping to Union lines. Their movement weakened the Confederate war effort and made it easier for the United States and its president to avow mass emancipation as a tool of war. Eventually the Union Army began to welcome formerly enslaved men into its ranks, turning refugee camps into recruiting stations—and those African-American soldiers would make the difference between victory and defeat for the North, which by late 1863 was exhausted and uncertain.

After the war, Union officer Samuel Armstrong organized literacy programs that had sprung up in the refugee camp at Old Point Comfort to form Hampton Institute. In 1875, Lorenzo Ivy traveled down to study there, on the ground zero of African- American history. At Hampton, he acquired an education that enabled him to return to Danville as a trained schoolteacher. He educated generations of African-American children. He built the house on Holbrook Street with his own Hampton-trained hands, and there he sheltered his father, his brother, his sister-in-law, and his nieces and nephews. In April 1937, Ivy opened the door he’d made with hands and saw and plane, and it swung clear for Claude Anderson without rubbing the frame.

Anderson’s notepads, however, were accumulating evidence of two very different stories of the American past—halves that did not fit together neatly. And he was about to hear more. Somewhere in the midst of the notepads was a typed list of questions supplied by the WPA. Questions often reveal the desired answer. By the 1930s, most white Americans had been demanding for decades that they hear only a sanitized version of the past into which Lorenzo Ivy had been born. This might seem strange. In the middle of the nineteenth century, white Americans had gone to war with each other over the future of slavery in their country, and slavery had lost. Indeed, for a few years after 1865, many white northerners celebrated emancipation as one of their collective triumphs. Yet whites’ belief in the emancipation made permanent by the Thirteenth Amendment, much less in the race- neutral citizenship that the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments had written into the Constitution, was never that deep. Many northerners had only supported Benjamin Butler and Abraham Lincoln’s moves against slavery because they hated the arrogance of slaveholders like Charles Mallory. And after 1876, northern allies abandoned southern black voters.

Within half a century after Butler sent Charles Mallory away from Fortress Monroe empty-handed, the children of white Union and Confederate soldiers united against African-American political and civil equality. This compact of white supremacy enabled southern whites to impose Jim Crow segregation on public space, disfranchise African- American citizens by barring them from the polls, and use the lynch- mob noose to enforce black compliance. White Americans imposed increased white supremacy outside the South, too. In non- Confederate states, many restaurants wouldn’t serve black customers. Stores and factories refused to hire African Americans. Hundreds of midwestern communities forcibly evicted African-American residents and became “sundown towns” (“Don’t let the sun set on you in this town”). Most whites, meanwhile, believed that science proved that there were biologically distinct human races, and that Europeans were members of the superior one. Anglo- Americans even believed that they were distinct from and superior to the Jews from Russia, Italians, Greeks, Slavs, and others who flooded Ellis Island and changed the culture of northern urban centers.

By the early twentieth century, America’s first generation of professional historians were justifying the exclusions of Jim Crow and disfranchisement by telling a story about the nation’s past of slavery and civil war that seemed to confirm, for many white Americans, that white supremacy was just and necessary. Above all, the historians of a reunified white nation insisted that slavery was a premodern institution that was not committed to profit-seeking. In so doing, historians were to some extent only repeating pre–Civil War debates: abolitionists had depicted slavery not only as a psychopathic realm of whipping, rape, and family separation, but also as a flawed economic system that was inherently less efficient than the free- labor capitalism developing in the North. Proslavery writers disagreed about the psychopathy, but by the 1850s they agreed that enslavers were first and foremost not profit-seekers. For them, planters were caring masters who considered their slaves to be inferior family members. So although anti- and proslavery conclusions about slavery’s morality were different, their premises about slavery-as- a-business model matched. Both agreed that slavery was inherently unprofitable. It was an old, static system that belonged to an earlier time. Slave labor was inefficient to begin with, slave productivity did not increase to keep pace with industrialization, and enslavers did not act like modern profit- seeking businessmen. As a system, slavery had never adapted or changed to thrive in the new industrial economy—let alone to play a premier role as a driver of economic expansion—and had been little more than a drag on the explosive growth that had built the modern United States. In fact, during the Civil War, northerners were so convinced of these points that they believed that shifting from slave labor to free labor would dramatically increase cotton productivity.

It didn’t. But even though the data of declining productivity over the ensuing three score and ten years suggested that slavery might have been the most efficient way to produce the world’s most important crop, no one let empirical tests change their minds. Instead, historians of Woodrow Wilson’s generation imprinted the stamp of academic research on the idea that slavery was separate from the great economic and social transformations of the Western world during the nineteenth century. After all, it did not rely upon ever-more efficient machine labor. Its unprofitable economic structures supposedly produced antique social arrangements, and the industrializing, urbanizing world looked back toward them with contempt—or, increasingly, nostalgia. Many whites, now proclaiming that science proved that people of African descent were intellectually inferior and congenitally prone to criminal behavior, looked wistfully to a past when African Americans had been governed with whips and chains. Granted, slavery as an economic system was not modern, they said, and had neither changed to adapt to the modern economy nor contributed to economic expansion. But to an openly racist historical profession—and a white history- reading, history-thinking public obsessed with all kinds of race control—the white South’s desire to whitewash slavery in the past, and maintain segregation now and forever, served the purpose of validating control over supposedly premodern, semi-savage black people.

Such stories about slavery shaped the questions Claude Anderson was to ask in the 1930s, because you could find openly racist versions of it baked into the recipe of every American textbook. You could find it in popular novels, politicians’ speeches, plantation-nostalgia advertising, and even the first blockbuster American film: Birth of a Nation. As president, Woodrow Wilson—a southern-born history professor—called this paean to white supremacy “history written with lightning,” and screened it at the White House. Such ideas became soaked into the way America publicly depicted slavery. Even many of those who believed that they rejected overt racism depicted the era before emancipation as a plantation idyll of happy slaves and paternalist masters. Abolitionists were snakes in the garden, responsible for a Civil War in which hundreds of thousands of white people died. Maybe the end of slavery had to come for the South to achieve economic modernity, but it didn’t have to come that way, they said.

The way that Americans remember slavery has changed dramatically since then. In tandem with widespread desegregation of public spaces and the assertion of black cultural power in the years between World War II and the 1990s came a new understanding of the experience of slavery. No longer did academic historians describe slavery as a school in which patient masters and mistresses trained irresponsible savages for futures of perpetual servitude. Slavery’s denial of rights now prefigured Jim Crow, while enslaved people’s resistance predicted the collective self-assertion that developed into first the civil rights movement and later, Black Power.

But perhaps the changes were not so great as they seemed on the surface. The focus on showing African Americans as assertive rebels, for instance, implied an uncomfortable corollary. If one should be impressed by those who rebelled, because they resisted, one should not be proud of those who did not. And there were very few rebellions in the history of slavery in the United States. Some scholars tried to backfill against this quandary by arguing that all African Americans together created a culture of resistance, especially in slave quarters and other spaces outside of white observation. Yet the insistence that assertive resistance undermined enslavers’ power, and a focus on the development of an independent black culture, led some to believe that enslaved people actually managed to prevent whites from successfully exploiting their labor. This idea, in turn, created a quasi-symmetry with post–Civil War plantation memoirs that portrayed gentle masters, who maintained slavery as a nonprofit endeavor aimed at civilizing Africans.

Thus, even after historians of the civil rights, Black Power, and multicultural eras rewrote segregationists’ stories about gentlemen and belles and grateful darkies, historians were still telling the half that has ever been told. For some fundamental assumptions about the history of slavery and the history of the United States remain strangely unchanged. The first major assumption is that, as an economic system—a way of producing and trading commodities—American slavery was fundamentally different from the rest of the modern economy and separate from it. Stories about industrialization emphasize white immigrants and clever inventors, but they leave out cotton fields and slave labor. This perspective implies not only that slavery didn’t change, but that slavery and enslaved African Americans had little long-term influence on the rise of the United States during the nineteenth century, a period in which the nation went from being a minor European trading partner to becoming the world’s largest economy—one of the central stories of American history.

The second major assumption is that slavery in the United States was fundamentally in contradiction with the political and economic systems of the liberal republic, and that inevitably that contradiction would be resolved in favor of the free-labor North. Sooner or later, slavery would have ended by the operation of historical forces thus, slavery is a story without suspense. And a story with a predetermined outcome isn’t a story at all.

Third, the worst thing about slavery as an experience, one is told, was that it denied enslaved African Americans the liberal rights and liberal subjectivity of modern citizens. It did those things as a matter of course, and as injustice, that denial ranks with the greatest in modern history. But slavery also killed people, in large numbers. From those who survived, it stole everything. Yet the massive and cruel engineering required to rip a million people from their homes, brutally drive them to new, disease-ridden places, and make them live in terror and hunger as they continually built and rebuilt a commodity-generating empire—this vanished in the story of a slavery that was supposedly focused primarily not on producing profit but on maintaining its status as a quasi-feudal elite, or producing modern ideas about race in order to maintain white unity and elite power. And once the violence of slavery was minimized, another voice could whisper, saying that African Americans, both before and after emancipation, were denied the rights of citizens because they would not fight for them.

All these assumptions lead to still more implications, ones that shape attitudes, identities, and debates about policy. If slavery was outside of US history, for instance—if indeed it was a drag and not a rocket booster to American economic growth—then slavery was not implicated in US growth, success, power, and wealth. Therefore none of the massive quantities of wealth and treasure piled by that economic growth is owed to African Americans. Ideas about slavery’s history determine the ways in which Americans hope to resolve the long contradiction between the claims of the United States to be a nation of freedom and opportunity, on the one hand, and, on the other, the unfreedom, the unequal treatment, and the opportunity denied that for most of American history have been the reality faced by people of African descent. Surely, if the worst thing about slavery was that it denied African Americans the liberal rights of the citizen, one must merely offer them the title of citizen—even elect one of them president—to make amends. Then the issue will be put to rest forever.

Slavery’s story gets told in ways that reinforce all these assumptions. Textbooks segregate twenty-five decades of enslavement into one chapter, painting a static picture. Millions of people each year visit plantation homes where guides blather on about furniture and silverware. As sites, such homes hide the real purpose of these places, which was to make African Americans toil under the hot sun for the profit of the rest of the world. All this is the “symbolic annihilation” of enslaved people, as two scholars of those weird places put it.2 Meanwhile, at other points we tell slavery’s story by heaping praise on those who escaped it through flight or death in rebellion, leaving the listener to wonder if those who didn’t flee or die somehow “accepted” slavery. And everyone who teaches about slavery knows a little dirty secret that reveals historians’ collective failure: many African-American students struggle with a sense of shame that most of their ancestors could not escape the suffering they experienced.

The truth can set us free, if we can find the right questions. But back in the little house in Danville, Anderson was reading from a list of leading ones, designed by white officials—some well- meaning, some not so well-meaning. He surely felt how the gravity of the questions pulled him toward the planet of plantation nostalgia. “Did slaves mind being called ‘nigger’?” “What did slaves call master or mistress?” “Have you been happier in slavery or free?” “Was the mansion house pretty?” Escaping from chains is very difficult, however, so Anderson dutifully asked the prescribed questions and poised his pencil to take notes.

Ivy listened politely. He sat still. Then he began to speak: “My mother’s master was named William Tunstall. He was a mean man. There was only one good thing he did, and I don’t reckon he intended to do that. He sold our family to my father’s master George H. Gilman.”

Perhaps the wind blowing through the window changed as a cloud moved across the spring sun: “Old Tunstall caught the ‘cotton fever.’ There was a fever going round, leastways it was like a fever. Everyone was dying to get down south and grow cotton to sell. So old Tunstall separated families right and left. He took two of my aunts and left their husbands up here, and he separated altogether seven husbands and wives. One woman had twelve children. Yessir. Took ‘em all down south with him to Georgia and Alabama.”

Pervasive separations. Tears carving lines on faces. Lorenzo remembered his relief at dodging the worst, but he also remembered knowing that it was just a lucky break. Next time it could’ve been his mother. No white person was reliable, because money drove their decisions. No, this wasn’t the story the books told.

So Anderson moved to the next question. Did Ivy know if any slaves had been sold here? Now, perhaps, the room grew darker.

For more than a century, white people in the United States had been singling out slave traders as an exception: unscrupulous lower-class outsiders who pried apart paternalist bonds. Scapegoaters had a noble precedent. In his first draft of the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson tried to blame King George III for using the Atlantic slave trade to impose slavery on the colonies. In historians’ tellings, the 1808 abolition of the Atlantic trade brought stability to slavery, ringing in the “Old South,” as it has been called since before the Civil War. Of course, one might wonder how something that was brand new, created after a revolution, and growing more rapidly than any other commodity-producing economy in history before then could be considered “old.” But never mind. Historians depicted slave trading after 1808 as irrelevant to what slavery was in the “Old South,” and to how America as a whole was shaped. America’s modernization was about entrepreneurs, creativity, invention, markets, movement, and change. Slavery was not about any of these things—not about slave trading, or moving people away from everyone they knew in order to make them make cotton. Therefore, modern America and slavery had nothing to do with each other.

But Ivy spilled out a rush of very different words. “They sold slaves here and everywhere. I’ve seen droves of Negroes brought in here on foot going South to be sold. Each one of them had an old tow sack on his back with everything he’s got in it. Over the hills they came in lines reaching as far as the eye can see. They walked in double lines chained together by twos. They walk ‘em here to the railroad and shipped ’em south like cattle.”

Then Lorenzo Ivy said this: “Truly, son, the half has never been told.”

To this, day, it still has not. For the other half is the story of how slavery changed and moved and grew over time: Lorenzo Ivy’s time, and that of his parents and grandparents. In the span of a single lifetime after the 1780s, the South grew from a narrow coastal strip of worn-out plantations to a subcontinental empire. Entrepreneurial enslavers moved more than 1 million enslaved people, by force, from the communities that survivors of the slave trade from Africa had built in the South and in the West to vast territories that were seized—also by force—from their Native American inhabitants. From 1783 at the end of the American Revolution to 1861, the number of slaves in the United States increased five times over, and all this expansion produced a powerful nation. For white enslavers were able to force enslaved African-American migrants to pick cotton faster and more efficiently than free people. Their practices rapidly transformed the southern states into the dominant force in the global cotton market, and cotton was the world’s most widely traded commodity at the time, as it was the key raw material during the first century of the industrial revolution. The returns from cotton monopoly powered the modernization of the rest of the American economy, and by the time of the Civil War, the United States had become the second nation to undergo large-scale industrialization. In fact, slavery’s expansion shaped every crucial aspect of the economy and politics of the new nation—not only increasing its power and size, but also, eventually, dividing US politics, differentiating regional identities and interests, and helping to make civil war possible.

The idea that the commodification and suffering and forced labor of African Americans is what made the United States powerful and rich is not an idea that people necessarily are happy to hear. Yet it is the truth. And that truth was the half of the story that survived mostly in the custodianship of those who survived slavery’s expansion—whether they had been taken over the hill, or left behind. Forced migration had shaped their lives, and also had shaped what they thought about their lives and the wider history in which they were enmeshed. Even as they struggled to stay alive in the midst of disruption, they created ways to talk about this half untold. But what survivors experienced, analyzed, and named was a slavery that didn’t fit the comfortable boxes into which other Americans have been trying to fit it ever since it ended.

I read Lorenzo Ivy’s words, and they left me uneasy. I sensed that the true narrative had been left out of history—not only American history in general, but even the history of slavery. I began to look actively for the other half of the story, the one about how slavery constantly grew, changed, and reshaped the modern world. Of how it was both modernizing and modern, and what that meant for the people who lived through its incredible expansion. Once I began to look, I discovered that the traces of the other half were everywhere. The debris of cotton fevers that infected white entrepreneurs and separated man and woman, parent and child, right and left, dusted every set of pre–Civil War letters, newspapers, and court documents. Most of all, the half not told ran like a layer of iridium left by a dinosaur- killing asteroid through every piece of testimony that ex- slaves, such as Lorenzo Ivy, left on the historical record: thousands of stanzas of an epic of forced separations, violence, and new kinds of labor.

For a long time I wasn’t sure how to tell the story of this muscular, dynamic process in a single book. The most difficult challenge was simply the fact that the expansion of slavery in many ways shaped the story of everything in the pre–Civil War United States. Enslavers’ surviving papers showed calculations of returns from slave sales and purchases as well as the costs of establishing new slave labor camps in the cotton states. Newspapers dripped with speculations in land and people and the commodities they produced dramatic changes in how people made money and how much they made and the dramatic violence that accompanied these practices. The accounts of northern merchants and bankers and factory owners showed that they invested in slavery, bought from and sold to slaveholders, and took slices of profit out of slavery’s expansion. Scholars and students talked about politics as a battle about states’ rights or republican principles, but viewed in a different light the fights can be seen as a struggle between regions about how the rewards of slavery’s expansion would be allocated and whether that expansion could continue.

The story seemed too big to fit into one framework. Even Ivy had no idea how to count the chained lines he saw going southwest toward the mountains on the horizon and the vast open spaces beyond. From the 1790s to the 1860s, enslavers moved 1 million people from the old slave states to the new. They went from making no cotton to speak of in 1790 to making almost 2 billion pounds of it in 1860. Stretching out beyond the slave South, the story encompassed not only Washington politicians and voters across the United States but also Connecticut factories, London banks, opium addicts in China, and consumers in East Africa. And could one book do Lorenzo Ivy’s insight justice? It would have to avoid the old platitudes, such as the easy temptation to tell the story as a collection of topics—here a chapter on slave resistance, there one on women and slavery, and so on. That kind of abstraction cuts the beating heart out of the story. For the half untold was a narrative, a process of movement and change and suspense. Things happened because of what had been done before them—and what people chose to do in response.

No, this had to be a story, and one couldn’t tell it solely from the perspective of powerful actors. True, politicians and planters and bankers shaped policies, the movement of people, and the growing and selling of cotton, and even remade the land itself. But when one takes Lorenzo Ivy’s words as a starting point, the whole history of the United States comes walking over the hill behind a line of people in chains. Changes that reshaped the entire world began on the auction block where enslaved migrants stood or in the frontier cotton fields where they toiled. Their individual drama was a struggle to survive. Their reward was to endure a brutal transition to new ways of labor that made them reinvent themselves every day. Enslaved people’s creativity enabled their survival, but, stolen from them in the form of ever- growing cotton productivity, their creativity also expanded the slaveholding South at an unprecedented rate. Enslaved African Americans built the modern United States, and indeed the entire modern world, in ways both obvious and hidden.

One day I found a metaphor that helped. It came from the great African-American author Ralph Ellison. You might know his novel Invisible Man. But in the 1950s, Ellison also produced incredible essays. In one of them he wrote, “On the moral level I propose we view the whole of American life as a drama enacted on the body of a Negro giant who, lying trussed up like Gulliver, forms the stage and the scene upon which and within which the action unfolds.”

The image fit the story that Ivy’s words raised above the watery surface of buried years. The only problem was that Ellison’s image implied a stationary giant. In the old myth, the stationary, quintessentially unchanging plantation was the site and the story of African-American life from the seventeenth century to the twentieth. But Lorenzo Ivy had described a world in motion. After the American Revolution—which seemed at the time to portend slavery’s imminent demise—a metastatic transformation and growth of slavery’s giant body had begun instead. From the exploitation, commodification, and torture of enslaved people’s bodies, enslavers and other free people gained new kinds of modern power. The sweat and blood of the growing system, a network of individuals and families and labor camps that grew bigger with each passing year, fueled massive economic change. Enslaved people, meanwhile, transported and tortured, had to find ways to survive, resist, or endure. And over time the question of their freedom or bondage came to occupy the center of US politics.

Excerpted from "The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery and the Making of American Capitalism" by Edward E. Baptist. Published by Basic Books, a member of the Perseus Books Group. Copyright 2014 by Edward E. Baptist. Reprinted with permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.


The Georgia Legislature united all state institutions into the University System of Georgia in 1931 and established the Board of Regents. Within two years, the board assumed complete control of the universities, and in one of its first meetings, it closed eight schools including the Medical Department. The regent's listed several reasons for closing the school: lack of funds, inadequate equipment, not enough classrooms or clinical areas and insufficient number of full-time teachers. The students, faculty, alumni and Augustans rallied to reopen the school. People sent letters, petitions and telegrams to regent's. Gov. Eugene Talmadge, a board member, visited Augusta shortly before the hearing on the fate of the Medical Department, and the public support for the school overwhelmed him. He promised Augustans that he would vote to overturn the decision. He kept his word and deserves credit for saving the medical school. After the Regent's reinstated the Department, they changed the name of the institution to the University of Georgia School of Medicine.

Problems for the institution continued after the reunification with the University System in 1933. The Depression and lack of finances kept Dean William Lorenzo Moss from making the regent's recommended improvements. In addition, Drs. William Cutter and M. Ireland, members of the Council of Medical Education and Hospitals (MEH), inspected the school. Several months later, Drs. Ross Patterson and Fred Zapffe, members of the Executive Council of the Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC), examined the facilities. In February 1934, both councils released their reports: The MEH removed the school from the Class A listing, and the AAMC recommended revoking the schools membership. Both of the reports were similar to the regent's comments: lack of funds, faculty and appropriate clinical teaching space. The regent's decided a change of deans would improve the situation, and they asked Dean Moss to resign.

The University of Georgia School of Medicine School Bulletin for 1933-1934 is similar to many of today's college catalogs. It announced the one hundred and third session of the Georgia School of Medicine, which started on September 25, 1933 and finished on June 4, 1934. It listed requirements for admission, clinical opportunities, requirements for graduations, and postgraduate work. At this time, the School of Medicine did not require tuition fees from residents of the state of Georgia, which conformed to the regulations governing other branches of the University System of Georgia. However, Georgia residents paid $185.00 each year for laboratory fees. Non-residents' paid $365.00 each year, which included their tuition and laboratory fees.

Dr. William Lorenzo Moss (1876-1957) - Dean, 1931-1934

Dr. William Moss, a native of Athens, Ga., received a BS degree from the University of Georgia in 1897 and earned his medical degree at Johns Hopkins Medical School in 1905. Moss spent many years as a teacher and researcher at Johns Hopkins, Yale and Harvard universities, and in 1926 he was acting dean at Harvard's School of Public Health Medicine. After serving as dean, he returned to his research activities. He is best known for his outstanding contributions in the fields of blood classification, tropical medicine and hemorrhagic diseases. His most noted contribution was the Moss System, a classification of blood groups, which he labeled I through IV. The Moss System was widely used throughout the world until modified during World War II. Dr. Moss headed numerous international medical research expeditions in the Caribbean, South America and the South Pacific. He was most interested in expeditions that advanced medical knowledge.

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