Week something....

When I first moved to Cape Girardeau, my Grandma Medlock (the sane grandma) would take me with her to visit our Aunt Laura Lee Eaker, a vivacious ninety five year old woman who, despite being partially blind, deaf and physically handicapped, still loves to socialize. During one of our visits, Laura Lee, knowing my intense interest in family history, decided to divulge everything she knew about the Eaker clan. After nearly three hours of intense discussion, I thought Laura Lee had told me everything I needed to know about my distant relatives. As I began to leave, my aunt blurted out: “And then there was that time your Grandpa Eaker took his Grandpa Shelton to a whore house.” Despite the fact that I could sense my Grandma Medlock’s Lutheran butt cheeks puckering, I had to hear this one last story.

 

According to my aunt, Grandpa Shelton was Grandpa Eaker’s favorite Grandpa. Unfortunately, Grandpa Shelton was getting old and did not have much longer to live. So Grandpa Eaker, being the kind soul that he was, decided to take Grandpa Shelton on a road trip to East St. Louis to purchase the services of a friendly prostitute. After what was probably the best ten minutes of his life, Grandpa Shelton shuffled out of the brothel with a smile on his face. However, my Grandpa Eaker had to be sure that his favorite Grandpa got his money’s worth. When Grandpa Eaker asked the prostitute if she had earned her money, she sighed and replied, “Every last penny.”

 

Although I find this story to be entertaining, I am sure the majority of my family, including Grandma Medlock and her Lutheran cheeks, would not be so amused. Most Americans react the same way as Grandma Medlock and ignore the uncomfortable aspects of their personal and collective past. As Hurley notes, the Scott Joplin house in St. Louis, Missouri has experienced that same issues. For instance, the available evidence suggests that Joplin not only lived near prostitutes, but made his living playing ragtime music in brothels; some historians speculate that Joplin most likely contracted syphilis from a prostitute. Instead of ignoring this painful aspect of Scott Joplin’s life (many African Americans did not want visitors to associate black neighborhoods with prostitution), the staff at the Scott Joplin house decided to transform prostitution and ragtime music into a teachable moment with input from the  local community. Staff members contextualized the events surrounding Joplin’s interactions with prostitutes and brothels, noting that women did not possess the same rights as men in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In many cases, prostitution was one of the few professions in the United States during this period that provided working-class women with decent wages.

 

Of course, not every museum has patrons that are open to discussing such troubling aspects of American society. However, the staff at the Scott Joplin house took the best approach by consulting the surrounding community in order to reach a consensus over which topics would benefit an honest and open discussion. In some cases, these topics brought to light issues currently plaguing the community, including prostitution and sex crimes. Hopefully, the nation’s collective butt cheeks will un-pucker and small museums throughout the nation will be able to adopt the Scott Joplin House’s methods.