Tag: Culture

Henry Doughty Tovey, a man for all seasons

Henry Tovey circa 1905, from his graduation at Knox University. The same image appears in the University of Arkansas Cardinal yearbook, 1910.

Who could have guessed, then or now, that in 1908, little old Fayetteville and the University of Arkansas would eagerly invite a gay man to their midst. Not that Henry Tovey advertised his sexual orientation or, perhaps, even acknowledged it to himself, much less others. But his role over the next 25 years as professor of piano and music as well as his larger-than-life presence in community, state, and even national arenas of music education could not help but reveal that he was not of the ‘traditional’ male ilk.

The fact is that homosexuality was widely tolerated and even admired in certain circles of American culture during that time period. As noted in a 2019 article, journalist Sarah Pruitt wrote:

  • On a Friday night in February 1926, a crowd of some 1,500 packed the Renaissance Casino in New York City’s Harlem neighborhood for the 58th masquerade and civil ball of Hamilton Lodge. Nearly half of those attending the event, reported the New York Age, appeared to be “men of the class generally known as ‘fairies,’ and many Bohemians from the Greenwich Village section who…in their gorgeous evening gowns, wigs and powdered faces were hard to distinguish from many of the women.” The tradition of masquerade and civil balls, more commonly known as drag balls, had begun back in 1869 within Hamilton Lodge, a black fraternal organization in Harlem. By the mid-1920s, at the height of the Prohibition era, they were attracting as many as 7,000 people of various races and social classes—gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and straight alike.[1]

Whether this broader scope of acceptance had managed to trickle down to Northwest Arkansas is debatable, but Tovey’s credentials fit two very important priorities for the university and community. For one, he had graduated from one of the finest music conservatories Illinois had to offer, studied abroad with acclaimed artists, and had gained acclaim in a brief tenure at Ouachita College in Arkadelphia, Arkansas, provoking critics to pronounce he held a “warm place in the hearts of our music lovers.”[2] Such expertise in the performing arts had become a priority to the university on the heels of the Gilded Age. Secondly, then as now, university professors and their families occupied an elevated position in Fayetteville, deriving mostly from far-flung origins and bringing with them not only higher education but also more sophisticated cultural characteristics than those possessed by the ‘locals.’

Tovey immediately became the darling of the town’s elite, invited to join fledgling social groups determined to open Fayetteville to the wider world. For example,

  • In November 1908, he joined Fayetteville’s Musical Coterie at its second meeting at the home of Mrs. F. O. Gully on Mont Nord, where the group declared “a most auspicious opening” for the beginning of the season. Their objective was to “arouse increased interest in the finest of all fine arts—music… We should have an annual Music Festival here every year… [which] would bring people from all parts of the state and from neighboring states to Fayetteville.”[3]
Henry Tovey 1928

Tovey was uniquely suited to the task before him, and he set about his destiny with great zeal. Not only did he help build a greater appreciation of classical music in Fayetteville and the rest of the state with his innovative teaching method utilizing the Victrola and recordings, a method soon adopted across the nation, he also promoted civic efforts to include town beautification, music education in the public schools, and the establishment of a country club and the Fayetteville Rotary Club. Perhaps most laudable was Tovey’s embrace of the rural people of Arkansas:

  • In a 1997 music journal article, Tovey is described as part of the Progressive effort to improve rural life with the use of music. “…[R]eformers focused on improving the economic and social conditions of rural people. Rural reformers expanded university offerings in music… In 1918, the Arkansas legislature voted to require music in the schools due largely to the efforts of Henry Doughty Tovey…

From his enormous musical talent to his elephant collection and regular hosting of delightful luncheons he prepared mostly for wives of prominent town and university notables and served at his home near campus, Tovey lived as a type of Renaissance Man. For example, one menu included “Bouillon * Toasted Wafers * Escalloped Oysters, Potatoes en Cream * French Peas * Chow Chow Pickle * Olives * Salt-rising Bread Sandwiches * Coffee * Tomato Aspic Moulded with Olives and Almonds * Mayonnaise Dressing * Cheese Sandwiches * Orange Parfait with Whipped Cream * Bon-Bons.”

The town and the state mourned his untimely end, but his contributions to his chosen community and state continue to resonate today. The story of this man and his amazing realm of accomplishments is part of The Music Men of Turn-of-the Century Fayetteville, available at the Washington County Historical Society, or from Amazon.com

Tovey with his bulldog Stubby
MC 779 Lighton Family Papers, Box 28, Folder 7,
Photograph 888, Digital Collections,
Univ. of AR, Fayetteville

[1] Sarah Pruitt, “How Gay Culture Blossomed in the Roaring Twenties.” Accessed June 27, 2023 @ https://www.history.com/news/gay-culture-roaring-twenties-prohibition

[2] “Miss Croom’s Recital,” The Southern Standard, Nov 1, 1906, p. 3.

[3] FD, Nov 7, 1908, p. 3.

A Moveable Feast

dickson copyDickson Street, 1970. Old rock buildings with narrow profiles and high pressed-tin ceilings. An abandoned railroad depot that trembled when freight trains thundered past. A declining backwash between campus and the downtown square of a town still embracing its provincialism.

The university drew them, intense intellectuals seeking knowledge, misfits seeking community, young men determined not to die in Asian jungles. In between time in class and demonstrating against war, they settled into the street’s cheap real estate to paint murals and make free love. Abandoned warehouses and decrepit brick structures a hundred years old became head shops, bars, and art galleries. Downscale restaurants heaped alfalfa sprouts on whole wheat bread sandwiches—radical. Cooperatives sold tobacco and honey in bulk, locally made tofu—far out.

Sweet smoke hung in the air. Street festivals celebrated music of hope and rebellion. People wore crazy hats and stood on the corners laughing and hugging. Dickson Street crackled with excitement.

All this made it a place people wanted to be. Straight people, women wearing hosiery and high heels, men in suits—they loved the experience of freedom, even if they themselves couldn’t be free. They dared to step out of their establishment lives and feel the beat, smell the smoke they didn’t inhale. Well, maybe they inhaled—who would know? On the street, they became part of a separate world, joined a conspiracy in which all participants shared the secrets.

Not everyone loved the street where long-hairs had carved out a world of their own. What on earth went on down there, they lamented—police, city fathers, wives of husbands who slipped out for a drink at one of the dive bars and ogled the braless young women. Owners of real estate along the street stopped repairing the roof and the plumbing, inflated the prices so that the restaurants couldn’t own it for themselves, so the art galleries couldn’t afford the rent. The hippies needed to go.

By 1990, value created by the alternative culture gave the establishment reason to retake the street. There was money to be made. People wanted to eat there, shop there. The street was cool. Never mind that the coolness had been bestowed by starving artists, by inventive bohemians, by fledgling entrepreneurs selling worn-out blue jeans for respectable profits.

The rich bought the street. They demolished landmark gathering places to put in shops selling diamonds and art from back east. They came dressed in their finery to eat at chain restaurants and watch traveling Broadway shows.

The street is now a shell of its former raunchy self, an extravagant display of fakery in expensive plastic packaging—a back to the land scene where the joyful family piles out of their brand new SUV to view nature, a credit card ad with Beatles music playing in the background. There’s no getting it back. They don’t even understand what’s been lost.