Editor's Note

UNUSUALLY WARM WEATHER AND SUNNY SKIES blessed the October 11, 1998, centennial observance of the Virden Massacre, held in that Macoupin County community. But the heat afflicted a Catholic priest, recently off chemotherapy for cancer, as he rested in a shady corner of the town's square before giving the day's closing prayer.“It was Mother Jones who said, and I quote: ‘Pray for the dead but fight like hell for the living,’” Father Martin B. Mangan began. “We remember the dead, the Virden Martyrs today. But we must also remember, and I quote again, ‘to fight like hell for the living’—and for workers everywhere, and especially, the mine workers here in central Illinois. And so Dear God grant eternal rest unto the Virden Martyrs, who died for justice. And grant eternal solidarity to us who remain to fight for justice. Amen.”Mangan, beloved for his support of workers during an early 1990s series of lockouts and strikes afflicting Decatur, Illinois, gained strength that day from the example of Mary “Mother” Jones, a late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century labor activist once termed “the most dangerous woman in the United States.” He followed a tradition of inspiration extending into our own times.Rosemary Feurer examines Mother Jones's history and continuing impact in “A Spirit Thread of Labor's Public History: Memory, a Tradition of Historian Activists, and the Mother Jones Heritage Project.” As Feurer notes, “Jones's early personal story is a series of tragedies that she interpreted through a class lens, and conveys a resolute spirit. . . . From the ashes of tragedy, she constructed a life of commitment to collective action and confronting the structures of power.”And though Jones was not in Virden during the gun battle between striking miners and coal company guards, she embraced their struggle and deaths. Three decades later, her remains joined theirs in Mount Olive's Union Miners Cemetery. Following her death in 1930, Jones, as Feurer explains, entered a long afterlife, a symbolic presence reexamined by succeeding generations.To paraphrase Alfred Hayes classic song about a framed, executed Industrial Workers of the World organizer, “I Dreamed I Saw Joe Hill Last Night,” Feurer demonstrates, Hayes's verse applies equally to Mary “Mother” Jones: And standing there as big as lifeand smiling with his eyes.Says Joe “What they can never killwent on to organize,went on to organize.”Exploring the personal history of private individuals is a daunting task. If the subjects’ relationships were unsanctioned by the laws and social customs of their times, a researcher confronts a greater challenge. For much of history, same-gender love has hidden in the heart, leaving no traces in public documents. “More than Companions: Relationships Between Women Faculty at Monticello Female Seminary” by Mary Z. Rose offers a path to commitment, support, and love too dangerous for public acknowledgment.Rose, archives librarian at the Madison County (Illinois) Archival Library, earlier contributed “The Gillham Abduction Story: Constructing an Alternative Narrative” (Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society, Spring 2024). Her new article stemmed from curiosity by an alert student volunteer at the Archival Library.“Understanding same-sex relationships of the past is inherently tricky,” Rose explains. And though the times in which her subjects lived were challenging, “all four women made public gestures affirming their partner as the most important person in their life.” Her work reveals a suppressed past, offering a greater understanding of the present and future.A brainchild of Tim Draper, the Journal's Special Projects section produces fascinating interviews, essays, bibliographic studies, and other works. This issue's contribution is Draper's interview with Steven A. Riess, a pioneer in sports history as cultural history. Riess, who retired recently after thirty-five years at Northeastern Illinois University, is the author of several books. With Draper, he explores the struggles involved in gaining his field's admission to academic study and the ways in which the topic tells us more about our society.The names on articles in each Journal issue, the editorial staff, the editorial advisory board, and the staff, directors, and advisory board of the Illinois State Historical Society appear on various pages. But all these are only part of the team assembling each issue of the Journal. Considerable work comes from the University of Illinois Press, especially Jeff McArdle, journals manager, and the copy editors, designers, marketing staff, and others.McArdle oversees more than forty academic journals published by the press and, to our good fortune, keeps our Journal under his supervision. The U of I Press contribution is vital and ensures not only continued high quality for the Journal but also its regular appearance in your mailboxes.In our next issue, I will share how each Journal issue takes shape from article submission to book reviews to design and copy editing.As always, we look forward to your comments and suggestions.