Framing Founding Funders

Reflection by Dr. Andrew Maginn, Senior Research Associate and Program Coordinator, Roberson Project.

When the Roberson Project hired me in July 2021, I was a newly minted PhD from Howard University. Coming from a program that trained activist scholars,  I was excited to work for an organization that consciously endeavored to scrutinize its institution’s past. My first assignment was to help research the history of the University’s founding. Eager to prove myself and before I made the move to Sewanee, I ordered two books to be sent to my home in Washington, D.C.: Sewanee Perspectives: On the History of the University of the South (2008) and Sewanee Sesquicentennial History: The Making of the University of the South (2008).  I immediately devoured these books, soaking in as much knowledge about the University’s history as I could prior to my first in-person meeting with the Project’s director, Dr. Woody Register. Impressed by this newfound knowledge, Dr. Register shared with me the Fairbanks List.” Little did I anticipate how much working with this document would influence my development as a historian and scholar in the digital humanities. 

George Rainsford Fairbanks, an original trustee and, after the Civil War, a longtime administrator of the University, compiled his “list” in the 1870s. Tanner Potts C’15, the Roberson Project’s first full-time researcher, uncovered the document in the Sewanee Archives in 2017. It consists of an itemized list, detailing the names of 294 people who, prior to the war, pledged funds to the creation of the University of the South. Despite Fairbanks’ effort to document these pre-war promises, most subscribers did not make good on their pledges.

Unfortunately, the list is not as straightforward as a researcher would like: most of the “founding funders” are listed by surname and donation amount with a spare notation to help identify an individual funder: first name, an initial, a title, or a place of residence. Due to these limited hints, efforts to identify these funders have taken significant time. When I joined the Roberson Project, about half of the funders had been identified. My assignment was the same as many of the tasks undertaken by the Roberson Project: to fill in the gaps in the record of Sewanee’s past that earlier researchers missed, neglected, or chose not to address. 

I began working on the “Fairbanks List”in August 2021 alongside my other tasks for the Roberson Project. Juggling events, last-minute research requests, archival visits, and leading a seminar on arguments regarding reparations for slavery, I made some progress identifying funders in late 2021.  As more biographical and background data was gathered and gaps in previous research were addressed, Dr. Register and I discussed how to make the information public facing.  ArcGIS, a geographic information software that is used to create digital maps, was already a proven tool that Dr. Register and Mr. Potts used to create a map to show information on the 37 original Board of Trustees of the University of the South (Within the Pale of the Plantation States: Slavery and the Governance of the University of the South in 1860). The digital map provides a biography of each trustee, their census information, the value of their property, and the number of people they enslaved. This would serve as a template for what became the Founding Funders Map Project. 

With ArcGIS as the chosen tool, I sought the expertise of Dr. Christopher Van de Ven, director of Sewanee’s Landscape Analysis Lab, and his assistant, Joshua Alvarez. We met often during that fall and early spring. Mr. Alvarez created the first iteration of the Founding Funders Map. By extracting data from a spreadsheet, he created multiple maps layered over the same region. Each map layer reveals a specific data category, such as the number of enslaved owned or funders’ property values. As I identified more names on the list and the map continue to expand, I began to see how these funders represented the multiple walks of life within the late antebellum period’s leadership class. These men and women  included plantation owners, politicians, ministers, newspaper editors, lawyers, doctors, railroad barons, and cotton brokers, with donations ranging from $500 to $25,000. Many owned multiple properties in the South, or homes in the North. Even a Louisiana native studying in a Paris medical school, James Dick Hill, pledged a donation. This was truly a complex network of people. Many later served as civilian or military leaders of the Confederacy during the eras of the American Civil War (1860-1865) and Radical Reconstruction (1865-1877). 

As more and more funders were added to the spreadsheet, we had to decide how to display this information. We didn’t want the map to be “academic,” something that would make sense mostly to college faculty-types. We wanted it to be broadly accessible and meaningful to any potential user. We brainstormed innovative ways to use ArcGIS and determined the following: 

  1. To have three “layers” (enslaved, pledged amount, and personal property) to highlight the demographic profiles of the funders;
  2. To have a pop-up biography (like the back of a baseball card) displaying personal and other information about each funder; 
  3. To include information about primary and secondary professions, because many were plantation owners with an additional occupation; 
  4. To limit each funder, no matter how many properties they owned, to a single pop-up biography linked to location they called home in the 1860 census, which we call their “home” property;
  5. To provide links to census documents to show where we found much of our information about wealth and slave-holdings and to make that information accessible to all users.

Roberson Project 2021-2022 Work Study Students-Klarke Stricklen and Silas McClung.

In Spring 2022, we added two undergraduate students to the team: Silas McClung C’24 and Klarke Stricklen C’22. Mr. McClung worked with me to identify several names and track their census information. As spring turned to summer, we drew closer to the project’s launch. The Roberson Project 2022 undergraduate research interns – Plum Champlin, Sofina Behr, Lillian Holloway, Callista Abner, and Carrie Schupack – worked with me for a few weeks to collect and digitize census records. Ms. Schupack and I uploaded these virtual documents to the database. During the summer, there were many nights that I didn’t leave the office until 10 or 11 after long days of working with the interns on their other work for the Roberson Project. The excitement to complete this project was all the fuel I needed. 

The 2022 Roberson Project Summer Interns: Callista Abner, Lillian Holloway, Sofina Behr, Carrie Schupack, and Plum Champlin.

As the summer continued, Dr. Register and I discussed how to present this information to users beyond the interactive map. We decided to accompany the ArcGIS map with an informative website. Mx. Champlin and I created the first version of this, and then we brought on Dr. Hannah Huber, the Digital Technology Leader and Project Administrator for the Center for Southern Studies, and the website continued to evolve. This experience was enlightening, as I was introduced to the basics of web page creation and digital publishing. In its current state, the website allows users to learn more about the Founding Funders, as each page provides context for the interactive map. The Roberson Project hopes this site helps Sewanee students, staff, faculty, and alumni, as well as the general public, gain greater insight into how and why this institution was created in the context of U.S. slavery.

As with the creation of our nation, the foundation of the University of the South is complicated. The evidence provided by the Founding Funders virtual map illustrates that the University of the South was created by men and women who benefitted from the institution of slavery. Their goal was to raise an endowment to sustain a “Southern institution” that would further southern ideas and industries, primarily agricultural production using enslaved labor. In this way, the history of the University is a microcosm of the history of the United States and its trading partners on both sides of the Atlantic. All were built and prospered on a foundation of enslaved people. Sewanee, like so many ancient universities in the Americas and Europe, was a contributing part of this historical development. While there is much to celebrate about what these institutions have contributed over the generations, that estimation has to acknowledge and reckon with slavery’s role in their evolution. 

Dr. Maginn presenting Founding Funders Map Project on November 1, 2022 for faculty, staff, and students at Sewanee.

Editor’s note: Dr. Maginn will be presenting on the Founding Funders Map Project on March 17, 2023 at the University Studying Slavery Conference in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. In addition, Dr. Maginn is using Founding Funders Map Project within the classroom. His Spring 2023 course, entitled Slavery, Race and the University, encompasses a comparative exploration of Atlantic World institutions of higher education and their foundational ties to the global slave trade.

2022 Summer Intern Reflections-Sofina Behr

Editor’s note: This past summer, the Roberson Project on Slavery, Race, and Reconciliation was fortunate to have five talented and hardworking undergraduate research assistants working with us: Callista Abner, Sofina Behr, Plum Champlin, Lillian Holloway, and Carrie Schupack. We asked each of them to contribute to the Project blog some reflections on their work and experiences from the summer. The opinions expressed in the blogs are solely theirs and not necessarily those of the Roberson Projects. Our third post is by Sofina (Sofie) Behr, a junior Philosophy and Psychology major at Sewanee from Montgomery, Alabama.  

The Legacies of Slavery: Acklen and Reparative Work

When I was interviewing for the Summer 2022 research assistantship with the Roberson Project, its director, Dr. Woody Register, looked at me through our Zoom screen and asked, “so, what are your thoughts on reparations?” This question was meant to see what I had thought about the complicated issue, but it made me realize how little thought I had previously given the topic. At that time, I wasn’t sure what my thoughts were on reparations. To this day, I’m still not fully satisfied with my ability to answer that question.

Reparations generally refer to compensation given to those who have experienced abuse or injury.i  In the context of the University of the South’s indebtedness to slavery, reparations would refer to damages experienced by victims of slavery and/or their descendants. In the national context, supporters of reparations have proposed a variety of actions, including but not limited to affirmative action, scholarships, individual monetary payments, and systematic initiatives.ii For victims of slavery and/or descendants of enslaved people, evidence of this disadvantage is indicated in the wealth disparities between Black and white Americans. For example, in 2016, researchers found that the “median black household net worth ($17,600) is only one-tenth of the white net worth ($171,000).” .iii While I was aware of these arguments before starting my internship, I hadn’t been directly exposed to a specific example of reparations for this disparity in action. Over the course of the summer with the Roberson Project, I was introduced to the story of the Acklen family and their descendants, and it has stuck with me because of its relevance to the discussion of reparations and generational wealth.

I encountered the Acklens’ story while working on a project with Dr. Andrew Maginn, the Roberson Project’s Senior Research Associate and Program Coordinator. We were trying to compose biographies of the original supporters of the University of the South. We are calling them the “Founding Funders.”  Joseph Alexander Smith Acklen (1816-1863) was a Mexican War hero and lawyer from Huntsville, Alabama. He and his wife, Adelicia Acklen, frequently surfaced in our research, and we quickly found that their family was connected to other “Founding Funders” with deep and troubling ties to slavery, such as Isaac Franklin and John Armfield. Isaac Franklin was Adelicia’s first husband, and his death in 1846 made her the wealthiest woman in the South.iv Adelicia was left with a fortune of almost $1 million, which included seven cotton plantations in Louisiana, a farm in Tennessee, and hundreds of enslaved people.v The one property that stood out to me was the Acklens’ West Feliciana property in Louisiana. The 1860 Slave Schedule of the U.S. Census reported that 659 enslaved people toiled on this property. This was a clarifying moment for me. I realized a reality about the university’s “Funders” and the Acklens specifically. They were not just representative of the institution of slavery. They were the institution of slavery. 

Acklen Family 1860 Slave Schedules

Inside the Belmont Mansion

 In late June, the Roberson Project Summer researchers visited the Belmont Mansion in Nashville, the home of Joseph and Adelicia Acklen. We were fortunate to sit down with a guide who provided some important insight into the legacy of the Acklen family and their wealth. He explained that Joseph Acklen’s knowledge and experience in planting assisted in the growth of Adelicia’s wealth, all through the enslaved labor at their West Feliciana plantation. Adelicia capitalized on this economic and social status by networking and connecting with other members of the southern aristocracy through lavish dinner parties and events at the mansion. Throughout the Civil War, Adelicia relied on her social status and connections to other wealthy planters to protect her fortune. As Union troops drew near Nashville in 1862, Adelicia traveled to New Orleans, where she negotiated the sale of her plantations’ remaining cotton for $960,000 in gold, equivalent to more than $16 million today.vi

According to records and information from our guide, the descendants today of the Acklens are the Kaiser family, who remain quite prominent and wealthy .vii The story of the Acklens and their Kaiser descendants is by no means unusual. While I knew that many slave-owning families had living descendants who benefitted from the generational wealth their ancestors created, I had never been exposed to a specific example. When we talk about reparations and the need for reparative work, it is often easy to remain comfortable engaging in abstract or theoretical discussions. In contrast, the legacy of the Acklen family, and the knowledge of the Kaisers as the descendants of the Acklens, made the discussion of reparative work strikingly concrete. The conversation no longer centered around the general talk of “descendants” or a family of forgotten or faceless names. Here was a family whose vast wealth has roots in the institution of slavery. 

The Acklens’ story is one of the many stories exploring the legacy of slavery, and more specifically, the legacies of slavery in connection to Sewanee. Families like the Acklens built their fortunes with enslaved labor. However, they were able to maintain generational wealth due to a number of factors, not least of which was the socioeconomic status granted to them as members of the southern upper class. This wealth was not at all accessible to enslaved people and their descendants, and this lack of access to wealth creation is why the conversation about reparative work needs to be encouraged. After emancipation, former slave owners like the Acklens and their descendants were able to remain afloat, as their status and prestige remained and provided opportunities for financial gain. In contrast, freed people and their descendants had to build wealth, quite literally, from scratch. Here, it is clear to see the shortcomings of Reconstruction era policy and a disregard for this inequity in the last half century.viii While enslaved people did become “free,” they lacked the resources and the wealth many white families had used their labor and property value to accumulate over decades and across generations.  

So what can be done to remedy the economic inequity faced by descendants of enslaved people? One answer to this question is located about five minutes away from Belmont Mansion. Down the hill from the Acklens’ estate is Freedom Plaza, which Belmont University dedicated in 2021. 

Plaque for Freedom Plaza at Belmont University

Freedom Plaza, according to the University, serves to “celebrate and memorialize the lives of the enslaved individuals who are known to have labored on the estate owned by Joseph and Adelicia Acklen more than 170 years ago, prior to the establishment of Belmont College.”ix This sort of reparative work, sometimes called “symbolic reparations,” is important, but is not by any means sufficient in remediating the effects of slavery. In a report written by the United Nations Working Group of Experts of People of African Descent, the erection of “monuments, memorials, and markers” is recommended as a means to “facilitate the public dialogue.”x At first glance, I felt the Freedom Plaza achieved this goal. Upon further thought, however, I became less convinced that the dedication of the Freedom Plaza was anything more than a performative gesture. Freedom Plaza lists the names of six known individuals enslaved at Belmont Mansion. But in my view, that is precisely the issue with this example of reparative work: there are only six names. 

Given what we know about the extent of the Acklens’ slave ownership, it is unlikely that only six individuals were enslaved there. Even more questionable is the fact that researchers working for the mansion could find the names of only six enslaved laborers and, it seems, were satisfied enough to place those names on the monument. While symbolic reparations like Freedom Plaza may “facilitate dialogue” among visitors to the mansion, there is something to be said about the effort and attention given to discovering and naming the enslaved. When I examined Freedom Plaza through this lens, it seemed limited in its impact. In the words of William A. Darity and A. Kirsten Mullen, authors of [insert title], memorials and plaques are useful in commemorating the enslaved and those who have fought for justice, but these acts on their own are mere “piecemeal reparations.” They do little to change the actual material conditions of slavery’s descendants.xi Darity and Mullen assert that the federal government enforced the institution of slavery until 1865, and thus the payment of reparations for the harm the national government caused is an American obligation.xii

Colleges and universities bear responsibility, too. Like Belmont University, the University of the South has deeply rooted ties to the Acklen family and the institution of slavery. (The Acklens pledged the enormous sum of $10,000 to the founding of the university.) In order not only to reckon with this reality but also to partake in actual reparative work, students like me as well as academic institutions as a whole must give greater thought to Darity and Mullen’s call to action: “Instead of seeking piecemeal reparations from their institutions on a one-by-one basis, activists should push these institutions to join the lobbying effort for congressional approval of black reparations.”xiii Honoring and recognizing the enslaved people whose property value bankrolled the founding of my university is important for us to do. We need to know that historical truth. But if we want to promote real reparations for the slavery that made our university possible, we have to go beyond these piecemeal steps. That, to answer Dr. Register’s original question, is what I am thinking about reparations.

Notes to the text: 

i  “Reparation Definition & Meaning – Merriam-Webster.” Dictionary by Merriam-Webster: America’s Most-Trusted Online Dictionary, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/reparation

ii  Araujo, Ana Lucia. Reparations for Slavery and the Slave Trade. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2017, p. 2. 

iii  Darity, William A., and A. Kirsten Mullen. From Here to Equality. UNC Press Book, 2020, p. 31.

iv  Brown, Mark. “Acklen, Adelicia | Tennessee Encyclopedia.” Tennessee Encyclopedia, Tennessee Historical Society, 11 Feb. 2018, https://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/adelicia-acklen/

v 1860 United States Census and Slave Schedules for Joseph Acklen

vi  Watts, Jennifer. “Adelicia Acklen: The Lady of Belmont.” Tennessee State Museum –  Nashville Attractions, https://tnmuseum.org/junior-curators/posts/adelicia-acklen-the-lady-of-belmont?locale=en_us

vii  Bliss, Jessica. “Adelicia Acklen’s Treasures Return to Belmont after 126 Years.” Tennessean, 16 Aug. 2014, https://www.tennessean.com/story/life/2014/08/16/adelicia-acklens-treasures-return-belmont-years/14085917/

viii  Araujo, Ana Lucia. Reparations for Slavery and the Slave Trade. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2017, p. 2. 

ix Hefner, April. “Belmont Dedicates Freedom Plaza Memorial | Belmont University News and Media.” Belmont University News & Media | Official News from the Office of Communications, Belmont University News & Media, 18 Jan. 2021, https://news.belmont.edu/belmont-dedicates-freedom-plaza-memorial/

x  Araujo, Ana Lucia. Reparations for Slavery and the Slave Trade. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2017, p. 182.

xi  Darity, William A., and A. Kirsten Mullen. From Here to Equality. UNC Press Book, 2020, p. 257.

xii  Darity, William A., and A. Kirsten Mullen. From Here to Equality. UNC Press Book, 2020, p. 269.

xiii Darity, William A., and A. Kirsten Mullen. From Here to Equality. UNC Press Book, 2020, p. 269.

2022 Summer Intern Reflections-Callista Abner

Editor’s note: This past summer, the Roberson Project on Slavery, Race, and Reconciliation is fortunate to have five talented and hardworking undergraduate research assistants working with us: Callista Abner, Sofina Behr, Plum Champlin, Lillian Holloway, and Carrie Schupack. We asked each of them to contribute to the project blog some reflections on their work and experiences from the summer. Our second post is by Callista Abner, a rising senior history major at Sewanee from Pleasant View, Tennessee.  

Fairbanks Donor List located at the University of the South Archives [i]

Identifying a Founding Funder: Maunsel White

In the early days of my summer research assistantship with the Roberson Project, my colleagues and I were locked in on identifying “White,” one of the major pre-Civil War contributors to the founding of the University of the South. This “Founding Funder,” as we are calling them, pledged the impressive sum of $5,000 (equivalent today to $176,000 and probably more) [Figure 1]. He, like most donors, were white, wealthy, Episcopalian men of the South who enslaved masses of human beings. Initially, we thought we had a match in John White, one of the founding members of Emmanuel Episcopal Church in Plaquemines Parish, Louisiana. He was geographically favorable since we knew that donors to the University of the South were concentrated in the cotton and sugar plantation regions of Louisiana. This, along with John White’s service as a lay delegate to the Twenty-First Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the Diocese of Louisiana in 1859, made a connection to the University of the South very feasible. [ii] However, we couldn’t find census records or other documentation that would improve the odds that John White was wealthy enough to donate $5,000. But, after scouring records of the Episcopal Church, Louisiana history, and Southern education resources, I realized that another of John White’s contemporaries, Maunsel White [Figure 2], was a more likely benefactor. Maunsel White’s opulent wealth via enslaved laborexhibited support of the cause to preserve “Southern values,” and connections to many powerful individuals made him the more likely “White” of the University donor list. The more research I did into Maunsel White, the more persuaded — and excited — I became that I had found a likely connection between the founding of the University of the South and an unusually influential and recognizable Southern character.

Portrait of Maunsel White [ii]

Maunsel White was not born into wealth. He was an Irish immigrant who arrived in the U.S. at a young age. [iv] Like many immigrants, he moved around.  White first lived in Louisville, Kentucky, where he was a childhood friend of future president Zachary Taylor. In 1800 and at the age of thirteen, he was living in New Orleans, where he had likely moved with his family.[iv]   There, he gained prominence from his service in the Battle of New Orleans in the War of 1812, most notably as a member of the envoy that negotiated peace with the British commander at the behest of General Andrew Jackson. His skill in brokering peace solidified his friendship with many prominent figures.[v] One of these connections is to Andrew Jackson, which serves as yet another example of a relationship with a presidential and influential figure that Maunsel continuously cultivated. Maunsel also gained the trust of a prominent Louisianan,  Pierre Denis de la Ronde. The head of a wealthy, well-connected, politically active, and very French New Orleans family, de la Ronde resided in what is known as the “Versailles Plantation,” considered “the most beautiful sugar plantation home in Louisiana of the day.”[vi]

Historical Marker for the “Versailles Plantation” [vi]

Following the war, White became a wealthy merchant, civic leader, and planter.[vii] His relationship with Andrew Jackson grew as both a friend and business partner. [v] His connection to Pierre Denis de la Ronde brought him the notoriety and wealth associated with the de la Ronde family. He married his daughter, Ysavel (Elizabeth) Celeste de la Ronde, and after her death, her sister, Heloise de la Ronde.[viii & ix] 

Maunsel White’s primary plantation, Deer Range, in Plaquemines Parish, grew sugar cane, corn, and other crops with the labor of approximately 200 enslaved people.[vi] His residence was described in the southern journal, De Bow’s Review: “no home was wider known through the valley of the Mississippi; and in no period of its history was its credit or character tarnished by a breath.”[v] Even when White was in dire financial straits and being hounded for repayment of loans, public opinion still held him in esteem. The Daily Nashville Union described how “no one doubts the ability of Maunsel White, individually, to meet every outstanding claim,” and reported that his New Orleans real estate was worth $500,000 [Figure 3].[x] The newspaper, in highlighting the value of his property (including his human property), attested to his character: a reliable, wealthy, and industrious man. 

Maunsel White’s leadership extended across many aspects of Louisianan life and included strong ties to the Episcopal Church. Like John White, he was one of the incorporators of Emmanuel Parish in Plaquemines.[xi] Like many other parishes in the nineteenth century, its rector ministered to the people enslaved at local plantations. Maunsel White donated $100 for this purpose, and it is likely that his Deer Range was one of the plantations where the enslaved were evangelized by missionaries of the Episcopal Church.[xi] His generosity and concern for the southern education of planters’ sons led him to contribute to fledgling educational institutions, including Sewanee. White was one of the first board members for the University of Louisiana in New Orleans, which is now Tulane University, on which he served with other Sewanee contributors. In his fundraising efforts for that university, he said, “no one ought to refuse, who is desirous of Education of his children at home.” [xii] His sentiments mirrored those of the University of the South’s earliest supporters. They all were reluctant to send Southern youth to northern colleges, where they were sure to be exposed to anti-slavery doctrine.

White’s sentiments about the institution of slavery are evident in the harsh methods he used to maintain order among those he enslaved. He “put Negroes who feigned sickness in the stocks” and gave those who did not work hard enough dry bread instead of meat. [xii] In his own records, White noted his use of forms of violence, such as whipping, on his enslaved, including a woman named Caty, and condoned such actions done by his overseers, as well.[xiv] To his contemporaries, White’s was a model plantation, where, according to De Bow’s Review, “order and system, health and contentment reign through its limits.”[v] 

This was the type of man whose wealth enabled the founding of the University of the South. They were devoted to the institution of slavery; they belonged to the Episcopal Church; and they were connected to powerful political and business interests in the American South. White’s success and renown were impressive for his time, and in the league of many who pledged their wealth to the southern university. Regardless, he was one of the “founding funders” whose contributions and legacy we are working to investigate and illuminate. Uncovering this connection made me feel that my work was contributing important information to the research of the Roberson Project. Each source I found in this process further filled out our network of connected individuals. Hopefully, this will allow the Roberson Project and other Sewanee constituents to form a more comprehensive understanding of the circumstances of our founding and development. This discovery was a wonderful start to my internship, and I’m grateful to be able to contribute to the annals of Sewanee and American history in such a way. 

Notes to the text: 

[i] 1859 list of University of the South donors, from the University of the South Archives. 

[ii] Journal of the Proceedings of the  21st  Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the Diocese of Louisiana, 1859, https://books.google.com/books?id=_3jkAAAAMAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false. p. 15.

[iii] Colonel Maunsell White Sr., March 21,  2016, https://www.geni.com/photo/view/6000000026681114003?album_type=photos_of_me&photo_id=6000000041093069251

[iv] Memorial Page for Col Maunsel White (1783-17 Dec 1863), Find a Grave Memorial ID 7567088. https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/75687088/maunsel-white

[v] De Bow, J. D. B., 1858. The Pioneer’s of the South, No. 1. De Bow’s Review: Agricultural, Commercial, Industrial Progress and Resources, XXV, https://play.google.com/books/reader?id=siQKAAAAIAAJ&pg=GBS.PA480&hl=en pp.480-482. 

[vi] Meredith, M., 2021. Pierre Denys de LaRonde (1726-1772) – HouseHistree. [online] Househistree.com. Available at: https://househistree.com/people/pierre-denys-de-laronde

[vii] Evans, C., 2022. The Real History of Tabasco® – Chuck Evans’ MONTEZUMA Brand Sauces & Salsas. [online] Chuck Evans’ MONTEZUMA Brand Sauces & Salsas. http://montezumabrand.com/articles/the-real-history-of-tabasco/

[viii] Ancestry.com. n.d. Ysavel Celeste Laronde in the Louisiana, U.S., Compiled Marriages, 1728-1850. [online] Available at: https://www.ancestry.com/discoveryui-content/view/5670:2090.

[ix] Familysearch.org. n.d. Colonel Maunsell White Sr.. [online] Available at: https://www.familysearch.org/tree/person/timeline/K2TZ-BWW.

[x] “Communication,” Daily Nashville Union (Nashville, Tennessee), February 5, 1852. https://www.newspapers.com/image/?clipping_id=103936118&fcfToken=eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJmcmVlLXZpZXctaWQiOjYwMzkzNDEzNywiaWF0IjoxNjU2NjIwODE3LCJleHAiOjE2NTY3MDcyMTd9.UI2snk8RkLfcVAmQ2CdE9TKeUx_mwbbNV18qJfjpLFE, p. 2. 

[xi] Duncan, H., 1888. Diocese of Louisiana: Some of Its History, 1838-1888. New Orleans: A. W. Hyatt, Printer, pp.138-141.

[xii] Eaton, Clement. The Mind of the Old South, (Louisiana State University Press, 1967), p. 80. 

[xiii] Eaton, Clement. The Growth of Southern Civilization, (Harper and Row, 1961), p. 61.

[xiv] Regan, J., 2021. “Irish Overseers in the Antebellum South.” Irish Historical Studies, [online] 45(168), pp.203-222. Available at: https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/irish-historical-studies/article/irish-overseers-in-the-antebellum-us-south/EE2DBBA131BB8F571347268888AB8D5E#fn68