Legacy and memory with people on display

The 1904 Louisiana Purchase Exhibition in St. Louis was not meant to last physically. As was the case with the 1893 World Columbian Exhibition in Chicago, many of the buildings were made of wood and staff. There are similarities in design between the two fairs, too, as photos from St. Louis are reminiscent of the White City. But while the temporary buildings of the fair may not have

influenced (for better or worse) architects the way those of its midwestern predecessor did, the fair did leave a legacy, and it is difficult to deal with at times.


Architecture

The lasting structure from the St. Louis World's Fair is the Cass Gilbert-designed building that now houses the city's art museum. Gilbert's Beaux Arts-influenced building is one of many buildings that first-time visitors may find out of place in a city with a skyline dominated by the Gateway Arch, a
modernist science center, and Minoru Yamasaki's airport terminal.


But before the modern buildings, the 1904 fair brought classically-inspired buildings to the city. City Hall was moved that year to a newly-built Renaissance Revival building. (Tangentially, Louis Sullivan already had a structure in St. Louis prior to the fair, a tomb he had designed in the 1890s.) The fair's profits were used to build the classically-styled
Missouri History Museum (now renovated).


But the architectural legacy of the St. Louis World's Fair is not what dominates most tributes now. The 1904 exhibition was held at a time when America was expanding its foreign power, and a significant amount of space at the fair was dedicated to the country's latest acquisition.

The Philippines

The Louisiana Purchase Exhibition celebrated the centennial of the time when a young nation doubled in size. And it was held at a time when a maturing nation was again growing outside of its borders.

The U.S. had taken sovereignty of the Phillipines as a condition ending the Spanish American War less than a decade before the fair. The fair devoted nearly 50 acres to the newly-controlled lands, and organizers filled the space with thousands of natives from the islands, who lived at the fairgrounds.

The previous post addresses the difficulties in coping with an unpleasant history, and the treatment of Filipinos in the St. Louis World's Fair is a demonstration of the effects of such a difficulty.


Some memories of the fair are pleasant, and ignore the Phillippine Exhibit. Others deal with it lightly.

The St. Louis Public Library presents various aspects of the display matter-of-factly, but with a casual tone that doesn't hint at the morbidity of displaying people whose land was ceded as a war prize. Events such as a mock election for president and the consumption of dog meat are presented as perks given to the displaced Filipinos.


In a paper published in the Journal of Filipino American National History Society, Virgilio R. Pilapil writes that dog eating among the Igorot people was such a spectacle that "the city of St. Louis provided [the Igorot] a supply of dogs at the agreed amount of 20 dogs a week, but this did not appear to be sufficient, as they had also encouraged local people to bring them dogs which they bought to supplement their daily needs."


While cultural differences in diet are of importance to a better understanding of the world—and ideally what a World's Fair would promote—the demand for dog meat is questionable. In a look back at the display, NPR's Greg Allen writes "Mia Abeya, a Maryland resident whose Igorot grandfather was among those on display, says Igorots ate dog only occasionally, for ceremonial purposes. During the fair, they were fed the animals on a daily basis. 'They made them butcher dogs, which is really abusing the culture of the Igorots,'"


Elevating a dietary difference to this level has lasting cultural consequences. And it has also influenced the city of St. Louis. Pilapil concludes that it's no coincidence the neighborhood where the Phillippine Exhibit once stood is now called Dogtown.

The NPR piece goes on to note that the Phillippine Exhibit wasn't all bad. It gave some natives the chance to attend school, and undoubtedly, some Filipinos were interested in moving to America, and they settled after the fair ended.

This again hints at the difficulty of addressing the most unpleasant parts of history. Rarely is an issue so black and white that no good can be found in it. But, as with this week's readings, it's important to study the gray areas without bias or sympathies. In 1996, two documentaries presented the fair alternately as a joyful experience for visitors and as an exploitative one for the people on display. While each film may ignore some details as the necessity of presenting a story, it's crucial to note that the fair was both a delight and nightmare, though not, on average, all of either.