Drum hadley biography of william
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… continued from Mackinac and Sault Ste Marie.
By Amorin Mello
A curious series of correspondences from “Morgan”
The Daily Union (Washington D.C.)
“Liberty, The Union, And The Constitution.”
July 22, 1845.
“The Wisconsin Territorial Seal was designed in 1836 by John S. Horner, the first secretary of the territory, in consultation with Henry Dodge, the first territorial governor. It features an arm holding a pick and a pile of lead ore.”
~ Wisconsin Historical Society
Gen. Henry Dodge, having been re-appointed Governor of the Territory, from which he had been “so ingloriously ejected after the election of 1840, by his political opponents, his valuable services” have ceased as a member of Congress. It became necessary, of course, to elect another delegate. To choose a candidate for this office, a democratic convention was held at the capitol, in Madison, on the 25th June. Horatio N. Wells, of Mi
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Henry Kimball Hadley
American composer and conductor
For other people named Henry Hadley, see Henry Hadley (disambiguation).
Henry Kimball Hadley (20 December 1871 – 6 September 1937) was an American composer and conductor.[1]
Early life
[edit]Hadley was born in Somerville, Massachusetts, to a musical family. His father, from whom he received his first musical instruction in violin and piano, was a secondary school music teacher, his mother was active in church music, and his brother Arthur went on to a successful career as a professional cellist. In the Hadley home, the two brothers played string quartets with their father on viola and the composer Henry F. Gilbert on second violin.[2]
Hadley also studied harmony with his father and with Stephen A. Emery, and, from the age of fourteen, he studied composition with the prominent American composer George Whitefield Chadwick. Under Chadwick's tutelage, Hadley composed many works, including songs, c
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The Author Of 'The Immortalist' Failed To Defeat Death, But He Left Behind A Legacy Of Love And Respect.
IT WAS THE novelist Vance Bourjaily, as I recall, who introduced me to Alan Harrington back in the winter of 1983, saying, "You'll like him. He's a good man and a good writer." We assembled at Jack's--the long-gone downtown watering hole whose well-heeled clientele Ed Abbey once startled bygd bellowing, in Alan's pained presence, "Smells like lawyers in here!"--on a cold Friday afternoon. We downed oysters on the half shell, drank, and talked until long into the night. The conversation was fine, if somewhat hard to follow, both because Alan tended to mumble and because, thanks to an ocular condition that sent his gaze off right and left at the same time, you could never quite tell when he was addressing you and not the person across the table.
For all that, I quickly discerned that Alan was, as Vance had promised, a good man, if one who nurs