every weekend. coming up this president's day weekend, saturday at 6:00 p.m. eastern on the civil war author edward achorn talks about his book "every drop of blood" abraham lincoln second inaugural speech considered one of the greatest speeches in american history. sunday at 2:00 p.m. eastern virginia coleman describes her experiences as a chemist for the manhattan project at oak ridge to build the atomic bomb. and monday at 7:30 p.m. eastern on american artifacts, photographer and storyteller john ploshell on the bust of american presidents created by sculptor decaying on a private property in virginia. explore the american story. watch american history tv this weekend on cspan3. next on american history tv, a historical interpretation

group known as the legendary ladies portraying notable women from western history including sharpshooter annie oakley and mother jones. held by the golden history museum of golden, colorado. this is about 50 minutes. >> back in time to hear the stories of real women who made a significant impact on the west. welcome sharon with legendary ladies. >> good evening and welcome. i'd like to give a special thanks to megan murphy who just left us for inviting the legendary ladies to visit with you today. the women of the west were quite varied. you need only look at the costumes they are wearing or listen to the stories they tell to understand this. some women came west with husbands or fathers who are in search of gold, opportunity or land in the west.

often, the landscape they encountered was quite different from the one they left behind. some had to learn new skills in order to survive. some women were born here and others came for their own reasons. but each was met with a challenge due to their gender or their path they chose. so let's take a step back in time and bring history alive. in an era when opportunities for women were limited, annie oakley's amazing ability with a gun proved that women could do just as well or perhaps better than men. >> howdy. yes sir. annie oakley was my stage name but i was christened phoebe ann

moses. they thought phoebe was too fancy. as soon as i was big enough to lift my daddy's hunting rifle, he taught me how to shoot. but my daddy died when i was 6. just left my mama in an awful way. we were dirt poor. when i got a little bigger, i discovered a way to help my mama. i saw a squirrel nibbling a nut on the fence post outside our cabin and i decided to shoot it. i got my daddy's long barrel rifle from above the fireplace and filled it with enough gun powder to kill a buffalo. and that was no easy task because the barrel of the rifle was taller than me. eyeballing that squirrel i placed the long gun on the railing of the front porch and pulled the trigger. when all that smoke cleared, that squirrel shot cleanly through the head. i still think it's one of the best shots i ever made. i spent my days hunting to

provide food for my family. my mother would often say to me, phoebe ann moses. stop shooting, you're supposed to be going to school to prepare to be a wife and a mother, not shooting. but i continued to provide fresh game for my family. i became so skilled at it that i regularly sold part of my kill to a local grocer. soon, customers were specifically asking for birds and game shot only by me. they knew i brought down the game with a clean shot through the head rather than the body. that way diners wouldn't crack their teeth on a piece. i don't know how i acquired this skill. i guess i was just born with it. it was so difficult for my family to keep, for my mama to keep our family together. things had gone from bad to worse. in 1870 when i was 10, mama just

had to send me to the county poor farm to live. i was hired out to help a family in the next county, which wasn't unusual. but it turned out to be a nightmare. they locked me in closets. they kicked me out in the snow one night because i fell asleep while dining. they worked me half to death from morning to night. i felt like a slave. after staying with those for two years, i couldn't take it any longer so i ran away back to the county poor farm. the people who ran the place took me in and treated me like one of their own. and they taught me how to read and write. in 1875, i left to visit my married sister in cincinnati, ohio. while there, i took up hunting and sold part of my game to the hotel. the hotelkeep knew my history as

a shooter and shooter exhibitioner named frank butler and the prize was $50. this should be easy moneyb$kecmxó■ o shooting some farm boy. but was he in for the surprise of his life. we were both down to 25 live birds and when the last shots rang out i had downed 23 to frank's 21. it was the first time frank butler lost a shooting match. i won the contest and frank's heart. we were married august 23rd, 1876. frank joined the sales brother circus with a new partner, frank. when they were to appear in springfield, ohio, gram became ill so frank asked if i could help. during the performance, frank

missed several shots and a man in the audience stood up and said, let the girl shoot. the audience went wild and the team of butler and oakley was born. never did like the last name of moses. i thought i needed a new last name to go along with my new career as a performer and oakley just sounded like a better stage name. when we appeared in st. paul, minnesota, the sioux indian chief sitting bull was in the audience. and he insisted that he meet me. he said i reminded him of his daughter. who had died. and he offered to adopt me. he gave me several presents and nicknamed me little sure shot. we became life-long friends. we set our sights on buffalo bill coyote wild west show.

we approached cody about joining. he was skeptical at first. he didn't think 110-pound girl could lift a ten-pound rifle. but he agreed to a tryout. frank threw one clay pigeon after the other into the air and i shot every single one of them starting with my right hand switching to my left. when i was finished, a man standing in the corner watching came running out yelling, fine, wonderful! it turned out it was cody's business partner and hired us on the spot. cody and i didn't always see eye to eye. but he was the kindest hearted person i ever met. he called me little missy. he agreed that it was smart for his partner to hire us and made me a featured performer in his shows. and i did plenty of trick shooting performances. i would often shoot backward holding a rifle over my shoulder

holder a mirror aiming at a target behind me. i started shooting from horseback. that certainly was a crowd pleaser. but it was my accuracy that made the crowd gasp in astonishment. in 1887, cody took the whole troop to london as part of the american exhibition for queen victoria's golden jubilee. the prince of wales and his wife attended a performance and i had the chance to meet them. but according to tradition, you always greeted the prince first. but i shook hands with the princess first. i said, you'll have to excuse me, please, because i'm an american and in america ladies come first. i had the privilege of meeting queen victoria who made a rare appearance at one of our performances. she called me a very clever little girl. after being a bride for three

and a half years, life began to take it toll on the road so the train taking us home crashed and i was severely injured. that cinched the decision to leave the dear old wild west. we settled in maryland and spent our summers hunting and fishing with our dog, dave. we continued shooting exhibitions and i taught shooting lessons at the local gun clubs. i was particularly interested in teaching women how to shoot for sport and for protection. i think every woman should learn the use of firearms. i steered my own course and through life and i hope i change people's minds about just how extraordinary a woman could be. i died at the age of 66 but my legacy continues to this day. for the past 80 years, books, movies, broadway musicals, tv shows --

>> canada dry presents -- annie oakley. >> board games and even paper doll cutouts have all celebrated my amazing career. i want to thank you all for coming to the show today and i hope to see you at our next performance. [ applause ] >> this gutsy physician treated all ailments, including the deadly spanish influenza of 1918. meet dr. susan anderson. >> ma'am, ma'am. it's dave. dave is all torn up from the barbed wire. he's hurt bad. i heard you were a doctor. please help. dave is all i got.

that's what the young man said to me inside the general store in frazier, colorado. i had a dilemma. i didn't want anyone to know i was a doctor yet until i was well from the tuburkeulosis but i needed more time to heal. my oath gave me no choice. i ran home and picked up my medical bag and followed the cowboy to a corral. where's dave? he pointed to a horse. it was common for country doctors to treat livestock, but i felt like a fool. with help i got that horse untangled and sewn up. after that, folks decided i was a good healer in spite of being a woman. i cured myself and i saw patients all over fraser and middle park. while i charged 25 cents for a house call, i rarely collected cash, but lots of firewood.

ten years later in a single day, officials canceled church. they canceled school. they even had to forbid people from attending funerals. in 1918, the worst epidemic ever to hit this plannic spanish inflew wensa arrived. newen with knew what to do about this horrible disease but this country physician. i am susan anderson, medical doctor. some folks call me doc susie. denver doctors told me about the spanish influenza. some said it started in the trenches in france during the last months of the great war. some said it started in a military camp in ft. riley, kansas. it was a massive outbreak which began as a nasty cold that either got better in a few days or killed the patient. this flu often skipped the young and elderly but sucked the life from robust adults in their 20s,

including servicemen. while we won the great war, spanish influenza was the deadliest battle. i worked day and night going from house to house. so many needed my help and if i could not get to them within 12 hours of onset, they often died. bodies were everywhere. and houses on roads dumped in graveyards. i had never felt so helpless. doctors knew it spread by coughs and simply breathing, especially in crowds. but no one knew how to cure it. not even the surgeon general of the united states. his advice, avoid wearing tight shoes and gloves. the spanish flu disappeared as quickly as it came. simply vanished. in 16 months it killed 14 million people around the world from the united states to the

south sea islands. with the invention of the electron microscope two decades later scientists discovered a virus caused the disease. never came back again. i saw many ways to prevent other diseases. i was often called to lumber camps to treat and while there i gathered women and children for physical exams and administered smallpox and diphtheria vaccinations. then i inspected the area. spotting poor health practices. move that privy away from the creek. we don't want a typhoid epidemic here. any good doctor knows an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. i kept my medical bag stocked with standard supplies including bundles of dressings that i boiled and ironed to kill bacteria, a dental kit and

surgical tools. on a typical day i might stitch a laceration, pull a tooth and deliver a baby on the kitchen floor. when i could, i traveled by train to colorado general hospital in denver for supplies and caught up on medical advances with university physicians. they knew i worked under primitive conditions without a laboratory or x-ray machine. and they considered me the best diagnostician on the western slope. however, it did not take a doctor to diagnose drunkenness, banning booze would make my job easier. many medical problems stem from alcohol abuse. seizures, beatings, gunshot wounds. drinking alcohol ruined lives. now, i used it for one reason. to get my patients through

surgery. since i never stocked narcotics, i told many a wife, go ahead and give a little whiskey for the pain. so, i was thrilled when prohibition finally passed in 1920, let's get the date right. and colorado had been dry for four years already. but most folks, well, they figured out how to get around without it anyhow. one way was lydia pinkm's vegetable compounds made from herbs and 20% alcohol. advertisers claimed cures all women's ills. including a craving for alcohol. i told my patients, it's mostly liquor, throw it out. i don't think they heeded my advice. and local folks everywhere brewed their own hooch. i asked sheriff fletcher why he couldn't stop them. he said, if i arrested every

moonshiner, all the men in grant county would be in jail, including county officials and state legislatures. and who would vote for me? fraser valley became prime moonshine territory looking to make a profit. e bootleggers so the sheriff deputized me and included me on many raids. i'd grab my medical bag, my hat and my ax, join up with the deputies and treasury men and the sheriff would yell you are all under arrest and then i'd start. i'd love smashing those stills. white lightning flew out of those barrels. prohibition was an exciting time for me. i may have been a little

eccentric since i never threw anything away. my house was full. but i created narrow paths for stacks of books, catalogs and newspapers. i even hid my cash in those stacks. eventually, i had little space for patients. no room for food. so, i often dropped in at meal time at people's homes whenever i felt like it. i did not eat much. and i liked to visit. besides, it was a good way to collect on some bills. i heard charlie warner bagged himself an oak. hot oak stew tonight. thank you. >> and now we have all the way from san francisco the lady who went to blazes, lily coit.

>> i was known as fire bell lil. i was 20 years old. fighting fires alongside firemen. that's when a gossip columnist for harper's weekly heard about me. and reported that i could singal handedly rescue men, women and groups of children from burning buildings carrying them down from dizzying heights on my shoulders. clinging to frail ladders, my skirt's ablaze. to tell the truth, i was a firefighter. i helped man the hook and ladder. i saved lives. i wasn't afraid of fire. let's go back to my beginning. i was born in 1843 to wealthy parents. my father was an army doctor and when i was still a young girl, he was appointed medical director of the entire pacific

coast. we moved from kentucky to san francisco. but it was a very difficult time for me. i battled with my mother constantly. i wanted to wear trousers. but mother forced me to wear dresses and act like a lady. at age 15, i had to host a little girl's tea party at the marie house downtown san francisco. we were in a second floor room and the hotel was being renovated and one of the workman must have gotten careless with a kerosene lantern because right in the middle of the tea and crumpets, the room filled up with smoke. i tried the door. it was blocked. oh, so hot. outside i heard the fire gong. it was knickerbocker station

number five. they threw up the ladders and i pushed the screaming girls out the window one by one while the firemen from number 5 pulled them out. all except two who ran back in the room when the walls started to collapse. well, i had to leave those girls behind. i climbed on a fireman's back and road him right out of the flames. i leaped off to the street and that's when i fell in love with fire. with the bravery, the excitement, the danger of firefighting. from that moment on, i followed the laddies from number 5 to every fire i could. they hailed me as their official good luck mascot. i can still remember the thrill of that fire gong as the horses galloped past the house. wait for me. and i would run out and jump on the fire wagon.

i cheered those laddies with my speaking trumpet. fight that fire, boys. i converted a man's uniform trousers into a split skirt. it wouldn't billow in the wind or snag on the ladder. once we raced to a fire on telegraph hill, one of the highest points in san francisco. as the laddies used hand pumps to pump up the water pressure, i took up the fire hose, pointed it at the fire, straight at me the new town fire commissioner. get that girl out of here. oh, i turned the hose right at him. don't you touch me, you bully. well, he stopped just long enough. i swung the hose back towards the fire. start her lively, boys. oh, the water pressure was strong enough to knock a man down but i had an iron grip on

that fire hose. nothing could make me let go. i'd like to tell you a few things about fighting fires in san francisco in 1860. the firefighters were all volunteers and each district had their fire station. now, in the event of a fire, the first company to arrive was awarded, here it is, a fox tail. they hung it proudly outside their fire station. now, on the next fire call if a rival company responded first, well, the fox tail passed to them. this caused fierce competition between fire companies who accused each other of invading their districts trying to gain hero publicity. furthermore, the first company to arrive had the right to refuse help from other fire companies, even when they knew they didn't have enough water to

put the fire out. because of pride and mismanagement, countless buildings burned to the ground. somebody had to talk to those firefighters. well, i tried it. i said, why risk your lives? and the lives of your comrades for a fox tail? and you must be willing to accept help from other fire companies. well, they refused to listen to me. well, by this time i was not only number 5's mascot, but also their financial sponsor. i bought the steam engine for the fire wagon in 1868. and a new team of horses. i proposed a full dress parade for all the volunteers to show the people of san francisco the fine men and machines protecting their city. the laddies liked that idea. the rivals from firehouses that

were fighting earlier began to talk to each other. the parade became an annual event. before long, city officials decided that the volunteers should be paid city employees. i had a hand in that. was i eccentric? more than once i left the formal dinner party and fought a fire in my best gown. i married howard coit a caller at the san francisco stock exchange. a man beneath my social standing. to irritate him i sometimes shaved my head and wore a different color wig every day. i love to gamble. but those gambling houses on north beach didn't allow women, so i dressed like a man and some of the time i got in. i played poker with the best of them. i'm lillie coit and when i died

in 1929 i left the city $118,000 to build a monument honoring the firefighters. they erected a tower atop telegraph hill made out of concrete and they named it coit tower. it overlooks the statue of three brave volunteer firefighters from knickerbocker station number 5. the best friends i ever knew. thank you. >> thank you. don't let mother jones frail appearance deceive you. hell has no fury like a woman with a cause. >> my, my, my look at all you folks out there. appears my union boy husband done a good job getting you all

in here today. let me introduce myself. my name is mary harris jones. or my boys like to call me, mother jones. now, did you know that i'm considered to be one of the most dangerous women in america? it's true. and it's all because of my union organizing. i got involved in unionism in a round about way as my husband george had done some recruiting for them. after i lost george in our four children to yellow fever in 1867, i knew that somehow i had to go on with my life. so, i went to chicago where i had found work as a seamstress and while i was in chicago the great fire erupted and i lost everything. well, i was devastated and i did not know where to go for help so i turned to the union and i became aware of their crusade to improve the conditions for the working class and i thought, they could use my help. so here i am.

i am heartened to see all you folks out here today seeking information about our union. the mine owners have money, power and political influence and they use all of this in order to maintain control of your miners and the deplorable conditions under which you work. for me to come to you with a message of improving your lives and working conditions through unionism is, indeed, a risky business. i harbor no illusions as to my vulnerability. in fact, i recently saw a picture of another union organizer who had died at the hands of a group of armed union busters and i was amazed that was not me. i do not deceive myself at my old age. even my sweet granny face will protect me because it won't. they say that i live in the belly of a shark and i believe it.

now, i do owe a good measure of my remaining safe to the fact that i maintained complete solidarity with the working class. these men, women and children harbor and protect me. and they keep me out of the hands of the posies. of course, it also helps that i got a darn good instinct for getting me and my work publicized. but i do have my detractors. there is no love lost between me and that newspaper reporter poly pry. that goody to shoes will print everything she can against my work. and i have a number of detractors among those high flutant women of the women suffrage movement and that feeling is mutual. they say i'm a paradox because i do not support women suffrage and yet i do believe that women have strengths not yet discovered. well, i don't pity the poor women of the working class. they have resourcefulness and

pride and a joy of life and tremendous faith. and a reality resolves around trying to keep food on the table, their houses warm and their children clothed. and they live with a constant fear of mine accidents. those horrible accidents that kill their husbands and overnight leave the families destitute. yes, many a grieving mother who made the very difficult decision of sending her children to work in the mines because the family had lost all means of support. and so the older boys would take their father's place in the deep, dark cold depths of the mines doing back breaking work while their younger brothers would work the chutes pulling rock out of the chunks of coal or they would man the trap doors where they let the mules in and out of the mine where they pull the work carts. their younger brothers would be doing other chores that are also

needed around the mines. if this wasn't bad enough, then i heard about the horrible conditions of the children working in the textile mills down south. so i went under cover and presented myself to a mill manager as a person seeking employment. when i told him that i had other family members that were also seeking employment and children, he hired me on the spot. so the next day i went to work. and when i went into the building, i saw them. children 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 years old working alongside their parents. they were working amidst the horrific noise and the dust of the mill. they were climbing under the equipment to oil the machines. they were reaching into the looms to repair broken threads. they were carrying the heavy skeins of yarn. they worked eight-hour days for 10 cents a day.

and there were younger children there, too. who were to be assisted their older brothers and sisters because they, too, would soon renounce their childhood and become a wage earner at the age of 6. the children started their work day at 5:30 in the morning and by the time they took their noon day break, they were exhausted and many would fall asleep over their lunch buckets only to be aroused awake to go back to work. that was their only release. they had no playtime. the children looked old for their years. and there were many injuries, broken, missing fingers, maimed hands, maimed arms and illnesses and death. consumption, bronchitis, pneumonia and getting caught in the machinery. sunday was their only day off.

at which time they were expected to go to church and then they would have a little play time. but most were too tired to participate in play. i met maggie a sweet little 11-year-old when i stayed with her and her mom. it was maggie's day off and her mom asked her if she wanted to go out to play, but she said no. that she was just too tired so she slept and then the next day she went back to work. they carried her home that afternoon and laid her out. she had gotten caught in the machinery and had been killed. so you may wonder why aren't the children in school? well, there's two things. the families were so poor and they had so many children because they didn't know not to have children and so all who could work had to work in order to keep food on the table. only when a child was injured, would that child be allowed to go to school. although the schools were not

adequate, at least it gave the children a chance for some of a childhood. moreover, the concept of a required, free, public school education originated in the 19th century. but it wasn't until 1918 that it became a requirement that all children should have, at a minimum, elementary school education. so, the union is working tirelessly to eliminate the worst cases of child labor. some states have enacted laws but we have a long way to go. i was in recruiting in west virginia and pennsylvania when i got a call to come to colorado. i bet a lot of you folks out there don't realize there were so many coal fields in colorado. like around louisville and marshal and in the northern part

of the state, garfield county and route county in the western part of the state. trinidad, cameron, and many, many more in the southern part of the state. i first arrived in trinidad in 1913. i came at the request of the miners who asked for my help in the struggle against john d. rockefeller as colorado fuel and iron works based in pueblo. the mine condition working were horrible. with my encouragement 8,000 miners went on strike for basic demands. as can be expected, violence erupted shortly therefore in the coal fields so the state's governor called out the militia. the militia under general chase was not neutral and when they arrived in trinidad, the general immediately ordered me out of the state. so, i had to go. and then i promptly came right back and when i did the general had me placed under military confinement in trinidad where i stayed for a number of weeks.

and then he threw me into a rat-infested jail for several more weeks. all during this time, 11,000 miners statewide heeded the call to go on strike. and colorado resembled a war zone with woeth sides armed and ready to shoot. when i finally got of jail, i was immediately summoned to washington to appear before congressional committee and miners issues. while i was gone the state's militia decided to take matters into its own hands and early in the morning of april 20th, 1914, they attacked the little town that we call lunlo. they attacked with guns and machine guns and fire. the next day after the embers had cooled down and miners could get back to their camp, they found over 20 people dead. men, women and children all dead from gunshot or suffocation.

well, the state and the nation were horrified that this could happen and the miners were enraged and they began attacking and destroying the mines and mine buildings owned by rockefeller in the trinidad area. the killings continued and colorado stare under to the deep abyss of class warfare and hatred. i came back to my boys in colorado and counseled them to keep a level head that help would soon be on the way. help did finally come with the arrival of federal troops to replace the militia in the coal fields. strike finally ended in december, but sadly no victory for my miners because none of their issues were addressed. the struggle goes on and on and on. oh, goodness, gracious, look at the time. the rally's about ready to start and i got to scoot. i do hope to see you there. [ applause ]

>> when our men went off to war, ray wilson found a way to help on the home front. >> train's coming. >> we heard the shout and eagerly lined the platform at the north plat station to surprise our men when they pulled into the depot. it was december 17th, 1941, and war had recently been declared. i am ray wilson. i was hoping to see my brother, captain denver wilson who commanded one of the nebraska companies rumored to be on that train. women and girls had brought cookies and cupcakes, cigarettes, magazines and gifts for our men going off to war. the train pull under to the station and stopped to take on coal and water. we scanned the windows searching for familiar faces.

where are you boys from? kansas, company d of the national guard. disappointment set in as we realized, we had been misinformed. well, i'm not taking these cookies home, i said. and stepped up to pass out goodies to the soldiers above me. and the other women followed suit. such grateful smiles, cheers and thank yous. oh, i practically floated home remembering the scene. the following day, i wrote a letter to the editor of "the daily herald" proposing that we begin a venue that would greet every troop train coming through. i volunteered to organize and run this venture free of charge. the following week, we opened

the north platte canteen on christmas day. the idea caught on as whole towns from as far as 150 miles away, grand island, nebraska, to the east julesurg, colorado to sign up to man the operation. what started out as cookies and cupcakes soon ballooned into a full buffet as people gave what they could. we kept records. here's what was brought in on just one day. 127 fried chickens. 58 dozen cookies. 68 dozen doughnuts. 73 pounds of coffee. 160 loaves of bread and comparable amounts of eggs, ham, lunch meat, cupcakes, plus cigarettes, playing cards, $600 and more. peeling eggs was the first task

of the morning as bushels of eggs were delivered daily along with homemade mayonnaise that we transformed into egg salad sandwiches. pheasant sandwiches were amayon. pheasant sandwiches were a favorite in season and sometimes out of season. women whipped turkey egg whites into angel food cakes. a special treat, and every service member with a birthday got back on board with a cake to share. popcorn balls were especially popular because of a surprise tucked inside. a slip of paper with a girl's name and address. many pen pals resulted and even one marriage. the train pulled into the station and dozens of men, citizen servicewomen, too,

hopped off and ran into the station lunchroom for their 10 to 15 minute refuelling break. across the room they found long tables filled with food. at the sidewalk there was a table laden with books, magazines, and cigarettes and candy bars that disappeared in a flash. and everything was free. at the far end they could get a shoe shine or sing the tunes coming from the piano. don't sit under at apple tree with anyone but me -- i'll be seeing you in all of the old familiar places -- >> and young girls lined up, eager to dance or just talk.

this frenzy repeated itself 18 to 32 times a day and into the fight. it was exhilarating. too soon the train whistle sounded. and the men scampered back on board to continue their journeys to who knows what future. some would never return. the room, which had been crowded and noisy was suddenly empty and quiet. and then we got busy to greet the next train. i was off and on dish washing duty, a never ending chore. some men climbed back on board carrying their coffee cups or bottles of milk. the conductors collected these, and put them off at the next station and brought them back to

us to wash and use again. we received mail from all over. men on the front lines wrote to say how much it meant to them to have one place unique in the nation where they could see friendly faces on their cross country journeys to unknown destinations. their wives, mothers, and sweethearts thanked us for our service. some of those notes included money to help with expenses. one letter came from the white house. saying "heard you're doing some good things out there" along with a check for $5, signed by president franklin roosevelt himself. august 14th, 1945, the war was over, our troops were coming home and we were there to welcome them again.

we stayed open eight more months until the final troop train came through and we took down our sign. the canteen operated for 51 months. meeting dozens of trains every day rain, shine, or blizzard. greeting over six million servicemen and women. if you visit north platt today, you will not see the train station. they tore that down years ago. oi but you make look at a statue of me in the memorial garden. when people ask what did your town contribute to the war effort? i stand proudly and say we may not have had a big war industry, but north platt exported morale.

[ applause ] >> ray wilson, annie oakly, dock susie, lily coyt, and mother jones. these women survived by their wit and determination. they and countless others paved the way for the freedom and individuality that women enjoy today. please join me in saluting their courage. [ applause ] you're watching american history tv. every weekend on c-span 3

explore our nation's past. american history tv created by america's cable television companies. we're brought to you by these companies today that provide c-span as a public service. weeknights this month we're featuring american history tv programs as a preview of what is available every weekend on c-span three. tonight we take a look at african-american history. since the 1970s david pilgrim has collected items that mock african-americans. they argue that though the artifacts are offensive, they can be used to teach understanding. we visited the museum to see a selection of their artifacts. watch tonight at 8:00 eastern and every weekend on c-span 3.

>> american history tv on c-span 3 exploring the people and the events that tell the american story every weekend. coming up this president's day weekend, saturday at 6:00 p.m. eastern, on the civil war author edward acorn talks about his book "every drop of blood." considered one of the greatest speeches in american political history. sunday at 2:00 p.m. eastern on oral histories, virginia coleman describes her experiments that helped build the atomic bomb. and monday, on "american artifacts," the 42 giant busts of american presidents that are decays on a private property in virginia. watch "american history tv" this

weekend on c-span 3. up next on $)xd(sq)ican hisy tv" a discussion about■]>b¿ñ&■ "black cowboys in the american west." he spoke about the experiences of black cowboys from the early 19th century to present day held by the cultural center in morrison, colorado. >> i met cowboy mike at the western history association conference. a conference of academics from many different universities and historians. they give their papers and they're recognized as western historians. i would also see him at conferences at the western writers and authors. i authored several books including