In the land of Harmonists and Owenites

By Bill Brooks

Found myself in southern Indiana in early August, including a day-long stop in a town many of us may remember from that fifth-grade class in Indiana history.

New Harmony.

I remember it more fondly as part of my life from ages 32 to 38, when I lived and worked a dozen miles down the road in Mount Vernon. A very nice place to live, nestled on the banks of the Ohio River in the “toe” of the state. Nice – but New Harmony was, and is, idyllic.

So you don’t remember learning about New Harmony, site of two experiments in Utopian living? So you’re not a connoisseur of Indiana history? (There are, reportedly, 17 of us.) So you think Indiana history began with the arrival of the Colts in Indianapolis?

Too bad, because you’re missing a real treat. But before I talk you into visiting New Harmony, population maybe 800 or so, here’s what you should know: There’s not much to do there. Plenty to contemplate, plenty to ruminate over, plenty to see. Not much to do.

What’s more: That’s the plan. New Harmony is not an amusement park, nor much of a tourist trap. It’s a retreat. Not in the official sense, because New Harmony is a living, breathing small town. It is Mayberry without Andy Taylor, but with people earning livings that have nothing at all to do with visitors such as me who roll through New Harmony with an interest in history and an interest in a day without worry.

What’s so special?

The answer lies in New Harmony’s earliest days. It was founded in 1814 by the Harmonie Society, a group of German Lutheran Separatists who believed the Second Coming of Christ was imminent. That philosophy caused them to work diligently in search of perfection, in a communal fashion – which in turn resulted in a flourishing community what was at that time on the American frontier. The Harmonists produced goods, with nary a stimulus package in sight, which were marketed to major cities in the young nation, and even abroad.In time, the group’s leader, George Rapp, took the community back to Pennyslvania, where it had previously flourished. He sold the town to a Scottish industrialist named Robert Owen, who was looking for a place where he could create another sort of model community – one where education was greatly valued and where social equality would flourish.

Yes, in Indiana.

There is much to know and be impressed about Owen’s version of New Harmony, starting with Owen himself, a social reformer well ahead of his time. And with his business partner, William Maclure, recognized as the father of American geology. Maclure was president of the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia before moving to New Harmony in 1826. He brought with him other well-established scientists and educators, traveling down the Ohio River in what became known as the “Boatload of Knowledge.”

Others included Thomas Say, a naturalist and father of American entomolgy. And Charles-Alexandre Lesueur, naturalist and artist. And Frances Wright, social reformer and writer. And artist Karl Bodmer, and educator Marie Duclos Fretageot.

Of particular interest is the next generation of Owens – especially to our neighbors in Herron-Morton Place. One of those offspring was Richard Owen, the much-celebrated commander of Camp Morton, the Civil War prison which was located in the Near-Northside neighborhood. Owen’s credentials are even headier: state geologist, a professor at Indiana University, and the first president of Purdue University (although he never did much presiding, because the school never got off the ground during his tenure).

The list of accomplishments for the Owen offspring continues. Robert Dale Owen, as a congressman from Indiana, wrote the legislation which created the Smithsonian Institution. He also helped write Indiana’s second Constitution, and is given credit for the state’s adoption of a free public school system and securing rights for women.

David Dale Owen, a renowned geologist, supervised the first geological surveys of Indiana, Kentucky and Arkansas. Sister Jane was an educator who ran a school for girls, not a common thing in the early 19th Century.

In many ways, the Owen clan is Indiana’s first family. Not typical, not representative. But first.

The Owen period in New Harmony lasted only a few years before falling apart, a fact which should cheer all critics of socialism.

What remains today, thanks largely to an organization called Historic New Harmony, is a collection of boasts eight Harmonist sites and 25 Harmonist buildings – 15 of which are included in a guided tour.

There are contemporary wonders, too, not the least of which is the Roofless Church, a nondenominational wonder designed by famed architect Philip Johnson. There’s also the starkly contemporary Atheneum, the visitor’s center, designed by another famous architect, Richard Meier.

New Harmony also boasts a fine restaurant, the Red Geranium, in the town’s only hotel, the New Harmony Inn. Nestled just behind the restaurant is a truly unique oasis in a town of oases: Tillich Park. Not much bigger than a Downtown front yard, Tillich Park is named after the eminent Christian theologian Paul Tillich, who never lived in New Harmony but was so taken by the place that his ashes are interred there.

Then there’s Thall’s Opera House, converted many, many years ago from one of the Harmonists’ “community buildings.” And the New Harmony Theatre, a professional, equity theater. (I even had the honor of serving on that theater’s founding board of directors, “back in the day.”) New Harmony even had a movie theater, something which wasn’t there in my tenure.

One caveat: I recommend not visiting New Harmony during one of its festivals, such as the Kunstfest in September. (Yes, you read that right). While wonderful unto themselves, the popular events distract in a town where the lack of distractions is the greatest joy.

There is no shortage of information to be found about New Harmony on the internet. So much, in fact, that I could be making all this stuff up about living there lo those many years ago. But it’s true.

And speaking of many years ago, it was almost exactly a half-century ago when I first learned about New Harmony in that fifth-grade Indiana history class. It was a blue book, I remember.

Just as clearly, I can close my eyes and picture the New Harmony of today. I’m a big-city boy at heart, but New Harmony is the one small town where life doesn’t dull at all.

Imagine the frustration of the East End shopkeepers. As this newsletter goes to press, it has been 3½ months since their leg of Mass Ave became a one-lane cone zone in anticipation of the construction of the Indianapolis Cultural Trail.

“Anticipation” is the key word here, since by late August that’s all that had occurred. Everyone understands that construction schedules are elusive critters and that unpredictable weather can ruin the best-laid plans. But it’s difficult to see the end of a year-and-a-half project when the beginning never seems to happen.

And is it just me, or has work on the North Corridor – from Alabama Street westward to Indiana Avenue – far outpaced the work on the Northeast Corridor, through Chatham Arch and the East End of Mass Ave? Is the fact that it’s a different construction company any factor here?

All we can do is trust that, one day soon, those East End orange cones will start earning their keep.