Week Seven: Archives and Records Management

I'm sorry, friends, this week I just don't have anything witty or interesting to talk about. The subject of this week's readings was Archivists and Records Managers. While I recognize the need for both professions, and am very grateful such people exist, and even know and love wonderful people in such positions, both are positions I think would make me die of boredom if I had to do those jobs. I was simply not cut out to do either. I'm not calling these professions boring. I'm just saying they hold no interest *for me,* much like many people claim the greatest sport in the world (baseball!) to be boring, when it's really not. They're unable to find baseball interesting, and likewise, I am entirely unable to find careers in archives or records management to be remotely interesting. So this post will be pragmatic and to-the-point, in the interest of filling my class requirement for a weekly blog post. ;-)

Essentially, records managers AND archivists are both very important within a corporation. A records manager is mostly interested in information pertinent to the future of the company, meaning some information gets kept, perhaps reformatted, and stored for future use, while other information is permanently destroyed. Which make perfect sense for the efficient workings of a company. Keeping a lot of unnecessary information would absolutely make no sense, and perhaps be too cumbersome for things to run smoothly.

Archivists, on the other hand, keep records and original documents of things which may be important, not so much to the company itself, but to researchers in the future. They keep things for posterity and for the purpose of future learning. While some records may be of no use to a company after a certain date, future researchers may want to look into a certain period of the company's past, in which case, certain obsolete records may be pieces of vital information. Conversely, an archivist may have no interest in preserving certain records that a records manager would keep, because they have no archival value.

Of course, as far as a company (or government agency, or university) is concerned, archivists are "extra" or "unnecessary," so many only have records managers, who may, or may not, be capable of  serving a dual role as a good archivist as well. But in order for records to be properly managed and archived, any business or other institution should have both a records manager and an archivist who can work together to fulfill the needs of both the company, and future researchers.

Week Six: Bare Ankles, Union Soldiers From Georgia, And Rachmaninoff On The Harpsichord

It was a cool, misty morning in March of 1999, and a 15 year old me and my mom were in Arlington, Virginia, visiting friends. We set off for a day at Mount Vernon, and I was beyond excited to see the home of George and Martha Washington. Though at the time, my main focus was undeniably music, history had always been a major interest of mine, and I couldn’t wait to see the home of this historical legend.

We arrived at the site, and my first memory is of being greeted by a costumed woman, speaking to us in 18^th century language, and introducing herself as a house servant of the Washingtons.  (I think. I guess I should say, this was 14 years ago, so while I remember some things in extremely vivid detail, other things are a little fuzzy.) She gave us the usual background information about the Washingtons and the plantation, and life there. She never broke character that I remember, as she gave us a tour of the yard and buildings close to the house. At one point, she engaged the tourists, and I remember being amused and slightly (though only slightly) irked that she berated me for  wearing a skirt so short it showed my bare ankles (seriously, the skirt went alllll the way to my ankles, but did stop there), while ignoring all the other women in the group daring to sport extremely cropped hair or, even worse, pants! I was the only female there in a skirt, and thought I should at least get some credit for that, but I suppose the others there were better off because at least their pants covered their ankles? Yes, 14 years later, I do still think about and try to figure that one out. Lame, I know. 

I had never been to such a place before, where there were people like this woman. I was fascinated. I have a vivid imagination, and  spent much of my childhood imagining what it would be like to live in various time periods, so actually seeing someone talking to us, in costume, using correct 18^th century grammar and vocabulary, as though she had stepped right out of the 1780s absolutely fascinated me.

Fast forward almost three years, to December of 2003, in a hotel dining room in Georgia, where 18 year old me sat with my parents and about 30 other people, listening to a costumed man in his Union blues talk about his experience on the battlefield during the Civil War. Even though the setting was entirely modern and lacked the period authenticity suggested by Mount Vernon, I was at least as riveted as I had been three years earlier, for multiple reasons. I had always been far more interested in the Civil War than the American Revolution, but also, I was fascinated by the fact that we were listening to someone in Georgia, play the part of a Union soldier. Even then, I was keenly aware of the irony here. Additionally, I have been a lifelong Union supporter (but that’s another story for another time), which added to my excitement and fascination.

This guy did break character, when he removed his cap. He answered a lot of questions, including those regarding his portrayal of a Union soldier in formerly (some might argue currently- also another conversation for another time) Confederate Georgia. If my memory serves me correctly (again, 11 years ago here), he was actually the several greats grandson of an actual Georgia boy who had gone North to fight for the Union, for reasons of conscience regarding the slave issue (I believe he was unwilling to fight for a country which held slaves). For obvious reasons, he remained in the North after the war, but I believe it was either his son or grandson which moved back to Georgia with his family. He said it was true- he didn’t get as many calls to appear as his Confederate colleagues, but often was called upon by people who were either ambivalent about sides in the war, or who were Confederate sympathizers but genuinely fascinated by the story of a Georgian who went to fight for the North.

The next summer, 19 year old me visited an old French fort and settlement in Nova Scotia. Like at Mount Vernon, there were many costumed people present. Unlike Mount Vernon, none of them gave any kind of first-person accounts. They spoke about and demonstrated the life of people in the fort, but never pretended they were the people. I enjoyed this very much as well, because we could ask questions about contrasting the modern day with life in an early-18^th century French Nova Scotian settlement. I especially enjoyed speaking with the young man inside the main house who was playing the harpsichord. He was playing a Bach invention I was actually learning (though on the piano) at the time. When he finished, we talked about things like Baroque music, the differences between playing the harpsichord and the piano, and how funny he thought it was when he tried to play Beethoven, Chopin, or Rachmaninoff (the last of which was the most hilarious, according to him) on the harpsichord when no tourists were present. No, I didn’t get the first person experience, but it did get me thinking much more about the differences in the style and theory of the Baroque period, as well as the more primitive technology, producing a harpsichord rather than a piano, and what it must have been like for those alive during the transition period (for those of you who don’t know, the technique required for playing the piano is vastly different than that of playing the harpsichord- today we perform pieces on the piano originally written for harpsichord, and yes, the performance and interpretation is significantly different). Over-analyzer that I am, I literally thought about this for days. Actually, I still find myself really wanting to get ahold of a harpsichord and trying to play Joplin or Debussy on it, simply because of that conversation- which then inevitably always leads me back to thinking about the settlement and the reason it died: over-fishing. The bay on which it was located was filled with a certain kind of fish (I’m inclined to say cod, but I really don’t remember), and within 30 years, the bay went from being literally overpopulated with the fish to having them be nearly entirely wiped out in that location. Had that costumed harpsichordist not been there, I doubt I’d still think about my trip there in such detail.

This week’s readings were about performed historical interpretation. One reading was the first chapter of Joyce M. Thierer’s book, Telling History: A Manual for Performers and Presenters of First-Person Narratives. Thierer states that the result of good costumed historical interpretation is “active participation because an entertaining performance, a well-told story, inspires audience members to focus by appealing to diverse learning styles.” She also cites stories which say these presentations have emotional impact and creates long-lasting learning, which can be so significant to the observer, that it can be life-changing.  She also refers to it as “sneaky history,” meaning it is so much fun, even those who don’t like history enjoy costumed interpretation.

Of course, Thierer spent a lot of time talking about the various kinds of performed historical interpretation (spending much time saying re-enactors usually do things more for fun than scholarship, but serious re-enactors can be useful at times for certain programs and events). She talked about the pros and cons of each of the three kinds of experiences I talked about. Only having first-person interpreters who never break character can be awkward and uncomfortable for the visitors when they have questions about where certain things are. Having someone who breaks character can be confusing, if they don't make the transitions back and forth clear. Having people just in costume (she referred to them as "red shirts") can be interesting, but then the visitors miss out on the connection with a historical character that occurs with a good historical first-person interpreter. 

Personally, I enjoyed all of my experiences, and they all have stayed with me. I don't really have anything so fantastic to say with this post, but it was interesting to learn about the different kinds of costumed historical interpretation. I think the most important thing I took away from these readings is this: know what you have to work with. This includes everything: actors/interpreters, audience, costumes, settings, scripts, research materials, props, etc. Really take the time to figure out what is going to work best for your purposes. Failing to do this could end up doing more damage than anything else, and since history already gets such a bum rap anyway, correctly judging the situation is all the more important.

Week Five: In Which Mickey Mouse Decides To Play Historian…

I’m going to try and keep this post short and sweet, as I haven’t the time this week to wax verbose as I generally prefer to do. This week, the reading assignment focused around two essays from Mike Wallace’s Mickey Mouse History and Other Essays on American Memory. I’m going to focus on one of them, “Disney’s America.”

As many Americans older than I am may remember, Disney was facing a financial crisis in the 1980s. For a while, it was uncertain whether the company would recover or fold. By the end of the 80s, they had succeeded in producing some new movies which were big hits, such as Who Framed Roger Rabbit? and The Little Mermaid. Their brand was bouncing back, and my generation benefitted from it greatly. But Disney was also facing increased competition from other movie companies. In order to keep up, the company decided to launch a few new projects, including a theme park just outside of Paris, which struggled greatly, and registered hefty losses the first couple years, though it eventually became a profit-maker, and is still in operation, 20 years later. 

Because the theme park in France got off to such a rocky start, Disney decided to pursue a new project: Disney's America. Originally, it was supposed to be just outside of Washington, D.C. only five miles from the Manassas Battlefield. Of course, many people were concerned about the proximity of the park to the battlefield, worried that urban sprawl would threaten the battlefield's preservation as an important place in American history. This is definitely problematic for me- of course building any kind of large theme park or resort would threaten nearby areas, and a battlefield as important as Manassas should be protected. But for me, the park itself was the most problematic issue.

Originally, Disney claimed the park would contain various areas focusing on different parts of American history, including Native American culture and history, the Civil War, WWII, and Vietnam. Yes, I said Vietnam. Disney wanted to include the debacle that was Vietnam in a theme park. With rides. And games. Ehrm, I read that and actually said aloud, "What the heck, Disney? What the heck?!" Call me unreasonable, but I do have a problem including anything that's supposed to be accurate and thought-provoking on Vietnam, only to have it set up where people are on roller coasters minutes later. 

Of course, Disney quickly amended their original claim that the park's displays would be thought-provoking and accurate, saying, "The idea is to walk out of Disney's America with a smile on your face. It is going to be fun with a capital 'F'." Um. Wait a second, hold the phone. Are these people for realz? The theme park is going to include Vietnam, slavery and the underground railroad, the Civil War, Native American history...and yet somehow, these people are supposed to have as much fun exploring the horrors involved as in Disney World? I'm sorry, people. Not possible. If you're going to do that, back off the serious topics. In fact, just back off of history. 

The goal of presenting history should always be to provoke thought and increase knowledge. Sure, some things can still be fun and do those things. But to seek out "fun" while trying to educate about Vietnam and American slavery just seems so very wrong to me. Are we so addicted to "fun" that we must make all of life fun? Clearly, Disney did not end up building this theme park, and for that, I am grateful. It would have most likely severely trivialized history. Disney is not a learning company. It is an entertainment company. They specialize in drunk pirates, pixie dust, singing mermaids, and elephants that can fly. If Disney was to truly pull off a *good* site focusing on American history, and doing it accurately, it would have to realize that their profit margins on that site would probably be significantly lower than that of their other parks. They would also have to take special care to make sure that over time, they didn't "Disnefy" history. To do so would be a true atrocity.

One last observation I want to make. In the process of battling the public over the proposed site, Disney insulted historians. Wallace writes, "Adopting a populist stance, company publicists attacked opponents as 'landed gentry' foxhunters, or genteel 'no-growth proponents' who would turn the piedmont into an economic no-man's land and deprive working people of jobs." Disney included historians in this group, being painted as elitest and bourgeois. Nevermind that they're historians and might actually care to preserve the heritage that Disney seemed so eager to trivialize.
I like Disney, I really do. But Disney should stick to what it does best: fiction, fantasy, and animation. 

Week Four: Hellfire and Brimstone...and Archie Bunker Too

This week's post actually nicely follows last week's. I was torn between two of our articles this week. Both would have made fabulous blog posts, but doing both together wouldn't have worked for what I'm wanting to say. Perhaps I'll come back and make another post on the other article later, but for now, I shall focus on the article, "The Unstifled Muse: The 'All in the Family' Exhibit and Popular Culture at the National Museum of American History," by Ellen Roney Hughes.

I'm quite used to kneejerk reactions by various people who swear that the election of a certain president is going to bring the end of America as we know it, or that God is going to visit his wrath upon us for allowing a show like NYPD Blue on television (remember that, my Evangelical friends?), or even just that focusing too much on "the arts" instead of being wholly dedicated to the three R's, history and science, will bring about a country that's run by imbeciles who can't even find a word in the dictionary. I was at once highly amused and incredulous as I read this article last night, about how the Smithsonian came to incorporate American popular history into the museum...starting with Archie Bunker's chair.

I've never seen All in the Family in my entire life, but I do remember being aware of it as a child. My mom would talk about Archie Bunker as a mean-spirited bigot who cared more about keeping everything as he liked it than he did about other people. My parents have always been very accepting of people coming from different social, racial, religious, etc. backgrounds. They have also always been very conservative about language and such. I assume it's this combination which caused them to paint All in the Family as a "bad" tv show. As a result, I wasn't entirely amazed by what I read about the resistance the Smithsonian experienced when first displaying certain items from the tv show. Add to that my awareness of the resistance many in academia have toward new interpretations or ideas showing up in their discipline, and nothing about the piece was too shocking.

Hughes, who worked for the Smithsonian, talked about how the All in the Family display was the first nod the Smithsonian gave to accepting pop culture history as a legitimate part of American history. The exhibit, which opened in 1978, drew a lot of criticism from historians who turned up their noses at the idea that television could be considered an actual part of American history. Of course, some were still struggling to accept social history at this point, so for them, extending that to include popular culture bordered on abominable.

So, what DOES American pop culture have to do with American history? It's a valid question. As Hughes points out, pop culture reflects life experiences, social and political dialogues, commonly held beliefs, and any issues considered important by a significant contingent of Americans. Of course, this is why I've been so big on incorporating music into the history classroom for so long. It's also why I made my US107 students write a history paper, using an American novel as a primary source. After all, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Wizard of Oz, and The Great Gatsby were once pop culture novels as well.They weren't always seen as classics.

All in the Family was significant in many ways. For one, it was the first sitcom to show a real family, meaning, one with problems that wasn't all happy sunshine and smiles and togetherness all the time. For another, it dealt with real issues of bigotry and liberalism; the show was one big dialogue about issues Americans were dealing with. I think about my favorite sitcoms: Who's the Boss?, Cosby, and more recently, How I Met Your Mother (HIMYM). High art? Eh, probably not. But not at all insignificant. As a kid, I identified with Rudy Huxtable, especialy as the youngest child with significantly older siblings, and parents old enough to be her grandparents. Rudy and I had similar rules we had to follow, and similar likes and dislikes. She was real. She was relatable. Now, I think about HIMYM, and how I relate to that cast of characters, especially Ted Mosby. He was this kid from Ohio who had this idea of how his life was going to unfold, and it just didn't happen. The ups and downs he experiences along the way to meeting his eventual wife and settling down are more or less relatable- at least in general...the specifics, not always! I think one reason sitcoms are so popular is not because they're inherently hilarious, nor because they're incredibly dramatic, nor because the screenwriting is the best since Shakespeare, but because sitcoms- to a very real degree- reflect real life. Don't get me wrong, I love Bones and Castle and Revolution and House and Smash, but not because they reflect real life. Sitcoms may not be as refined, but they're much more real, and as such they do absolutely deserve a place in museums and historical study.

I write this as I'm preparing to travel to Albuquerque in 10 days to present a paper on African American music during the Jim Crow era at a pop culture/cultural history conference. There are entire panels on such things as Dr. Who (3 whole sessions, to be specific), Harry Potter (I think 5 sessions), The Hunger Games, Fifty Shades of Gray, Star Wars, as well as more general topics, like horror movies, music, religion, etc. Why is it legitimate to study Dr. Who and Harry Potter as topics in history? Because any time a tv show or book series, or movie, or any other piece of "pop culture" creates such a large wave that it causes an entire subculture to arise, it is worthwhile to look at those things and query, "Why?" There's a reason Harry Potter became such a huge part of Western culture. The reason is not found solely within its pages, or the movies, or solely outside of the books in society. It's a combination of the content of the stories, and whatever was going on at the time to make them such a hit, and looking at them from a historian's perspective can shed a lot of light on the matter.

Pop culture history takes social history a step beyond what the common people said and did and who they overthrew. It looks at what they liked, what they created, what made them "tick." Pop culture, like fine art, often reflects the issues of the day. Unlike fine art, it cares more about resonating with the people than  making some huge statement.

I could close there, but I'm not going to. I have to move on to the hellfire and brimstone portion of the article because, well frankly, it's too good not to pass along. We live in a nation filled with sensationalists who love to freak out because Clark Gable used the word "damn" in a movie, and declare the nation is headed to Hell in a handbasket. What I love is that every single generation says the same thing about the next generation as the generation before said about them. As a historian, I get a front row seat to all of this. It's hilarious. No, really, it is! You haven't lived until you've heard one generation diss another in 18th century English. It's fantastic. But I digress. Not only were there those who objected to a display about a tv show at the Smithsonian, but there were also those who objected to the specific show. American opinion was mixed about All in the Family. It had a longish run, so obviously, people loved it, but there were plenty of others, like my parents, who didn't look so favorably on the show. They got their knickers all up in a knot because the Smithsonian- with taxpayer money, no less- installed an exhibit glorifying Archie Bunker and his foul mouth and bigoted ways. *excuse me while I snicker to myself*

The Smithsonian received a flood of letters, mostly complaining about aforementioned glorification of "evil." Some of them are just too good not to share. I have seen so many such reactions to different things by the people I know (both in my mainstream Evangelical experience, which continues today, and my years in Christian fundamentalism), so these probably struck me as a little funnier than they'd strike the average person.

"We want to protest putting Archie Bunker's chair in the Museum. His show is vulgar, constantly using four letter words. Just things that the American people can be proud of should be put there." Which eliminates anything accurate dealing with the reality of life for women, Native Americans, Japanese, Chinese, and African Americans for, well, most of American history.

"What kind of American society raises a monument to bigotry, slobbiness, and a sneer at all decent American American values? The sad part is you are putting this alongside such memorials as the Spirit of St. Louis and other great achievements and seem to feel that it is in its proper place." I think the idea that an exhibit can display the significance of something without glorifying whatever was wrong about it is lost on most people, such as this person.

And my favorite quote, "I would never join the Smithsonian as long as you have an exhibit of Archie Bunker as part of American culture. Archie Bunker and Norman Lear are racist saboteurs and you are gullible nincompoops." I actually cannot read this one without both cracking a pretty amused smile, and marveling that somehow, this person managed to use the words "saboteurs" and "gullible" in the same sentence. No really, that takes talent! Of course, this person had just plainly misinterpreted All in the Family. Norman Lear (the show's producer) was actually not a racist. His point was to show Archie Bunker as a racist, in dialogue with his more progressive, Polish son-in-law. The idea was to help give voice to the struggles going on racially/ethnically/etc. in America at the time, not to glorify a racist.

Of course, there will always be older and more conservative generations saying our education is going to pot, or our morals are leading us all on a merry path to Hell and are going to invite the wrath of God on us all, but it is up to the younger generations to keep forging our new paths. All ideas were new at some point. There was a time when women were seen as having loose morals for exposing their ankles. Now, no one looks twice if a female exposes her knees, and no one (okay, well, no non-extremist) views that as immoral. There was a time when black people couldn't vote, and having equal rights with whites was seen as a sure way to bring about the degradation of America.

So what's my point? It's this: We shouldn't be afraid of blazing new paths because the old ones work fine or the older generations will be offended. We should move forward, because in most cases, we'll travel much further down the road of true progress than we will the road to Hell. Sure, caution is a good thing, and we should question the merits of our new exploits. But we should not hold back, for fear of certain criticism.

Week Three: Culture Wars and Revisionists

I want to start off by saying I'm writing this with a fever of over 101, and my brain is a little, well, foggy might be the best way to put it. I am therefore apologizing in advance for any typos, sentence fragments, or random words. Now that we have THAT out of the way, I shall continue.

I'm also going to say here that I know more people than just my history classmates will read this. I am fully aware that some of what I say here is going to rub some people the wrong way. It is not my intention to be inflammatory here at all. I am merely commenting, as a historian, on something I have seen a lot of.

While most of this week's readings came again from the Gardner/LaPaglia book and contained great information on working as public historians in various arenas (including sites, parks, museums, and even corporations), I want to focus on the supplemental article we also read. The reading was chapter one from Gary Nash's History on Trial: Culture Wars and the Teaching of the Past. Those of you who know my past know exactly why I chose this piece to focus on. For those of you who don't, read on.

Growing up in the mainstream conservative Evangelical world, the phrase, "culture wars" was one we heard often, and it usually pertained to loss of "family values," the emergence of gay marriage, abortion, secular pop/rock music, and many more modern tv shows and movies. It may be hard for some to imagine, but that emphasis on the culture wars increased tenfold when my family left mainstream conservative Evangelicalism and moved into fundamentalism, through our Independent Fundamentalist Baptist church and homeschooling organization. These culture wars included public school, Christian rock music, and women wearing pants, among other things, and in addition to everything the mainstream Evangelical world had declared war on.

During these years, I saw thousands of people fight these culture wars as if their very entrance to Heaven depended on it. It was also during this time I became aware of an insidious force  in the world: revisionist history. My A Beka history curriculum (published by Pensacola Christian College), church, and of course such fundamentalist groups as Wallbuilders and Vision Forum told me that the revisionists were liberals, out to change our history, and turn our country into an Atheistic Communist country. According to what I learned in high school (as a fundamentalist homeschooler) and as a young adult, almost all of our founding fathers were born-again Christians. Slavery "wasn't that bad" (and it was often just ignored). The women's suffrage movement was the beginning of the end for family values. The 1950s were perfect- everyone was happy and moral, and all was good. I even remember watching my A Beka school videos and listening to the American history teacher talk about how awesome the 1890s were.

Then I left that all behind, and majored in history in college. I learned so many things. I learned that while a few Founding Fathers actually were born-again Christians, most were Deists. I learned that no, actually, slavery WAS that bad and should not be ignored. I learned the women's suffrage movement was not such a "radical feminist" thing as I was taught. I learned that the 1950s were by no means perfect, and were filled with manipulation and fear-mongering and Joseph McCarthy. And the 1890s? I have yet to figure out what that teacher was talking about, unless overcrowded tenaments, a depression, and urban filth and corruption are his idea of a "good time." I learned that Revisionism can come from anywhere: left or right, and occurs when people have an agenda other than ascertaining and teaching what happened. 

This chapter we read talks a lot about the culture wars and revisionism, especially in regards to right wingers, Lynn Cheney, Newt Gingrich, and Rush Limbaugh.  I will admit I thought Nash was less balanced than he could have been, though personally, I see far more revisionism coming from the right than from the left. In addition to Cheney, Gingrich, and Limbaugh, people like Glenn Beck, David Barton (of the aforementioned Wallbuilders), and Bill O'Riley, seem to work more from a predetermined conclusion than from a set of questions relevant to primary sources. (That's being generous- Nash talked about a time when Limbaugh presented a set of history education standards as a new revisionist textbook...no way that's accidental!) It also seems as though for many people, the further right they go, the less they're willing to re-examine old information through new analytical tools (such as social history, agency, etc.). This is not always the case, of course.

With this kind of revisionism, I was taught that what happened, happened. There's no mystery to interpretation. 1+1=2, that's the way it's always been, that's the way it always will be, end of story, no need to go back and revisit old facts. Now, of course, that's true about some things. William the Conqueror invaded Britain from Normandy in 1066. That happened. Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492. That absolutely happened. The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. That happened. These things are not going to change with interpretation. Other things will. It seems to me that many of the people and organizations I have mentioned are rather adverse to accepting social history, even though it has been a significant part of historical interpretation for the last 50 years now. Another thing I see many of these people do is look at history outside of its actual historical context. Simply put, it is not possible to look at the Founding Fathers outside of the context of the Enlightenment. Of course, left-wing revisionists like to take things out of their historical context as well. In fact, they seem more prone to anaylizing things too much from modern perspectives than anything else.

I remember once debating about child labor laws on Facebook with a friend of mine who is decidedly more conservative than I am. We branched off into women's suffrage, and I believe slavery and civil rights as well (you know who you are!). She and I were going about our debate quite civilly when I got a private message from someone I didn't know. He was basically imploring me to stop embarrassing myself with my lack of historical knowledge and understanding. He then said how interesting it is that Jesus or the Apostle Paul never advocated people demanding their rights and standing up for themselves against authority, as was common in these various social movements. I replied back, asking him what constitutes just authority, and how American slaves were wrong in trying to get their freedom, as many of these slaves were kidnapped, which, according to the Old Testament, is punishable by death. I also asked him how it was that slaves, children, and women were not Biblically justified in fighting for their rights, and yet the American Revolution, and the failed Southern Revolution were acceptable. Of course, he came back saying I don't know enough about history or the Bible for him to try and explain it all to me. It was more the double-standard that struck me than anything. Things that come from the study of politics and empire (such as revolutions) are acceptable, but things that come from a study of the little man (social history: slaves, children, women, and poor people, to over-simplify) were clearly taboo.

The reality is, we as historians- and as a society- must find a balance between looking at the past as a set of objective facts which are as easily interpreted accurately in 1800 as in 2013, and something that is always changing, ever fluid and fluctuating. The reality is yes, what happened happened. However, our ability to understand and interpret what happened, and why, is constantly in flux.

Does anyone actually expect to accomplish anything productive when using such terms as "culture wars," and while pointing the finger at those darn revisionists on either side of the spectrum, when in reality, both sides are often revising things to their own liking? When I grew up, and heard of two people fighting, I often heard people say, "the truth is probably somewhere in the middle." Meaning, neither account was probably correct on its own, but if we look at the facts, and take both stories, we can probably get fairly close to working out what really happened.

Why can't we do this with history as well? This is where I'll probably lose some of you. Why should it be this big deal if America was not established as a Christian nation? Why should it be some earth-shattering event to find out America was only "the land of the free" for white landowners? No, really. Can someone tell me? If that's what actually happened, why is it such a travesty to acknowledge that, and work forward from there? I can ask the same kinds questions to the extreme left as well. Why is it that we must go into our historical research with a conclusion ready to go, wanting not to find out what actually happened and why, but trying to figure out how to use facts and/or interpretation to prove our foregone conclusions?

In conclusion, I do want to say, it's very important to re-examine facts, and do it often. Who writes the history can control what it says. This is a bit light-hearted, but nonetheless true, and I wanted to leave you all with something fun. In the musical, Wicked, the wicked witch, Elphaba, has a conversation with the Wizard, in which the Wizard sings the following:
     "Elphaba, where I come from, be believe all kinds of things that are wrong. We call it "history."
      A man's called a 'traitor,' or 'liberator,'
      A rich man's a 'theif' or 'philanthropist;'
      Is one a crusader, or ruthless invader?
      It's all in which label is able to exist.
      There are precious few at ease with moral ambiguities,
      So they act as though they don't exist."
He's actually spot on here. In most of Western-written history over the last few centuries, the European crusaders have been the good guys. In most Middle Eastern history over the last few centuries, they were the bad guys. Really, what's right? Just because Columbus said he was exploring for the glory of God doesn't mean he actually was. He knew his journals were going to be read, are you kidding me? Of course, he's not necessarily the monster he's been painted as more recently, either. It is really important that we, whether historians or just responsible citizens, pay attention and educate ourselves, constantly taking into account new findings, and approaching our research without preconceived conclusions.

 Here's the video for the song I mentioned above. You should watch it- makes me smile every time.

Week Two: What's A Historian to Do?

No, really. What is a historian to do? Ever since I changed my major as an undergrad from music to history, just about any time someone asks me what I'm studying and I tell them, they end up saying, "So...you're going to teach?" This probably happens 99 times out of a hundred, and no, I'm not exaggerating. If I had a dollar for every time someone has said that to me, I could probably buy myself that new laptop I so desperately need. The general public seems to assume that if someone is going into history, the only occupation open to that individual is teaching. In fact, many history majors, and many people with history degrees mistakenly think the same thing.

As I said in my last post, when I came to Southeast Missouri State, I had no idea what Public History is. I did know that some historians work at museums and historic sites, but I really didn't know anything more than that. In the last two years here, studying in a department with an excellent public history program, and finally deciding to get a certificate in Heritage Education through said program, I have learned a lot about the opportunities open to public historians. However, I have learned more through this week's readings about specific possibilities than in the last two years combined.

While reading through the various essays for this week's assignment (again, taken from the Gardner and LaPaglia text), I kept thinking, "How is it that I have gotten to the end of my Master's program, and am just now learning of all these possibilities!?" I mean, sure, on some level, I knew each option existed, but kind of in the same way that I know travel to the moon is possible: people do it, but not people like me. The more I read, the more I thought about what a shame it is that so few people- whether currently studying history or already possessing a degree- know about all of the options out there. In fact, I began to think that this really should somehow be fit into the college curriculum for history majors. Perhaps even just existing in booklet form with a title such as "What To Do With A Degree In History," and being handed out to graduating Seniors would suffice. But somehow, it's a small travesty that so few people with history degrees know their options. When I was a Senior at Ouachita Baptist University, as part of the CORE curriculum, every Senior had to take a "Senior Seminar" with other Seniors in their school, which for me, was social sciences. For one hour each week, Senior history, psychology, political science, and sociology majors would meet and discuss topics relating to being a professional in the social sciences. Perhaps one of those class periods could have been about specific options for each of those majors- options other than those "obvious" options everyone seems to think about. There was way too much material in this week's reading to talk about here, so I will stick to talking about the four occupations I found most surprising and interesting:

So, what are these "other" options? The first is that of "administrator." Michael J. Devine wrote this essay, entitled, "Administrators: Students of History and Practitioners of the Art of Management. Devine spends a lot of time persuasively arguing why historians, and not business people, should be placed in positions of administration at museums and historic sites. He also gives a nod to the "feud" between academic and public history by retelling a story about a historian who worked at the Smithsonian for years and then went back to the university where he got his Ph.D. to give a talk to the graduate students about his work, of which he was very proud. One of his former professors approached him afterwards, saying what a pity it was that he couldn't get a teaching job, because he would have made such a good historian- implying that working for the Smithsonian does not count as being a historian! How absolutely ridiculous this is. Devine's main point is that historical institutions absolutely must have a historian as their chief administrators, because only historians can really understand what is important. Someone with an M.B.A. and no history background will not. It's the same with many administrative roles, really- most school principals and superintendents have teaching degrees, hospitals often employ M.D.s in administrative positions, etc. For an administrator to do his or her job well, he or she must not only be a good delegator, mediator, decision maker, and budget maker, but he or she must also be very familiar with whatever it is in which the institution specializes. Otherwise, it will not work as it should.

The second was highly interesting to me: independent contractor. I guess I knew they existed, but I'd never thought of it before. Jannelle Warren-Findley discusses this option in her essay, "Contract Historians and Consultants." She talks of the ups and downs of such a career choice, and why she eventually chose another path. After reading this essay, I think perhaps this might be something I could happily do as an alternative to teaching. Of course, one of the pitfalls to this is having to figure out how to run your own business, but that is true with many career choices. Some of the benefits though include being able to use and develop different skill sets, travel (she once spent three weeks in Asia as part of her job), and work independently. While challenging, this would be a great option, and could potentially be great fun.

The occupation of documentary editor was option number three. Written by Candace Falk, "Documentary Editors: Not As Boring As It Sounds," discusses an aspect of documentary making I had never before considered. She talks about how it often takes decades of dedicated research on a single topic to create a documentary, and actually refers to it in terms of "psychosis," saying that a documentary editor has to be almost obsessed with his or her topic to do it well. One thing I didn't realize is that for many documentary editors, they spend years going through unpublished, and often uncatalogued primary sources. In Falk's case, she went through more than 20,000 letters, writings, and other documents associated with Emma Goldman (now there's a person I'd love to write a blog post about!). Of course, with something like this, much more is accomplished than simply a documentary at the end of  the project. Thanks to Falk and her team, thousands of microfilmed primary sources regarding Emma Goldman now exist which did not before. This will no doubt be a significant resource for many researchers for years to come. One of the later essays in this week's reading, "Film And Media Producers: Taking History Off The Page And Putting It On The Screen," by Nina Gilden Seavey was also about documentary filmmaking, and discussed some additional issues dealing with this (and related) chosen occupation.

Surprising occupation number four is discussed in Sylvia K. Kraemer's essay, "Policy Advisors: Historians And Making Policy." Kraemer was involved in helping the Clinton Administration develop its space policies. Of course, this kind of position is much harder to obtain than the others I have discussed, but regardless, it is an interesting place for a historian to land. She addresses the issue of "objectivity" concerning historians involved in policy-making, in that while our profession makes complete and true objectivity more or less impossible (as she put it, historians do not really approach topics with a "tabula rasa," rather we have already formed some biases and have specific-rather than general- questions in mind), historians are especially able to search out the evidence and counter-evidence concerning these questions, and then utilize the information in a way which is conducive to creating solid policy. Essentially, Kraemer argues that one of the biggest benefits to having historians as a part of a policy-making team is that we make excellent decision makers based on empirical evidence. This was something I had not considered, but is absolutely true- historians do indeed have a fantastic set of skills to help with creating policy, and not just in the government, either. There are plenty of corporate applications for this as well.

To sum it all up, there are far more career opportunities for historians than even many of us know. I do believe it would behoove us to figure out a way to educate history majors in these possibilities before they end up educated and out of work, or working a minimum-wage job that anyone without a high school diploma could do. Perhaps, it's time for a change.

Week One: The Hatfields and McCoys

In addition to my M.A., I am working on a graduate certificate in Heritage Education. While I have completed all but the thesis for my M.A., I still have one course required for my Heritage Ed. certificate, which I am taking this semester. As one of the requirements for this course, each student is required to keep a weekly reading blog, with entries pertaining to our readings. Because I already have this blog, and because the requirements for these posts are so broad, meaning I can make most of them interesting to a lot of people outside of my class, I have decided to go ahead and post them here. I'm actually looking forward to the opportunity to do more blogging this semester. I may post some entries not related to my class, as I always do, but I'll have at least one per week from my class. I suppose we shall see how this goes!

For our first class, we were assigned to read the first two essays from the book, Public History: Essays from the Field, edited by James B. Gardner and Peter S. LaPaglia.

In her essay, "Becoming a Public Historian," Constance B. Schulz spends most of her time looking at how a person becomes a public historian and how public history as a legitimate subset within the field of history has developed over the last several decades. Interestingly enough, public history has only been recognized as a legitimate field since the 1970s. Before that, very few historians who went on to graduate school ever intended to work outside of the academe. Most of the historians who found themselves working in museums or historical sites, or otherwise working outside of a university setting, only did so after they failed to find jobs within universities. Public history (which had not yet received its name) was seen as a last resort for failed academic historians. Working outside of the academe was viewed as second-best.

Finally, in the mid-1970s, a few universities began developing graduate programs (almost exclusively within history departments) specifically to train public or "applied" historians. Not only did the students in these programs study academic history and learn to study, write, and research as an academic historian, but they also received formal training in working with museums, archives, and many other public history venues. At long last, the academe was "legitimizing" public history. Well, kind of.

Patricia Mooney-Melvin focuses on the ongoing tension between academic and public historians in her essay, "Professional Historians and the Challenge of Redefinition." When I arrived at Southeast Missouri State University two years ago, I had a B.A. in history, and absolutely zero idea of what "public history" is. I'd never even heard the term. It was not long, however, that I learned that public history is simply presenting history to the public, in one way or another, whether it be through museums, archives, documentaries, newspaper articles, historic preservation, or something else. I thought, "well that's cool, but I don't want to be one." My passion is academic history. And that's where my thoughts on the matter ended. Then I had a rude awakening.

There is an ongoing, decades-old, cold war raging between many public historians and academic historians. Um. Why? That's an excellent question. But I suppose that asking such a question about this issue will do little more good than asking what exactly it was that began the famous feud between the Hatfields and McCoys. I'm not sure anyone really has a good answer to that.

Mooney-Melvin's essay got me thinking though. She argues that the term "historian" should be redefined (though I'm not sure it was ever really defined well to begin with), in an effort to help include both public and academic history, which would then help bridge the gap between the two, and foster a more cooperative relationship between public and academic historians. This is not a bad idea, by any means. However, I can't figure out why there would be any tension between academic and public historians. In my opinion, the two are highly inter-dependent, and the two disciplines should be mutually inclusive, not mutually exclusive, as some would like to make them.

In her essay, Mooney-Melvin talked about many academic historians who would love nothing more than for their work to be used solely by other academics. What a waste. Yes, I said it. To me, that's  no different than a brilliant research doctor saying he only wants his discoveries used by other research doctors. They may cure cancer, but never make it available to the public. How is it any different for a historian's life work to be used only by other historians? Sure, the application of history may be less life-saving than the application of cancer research, but it is no less important to the future of society.

I don't want to make my living full-time as a public historian, but I do want my research and work to allow me to be of some use in making this world a better place. I study African-American history, and right now, my main focus has been slavery and abolition, but I've also studied many other topics within African-American history. It is impossible for me to count the number of times people I know have asked for my help, as a historian of African-American history, on things ranging from how to raise their kids to be truly colorblind in terms of race, to asking me to step in and help mediate a raging online fight having to do with a racial issue. It has been my privilege to be able to do a lot of practical good as an individual historian in these matters. No, doing things like mediating an argument about race, or trying to get through to someone who has been raised in a culture of racial prejudice, are not by any means fun. I often feel as though I'm being handed a ticking bomb and told to deactivate it. Um, no thanks. But I also do know that this kind of work is important- vital even- if we are to improve as a society at all. As a historian, I realize that we rarely do more than trade one set of evils for another, but as humans, our goal should be to always better ourselves, and better society, whether we end up succeeding or not. We have made great strides as far as racial equality goes, but we have a very long way to go, and if I was to spend my life studying African-American history and never use any of what I learned to make a practical difference in this area, that would be a profound waste.

Not only do I personally want to make a difference, but I'm glad to know there are public historians out there who can take my research and writings, and interpret them for the public. They can take my work and make it practically accessible and understandable to non-historians. Conversely, I am able to spend time researching certain topics on a level that a public historian simply cannot do, because they're too busy doing other tasks.

I realize, as these two essays point out, that there is definitely a rift between the public and academic history communities, but there absolutely should not be. Both subsets are vitally important to society, and absolutely inter-dependent. Without public historians, academic historians would be useless. Without academic historians, public historians wouldn't have enough information to present to the public. Both sides are desperately needed.

To put it bluntly, both sides need to get over themselves and realize they can happily work together, rather than constantly bickering and demeaning the other side. Really, how is this any better than the Hatfields and McCoys?