The Wynds of History

Bringing the Museum to the People

2010-04-26T08:52:00.000-04:00

Hear/read this morning's story on NPR's Morning Edition about SFO's (San Francisco Airport) museum program - the only U.S. airport museum accredited by the AAM (American Association of Museums.) Great story, including discussions about the value of accreditation and the questions of audience and accessibility.

Front Page News - March 12, 1770

2010-04-18T08:50:00.000-04:00

Tony Nauroth, a columnist with the Express Times newspaper in the Lehigh Valley, has put out a call for information on a March 12, 1770 Boston Gazette Country Journal front page article foreshadowing the Dec 16 1773 Boston Tea Party. The newspaper clipping is now owned by Ruth Gainer of Moore Township, left to her by her late husband, Glenn, whose last request was for Ruth to find out more about the clipping, originally found by in a drawer in his grandmother's house in Elizabethtown, PA when he was in high school. (Glenn died last July, age 90.)

Kudos to the Express Times for two different history-focused features this Sunday morning.

News: Saucon Valley Conservancy and the Heller Homestead

2010-04-18T08:33:00.001-04:00

Congratulations to the Saucon Valley Conservancy on the nomination of the Michael and Margaret Heller House (Heller Homestead) to the National Register of Historic Places. The property was approved for nomination by the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission this month. Next step is a final review by the National Park Service. Read the press release here. Also featured in this morning's Express Times.

If you are looking for something to do next Saturday, April 24th, head to Hellertown, PA in Northampton County for the 3rd Annual Saucon Valley History Day. Tour one of three historic buildings, participate in hands-on activities, and learn about the early days of Hellertown and the Saucon Valley.

Who Pays for Historic Markers?

2010-04-16T08:29:00.000-04:00

Ken Finkel questions the future, and credibility, of the Pennsylvania State Historic Marker program after the change in funding from public to private. Pay to Play History?

Lecture at the AAS in Worcester, Mass

2010-04-09T09:08:00.000-04:00

The American Antiquarian Society has announced a lecture on Uncivil Discourse. Jim Leach (President of the NEH) and Jill Lepore (historian and author of several works including New York Burning) speaking together should be a *good* discussion. Highly recommended if you are within easy traveling distance of Worcester, Mass.

Also highly recommended is Annette Gordon-Reed's book The Hemings of Monticello (also mentioned in the article.)

What is Public History?

2010-04-01T07:03:00.000-04:00

Nicholas Sarantakes provides a very useful answer to the question What is Public History?

Jobs in History

2010-03-15T17:30:00.000-04:00

These days a common discussion in any space - virtual or physical - inhabited by graduate students in history is the state of the job market. Again, as in the 1970s, part of that discussion includes what historians can do other than teach at a four year institution. Having strayed from the path of tenured professor years ago, I actively look for opportunities outside of academia, and recently, am intrigued by public highlights of such jobs. Here's a spotlight from the Washington Post on the FBI's Official Historian.

AHA - What We're Reading

2010-02-04T06:40:00.000-05:00

I am finding the AHA's weekly blog post "What We're Reading" a very useful tool. A compilation of good articles and resources from across the history spectrum. When I can, I feature one or two here in more depth. This week, I recommend scanning the list yourself as there are several very interesting items, from a new children's museum in NYC to a retrospective on Howard Zinn to a request from the National Archive. Enjoy!
http://blog.historians.org/what-we-are-reading/979/what-were-reading-february-4-2010-edition

An Exercise

2010-01-27T22:55:00.001-05:00

An assignment for this week was to pick a famous quote about history from a given list and write a logical argument or defense.

The historian depends on certain realities and comforts. Some are ephemeral and physical - the smell of a leather-bound book, the sharp contrast of black gall ink on bleached linen paper. One is visceral and immutable - the security of an extended intellectual community, the protection of a multiple participant dialogue. The scholar of the past can depend on one fact - no historian works in a vacuum. Unlike the tree in the forest, doomed to an eternity of philosophical inquiry made possible by the absence of an audience, the historian by nature of her profession has, at minimum, an inherent audience of peers who first listen and then continue to question. Historians create a record defined by those who went before and subsequently altered by those who follow. Philip Guedalla said of our craft, “History repeats itself; historians repeat each other.” For in our search for the grail of truth, the answer to “what really happened” is discerned by repetition, not only of inquiry, but also of interpretation. Only by layering observations compiled from different actors and interpreted by varied observers, can we hope to approach the horizon of historical understanding.

Additional Mission for House Museum

2010-01-22T09:25:00.000-05:00

The Decatur House, opened as a museum in the 1960s by the National Trust for Historic Preservation, is reported to have a new mission and focus: the history of the White House. According to the New York Times, the museum will now, "support research related to White House history, store historical documents, offer expanded educational programs for children, and host lectures and other programs that explore the history of the White House and the surrounding area." The National Center for White House History at Decatur House will be operated by the White House Historical Association.

I have talked before about house museums as products of the political climates within which they are born. (See Patricia West's Domesticating History: The Political Origins of American's House Museums.) What drove Decatur's new mission? A political understanding that only part of the story was being shared? A desire to prove that lessons were learned from the discussions and controversies surrounding the revisioning of the Liberty Bell Center? The intent to share with the public research compiled over the last several decades that represents a shift in how history is viewed and portrayed?

I am interested to see (not only on the museum's web site but also in the NYT) the emphasis on the museum's intention to interpret the lives of all who lived in Decatur House, free and slave. Is this new or just newly talked about? The original mission of the Decatur House Museum was to "educate the public about American cultural and social history as it relates to the House, its location, architecture, preservation, and its occupants and their stories," according to this document. However, the museum summary also makes reference to discussions of who lived in the house and how space was used, demonstrating that urban slave life was being discussed at the Decatur as early as 2000. Perhaps the "new" aspect at the Decatur is simply the public announcement of good history already being presented.

In addition to the links presented above, visit the National Trust for Historic Preservation's page on the Decatur House for more information, including images.

Reviews of West's book can be found here and here.

Historic Bethlehem Event

2010-01-04T07:41:00.000-05:00

Looking for a fun evening in late January? The Historic Bethlehem Partnership is hosting a Winterfest and Beer Pairings on Sunday, January 24th from 4-7 p.m. at the Hotel Bethlehem. Smithsonian Institution speaker Warren Perry will speak on the repeal of Prohibition.

Can Scrensavers be an Engagement Tool?

2010-01-02T09:38:00.000-05:00

A child of this digital age, my laptop is more than a tool, its a physical space where I work, play, think, relax. I could pretend that this post was triggered because thinking about the spaces we inhabit is of interest to me. Truthfully, I've been a junkie for pretty pictures and cool animation ever since the first flying toasters chased toast. Luckily, that penchant can lead to deeper thoughts.

Today's early-morning-pre-coffee rumination was, "Hmm. Christmas is over. Need new screen saver that doesn't have presents and garlands in it. Wonder if there are history ones?" A simple search led to the cheesy screen saver sites of which a smart user is leery. A few more minutes and I had found that PBS creates screen savers for some of its programming. Those with a historical bent include: The Six Wives of Henry VIII, Ken Burn's The Civil War, Lewis and Clark, Tesla, and Theodore Roosevelt. (For more, go to the PBS search page and put "screensaver" into the search box.)

What about museums? Colleges and Universities discovered years ago that wall papers and screen savers featuring their campuses could draw alumni to an institution's website. Surely museums have learned the same thing? Along with this thought, however, came the question of resources. How affordable/feasible is it to make a screen saver, even if you already have digitized images? Fast on the heels of THAT question...what about image policies and digital copyright?

First, is the material available? Absolutely. The Smithsonian's online exhibit, America by Air, has a page of images and objects. The New York Historical Society online library has a digital collection, also. (Check out Brooklyn Revealed for an example of a great history website.) So pictures exist and are already online.

The question of copyright from a user point of view boils down to "read the rules." Some museums give you access to images and don't mind if you download for individual use, such as loading into a screensaver slideshow. Others do mind. Find, read, and follow the photography or images policy. From an institutional viewpoint, have a policy. Having spent last fall investigating museum policies, one of the mechanisms I found most useful as a user was the FAQ page offered within some policies. A FAQ page allows the museum to answer specific questions such as "May I download an image to as a screen saver or wall paper on my personal computer?"

If the images are there, why then aren't there screen savers for download? I cannot be the first person to think of this. Must be concern for resources. While I can get my way around my laptop, I am not a power-user and definitely not a programmer. However, my initial unscientific research suggests that creating an actual screen saver is much more than throwing some digital images together. A screensaver is an application, one that must be specific to a platform i.e. PC or Mac, and one that would have to be written for each set of pictures. Hmm. Ok. So where does that leave me as a user and as a professional?

Personally, depending on the institution's policy and my willingness to invest the time, I could download individual images into a folder, point my screensaver to the folder, and create a slideshow. How can institutions benefit from the public's desire for images without spending significant resources? My initial thought, based on half an hour of work and two cups of coffee, is this. If your institution has digital images and a clear image-use policy, on a page where you offer individual images, also offer an option to download the entire set. This allows me as an end use to have the entire set in a few key strokes instead of repeating the download process for each image.

Where does this leave me this morning? Still with Christmas Trees flashing on the laptop screen when I stop to think a bit. But also with the idea in the back of my head to be aware of collections of images I find while surfing history sites and the awareness to be thoughtful of how I professionally present images on web sites. Now...what else can I find out there?

Separation, marginalization, collaboration - St. Augustine's Slave Galleries

2009-12-17T08:35:00.002-05:00

Sometimes we compartmentalize our lives. Work, school, home, church - we divide our resources between the activities and demands that call us. Sometimes the lines blur, but often we work to keep them separate.

During today's morning routine of coffee and laptop, I skimmed the headlines of Episcopal Life Online and found a historical example of such separation. Fairly front and center is a story on the recently renovated and interpreted slavery galleries in St. Augustine's Episcopal Church on New York's Lower East Side. The church, built in 1828 (a year after slavery was abolished in New York State) collaborated on a renovation project with the Lower East Side Tenement Museum on the historic building's slave galleries, two small rooms behind the organ where blacks were allowed to worship - out of site and separated.

This is the second recent project (within my awareness) where an Episcopal congregation has dedicated resources to understanding their own past in terms of slavery. Why the Episcopalians? On the modern end of the timeline, we've done a lot of soul searching of late (complete with hard work and loss) about owning differences and removing separations. On the other end of the timeline, if one generalizes about Colonial congregations, Episcopalians tended towards possession of wealth, status, and in some cases, slaves. The rooms existed in St. Augustine's because there was a (perceived) need. Some congregants owned slaves (or had free blacks in their households depending on the date) as did some of the founding fathers who attended Christ Church in Philadelphia, another congregation putting commendable effort into revealing its past associations with slavery. The Christ Church Preservation Trust sites a "mandate from the 2006 General Convention of the Episcopal Church to give a full, faithful, and informed accounting of its history" as the impetus for delving into their past and designing a tool for engaging that past in the present. Sarah's Story is a 30 minute interpretive experience offered at Christ Church during the summer months. An interpreter portraying a young, black, female slave shares stories of several historic figures, black and white, in a deliberate review of "early Philadelphia and its silent past."

I remain proud of the Episcopal Church's work to own who we are and choose whom we will be. Issues of segregation and marginalization are not only in our past. May we continue to find the strength to own and discuss past examples in our efforts to remove such obstacles from our present and our future. Also continuing to "do good history" in the process - well, that's a delightful benefit. Road trip to New York, anyone?

Review: Mary Lyon on the Web

2009-11-23T07:48:00.000-05:00

Mary Lyon on the Web

http://www.mtholyoke.edu/marylyon

Designed and constructed by the Mount Holyoke College Office of Communications.

Reviewed November 17-22, 2009

The founder of Mount Holyoke College and a pioneer in women's education, Mary Lyon left school at age 13. Aimed at students of the same age, the site opens with questions for consideration, sets Lyon in context, and invites students to picture themselves in the story. Pages focused on specific themes follow: Childhood, Student, Founding, Opening Day, Seminary, Daily Life, Science, and Legacy. The pages are clear, interesting, and consistent. Each has a pictorial header, quote from Lyon, historical narrative, and a picture. Sidebars appear on two pages, listing facts placing Lyon's story into the larger context by sharing information about life in 19^th Century United States. One discusses childhood, the other historical highlights. Additional pages include a “cool facts” list, suggestions for school projects, and links for further research on Lyons and on women in the 19^th Century.

The content is written to appeal to the adolescent student and be appropriate for use in a classroom. For example, no mention is made of religion or of Lyon's death in 1849. Lyon is presented at all times within the lens of education – either a learner or a teacher. While keeping the target audience well in mind, the narrative considers issues of gender and to some extend class. No mention, however, is made in the narrative about race. A single sidebar bullet mentions slavery and the abolition movement. The reader leaves the Web site with a sense of daily life for girls and women in 19^th Century America and the understanding that the story of Mary Lyons and the young women who attended her seminary was the exception for the day, not the norm. A slight slant towards appealing specifically to and focusing on young women can be explained, if not excused, by the ownership of the site by Mount Holyoke College, and the assumption that while a teaching tool, it is in at least some small part a recruitment tool also.

The use of pictures is striking, especially those of personal objects. They create a tangible link with Lyons while also depicting a facet of life for a women of her time – a pin cushion, drawings she made, the green velvet bag in which she collected donations for the opening of the school – making the experience seem three dimensional. The site does not make creative use of other Web based technologies. This may be a result of being created in 1997. However, this lack is tempered by the crispness of the design and the creative interplay of narrative, list, and picture.

This site provides a biographical snapshot of a woman whose accomplishments directly affected women's history in the United States, appropriately written for its target audience of middle school students. Whether as a source for a student paper or as part of a classroom presentation, the site provides solid history.

Lyndsey Brown

Temple University

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Tools of the Trade

2009-11-22T18:57:00.000-05:00

Questions Questions

A goal of our Managing History course, and of Temple's Public History program as a whole, is for each of us to wrestle with and construct an informed definition and answer to the questions, "What is public history?" and "What do public historians do?" While this is an evolving process for anyone in this field, every historian must define an initial place to stand and from which to speak. This is mine:

Public history is any process through which an individual tangibly studies the past in order to understand the present and to be an informed, active participant in the creation of our collective future.

Public historians commit to creating access for all individuals and communities to the most current research on what historians know and understand about the past, presenting that information in ways that allow for direct, personal experiences, and advocating the stance that knowing and understanding how past events unfolded is critical to creating and living in a healthy, stable society.

So we have to know the history, share the history, make learning the history a tangible, livable experience, and assure that everyone in our society has access to that experience. How do we do that? As in any other trade, we do it with tools. Let's add another question to those I'll spend a career defining. "What are the tools of a public historian?" As several of our readings this week explored new media and digital technology, let me focus in this post on how these new developments serve as tools or allow us to use old tools in new ways.

Tools of the Trade

Daniel J. Cohen and Roy Rosenzweig wrote the book "Digital History: A Guide to Gathering, Preserving, and Presenting the Past on the Web" to address the question, "What is the process of '...doing digital history, (of) making use of the new computer-based technologies?'" (Introduction) They identify "the need 'for a guide to gathering, preserving, and presenting the past on the web,'" review the "qualities of digital media" that allow historians to work, and counter with a list of dangers that the same technologies present. In doing so, they have simultaneously gifted historians with a tool (the book) and a review and analysis of the tools provided by digital media. Additionally, they have challenged an area of concern regarding access, means, by publishing the book not only in traditional paper form, available for purchase, but also on the web, available for anyone with digital access. What other tools do we use?

Information Historians work with facts, data, stories, opinions, dates - in short, information. History can be defined as what we know about what happened that we have at hand to share with others. New media has changed not only how historians disseminate history but also how we gain the information in the first place, i.e. research. From online archives to discussion groups such as H-Net to Google Scholar to the ability to access JSTOR from my home office, the access historians have to data and discussion continues to increase daily.

Interaction History is created by the interaction of people with objects and with each other. (While an idea may be born in a vacuum, the effects of that idea ripple out beyond the individual.) One new technology offers an answer as to how to "bridge the gap between online communities and the physical world." In his article, "Hyperlinking Reality" librarian Nate Hill explains how a two dimensional bar code, such as your library may use to tag their books, can be placed on an object in the community. Individuals can then take a digital image of that tag, connect with a website linked to the code in the tag, and either gain or share information about the object or location. Hill explains how this might build community in cyberspace. "Now an online community can grow each time an individual happens to walk by the park bench, take a picture, and collaborate, much the way that conversation and interaction happen in a real-world community." Hill's article speaks to how technology may connect individuals and may help create sources for the recording of interactions that may eventually become history. He also shares a tool that we historians might be able to use. What if we place a bar code placed on the back of historic marker? When you take a picture of the bar code with your cell phone, a link to a website is saved. When you get home, you access the website and expand the knowledge gained by seeing the space and reading the sentence on the marker. The tag for the marker of a battlefield could lead to a map of the battle, a personal story of a soldier who fought and died there, and the coordinates of his grave back home in another state. Upon which, perhaps, is another bar code.

Objects Some will ask why we need the bar codes. One can go and see both the site of the battle and the grave of the fallen soldier. A fear raised by technological advances specific to objects is that people will content themselves with representations of things and no longer desire interaction with things themselves. However, digital media can also allow us a type of physical access to objects. I cannot go to see this piece of lace personally, but I can examine it digitally. Moreover, even if I was able to travel to the location where it was displayed and the lace was on exhibit, I would be limited to looking at the object through a glass case, from at least inches, if not feet away.

Spacial sites The concept of sites, physical locations of interactions of note, is a tool used frequently by historians. The attraction of historical localities as places to visit and learn is centuries long and still relevant per recent studies. The importance of spaces to the study of history is not new, and the expansion of the definition of "space" continues. Last week in Prosthetic Memory we read Alison Landsberg's concept of transferential space - a public, constructed space "in which people are invited to enter into experiential relationships to events through which they themselves did not live." (p. 113) Digital history can take us into spaces in a way we may not be able to experience physically. Whether a set of pictures accompanied by text, a virtual tour or a rendering of a building that no longer exists, digital resources let us explore spaces. New endeavors in social media sites such as Second Life allow one not only to explore a museum but to interact with other people at the same time, adding the benefit of building community.

The Future The future itself is a tool. By considering where we as a culture and civilization may be, we can speculate about what we may need to know. We can then use that lens when deciding what to teach about our past so that we make conscious choices about our future. The Center for the Future of Museums (CFM) is a think tank that "helps museums explore the cultural, political and economic challenges facing society and devise strategies to shape a better tomorrow." (p. 3) Its report, "Museums and Society 2034: Trends and Potential Futures" is fascinating reading. A group of very smart people, Reach Advisors, "...poured over nearly a thousand articles, data sets, interviews and discussion forums to identify the trends that are most likely to change U.S. society and museums during the next 25 years." (p. 4) This paper should be required reading for any American with a stake in the year 2034. From an population that is increasingly multi-ethnic and aging to a society with dramatic changes in gender roles and an unprecedented divide between those who have means and those who do not to possible mindsets about energy, consumerism, technology, and globalization, the possible future painted is one we should not go into blindly. Speaking specifically about museums, Elizabeth Merritt, Founding Director of the Center for the Future of Museums, adds a challenge to public historians. "Working together we can help create a healthy, stable society in which every person has the leisure and ability to enjoy what museums have to offer."

What about the challenges?

While digital resources can create access by allowing one to read newspapers stored in a basement a country away or see markings on a vase only visible from one inch away, one still must have the access to a computer and the knowledge to use it. If we want to be able to teach with these resources, public historians must be committed to working towards a society where access to technology is not limited by one's class, race, or gender. Cohen and Rosenweig urge historians not to leave the issue of access "...to the technologists, legislators, and media companies, or even just to our colleagues in libraries and archives." (Introduction)

There is also the concern of translation. Cohen and Rosenweig note Gertrude Himmelfarb's dissent on the new technology. "The Internet does not distinguish between the true and the false, the important and the trivial, the enduring and the ephemeral....Every source appearing on the screen has the same weight and credibility as every other." (Introduction) Virginia Heffernan, in "Haunted Mouses," poses the concern that personal information added to the internet creates neither cohesive memory or tangible history. "Today's new methods of making and sharing digital images have not allowed us to see things more clearly....Rather, they've introduced new kinds of visual and auditory static." Heffernan makes a follow up comment, however, that offers a possible "in" for public historians determined to make this information relevant. "The Internet's greatest production might in fact be just this beguiling static, unpredictable bytes of sound and light that fly around in cyberspace until someone interprets them." Interpretation. That's part of what we do, right? Cohen and Rosenweig's book can be a resource here, too. The chapters of their book walk historians through how they might personally use digital resources, specifically the internet, to teach and interpret history.

The AHA has also weighed in on helping historians use both digital media and digital history. The May 2009 issue of Perspectives on History provided the forum, "Intersections: History and New Media," a collection of articles on topics from teaching and research to public history challenges to information about blogs.

The response from both academic and public historians as to how all historians can use the internet and other digital media is perhaps the most important tool we all have to hand as it both explains new tools and suggests ways they can help us better use older, more familiar ones. It also suggests ways said new tools may help to further blur the line between the academy and the community, refocusing us all on our ultimate goal - the study of change over time and the dissemination of that information to others for the betterment of the whole.

How Does One Remember - Commodity and Empathy

2009-11-15T22:42:00.000-05:00

commodity ~ empathy ~ memory ~ history ~ sensuous ~ cognitive ~ agency ~ distance ~ structure ~ rupture ~ vision ~ perception ~ action ~ feeling ~ pain ~ cost

Elie Weisel asked, "How does one remember?" Alison Landsberg has answered specifically from our vantage point of a society infused with, and in many ways defined by, mass culture. In her book, Prosthetic Memory: The Transformation of American Remembrance in the Age of Mass Culture, Lansberg adds to the historiographic record of the study of memory by examining how specific mass culture tools - film, books, television, comic books, experiential museums - have been used to instill memories of specific cultural events - immigration, slavery, the Holocaust - in those who did not live through the experiences themselves.

I am at a loss. Cognitively, I can see Landsberg's theory and argument, understand how they fit into the historiographic record of studies on memory, and even respect how she bridges memory study with social history questions of class and race. I follow the logic. But I cannot see through her eyes to share the memories because I do not share with her any of the points of entry. While I know of every source she uses, I have not lived through - watched, read, visited - any of them. Yes, I've walked through the room while Blade Runner and Total Recall have blared out of the television. I remember when Roots aired as a mini-series. The volume containing Philip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is upstairs on a shelf. I've read Morrison, but not Beloved; Butler but not Kindred. While I have the means to experience this "new form of memory largely made possible by the commodification of mass culture" I have not braved the experience of sitting through the experience that is Schindler's List nor had the opportunity to visit the Holocaust Museum. I have not lived through the specific experiential and meaningful contact that she posits might allow me to "see differently," and through sensual, not cognitive experiences, enter a "transferential space" where I can perceive another's experience to the point of creating personal pain.

However. I think she's onto something. The ability to pay to physically partake in an experience that stimulates our senses through a technologically possible medium. The rupture of one's one comfort or experience or timeline as a mechanism for being able to see through someone else's eyes or walk through another's experience. The human ability to be transported through empathy to creation of a memory. And the possibility for social action or change because of that assumed - or prosthetic - memory. Yes, I can see that. I don't yet possess it. I cannot draw the personal analogy to her specific examples. As Jay Winter says in his essay, "The Generation of Memory: Reflections on the "Memory Boom" in Contemporary Historical Studies", I haven't experienced the trauma. Or going back to Landsberg, paid the cost. However. While I do not feel, I do think.

Her work supports thoughts we've had this fall that comfort, while good for tourism, doesn't support the social agenda of public history. That if through discomfort our perspective can be shifted to a point where divisions of "other" are dissolved through the sharing of memory, then there is hope for political and social action that can further erode boundaries and create understanding. We've already on the path. We've gone from using film to propagate nationalist concepts of "American" sameness in the 1920s to educating - and experiences - the horrors that have occurred when nations erase differences. We have, one could say, the technology. Now to use share that technology with more and more people, widening the base of those who share the memories and choose to take the subsequent actions.

Everyday Living

2009-11-08T19:49:00.000-05:00

One of our Managing History readings this week was the November 12, 2007 New York Times article, "Auctioning the Old West to Help a City in the East" by Eric O'Keefe. The article highlighted auctions held to sell more than 800 objects purchased by Harrisburg, PA Mayor Stephen R. Reed for the purpose of establishing a National Museum of the Old West. Instead, the items were sold to raise funds to help balance the city's deficit budget. A quote from a Western memorabilia expert about the mayor's collection jumped out at me. "The mayor's vision of the Old West was incredible. He bought pots and pans, cans of evaporated milk, and coffee tins, things for everyday living. He wanted the whole picture, not just the highlights."

The collection of readings for this week are diverse. In addition to the NYTimes article we read two articles from The Public Historian, the journal of the National Council on Public History. "The End of History Museums: What's Plan B?" by Cary Carson and "Geographies of Displacement: Latina/os, Oral History, and The Politics of Gentrification in San Francisco's Mission District" by Nancy Raquel Mirabal.

Carson asks if "history museums, and historic house museums in particular" are in a "nosedive to oblivion." His article looks at attendance at cultural organizations as a whole over the last thirty years, what may and may not have attributed to declining interest in museums, and the industry's response to perceived and real decreases in attendance. He highlights both what has worked in the past, what has not, and what is working now.

I appreciate Carson shaking his finger at public historians, urging us to move away from the temptation to raise museum revenue by hosting weddings and cocktail events, relegating history to "sideshow" status. (p. 15). He also chastises us to remember that attendance cannot be the sole measure of a healthy museum. In these statements, he raises the topic we've discussed regularly in class this fall. The public historian's obligation to teach history. "We must never forget that fundamentally we are history teachers. If our institutions of lifelong learning are not teaching history, or if we are teaching to ever-smaller numbers of learners, then those are the problems we need to tackle and solve." (p.15)

Also of immense value is Carson urging us to consider how the generations currently visiting museums learn and get excited about learning. He specifically challenges current arguments that one must instill trust (can we translate this as comfort?). "Trust is not the issue. What is, is the ability of museums to make effective connections with the way people today have become accustomed to engaging in the learning process...how today's learners actually prefer to organize information and put it together to make meaning." (p. 17)

What do today's visitors to museums want? "To be transported back in time...to meet ordinary people to whom they can relate." They don't want to hear about the past or see a display about it. They want to live it by relating directly to historical figures. They want everyday living and the whole picture, and they want to "live it - feel it - experience it." (p. 18)

The individuals and families in Mirabal's focus group aren't museum visitors who want to experience history firsthand; they are a class of people whose history was dislocated and erased by the gentrification of the Mission District of San Francisco during the dot-com boom of the late 1980s, early 2000s. Mirabal's article relays the findings of a student-driven oral history project started in 1999 designed to investigate "the reasons for the economic and political changes in the Mission District." (p. 9) While I knew of gentrification as a concept, I'll admit to having been in the only category of folk who assumed or were taught that gentrification is "an organic, natural, and even random process, shaped by an uncontrollable market economy." (p. 16) Mirabal builds a solid case, using individual voices and empirical research, to show that the Mission District gentrification was a "calculated process designed to benefit developers, real estate companies, speculators, and investors." Not to mention politicians or city planners who wish to change the commercial and ethnic complexion of a neighborhood from "bad" to "good." (p. 16)

What does an essay on gentrification of a working class neighborhood - even a really good essay - have to do with public history? Because part of the success of gentrification is erasing the neighborhood that existed previously and imposing a new persona in its place. Mirabal uses concrete examples such as the whitewashing (read destruction) of (city sanctioned and national landmark credited) murals in order to make space for logos of new dot-com companies now in residence in buildings that used to house Latino families to represent what one interviewee described as "taking out our culture." (p. 23) Equally alarming is her tale of historical markers scattered through the neighborhood now. "The prevailing thought is that memorials based on a constructed past prevent erasure and allow for a collective remembering of a neighborhood, people, and community that no longer exists. I don't buy it. Because in the end, whose memories are the ones that we are allowed to remember, whose memories are the ones officially on display? Who decides how we remember and why?" (p. 30)

While Mirabal isn't shaking her finger in frustration - and hope - at public historians specifically, I hear her nonetheless. We must remember that the presentation of history requires deciding whose memories to preserve and choosing to whom you focus the telling. To tie back to last week's discussion, when we are studying history with the goal of interpreting it, we must also remember the context within which such markers were made. Mirabal's oral history helps preserve that context by recording voices of the people who were displaced. To use another example, we can look back at my childhood friends, the New York State Historical markers. To understand those markers in context, we need to look at who chose which, or whose, history to share, what the state of the nation and the world was when the text was written, and who the State of New York thought would be reading those blue and yellow metal signs.

Absolutely everyday life of everyday people can be shared, in new and technologically brilliant ways, with Generation X,Y,and Z. In order to ethically do so however, we as historians need to capture the history of everyday people and also remember to ask hard, pointed questions of the preserved history to determine whose lives might not have made the cut into the historical record.

The 21st Century House Museum, Or, Love and Politics

2009-11-01T21:50:00.000-05:00

Looking Forward

I may be privileged in the next year to be part of researching the history of a specific family and creating interpretation for the house in which they lived. The readings for this week's Managing History class are critical building blocks as I begin to think about a house museum of the 21st Century. Partially, because they are defining works in the field. Largely because they speak about - some to, some against - themes I know to be critical to running an ideological organization. Love and politics.

Backstory

The professional hat I am training to wear is that of historian. Another hat in my professional closet is fundraiser. Early in my career I was gifted with the opportunity to work for the undergraduate college of a medium-sized research university. This college had a curriculum based on a very simple, yet fundamental premise. "Students learn best when they love what they study." This modus operandi resonated with my belief in "heartstring" fundraising. People philanthropically support that which they love or about which they feel passionately. Viable nonprofit organizations are built around a well-defined, well-articulated core purpose. Successful fundraising occurs when one matches individual passions with community visions. Idealistic? Yes. Feasible? Yes. Messy? Absolutely. About 97% of the time. Why is matching people with purposes messy? Because making a match relevant requires passion. To make it real requires politics. Involving politics moves you from the passions of a few to the processes of the many. Holding on to what you love, or protecting what someone else loves, can be very challenging when dealing with hierarchies of authority, rules, and regulations.

Interpretation

Definition: An educational activity which aims to reveal meanings and relationships through the use of original objects, by firsthand experience, and by illustrative media, rather than to simply communicate factual information." (p. 33)

Excerpt: "If you love the thing you interpret, and love the people who come to enjoy it, you need commit nothing to memory. For, if you love the thing, you not only have taken the pains to understand it to the limit of your capacity, but you also feel its special beauty in the general richness of life's beauty." (p. 126)

Freeman Tilden was a writer who dedicated half of his life to exploring how staff at national and state parks interacted with the public. In Interpreting Our Heritage, his book specifically on interpretation, he presents six principles of interpretation which he then sums up to be one - love. I think Mr. Tilden would understand my approach of heartstring fundraising, and we could have a wonderful walk in the woods discussing the topic.

Williamsburg's Social History Grade

The New Social History in an Old Museum, is Richard Handler and Eric Gable's critique from the 1990s of Colonial Williamsburg's implementation of the new social history movement started in the 1970s. In short, they felt the museum had failed and were very blunt is saying so in their final chapter, "The Bottom Line." Handler and Gable would likely scoff at my mindset, call it naive, and cite an example from their book of a duped donor whose money was shifted to fund another project, one that achieved no goals and fulfilled no one's desires. Handler and Gable would speak to me of the politics of funding and the hierarchies of management and warn me that trying to relate unbiased history in a museum setting is as much a mythical beast as fair and honest fundraising.

Domesticating History

Where Freeman Tilden may be my newest prophet, Patricia West may well be my new hero. Her book, Domesticating HIstory: The Political Origins of America's House Museums is phenomenal, for many, mostly related, reasons. She grounds the history of America's house museum firmly in the historiographic record, explaining how four different house museums were specifically products of the political and social cultures of their time. Of very specific interest to me (and my project) she uses the lens of public history to trace historical changes in "the nature of women's relationship to the public sphere." (p. 39) I am completely fascinated by especially her first two chapters and the histories of how women stood and spoke in the public sphere, manipulating politics and public opinion to save specific homes and the carefully crafted, mythic versions of stories of American heroes and heroines.

Bound By Time and Place

On interpretation, at the end of her book Wise states, "Above all, the history of American historic house museums demonstrates their missions, far from being neutral and far from meriting the status of inviolability, were manufactured out of human needs bound by time and place." (p. 162) Human needs. Passion. Love. Bound by time and place. Politics. Messy? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely. Why? Because finding the story, discovering the history behind the story, and sharing the story is my passion. And, as Tilden, Wise, Handler and Graber all say in very different ways and arenas, passion and politics are two sides of the same coin.

Preservation: Independence Hall

2009-10-26T06:46:00.000-04:00

Diana Lea has written, "The strongest initial impetus for preservation in America was the new country's conscious effort to memorialize the heroes of the Revolutionary War. One of the first buildings to be preserved as a shrine to the Revolution was Philadelphia's Old State House, later called Independence Hall." (Stipe, ed., A Richer Heritage, p. 1)

Do you know why the Old State House was picked first? The Marquis de Lafayette wished to see it.

A few weeks ago I had the honor of attending the panel discussion, Public History: Making 18th-Century Life Relevant to 21st-Century Lives, presented as part of the 2009 annual meeting of the East-Central American Society for Eighteenth Century Studies hosted by Lehigh University. One of the panelists was Diane Windham Shaw, Director of Special Collections & Archives at Lafayette College, who spoke on "Retooling an 18th Century Hero for the 21st: A New Look at the Marquis de Lafayette."

The Marquis de Lafayette was a hero of the American Revolution, a protege of George Washington, and one of the young country's greatest fans. In 1824-25, the Marquis visited his adopted home, touring the country on his "Farewell Tour." Cities in America outdid themselves competing to offering him the best welcome. As Lafayette had voiced an interest in seeing the site where the Declaration of Independence was signed, the city of Philadelphia scurried to clean and refurbish the somewhat neglected building, bringing the Old State House to a condition worthy of being viewed by a man then held in extremely high regard by most Americans.

A few related links: press release for another Shaw lecture on Lafayette's Final Tour, Lafayette College's web site about the Marquis, a NPS document on Independence Hall.

Lived Reality

2009-10-25T21:59:00.000-04:00

The syllabus for my Managing History class lists this week's discussion topic as "Preservation Politics." Professor Seth Bruggeman joked that he chose the terminology because he liked the alliteration. Alliterative allegations aside, preservation is politics. Individuals may chose to actively preserve a location or concept or object because they love it. Preservation as a movement and a component of our society exists because of laws, policies, and court rulings. The means and the ends are connected. Diane Lea, in the intro to A Richer Heritage: Historic Preservation in the Twenty-First Century tells us, "Historic preservation has flowered and endured in the United States because the very concept incorporates some of this nation's most profoundly defining ideals. The concept of preservation is built on a finely wrought and sustained balance between respect for private rights on one hand and a concern for the larger community on the other."

Historically, fights for private rights have often been battles for private comforts. Cathy Stanton, in her ethnographic study of public historians The Lowell Experiment: Public History in a Postindustrial City, explores, and questions, the balance reached in Lowell when park rangers take visitors "beyond public historical space and into the lived reality of the city." Stanton's work explores many of the concerns of the larger Lowell community and the push-pull within both historians and visitors to reconcile realities of modern Lowell with their internal, middle class comfort levels.

Stanton goes beyond and behind the scenes of historic preservation and education efforts in Lowell, Massachusetts to examine the perspectives, needs, and expectations through which individuals craft their realities within a postindustrial society. By placing the ethnic backgrounds, class status, political opinions, and reasons for interest in Lowell of the public historians who work at Lowell, the visitors who take the Park Service tours, and herself within the context of a postmodern society, she exposes us to concepts not necessarily taught on the tour. (A few of these are Lowell's continued existence as an immigrant city that struggles with high poverty and unemployment levels, the dynamics of a community with clear local/outsider identities, and her contribution to discussions of levels of comfort within historic-tourism contexts.) White, middle class visitors and historians, posits Stanton, are seeking to connect with working class and ethnic roots while reassuring themselves of the safety of their own position in society and culture. Furthermore, public historians are concerned with the negative societal effects of capitalism, frustrated about how to balance discussing historic fact and modern realities without encroaching on comfort levels, and somewhat unaware of their own place as benefactors of a postmodern society via their employment in the creation of culture. Is Stanton's concern that middle class needs for internal comfort mask the needs of the remaining members of an urban community relevant outside of Lowell?

I recently received my first copy of Preservation, the magazine of the National Trust for Historic Preservation. (It happens to be the September/October 2009 issue.) Flipping through the pages, one finds an article on the first four-year academic program teaching the hands-on skills of preservation, highlights of preservation successes, and pages of tourism ads for historic destinations. There's no discussion of economic concerns or urban worries. Instead, there's information on a career path similar to those discussed by Stanton, with pictures of white, mostly male participants.

Preservation is a fascinating magazine and has been a hit with everyone in my house, read cover to cover by all three adults and even perused by the ten year old. Said adults do, however, exactly fit the demographic Stanton discovered at Lowell. We are white, educated beyond the high school level, interested in history, and employed in postmodern service professions. Like many of Stanton's subjects, we are able to point to members of our families making the move from wage to professional labor within the last two generations. Two of us are also representative of the "twilight of ethnicity," being several generations away from a clear connection to one specific ethnic heritage. Reading Preservation makes me excited that we're saving building and skills and long to see these places myself. It does not upset my comfort level or raise my curiosity about how my desire for preservation may affect the lives of others. This isn't overly surprising. Discomfort doesn't sell magazines, or memberships to cultural organizations. Having stopped to think about it and look for it, I am a bit surprised that there isn't any (obvious) reference to political legislation or court concerns. Is all quiet on the preservation front or does political intrigue not sell subscriptions, either?

Stanton's book is a critical read for anyone interested in pursuing public history as a career or interested in social history of the 20th century. Lea's article in a crisp, concise summary of the preservation movement in America, an excellent background for anyone who appreciates the phenomenon but may not know its history.

Introducing: Places to Visit

2009-10-24T10:18:00.001-04:00

One of my hopes for this blog is to create a welcoming, inquisitive environment where "arm chair tourists" can join me on my path. Some locations will be ones I've been lucky enough to visit personally; others will have been discovered in my readings and studies. Stay tuned!

Thinking Versus Feeling Good

2009-10-19T07:44:00.001-04:00

*blink* The sheer amount of thought-provoking and curiosity-peaking information presented in this week's "Managing History" readings has me tempted to issue a self-challenge to write a blog-a-day for a month. I've been alternately making notes about historical detail I didn't know and Googling referenced initiatives, people, exhibits, museums, and books. I've set up two new Bookmarks folder - [Public] Historians and Teaching History. Most gratifyingly, I feel vindicated. While I have learned something from every set of readings for both classes this fall, no other set has engaged me as this set has. This is reassuring as the material is on the nitty gritty of public history - the controversies and ethics playing out recently in the field. That I am inhaling the material, asking questions, and excited, tells me two things. One, I'm on the right path. Two, those creating discourse about the challenges for public historians are on the the right path.

The first correct path is likely simple and obvious. Responding emotionally and critically when hearing first hand from voices in the field about what public history is right now tells me I've picked the right career. The second speaks to a recurring theme in the reading - the need for the presentation of history to generate contemplation and discourse not (only) trigger positive thinking. In short, encountering history should make you think and question, not simply feel good.

The readings are: Roger D. Launis' article,"American Memory, Culture Wars, and the Challenge of Presenting Science and Technology in a National Museum" and Slavery and Public History: The Tough Stuff of American Memory," edited by James Oliver Horton and Lois E. Horton.

The main goal, which is achieved, of Slavery and Public History is to demonstrate the necessity of including education and discussion of slavery in the general American discourse. These articles dug me several layers deeper into the issues and challenges historians face when sharing history with today's public. I simultaneously gained context about hot topics in the last 20 years ago concerning the presentation of history, especially touchy subjects, and was more solidly grounded in the background of American slavery. Discussion from a modern view point about how intertwined American slavery is within the development of race definitions and relations in American and also the defining of class structure is timely as my social history of Early America class has been investigating the same topic but from the lens of an early time period.

One set of thoughts triggered by both readings circle back to the article by Amy Tyson discussed two weeks ago about comfort levels within interpretations (by both those learning and those teaching.) The concept of emotional response to the topic of slavery cannot be ignored. Memory, myth, and history of slavery are as shaped by emotion as are our personal responses when encountering the topic today. Launius references allowing history to be "fragmented and personal." I was struck by this language. Fragmentation is seldom allowed a positive connotation these days. In Launius' usage, fragmentation doesn't weaken history, it adds strength by allowing for multiple voices. American history is complex and complicated. Emotionally, it can be easier to gloss over the uncomfortable parts and tell just part of the story. At times in our history we've done just that. Even in this decade Americans still do so.

The readings also give voice to the folks in the trenches fighting to juggle public interest with educated awareness. Dedicated, passionate people are working very hard to bring the historical perspectives on slavery, race, class, and gender gained within the academy in the last few decades into the common understanding. Despite resistance, opportunities to talk and think about slavery and the definition of America are slowly increasing. We are learning to talk about painful, conflicting facts. We are learning to distinguish between fact, memory, and history. I leave these readings (for now) convinced that memory, history, and the interplay and friction between the two are the stuff from which public historian challenges are made today and will continue to be made in the foreseeable future.

Relevance and Subjectivities

2009-10-11T17:57:00.000-04:00

The Annual Meeting of the East-Central American Society for Eighteenth Century Studies was held this past weekend in Bethlehem, PA. Jan Ballard, Executive Director at Jacobsburg Historical Society, chaired a panel on, "Public History: Making 18th-Century Life Relevant to 21st-Century Lives." The speakers and topics were:

Rusty Baker, Membership & Marketing Coordinator, PFMHO, "Statewide Funding Issues in Historical Organizations"
Bernard Fishman, Executive Director, Rhode Island Historical Society, "The John Brown House in Providence, RI: Bringing Your Historic Home From Saint, To Sinner, To Historian"
Diane Windham Shaw, Director, Special Collections & Archives, Lafayette College, "Retooling an 18th Century Hero for the 21st: A New Look at the Marquis de Lafayette"

The theme of relevance was mentioned in all three presentations. Whether in the form of a personal connection to a place or a concept, an appeal to one's sense of nationalism, a topic of interest in popular culture (youth, celebrity, and mentorship were all mentioned), or the existence of beauty, something about or within a museum must resonate with a visitor if a connection is to be created. I was reminded of the set of questions raised in the last couple of weeks in my Managing History Class. Does the object define the experience or does what the visitor brings to the object define the experience?

I have just finished reading Mary Kelly's book, Learning to Stand and Speak: Women, Education and Public Life in America's Republic. Her argument is that a subset of white elite and middle class women living during the Early Republic and Antebellum eras in America were able, due to the possession of economic, social, and cultural capital, to attend female seminaries and academies which offered courses similar and often identical to those offered at male colleges. This education provided access to ideologies and ideas which these women questioned, debated, and internalized, creating personal subjectivities. These subjectivities, or inner senses of self and mission, contained a dedication to learning and a mandate to present what was learned in social settings for the purpose of stimulating further discussion and debate.

When working on understanding the concept of subjectivities, I thought of the phrase, "Everything within us that we bring with us to the table." My next thought was, "Ought we be speaking terms of subjectivities when we discuss the relationship between seeker and museum? Does understanding what one's own subjectivities are affect the relevance we attach to an object or concept? Can we as historians make assumptions about other's subjectivities in order to present a topic accurately and in a relevant manner? Should historians take individual's perspectives and opinions into consideration? How do you decide whom to target? Do you change the object if you change your assumptions about other's perception of it?

Going back to relevance as key within a museum setting for creating a sense of ownership or sparking curiosity or in simply attracting visitors. What is our obligation as public historians to create that relevance? Where on the spectrum do we need to fall between defining that relevance ourselves and in trying to predict cultural subjectivities and shaping the relevance to match? I don't have answers yet. But I think the questions are fascinating.

From Moravians to Objects

2009-10-08T21:30:00.000-04:00

I love the sudden right turns one can take while during research. There are no wrong destinations. Just not enough room in the filing cabinet for all the finds.

Today I was looking for information on the 19th C Moravian communities in Pennsylvania, specifically in terms of social history. What I found was a new public history book. (See what happens when I get lost on the UPenn Press website?)

Do Museums Still Need Objects by Steven Conn is so new that my copy is still sitting in the virtual shopping cart. Publication date is October 2009 - one assumes they're working on it.

A subsequent search resulted in a new-to-me public history publication, Origins, and Cohn's blog.

More than Just Muppets

2009-10-07T09:44:00.002-04:00

"Jim Henson's Fantastic World is a collaboration of The Jim Henson Legacy and the Smithsonian Traveling Exhibition Service (SITES) was designed by Karen Falk, curator of the exhibit and archivist at The Jim Henson Company, to comprehensively showcase the breadth of Jim Henson's art and creativity. The exhibit was viewed at the James A. Michener Art Museum in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. The tour began September 2007 and runs through October 2010.

The exhibit aims to preserve not only the physical results of Henson's creativity, but the process of creativity itself. Quotes from Henson and his works are painted on the walls. Henson speaks directly to the audience about his ideals and goals in a video history compiled from various interviews through the years. Beloved and well-known popular culture icons Kermit, Bert, Ernie, and Mahna Mahna are there in muppet form and share space with the sketches that captured Henson's original conceptualizations."

If you have ever been curious about Jim Henson as an artist, you will find answers in this exhibit. The staff at the James A. Michener Art Museum in Doylestown, PA has done a great job connecting the SITES exhibit with its own mission and creatively networked with other Bucks county arts organizations. In addition to an extensive offering of in-house art classes, other cultural offerings available this fall range from a Jazz concert celebrating the music of Sesame Street to a collaborative film series highlighting Henson films to a variety of programs offered at the Bucks County Free Library, located just across the courtyard.

What does a traveling exhibit classified as an art display and offered in an art museum teach us about history? In the case of The Fantastical World of Jim Henson, one's sense of social and cultural history is expanded, in many cases built upon personal memory. Fascinating in their own right as art, the objects document not just Henson's story, but for anyone of Generation X they also tell our own, triggering memory and generating an emotional response. Those of the Sesame Street generation are likely to leave the screening room humming, “The King of Eight.” The memory is triggered again, and one's knowledge expanded, when one views the storyboard and biographical background for that specific skit later on in the exhibit.

Jim Henson's Muppets are without question a part of my cultural context. I am one of the early members of the Sesame Street generation. Evening television as a young child consisted of half an hour of The Muppet Show and half an hour of M*A*S*H. (I've suspected for years that there's a lot of explanation there for who I am, but that's likely another post.) I learned counting and language skills from the Sesame Street. I also learned its okay to be a bit odd or not perfectly funny, or to believe in a dream. I also had my first glance at myriad performers - Harry Belafonte, Candice Bergen, Danny Kaye, and Vincent Price among so very many. From Sesame Street to the Muppet Show to the Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, I traveled the public path of Henson's creative journey. At the Michener, I saw some of the not-so-public journey.

Fantastical World is fascinating to me as a historian because it places my friends in context. Henson and his ideologies are introduced in person via a documentary-style video. A large poster-style timeline chronicles biographical data and career highlights. A nice touch is a corresponding poster-style homage to Henson's supporting cast – his family, friends, and colleagues whom together are woven into what we have come to know as the Henson experience.

Yes, I saw actual Muppets and learned more about their history. I also learned more about my larger history and asked questions about where we are now. Cookie Monster started as Wheel Steeler in IBM commercial in the late sixties - IBM had commercials in the late sixties? One of Henson's proposals for a television show had a hand-drawn cover. I was struck that today, if it wasn't computer generated, it might go straight to the slush pile. This wonderfully witty, personal, piece of functional art. What might we be losing in the technological age?

Jim Henson was a shy man who imagined fantastical creatures and shared them with the rest of us. I am grateful to The Jim Henson Legacy and the Smithsonian for offering the opportunity to glimpse behind the curtain, or under the floor in some cases, at the genius behind the characters we, and Henson, loved and made a part of our own histories.

The Attic

2009-10-04T22:09:00.000-04:00

A bit of surfing for information on Amy M Tyson - the author of one of the texts for our Managing History discussion tomorrow on museums - led me to The Attic, the virtual home of the Department of Museum Studies' research students at the University of Leicester in the UK. Definitely something to explore as time allows!

Leisure and Hospitality Industry Job Opening – Historian

2009-10-04T22:01:00.000-04:00

“What?” My exclamation startled the dog. “The United States' Bureau of Labor Statistics classifies museum and historic site staff as working in the leisure and hospitality industry?” Tobias, who is not up-to-date on current museum culture, decided I was truly talking to myself (again) and not him, and went back to sleep. I continued to harangue a (mostly) empty room.

“Interpreters work within the service industry?” My tone hovered between incredulous and scoffing. “But, that would mean pleasing the customer comes first. Before historical accuracy. Before preservation concerns. Before financial stability.” As I heard the phrases echo in the room, I thought of the Grinch, confused as to how Christmas came without the trappings. (“It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags.”) Luckily for me, I didn't have to puzzle for three hours with grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow. Taken in context within this week's Managing History readings on the general topic of museums, while the industry label is still a bit jarring, how we as a culture arrived at such a classifications makes sense. Raises questions and concerns, but fits within an understandable progression.

In two-score speeches and essays written between 1990 and 2000 and collected in his book, Making Museums Matter, Stephen E. Weil emphatically documents that since World War II, the foci of museums have shifted from collection and preservation to education and public service. One driving force in this transformation was the shift in the third sector from being “charitable” to being “not-for-profit” - in simple, to being held accountable and measurable for some sort of a bottom line. The public pays for museums, public or private, in one form or another. Museums are therefore not only answerable to the community, they have an obligation to be of service to the community and the individuals within it.

In her article, Crafting emotional comfort: interpreting the painful past at living history museums in the new economy, Amy M Tyson goes a step further to suggest that two specific living history museums have gone beyond simple accountability of civic engagement to selling a product in a service sector. The focus then becomes keeping the customer happy, up to and including adapting historical interpretation in ways that cue off of and protect visitors', and interpreters', levels of comfort.

How does the 2008 Annual Report for the American Association of Museums (AAM) relate to Weil's theories? I argue the choice of the themes presented proves his point and indicates how the trends he identified have progressed in the decade following his comments. Weil indicated that part of the mission of the museum sector in the 90s must be to identify the kinds of public service it not only could, but should provide. The AAM's identification of museums as providers of lifelong learning, sources of civic pride, and invaluable community assets are in line with concepts Weil already envisioned. While his language was not as precise as the AAM's in seeing museums as an economic engine, he wasn't far from that definition. Serving as a therapeutic oasis and a social services provider go a bit further than Weil envisioned, I believe, when he discussed the emotional responses of the public.

For all of the excellent grounding, forward thinking, and deliberate inciting of thought generated by Weil's book, the unasked question echoing in the room is, “What about the history?” While somewhat understandable from a man whose vast experience was based in art museums, one wishes Weil had asked this question in his reviews of where museums are and where they should go. Tyson observed a deliberate choice to give customer comfort pride of place before opportunity to generate discussion about controversies in our historical time line. What questions do we ask next? Is the presentation of historical content a social mandate? What difference does history make in the difference made by museums? While we search for answers to these questions and continue to formulate others, those of us who work on the boundary between history and public satisfaction will very likely find ourselves reminding others in the larger sector to “not forget the history!”

Not Your Father's Museum Intership

2009-10-02T09:45:00.000-04:00

While I would love to own a bright yellow Volkswagon Bug, my bright orange Element provides more storage space. This posting on philaculture.org does make me additionally wistful at the lack of a Bug. Yes, I would drive through Phila with a giant bug on top of my car - what a creative, fun method of civic engagement!

Organization: American Philosophical Society

Job Categories:

Volunteer & Intern, Philadelphia County (PA), Artist Development & Residencies, Museums

The APS Museum is seeking an intern who owns or leases a VW Beetle hard-top. The intern will drive the vehicle in conjunction with a 2-week (October 12-24, 2009) art performance titled The Voyage of the Beetle and will work with an experienced performance artist, who will stage guerilla performances throughout Philadelphia. Vehicle should be properly insured with valid tags. Availability of up to 8 hours per day during the performance run. Must be willing to have lightweight giant beetle affixed to roof of car during performances (will not damage car -attached via removable roof rack). Generous stipend and reimbursement for fuel/parking costs acquired during performances.

To Apply:

Send letter of interest and resume to jdrozdek@amphilsoc.org

Deadline: 10/05/2009

Posted: 09/04/2009 Expires: 10/05/2009

Stops Along My Path - NYS Historical Markers

2009-09-27T21:52:00.002-04:00

One of my earliest glimpses into the past was through the window of my parents' car. Whether in the green Buick station wagon or the red Rabbit hatchback, my seat in the car was the right rear one, and that view was my entrance to worlds present, past, and imaginary. The car window provided one of the best forms of car-bound entertainment in those days before hand-held technology. One of my favorite past times was to look for historical markers. While on regular trips around our small community in New York's Finger Lakes region or annual summer treks to my grandparents' home in Maine, sitting in the car was a trip into the past, if I paid attention. One didn't have to leave town to find the blue and gold metal signs. Geneva had many, from the one right down the road from our house marking the Iroquois site of Kanadesaga to the one marking the site for the Geneva Medical College, alma mater of Elizabeth Blackwell. The markers seemed to be everywhere when I was a child. Perhaps that was due to New York State's dedication to the practice. Perhaps I noticed because I was looking.

It seems I'm not the only one who enjoys looking. While doing research for this post, in addition to finding a search engine on the New York State Museum site listing markers, I discovered a page on Waymarking for NYS Historical Markers. According the website's FAQ, "Waymarking is a way to mark unique locations on the planet and give them a voice." Categories are as varied as "All Things Star Wars" to "Ginormous Everyday Objects." The specific use of Waymarking to collect historic markers allows not only for a scavenger hunt method of visiting historical sites but also provides the ability to visit them from one's armchair.

To go back to a question we raised alongside the Memorial Arch at Valley Forge - "Is this history?" Waymarking is not history - but its a fun way to use technology to gather representations or reminders of historical events and places. One could say its the next step in the evolution of preserving a memory. The marker installed in the early 20th century by the State of New York tagged a location as being a specific coordinate in space and time where something we consider momentous happened, a location we believe marks a specific change over time. The electronic waymarker is simply the 21st Century extension of such a marker. Luckily for those of use who still appreciate and enjoy reminders that we can see and touch, a waymarker doesn't replace the blue and gold metal signpost. It augments that object by extending its reach into cyperspace.

Waymarking may also serve as a tool to connect the more technology-embedded youth of today to three dimensional objects. When I bundle my family into my bright orange Element next summer for a trek to Wisconsin to visit my parents, perhaps we'll use Waymarker.com to track historic markers across five states, using the iPhone to encourage us to look out the window in search of history instead of playing video games. After all, one can always play PacMan or watch videos when its too dark to see the landscape.

Managing History Readings for September 21, 2009

2009-09-20T22:37:00.001-04:00

I am intrigued by a question in this week's texts. “How does an individual use history to define one's self?”

According to the readings, individuals do not seek out history to understand someone else's life; they do so to understand their own. Moreover, they view the historical fact or object or story through their own cultural lenses and interpret it with personal senses of self. While there is an emotional response, the ultimate result is personal validation, or an “existential” authenticity.

Authenticity is a term historians use – are guilty of over using – when validating the representation of a time, person, or place. I will admit to having cavalierly bandied about the term, most often in reference to the (proper) representation of a time period through (appropriate) use of external props that are justified by documented knowledge. However, the survey and sociological survey studied suggest that authenticity is internal, not external; that the use of a 1930 teacup isn't emotionally satisfying because its use places us in another period of time, but because our internalizations of that period of time is one more layer in our definition of who we are, how we fit, where we come from, and what we want to be.

Perhaps the next logical question to be asked by public historians requires flipping the observation of an exhibit or object from,“What does this object say of the past” to “How can this object help define someone's future?”

Texts referenced include: Roy Rosenzweig and David Thelen, The Presence of the Past (New York: Columbia University Press, 2000) and Hyounggon Kim and Tazin Jamal, "Touristic Quest for Existential Authenticity" in Annals of Tourism Research, Vol. 34, No. 1, pp. 181-201, 2007.

Interesting Find

2009-09-13T23:38:00.000-04:00

My journey to Temple includes a significant commute. While I can read for the hour I'm on the train in each direction, the hour in the car can feel like wasted time intellectually. On my "to do list" was to find academically relevant material to listen to during the drive. While visiting the web site for the Library Company of Philadelphia recently, I found that they have several programs saved in podcast format.

Thoughts on Readings for 9/14/09 Class Discussion

2009-09-13T23:17:00.000-04:00

Managing History readings for this week are: Ian Tyrrell's, “Historians in Public," Cathy Stanton's intro to “The Lowell Experiment,” and Carl Becker's presidential address to the AHA.

These readings are a foundation for understanding our chosen field – its history, key figures, affect on culture, morality, economics, etc. They also start us – very solidly – thinking about the obligations inherent in our choice to serve as historians within the public sphere.

Tyrrell's work provides an immense amount of critical information. If as historians we espouse studying our past in order to understand our future, Tyrrell's book provides data that can help us avoid the hypocrisy of not knowing our own past. (It's one thing to join the American Historical Association (AHA). Its another to realize that it has existed since the late 1800s and to examine its role in shaping the field of history.)

Becker's piece challenges us, as it did Tyrrell, to question how, in 1931, he was representative of historians' views of the public and of their obligation to the public and how he was revolutionary.

Stanton gives us another analysis of the rise of public history. While she and Tyrrell draw on similar sources, the tones are different, perhaps because they have different reasons for presenting the information. Tyrrell is looking backward, documenting where we've been in order to explore the role the teaching of history plays. Stanton is setting a current example of that role in context.

My Initial Foray to Valley Forge

2009-09-11T02:59:00.006-04:00

As a relatively new Pennsylvanian, there are many PA historic sites, formal and informal, that I have never seen. On Labor Day I ventured to the National Historic Park at Valley Forge. A deliberate "blue highway" route was chose for the trip down. Another time I would like to stop and take photos of some of the wonderful early American architecture along that path, especially Route 100 south of Allentown.

I have to confess. I didn't do my homework. Valley Forge is a much larger parcel of land than I expected. (I was imagining closer to the scale of Fort Stanwix, not Gettysburg.) The couple of hours I had allocated were no where near enough time to view the entire park, even quickly. So, after leaving the Visitor's Center and vowing to come back another day with a picnic lunch and bicycles, I climbed back into the car and drove the 8-10 mile loop, noting the different areas from my window. Two stops were made. One at the National Memorial Arch and another at the Muhlenberg Brigade.

At the National Memorial Arch, my attention was caught by a plaque discussing the restoration of the arch stating that, "During 1996-1997 The Freemasons of Pennsylvania contributed more than one million five thousand dollars necessary to preserve the Arch to its original grandeur." The question that sprang immediately to mind is, "Who pays for history?" I muttered it loud enough that a friend heard me and retorted with his own question, "Is this history?" Further ruminations, and work this evening on my blog, have highlighted that I need to do some solid thinking, and likely historiographical research, into the semantic difference (and opinions) on the difference between "history" and "historical." Is Valley Forge history or historical? Is the National Memorial Arch historical? What about memorials in general? Are they historical when they are built or only when they reach some magic age themselves?

At the Muhlenberg Brigade we had time to look into some of the reproductions of the 12x12 cabins Washington had ordered built to house the troops. We then headed over to hear a member of the park service speak on the construction of the encampment and the daily routine of the soldiers. [more pictures] All in all, a good first taste of the park. I look forward to going back.

A Walk About Jacobsburg

2009-09-11T01:57:00.001-04:00

Three months ago to the day, I went to Jacobsburg Historical Society to welcome the executive director as a new member of the Nazareth Club of Rotary International, for which I currently serve as vice-president. While I've lived 2.2 miles away from Jacobsburg and the Boulton Historic Site for almost two years, I had not visited. Jacobsburg, along with the Moravian Historical Society and the general topics of Moravian and Nazareth history, were areas I had, honestly, actively avoided. All were of extreme interest to me. That was the problem. I was afraid that if I even briefly explored the local history I would fall into it, not to resurface, and place actual priorities at risk.

To reach Boulton one drives up to the edge of the woods, stopping just shy of the Bushkill Creek. I pulled into the circular drive in front of John Joseph Henry's Federal style estate house, stepped out of my Element, and turned to face the Old Henry Homestead across the road, which now houses the Museum of the Pennsylvania Longrifle. In truth, I stepped back into my element, an element I left fifteen years ago when the museum education program at the College of William and Mary was cancelled. The world of tangible history.

My intent is for Jacobsburg to be an important part of my journey the next two years and a frequent topic of conversation here. To introduce one of my newest important places to you, I took a short walk around some of the grounds last Friday. Pictorial evidence can be found here. (All photos are my own. Captions are based on the extent of my knowledge at this time and considerable help from the current press kit for the Society. Any errors are my own and any commentary is not on behalf of the Jacobsburg Historical Society.)

The Wynds of History

2009-09-04T01:43:00.000-04:00

A wynd is a path. An alley, a narrow lane. Sometimes defined as one that connects two houses. To have plural wynds, therefore, is to have more than one path, or more than one way. These courses may have very little to do with each other beyond linking similar destinations. Or, they may be so similar that to discern the difference takes personal observation or a careful review of first hand experience. The topic of this blog is the study and interpretation of history, as filtered through my experiences and observations.

What do the wynds of history connect? More specifically, how and with what are those pathways created? As an amateur historian, I have been fascinated by the use of personal stories and objects to define and share a specific moment or place in time with a public audience. As a professional in the nonprofit field, I am immensely dedicated to the preservation of institutional memory and with matching the passions of individuals with the visions of service organizations.

While an undergraduate at the College of Wooster and William Smith College, I studied how the written word reflects how society has shaped a specific individual, the author, and how in turn the same book can affect and shape society. Fifteen years after earning my B.A. in history, I am stepping back onto the path of professional study as a graduate student in the public history program at Temple University. Current curiosities include questions such as how do you teach the history of an object that changed the course of our country but currently isn't considered politically correct? Do you bring the observer to an object (in a physical location) or the object to the observer (through technology and media)? How do you share 19th Century concepts of gender with 21st Century children, in a way that dignifies both generation's mores?

At this juncture, I identify with the definition of public history as “history in motion.” The method or process by which the discipline of history is shared with others, specifically, the general audience of the American people. Public history is on one hand a living curiosity cabinet, a seemingly unending organized jumble of historical items, ideas, and locations and on the other hand it is the methods and tools by which that history is shared – preservation, education, interpretation. I also view public history method through which I can serve my community, a critical civic enrichment.

As I begin this new leg of my journey, I find myself intrigued by the dichotomy between the houses of academic and public history. Is there a path that leads from one to the other or are the two disciplines adjacent, with occasional intersections? How much does the perceived breach within the community of historians affect our ability to articulate current understandings of the past, to each other, and to the public? How do those interpretations connect? Do they connect? How does the public's perception and internalization of those concepts direct future study, or funding, or interest?

During the Fall 2009 semester, this blog will follow my course work in the class “Managing History: An Introduction to Public History” taught by Dr. Seth Bruggeman. You'll find my responses to the readings and reports on our classes' collaborations with the Wagner Free Institute of Science of Philadelphia. I hope to also share observations on my readings in early U.S. social history as taught by Dr. Jonathan Wells as well as those from my adventures in public history in my own back yard.

Why “Wynds?”

2009-09-04T01:05:00.001-04:00

I wasn't regularly called by a diminutive of my name until my social group in college shortened "Lyndsey" to "Lynds." My friend, Sus, took the nickname one step further to an endearment - "Wynds." Usually used in the statement, "Oh, Wynds." (For the full effect, insert appropriate pause after the "Oh" and linger on the long i sound.) Somewhere down the line I learned that "wynds" is a legitimate word and works wonderfully on the Scrabble board.

The phrase "a narrow lane or alley" brings to my mind images of the lanes of Philadelphia, which neither technology nor time have fundamentally changed. Of rutted dirt roads along open fields in the British countryside. Of the alleys that still exist where I live in the semi-rural, semi-urban Lehigh Valley where garages sit directly on the one-car-wide roadways and long yards lead up to porch-covered backs of houses.

I like being a wynd. A functional, off-the-beaten path, no-nonsense, sometimes quaint, sometimes rough, object with a purpose. A connection between two houses, or arguments, or points of view.

I wrote the above definition in early 2008 as the intro to a conceptualized public blog in which I might analyze what happens when I stumble along my path or meet an obstacle coming towards me on that one-car-wide thoroughfare. Thoughts on how to fit my experiences into a larger context. I view history as a process by which a specific is perceived by an audience, set within a context, and then retold. You are welcome to join me on my journey of interpreting, analyzing, and refining that process.