Leisure and Hospitality Industry Job Opening – Historian

“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!”

The Wynds of History

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.