A Hired Historian (or) Other People's Archives

I couldn't be more excited to be back in Washington D.C. The city, though somewhat familiar, still a lot of surprises. When Emily and I arrived at the Mall a few minutes before an appointment, we stopped at the National Museum of Natural History and looked at a Giant Squid specimen. Later that afternoon I was flipping through the Andrew Jackson Papers at the Library of Congress. How many people do you think have done those two things in an afternoon? Later that day I skipped the gym and sat around eating popcorn to celebrate my accomplishments.

My first couple of days of research in Washington are on behalf of another historian, currently living in California. This makes me feel a bit like a hired hit-man, except with less killing and more historical documents. At the very least, it serves as a nice warm-up for my own work, which I hope to start next week.

Working in unfamiliar archives can be an adventure. Rules vary from archive to archive - but regulations tend to trend in a particular directions. When I started working in archives only a few years ago, people looked at me like I was from Pluto when I asked if I could use a camera to photograph documents. Now, both the Library of Congress and the National Archives ask visiting researchers if they have a camera with them to photograph documents. Some archives allow you to take a box of documents off of your cart, others ask that you only remove a folder at a time. But these are mostly inconsequential differences.

Another challenge of being a hired historian is that you can't really explain to archivists the nature of the project. Explaining my own dissertation to a willing audience is no problem (I say 'willing' because I have, admittedly, been guilty of waxing poetic about my research to audiences that would rather discuss - say - earthworms). But explaining someone else's research as it progresses can be more of a challenge. In this case, I was looking for documents related to military history - which isn't exactly my specialty.

And to make my inadequacy, my father sent me an e-mail this evening about a research trip he did on my behalf in Minnesota. The man stopped at a historical society and read newspapers in GERMAN because he thought he might be able to find some more information on an incident that is of interest to me. And you know what? The man absolutely nailed it. He found an article on microfilm, can I just say this again, in GERMAN. This dude took his last German class in the 1960s and the man walks into a research library and reads Gothic print Deutsche in his free time.

An archive starts to feel like home when you begin to know the people. You run into the same researchers day after day. You get to know the archivists. The nerdy intern requests to be your friend on facebook. You suggest a book to another historian, you goof off with the archivists, and if you're really nice, the interns will let you play soccer with them.

Sure, it is was an experience working with documents at two of the largest research centers in the world. I look forward to when my own research takes me there. But for now, I find the experience of working in smaller archives to be more satisfying on a personal level. Intellectually, I'd argue that working in small archives has made me a stronger historian. I certainly wouldn't argue that archivists at major institutions aren't helpful - quite the contrary, they are often well-trained and extremely helpful. When you're a familiar face, however, archivists tend to go out of their way to make sure you get what you need.

It seems as though every year I need to re-teach myself how to read handwriting from the 19th century. Despite the fact that it is the same language that I pretend to speak everyday, it feels like I'm working on a foreign tongue. And it doesn't even come with those fun Rosetta Stone practice games.

There is both a certain level of excitement and a level of trepidation in moving to a new place and starting a new job. This is certainly true in my case, anyway. I'm pining for a return to my archival home at the Smithsonian.

Diving Back In

 I return to the archives this summer after devoting a semester to learning how to teach American history.  Admittedly, a part of me is apprehensive to dive back into my project, having grown comfortable in my routine.  And yet, I love research and writing.  The unmistakeable smell of archival documents will no doubt trigger some of the more sensitive synapses in my brain.  Unfortunately, my passion for my research is not yet reflective in my scholarly writing, which is still a work in progress.   

UC Berkeley's Department of History has asked us to complete a pre-dissertation prospectus. Our goal for this summer is sort of analogous to accepting a promise ring.  After this summer we will all be somewhat like a high school cheerleaders; we won't quite be engaged to our projects, but will certainly take a step in that direction.  

My planned dissertation, Making the Modern Museum in the United States: Art, Anthropology and the Desire to Understand Human Culture, intends to examine the history of anthropology and art museums in America past their foundations up to the post-Second World War Era. This summer, I will be conducting research at the National Anthropological Archives, a branch of the Smithsonian Institution.  The overarching theme of my research is to examine how the operation of institutions influence and shape ideas.  

This summer, I will specifically be looking at an archival collection documenting the transfer of human skeletal remains from the U.S. Army Medical Museum to the Smithsonian.  I have, for some time, been interested in the process of building museums collections and, moreover, deciding what types of collections belong where.  Does a Moche statue belong in an art museum or a natural history museum?  While these questions are pertinent to the process of founding museums, I am more interested in how museums continued these debates after they were already established. 

I am particularly sensitive to the idea of constructing collections of human remains in museums, having worked with these types of collections first-hand in several museums.  This summer, I don't anticipate any need to work with the remains themselves, instead attempting to understand the historical process of their collection and care over time.  

The collection could serve as a jumping off point for my dissertation.  The U.S. Army Medical Museum, in attempting to build an encyclopedic collection of the various kinds of battle injuries experienced by troops, starting collecting human skeletal remains around the time of the Civil War.  The institution eventually requested that Army field surgeons send skeletal remains from around the globe.  The museum was especially interested in obtaining examples of human remains from the Native Americans of the American West.   

After building a vast collection of human skeletal remains, the Army Medical Museum grew to be more interested in soft tissue samples.  The collection of skeletal remains was transferred to the Smithsonian between 1898 and 1904.  This summer, I will be studying how this process took place.  What was the rhetoric surrounding the transfer?  Who made these decisions and why?  How did the operation of these institutions shape the type of research that was conducted?  What type of legacy do these remains possess?

For more about my work, I'll point readers in the direction of my webstite, click here.