Public History studies – Page 2 – Public History at UMass Boston

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Putting Public History Into Practice: The Industrial School for Girls

By: Sarah K. Black

When I entered the public history graduate program at UMass Boston, my experience in the field of history was strictly academic. One can only imagine how anxious I felt when I received the syllabus for HST 625, Interpreting History in Public: Approaches to Public History Practice. Under the instruction of Professor Jane Becker and in partnership with Joe Bagley at the Boston City Archaeology Program, my colleagues and I were tasked with uncovering the history of those who lived and worked at the Dorchester Industrial School for Girls (ISFG) during the 1860s and delivering those stories to the public in a way that was both appealing and accessible.

Map depicting the Dorchester Industrial School for Girls, 1889.

The ISFG was established in 1853 by several women who sought to educate and train destitute young girls in the field of domestic service. Once deemed ready by the staff, the girls would be placed in homes to work as servants. Our class was required to connect our biographical sketches with artifacts retrieved during Bagley’s excavation of the site in Summer 2015, and construct a website to ensure our interpretations could reach the widest possible audience. I was extremely intimidated by the project because, unlike writing a paper, we were working with a client (Bagley) and producing a tangible product. Who knew that the ISFG project would become the most exciting, informative, and meaningful experience of my entire academic career.

There were two main phases of the project—the first of which required each of us to conduct extensive biographical research on one staff member and one student. But how do we construct narratives for women who spent much of their lives on the fringes of society? And what does the middle ground of meticulous research and writing for a popular audience look like? These were just a few of the many questions we had to grapple with when we began producing these histories. We had to learn how to effectively weave facts and relevant context into a story that was both informative and accurate, as well as include elements that readers could connect with.

Record of Margaret Hasson, an ISFG student who later became “inmate #13430” at Bridgewater Almshouse. Courtesy of the Massachusetts State Archives. Photograph by author.

Like several of my classmates, the beginning of my research was defined by countless hours working with genealogy sites and other online resources. Once we made it through the initial frustration of uncovering subjects so elusive in the historical record, we found that each had a unique and captivating story to tell. Some narratives featured immersive details of mischief, international travel, and death, while others concluded with more questions than they started with.

While conducting my research, I was fortunate enough to travel to the American Baptist Historical Society, located at Mercer University in Atlanta. There I found a collection of letters written by the ISFG matron, Mary S. Daüble, while she served as a missionary in India. Whether working as a missionary in India or a matron at multiple institutions, Mary devoted her life to education and religious teachings. After some intensive genealogical investigation, I was able to shed light on Daüble’s life and experiences. I even located a blueprint of her home and added her to my own family tree on ancestry.com.

Blueprint of Mary Daüble and her husband’s house. Courtesy of the American Baptist Historical Society. Photograph by author.

The story of Margaret (Maggie) Hasson was quite different. An Irish orphan who entered the institution at just 8 years old, Maggie found herself placed as a domestic servant in 10 different homes between 1860 and 1864. Mischievous to say the least, she ran away several times and even eloped with an African American Civil War soldier. After a police officer located and returned Hasson to the Industrial School for Girls, the school sent her to the Bridgewater Almshouse.

The second phase of the project was centered on group work. Our class was divided into three groups: website design and introduction, social media and marketing, and annotated transcription the ISFG’s 1860 annual report. As a member of the introduction group, I was responsible for contributing to the overall design of the website and drafting the text for the site’s landing pages.

Screen shot of ISFG website.

Once again, we were met with challenges: How do we create an interface that is both informative yet engaging? How can we stand out against the plethora of webpages that characterize the digital age in which we live? Just as it was difficult to condense hours of biographical research into 1000-word narratives, our team struggled with determining what information was essential for each of the site’s main pages. These sections had to be brief enough to capture and maintain the reader’s interest, but also paint the fullest possible picture of the school, the archaeological dig, and the project.

This experience gave my peers and me the opportunity to develop and improve skills in biographical research and historical interpretation in a digital age. We also learned the value of collaboration—not only with one another, but also with our professor, our client, and other cultural institutions. And finally, the project prompted us to retrieve voices that may have otherwise remained silent, gave us the chance to tell history from the bottom-up, and helped us to see the extraordinary value in uncovering the “ordinary.” The ISFG project proved to be the perfect introduction to turning public history theory into practice.

Sarah K. Black is earning her M.A. in History with a specialization in Public History. She currently also works as an editorial assistant for The New England Quarterly.

Figure 2: Intern hard at work! Image taken by Janice Williams (2016).

Learning from the Clothes that Haverhill Wore: A Semester at the Haverhill Historical Society

February 16, 2017 / Heidi Gengenbach / 1 Comment

By Rachel Sherman

During the Fall 2016 semester, I worked as an intern in both curatorship and collections management at the Haverhill Historical Society under Janice Williams. The Haverhill Historical Society serves as the historical center for the area of Greater Haverhill and the Merrimack Valley (Massachusetts). Occupying “The Buttonwoods” mansion originally bequeathed to the historical society in 1903, the Haverhill Historical Society collects and exhibits items relating to the area’s culture and history. These items once belonged to Haverhill residents and include numerous textiles ranging from quilts to costumes.

Figure 1: The John Ward House, owned by the Haverhill Historical Society. This house currently resides on the Buttonwoods Property. Picture taken by Rachel Sherman (2016).

From the beginning of my graduate career, I knew that I wanted to gain experience in a small historical institution like the Haverhill Historical Society. They needed the help. Now more than ever, historical societies need to be more organized, user friendly, and publicly accessible in order to stay relevant. Unfortunately, many of these organizations are run by small staff, infrequent volunteers, and the occasional intern. Despite this reality, the Haverhill Historical Society strives towards making themselves more accessible. This determination and dedication attracted me to intern at the Haverhill Historical Society.

My internship contributed the Haverhill Historical Society and their mission to modernize. They have been working on a ten-year long project to digitally catalog their collections, working to connect the items to Haverhill history. My job was to use their cataloging system, PastPerfect, to assess the condition of and digitally catalog a certain number of hanging costumes. I was also tasked with creating an informational “Intern’s Pick List.” The list includes costumes I felt were important to understanding Haverhill’s history and will be added to the Haverhill Historical Society’s website alongside the Curator’s Pick List.

Every historical institution, whether they are a small historical society or a large museum, has its own process for cataloging items; however, almost all institutions require the same general skills in approaching their items. From my experience, I present a small list of what I learned while interning at the Haverhill Historical Society.

Figure 3: Ninteenth century men’s robe, donated by the F.O. Raymond Estate. Fred O. Raymond Sr. lived and raised his family in Haverhill, serving as the Deputy Sheriff of Essex County from 1870 until his death in 1901. Object owned by the Haverhill Historical Society. Picture taken by Rachel Sherman (2016).

Always check the pockets: This is meant both figuratively and literally. During my investigation into a nineteenth century robe, I conducted my usual condition assessment, placed a new accession number tag, and proceeded to bring the costume back to its home. As I held the costume, I felt something in the left pocket I did not notice before. I carefully looked to see what was inside the pocket, and found a little envelope from the Haverhill Historical Society in the early twentieth century that also included written names. This fun little discovery helped me identify the history and the provenance of the robe. From

then on I checked every pocket I encountered. Look at every angle of what you are working on; you never know what you are going to find in the most obscure places.

Dig a little deeper: Researching can lead someone down a rabbit hole, and through this internship I went down several! One such rabbit hole involved genealogical work. My first day of working with the collection, I cataloged a wedding dress belonging to an Augusta Merryman of Maine donated by a Mrs. Daniel Hunt of Haverhill. Curious about the relation between the two women, I turned to census records to see if the women shared a family. After working backwards through fifty years of census records, I connected the dots and found that Augusta Merryman (whose first name was actually Lydia) was Mrs. Daniel Hunt’s aunt. Therefore it helps to dig a little deeper into the records to find connections to the past.

Use every available resource: See everyone and everything as a resource. While cataloging a men’s suit, I came across the name William C. Glines. Upon researching the name, I quickly learned that Haverhill housed more than one William C. Glines. After a period of frustration, I decided to ask the curator for assistance. Meanwhile, Mary Ann, a fellow volunteer on the textile collection, overheard our conversation and chimed in about her own object. It turned out that not only did she know the Glines family, but that she finished working on an object donated by a William Cheney Glines, aka William C. Glines. From then on, Mary Ann continued to be a valuable resource for both understanding some of the Haverhill families I encountered in my research and in understanding fashion jargon.

Step outside of your comfort zone: Try something new. This internship allowed me to work hands-on with a collection that needed some TLC. From taking on a subject I knew little about, I learned not only collections management techniques, but also skills uncommon with a history-based internship. Through this internship, I learned basic sewing. Before, I could barely thread a needle, and now I can at least sew a label onto a costume. I advise anyone to step out of her comfort zone; you never know what you will learn.

Figure 2: Intern hard at work! Image taken by Janice Williams (2016).

Apply what you already know: This item should come to no surprise. While examining an early nineteenth century dress coat, the gilded brass buttons stood out among the navy blue wool exterior. Upon looking at the buttons, I noticed that each one featured a peculiar bald eagle. Although I do not know the history of buttons, I did know from previous undergraduate research that the eagle shared a similar motif to the furniture of the American Classical Style (1820s-1840s). This similarity aided in narrowing down the age of the buttons—the mid to late 1830s. It may seem silly, but I used my knowledge of aesthetics, compared buttons to furniture, and it paid off.

No matter your internship, whether it is working with a collection or other, the skills you learn from an internship apply to more than just the task at hand. From reading about my own experience, you, the reader, will hopefully gain a better understanding of what you may encounter on your own internship journey.

An aerial photograph of Columbia Point along Boston Harbor in Dorchester, MA.

A Reflection of Columbia Point’s Participatory Exhibit

November 8, 2015 / Heidi Gengenbach / 1 Comment

By: Paige E. Kinder

Last spring, I had the privilege of taking a practicum class that challenged me and strengthened me as a public historian. “Making a History of Columbia Point: A Participatory Exhibition” was the graduate class I always hoped grad school would provide for me. As a class, we were responsible for creating a participatory pop-up exhibit, working with the local community around University of Massachusetts Boston—a community who lived, worked, and loved Columbia Point. I’ll admit, it was intimidating at the start, but the class left a lasting impression on me.

The syllabus portrayed a project that seemed simple enough; however, once we were completely submerged in research, class meetings, and archival visits, I felt that I had bitten off more than I could chew. There were five students working on the project with me and we all came to the project with different backgrounds, interests, work ethics, and experience. Nevertheless, we all dove in together. We spent the beginning of the semester researching a wide range of aspects about Columbia Point’s history, like its geography, housing complexes, school systems, and community activists, just to name a few. We examined oral interviews of residents, read papers from the Boston Housing Authority, collected newspaper clippings, and finally managed to develop a solid foundation from which we created the exhibit.

Creating an exhibition always seemed easy enough. I felt after working in museums that it mostly followed the same pattern; do research, go through the collection and pull necessary artifacts, write labels, install, and enjoy. I will never again see exhibit creation in the same way again. After doing our initial research, we were tasked with creating a timeline of important moments in Columbia Point’s history, generating a collection, and locating sites on an interactive map. Judith Marshall, another student in class, and I were chosen as the collections team, which I was really excited about until I realized we had no pre-established collection. How were we supposed to curate artifacts when they did not exist? Judith and I worked tirelessly to locate articles, photographs, and objects that would lend themselves to conversations of Columbia Point’s history. We hoped that the people who came to our event would want to tell us their impression of these items, but also share with us stories of their own. My mind slowly shifted from seeing objects as the center of exhibits to seeing the social stories and memories that stemmed from objects as the focal points. I had never thought about exhibits in that way before, and my perception of what public historians do changed once again.

Our pop-up exhibit took place on May 9, 2015. We had spent weeks creating a timeline, a map, and a collection. We also met and choose participatory elements we wanted to implement alongside our labels to create a way for our visitors to contribute to our findings. The timeline was meant to be altered, so we had post-it notes around the edges and invited visitors to add events—both historical and personal—to our pre-planned events. The collection was definitely not complete. Judith and I found 14 items that we thought represented Columbia Point’s history well, but we knew people could bring us objects we would have never found on our own. We invited our visitors to bring photographs, documents, and items that they wanted to share. Our map worked in the same way. As a class we choose 6 places that we felt were important to the history, but hoped the community would contribute locations as well.

Judith Marshall (right) and I (left) next to our label, inviting visitors to contribute to the exhibit’s collection.

The participatory element of our exhibit was extraordinary, not only for us but for our visitors as well. Museums and exhibits never seem like places that allow you to manipulate labels, and collections, and displays, but for one day the visitors were allowed too, and they took full advantage. It was a slow start, since no one wanted to be the first to contribute, but by the end of our day, different colored post-it notes covered our timeline, over 100 items had been added to our collection, and so many more locations found their way onto the map. The stress I felt early in the semester was a distant memory. I was in my zone. Hearing people talk about the events we researched, meeting people we read about in books, and sharing our own insights with people who lived through these events were moments I will never have again. The class may have been hard, but the feeling of knowing you are on the right path professionally was a well-deserved award at the end of the semester.

After the class ended, I had a hard time thinking of what our work would mean to other people. Would people know this event happened? Would people want to add more things to our collection? Would people see the work we had already done? I approached our instructor a little after the semester ended to see if there was anything more I could do. Thankfully people in the historical field are always looking to help graduate students, and I lucked into working with the University Archives and Special Collections at UMASS Boston to process our collection. Those 100 photographs we collected and all the information we knew about them now had a chance to be available online. I worked all summer long to scan in photos and log information into the school’s database. I was able to see our project from a different level, and it inspired me to take more archival classes and add an archival certificate to my degree.

A class that seemed intimidating, felt impossible, and challenged me became so much more. I know now I want to be a public historian. I want the stresses and challenges of the research, and the delight and excitement in uncovering new artifacts. I want the conversations with the public, and the chance to hear from the community. I also want to explore all aspects of public history, and take more classes out of my comfort zone. I can only hope everyone feels this way when they take their 625 Practicum.

Rundlet May House, a federal-style house in Portsmouth New Hampshire, built in 1807.

Exploring Portsmouth through Craftsmen’s Eyes

November 8, 2015 / Heidi Gengenbach / 0 Comments

By Judith Marshall

I began my master’s degree at UMass Boston with a vague understanding of public history. I knew that it gave me the opportunity to pursue my passion for history outside of the academic world. However, I did not have any real experience doing public history and I was a little uncertain and nervous about my choice. I was quickly immersed into this world, gaining experience not only in public history but also in archives. At UMass I have had the opportunity to attend conferences, volunteer with public history projects, and collaborate with community organizations in course practicums. The most rewarding, however, has been my internship with Historic New England.

This internship has been an invaluable part of my public history education, giving me the ability to gain hands-on experience in the field. In spring 2015, I started my internship at Historic New England, an organization that aims to preserve and interpret New England architecture and material culture. I was eager to start this internship for a couple of reasons. First of all, I value their capacity to use historic houses as a means of interpreting everyday life in the past. Second of all, I appreciate their dedication to making New England’s culture engaging and accessible to the public—both through their historic houses and their wonderful public programs.

My internship project required that I research the men who were involved in building one of Historic New England properties—the Rundlet May House, a 19^th century history home in Portsmouth, New Hampshire—and then write an interpretation proposal based on that research.

Rundlet May House, a federal-style house in Portsmouth New Hampshire, built in 1807.

This project immediately interested me. Traditionally, historic homes have focused on the wealthy families who lived in them. However, recent public history practices have started to change how historic homes interpret regional histories. Some historic institutions have now begun to include the histories of marginalized populations, using the homes to discuss the lived experiences of enslaved people and servants. Researching and interpreting the lives of the men who built the Rundlet May House would be a continuation of this trend to include everyday people in the interpretation of historic homes. Serendipitously, James Rundlet, the merchant that built the house, left a detailed work schedule and account book. These documents offered me an accurate picture of the men involved, the supplies they used, the time it took them, and the wages they received. In other words, I had a fascinating window into the lives of the craftsmen.

After transcribing the schedule and account book, I researched the craftsmen, a challenging task. I knew relatively little about the craftsmen, besides their names and the fact that they were in Portsmouth between 1807 and 1808. This problem was compounded with the fact that so many men in New England had the same name, making the research particularly tricky. For instance, when looking for information about James Folsom, a carpenter who worked on the Rundlet May House in 1807, I found census records that included James Folsom I, II, III, IV, V, and VI. These records were even more difficult to discern when you include the fact that pre-1840 census records only documented the names of the head of the households. All other persons in the household, from a certain age range, were only numerically counted. It became difficult to determine which one of these James Folsoms was the joiner who worked on James Rundlet’s house.

James Folsom from Exeter New Hampshire (note: NOT the James Folsom who worked on the Rundlet May House) posted this message in the newspaper in 1812. Even he was annoyed with having the same name as so many others! “Owing to the frequent mistakes made by there being a number of persons of the name JAMES FOLSOM in this town, the subscriber, son of Benjamin Folsom, late of Newmarket, respectfully requests his friends and others having occasion to direct letters, etc. to him, to call and consider him by his real name. James B. Folsom.” Source: Constitutionalist (Exeter, NH), August 4, 1812. Volume: II, Issue: 7, Page: 1.

The interpretive proposal, at first, felt like uncharted territory. I had some experience with public interpretation, but it was still relatively new to me. This part of my internship became the most rewarding and exciting aspect. Initially, I thought I would plan a house tour that examined each room from a different craftsman’s eyes. In each room I would give a biography about a craftsman and link his work to Rundlet’s house. However I thought that this would be a disjointed tour, with nothing linking the rooms together. I scratched the idea and I started to think about different avenues of interpretation.

During my research, I uncovered a wealth of information about the craftsmen themselves. I discovered that many of them had a robust political life, including some of who were elected municipal officers. I also learned that some were involved with societies such as the New Hampshire Mechanics Association. I wanted to find a way to include all these facets of their lives into my interpretation so I developed a proposal for a walking tour. I thought that a walking tour would be a great way to reveal the craftsmen’s lives to the public. I could discuss not just their work at the Rundlet May House, but also their political activities, the societies they belonged to, and the other houses they helped construct.

The walking tour gave me the opportunity to interpret history spatially instead of just thematically. While it is my instinct to organize historic evidence in thematic terms, so that each story flows smoothly to the next, this kind of narrative form is not logistically possible within the format of a walking tour. The organization of walking tours depends on the geographical location of a site; tour participants would not be happy to walk from one side of Portsmouth to the other just so I that could connect two complementary sites thematically. Looking at interpretation in terms of space meant that I had to reorganize my frame of thinking.

Before I knew it, the semester was over. Yet there was so much more I wanted to do with the tour. After all, I had only created a brief proposal. After discussing it with staff at Historic New England and my mentors at UMass Boston, I have decided to use my proposal as the foundation for my capstone project. This semester I am building on the work I did for my internship, conducting more research on the craftsmen and creating a full tour script. Most excitingly, I will have the opportunity to give a trial run of the tour. I am thrilled to see this project through to the end.

Exploring New Paths And Forging Connections With The Past

September 28, 2015 / Heidi Gengenbach / 0 Comments

By: Danielle Cournoyer

I decided early on while working towards my bachelor’s degree in history that I would go to graduate school. Although, at the time, I had no clear grasp on what my interests were and I had no real idea how to define or describe my ambitions or how I was going to turn them into a career. Then, after a simple Google search, I stumbled upon the National Council on Public History and finally had in front of me, a solid description of the vague career notions I had been chasing throughout my undergraduate career. Public history, the NCPH’s site describes, is the “ways in which history is put to work in the world.” Public Historians work to make “history relevant and useful in the public sphere.” After this discovery I felt inspired. Finally I could articulate my aspirations to reach out and help people learn and appreciate history.

Obtaining a graduate degree in a public history program affords me the critical opportunity to work in history outside of academia. I came to UMass Boston in the fall of 2013 with this career path in mind. My first Public History class, my first graduate class in general, was an introduction to the diverse and wide-ranging field of Public History and over the last two tears I have been able to simultaneously expand and hone in on my specific interests and career goals. This led me to a summer internship at the Nichols House Museum and exploring the ways to help the public make meaningful connections with the past.

Me visiting The Mount, a historic house museum and former home of Edith Wharton (August 2015)

Historic house museums are a unique way to experience the past. These intimate museums offer the chance to tell individual and personal stories in the context of a broader local and national history. The Nichols House Museum provides visitors with a look into nineteenth and twentieth century life Boston as well as sharing the unique story of the home’s last resident, Rose Standish Nichols. Rose, a suffragist, writer, landscape architect, and dedicated pacifist, was passionate about education and considered herself a “champion of global thinking.” She lived during a time when the world was changing at a rapid pace and she left her home as a museum after her death because she believed that experiencing different places, people and ideas could provide anyone with the understanding and insight needed for them to go out and positively influence the world. Today the museum welcomes visitors from all over the world as a means honor Rose’s legacy and to promote international friendship and learning.

During my internship at the Nichols House Museum, I had the opportunity to explore first hand the operations of a small but distinguished historic house museum. I was able to explore my particular interests and gain applied experience in building and shaping museum public and community outreach, to increase attendance and awareness of the museum and its pertinent history. One of the Nichols’ House Museum’s initiatives to connect the house to a more national or global narrative is through their Object of the Month Blog. This blog is also part of the museum’s wider pursuit to bring the museum into the digital age, to connect with their audience and build communities both online and off by sharing the story of one of the many pieces in the Nichols’ family’s collection and revealing its wider historic relevance. I also had the opportunity during my internship to help the museum find its voice online in a ways to increase their audience and make broader connections to the world outside of Beacon Hill through the researching and drafting of a social media policy.

For the Object of the Month Blog I chose to research the museum’s reduced version of “Diana of the Tower,” one of Rose Nichols’ famous sculptor uncle, Augustus Saint-Gaudens’, most successful works. Working on this post allowed me to connect the Nichols family’s story to the wider history of the American artists’ colony and beaux-arts movements of the late 19^th century, as well as Gilded Age New York City and the 1893 World’s Columbian Exhibition. This kind of larger story gives context to the world Rose Nichols’ grew up in and further broadens the scope of what can be learned through a visit to a tangible and seemingly intimate house museum.

Augustus Saint-Gaudens’ “Diana” on the second floor landing at the Nichols House Museum

During my summer at the Nichols House Museum I had the chance to collaborate with the museum’s small but dedicated staff. They have numerous ideas to expand their audience, programs, and funding, as well as ways to reach out and connect with the local community. The staff at the Nichols House Museum are taking part in a wider movement happening the field of Public History where we are beginning to rethink and reinterpret how traditional historic house museums can reach new audiences and remain relevant in today’s technology driven world.

The Nichols House Museum: Object of the Month Blog
August 1, 2015: “Who is Diana of the Tower?”