We are excited to announce that the Dorchester Reporter recently published an article about an upcoming exhibit curated by public history student Sarah K. Black. You can find it here.
Sarah’s exhibit, which is entitled, “An Extraordinary Look into Ordinary Lives: Uncovering Dorchester’s Industrial School for Girls,” explores the first decades of Dorchester’s Industrial School for Girls, touching on daily life at the school, gender roles, class dynamics, and race relations. It will also feature dozens of artifacts recovered during the archaeological dig performed on the site in 2015.
The opening reception will take place at the Massachusetts State Archives & Commonwealth Museum on Thursday, May 10th.
Flyer for Sarah K. Black’s upcoming exhibit, “An Extraordinary Look at Ordinary Lives”
Streetcar, Lowell National Historical Park (photo by David Wilson, Oak Park, IL)
I spent my fall 2018 semester working as a curatorial intern directly under Laurel Racine, Chief of Cultural Resources at Lowell National Historical Park (LNHP). Maintained and operated by the National Park Service and spanning a full 142-acres, the park “interprets and preserves significant historical and cultural resources from the 19th-century American Industrial Revolution.” More than just a conglomerate of former mill buildings, and a locks and canal system, the Park is a hub for education and a major player in Lowell’s evolving cultural landscape and economic revitalization.
I came to LNHP in search of experience in exhibit planning and execution. I also wanted to gain a general understanding of daily museum operations since I had never worked in a cultural institution. Knowing this, Laurel brought me in to assist two volunteers who were in the beginning stages of developing a temporary exhibit. Branding Lowell: A History of Local Design was the brainchild of Mark Van Der Hyde, a graphic designer by trade and an extremely enthusiastic and dedicated volunteer. Combining his love for both logos and Lowell, he envisioned an exhibit that centered on how the city, as well as its local businesses and organizations, have designed their own symbols and how this imagery has reflected Lowell’s collective and evolving identity since its founding.
I knew that I would walk away with more experience than I had going in, but I never expected my internship to be as valuable as it was. Not only did I grow and improve my skillset in several areas including exhibitions, collections management, and museum operations, but the opportunity also offered me a chance to prove to myself that I can step outside academia and into the public sphere of the historical discipline.
Mark had conceived of a panel exhibit with the help of Tony Sampas, Senior Digital Documentation and Records Management Specialist for UMass Lowell’s O’Leary Library— and a fellow logo enthusiast. My task—shifting the two-dimensional exhibit into a three-dimensional one—required me to research, select, and interpret artifacts to create a storyline. I spent many long hours searching through the park’s databases and experimenting with storyboards, all the while trying to find objects that both fit Mark’s narrative and illumniated stories that did not appear in the panel text. But the artifacts themselves are undeniably crucial in this history. Early sketches of the logos reveal the process of branding. Branded goods and memorabilia evidenced how these symbols were disseminated to and absorbed by consumers. Taken together, these themes demonstrate just how pervasive symbolism and branding is throughout our culture.
Early mock-up of UMass Lowell’s hockey team logo. Including sketches from the artists offers audiences a glimpse into the process behind forming a logo. Circa 1994. (On loan to LNHP from artist Brian Trainor; photograph by author)
After just a few weeks on the job, I realized just how dynamic and unpredictable building an exhibit can be. With each team meeting, Branding Lowell grew in both content and thematic scope, and with it, so did my responsibilities. Hoping to put my training in public history theory and practice to good use, I volunteered to explore new content, draft panels, and introduce interactive components. Although these additional tasks certainly opened the door to practical experience in interpretation and exhibit planning, I found the collaborative component of the project to be the most valuable. Each member of our four-person team brought something unique to the table, be it curatorial experience, graphic design skills, or an extensive knowledge of the history of Lowell. Our exhibit team meetings were opportunities to share progress and problems; they were honest and productive sessions where we brainstormed, proposed solutions, and compromised. Collaborations, especially when they involve community members, are never a guaranteed success, so I am tremendously grateful to have worked alongside professionals who were both eager to share ideas and open to constructive criticism. In the end, our unique perspectives and expertise combined to ensure Branding Lowell is as content-rich, aesthetically pleasing, and engaging as possible.
Branding Lowell will open on March 24, 2018 and although my formal internship has concluded, I intend to see the project through to its completion. We still have a great deal to do, including case layouts and object mounts, text editing, and installation. I look forward to increasing my skillset even further.
The Branding Lowell exhibit will feature an array of nineteenth-century business cards. This one is from 1890. (LNHP collection; photograph by author)
The internship requirement for the public history program had haunted me since the evening I received my acceptance letter. I came into the program with no experience in a museum (or even a comparable institution), and feared that my lack of experience in the field would ultimately cast me as the inexperienced underdog in both academic and professional networks. But this is exactly why our time as interns is so essential. No matter how little or how much experience a student has, there are always new skills to learn, most of which have to develop outside of the classroom. I was fortunate to be mentored by a museum professional with tremendous experience in the field and a desire to create a positive and productive environment. Laurel not only took me under her wing to teach me about collections management and museum operations, but she also granted me a great deal of freedom with the exhibit content and development. At the end of the day, I will leave my internship with something even more valuable than an improved skill set: the knowledge that I left my mark on a truly dynamic and collaborative project, one that tells the story of a city’s identity in a unique and interesting way. As an aspiring public historian, I can think of no place better suited for professional and personal growth than the Lowell National Historical Park.
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.
Around the year 1650, nearly forty years before the infamous Salem witch trials took place, Alice Lake was accused of practicing witchcraft. A native of Dorchester, MA, Lake stunned the community by claiming that she saw an apparition in the form of her recently deceased infant. As word of Lake’s claim spread, she was officially charged with being a witch and a trial ensued. The court delivered a guilty verdict and she was sent to the gallows.
Woodcut of witches being hanged at gallows originally printed in Sir George Mackenzie, The laws and customes of Scotland (1678). Retrieved from “Bristol Radical History Group.”
Rev. John Hale included some details of Alice’s final moments in his Modest Inquiry Into the Nature of Witchcraft (1702). She refused to confess to witchcraft but accepted her conviction as God’s punishment for her sinful nature. She admitted to partaking in fornication and attempted to abort the resulting fetus to “conceal her sin and shame.”[1]
Cover of Rev. John Hale’s treatise that described the moments before Alice’s execution in his MODEST INQUIRY (1702). Hale is best known for his support of the Salem witch trials.
Hale’s commentary on the incident led me to my research questions: May there have been a connection between Lake’s witchcraft charges and her promiscuity? More importantly, what societal conditions would prompt such a neurotic degree of shame and guilt in a woman years after her fornication incident?
With a very limited source base, only parts of Alice’s story could be reconstructed but through these fragments and reflections I found a broader story to tell. I argue that Alice accepted her impending death as punishment for her crimes because she lived in a society where sexuality was extremely restrictive. Her final moments also reveal a theme in colonial New England witchcraft that scholars may have overlooked or disregarded: sexuality. The erotic component of witchcraft was instrumental in blurring the barrier between “woman” and “witch.” By examining the relationship between sexuality and witchcraft, we can better understand the components of sorcery in Puritan ideology, sexuality in New England society, and why women such as Alice may have solidified their identities as “Handmaidens of the Devil.”[2]
Sarah K. Black sharing her research about Alice Lake–a woman accused of witchcraft in Dorchester, ca. 1650–to a spellbound crowd at Dorchester Historical Society.
On February 19, I had the privilege of sharing my research on Alice Lake at the Dorchester Historical Society. The research was an experience in itself but the opportunity to present at the public forum proved to be the most fruitful. It was my first public presentation in almost a year and by far the largest crowd that I had ever spoken in front of. My professors and peers were extremely supportive and the audience members were very receptive. To move beyond creating history and into actually doing history was an exhilarating moment. Overall, the experience pushed me to step outside my comfort zone, rejuvenated my enthusiasm for the public history program, and reminded me why I chose this career path in the first place.
I knew that calling attention to Dorchester’s only documented witch might generate some interest in our Dorchester history initiative but I was not expecting an audience of about seventy!
Audience at Dorchester Historical Society, Feb. 19, 2017. Many were Dorchester residents eager to hear about their local history.
Although I was extremely nervous about giving the talk, the support of my peers and professors—along with the warm reception from the audience—washed away any anxiety I had. I remain very grateful for the chance to share my research with so many intrigued individuals, especially since the event opened up several more opportunities for me to tell Alice’s story. I was invited by UMass professor Maryann Brink to talk with her freshmen students about my research process and how I applied historical thinking and analysis. I was also contacted by a representative of the Boston Public Library; I will be giving the presentation again on April 24th at the Adams Street Branch.
This experience has given me so much more than I could have hoped for in my first semester at UMass. I strengthened my skillset, met many new and wonderful people, and built up my network—all while researching a topic that I love and learning the importance of local heritage in the process!
Notes
[1] John Hale, “A Modest Inquiry the Nature of Witchcraft,” Enquiry, in Narratives of the Witchcraft Cases, 1648-1706, ed. Charles Lincoln Burr (New York: Barnes & Noble Inc., 1946), 408-409, (hereafter cited as Hale, “A Modest Enquiry”).
[2] Cotton Mather, Ornaments for the Daughters of Zion (Cambridge, MA: S.G. & B.G., 1692), quoted in Carol F. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman: Witchcraft in Colonial New England (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1987), xix.
