During my internship at the Florida State Archives, I got to work at the Record Center for a few weeks (and I am actually still working there, still struggling with my internship). One of my tasks there was to study a new series that had been accessioned by the Archives in February 2007, re-box and re-folder all the documents, as well as write the description of the series, and enter the data in re:discovery.
Here is some of the information that I have gathered:
Record Group Number: 000550
Series/Collection Number: .S 2092
Creator: Florida. Dept. of Environmental Protection.
Title, Dates: Everglades study and restoration commission records, 1994-2001.
Amount: 8.3 cubic ft.
Description of the Series:
The Governor's Commission for a Sustainable South Florida was created by Governor Lawton Chiles in 1994 (Executive Order 94-54) to assure a healthy Everglades ecosystem, which could coexist with and be mutually supportive of the South Florida economy. The Commission was formed partly in response to numerous lawsuits, which arose over the ecosystem restoration and was intended to improve consensus and coordination of activities impacting the ecosystem between the private and public sectors. The Commission was headquartered in Coral Gables and was funded by grants administered by the Department of Environmental Protection.
The Commission issued a variety of reports and studies, including a restudy of the 1948 "Central and South Florida Project" which had resulted in a program of drainage and building of canals, levees, and water control structures in the Everglades. The Commission's "Restudy" proposed recommendations to alleviate the damage caused by these activities and to restore the Everglades ecosystem.
The Commission was continued by Executive Orders 95-464 and 97-201. As the Commission was set to expire on June 30, 1999, Governor Jeb Bush signed Executive Order 99-144, establishing the Governor's Commission for the Everglades as the successor agency to the Commission for a Sustainable South Florida and comprised of a similar membership. The Commission was funded from the budgets of the Florida Departments of Environmental Protection, Transportation, Community Affairs, and Agriculture and Consumer Services. The Commission served as an advisory body to the South Florida Ecosystem Restoration Task Force; served as a forum for improving decision-making and public participation in Everglades’s restoration; and evaluated and made recommendations regarding funding and implementation of the Restudy.
In March 2000, the Commission adopted Resolutions 2000-1 and 2000-2 calling for the State of Florida to fully fund the non-federal share of the restoration plan (the "Restudy") and recommending full partnership between the State of Florida and the federal government in implementing the plan. The Governor's Commission for the Everglades continued operating until expiration of EO 99-144 on June 30, 2001.
Summary of the Series’ content:
This series documents the efforts of the Governor's Commission for a Sustainable South Florida, and its successor agency the Governor's Commission for the Everglades, to develop a consensus-based plan for restoration of the Everglades ecosystem. The series includes correspondence with the Governor, legislators, members of Congress, President Bill Clinton, lobbying organizations, and citizens, as well as correspondence between Commission members, discussing issues studied by the Commission and issues raised at Commission meetings. Also included in the series are Commission reports, studies, and amendments, as well as drafts showing development of the reports and studies; Executive Orders establishing or extending the Commission; Commission resolutions; member appointment records; meeting files, including minutes, agendas, and background materials; study and meeting files of the Commission's issue teams and committees; public relations materials such as videos and brochures; and newspaper articles and press releases.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Wallace's "The Virtual Past: Media and History Museums"
Wallace chapter entitled “The Virtual Past: Media and History Museums” is a rather interesting one to look at in retrospect. Indeed, Wallace wrote this piece in 1993, and a lot of things have changed since then in the digital and computerized worlds. Throughout his article, Wallace mostly focuses on the risks inherent to the digital world. He wonders if history computer games or electronic books will be the only way future generations will be connected to historical subjects. He seems to believe that helmet and body sensors will become a very popular technology and will be widely used in museums, for virtual exhibits or such. One of his main concerns is that virtual museums will slowly replace real ones, bringing up the question of artifacts and what will become of them. Wallace is apprehensive that virtual museums will feel more convenient for individuals, who will slowly turn into “couch-potato museumgoers”. Moreover, even though he declares that the use of public places is already slowly disappearing in our societies, Wallace seems worried that the emergence of virtual museums will make matters worse by removing another opportunity people have to leave their house and interact with others. In addition, Wallace also thinks that the internet will maintain a social distinction in the access to culture. Computers, software, and internet connection would be expensive and not everybody could afford such technologies. Even though he interestingly closes his article on a more optimistic note – new technologies might end up bringing new possibilities for learning history in museums – Wallace surely seems preoccupied with those novelties. A twenty-first century reader cannot help but wonder if Wallace painted the devil on the wall from lack of knowledge and experience. If it is certain that new technologies have dramatically reshaped our society, they have not destroyed our cultures. Without saying that computers and internet connections are inexpensive, their prices have been going down and will surely continue to do so. Besides, books have not yet disappeared, just as libraries. Museums are still standing. They actually use the new technologies not to become isolated islands of knowledge for a few elected ones, but to reach out to broader audiences. So far, what Wallace seemed to be hoping for in his conclusion is taking place: the internet has not replaced museums, and new technologies haven’t swallow everything else. They nevertheless have enhanced the world of museums and have erected new bridges between people and museums.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Goodwood visit – just a few random thoughts
After a regular guided tour of Goodwood during our Heritage Bus tour, the “behind the scene” visit of the museum felt like a perfect supplement to understand things better. Indeed, it is one useful thing to learn about the history of the house, its different owners, etc., but it is another interesting aspect to hear about how the museum functions, why things are the way they are, and what projects are waiting in the drawers.
What I learned is that Goodwood is considered to be a small museum, with about two hundred volunteers and six people on staff. Its annual budget is 0.5 million that need to be gathered each year. That budget covers operational expenses only. The visit fees are not enough to cover such a budget, and the additional “income” comes mostly from rentals and fund-raising events, such as the “An Evening under the Oaks” (which just took place I believe; the concept sounds great, but it is still a little too expensive for college students).
Because the money covers only the operational needs of the museum, there are no funds available for any research. Some projects exist though, but they cannot be undertaken right now. For instance, one idea is to study the African Americans that used to work on the plantation or in the house. There is also a project to digitize the collection of photographs that the museum owns and put them online – akin to the Archives’ Florida Memory Project does – but this also requires additional funding and materials.
On the brighter side, the “carriage house” is under construction, and will be able to host events for up to three hundred people – which will eventually increase the number of rentals/events. There is also a project to restore the water tower, even though it is not sure yet what will be done with it.
I truly do love Goodwood, and I am never tired of going back to that place. But I can also understand that not everybody sees it that way, and that once they have been there, they do not really go back. However, it seems that the museum hopes its visitors will come back, over and over again. I guess my greatest curiosity today, is how that would be possible. Except for a few “Goodwood-geeks” (I know there are some around here, and I might even be one of them), what would drive people to come back? The core of the visit is the main house, and it is furnished with a permanent exhibition. There is nothing that really changes x-time per year. Yes, there is that small room on the North side, which hosts different mini-exhibits, but is that enough to bring people back? I do not think so.
Of course, I do not have any answers, just lots of questions. And that is mostly what our second visit to Goodwood brought to my mind.
What I learned is that Goodwood is considered to be a small museum, with about two hundred volunteers and six people on staff. Its annual budget is 0.5 million that need to be gathered each year. That budget covers operational expenses only. The visit fees are not enough to cover such a budget, and the additional “income” comes mostly from rentals and fund-raising events, such as the “An Evening under the Oaks” (which just took place I believe; the concept sounds great, but it is still a little too expensive for college students).
Because the money covers only the operational needs of the museum, there are no funds available for any research. Some projects exist though, but they cannot be undertaken right now. For instance, one idea is to study the African Americans that used to work on the plantation or in the house. There is also a project to digitize the collection of photographs that the museum owns and put them online – akin to the Archives’ Florida Memory Project does – but this also requires additional funding and materials.
On the brighter side, the “carriage house” is under construction, and will be able to host events for up to three hundred people – which will eventually increase the number of rentals/events. There is also a project to restore the water tower, even though it is not sure yet what will be done with it.
I truly do love Goodwood, and I am never tired of going back to that place. But I can also understand that not everybody sees it that way, and that once they have been there, they do not really go back. However, it seems that the museum hopes its visitors will come back, over and over again. I guess my greatest curiosity today, is how that would be possible. Except for a few “Goodwood-geeks” (I know there are some around here, and I might even be one of them), what would drive people to come back? The core of the visit is the main house, and it is furnished with a permanent exhibition. There is nothing that really changes x-time per year. Yes, there is that small room on the North side, which hosts different mini-exhibits, but is that enough to bring people back? I do not think so.
Of course, I do not have any answers, just lots of questions. And that is mostly what our second visit to Goodwood brought to my mind.
“The Other Suburbanites: African American Suburbanization in the North before 1950”, Andrew Wiese
This history of American suburbs has been researched and written about, but mostly as solely a white middle-class phenomenon. In Andrew Wiese’s view, such an approach misses out on a wider population that also has been experiencing life in suburbs in the past decades, people like workers, immigrants or African Americans. Through his article “The Other Suburbanites: African American Suburbanization in the North before 1950”, Wiese attempts to draw another picture; a picture that would take into consideration other communities that have been meaningful in the history of American suburbs. His particular focus is African American suburbs in the North, and his main example for this article is Chagrin Falls Park in Ohio. Wiese not only wants to explain why what has been looked at by white people and academics as “slums”, felt like a community, a home, to its African American inhabitants. He also wants to elaborate on the “motivations and values of early black suburbanites”, while bringing back black suburbanization within the context of American urban history.
To accomplish this, Wiese uses Oral History interviews and inserts them in his article in a very smooth and subtle way. Indeed, He does not quote at length the interviews, or put them in an annex at the end of his work, but he blends them into his writing, using those interviews to exemplify thesis or statements. Secondary literature and other types of primary sources are his basis for research, and then combining it with Oral History makes it more real to the readers, and helps grasp the concepts in a more concrete way. Wiese starts out by giving a context on American suburbs, and then goes on to explain how Chagrin Falls Park got started and started expanding. When he starts describing life in Chagrin Falls Park, what people used to do, how they would live, etc., is the primary use of interviews. Usually, it is children whose parents move to Chagrin Falls Park and recall the way things were. For instance, one lady remembers her father looking for a place with a garden, so they could grow vegetables and raise small livestock. Or he quotes different men to show how commuting was organized. He also uses the example of different families to present how important it was for those African Americans at that time to have a “place of their own”. Having their own house also enabled those people to rent rooms as a source of additional income. One lady and her husband built an addition to their house so they could rent it to people moving in the neighborhood, until their own house was ready. Another couple had three other houses built that they would use for rentals. Wiese also describes the family networks that existed. Having extended family and friends in the neighborhood was very important in case of hard times, and Wiese refers to different families in Chagrin Falls Park, and uses their story to demonstrate the importance and extension of such networks.
In his article, Wiese not only tries to make visible a history that has been mostly kept in the dark so far, and wants to show that behind the concept of “suburbs” in the United States in the first part of the 20th century, there were not only white middle-class families, but that the scope of inhabitants was much wider, leading to different kinds of suburbs often with common patterns. In addition to his subject, Wiese also uses a very interesting methodology, blending Oral History with social and African American history. It surely brings something more to his research, making his examples feel closer or more tangible to his readers.
To accomplish this, Wiese uses Oral History interviews and inserts them in his article in a very smooth and subtle way. Indeed, He does not quote at length the interviews, or put them in an annex at the end of his work, but he blends them into his writing, using those interviews to exemplify thesis or statements. Secondary literature and other types of primary sources are his basis for research, and then combining it with Oral History makes it more real to the readers, and helps grasp the concepts in a more concrete way. Wiese starts out by giving a context on American suburbs, and then goes on to explain how Chagrin Falls Park got started and started expanding. When he starts describing life in Chagrin Falls Park, what people used to do, how they would live, etc., is the primary use of interviews. Usually, it is children whose parents move to Chagrin Falls Park and recall the way things were. For instance, one lady remembers her father looking for a place with a garden, so they could grow vegetables and raise small livestock. Or he quotes different men to show how commuting was organized. He also uses the example of different families to present how important it was for those African Americans at that time to have a “place of their own”. Having their own house also enabled those people to rent rooms as a source of additional income. One lady and her husband built an addition to their house so they could rent it to people moving in the neighborhood, until their own house was ready. Another couple had three other houses built that they would use for rentals. Wiese also describes the family networks that existed. Having extended family and friends in the neighborhood was very important in case of hard times, and Wiese refers to different families in Chagrin Falls Park, and uses their story to demonstrate the importance and extension of such networks.
In his article, Wiese not only tries to make visible a history that has been mostly kept in the dark so far, and wants to show that behind the concept of “suburbs” in the United States in the first part of the 20th century, there were not only white middle-class families, but that the scope of inhabitants was much wider, leading to different kinds of suburbs often with common patterns. In addition to his subject, Wiese also uses a very interesting methodology, blending Oral History with social and African American history. It surely brings something more to his research, making his examples feel closer or more tangible to his readers.
Friday, October 26, 2007
“Digital Archives are a Gift of Wisdom to be used Wisely”, Roy Rosenzweig
The article entitled “Digital Archives are a Gift of Wisdom to be used Wisely” and written by Roy Rosenzweig in 1995 focuses on the main opportunities, but also impediments, that digital archives can bring to historians. In Rosenzweig’s opinion, one of the big advantages of digital archives is that they offer a more direct access to primary sources, wherever you live or go to College, and independently from the size of the library you can access.
Rosenzweig starts by giving a quick overview on the changes that have occurred in the field of digital use and access in the last decades. He mentions a CD-ROM he worked on with other colleagues which, when it appeared in 1993, already felt kind of obsolete because of the arrival of mosaic, the first web-browser which was easy to use and install and opened the access to the web to the public. Maybe the arrival of Mosaic felt like a huge and very innovative change, but in retrospect it is a little hard to think that CD-ROM would have been outdated by the arrival of internet browsers. Those are two different technologies and both have different possible uses. But let us go back to Rosenzweig. What seems to be most amazing to him is the number of digital libraries and databases that have emerged on the web during the last decades, making all kind of primary sources available to a larger amount of people and widening the scope of resources for teachers in different disciplines.
If some people think that using the web might be dangerous because of the false or bad information that can be found, Rosenzweig chooses to take a stand and defends the changes that have taken place on the World Wide Web in the past years. He believes that the “quality of Web-based historical resources is surprisingly good and getting better.” What seems to be of a bigger concern for the author is the question of the access to all those materials; the actual access to documents on the web, and then more the actual intellectual access (knowing what to do with the sources). Before elaborating some more on the question of access, Rosenzweig takes some time to talk about the relatively recent appearance of google and the great research possibilities it has brought as well as its ranking system. He also mentions the kind of “peer-review” that is becoming more frequent and that helps sorting good from bad information.
It is toward the end of his article that Rosenzweig comes to a very interesting and relevant point: the question of the commercialization of the access to primary sources on the web. His concern is whether the digital world will – or will not – reproduce what the “real” world has been living on: the inequality of access to the available resources. In the “real” world, it is embodied by the size of libraries and the capital of the college, which influence the books, journals, or primary sources that they have been able to gather and are still able to acquire. On the web, this inequality of access can be exemplified with the Thomson Corporation and their 18th century collection. They have digitized “every significant English-language and foreign-language title printed in Great Britain during the 18th century”, but to have access to it, universities have to pay a very impressive fee; a price that not every university can afford. I remember accessing that database when it was still in its beta version, and I must admit that it was a very impressive and useful tool for researchers. As I was working on the 18th century at that time, I was able to find on that website an amazing amount of texts from preachers and intellectuals from England and Switzerland; sermons and different kind of books that I would never have had access to (or with great difficulties) without this online resource. It was a great loss when it left its beta phase and the fee was introduced, because my college did not have the money to subscribe. Therefore, I am not very sure to agree with Rosenzweig when he says that it is impolite to complain about those kind of online database, because the potential they represent is amazing (and he thinks we should maybe consider that aspect more, rather than be upset there is a fee to pay). I just wonder why everything has to be made into a profitable business, even the access to our history. It is rather sad that academic institutions often do not have the necessary funds to undertake such projects, and that those are then grabbed by private institutions/firms whose primary purpose is to generate profit.
And yes, Rosenzweig is right to mention that after the issue of “physical” access, there is still the problem of their actual intellectual access: using and interpreting those documents. However, is it really a new preoccupation? Or is the broader access to primary sources of all kinds making more apparent a problem that had been hiding in the corner for so long: the lack of instruction in reading and using historical sources. Hopefully, changes in the digital world will encourage some needed changes in education.
Rosenzweig starts by giving a quick overview on the changes that have occurred in the field of digital use and access in the last decades. He mentions a CD-ROM he worked on with other colleagues which, when it appeared in 1993, already felt kind of obsolete because of the arrival of mosaic, the first web-browser which was easy to use and install and opened the access to the web to the public. Maybe the arrival of Mosaic felt like a huge and very innovative change, but in retrospect it is a little hard to think that CD-ROM would have been outdated by the arrival of internet browsers. Those are two different technologies and both have different possible uses. But let us go back to Rosenzweig. What seems to be most amazing to him is the number of digital libraries and databases that have emerged on the web during the last decades, making all kind of primary sources available to a larger amount of people and widening the scope of resources for teachers in different disciplines.
If some people think that using the web might be dangerous because of the false or bad information that can be found, Rosenzweig chooses to take a stand and defends the changes that have taken place on the World Wide Web in the past years. He believes that the “quality of Web-based historical resources is surprisingly good and getting better.” What seems to be of a bigger concern for the author is the question of the access to all those materials; the actual access to documents on the web, and then more the actual intellectual access (knowing what to do with the sources). Before elaborating some more on the question of access, Rosenzweig takes some time to talk about the relatively recent appearance of google and the great research possibilities it has brought as well as its ranking system. He also mentions the kind of “peer-review” that is becoming more frequent and that helps sorting good from bad information.
It is toward the end of his article that Rosenzweig comes to a very interesting and relevant point: the question of the commercialization of the access to primary sources on the web. His concern is whether the digital world will – or will not – reproduce what the “real” world has been living on: the inequality of access to the available resources. In the “real” world, it is embodied by the size of libraries and the capital of the college, which influence the books, journals, or primary sources that they have been able to gather and are still able to acquire. On the web, this inequality of access can be exemplified with the Thomson Corporation and their 18th century collection. They have digitized “every significant English-language and foreign-language title printed in Great Britain during the 18th century”, but to have access to it, universities have to pay a very impressive fee; a price that not every university can afford. I remember accessing that database when it was still in its beta version, and I must admit that it was a very impressive and useful tool for researchers. As I was working on the 18th century at that time, I was able to find on that website an amazing amount of texts from preachers and intellectuals from England and Switzerland; sermons and different kind of books that I would never have had access to (or with great difficulties) without this online resource. It was a great loss when it left its beta phase and the fee was introduced, because my college did not have the money to subscribe. Therefore, I am not very sure to agree with Rosenzweig when he says that it is impolite to complain about those kind of online database, because the potential they represent is amazing (and he thinks we should maybe consider that aspect more, rather than be upset there is a fee to pay). I just wonder why everything has to be made into a profitable business, even the access to our history. It is rather sad that academic institutions often do not have the necessary funds to undertake such projects, and that those are then grabbed by private institutions/firms whose primary purpose is to generate profit.
And yes, Rosenzweig is right to mention that after the issue of “physical” access, there is still the problem of their actual intellectual access: using and interpreting those documents. However, is it really a new preoccupation? Or is the broader access to primary sources of all kinds making more apparent a problem that had been hiding in the corner for so long: the lack of instruction in reading and using historical sources. Hopefully, changes in the digital world will encourage some needed changes in education.
"Can you do serious history on the web?", Carl Smith
The title of Carl Smith’s article is pretty much self-explanatory: “Can You Do Serious History on the Web?” wonders whether or not historical websites can be a relevant source of information and, as such, be considered as “serious history”. Smith’s point of view is that it is, indeed, possible to produce significant content on the Internet and he proceeds to prove this with the example of an online exhibition he curated on the Great Chicago Fire. Smith gives extensive examples from that experience to show how that type of history making is valid. The online-exhibit is made of two main chapters, each having galleries of images, libraries of texts as well as interpretive essays. Smith, in collaboration with others, worked on selecting images and texts, referred to and used some of the main research that have been produced on that question, and attempted to include some original approaches on the subject.
Early in his article, Smith offers to define “serious history”: it is an “original work that is responsibly based on primary sources, is intelligently informed by relevant scholarship, and makes a clear argument or group of arguments.” Smith admits that it might be a simplified definition, but it seems to cover the main and general aspects of what an in-depth historical work might be. In addition to being a significant work, the use of the web also brought some interesting opportunities for the exhibit. For instance, it enabled Smith to make available a large variety of texts. The form and the structure of the website also allowed the opportunity to bring together different texts, ideas and images in a way that might not be easy in a book or in a museum. Furthermore, because the website is going to be available online for an unlimited amount of time, it makes it possible for its visitors to come back, read the different texts at their own pace, or print what they want. Thanks to the evolution of graphic web designing, such intense texts and information can be presented in a very readable and visitor-friendly display. For Smith, not only is it important that it is a form of serious history, but the fact that people are encouraged to interact with history by themselves, explore and interpret it.
One of Smith’s central points is that he is not trying to sell a substitute way of making history, but rather a complementary one. Because of the new and different possibilities it conveys, the web is something that should be used by historians, and not rejected. The question that historians – teachers as well as scholars – should keep in mind is what they ultimately want to achieve, especially in the field of public history. If one of the goals is to reach a larger public, and transmit a qualitatively serious and comprehensive history, maybe using the web as a tool should be taken into account. Smith’s conclusion points at a very valid and crucial concept: “The only way to see to it that there is serious history on the web is to put it there ourselves.” The problem maybe lies in the fact that too many historians are still reluctant and doubtful about the digital and the online worlds. But is this based on reasonable judgment, or on some lack of knowledge on those new technologies and possibilities? The question has been thrown in the debate arena.
Early in his article, Smith offers to define “serious history”: it is an “original work that is responsibly based on primary sources, is intelligently informed by relevant scholarship, and makes a clear argument or group of arguments.” Smith admits that it might be a simplified definition, but it seems to cover the main and general aspects of what an in-depth historical work might be. In addition to being a significant work, the use of the web also brought some interesting opportunities for the exhibit. For instance, it enabled Smith to make available a large variety of texts. The form and the structure of the website also allowed the opportunity to bring together different texts, ideas and images in a way that might not be easy in a book or in a museum. Furthermore, because the website is going to be available online for an unlimited amount of time, it makes it possible for its visitors to come back, read the different texts at their own pace, or print what they want. Thanks to the evolution of graphic web designing, such intense texts and information can be presented in a very readable and visitor-friendly display. For Smith, not only is it important that it is a form of serious history, but the fact that people are encouraged to interact with history by themselves, explore and interpret it.
One of Smith’s central points is that he is not trying to sell a substitute way of making history, but rather a complementary one. Because of the new and different possibilities it conveys, the web is something that should be used by historians, and not rejected. The question that historians – teachers as well as scholars – should keep in mind is what they ultimately want to achieve, especially in the field of public history. If one of the goals is to reach a larger public, and transmit a qualitatively serious and comprehensive history, maybe using the web as a tool should be taken into account. Smith’s conclusion points at a very valid and crucial concept: “The only way to see to it that there is serious history on the web is to put it there ourselves.” The problem maybe lies in the fact that too many historians are still reluctant and doubtful about the digital and the online worlds. But is this based on reasonable judgment, or on some lack of knowledge on those new technologies and possibilities? The question has been thrown in the debate arena.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Book review: Preserving Nature in the National Parks: A History
Richard W. Sellars Preserving Nature in the National Parks: A History is a comprehensive and rather surprising research on the topic. Comprehensive because his three hundred pages book thoroughly covers the period from prior to the creation of the National Park Service to almost nowadays. Rather surprising because, even though Sellars actually works for the Service, this does not prevent him from drawing a somewhat controversial picture of his Service history and situation. Sellars chooses to mainly focus on the environmental and ecological aspects of National Parks management, and his perspective is that throughout the century, those two aspects have never been really dominant. Even though changes have occurred, the improvements are probably not important enough. The problem is that, from the very beginning, scientific research has never been dominant in the management’s philosophy.
Sellars presents the importance of business interests in the development of National Parks, from the very establishment of Yellowstone as a National Park in 1872, continuing with the creation of the National Park Service in 1916. Railroad companies were interested in the development of those Parks, because of the opportunities they brought, for railroads construction, but also hotels and other commodities. From the very beginning, the main focus for the Parks management was aesthetical preoccupations and tourism. The idea was clear, it was to “make business of Scenery” (p. 28). Of course, conserving nature was always something in the back of the mind, but it did not imply the preservation of the natural conditions. Throughout the decades, predators were killed, species becoming too predominant were also killed, fish-growth was strongly encouraged for fishing purposes and nonnative plants were introduced and kept.
An element that is emphasized on from the first chapters of this book is that fact that a tradition in preoccupation was set very early in the history of the Service. Its first directors clearly did not want to involve science in their management, and the management of the land mostly had to be utilitarian in order to keep things nice and attract more tourists. Some hope for ecological concerns emerged some time during the 1930s, but it seems to have been too early and did not get any support from politics or from the public. Therefore, the attempts of a few biologists remained mostly fruitless until the 1960s and 1970s, when a broader ecological movement emerged in society. It seems that the situation for biologists and scientific research has slowly been improving in the last two to three decades. They are not prevalent in the Parks Management, but they have been given a voice and have been able to influence choices. In Sellars’s words, the National Park Service remains nowadays a “House divided”, still torn between one side wanting to become more scientifically and ecologically informed and another side mostly preoccupied with continuing the predominant tradition of the Service: that of being touristically attractive.
In Preserving Nature in the National Parks, Sellars gives lots of examples, shows the management problems that have emerged over the decades, and keeps hinting that the approach should be more scientific. But he never states one thing clearly, or maybe he just misses the beneath-the-surface aspect: it is not just a question of inserting scientifically ecological and environmental research in National Parks management. The deeper question is rather related to the goals given to National Parks. What should they do, what should they bring? That would influence what works need to be performed in order to fulfill those goals. In the United States, it clearly seems that the primary goal of National Parks is to be organized in uniquely beautiful spaces for the visitors’ leisurely enjoyment. But one question stands out of this: aren’t they enough of other places to do that? Shouldn’t National Park first and above all aim at preserving Nature, offering people an opportunity to observe wildlife in its natural and original environment? Shouldn’t parks be more of a preservation area rather than a displayable business card for the country? There is an old reference to Switzerland in this book, and how we have been able to use our beautiful sceneries, bring them in the front stage. However, looking at the website of our National Park, I do not see any trace of “making business of Scenery”; I rather see preservation and protection of wildlife, research, and educating people about their natural environment. Some food for thoughts: http://www.nationalpark.ch/
Sellars presents the importance of business interests in the development of National Parks, from the very establishment of Yellowstone as a National Park in 1872, continuing with the creation of the National Park Service in 1916. Railroad companies were interested in the development of those Parks, because of the opportunities they brought, for railroads construction, but also hotels and other commodities. From the very beginning, the main focus for the Parks management was aesthetical preoccupations and tourism. The idea was clear, it was to “make business of Scenery” (p. 28). Of course, conserving nature was always something in the back of the mind, but it did not imply the preservation of the natural conditions. Throughout the decades, predators were killed, species becoming too predominant were also killed, fish-growth was strongly encouraged for fishing purposes and nonnative plants were introduced and kept.
An element that is emphasized on from the first chapters of this book is that fact that a tradition in preoccupation was set very early in the history of the Service. Its first directors clearly did not want to involve science in their management, and the management of the land mostly had to be utilitarian in order to keep things nice and attract more tourists. Some hope for ecological concerns emerged some time during the 1930s, but it seems to have been too early and did not get any support from politics or from the public. Therefore, the attempts of a few biologists remained mostly fruitless until the 1960s and 1970s, when a broader ecological movement emerged in society. It seems that the situation for biologists and scientific research has slowly been improving in the last two to three decades. They are not prevalent in the Parks Management, but they have been given a voice and have been able to influence choices. In Sellars’s words, the National Park Service remains nowadays a “House divided”, still torn between one side wanting to become more scientifically and ecologically informed and another side mostly preoccupied with continuing the predominant tradition of the Service: that of being touristically attractive.
In Preserving Nature in the National Parks, Sellars gives lots of examples, shows the management problems that have emerged over the decades, and keeps hinting that the approach should be more scientific. But he never states one thing clearly, or maybe he just misses the beneath-the-surface aspect: it is not just a question of inserting scientifically ecological and environmental research in National Parks management. The deeper question is rather related to the goals given to National Parks. What should they do, what should they bring? That would influence what works need to be performed in order to fulfill those goals. In the United States, it clearly seems that the primary goal of National Parks is to be organized in uniquely beautiful spaces for the visitors’ leisurely enjoyment. But one question stands out of this: aren’t they enough of other places to do that? Shouldn’t National Park first and above all aim at preserving Nature, offering people an opportunity to observe wildlife in its natural and original environment? Shouldn’t parks be more of a preservation area rather than a displayable business card for the country? There is an old reference to Switzerland in this book, and how we have been able to use our beautiful sceneries, bring them in the front stage. However, looking at the website of our National Park, I do not see any trace of “making business of Scenery”; I rather see preservation and protection of wildlife, research, and educating people about their natural environment. Some food for thoughts: http://www.nationalpark.ch/
Review: “Selling the Meaning of Place: Entrepreneurship, Tourism, and Community Transformation in the Twentieth-Century American West”, Hal K. Rothman
The article written by Hal K. Rothman and entitled “Selling the Meaning of Place: Entrepreneurship, Tourism, and Community Transformation in the Twentieth-Century American West”, briefly but grippingly presents an overview of the different changes of tourism in the American West, from the beginning of the century until then end of the 20th century. According to Rothman, tourism is an unique industry in its capacity to anticipate and adapt to cultural trends. From reading his article, one can also relate to the significance of economic and social aspects. Rothman presents three stages in tourism in chronological order of appearance: heritage tourism, recreation tourism and finally entertainment tourism. For the first one, Rothman mostly focuses on the history of Grand Canyon and Santa Fe. For both places, he demonstrates how the transportation offered by the developing railroad industry helped for the emergence of those places as historic and touristic. What was also important for those places were the roles played by individual entrepreneurs, who chose to invest in their development and bring out interesting aspects. In Grand Canyon, for instance, making it attractive for heritage tourism was its symbolism as a true American (and not European influenced, like the East side) unique scenery, slowly organized with access via railroads, then roads, with hotels and other attractions. In a second phase, recreation tourism focused on different kinds of visitors, looking for different types of activities. Rothman focuses on the emerging skiing industry, and presents the examples of Sun Valley and Aspen. Before the 1920s and 1930s, skiing already had grown to be a popular activity in the East. It however became of interest in the West in the 1920s, and the idea was mostly to offer to wealthy people less crowded slopes, in some amazing areas. Sun Valley embodies such an example. Once again, it was under the impulsion of one man – W. Averell Harriman – closely related to the railroads industry (he was the head of the Union Pacific Railroad) that the place got prepared for American tourists. He bought the land, and then hired a public relations specialist to start promoting the place. The latter had in his mind a grandiose hotel that would attract affluent and famous people. Harriman aimed at the upper- and upper-middle classes, creating an accessible and enjoyable outdoor recreation space, organized in a nice resort. Finally, Rothman closes with a third chapter on entertainment tourism, the most famous example of this being Las Vegas. Emerging from the post-war period, this new type of tourism was no longer limited only to the sole privileged ones, but adopted a more general and leisurely approach. At that time, railroad was not the transportation industry that was so influent anymore; jet airplanes were the ones to largely contribute to the expansion of that kind of tourism. With its hotels, casinos, and also the unique shows that were brought there (Cirque du Soleil, for instance), Las Vegas expanded as a typical entertaining city, offering 24/7 recreational activities for everybody, that felt rather luxurious.
If the American touristic industry started as mostly entrepreneurial in the early 20th century, Rothman shows how it slowly grew into something bigger and more lucrative, drawing in the interests of corporate and institutional business in the second half of the century. Tourism became all about how to find the perfect spot and then make it agreeable to potential visitors or clients. Nowadays, it seems that the different types of tourisms described by Rothman are not that obvious anymore; a historical site can be made very entertaining; history, leisure and activities are brought together in an attempt to give people the feeling that they are learning something, coming closer to their past, in an amazing setting, while relaxing at the same time. Almost everything is about business and profit, isn’t it?
If the American touristic industry started as mostly entrepreneurial in the early 20th century, Rothman shows how it slowly grew into something bigger and more lucrative, drawing in the interests of corporate and institutional business in the second half of the century. Tourism became all about how to find the perfect spot and then make it agreeable to potential visitors or clients. Nowadays, it seems that the different types of tourisms described by Rothman are not that obvious anymore; a historical site can be made very entertaining; history, leisure and activities are brought together in an attempt to give people the feeling that they are learning something, coming closer to their past, in an amazing setting, while relaxing at the same time. Almost everything is about business and profit, isn’t it?
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Landmarks & Legacy: bus tour of African American Heritage and History
Starting at the Riley House, the bus tour on the heritage of African Americans in Tallahassee took us in a variety of places. Among them were Smokey Hollow, FAMU, the Civic Center, the old City Cemetery, Frenchtown, Alabama Street, Miracle Hill, FSU and finally Goodwood. Each place had something to tell us about the history of the African American community in Tallahassee. For instance, the Old city cemetery was and still is a segregated cemetery. Its West part is only for African Americans (important and/or wealthy ones only); the East side is reserved for white Caucasians. The two sides are quite different in appearance, the West being much simpler, less inhabited. Miracle Hill was the first nursing home for African Americans in Tallahassee, and was started by a Black Primitive Baptist Church back in the 1940s. FSU might have been created in 1851, but it was only in 1961 that the first black students got the opportunity to study in this institution. One of the now-administrative building of FAMU used to be a hospital for the African American community. And where the Civic Center now stands, there used to be a flea market, which was a meeting ground for the African Americans in Tallahassee.
One of the interesting moments of the tour was driving through the part of Tallahassee called “Frenchtown”. Maybe it is because I speak French and people keep thinking I am French (but no, I’m Swiss, and not Swedish either), but I have always been curious about that part of town. I had heard things about it, but – after one year in town – still had no idea where it was and what it looked like. I had heard that it was not such a good part of town at one point, but that things have been improving over the years. It certainly looked like it. Even though the neighborhood still seems pretty diverse, it was interesting to observe what they call the “revitalization” process. Frenchtown used to be the center of the city for the African American community. It used to have Lincoln Academy, a movie theater, different stores and public places. The neighborhood seems to have changed a lot, but now there is a plan to bring it back to life, making it more attractive again. The project is laudable per se, but its consequences not so much. Indeed, the plan is to build new residential houses that look exactly like the old and original ones still standing there. That is a good example of integration, to keep the unity of a neighborhood or district. However, there is a glitch in the picture. Indeed, those new houses might be identical copies from the original ones, but they are so much more expensive. The consequence is that the original inhabitants can no longer afford the new neighborhood. That reminded me of Mike Wallace’s Mickey Mouse History and Essays on American Memory, in his chapter about the history of Historic Preservation in the United States. At one point, Wallace explains how historic districts are being restored and revitalized – which is good – but that as a result, the original community living in that area has to move out, because prices become too high. Wallace is very strongly opinionated, and yet he seems to have a point that I had not fully realized when first reading him. I thought he only felt the need to relate everything to class struggles and unfairness. Once again, I thought he was just making too much of a fuss. But having seen Frenchtown, and having actually witnessed what Wallace was referring to, helped me understand what his general concern was. I will not go as far as agreeing with all of his critiques, but the underlying issue is much more obvious now: should a district be restored and revitalized to the detriment of its original inhabitants? Isn’t it too much of a paradox that bringing back a neighborhood to what it used to be implies getting rid of its “historic community”? Shouldn’t preservation try to take into consideration both the buildings and the communities? I am not quite sure to what extent such a project could be possible, but some steps can be surely taken towards that direction.
Visiting Goodwood was also an interesting experience, because of the amazing preservation and restoration work that has been performed, and also because the place is unique. Protected by majestic live oaks, this early-nineteenth century residence has been brought back to what it looked like in the 1920s. Its furniture is all original and reflects the different owners of the house. Goodwood was originally a plantation, and therefore surely had slaves working out in the fields. The owners also surely had servants around them, for it is a very big house that needs taking care of. However, that history is very much left on the side, the visit focusing on the different landlords and landladies. This is very much understandable, because the history on that aspect is already so very rich, and this is mostly what the house tells us about itself. However, I wondered in retrospect how our visit to Goodwood could be related to the rest of our tour, how to include this part of history in the history we had mostly been focusing on: the African Americans in Tallahassee.
Leaving books and classes, going on a bus tour to discover the history of a city and of one of its community was a fascinating experience. History was right there, through buildings, cemeteries, and neighborhoods. It was something reachable, not just something you have to imagine or conceptualize while sitting quietly at your desk. And as I am writing this, I cannot help but remember what Adam said on the bus: “Could you imagine what such a field trip would be like in Washington?” Once again, this reminded me of Europe and makes me imagine a public history or historic preservation field trip in Paris, Rome, or even Berne. It would not be just school-book history anymore, and it would not be simply walking in the street, observing very old buildings and different monuments and respecting them just because of their age or meaning. It would be a combination, using what books have taught us to discover further and experience the heritage that all those cities carry; not just architectural, but also social and economical.
One of the interesting moments of the tour was driving through the part of Tallahassee called “Frenchtown”. Maybe it is because I speak French and people keep thinking I am French (but no, I’m Swiss, and not Swedish either), but I have always been curious about that part of town. I had heard things about it, but – after one year in town – still had no idea where it was and what it looked like. I had heard that it was not such a good part of town at one point, but that things have been improving over the years. It certainly looked like it. Even though the neighborhood still seems pretty diverse, it was interesting to observe what they call the “revitalization” process. Frenchtown used to be the center of the city for the African American community. It used to have Lincoln Academy, a movie theater, different stores and public places. The neighborhood seems to have changed a lot, but now there is a plan to bring it back to life, making it more attractive again. The project is laudable per se, but its consequences not so much. Indeed, the plan is to build new residential houses that look exactly like the old and original ones still standing there. That is a good example of integration, to keep the unity of a neighborhood or district. However, there is a glitch in the picture. Indeed, those new houses might be identical copies from the original ones, but they are so much more expensive. The consequence is that the original inhabitants can no longer afford the new neighborhood. That reminded me of Mike Wallace’s Mickey Mouse History and Essays on American Memory, in his chapter about the history of Historic Preservation in the United States. At one point, Wallace explains how historic districts are being restored and revitalized – which is good – but that as a result, the original community living in that area has to move out, because prices become too high. Wallace is very strongly opinionated, and yet he seems to have a point that I had not fully realized when first reading him. I thought he only felt the need to relate everything to class struggles and unfairness. Once again, I thought he was just making too much of a fuss. But having seen Frenchtown, and having actually witnessed what Wallace was referring to, helped me understand what his general concern was. I will not go as far as agreeing with all of his critiques, but the underlying issue is much more obvious now: should a district be restored and revitalized to the detriment of its original inhabitants? Isn’t it too much of a paradox that bringing back a neighborhood to what it used to be implies getting rid of its “historic community”? Shouldn’t preservation try to take into consideration both the buildings and the communities? I am not quite sure to what extent such a project could be possible, but some steps can be surely taken towards that direction.
Visiting Goodwood was also an interesting experience, because of the amazing preservation and restoration work that has been performed, and also because the place is unique. Protected by majestic live oaks, this early-nineteenth century residence has been brought back to what it looked like in the 1920s. Its furniture is all original and reflects the different owners of the house. Goodwood was originally a plantation, and therefore surely had slaves working out in the fields. The owners also surely had servants around them, for it is a very big house that needs taking care of. However, that history is very much left on the side, the visit focusing on the different landlords and landladies. This is very much understandable, because the history on that aspect is already so very rich, and this is mostly what the house tells us about itself. However, I wondered in retrospect how our visit to Goodwood could be related to the rest of our tour, how to include this part of history in the history we had mostly been focusing on: the African Americans in Tallahassee.
Leaving books and classes, going on a bus tour to discover the history of a city and of one of its community was a fascinating experience. History was right there, through buildings, cemeteries, and neighborhoods. It was something reachable, not just something you have to imagine or conceptualize while sitting quietly at your desk. And as I am writing this, I cannot help but remember what Adam said on the bus: “Could you imagine what such a field trip would be like in Washington?” Once again, this reminded me of Europe and makes me imagine a public history or historic preservation field trip in Paris, Rome, or even Berne. It would not be just school-book history anymore, and it would not be simply walking in the street, observing very old buildings and different monuments and respecting them just because of their age or meaning. It would be a combination, using what books have taught us to discover further and experience the heritage that all those cities carry; not just architectural, but also social and economical.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Book review: Road Trips Through History: A Collection of Essays from Preservation Magazine
Road Trips Through History: A Collection of Essays from Preservation Magazine gathers the articles written by Dwight Young between 1992 and 2003 for his column in the magazine. All in all, the book covers fifty-four articles, all embracing a wide variety of subjects. However, they all have a deep connection: not only are they related to historic preservation, but also to emotions and feelings. Young does not just advertise the importance of historic preservation by offering his potential readers a boring description of places, measures that are lacking, or buildings that are disappearing. In the three parts of this book, Young covers very many different subjects, in a very lively and captivating way.
In his first part, entitled Voyage, Young mostly focuses on different trends that are emerging in the United States. For instance, destroying historic downtowns to then realize that it was better before and reconstruct some sort of copies of traditional ones. He also writes about the relation between music and buildings, the Slow Food Movement and how slowing down life can make you notice things that had never caught your attention before, or about the importance of preserving battlefields as a reminder and homage at the same time. A very witty and concise piece is called “Past Imperfect”, in which Young ironically mocks the tendency to build copies of historic buildings or unique places (Eiffel tower, Venice Doge’s Palace and many others) in Las Vegas. Indeed, why would Americans need to travel aboard and discover the history of Europe or Asia if they can just fly to Vegas and find perfect copies, in air-conditioned areas, surrounded by newly-constructed golf courses and great casinos? Why not use Las Vegas as some sort of preservation center, where copies would be made so that the original can be torn down?
The part called Guides and Fellows Travelers then focuses on a few people, such as Anne Pamela Cunnigham, called the “Mother of the American Preservation Movement”, or specific places. Young, for instance, tells us the story of the people in Toluca who fought to preserve two hills, the “Jumbos”, because they were part of the historic heritage of their city. Another article, “Looking Injustice in the Face” raises the question of how to make a monument or a historic site commemorating an injustice. Using the example of California’s “war relocation centers” for Japanese-Americans during World War II, Young wonders how should such a part of our past be interpreted, how it should be organized so as to encourage visitors to come, face the past and accept to think about what one usually tries to forget. Finally, his article called “Of Paint, Clay, and Marble”, which links September 11 and the situation of the United States to a trip he made through the country side, then to Chesterwood before finally going back to Washington and sit by the Lincoln Memorial, is uniquely simple and yet so powerful.
Destinations closes the collection with essays about buildings and their liveliness. During a trip to Russia, Young went to Kizhi and found there three buildings that felt amazingly special and awe-striking to him. There was a bell tower, the Church of the Intercession and the Church of the Transfiguration. He uses those three buildings and how they made him feel to point at one very important aspect of preservation: it is not always only about preserving something with a particular meaning, but it is also about aesthetic and taking care of unique architectures. Young also hopes that the new City Museum of Washington will encourage its visitors to just go out, walk around and enjoy certain neighborhoods of the city, pay attention to new details.
Buildings and places should be looked at as a link to our past, a tangible connection with those that were there before. Therefore, they should not only be looked at as cold stones, immobile structures. They are telling us something; they are history, but are also unique, beautiful and special. Young’s articles have that way of grabbing their readers, leading them towards a most unexpected path, one that combines historic preservation and emotions. I was afraid to start reading essays from some sort of tree-hugger from the preservation movement. Instead, I ended up reading pieces written in a great style, with ideas put onto paper in a smart and witty way, combining preservation issues with broader perspectives.
In his first part, entitled Voyage, Young mostly focuses on different trends that are emerging in the United States. For instance, destroying historic downtowns to then realize that it was better before and reconstruct some sort of copies of traditional ones. He also writes about the relation between music and buildings, the Slow Food Movement and how slowing down life can make you notice things that had never caught your attention before, or about the importance of preserving battlefields as a reminder and homage at the same time. A very witty and concise piece is called “Past Imperfect”, in which Young ironically mocks the tendency to build copies of historic buildings or unique places (Eiffel tower, Venice Doge’s Palace and many others) in Las Vegas. Indeed, why would Americans need to travel aboard and discover the history of Europe or Asia if they can just fly to Vegas and find perfect copies, in air-conditioned areas, surrounded by newly-constructed golf courses and great casinos? Why not use Las Vegas as some sort of preservation center, where copies would be made so that the original can be torn down?
The part called Guides and Fellows Travelers then focuses on a few people, such as Anne Pamela Cunnigham, called the “Mother of the American Preservation Movement”, or specific places. Young, for instance, tells us the story of the people in Toluca who fought to preserve two hills, the “Jumbos”, because they were part of the historic heritage of their city. Another article, “Looking Injustice in the Face” raises the question of how to make a monument or a historic site commemorating an injustice. Using the example of California’s “war relocation centers” for Japanese-Americans during World War II, Young wonders how should such a part of our past be interpreted, how it should be organized so as to encourage visitors to come, face the past and accept to think about what one usually tries to forget. Finally, his article called “Of Paint, Clay, and Marble”, which links September 11 and the situation of the United States to a trip he made through the country side, then to Chesterwood before finally going back to Washington and sit by the Lincoln Memorial, is uniquely simple and yet so powerful.
Destinations closes the collection with essays about buildings and their liveliness. During a trip to Russia, Young went to Kizhi and found there three buildings that felt amazingly special and awe-striking to him. There was a bell tower, the Church of the Intercession and the Church of the Transfiguration. He uses those three buildings and how they made him feel to point at one very important aspect of preservation: it is not always only about preserving something with a particular meaning, but it is also about aesthetic and taking care of unique architectures. Young also hopes that the new City Museum of Washington will encourage its visitors to just go out, walk around and enjoy certain neighborhoods of the city, pay attention to new details.
Buildings and places should be looked at as a link to our past, a tangible connection with those that were there before. Therefore, they should not only be looked at as cold stones, immobile structures. They are telling us something; they are history, but are also unique, beautiful and special. Young’s articles have that way of grabbing their readers, leading them towards a most unexpected path, one that combines historic preservation and emotions. I was afraid to start reading essays from some sort of tree-hugger from the preservation movement. Instead, I ended up reading pieces written in a great style, with ideas put onto paper in a smart and witty way, combining preservation issues with broader perspectives.
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