What we can be thankful for on Thanksgiving

After the American Century

A cynic might say that we have nothing to be thankful about on Thanksgiving. But there are some good things. I am delighted that Sarah Palin is not Vice President, for example, and glad, too, that McCain is not living in the White House. I am pleased that US energy use (per capita) has leveled off in recent years, and that the shift to renewable energy is continuing, more slowly than I would like, but it is happening.

It is a good thing that the Cold War came to an end, and that the economies of Eastern Europe continue to improve - a story that has been rather swept aside with all the focus on Greece's deficit. Likewise, little Iceland has clawed its way back from the brink of collapse. Denmark has gotten rid of a very bad government and replaced it with one slightly better. The Germans remain willing to bail out the failed economies of Southern Europe, and the French show signs of dumping their prime minister, whom I never have liked much. Italy has finally gotten rid of that buffoon Berlusconi. As for Spain, the economy is rotten and the socialists have been cast out by the voters, but at least their football is sublime.

Many bemoan the low house prices in much of the western world, but this is a good thing for millions of first-time home buyers, who also get lower interest rates than in a booming economy. My own house is worth a bit less, but I am not planning on moving any time soon.  The loss for me and the majority of people is more theoretical than real, and those starting out a life can get a good deal, often after years of waiting.

I am also glad that the US did not make the turkey the national bird, as Ben Franklin suggested. For in that case it might have become a protected species, and instead we might be eating genetically enhanced butterball bald eagles.

Benjamin Franklin's London House

After the American Century

Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) was one of the most famous Americans in his own time, and he has remained an iconic figure ever since. He is on the $100 bill, his Autobiography is still in print, and some of the institutions he helped create, notably the University of Pennsylvania, are flourishing. He was interested in everything, and his curiosity led him to discover that lightning was a form of electricity. He invented a practical and efficient stove. He discovered the existence of the Gulf Stream. In his 80s, when his eyes were weak, he invented bifocals. Franklin was also a consummate politician and a key figure in creating the American Revolution.  Yet one looks in vain for a Franklin house or homestead in the United States. The houses where he lived have not survived.

The reasons for this are not hard to find. Franklin lived abroad most of the time from 1757 until 1785, almost entirely in London and Paris. In both capitals he represented the Americans. First, in London, he served as representative for several colonies in their affairs with the British government. Before the Revolution, he functioned as a proto-ambassador. Afterwards, he was the first American ambassador to France (1776-1785).  

In London between 1757 and 1775 he lived at 36 Craven Street, close to Charring Cross Station (built much later, of course). This house was opened as a museum in 2005, and it is well worth a visit. Fortunately, the house is easily accessible, being just a few minutes walk from Trafalgar Square. No doubt Franklin chose to live there because it was near government offices. It was also a convenient place for his many scientific friends to drop in.

The Georgian house was relatively new when Franklin rented its best rooms and hired a family to keep house for him. It survived fire, flood, and World War II's bombings, which destroyed several other houses nearby. The place was nearly falling down when saved for posterity. The restored rooms are largely bare of furniture, but their woodwork and arrangement are preserved.

Visitors are taken on  a tour into the past by an costumed actress/guide who holds a dialogue with disembodied voices that have been pre-recorded. The visit to each room becomes a dramatic vignette, that seizes the imagination more than one expects. This sort of thing can be done badly, but it worked well for me, and seemed historically accurate. For the people whom I took the tour with, this technique worked also extremely well. It was like attending an innovative theatrical production.

The next time you are in London, visit the house and get a glimpse of Franklin and of how he lived in c. 1770. If you are interested in doing research on Franklin, note that the top floor of the house has been made into the Robert H. Smith Scholarship Centre, with an array of source materials, plus links to Yale University and other centers that hold Franklin materials.

Finally, in case you have not already read it, Franklin's Autobiography is an excellent book, available in many editions, and also in digital format.

Cleveland's Marvelous Public Library

After the American Century

I had the pleasure of spending one day in the Cleveland Public Library. The librarians were knowledgeable, courteous, and efficient. The two buildings were handsome places to work, but the real test of a public library or an archive for a historian is what one finds. Sometimes an entire day yields almost nothing, perhaps due to poor luck, but often due to poorly organized materials, finding aids that are inadequate, or staff who make only a minimal effort. Sometimes, I get what I hoped to find, and go away satisfied, which was my experience on a similar mission at the Boston Public Library a year ago. But once in a great while I find much more than I had dared expect, and if this happens it almost always is because the librarians and archivists are real professionals. 

Cleveland Public Library, the new building holds the photographic collections

In this particularly happy research expedition, I spent almost all my time in the photographic collection, housed in the newer of the two library buildings and located on the fourth floor. All the images that I requested seemed to be near at hand, not buried in a vault or stored off-site. Moreover, the staff, led by the extremely capable Margaret Baughman, took a real interest in my project, and suggested places to look that I had no way of knowing about.

In the space of a single day, I reviewed hundreds and hundreds of images, selecting 14 in the end for reproduction. These images were scanned and ready for me as digital files the following day. Moreover, the price was extremely fair, in an age when every archive routinely demands $100 or more for each image. I have paid as much as $500 for a single image from a well-known magazine, whose name you might guess but I will not specify here. Such high prices force historians to make compromises or omit images, unless they are fortunate enough to find an oasis like the Cleveland Public Library.

Below, I reproduce one of the images I found there, but to fit it within this blog it is a mere jpeg file, not the wonderful TIFF scan provided to me. This is too large for easy use on this blog.

This image shows part of the Ford Motor Company's Model T assembly line. This is how it looked in c. 1915, when the method of manufacturing had just being invented. It was so new it did not yet have a widely used name. Originally, this photograph was used in one of the Cleveland newspapers, now defunct, whose images were donated to the Cleveland Public Library. I amusing it in America's Assembly Line, to be published by MIT Press in 2013, a centennial history of the assembly line in American culture.

Many of the best things in life are unexpected. The efficiency, intelligence and helpfulness of this library staff make Cleveland an attractive place to do research, and I very much expect to return for help with a quite different project, dealing with a young man who grew up in Ohio and edited a newspaper there for some years before the Civil War.

Halloween in Boston

After the American Century

In the Halloween streets of Boston costumes. Dracula in the subway, a cowboy in the diner, and a gypsy in the bookstore. Free candy at almost every cash register, and even in a serious office a bit of playful clothing, an odd hat, flashing electric earrings or a wild orange tie.

Whatever may be wrong with the US economy, whatever fears may clutch at the heart (or the wallet), Americans still know how to be playful and a little crazy. There is an edge, and it is not getting dull.

This playfulness should not suggest frivolity, for it is the flip-side of the energy and drive that Americans pass down through the generations. Yes, there are problems, and I write about them here in this space often enough. But there is no lack of enthusiasm and shared good humor nevertheless.

OK, this is just Halloween, but the levity is a sign of good mental health, despite the bitterness about the banks, despite the partisan politics, despite the 9% unemployment, and despite the weight of individual difficulties. Walking around the city today was a reminder that the country is far more than the sum of its problems.