Sunday Sermon: Tho We Walk in the Valley of the Shadow of Online Love . . .

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In response to my post about computer dating, personals, and a personal story, Astute Reader Dexter (who swears he's not spending all his time lounging on a Hawaii beach -- but, heh heh, we know better, right?) sent me the link to this wistfully sweet but truly hilarious tale of online romance. It's worth taking 7 minutes of your life to listen. Major tip o' the mug to Dexter for providing today's Sunday sermon.

A Historian At Work: Using Facts to Build "Stories." Part Two

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Part One --- Part Two--- Part Three --- Part Four --- Part Five

Here’s my answer to the student’s question:

That opening scene is factual, based on the available evidence, and on common sense.

Remember that the first sentences of that excerpt from Part One, in which I describe Phillip walking to Langworthy’s shop? Here’s what I knew: The Best family had almost no money at the time. They’d recently emigrated, and put all of their cash into the piece of property they bought. So it’s unlikely they used a horse to get around Milwaukee. Horses were (and are) expensive, and regular folks relied on their feet to get from one place to another. Moreover, in 1844, there wasn’t any public transportation in town.

So it’s safe to assume that Phillip walked to Langworthy's shop. But I could also assume that he walked because of the short distance between his house and Langworthy’s shop.

How do I know that? I found one of Langworthy’s advertisements in the newspaper, and it included his address. Next, I found a map of Milwaukee that dated to the period. If I remember right, the one I used was produced around 1850 or 1852 (I’m too lazy to rummage through my files to find it right now to find the map), which was close enough to 1844 to give me a visual image of the town’s streets at the time of Phillip’s trek.

Then I used a current map of Milwaukee to calculate the distance from the Best’s brewery to the shop. I also walked the path myself when I visited Milwaukee to do research. It’s not far -- a half mile or so?

But what lay in between the two points? What did Phillip see as he walked from his house to the riverfront and Langworthy’s shop? How do I know about the millrace, the docks, the tanneries, and so forth?

I determined that by reading eyewitness descriptions of the town as it appeared in 1844: Letters written during the 1840s, diaries, newspapers, government documents. Once I’d done all of that, I was able to construct a mental image of Phillip making his way along the crowded sidewalks to Langworthy’s shop. But that image was based on multiple, verifiable facts. Reliable facts.

Next time: How do I decide which sources are reliable?

It's Not the 1930s. It's the 1970s.

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Unless you've been glued to Second Life or some computer game the past six months, you've noticed all the talk about how current economic crisis is like the 1930s.

Okay. Sure. But it feels to me more like the 1970s. I was in my early 20s then, and the economic chaos -- inflation, deflation, stagflation, younameitation -- hit hard. I worked two, three jobs at a time and barely kept pace. (And I was single with no dependents and no debt. I didn't have a mortgage, a credit card, or even a checking account.) (Not trying to make you feel sorry for me; just trying to provide a sense that everyone struggled.)

Anyway, here's what I remember most about that decade: Reading newspaper interviews with people in their fifties and sixties who'd been laid off and believed, and assumed, that they would never return to work.

Their pessimism was probably not misplaced. The nation's economy underwent a profound transformation and whole industries, and the jobs attached to them, vanished. That's why all those steel plants litter the landscape of the upper midwest: they shut down and never reopened.

I've believed for some time that that's what's happening now, and finally, today, I find some evidence. Read it and ponder . . .

A Historian At Work: Using Facts to Create "Stories". Part One

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Part One --- Part Two--- Part Three --- Part Four --- Part Five

A few weeks ago, I was asked to speak to a class at a nearby university (the students had read my history of American beer as part of their course work). One student asked a good question. I don’t remember now her precise wording but it went something like this:

In the first chapter of the book, you describe Phillip Best hauling his new brewing vat through the streets of Milwaukee. But that scene reads like a story; like fiction rather than fact. How do you know that’s what happened? Why should we believe you?

Again, I’m paraphrasing her question but I'm bringing it up here now because it gets to the heart of what historians do. For those who don’t have a copy of the book at hand (Hey! Whatsa mattah wit you? GET ONE.), the scene she’s referring to takes place in the first few pages of the book. The setting is Milwaukee in 1844 and concerns Phillip Best, the man who founded what eventually became Pabst Brewing Company. He’s a recent emigrant, and he’s trying to find someone to make a brew vat for his family’s new venture.

Late summer, 1844. Milwaukee, Wisconsin Territory. Phillip Best elbowed his way along plank walkways jammed with barrels, boxes, pushcarts, and people. He was headed for the canal, or the “Water Power,” as locals called it, a mile-long millrace powered by a tree-trunk-and-gravel dam on the Milwaukee River. Plank docks punctuated its tumbling flow and small manufactories--a few mills, a handful of smithies and wheelwrights, a tannery or two--lined its length. Best was searching for a particular business as he pushed his way past more carts and crates, and dodged horses pulling wagons along the dirt street and laborers shouldering newly hewn planks and bags of freshly milled grain. He had only been in the United States a few weeks and Milwaukee’s bustle marked a sharp contrast to the drowsy German village where he and his three brothers had worked for their father, Jacob, Sr., a brewer and vintner.

Phillip finally arrived at the shop owned by A. J. Langworthy, metal worker and ironmonger. He presented himself to the proprietor and explained that he needed a boiler--a copper vat--for his family’s new brewing business. Would Langworthy fabricate it for them? The metalworker shook his head. No. “I [am] familiar with their construction,” he explained to Best, “. . . but I [dislike] very much to have the noisy things around, and [I do] not wish to do so.

Eventually Phillip persuaded Langworthy to make the vat, and a few weeks later, he returned, picked up the vat, and took it home:

It’s not clear how Phillip transported his treasure the half mile or so from Langworthy’s shop to the family’s brewhouse. Perhaps his new friend provided delivery. Perhaps Phillip persuaded an idling wagoner to haul the vat on the promise of free beer. Perhaps one or more of his three brothers accompanied him, and they and their burden staggered through Kilbourntown--the German west side of Milwaukee--and up the Chestnut Street hill. But eventually the vat made its way to the Bests’ property--the location of Best and Company and the foundation of their American adventure.

As you can tell, the student asked a good question: I wasn't there (even I'm not that old). So how do I know what happened? Is this fact or fiction? Next time: How historians "construct" the facts of their "stories."