Historians: Missing in Action

By way of an update (and evidence that, yes!, I’m still alive): As I near the end of the Project From Hell, I finally understand why it has taken so. damn. long.

Well, okay, one of the reasons. (*1) And, hey, it’s connected to one of my favorite subjects --- how historians work --- and, hey, it allows me to rant, and bonus! break my rule about no blogging until I’m finished. (*2)

Here’s the deal: 

For the last two years, I’ve been at first surprised, and then outraged by my fellow historians, who, I have discovered, to my dismay, have zero interest in exploring the history of contentious contemporary issues. 

Or, as I now phrase it: WHAT THE HELL ARE HISTORIANS DOING? Besides, apparently, nothing?

Let me give you an example. It may seem trivial, but it makes my point:

For reasons that aren’t worth going into here (I’m trying to be brief), in the book’s last chapter I needed to discuss the microwave oven. That device, which can be found in 98% of American homes (and widely used in restaurants, too) is the single most important cooking tool to enter the American kitchen in the past century. 

So I needed to write two, maybe three sentences about it. But I couldn’t write those sentences until I first educated myself about the microwave oven’s history, and especially about the speed with which Americans adopted it.

Obviously microwave ovens are not my central topic. So this is a classic example of where it’s appropriate to rely on “secondary sources.” In this case, those secondary sources would be work by historians whose main topic was the microwave oven. 

So I conducted a “literature search”: I looked for other historians’ research on the microwave oven, its introduction into American kitchens, and its impact on Americans’ diets. 

Nada. Zip. Zero. Gotnuthin’forya.

Translation: in order to include those two or three sentences about the microwave oven, I had to drop what I was doing and do my own research into the history of the microwave oven, a task that would require at least a full day, but more probably two or three, just so I could write those two or three sentences.

Okay, so maybe a two-day detour isn’t such a big deal. Unfortunately, I encountered these research gaps over and over and over again --- for Major Big Deal Topics.

Consider the matter of livestock confinement, which is the practice of raising meat animals inside instead of outside on pasture. 

This is a hot button political/social issue in the US and has been for years. So it’s a no-brainer for historians, right? Surely, I assumed, someone has researched the history of confinement farming (which is now more than fifty years old). 

Nope. 

Here’s another Big Deal Topic: corporate-owned hog farms. For the last forty years, these farms, which consist of buildings that contain hundreds of thousands of hog, have provoked controversy, lawsuits and legislation (both state and federal), and have shaped environmental policies. Corporate hog farms are a BIG deal.

You’d think historians would be interested in researching the history of these farms.

Nope. Nada. Nuthin’ there.

Here’s another example: In the last 40 years, chicken has gone from being an afterthought to the number one meat in America. The lowly chicken toppled steak from its throne. Don Tyson built a mega-global corporation based on that change. 

You’d think someone would have researched that change, right?  

What did I find? Three short articles and one dissertation, each focusing on a narrow aspect of the American broiler industry in the mid-twentieth century. (“Broiler” is the industry term for meat chickens.)

In this case, that dearth of research translated into a month in the library --- working seven days a week, eight hours a day --- digging through poultry trade journals and newspapers and research bulletins piecing together the history of the broiler industry. 

And that didn’t include the separate topic of when and why Americans fell in love with chicken. (Which historians have also ignored.)

That’s the way it’s been for three years: one time-consuming detour after another to conduct substantive research that, by any measure of professionalism, should have at least been started by someone. 

At this point you’re thinking “Wait a sec. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? You’re writing a book about meat, so, shouldn’t you be doing the research?”

Yes and no. Yes, when I began this book, I expected to spend most of my time conducting primary research on dozens of meat-related topics.

But, again, those topics aren’t relics stashed in the dustbin of history. These are Big Deal issues NOW, right now in contemporary America: Corporate hog farms, the shift to chicken, the use of confinement, “corporate” farms versus the family farm.

These are matters that have generated controversy and legislation and environmental and agricultural policy for more than fifty years.

Because these issues are so controversial and affect us everyday, directly or indirectly, I was right to assume that some historians would have engaged in research that contributes to our understanding of them. Bare minimum, historians who specialize in agricultural history should have been working on this stuff.

Instead: nothing. 

If ever there was a time to say “What the fuck???,” this is it. 

What the fuck are historians DOING with their time (and, often, taxpayers’ money)? What? Tell me. I want to know.

In the meantime, however, historians’ do-nothingness sent me on one lengthy detour after another.

Which is why a) this book has taken sooooo much longer than I expected; and b) why, about a year ago, I decided that the back of the book will include a short essay titled “A Note To Historians,” in which I will pose that question (leaving out the “what the fuck” part).

End of rant. 

Oh, wait! Almost forgot the update: On or before January 15, 2012, I will finish this book, and it’ll show up in print (probably) a year later. 

I’ll be back --- soon.

*******************************

*1: The other being the two-year nightmare of dealing with the temporary lack of a right arm and more pain thanI could have imagined possible.

* 2: But---this counts as an update, so I’m not really breaking the rule. 

So Close. Sooooooooooooooo Close.

August? Did I say August? I meant late September. 

Okay, so yes, I did think I'd be finished now. The bad news is that I'm not. The GOOD news is that I'm so close I can touch, taste, and feel "the end." I have one chapter left to write, then the introduction and the conclusion. The chapter will take about a month. The intro and conclusion three or four days.

So --- really, it's almost there. I'm feeling a bit frantic about it: I want to get into the publisher's Fall 2012 catalog and in order to do that, I gotta finish this sucker NOW, or at least in the next five weeks. 

Which is why, aside from two major interruptions, I will be keeping my head down for the near future. The two interruptions are: I'm giving three talks in the New York City area the first week of September. The talks are in conjunction with the German-American Stteuben Parade and the festivities that surround that. The second interruption is my high school reunion in mid-September. A year ago, I rather stupidly offered to help organize the event, never dreaming that the reunion would coincide with my race to the finish line with this book. (Because, ya know, I figured I'd be FINISHED with the damn thing by now.)

Anyway, that's what's new here. Or, urm, not new: more delays. Longer hiatus for the blog. But fear not. I shall return. The world keeps getting goofier, and Republican politics weirder (I live in Iowa, remember? We're neck-deep in the 2012 prez election here), so I have LOTS to say once I can get back to blogging.

Until there: au revoir. See you soon. VERY soon.

The Hiatus Post, Redux

Okay, people, I'm off again --- this time until August. The plan, according, ahem, to the contract, is to finish the manuscript by June 1. That ain't gonna happen. Sigh. But I'm SO. CLOSE. So I will now finish by August first.  

In any case, as before, I'm not kidding myself that I can blog and finish on time. My brain simply won't stretch that far. Now if I could do without sleep, food, or exercise, hey! Piece of cake. I'd have way more hours in the day and I could blog and research and write, too.

But --- ain't gonna happen. So I shall return, with any luck manuscript in hand. (And again, I take my "coffee breaks" at Twitter and Facebook, both of which require considerably less brain effort, and time, than writing blog entries.)

Adieu!

More Jack, Thanks to Jay!

Ohmygod, you gotta go over to Jay Brooks' blog to see more about Jack.

I knew Jack was planning to visit Russian River this week. Yesterday he did, and by coincidence, Jay, a master chronicler of all things beer, happened to be there, too. So he's got photos, a video, and therefore documentation that our beloved Jack, screwed-up arm and all, climbed a ladder to sign his old New Albion sign (of which, Vinnie and Natalie Cilurzo are the caretakers).

Damn, I wish I'd been there!

UPDATE: The next day, Jack, Jay, Pat, Natalie, and Vinnie trekked out to the site of Jack's brewery. Jay recorded the event.

But While I'm Here: On the Subject of Brewing, Selling or Not, Brewing History, Etc.

From my perspective, the InBev/Goose Island thing is a lovely coincidence: I just got home from the 2011 Craft Brewers Conference where I gave a short talk about the dangers of mindless expansion and why "mindful" growth is safer, even if that means no growth/expansion at all.

The example I used in my talk (well, one of the examples) was Leinenkugel: I argued that the Leinenkugel family had always focused its "growth" strategy not on their own bottom line, but on how growth (or not) would affect the community where the brewery was located (Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin). The family realized that if the company went under, everyone in town would be hurt by that outcome. So they always thought hard about making any kind of move toward expansion.

And when, in 1988, the family decided to sell the company to Miller Brewing, they did so not because they planned to make out like bandits, but because it was the only way to keep the company going and protect the town. (The deal they signed with Miller clearly guaranteed that Miller would leave the brewery up, running, intact, and in good health. Miller has honored that contract.)

My main point to my audience, which was composed of owners of small companies, was: Think before you leap. Because the history of American brewing is littered with the carcasses of brewers who opted for mindless expansion and failed because of that.

Anyway: on a cheerier note, my talk was brief because the main point of our conference session was to let Jack McAuliffe, pioneering microbrewer, speak. Renee DeLuca, who was also on the panel, and I asked Jack questions, and then we turned things over to the audience, many of whom were eager to tell Jack how they'd first heard about his brewery. One guy had two bottles of New Albion with him! Jack signed the labels.

Photo courtesy of Cathy McAuliffe-Dickerson

It was a deeply moving experience. Deeply moving. I meant what I said: I can now die happy because I finally got Jack in front of an audience of craft brewers so they could pay homage to him. It was all I could do to maintain my composure at the end, when the audience rose for a standing ovation.

Photo courtesy of Renee DeLuca

On a more personal note: I've talked with Jack many times by phone over the years but we'd never met in person. He's even funnier in person. The  man has an incredibly sharp wit (not surprising given that he's extraordinarily intelligent). The accident that nearly killed him two years ago has taken a toll: He speaks more slowly than pre-accident, and in a softer voice. He's also lost the use of his left arm (among his other injuries was a severed nerve in that arm, which means his brain no longer sends or receives signals that enable his muscles to move).

But he's in great spirits. Turns out he hates big crowds and noise as much as I do, so, like me, he mostly hid out. But when he was out and about, it was a joy to see people approach him. As when he and I signed books after the talk.

Photo courtesy of Renee DeLuca

And it was ALL worth it when he stepped on to the trade floor for the first time: the convention includes a trade show where beer-related vendors show their wares, and when Jack saw all that brewing equipment, his eyes grew three sizes and he couldn't escape from us dames (myself, Renee, and his sister Cathy) fast enough. (Jack is still an avid homebrewer and is now also distilling.)

So: a life goal achieved. Jack, my friend, here's to you.

Renee DeLuca, me, Cathy McAuliffe-Dickerson, Jack McAuliffe (Photo courtesy of Cathy McAuliffe-Dickerson)

AB InBev and Its Golden, um, Goose

I just got back from the 2011 Craft Brewers Conference in San Francisco. (Yes, had a great time; thanks for asking. Well, except for the part about the no airplane available on Sunday morning, which forced me to stay an extra day spent almost entirely in an airport hotel.....)

While I was gone, Anheuser-Busch InBev announced it had purchased a controlling share of Goose Island Brewing in Chicago and would soon buy the remaining shares. (ABIB already owned a share of the company that holds the minority share.

And the hand wringing has begun. (I'd post links, but there are too many. Just roam around the beerblogosphere and you'll find plenty.)

But: why? Why the hand wringing? And why is anyone surprised? People, were ya not payin’ attention here at the ol’ blogarooney?

I told you three years ago that you could expect to see moves like this. The only surprising fact here is that there haven’t been more of such moves.

Yes, ABIB and MillerCoors will continue to grab onto craft breweries (how many of them depends entirely on who is inclined to sell. Many craft brewers prefer to keep it small/local/beautiful/whatever). And why not? The people running those companies are not stupid. They understand that a small but affluent segment of beer drinkers is willing to pay a premium for, ya know, premimum beers. Like Goose Island.

And for a beer maker, premium is where it’s at. (Premium beers take up the same amount of space in the warehouse and on the truck, but they bringer a higher profit per bottle than “regular” beers.)

So. Of course ABIB is interested. What will the company do with its new acquisition? I haven’t a clue, although it has two obvious options.

One, it can leave the beermakers alone to keep making what they make (premium beers). Or two, it can tell the beermakers to cease and desist and start making Budweiser knock-offs.

Smart money says they opt for Door Number One. Why? Because ABIB isn’t looking for Bud knockoffs. It’s hunting for premium beers. (Remember those: the ones that yield more profit per bottle than Bud?) Why screw with the goose that’s laying the golden egg? (No pun intended until I realized that, heee heeeee!, I’d just made a pun!) (I’m not so good at puns.)

Leaving Goose Island alone to do what it does best is a win-win for ABIB: It earns profit and it can start loading GI products on its trucks and selling them in a larger territory than was available to GI when it was on its own. 

So. Time will tell, but --- I’ve been a pretty good prognosticator up to now.