Heritage Collaborative:
Oral History Workshop and Panel
March 28, 2014
Peter Shea
Panel discussion on Oral History Theory and Practice
About 20 years
ago I wanted to do a television show that would put out to a million people,
many of whom were asleep, the lives of creative and thoughtful people, who
would also model civil, long conversations.
I held onto the
tapes, but that was my mission, that was how I presented it: you’re talking to
a million people, and you’re telling them about your life. And then as I worked with the Institute for
Advanced Study, a couple of things happened.
One, these things clustered a bit.
I started getting 40 electronic musicians, or seven interviews with the
same art historian. I began to get some
things that were really exciting clusters and the archival possibility emerged,
the streaming possibility emerged.
And so I find
myself providing a service to history as I produce primary source material, but
I don’t take responsibility for it in the same way that oral historians do,
because I‘m not writing about it, I may never write about it. That’s not my
game.
So I’m sort of
weird. And I want to give some advice from a weird perspective, and
then let people hit me. Because I’m not
them. They’re not doing what I’m doing; I’m not doing what they’re doing, but I
still want to give people advice, even though.
So I’m going to give some advice under three headings: prepare, preserve, and personalize. Or if you prefer, get ready, get it all and
get serious. You can fill in the other
letters yourself.
Prepare.
I come
into a room and there’s a woman sitting here, and I say: “What do you do?” and
she says, “I’m the premier Haydn scholar in Canada”, and I recall that Canada is
to the north - I was there once for a few hours - and that Haydn did a symphony
about a clock. Now it is possible in
that situation to do a decent interview.
You just have to make sure that you let the person talk long enough, and
you’ve got to make sure that they see themselves as talking to ignorant people,
yourself first among them.
So they begin
telling you what their story is: “How did you come to do what you’re
doing?” After about 10 minutes, you
begin to get some ideas that you can work on. I want to say the scary thing,
that it isn’t necessary to prepare: it’s nice. I certainly prepare when I can,
and as much as I can. Sometimes I end up being very prepared, because I have
worked in exactly the area that someone is working in, but it isn’t a
prerequisite. One day I do Asian film,
and the next day I do Haydn, and the next day I may do the deputy zoo keeper at
Como Zoo.
So, where does
this go? You don’t have to prepare. It’s great to prepare. It’s great to know
what’s out there, so that you can know that you’re adding something.
Here’s the odd
piece of advice I will give you. Have
something going on in your head, around about your interview. I think is more important actually than being
prepared. Be thinking about
something. Have Dickens’ Hard Times playing in the car, or
McCullough’s biography of Truman, or something that gives you a train of
thought. Life really is interconnected,
and if you’re thinking about something, it will give you an immediate
connection, in weird ways. It will give
you ways of getting what they’re saying, ways of making what their saying
interesting.
Preserve
I think in oral
history we are basically where archeology was just at the cusp of radio-carbon
dating. We know that there is an immense
amount of information contained in these interviews. We don’t quite have the
technology to get it out yet. But someday we will. You can imagine an archeologist saying “I
think I’ll go and excavate this mound; if people don’t like how I do it, they can
come re-excavate it -- no big
deal.” Well it’s a huge deal, because
once you’ve moved stuff around, they’ll never find that fine-grade information
that we know is necessary. Or an
archeologist says “Lots of people are really fussy about documentation, but I
believe in simple things. There was a
hole; there were some pots. Some were red; some were white. There were some
bones. It was all kind of jumbled up, and it was about a foot and a half
down.” Nobody in archeology would do
that now, because we know what you can do if you know exactly where something
was and exactly how deep it was and exactly what it was in relationship
to. Well I think we are at that stage where
we know there is something there in interviews but we don’t have information to
get at it. For example, Ekman’s stuff on
micro-expressions tells us that there is huge information to be obtained in how
someone speaks and gestures.
Communication
theory stuff says that there is information contained in the dance that goes on
in a group like this, between our various gestures, and all of that requires
analysis: it takes a very long time to do 120 seconds, but it’s out there. And that means, preserving responsibly means
you’ve got to get video, probably from a couple of cameras. And you’ve got to
get audio, and the audio has got to be available together with
transcripts. Not because what you do may
need it, but because you’re the person who got the shot at this person, and you
don’t want to be cursed into eternity by more sophisticated investigators a
hundred years from now for not having preserved the important stuff. I think you just have to do that. I’ve been to some extent a sinner with audio;
at least I’ve been better with video.
I’ll give you a
couple of examples of why it’s important.
One of the guys I interviewed was John Davis. He was probably the best administrator that
Minnesota has ever seen, and the evidence
of that is that Macalester College still exists, the Children’s Theatre
still exists - I think Minnesota State Mankato was another one of those
organizations that was about to go down for the third time until he came
along. The Minneapolis public schools
woke up to integration a whole lot earlier than they might have otherwise when
he was superintendent. Everyone who
knows him says this guy is a hero.
He comes in, he
does these things, he leaves. He doesn’t
stay around and weight down the institution.
What’s up with this? I got the interview. He comes to the door wearing
one of those Harvard bow ties, and I think I understand in a certain way how he
can pull it off. He’s got something I
would call “Brahman courtliness.”
“Brahman”’s important; he’s from the upper class and you will never miss
that fact. And he’s also giving you the
most intense attention you’ve probably have ever gotten since you were
courted. He moves with incredible grace.
And those things have got to be part of what your audience sees. And only video would capture it. If you don’t like “Brahman
courtliness,” the video’s on the IAS web
site. You’ll see what he does.
Anybody who’s
trying to run an organization needs a blood transfusion from the guy. He died of mad cow a couple of years ago, so
he’s not around to help anymore.
Or another one
that moved me: I interviewed a very smart farm couple in southwest Minnesota,
and they had done something every farm
couple in southwest Minnesota wants to do but hasn’t been able to pull off. They had gotten their kids, their boys to
come back to the farm. They’re there for
supper most of the time. Most weekends anyhow. Some of them are there all of
the time.
How did they do
it? They built the damndest diversified
enterprise you’ve ever seen. If a nuclear bomb hits that place, they’ll be
selling souvenirs three years later. It’s that strong. Each of the kids has his
own workshop within a very large building that has fiber optic cable. It’s got bays for cars. It’s just a magnificent setup. They were totally killed by a tornado a few
years ago. They used the insurance money
plus sweat equity to build this very complex structure that is like an economic
model for holding a family of diverse interests together.
I got the wife
and the camera in front of me and had a wonderful conversation, had it
transcribed. I looked at the transcription and was appalled because she sounded
stupid. It was wandering and rambling:
what’s going on? This has to be one of
the smartest people I’ve met, and she’s sounding stupid. Then I listened to the interview again. She doesn’t use grammar; she uses other
devices to hold her discourse together.
She uses music; you’d have to put her speech on a musical scale to get
straight what she’s doing because the lengths and the shortnesses and the
pitches are what hold it together. When you read it, it looks like a mess. So it’s a tribute to a kind of intelligence
that you don’t see very often. It’s
absolutely invisible in writing.
So you’ve got to
preserve what you’ve got. And you’ve got to start with a non-intrusive
interviewer.
The third point
is: you‘ve got to personalize.
Scholarship is
important, but it’s not very important. What is more important than scholarship
is having a soul, if you don’t have one; saving your soul, if you do. Those are the big things. Scholarship is secondary to that. The question that matters when you’re
talking to people and asking for their stories is: what voices do I need to
have in my head to become the person I want to be? Who do I need to hear from
to balance things out, to inspire me, to warn me.
My own
experience, one last point.
I took 26 years
to get a PhD. It set a record. And during that time I developed a certain
animosity toward graduate students, reflected in the way I used the words
“graduate student.” It had a kind of
poison on it, by the time it got out of my mouth to the other student, it had
poison on it. Also, assistant and associate professors bothered me. And I had
images about them - of course you do when you’re outside a club - you have all
kinds of images about the people in the club. That’s just natural. But I
decided that it was important to get beyond that by actually talking to a bunch
of them. And some of them are just as
trivial as I thought they were, and some of them are just as confused and out
of it as I thought they were. And a great many of them aren’t. A great many of
them are just what you want in the community as leaders. So now I know. I can’t
speak that way anymore. I tried to meet
my fellow panelists before I came here today, because I knew I would say
something offensive, but I thought I would be offensive in an ignorant way if I
didn’t actually like the people I was sitting next to. That’s the important
thing. It’s an important thing for me. You can always make a salary. I would really like to die with a soul. It would be nice if they could put it on my
tombstone, “had a soul.” Don’t tell
anyone you’re doing it. It’s probably good, if the cameras are running, to speak
angrily and forcefully against the denigration of scholarship. Get yourself quoted. But never forget that scholarship is a very
dicey game, and that you’re basically here to figure out who you are, and that
means who you are in relationship to a some other people on the planet.
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