Suffocating History

Bruce Cole sketches an elegant portrait of historian Barbara Tuchman that’s well worth reading in its entirety, particularly for her tips on “practicing history,” as she called it. But Cole focuses on the fact that Tuchman was not an academic — to her credit.

Is a Ph.D.—the union card for the professorate—a hindrance to approaching history as Tuchman did?

Alas, the answer is likely “yes.” The years-long slog of course work, exams and the laborious, footnote-laden dissertation—written strictly to be read by other scholars—have a way of hard-wiring habits of the mind that are difficult to overcome. A few academically trained scholars do survive the tyranny of their doctorates and reach a wide reading audience. But inside the Ivory Tower, where most historians dwell, professors write books, articles, and conference papers for other professors, and mainly for those colleagues toiling in the same small subset of the past.

A grad-school professor once chided me that I wrote in a “casual” popular style. His goal was to gently push me toward a more formal tone in my papers but I stubbornly dug in my heels. Academic English is a baroque dialect, a game of tin-can telephone meant for a minority of receivers, as Cole says, and not intended for a general audience.

Yet what then is the point of writing something no one will ever read? What rationalization can be presented for the public grants, endowments, tax exemptions, and tolerance if no outsider ever benefits? How can you ever argue that professors aren’t just a priest class removed from yet supported by society? It’s an obligation to write in a comprehensible style. I earned very good marks in graduate school — I even enjoyed it! — but the writing was the most difficult for me. I hated the writing.

I shouldn’t complain, though; general-audience historians are the main beneficiaries of this system. Leave the professorial witch doctors shut up in their temples, burning their incense and scrutinizing their chicken bones. I’m more than happy to author the books they never will.

Priorities

Leafing through my local newspaper, it’s hard to decide what to be more outraged about. There’s the fact that Hartford, in its omniscient wisdom, determines the number of taxicabs allowed to operate in the town, and that requests to increase this number due to the new train station (the first on the New Haven line in a century) have been ignored. Or there’s the town’s Board of Finance rejection of $102,300 for a back-up generator for Town Hall:

McCarthy Vahey asked Director of Public Works, Rich White, why it was important.

White said that if power went out during a winter storm and pipes froze, which could happen since the building is old and has little insulation, the pipes aren’t easily accessible because they are in plaster walls.

[First Selectman] Tetreau said the building not only had the tax collector and tax assessor’s office, but also the Registrar of Voters, and pointed out that the entire state almost didn’t vote in the last election because of power outages from a late October snowstorm.

Generally I’m a spend-as-little-public-money-as-possible kind of guy, but archives and records are fundamental to transparent and functional government. A back-up generator for a building built in 1794 to protect that foundation against the double whammy of, say, an unseasonal snowstorm or a direct hit from a tropical storm and a fire is a reasonable expense.

But no. The measure was voted against 5-2. However, you’ll be happy to know the Board of Finance did vote to spend $105,000 to repair bunkers at the town-owned golf course.

Learn to Stop Worrying and Love the Sunday Sales

This morning one of my Twitter tweeps circulated a Change.org petition asking Connecticut governor Dan Malloy to reject retail liquor reform:

The Connecticut legislature recently introduced a bill that will endanger your local, independently owned wine and spirits shops. Governor Malloy would like you to think this bill is only about allowing Sunday sales, but its impact is much greater than that. Rather than protecting small businesses and their employees, this is a nod to out-of-state big-box stores such as Wal-Mart, Target, Costco, and major supermarket chains.

Under Governor Malloy’s proposed legislation, supermarkets, big-box stores and even gas stations could go into the package store business. … Seven THOUSAND Connecticut residents would face unemployment, and hundreds of small, family-owned package stores would be run out of business.

Background if you live outside the state: Connecticut is one of only two states (the other is Indiana) that doesn’t allow retail sale of alcohol on Sundays (you can still go and have a drink at a bar, though). You might think this is a throwback to our Puritan history — as I originally did when I was a newcomer — but you would be wrong: every few years, a proposal to allow Sunday sales takes flight only to be ack-acked from the skies by the Connecticut Package Stores Association, a powerful lobbyist group. Package stores argue that Sunday sales would give supermarkets and other venues an unfair advantage since they are already open on Sundays, so they have little if any extra operational costs; whereas if package stores have to open on Sundays to compete with them, the packies have to bear an extra day’s worth of wages, heating, electricity, etc. The ban on Sunday sales is plain industry protectionism.

There are several flaws in the CPSA’s argument, the most obvious being their muddy math. Opponents of Sunday sales contend that currently Connecticut experiences 7s worth of sales spread over 6 days. In other words, sales of the alcohol consumed on Sunday is distributed over the rest of the week. By opening Sunday sales, they say, consumption and sales will not increase but instead be spread over 7 days (so 7s over 7 days), thereby increasing their operational costs for being open on that seventh day with no new profit to show for it.

This is zero-sum thinking. It assumes we’re seeing the maximum amount of sales there can possibly be in the state.

What Malloy and others are saying — and I happen to agree — is that while this may be true for the interior of the state, along our outer rim what we’re actually experiencing is 6s worth of sales over 6 days, and in fact an extra 1s of Sunday sales goes to liquor-license holders and governments in Massachusetts, New York, and Rhode Island. With Sunday sales, consumers will no longer have to run for the border. So instead of experiencing 6s over 6 days, Connecticut will see 7s over 7 days, reaping the profits and tax revenues resulting from that extra day of business. Put another way: Sunday sales will actually benefit the very same people who oppose it. The proponents’ calculation, albeit probably exaggerated, concludes s = $500 million.

Even if supermarkets and box-stores were to offer wine and spirits, what makes the petitioners think they would suddenly sweep their shelves clear of dog biscuits and detergent to stock anything more sophisticated than Yellow Tail and Jack Daniels? Right now, Connecticut supermarkets sell beer six days a week. But shelf space limits the selection to common denominators: Coors, Bud, Corona. Samuel Adams and Sierra Nevada are as artisanal as it gets. BJ’s already offers wine and spirits, but with a like lack of choice; I assume other wholesale clubs are the same. The beer selection at Whole Foods is comparable to a packie but you also pay an extra few bucks per six-pack for the convenience. And you can forget about cider at any of them. Yes, package stores would lose some sales to these markets — just as they already do with beer six days a week. Yet they persevere. Mrs. Kuhl patronizes her favorite shop because of their wine selection and recommendations; I go to another because of its variety of cider. In an America where urchins sold hard lemonade on every street corner, there would still be a niche for stores with diverse inventories staffed by knowledgeable people. It’s called selection and service.

As it turns out, the Connecticut Package Stores Association suddenly agrees that Sunday sales aren’t the industry death knell they’ve always said they are:

The longtime lobbyist for the package stores, Carroll Hughes, said that Malloy’s far-reaching bill could cause hundreds of package stores to go out of business if all of the proposals are approved by the legislature. By agreeing to support Sunday sales, Hughes said, he would focus on blocking other aspects of the bill that would harm the package store owners.

The CPSA instead wants to stop supermarkets and big-boxes from going full liquor and to limit selling hours for everyone. It’s classic negotiation, Lemon. By making vast demands, Malloy has forced the CPSA to submit to one aspect of the free market in exchange for other protectionist safeguards. All the governor has to do now is concede backwards to what he wanted in the first place.

A Sea Read for Your E-Reader

Samuel Smedley, Connecticut PrivateerSamuel Smedley, Connecticut Privateer is now available for Kindle. Other electronic formats, including Nook, should follow shortly.

Here’s the book description:

At age 23, Samuel Smedley became captain of the Connecticut state ship Defence during the American Revolution. He captured more than a dozen prizes, survived smallpox and shipwreck, saw his home burned to the ground by the British, and was twice caught and imprisoned by the enemy. And while he commanded two crews of “gentleman volunteers” — privateers — Smedley learned his profession onboard the ship Defence. But was there really a difference between the state navy and the privateers? With Smedley at the helm, what began “for the Defence of the sea-coasts” of Connecticut soon transformed into something else.

Why not celebrate Presidents Day with a little Rev War history delivered to your Kindle super-duper quick? Only $10!

Update: Now available for Nook.

Everybody’s a Critic

io9 posted a list of the 10 Worst Mistakes That Authors of Alternate History Make and as you can imagine, I have some notes.

Like everything at io9, the article is confused and garbled: we’re informed of mistake No. 8 — Ignoring historical factors that were important at the time, even if they aren’t important to your story — in which Cherie Priest is marched to the woodshed because she forbears detailing the minutiae of 19th-century railroad rights in Utah — but then we’re told about mistake No. 2 — Explaining too much. Interviewing a wide swath of alt-hist writers is a great concept and certainly boosts exposure of the genre, but I wish Anders had allowed each author a hundred words or so to summarize his or her approach rather than jam the interviews into the cheesy square hole of a Late Nite Top 10 cliché. Still, the article’s own Worst Mistake is including the advice of war pornographer SM Stirling, who by all means should be completely ignored, if not pushed off a bridge.

A few bread crumbs of wisdom are sprinkled in the actual author quotes by underscoring what not to not do. I most seriously take exception to No. 10: Failing to bring it up to the present:

This is an “uncommon but grievous rookie mistake,” says Terry Bisson, whose alternate history of 1968, Any Day Now, comes out March 1. If you don’t bring your alternate history up to the reader’s present, then you leave out half the fun.

So any alternate history that isn’t set in the 21st century is a “grievous rookie mistake?” Thanks Mr. Bears-Discover-Fire, but you go ahead and stick to your naked book promotion while the rest of us do that voodoo we do.

Alas, when Alt Hist editor Mark Lord tweeted the article, he wrote, “I have to agree with #10.” Guess that’s one market I’ll never crack.