History

Become a Citizen Archivist

The National Archives has digitized millions – perhaps billions – of pages of their documents. But they’re relying on us to make them more accessible and searchable through their “Citizen Archivist” program.

This effort allows registered users to transcribe and tag documents. There are different “missions” to choose from and can include court cases, military records, presidential papers, and more. A sampling of the current missions include Japanese internment files, Pueblo Indian land case files, inmate records, Navy photographs, and even UFOs! Headlining current efforts are Revolutionary War pension files – a priceless and fascinating resource.

Training and orientation is provided, and if transcription seems too time-consuming or difficult due to the old handwriting, you can still “tag” documents which will help other researchers find information in them. This is a great project to occupy those lonely winter days, cooped up in the house , and every contribution helps.

Excerpt from a UFO report from the U.S. Air Force, 1955.
Portion of a report concerning UFO sighting over Kansas City, 1955. NAID: 310995465. Part of: Record Group 341: Records of Headquarters U.S. Air Force (Air Staff)Series: Copies of the Case Files of the 4602D Air Intelligence Service Squadron on Sightings of Unidentified Flying Objects (UFOs)

Seeking solace in History

It times of national crisis, my immediate personal reaction is always to look back to history for strength, comfort, and confidence.

When September 11, 2001 happened, I immediately thought, “This must be what Pearl Harbor was like.” Peace, routine life – then suddenly attack, death, catastrophe, shock, anger, grief, and overwhelming uncertainty, all in the space of less than an hour.

At the time, I was living in Kansas, and I thought, too, of the citizens of Lawrence, Kansas, on August 1, 1862. People had begun their early morning chores, when gunfire and hoofbeats were heard at the edge of town, rapidly coming closer. Fire erupted at the Eldridge House hotel, and businesses and homes were likewise quickly engulfed in flames. Guerilla leader William Quantrill and his raiders had arrived, seeking vengeance on the town that had served as the epicenter of the Free-State movement in Kansas. I vividly recall reading an account by a woman who saved her husband from fire and execution by hiding him in a rolled-up carpet, hauled out of her burning home and tossed in with some of her evacuated belongings. In just a few hours, over 150 men and boys of the town had been executed, and community was in flames. The population of widows and orphans, many of them now homeless as well, swelled dramatically in just a space of a couple of hours. What had begun as an ordinary day quickly transformed into one of unimaginable loss and grief for this small community. The survivors were devastated.

Contemplating Pearl Harbor and the Lawrence Massacre helped me know that people of the past had been through similar catastrophes and shock like our nation was experiencing on September 11. Like them, in the moment of the time, all that lay ahead was unclear and uncertain. But collectively, we came through it.

It is easy when looking back at history to think that the outcome was secure. We all know how the story ends. Like reading the last chapter in a book or seeing the final episode of a TV series, and knowing everything will work out in the end. But history is important because it teaches me that all of these crises moments of the past were never certain or sure for the people who lived through them. Would Lawrence rebuild? Would the US Navy recover? Could we even successfully fight a war, when equipment, manufacturing, supplies, and personnel were not yet on a fully-operational wartime footing? Now we know the answers. Then, they did not.

Which brings me to today’s historic moment, as we are living it. Full of uncertainty, grief, and sorrow. What gives me comfort and strength is knowing that others before me endured similar circumstances, that seemed equally uncertain at the time. Front of mind for me is the tragedy of the 1918 Influenza Epidemic, which bears many similarities to today.

I also think of the yellow fever epidemic of 1878 in Memphis, Tennessee. It was short-lived but deadly. In two months, over 5,000 people died, and in the space of two weeks, 25,000 residents had fled the city. The financial and population impacts were so great, the City of Memphis had its charter revoked in 1879.

The story of the epidemic is told in great detail by John McLead Keating, in a book published just a year after the tragedy. The cause of yellow fever was not medically understood at the time, and mosquitoes rapidly transmitted the disease from one infected person to another. Memphians were fighting a vicious but unidentifiable and ill-understood enemy. Numerous medical doctors, nurses, and family members stayed behind to care for the sick, and many of them died. The yellow fever epidemic impacted Memphis dramatically for years to come, but then, as now, fear of this unknown disease and its enormous human toll set the population on edge.

What history teaches me is that although this moment may feel unique – it is not. I take comfort in knowing that Others Before Me have encountered similar experiences, with just as much fear and uncertainty. Somehow, some way, they made it through, despite grief, loss, fear and sadness. Despite economic hardship, food insecurity, and powerless politicians. Collectively, they made it through. And so will we.

Related posts:

We’ve Been Here Before, Folks – reflections on COVID-19 and the Influenza Pandemic of 1918.

We’ve been here before, folks

In times of major national crises, I turn to history to bring me comfort.

When Sept. 11 happened, I immediately thought of events of the past that must have been equally catastrophic and unbelievable to those who lived through them. And yet, when all seemed uncertain, when the losses and chaos and catastrophe seemed just too much to bear, somehow, the people of the past and our nation endured.

So I find myself at the same place, today. Reflecting on history, considering what it must have been like for those who lived through it, and taking solace, hope, and comfort from that fact. Two events are front of mind for me these days, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. Today, I’ll write about the first, the great influenza pandemic of 1918.

Flu epidemic of 1918

First, of course, is the influenza epidemic of 1918, also known as the “Spanish flu”. Like COVID-19, it was a worldwide pandemic which spread rapidly, overwhelmed medical resources, and killed thousands. It came on suddenly, raged fiercely, then abated.

To get a closer look at what this must have been like in one American city, I looked at newspapers from Nashville, Tennessee, where my grandparents and great-grandparents were living at the time. What I learned was that what we are experiencing today is nothing new. It is only new in our own lifetimes.

On October 1, 1918, the Nashville newspapers were reporting on cases throughout the state, particularly in the military camps. Especially noteworthy was news from Fort Oglethorpe, near Chattanooga, just over the border in Georgia, where many Tennesseans were sent for their basic training. The director of the Tennessee Board of Health urged the public to take precautions, including not using pencils handled by others, avoiding kissing of the “nonessential type”, avoiding crowds, and urging strict isolation for those who were ill. (Tennessean, Oct. 1, 1918)

Concerns among the public began to grow, as rumors about an outbreak and quarantine at the Old Hickory Powder Plant spread throughout the city. Health authorities countered that this was just a rumor, and besides, the flu spread so rapidly that a quarantine, at this point, would be useless. The work at the powder plant must continue, and needless panic caused by unsubstantiated rumors helped no one. (Tennessean, Oct. 4, 1918)

Nevertheless, by October 8, Nashville hospitals were nearing capacity, and city and state health authorities closed theaters, parks, schools and churches. Ten days later, the number of cases entering hospitals had slowed, and by November 3, life in Nashville had almost returned to normal. Bans on public gatherings were lifted, and movie theaters and playhouses were back to capacity crowds.

In slightly more than a month, influenza deaths in Nashville proper neared 400, out of an estimated 40,000 cases.Another 10,000 cases were reported at the Old Hickory Powder Plant, with a little over 250 deaths. The epidemic had come, raged, and abated, in scarcely less than 45 days.

Learn more:


Influenza 1918, documentary from American Experience

Influenza Encyclopedia: The American Influenza Epidemic of 1918-1919: A Digital Encyclopedia from the University of Michigan Center for the History of Medicine. Includes entries on 50 American cities, and much more.

The Deadly Virus: The Influenza Epidemic of 1918 from the National Archives.