I started my life as a professional historian early.
I once won a $200 savings bond from the local Civilian Conservation Corps alumni chapter for writing the best essay on the history of the CCC. I remember that essay and wince to the depths of my soul. It was like a very empirical encyclopedia article, and every single sentence was footnoted. 89 notes in 3 pages. I still have the savings bond—somewhere. I think it’s in a folder of important papers that I can’t find. I find it about every two years, and decide to keep hoarding it for a rainy day. I think the paper vanished into the transition from actual floppy disks to pretend floppy disks to college to my own computer.
I also won third place in the local History Day contest. That paper had a little more analysis—I think it argued Irish immigration enabled the civil war, which honestly, I still think is a decent argument to come up with in high school (I remember my mother kept wanting me to discuss the irony that the Irish factory laborers were basically enslaved, yet enabled the end of slavery, but I didn’t consider that relevant to the argument). Anyhow, third place was perfect—my paper was honored, but unlike my friend who won second place, I didn’t have to do any more work on it, because it wasn’t going onto the state round of the contest.
For some sort of application where I had to write an imaginary conversation with a figure from American history, I chose Henry Clay. For some reason, I thought his picture in the textbook looked kind of appealing (it might be this picture, although now he looks awfully snarky). And I liked his attempt at making a compromise, I’m big on compromises. I suspect that the total randomness of a conversation with Henry Clay had something to do with my successful application.
1 April 2009 at 6:38 am
Well, if you put it that way, my career as a professional historian ended in 11th grade, when I came in 3rd in the state Dept. of Education history contest. I wrote a long essay on the Risorgimento, about which I knew nothing at all but bullshat mightily about its roots in the Renaissance.
2 April 2009 at 2:35 am
I was so mystified by “ended” until I remembered you are a lit person. š
But I think I was defining professional as “got paid” when I started the post, and forgot what I meant by the end of it.
2 April 2009 at 6:50 am
Yah, I was thinking “got paid” myself (and forgot to remind the audience that I ain’t no historian).
The prize was $50, which I spent on a baggie of dope, as I recall. No wonder no one’s paid me since for doing history.
2 April 2009 at 3:44 pm
Ooh, *cash* money. I don’t even know where my savings bond is.
5 April 2009 at 7:40 pm
Your Henry Clay reference reminded me of an incident in graduate school when I was pursuing my masters in history.
I was sitting around with other history graduate students at a party. One of my friend’s asked me in a low whisper, if I had a favorite president that I was obsessed with. I kinda shamefully admitted yes, Andrew Jackson.
She just nodded and asked whispered “Do you ever dream about him?”
I answered, “I don’t think so.”
She said,”I had a dream about Thomas Jefferson. He was laying in a supermarket in a bed. When I went up to him, he whisper to me don’t ever get married.”
I really didn’t know what to say. I think I went and got another drink.
5 April 2009 at 10:26 pm
What a weird dream! unless this was actually at Mr Jefferson’s University, in which case I suspect the atmosphere would totally stoke things like that.
My other favorite is Alexander Hamilton, though I never dreamed about him.