by Phil Roberts, 5-9-23
“I’m a REAL historian,” I said with the arrogance only found in a green, first-year doctoral student in almost any field. “I’m not one of those amateur genealogists,” I sniffed.
It was my first visit to the building just across the street from my bus stop and a block from our apartment, assigned to us by UWash student housing on Radford Street, near Sand Point Way, the primary street eventually leading to the University of Washington main campus. My colleagues in the history program and fellow shelvers at the Pacific Northwest room in Suzzallo Library envied my good luck. Just that close to National Archives Seattle Branch! How could you be so lucky? (It doesn’t take much to impress a historian!)
But now, here I was, about to be kicked out or shunned for being stupid and arrogant. Here’s why. After my remark about genealogists, I noticed the name tag on the blouse of the receptionist: “Proud Volunteer, Seattle Genealogical Society,” it read.
My heart about stopped, but I had my wits about me and, In a sudden fit of extreme inspiration, I stammered “Well, that’s what those historian jerks tell you, right?”
The grey-haired woman smiled, handed me a key to a locker and led me into the research room, filled with humming microfilm readers, punctuated by excited shouts of a new discovery of, maybe great-grandpa serving in the Civil War or grandma leading a suffrage march.
I thanked her and took a deep breath as I sat down in front of a microfilm reader. I thought about my close escape and how I pulled off the ruse, just in time. But as she walked away, I distinctly heard her whisper, “And young man, don’t ever claim you’re one of those historian jerks when you’re in here! We try to run a clean house here.”
For the next three years, I spent thousands of hours on dissertation research in that very room, made friends with archivists, researchers and countless volunteers. (I was even shown a box of records, that escaped destruction when the Prohibition Bureau was ended, containing the real inside story of “revenooers” pulling off raids in Wyoming! See “Conducting Investigations: Inside Federal Prohibition Enforcement in Wyoming”) https://wyomingalmanac.com/?page_id=362 ProhibitionEdgerton)
In fact, it was the sharp-eyed discoveries of archivists, like my friend Joyce Justice (and many others of whom I knew later as fellow members of the Pacific Northwest Historians’ Guild), who pulled the historical records that helped this “jerk historian” get his PhD. I had worked hard to earn the respect and friendship from these essential guardians of our history although I suspect they’d help anyone who asked, even “jerk historians.”