Conversion

Back in the old days, before digital photography became affordable and accessible, historians would return from an archive carrying boxes filled with photocopied documents or handwritten notes. This paper-based system took up an incredible amount of space and required impressive organization skills to keep from losing critical evidence. Today, historians can keep an entire project inside a tiny laptop computer, but it still takes impressive organization skills to keep from losing critical evidence.

Photos taken on a digital camera or mobile device are stored as a JPEG files. Unlike a .doc file, which can incorporate many pages into one document, a JPEG only contains a single photograph. Additionally, the content of JPEG files are not searchable. For these reasons, I always convert my photos to PDF files. This can be done by "printing" to PDF. In either Windows or the Mac OS, select file > print  and then change the printer to "save as PDF." The file is then re-saved to your hard drive in this new format. By using the Preview application on a Mac or AdobePro on a PC, you can then merge the 100 pages of a survey report you photographed into just one file.

Even better, once your photos have been converted to PDFs you can use OCR (Optical Character Recognition) software to "read" your documents and make the text searchable! This generally only works for typed documents, so it's not an option for PDFs of handwritten 19th century diaries. Even typed documents do not convert perfectly, but it is AWESOME to be able to type "Washington Heights" or "urban crisis" into the search bar on my laptop and call up all of the documents that include these terms. 

I use DEVONthink, my database software (which I will talk about later this week), to OCR my PDFs. There are other free options online, but I cannot vouch for them. I recommend checking out this ProfHacker post for further information on this topic.

Once I've gone through all of these tedious steps to convert my archival photographs into the most productive format possible, I still take pains to clearly label and organize the files within my hard drive. Although I can search for documents by topic or by using highly specific search terms to find a particular document, there are bound to be occasions when the search is unsuccessful (maybe the OCR was inaccurate or maybe the search term is not the exact language used in a document) and you have to find a document the hard way. It's easier to do this when you have neat folders organized by archive, archival trip, or collections. 

Again, it's a tedious process... but it does create an invaluable opportunity for productive procrastination. After a research trip I often return home feeling a bit burned out, and I can recharge for a few hours (... ok, maybe a few days) by converting and organizing my files. I do derive immense satisfaction from expertly nested folders, with no stray files harshing my mellow. 

Write It Down, You Will Forget (I Promise)

Taking thorough, precise notes on archival collections is crucial to the long-term usefulness of your research trip. You may think that you will remember the contents of what you read, exactly what documents you read, and where the documents came from. I assure you that you will not. 

Screenshot of my first page of notes from the NJWB Collection. Copyright of the author.

Each individual has their own process when it comes to taking research notes, but there are two essential tasks that should be incorporated into the process. The first is to record what you have looked at, and the second is to record what you have not looked at so that you can find it again later. Research projects take unexpected twists and turns. A letter to a lawyer may seem boring or insignificant the first time you read it, but it might become a critical piece of evidence when you later realize that the letter's author was involved in a controversial lawsuit. 

My process, as seen above, is to describe the contents of every box and folder that I open. I regularly ask myself, "what will I want to know when I go back to look at these notes?" At the bare minimum, I know that for each document I will need the title of its folder, the date it was written, and the names of the author(s). These are the "vitals," the basic identifying markers for archival material. I will also want to know if I took a photograph of the page, made a photocopy, or decided it was sufficient to summarize the text. 

Sometimes I open a folder and realize that the records inside are not what I expected them to be, based on the title of the folder. In that case my note is brief. I just need to remind my Future Self not to waste time revisiting this folder. My note quickly explains what documents are in the folder and my reasoning for why I don't believe they are relevant. Other times I open a folder and  every single document seems like it was expressly written for me to find all these years later.  For those folder, my notes can go on for pages and pages and pages, endless stream of consciousness reflections on the documents, the stories they tell, the dates and years and place.... 

If I am in a rush--at the archive for a "smash and grab" visit--I usually do not have time to read the documents. I keep a log of what boxes and folders I view, and I write down the authors and dates for each document that I photograph. The one time I failed to do this, I ended up with a set of pictures that I couldn't identify. I didn't know where they came from or why I thought, at the time, that they were important to capture. I assumed I would remember later, but by the following week I was totally clueless. Total rookie move. 

When I have more time, I prefer to read through documents as I go through each folder. Not every page is important or worth noting, but for the documents that help tell my story I make sure to note the "vitals" and then try to summarize the main points or important events that it describes. Sometimes I take down important quotes, especially if the text helps convey the tone of a correspondence or neatly encapsulates the gist of an argument. If I do a thorough enough job of recording these details, I do not need to take a photograph or make a photocopy. I know that if I need to review the original again later, to clarify a point or gather more information, my notes can guide me back to the source. 

After an archival visit or when I finish reading through a collection, I also make sure to write down when the notes were taken. This was recommended to me by an advisor early on in graduate school, though I confess that I can't remember why they thought it was so important to do. To date, it has never come in handy for me, but I'm constantly surprised by the information I demand of my archival notes. I'm sure it will become clear one of these days.

I'm absolutely fried after a long week of research. I was incredibly productive, but that means I have all the more work to do when I return to Pittsburgh. Next week I will write about document processing and share advice on how to organize the giant mess of information that is gathered during an archival trip. It's a tedious process that probably will make for tedious reading, but I hope that it will be helpful to novice researchers who are grappling with this overwhelming task.

Snaps

I'm pretty tired after a long day in the archive, so this will be a short one. Tomorrow I will finally get to the most critical aspect of an archival visit--meticulous note-taking--but before that I want to mention one last policy that's important to check before a trip to a new archive. It's increasingly common for archives to allow researchers to digitally photograph their documents, though policies vary widely and you can't take for granted that archivists will let you snap pictures of every document you want. 

First, why would you want to photograph documents? As I mentioned in an earlier post, a "smash and grab" approach can boost the productivity of a research visit by capturing more information in a shorter time. The researcher forgoes mentally processing the information while in the archive, saving the intellectual work for later. Archivists also encourage photography because it's cheaper than photocopying documents. In order to preserve documents, archivists do not usually allow researchers to make their own copies. The labor is thus passed on to them, and they pass this cost (and the costs of paper and toner) off to the researcher. I once spent $75 on a single archival visit!

Like everything in life, there are distinct disadvantages to photographing documents. For a researcher, the mindless chore of turning photographs into PDFs and organizing them into folders can steal a lot of time away from productive intellectual work. Archivists meanwhile worry about copyright, attribution, and improper use of photographs. Photographs taken in the archive are only for the private, non-commercial use of a scholar in support of their research project; most archives will not let you take photos without signing an acknowledgement that you will not sell or distribute images or infringe on copyright. Additionally, archivists want to ensure that their holdings are properly attributed in publications. They want future scholars to come and look at their materials, and so they ask scholars to apply for permission to use quality reproductions (which they help provide) when they have an article or book manuscripts accepted for publication.The scholar then must include a caption or footnote alongside the image in the manuscript acknowledging they received the permission of the archive to publish it.

To ensure that researchers are aware of these policies, archives that allow digital photography often require their patrons to get an archivist's permission to photograph each collection they use. That way the archivist can check the copyright status of the materials and make sure no restricted documents will be copied. Additionally, archives often ask researchers to keep a list of what they photograph--not necessarily each document, but at least which boxes and folders they came from. This serves two purposes. First, the archive has a record that you took pictures of certain materials in the event that digital reproductions start showing up on the internet. Second, archivists love to see which of their materials are of interest to researchers and what gets the most use! It helps them decide what should be digitized and made available on the archive's website. 

After four days of writing about archives, I'm struck by all of the contingencies that researchers face each time they visit a new library or view a new collection. It can be a stressful process, but also immensely rewarding as it forces you to think quickly on your feet, to improvise, to accept deviations from your expectations. It also seems perfectly appropriate for a historian to acknowledge the contingencies inherent in their labor, for it's the one assumption you can reliably make about the past. 

Researchin'

Sometimes visiting an archive is as simple as showing up. Other times, archives require that you schedule a visit two weeks in advance and provide the exact collections and boxes that you plan to view while there. Like most of life, it's usually somewhere in between the two extremes. 

A mandatory step when planning an archival visit is to check the website for their visitation policies, hours, and whether they require researchers to schedule an appointment with an archivist. Archivists are not known for tolerating chutzpah--it's what makes them so good at their jobs--and researchers must learn the rules beforehand in order to ensure a successful visit. The archive I use most frequently (the American Jewish Historical Society at the Center for Jewish History) does not ask researchers to make an appointment, which is convenient because I can set my own schedule when I visit. 

Every researcher has their own "toolkit," but it's pretty standard to bring a laptop, power cord, and camera to an archive. To preserve the materials, you are not allowed to bring in bags, pens, or food and drinks. I always make sure to drink a big glass of water before my visit so I don't get too dehydrated while sitting in the climate-controlled reading room. The other important thing to know about archives before you go is that they are kept really chilly. I usually wear several layers and bring a large scarf (like a pashmina) that can double as a blanket. 

View fullsize

When you arrive at an archive, staff ask you to put away coats and bags in a designated area. Often lockers are provided. I only bring my laptop, iPad, and scarf into the reading room. After settling down at a table, the next step is to submit a call slip for the boxes you want to view first (unless the archive asked you to pre-submit your requests). The slip usually asks for the name of the collection, the call number, and the a list of the boxes you would like them to bring. It's common for archives to place a limit on how many boxes you can call from the stacks (in my experience it is usually five). Depending on the size of the archive and how they are laid out, it can take 20-30 minutes for items to be delivered to the reading room. 

Archivists are very particular about how the materials should be treated. If you are viewing books, especially older ones, they may only allow you to hold one at a time. If the binding is cracked or the book requires special care you are asked to place it in a foam cradle and to be very gentle as you turn the pages. I rarely use older books, so I confess that my description is based solely on what I've seen other people doing. I try to avoid older materials because they stress me out! Also, I like to look at more recent texts that were written on a typewriter. They're easier (and faster!) to read. It's one of the benefits of studying the twentieth century.

There are also best practices for handling papers. To avoid mixing up folders or papers, archivists ask that researchers only look through one box at a time and remove only one folder at a time. It's very important to maintain the order of the collection, so that it continues to correspond with the finding aid and so that future researchers will be able to easily locate what they are looking for. 

When I open up a box, I identify the first folder that I want to look at and then carefully remove it. I note its place among the files with a marker provided by the archive (it's usually a piece of tagboard or half of an old manila file folder). I carefully place the folder on the desk and open it so that the papers are on the right side. As I go through the documents one by one, I place the read pages face down on the left. This keeps them tidy and minimizes the chances that I damage or rip the paper. When I finish with a folder, I place it back in the correct place in the box and move on, and when I finish with the box I return it to the archivists and request a new one. This process of submitting call slips, looking through boxes, and reading documents continues until the end of the archival visit. 

Making Lists, Taking Names

You don't have to be a genius to become a PhD, but time-management skills and sitzfleisch are essential. Visiting an archive tests your ability to sit still for a long period of time and to finish a task in the amount of time you allotted for it.

Most historians have to do a significant amount of traveling in order to complete a research project; few are lucky to have all of the collections they need at nearby archives. For many historians this is a delightful perk of the job. Unfortunately, it's also the part of the job that takes all of your money. The trick is to find that tipping point between expenses and productivity. 

Finding aids are a useful guide for evaluating how many hours or days a scholar should plan to spend at an archive. Presumably, you would not travel to an archive to look at only a few documents--these days you can pay a reasonable fee to have archivists scan the materials and email them to you, which is cheaper than booking a flight, hotel, and/or rental car. Most researchers travel to an archive after identifying several collections that they suspect could be useful. The more boxes and folders you plan to dig through, the more time you will need for your visit.

Of course, it's not always possible to anticipate what you'll find. Sometimes a box contains exactly what you expected, other times you open up a folder that you thought would be fat with documents and rich with history and instead all that's there is a couple of notecards covered in illegible scrawl. The worst case scenario is planning a multi-day visit and realizing on the first day that none of the collections you planned to look at are useful for your research. The best case scenario is realizing that all of the collections you wanted to view exceed your wildest dreams! 

Even this best case scenario has a downside, though. How could you possibly read through everything in such a short time? Sometimes scholars decide that it's worth it to schedule another visit at a later date in order to finish the work. Then they triage, or prioritize, what to examine first.  

If the archive is especially far away, however, or if you are a broke graduate student who cannot afford a return trip, there is still one good option: the "smash and grab"! The "smash and grab" involves taking pictures on your iPhone of as many of the documents as you can in the short time you have available. In this scenario, you do not take the time to check the documents to see if they are particularly relevant. The modus operandi is to take absolutely everything that remotely relates to the project--the irrelevant stuff can be deleted later! The "smash and grab" method is far from ideal, as it raises your blood pressure to unsustainable heights and creates the tedious follow-up chore of processing photos. It's main advantage, though, is that it allows researchers to save some money on the front end even if it takes more time afterwards. 

Tomorrow I will go into more detail about what happens when you walk through the door of the archive, how historians interact with archivists, and what reviewing documents actually entails. It will be especially fresh in my mind because I will be spending the next two days conducting research at my main archive in New York, and so I hope to render the whole experience in exquisite detail. Stay tuned.