In mid-October, I started an internship in the National Park Service’s National Historic Landmarks (NHL) program. I work on NHLs in the National Capital Region (all of DC and parts of surrounding states). Like the National Register of Historic Places (NRHP), the NHL program designates sites and objects of pivotal national historic significance. Unlike the NRHP, the Secretary of the Interior has final say on which landmarks get historic designation. National Historic Landmark designation does not limit the actions of the property owners. It only regulates the actions of the federal government on the site.
One of the main objectives of my position is to increase public awareness of NHLs in the National Capital Region. I do not highlight sites that have received copious attention, like the White House and Mount Vernon. Instead, I choose sites related to minority groups and silenced histories. So far, three articles are on the NPS website. They focus on the homes of Reconstruction civil rights activists: Charlotte Forten Grimké (anti-slavery activist and teacher), Mary Ann Shadd Cary (abolitionist and journalist) and Bruce Kelso Blanche (first full-term black senator). I hope to expand my research to include LGBTQ+ sites. (Check out the NPS LGBTQ+ Theme Study!)
Beyond writing content, there are many miscellaneous jobs for my internship. One cultural resources employee is conducting a study on the history of DC golf courses and asked me to scan some archival files. Sounds boring, right? The next day I held in my hand original letters of Walter White about segregated sporting facilities. Researching NHLs allows me to access a diverse swath of American history. My future tasks include fixing and creating content for NHL plaques.
Both the website and the plaque content must convey their messages with a limited number of words. My experience parallels Beverly Serrell’s discussion of exhibit labels. Each word matters. Less becomes more productive. She explains, “Labels tell very short stories.” [1] I try to heed Serrell’s advice and keep my articles concise, but lively. Other institutions are attempting to do the same. On James Madison’s Montpelier website, small descriptions inform perspective readers how long it will take for them to finish an article. One can choose from a five-minute read called “James Madison and Religious Freedom” to a daunting eleven-minute read titled, “The Life of James Madison.” So overtly displayed, it is hard to miss that “The Life of Paul Jennings,” chronicling a man with a much more fascinating life than his enslaver, Madison, only takes seven minutes to finish. Finally, an NPS web coordinator told my supervisor and I about the Hemingway Editor. IThe application breaks down prose to highlight confusing and unnecessary words and sentences. I now use it for my non-internship projects (like this blog).
The process of website writing is a collaborative one, much like our History 705 projects for the Baltimore Heritage app. Over several drafts, at least two people edit small paragraphs many times. They still miss errors. My supervisor related one editing nightmare from years ago. 20 people reviewed a plaque description for a NHL, but they did not catch the word “symobilize.” A new plaque had to be ordered with the correct word—“symbolize.” Never have I been more conscious of how one typo can affect a whole project. Professional collaboration is of critical importance.
Footnotes:
Footnotes:
[1] Beverly Serrell, Exhibit Labels: An Interpretive Approach (Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press, 1996), 12.
