Professional historians tend to have little patience for genealogists. It is not that they do not like what genealogists do. (In fact, I know many historians who are interested in the search for their family roots.). What bothers them is that genealogists, in the quest to fill in another line on the family tree, often have little interest in the historical context that shaped the lives of their ancestors. Moreover, genealogists tend to swarm into certain research facilities and dominate the microfilm readers and the library tables.
During my research for The Way of Improvement Leads Home, I often received e-mails from genealogists–many of whom could really care less about my book or its thesis–wondering if I had run across a specific family name in my research. Another time, when a genealogist sent me some materials from his family research, he lambasted me in an e-mail because I did not send him a thank you note quickly enough. (I did plan on sending the thank you e-mail, but for whatever reason could not get it sent in the 24 hour window he had expected).
Having said that, I relied a great deal on genealogists in writing my book. I could not have constructed my story of Fithian’s family history in the first chapter of the book without their gracious help. In the process I have learned to appreciate these family historians and even from time to time find myself enjoying their ancestral stories
Philip Vickers Fithian was also a genealogist. He was diligent in his efforts to record his family’s history. He recorded birthdates, marriages, deaths, and other vital records. It is tempting to skip over these long and rambling sections of his private writings, but as I read and reread his journals I often wondered why Philip took the time to do this. I concluded that for him the recording of this information served as a “kind of memorial to his ancestor’s search for roots” amid the mobility of the Atlantic world.
I put it this way on pp.11-12
Philip’s scribal habits are a testament to his knowledge of the people who inhabited the place where he lived. Births and marriages, baptisms and deaths–all were windows into the history of Cohansey and its families. They were sacred events worth noting because they confirmed that God was watching over Cohansey, quietly sustaining the lives of the Presbyterian faithful. The act of recording such data, however private, was a celebration of a particular people, soil, and tradition.
So let a million genealogists bloom! (But stay away from my microfilm reader!) When done carefully and with care, their work should be of great interest to historians and they are a testimony to the endless American search for home.
John, like some of your other posts, you’ve sparked memories of my own trip to the archives. I met a whole slew of geneaologists at the New England Historic Genealogical Society (NEHGS) doing dissertation research in 2006 and 2007. Many of the people researching there would lunch together in the break room/leisure area, and, at 31, I was often the youngest in the room by 30 years or so. I heard many great stories, and once my research topic came up, so many people mentioned that they had a minister somewhere down the family line.I only examined manuscripts there–you know, the documents with the distinct 18th century musty smell–and so thankfully didn’t have to compete for a microfilm machine!