I once wrote a social history of my local regiment and that required considerable ‘negotiation’ with the regimental representative- mainly as he was an elderly man who didn’t really ‘get’ what a social history was about. He has to be persuaded that people were interested in costume/ changing working conditions [aka health, food, pay]/ women with the army, and was obsessed that my extremely brief summaries of military engagements were exactly as he imagined- which also meant that I spent 10x as long re-writing the two wars he personally fought in, but he had almost no quibbles about the rest of the 300 year history of the regiment. I also had a two-page bio of a member of the regiment at the end of each chapter as an example of a ‘typical’ representative of the period discussed- and he wouldn’t let me use the one based on oral history of a WW2 vet as his version of where he was on various days didn’t match with the ‘official’ account [despite the fact this wasn't even discussed in the 2 pages]- he was ‘lying’ so I couldn’t use him. Sigh.

Then there are the various encounters I have had with the owners of private family archives…

Also, I casually asked a very nice archivist on my recent research foray into a new archive whether most of the (elderly) people in the archive were doing genealogical research, and she replied that that was 90% of the archive’s patrons. She further explained that it was a very typical hobby of retired people in that country, to whom it gave a routine for their days, a reason to get out of bed and get presentable, and a sense of purpose and accomplishment. I think that’s kind of nice.

But no: they should not yell at you.

I do think he may have been the resident crank and that you are right about everyone else’s response.

Ellie is right that local people are very invested in the idea that slums/slavery/sexism/name-your-oppression were not so bad in their neighborhood. I always try to calibrate the local politics before I admit much about what I’m actually working on. It’s a difficult balance: local volunteers know the collections very well, and they can save you time if they want to. Or they can waste your time by trying to persuade you that you just don’t understand what their town was REALLY like.

At various points in my research, which has taken me from tiny local archives to big national institutions, I have been verbally dressed down by: genealogists who find my professional interest in their deeply-politically-incorrect-by-today’s-standards ancestors to be a personal attack, since most professional historians today focus on the evils done to the former neighbors mistreated by said ancestors; by historians of the mistreated neighbors who find my interest in their mistreaters to be a personal attack, since nobody could possibly be interested in them except out of political sympathy; by archivists in the archives of the now deeply-embarrassed government of the mistreaters, who would like the whole terrible and now-embarrassing business to GO AWAY VERY QUIETLY; by local archivists who like to believe that their particular corner of the world was not involved in the mistreatment in question, and therefore can’t see any use in my digging through their papers for evidence of their involvement; and (in hilarious faux-whispers) by older, male researchers who find “those young American women” to be flighty, unserious and above all, “constantly TALKING” about matters that don’t concern them.

Because the history of this particular case of mistreatment is still very much a live issue for both sets of former neighbors and because most historians of their shared past see the writing of history as a political act (rescuing the various parties from the condescension of posterity and all that), all of these individuals equate research interest with political identification.

He would have been out the door that very minute!

Mamie, you withstood that assault with more grace than I would have mustered! What a tool, and probably a tool suffering from status anxiety when he saw you in the library on real business. At the very least, I would have said, “thanks so much for your opinions, but remember, YOU asked ME what I am doing. I didn’t ask for your considered opinions on the worthiness of my topic.” I also might have asked him where he worked so that I could show up at his job and abuse him while trying to work.

I wonder if that guy was a resident crank whom everyone was studiously ignoring because it’s easier than talking to him or trying to reason with him? Imagine the poor librarians and archivists who have to deal with him! (Although his assault on your legitimate topic really demanded an intervention from someone in a position of authority at the library.)

I explained I was looking at an enslaved family, which drew the question, “Why would you do THAT?”(I’m pretty clearly not black.) I replied that the research was part of my job. “What job is THAT?” “I write books about history.”

“You’re a PROFESSOR!” came the accusation, which I did not deny. The patron then launched into a loud diatribe about how I was wasting taxpayer money on slaves. (Remember, we are in a library. Everyone looked. No one said, Shhhhhh.)

I considered explaining that I had a research grant funded by a private donor, so no taxpayers were harmed in this undertaking. But I guessed it wouldn’t matter. I kept my head down and tried to pretend I was still concentrating on the book in front of me. He ranted on for several minutes, then left. No one said a word to me.