Dealing with the public, part 1. Interpretive Equation

As a historical interpreter, you deal with the public. A lot. Or you should anyways. I have been a Civil War Living Historian for a long time and I find it hard that some of my comrades simply don't want to interact with the public. They will answer questions, sure, but not many are going to get up off their chair and go to talk to a small family unit looking sheepishly at a rifle stack. It is like they are there to camp while the public is there to stare at the 'animals' at the 'zoo'. As mentioned in a previous post, I tend to take my time as a Living Historian seriously enough to see that value of interacting with the public. They want to know more, but sometimes it needs some personal engagement to get them to vocalize in spite of the shyness. If no one will tell them, how will they know? My comrades don't stir, they're "off duty" but I get up and go over to them.



Ryan in tactical position to meet curious visitors who want to know more about rifles.

Go-Go-Gadget Interpretive Equation.



The Interpretive Equation, for the uninitiated but delightfully curious, is a method of interaction with the visiting public. In its long form, it is Knowledge of Audience plus Knowledge of Resource taken together multiplied by Appropriate Techniques, which yields an Interpretive Opportunity. The formulaic notation is (KA + KR) X AT = IO. Starting up to them I'm gathering knowledge of the audience; it appears to be a nuclear family of father, mother, two young sons, and baby in a stroller. The boys are probably most interested in the guns and the bayonets, like most little boys. It is important to note that you shouldn't "dumb it down" for the children, but make it understandable for them. The father may be too. While in transit to their location he ask the boys what the pointy thing on the end is used for; this indicates that he has a level of knowledge of the resource as well. His physique suggests he is not former military, so maybe a war buff. Mother isn't too interested and neither is the baby in the stroller. My guess is that I will probably be talking to the boys mostly. Based on what I observe, that is my basis for the knowledge of the audience I will be working with. If anyone else wanders up to listen to me talk will have to be evaluated on the fly.


I also have knowledge of the resource, in this case, they are looking at the rifle. I've put together a rifle stack for years. I know what makes them stand or fall and which rifle to pick up to demonstrate for the public. I've handled these weapons for years. Re-enactors generally either get a 1861 Springfield rifled musket reproduction or a 1853 Enfield rifled musket. Maybe a handful of 1855 or 1863 Springfields. I have a general idea of effective and maximum ranges, rates of fire, differences, etc. That is my starting point.

Appropriate Techniques can by tricky. I should probably hook them in with what they want. They either want to talk about the rifle or the bayonet based on previous experiences with visitors. Holding the rifle will probably be the highlight. That is an example of participation. Using props is another technique but the opportunity involves a prop so I already have that going for me, although first I should probably demonstrate the rifle; pick it up myself and show the moving parts. They probably won't be interested in a story about the rifles right away. Maybe after a while tell the stories about jamming ball after ball down the muzzle without firing in terror and panic during battle. Using song is probably not appropriate since I don't know any songs about the rifle, it would be awkward, and I don't sing well by myself. But that leads to humor. Humor is great, it relaxes both parties and you can share in something equally. I may make a quip about "boys and their toys" to the mother to bring her in on this too. KA + KN x AT (techniques will likely include prop, demonstration, participation, story).


I greet them and get right to the point. "Would you like to know more about the rifles?" Both boys are excited and affirmative. So I get to a stack of rifles and pick the leaning rifle up. I give it a glance. "This is the 1861 Springfield rifle, one of the many rifles made in the north from the armory in Springfield, Massachusetts." I hold out the rifle for the boys to see first, then the father. But the mother kind of moves in too, so I might not have to work so hard on her after all. "A soldier had to learn to fight with this rifle and learn how carry it." I'm getting ready to talk about how heavy it is and get the boys to feel its weight but the younger boy interrupts.


"What's that?" the older boy asks. He is pointing to the bayonet.


"Ah yes, the bayonet. Boys and their toys, eh?" The wife smirks. "The bayonet is a thrusting blade socketed onto the end of the rifle for use in hand to hand combat. Kind of like a spear." "Cool!" exclaims the older boy, probably louder than necessary. He pretends to stab his brother with his invisible rifle. His father admonished him to knock it off and be quiet. "The man is trying to tell you about it." "Well, there isn't much more to tell about the bayonet. The rifle has a pretty long effective range to it. Previous weapons didn't have that range and took some time to load. So they had to fight closer and massed together to shoot a volley at the enemy, who was also massed the same way. That way they could hit each other. But since it took so long to load and they were so close, the enemy could rush upon them before they could reload, so the bayonet was necessary. But remember now the rifle has a greater effective range. Now they can engage the enemy at a greater distance. If the enemy tried to rush them at 500 yards, we could be reloaded before they made it to us and we would have point blank fire."


"So why did they still have them?" asks the wife. She is getting involved. Good.

"They had them because the tactics hadn't caught up with the weapon technology yet. If you are used to fighting at 100 yards and maybe taking some casualties; suddenly 100 yards is next to murder with a rifle, which can fire farther more effectively. There was some hand to hand use with the bayonet but it was very rare. But it makes a pretty handy tool." Time to do some more demonstrations. I demonstrate the bayonet as a candle holder, a tent stake, a digging tool, a roasting spit, and as a handle on a field modified pan for cooking over a fire.

Time to bring it back to the rifle itself.


"Since I took some time talking about the bayonet, let's talk more about the rifle. Would you like to see how heavy it is?" Then they got really excited. I hand the rifle muzzle up to the older boy but keep my hand on the rifle. Our association created rules about the public handling weaponry so that they aren't disrespectful or dangerous with the rifle, but it is a good rule to have anyway. I keep just enough control of the rifle to be able to take control of it should something happen, but the child is holding the weight. "Ugh! That's so heavy!" Little brother's turn. He can barely lift it and hands it back to me. Dad's turn, he brings it to a ready position but I still have my hand on it, just to the side so he can feel it. He takes aim but I gently admonish him to elevate his rifle at a high angle as I nudge the rifle into the air. There are small clumps of visitors around, and no need to make people nearby concerned that it might be loaded. He hands it back to me, satisfied. I offer to the wife and she gives it a heft.


 Since I have the rifle back, I demonstrate the loading procedure step by step, feigning a cartridge and a cap. Time to throw in some questioning: "Is that a lot of steps to remember?"


“Yes.”


 "Do you think you could remember to all of them safely and correctly in battle?"


 "I could!" exclaimed the older boy; the younger one wasn't too sure.


"There are written accounts of soldiers getting so worked up and excited during battle that they skip steps. I heard of a story at Gettysburg where they found a rifle with 6 bullets [I know they aren't bullets per se, but I am working with the public with something they would understand] jammed in there one on top of the other! What would you do if that was you?" My interpretive question designed to provoke thoughtful responses from the visitors...


Interpreting to students at Harpers
Ferry National Historical Park

"Shoot it!" came the response from the older boy; the younger one wasn't too sure again.

Oh well, maybe a little too young.


"Well, if you come back in a few years maybe we could put you in a uniform and try firing the rifle sometime like I do here at this reenactment."


"Yeah, wouldn't that be great, son?" Said the father, tousling his son's hair. "Well, it was good talking to you." I guess he is wrapping it up for me. "Where is the best spot to watch the next battle?" I give him my best guess of where that might be and wish him and his family a good day.



This example of the interpretive equation illustrates one of countless variable contacts with the public. It wasn't based on a single actual incident, but composites of encounters that I have had with people visiting. It just takes some motivation, knowledge of the resources you have, best figuring for your audience, and using what it takes to make that connection using the techniques that you have learned. It really doesn't take formal training, but the formal training helped clarify what I did in order to make the best of working with the public.

Making Personal Connections

Honest Interpretations

From time to time, I get scheduled to work in the Implements Dealership at Living History Farms. It isn't as awesome as the print shop, or the broom maker shop, at least, initially, but it has a lot of neat things in there. I read through the Site Manual through a month and a half ago, and I don't get many chances to work there so I feel the need to read it when I get a break in visitors to dig a little deeper. This time around I found a excerpt mentioning that the Implements dealer has the ability to interpret the entire farming cycle in one room, whereas the farm sites are stuck interpreting the season, here and now. Also the farms aren't always open during the times when plowing or planting is done, or it may have happened on Monday but visiting on Tuesday. The Dealership has plowing, planting, harrowing, cultivating, reaping/mowing, threshing/separating, milling, and storage tools; a full cycle under one roof. The Implement Dealer interpreter can guide a curious life learner into options for low budget hand tools to glitzy pinstriped horse drawn labor saving machines. The colors of the tools do get occasional mention. The machines are restored to their original colors, or to colors that were typical of the time. I try to make the connection to the modern day by comparing it to cars. A maker makes a certain type of car that all have the same options. But would it sell if it was metal colored, or rusty brown? No! They come in all colors! The primary sources show that the implement dealers then knew farmers would buy an implement if it was green if the farmer liked green, even if a blue or a red one did the exact same thing. Pin-striping and stencil work were also common on them, think of it as being a SE or LE model.

US Dragoon c. 1840's Fort Scott NHP in 2013

But I want to get to the title of the post, "Making Personal Connection". It's very important to make a personal connection with your visitor when they come to your interpretive station and have them make a personal connection to your content. Many of the people coming into the Dealership are farmers or former farmers, or formerly raised on a farm. Many point out the things they had or one of their relatives had or something similar sitting in the shed or someplace. They are interested in it because they have a personal connection. Had I visited a year ago, without any farming background to my name, I might have spent 30 seconds browsing through. If I was feeling adventurous, maybe ask a few questions. I didn't have a personal connection then. Making a personal connection with a visitor to the content can be challenging, particularly if they are young and have no farm experience. I can usually point out a few things there that have a relation to the things they have or do today and I try to be as hands-on as much as possible, especially with a lot of "Don't sit on the machinery" signs around. If nothing else, doing some hands on stuff, making a few modern life applications, and friendly banter is enough to make that connection.

However, the real reason I sat down to write this post is the personal connection I have to the content. When I was doing stationed interpretation at Fort Scott National Historic Site, I didn't have much of a personal connection to the US Dragoons, nor the Guardhouse where I was stationed.
I chose it for the novelty of it. It seemed their male interpreters had chosen to do infantry stationed interpretations and no one had done a Dragoon one for a while and it was another opportunity to learn something new. But there was no personal connection, I didn't have an ancestor ride with them, at least so far as I know.

Reading up on the latest at the Dealership

I didn't have a personal connection with the Implement Dealership either, or so I thought. I had posted a picture of myself in the office at a quiet moment onto a social media site. Mostly for my historically minded friends to appreciate it. However, one of my uncles responded to say that my great- great-grandfather would be proud of me. Honestly, I had no idea what he was talking about and so inquired why the case may be. He sent me a photo of my great-great-grandfather's implement store  and grain elevator in Ramona, South Dakota circa 1913.

The Store is the first on the left of the top photo

I had seen that photo before, but did not have a connection with it. I've been to Ramona once, in third grade, and farming was then foreign to me. So it faded from memory probably written about in a sixth grade family history project, also long forgotten. However, now I have a personal connection to the work that I do at the Implements Dealership. It's now a family thing and a emotional thing as well. Without making the connection too dramatic, it is like being a city kid all your life and getting a job working as a blacksmith at Knott's Berry Farm because the pay was kinda better and finding out your family in a distant state in a distant time were blacksmiths too. It gives an extra spring in your step, I think, or motivation at the very least to going to work if there is a connection to it. Interpretation is about making connections, on some level. There are personal connections with your content at a emotional level, personal connections with your visitors on a human level, and making connections with the visitor with the content to their lives. Make the connections.