Post 2 by Sahara: Tours and Learning Lunch

Tours have started to increase for the History Museum of Mobile. Day cares and summer camps bring their students to experience the museum. It‘s so exciting to see young children introduced to history. The students are so energetic and eager to learn. It reminds me of when I was young. I was so intrigued by the older homes in the historic district as me and my mom would travel around the city. Doug, a Museum docent and the leader of the tours, gives great insightful tours. He can reach the young children as well as the older students. The tour group has a variety of ages. Hopefully by the end of this summer I will give tours just as dynamic as Doug. 

 

This week I attended my first Learning Lunch, which is a free program at the History Museum that occurs on the second Wednesday of every month during the lunch hour. A Lecture is given on a selected historic topic. A wide variety of history enthusiasts were in attendance at the lunch. People from all walks of life came to enjoy this experience. You bring a brown bag lunch, drinks are supplied, and you get to hear an in-depth lecture. This month’s topic was “Mobilians Who Built, Served, and Died on the Hunley: Historical Parallels, Errors, and a Little Neglect” by Jack O’Brien, Assistant Professor of Biology, University of South Alabama.

Day 4: The one where Chris threatens hypothetical teenagers 20 years in the future

I have three older brothers. The second oldest, Les, does a lot of freelance work; usually some form of construction. He'll sometimes ask me to help him out, usually if it's something calling for a second pair of hands that don't have the slightest clue what they're supposed to be doing. I've learned a few things working with him like that, such as:

1) I am hilariously terrible with hammers. If I'm not hitting hard enough, I'm missing wildly, and if I manage to do both, the nail is at a 43.7º angle from the surface it was being pounded into.
2) Have I mentioned the "No upper body strength" thing? Because that's come up a lot and I feel like it bears repeating.
3) If hostile invaders from beyond our sphere ever demand that I drill four screws into a board straight and do so in less than five minutes, or they will steal our moon... Well, I hope you all forgive me for ruining romantic strolls along the beach at night. And, y'know, the tides.

I'm not just bringing this up because I like advertising my weaknesses to help some extraterrestrial empire get a new decoration for their homeworld's sky. You remember those panels we were dealing with last time? Today we started hanging them. This is a process that involves a lot of drilling, both of the traditional sort and to put screws in place. Let me just say now that Jacob is a patient man.

Anyway, it's really not all that involved. See, we can't exactly mount the panels straight to the wall. For one, I don't think anyone wants to imagine the process from my last post with the additional complication of having to attach these panels to the wall without any debris getting between the cover and the graphic.* Besides that, though, it just wouldn't be very visually interesting, and that is even more unacceptable.

So, to overcome both of these issues, Jacob has a bunch of wooden panels that he cut. The idea is that one of us would pin the board to the wall while the other takes a drill to the board and brickwork behind. Then, while the board is still held in place and the holes are lined up, we use a hammer drill to punch a masonry screw into place. Then, using a level, we adjust the board until it's level, put in a second hole, and then keep putting screws in until the stupid thing stays flush with the wall. This process can take anywhere from four to six screws, plus a generous helping of cursing the stupid board that doesn't know how to just stay flat like a good inanimate object. Depending on the position, there may be a need to attach a second board using wood screws, which is more of the same, but with even less cooperation from the board.

In any case, once the board is sufficiently perforated, then comes the tape. Strictly speaking, I don't actually remember what it's called because it never occurs to me to read the labels on things, but it is more like putty attached to a red vinyl strip and I enjoy working with it because it justifies getting to legitimately use a straight razor (because that's the only way to cut off a strip once you have it in place). Anyway, this stuff is extremely adhesive, and and can easily hold the text panels up without even shrugging it. Which is great right up until the moment you realize that the panel is slightly askew and then you have to rip the stupid thing down and put up more tape.

But, at the end of the process, you can stand back and appreciate the beauty of a job well done. For, like, ten seconds, because there are twenty-seven more of those things that need to go up and you're going to feel bad if you saddle Jacob with having to hang more of them on his own than necessary in order to keep on schedule.

*This, by the way, would be a "complication" on the same order of those "complications" that kings in fairy tales put in front of suitors when said kings are determined to keep their daughter unmarried. If I ever have a daughter of my own, I consider this due warning for any of her potential boyfriends. You'll need to bring your own drill.

Day 3 Post by Chris: In which our Protagonist, Mr. C----, beats a dead horse

My personal philosophy is heavily influenced by a mixture of the martial philosophies of the early Tokugawa Shogunate and my mother's father's approach to life. That is to say, I tend to favor the idea that when you undertake a task, you should strive to do it with every ounce of willpower you can muster until you have succeeded in your goal or are forced to yield. I have not always pursued this ideal diligently, mind you, but it's something I feel is worth striving for. My grandfather phrased it more succinctly, though: "I don't care if you're sweeping floors, you get up in the morning and you be the best [EXPLETIVE REDACTED] floor sweeper there is."

So, when I showed up this morning and was informed that I was going to be flattening washers to assemble more panels, I just saw it as an opportunity to meditate upon the mysteries of the universe. Granted, the main mystery I was considering was why I'd never developed anything vaguely reminiscent of upper body strength or, for that matter, more weight than I had in the eighth grade. It wasn't particularly strenuous, mind you--I'm just a perfectionist of the worst sort and when I'm told to flatten a washer, more than a few degrees from 0 is unacceptable unless you tell me otherwise.

The telling me otherwise came about an hour and a half or so into the two-and-a-half hour process, by which point I was already over half-way through the amount that I planned to compress. There's some sort of important moral to this episode, but all I can come up with is, "Don't spend five minutes trying to flatten a stubborn washer unless you know that's what you're supposed to do." The applicability of this pearl of wisdom I will leave as an exercise to the reader.

Regardless, the rest of the day was spent on the assembly process. I know I failed to go into great detail last time, but, honestly, that's probably for the best considering (a) that post went on for far too long and (b) this was more involved anyway. You see, because we're bolting these screens over the actual graphic/text panels, that means any dust, debris, or other sorts of material wind up getting sandwiched in between unless we make sure ourselves that they are clean. These panels which we were working with were... well, not as clean as I would have liked.

So, this was the process, in list form.

Step 1: Remove tape binding together panel and cover so that the holes are oriented correctly.
Step 2: Flip the cover off the panel, revealing the beautiful graphic design covered in inexplicable particulate matter inserted there by the Labor Imps so that they may feed off your annoyance.
Step 3: Carefully dust off the graphic panel with a brush, follow up the brush with a cloth, follow up the cloth with a brush. Look at the dust remaining and sigh in annoyance.
Step 4: Having reached a point where removing any further marks would require a wire brush and the very destruction of the graphic this process was meant to avoid, turn your attention to the paper protecting the cover. Remove this paper and--in the process--create enough particulate matter to force you to repeat step 3.
Step 5: Using plexiglass cleaner and a cloth, wipe down the exposed face of the cover before flipping it back over, lining it up carefully so that the holes are once again lined up for the later bolting.
Step 6: Ruin your careful alignment by having to peel the protective paper off the other side of the cover panel. Stand back and marvel at all of the particles that somehow got between the plexi and the graphic between step 5 and now. Repeat step 3, with the additional complication of lifting the plexi and wiping down the interior.
Step 7: Having now passed through denial that there's any more dust, bargaining with the panel to come clean, getting angry with the stupid panels, sadness over your powerlessness in the face of the stupid dust, accept that it's not getting any cleaner and start bolting it down.
Step 8: Remember why you needed to flatten all those washers this morning as you realize that you have less than 1/16 of an inch on which the nut can bite the screw/washer combination. Spend five minutes in a futile attempt to get this magical concordance of threads before trying the exact same combination of screw, nut, and washer in the next hole over and have it work immediately.
Step 9: Do step 8 7 more times.
Step 10: With all 8 screws in place, remember that you were supposed to leave one hole empty for mounting.
Step 11: Having removed a screw, realize that you have the heads oriented incorrectly.
Step 12: The Labor Imps are now satisfied. You may grab another panel and return to step 1 while another group comes in to feed.

Don't let me give you the wrong impression, though. It's actually pretty fun, because when it's all said and done, there's a thing and you built that thing with your hands. Well, I built that thing with my hands. You probably spent your day on Facebook laughing at whatever George Takei posted while I was busy. That's okay, though. If we were all this awesome, who would we all look down on?

That's right, people who don't let pedestrians know they're biking up behind them. Seriously, guys, it's not like "bicycle horns" aren't a thing.

Day 2 Post by Chris: I Have no Nose and... I'm not really bothered by the smell, no.

When I was about 10, my mom used to work a lot over in Baldwin County. Now, I have plenty of older siblings, but by that point, they were all old enough to be off on their own. That meant that, during the summers, she would have to take me with her to work. Which was all right by me: I had a Game Boy and an extensive imagination. For her part, she tried to keep me out of the way of the more caustic elements she had to work with, but these houses weren't always the biggest. What I'm trying to say with all of this is that there's a reason that the smell of laquor thinner has the same nostalgic appeal for me that other people associate with things like "baked goods" or "soul food" or "No, seriously, Chris. What is WRONG with you?" The answer to that question is "a lot", but that's between me and the voices.

The point is, I don't notice a lot of strong chemical smells, mostly because I grew up around them in some form or another. So, when I was half-way through varnishing a bench this morning, it was honestly surprising to me that people were bothered by the smell on the other side of the building.

"Wait, wait," you must be thinking. "First, you were pressure washing; now, you're varnishing furniture? Are you sure you're actually working for the museum and aren't just being tricked into doing someone else's DIY projects?" ...Maybe. Regardless, the bench is part of the exhibit I'm working on, so it's not that out of line for me to be working on it. And work on it I did. See, I've never actually varnished something before, so this was an interesting experience, mostly because Jacob had other work to attend to, leaving me to take care of it once he showed me what I needed to do.

I don't know if you've ever had to teach yourself to varnish, but there's nothing more nerve-wracking then when it starts to dry. Suddenly, you see all of these spots that are still shiny versus all of the parts that have grown dull, and you're suddenly filled with this gut-wrenching terror: "Wait, is it supposed to be drying unevenly? What if I was too hasty and those are the spots it was too thin? Oh, no! What if the shiny spots are where I wasn't broad enough with my strokes and I put it on too thick?! WHAT IF IT'S BOTH?" It's horrible, and I only would wish it upon people who come up behind you when you're walking and they're on their bikes and they don't bother letting you know they're coming because, clearly, all pedestrians have cat-like senses sufficient to hear a bicycle chain at a distance.

...That last part has nothing to do with my internship. I just wanted to use this public platform to let you know that if you do that, you are an awful person.

Anyway, varnishing occupied a solid chunk of my morning, largely because Jacob didn't realize how fast it would dry, so I went ahead and put on both coats. Which I apparently had done correctly, which is a good thing and almost makes up for the half-hour of anxiously staring at drying varnish hoping I didn't screw up the bench. Regardless, varnishing done, I finally got to do something actively related to exhibit construction: assembling panels.

See, because the fort is (a) harder to monitor than the main museum and (b) a permanent exhibit unto itself, the exhibit plan calls for the graphics and text that's going up on the walls to have a layer of plexiglass over the surface. This way, it's protected against both anyone who might toy with the text panels and (to a lesser degree) the forces of nature. And the exhibit we're working on calls for a ton of text panels. The exhibit plan Jacob showed me calls for 28 major panels and a number of minor ones, all of which need to have this protective cover bolted onto them.

Fortunately, we had help on this from one of the other museum employees: a gentleman by the name of Cheston. You ever meet someone and can tell right away that they're able to work twice as hard as the next guy's best day? That pretty much covers Cheston in a nutshell, except he probably also out-friendlies the guy you thought of. Jacob had us assemble three panels, all three of which deal with an interactive display about the fort.

It's actually really neat. The center-piece is a table with a picture of the fort on it (behind a protective sheet, of course); on top of this goes a wood-block puzzle so that kids can learn the different parts of the fort's structure to a combination of handling models of those parts and a convenient guide placed up on the wall (which were the other two panels we assembled). We spent the bulk of the afternoon on that, owing to a combination of the screen being slightly too big for the table's frame, having to manually drive the screws in by hand, and a slight misalignment in part of the wall that threw off our efforts to mount the wall panels.

However, at the end of it all, we had a lovely little corner finished, complete with paint touch-ups to the table... the floor... my hands...

...Yeah, never put me behind a paint roller if delicacy is required unless you have the patience of a saint. Have I mentioned that Cheston is a terrific guy?

Introduction by Sahara

Hello,

My name is Sahara Gary and I am a summer intern here at the History Museum of Mobile's research and education departments. I am working under Curator of History Scotty Kirkland Curator of Education Jennifer Fondren. I am thrilled to work with such talented curators and soak up all the knowledge they have to offer me.

I am a lifelong resident of Mobile. I attended Theodore High School, where I received an Advanced Diploma with Honors. While in attendance a Theodore High School, I was active in Close Up, Junior Civitan, and the band.
I’m currently a student at Troy University in Troy, Ala. While at Troy I have been active in the Sound of the South marching band, Tau Beta Sigma Honorary Band Sorority, History Club, tutoring at the local library, and Conversation Partners (a program to help foreign students become more fluent in English). During my time at Troy I was indecisive in my major. I loved my history classes and finally decided to make my major History with a minor in Social Science. This December (2013), I will graduate with my B. S. in History.

As a history major, the only job option I thought I had was to become a teacher. After talking to my adviser, I learned of the opportunities in museums and jumped at the chance to learn more about this career. By working with Scotty and Jennifer, I can look at my options in public history and education.

I have never felt more welcomed anywhere than I have been at the HMOM. This internship is opening me up to new and exciting experiences. I can’t wait to dive into all the work that is coming my way.

                  -Sahara Gary

Day 1 Post by Chris: Sometimes the Straightest Path involves a Gasoline-powered Water Gun

For most of my life, my mother's worked in post-construction cleanup. That is to say, she goes in and cleans houses after they've been built, but before they've been sold. My father helps her out when he can, mostly by taking a pressure washer to the sidewalks, driveways, and other flatwork of those same houses. When I started high school, I started helping him out and have continued to do so ever since. In other words, there are very few things I that I truly feel I can do without even thinking about it, but taking a pressure washer to something is on that list.

So, when I showed up this morning and the first question Jacob asked me was if I knew how to work a pressure washer, you can probably imagine the mixture of surprise and relief I felt.

Now, to explain this more properly--as it was explained to me--the brickwork up on Fort Conde needs to be resealed. But, that resealing requires the bricks to be relatively clean. For the most part, the cleaning process has been in someone else's hands; it just so happens that he couldn't make it today, and so the task fell to Jacob to get done if he wanted to stay on schedule, which meant that it fell into my hands as well.

As odd as it may sound, I had anticipated something like this and had a t-shirt in my bag. See, part of the reason I wanted to work on Fort Conde is that I figured it would be the part of the museum that was the most "real" as far as what I could expect from the field, and a large part of why I'm doing this is to help me work out if museum work is something I want to set as a long-term career goal. As such, I anticipated something would come up that would possibly require a change of clothes. In that, I was vindicated.

Regardless, it took us about 2 and a half hours to get the ramparts done to satisfaction. At that point, the phrase "soaked to the gills" is apt to describe my condition. Thus, I spent most of my lunch break in the shop bathroom, attempting to dry out my clothes sufficiently to not make damp noises the rest of the afternoon and also figure out what to do with the limp, wet rag that was a t-shirt when I arrived.*

After that, the rest of the day was a series of vignettes into other, non-exhibit elements of Jacob's day, including an excursion to the archives over at Christ Church Cathedral and a trip over to city hall to discuss budget matters. From there, we took a walk-through of the exhibit space I'll be working with for the month (which covers the colonial history of the fort up until its demolition in the 1820's) and a sit-down with the exhibit plan so that I have a better idea of what we're trying to accomplish.

Ultimately, it was a pretty solid introduction, and I'm already excited to come back on Thursday. And besides, any day where you can look back at the end and go, "At least I'm dry now," was probably an excellent day.

*For the record, the answer was what can best be described as "an overly elaborate system of paper towels, folding, and layering" that resulted in my carrying around what could be charitably described as "a bundle" all afternoon.

Dr. Intern --or-- How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Introduce Myself

Hello, all.

I'm Chris, and Curator of Exhibits Jacob Laurence's current minion over at the Site of Historic Fort Conde. I'm currently working on my second bachelor's degree over at the University of South Alabama in History in an effort to actually do something I like with my life. Truth be told, I'm not overly fond of talking about myself, but I guess I don't exactly get much of a choice here.

Anyway, I'm from here in Mobile. Went to Davidson for high school, then went up to Nashville for seven years, four of which I spent trying to get an engineering degree at Vanderbilt. That plan didn't exactly work out--turns out there's an upper limit to where math stops making sense to me and that line is "calculus with more than one variable", which just happens to also be the line you have to cross once you get into your second year of a B.E. I wound up graduating with a B.S. in Engineering Science, which roughly translates into, "I know how to engineer to some extent, but I'm not very good at it."

That was back in 2009, which most of you might remember as the time period when the economy was spiraling out of control and all the poor, stupid "career students" were suddenly thrust into a workforce that valued "actually having had a job before" over everything else. You can probably guess where I fell on that spectrum, but I managed to jump from temp job to temp job for a while, relying on a combination of blind luck and... Actually, it was pretty much blind luck.

Regardless, about a year ago, I realized I wasn't really getting anywhere, my lease was up for renewal, and my girlfriend had finally graduated from college and moved back home for a while. So, I decided to just bite the bullet, move back here, and see if I couldn't get a degree in something I liked. That gets us to now. I wrapped up my first semester of coursework over at South, and managed to actually see all A's, which is a phenomenon I haven't experienced since I was a spry young man of 18. I'm going to be working with Jacob on Tuesdays and Thursdays during the month of June.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "But, Chris, your style, rugged good looks, and self-deprecation have won my heart already. Why not the whole summer?" Well, in addition to being a career ne'er-do-well, I'm also an amateur tabletop game developer (translation: I like playing Dungeons and Dragons), and I'm going to be traveling up to Connecticut in July to promote a book my friends and I wrote, Kickstarted the printing on, and actually sell through their site. Then, I have some other traveling to do to make sure that I'm nice and happy before tearing into classes next semester--which will involve way more paper-writing than any sane man should have signed up for--most of which involves being a nerd against a different background.

But, worry not. We still will have some good times together before then. Well, I'll have some good times. You just get to watch and I'll do my best to amuse you while telling you about all the cool things I get to do that you don't.

I'm nowhere near this classy in real life, but, I also don't have a lot of photos of myself. I'm the one with the beard.