by John C.F. Luzader
“History may be divided into three movements: what moves rapidly, what moves slowly, and what appears to not move at all.”
—Fernand Braudel, French historian (1902–1985)
American costumed historic interpretation is far from being a new field. Since immediately after the American Revolution, living history events have been a regular aspect of special anniversaries and commemorations, entertaining millions with their presentations.
By the end of the 19th century, the American public was familiar with enthusiastic bands of amateur historians who regularly presented re-creations of our American history.
These interests continued into the 20th century with re-creations of Revolutionary and American Civil War battles. New themes based on Western expansion included programs devoted to the centennial of the Lewis and Clark expedition, 60th commemorations of the Oregon Trail, the Gold Rush, various statehoods celebrations, founders’ day activities, and an assortment of local interests and regional topics. With interpreters dressed in period-like costumes, these activities usually involved the same basic elements: a battle re-creation, craft and lifestyle demonstrations, house tours with period-like costumes, docents, and costumed balls. Rarely did these activities include on-field, first-person campaigns, minorities, or women other than in a subsidiary aspect to a male-dominated presentation. From 1900 to the 1940s, these types of programs rarely changed or progressed at numerous sites across the United States.
Cade family members prepare for a Civil War reenactment in Richmond, Virginia, in 1923.
However, during this slow-moving period of the field, we also saw the development of Plimoth Plantation and Colonial Williamsburg as premier cultural and historic sites in the United States. It was these sites that soon became the standard for other groups and sites to equal in quality and accuracy and whose historic film presentations were seen in school rooms across the nation.
With the advent of the commemorations of the American Civil War centennial, the nation began to take on new dimensions in living history.
Beginning in the mid-1950s, more and more groups, primarily centered around men’s muzzle-loading organizations, began to expand in numbers. Far from the sporadic peppering of groups found in regional locales, the nation began to see formations of groups of military reenactors organizing and training to participate in the planned centennial celebrations scheduled for 1961–1965 in Civil War battlefield sites nationwide. Towns and cities across the nation were participating in a national celebration of this momentous period in American history. This movement created a number of significant contributions to the American living history scene.
First and foremost were the numbers. Battle re-creations during this period were not limited to a few dozen men or members of the National Guard representing major battles and conflicts. Suddenly, hundreds of men were making themselves available for these living history events.
Second, this period saw the beginnings of new and better material resources for historical interpreters. The field saw the move from rayon and nylon military uniforms and handmade equipment to a discipline that could find numerous suppliers of re-created clothing, equipment, patterns, documents, monies, and firearms. This new and improved equipment was augmented by magazines devoted to the history of the Civil War with quality articles on battles, leaders, and resources for the general public and the enthusiast, as well as numerous reprints of Civil War regulations, literature, and logistical paperwork.
Next was the beginning of a new aspect of living history; the families of the men involved were taking a larger interest in the field and were accompanying the men to events and participating in historic activities. Small in number at first, families became a common sight at most living history events by 1965.
National agencies such as the National Park Service and local museums and historic sites began utilizing costumed interpreters as a regular feature in their presentations.
Finally, the interest generated by the activities of the centennial of the Civil War created large groups of people who wanted to continue doing reenactments beyond the Civil War centennial and in a variety of different fields and themes.
From the late 1960s, the field of costumed interpretation grew quickly. National organizations that had started in the 1960s, such as the North-South Skirmish Association, were being joined by other groups that specialized in numerous historic subject matters. Interest in the period of the American fur trade, which had had a small following from the 1920s, suddenly blossomed. Large national groups featured their own publications and regular gatherings (rendezvous) across the nation. By the mid-1970s these groups where recruiting large numbers of followers and their families.
Increasing the interest in living history was the advent of the American Bicentennial. Organizations like the Brigade of the American Revolution generated profuse numbers of like-minded and enthusiastic “history buffs” who immersed themselves in re-creating not only the battles of the conflict, but also the daily life styles, crafts, and cultures that were common to the time period they were depicting. Towns and cities across the nation began sponsoring historic events and activities to illustrate not only the nation’s history, but also the heritage of their own locales. Nationwide groups flourished with a common interest—the passion of our past.
The 1970s saw the National Park Service, which had been involved in on-site living history costumed events from the 1950s through the Civil War re-creations of the 1960s, make major commitments and contributions to the field through training, research materials, interpretive manuals, publications, and improvements in firearm training standards.
Colonial Williamsburg and Plimoth Plantation moved from third-person interpretive formats to first-person interpretive formats, giving each site a more believable presentation to the public. Other large national sites followed suit. Fortress of Louisbourg in Canada, Conner Prairie in Indiana, Sutter’s Fort in California, James Towne in Virginia, and Fort Ticonderoga in New York became some of the premier living history sites in North America, setting standards that many others emulated.
However, even as this interest grew, many sites and organizations became stuck in many of the same activities that had originated in the early years of the 1910s and 1920s—a heavy reliance on craft demonstrations, firearm demonstrations, parades, balls, and other activities that did not necessarily reflect an accurate or authentic illustration of the periods that were being represented. Professional historians criticized the unprofessional and inaccurate presentations that were abounding throughout the country, labeling many of the activities as faddish and more suited for the stage or movies than for historic sites. This stigma would plague the field for over three decades.
The late 1970s through 2000 saw an even more fervent growth in the field of living history costumed interpretation. The Civil War was re-created every five years with thousands and thousands of people participating in events all through the country. The passion of representing this conflict brought more and more people of all ethnic backgrounds into its folds. So much had it grown that by 1998, the 135th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg had more than 37,000 participants from all around the world. For the first time since the actual event, the re-creation of Pickett’s Charge had nearly the number of participants who had taken part in the actual battle.
Guards man the gate at Fort Du Bois, Illinois, during the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial in 2006.
This growth was not limited to just Civil War activities. Sites, museums, and individuals illustrated the historic lives and conditions of the Americas from tribal activities; first contact; the colonization of the United States by the Spanish, French, and English; the French and Indian War; Trekking; the American Revolution; the War of 1812; the Mexican-American War; Indian Wars; the Spanish-American War; both World Wars; the settlement of the West from the 1840s through the 1890s; the cowboy era; the fur trade; the birth of women’s rights; Afro-American progression; Exodusters; and the list goes on and on. From the famous to the unknown, there are few aspects of the American past that are not represented in some shape or form in a historic costumed venue.
This does not cover the groups from coast to coast that represent the Renaissance through fairs. Others portray characterizations that are not limited to the histories of the contiguous Unites States; World War I and World War II German troops fight regularly at battle re-creations in the United States. Vikings, Romans, and English Civil War soldiers and ladies can be seen at living history activities and schools. There is no limit to what can be presented by enthusiasts in the field.
From the 1970s through today, the resources for interpreters have grown by leaps and bounds. No longer do costumed interpreters need to use original materials for accurate portrayals. There are now available historic patterns, reproductions, research information, articles, reprints, labels, cans, food stuffs, live stock, manuals, blacksmith items, clothing, camp gear, arms and armor, reproduction music and instruments, reprinted period books, tapes to learn language and song, and again, the list goes on and on.
Internet sites (both good and bad) have created resource bases at a touch of the keypad and offer new media for the exchange of ideas, discussions, and publications that no other period of historic interpretation has ever had.
This is also the period when new organizations such as the Association for Living History, Farm and Agricultural Museums (ALHFAM) and the Midwest Open Air Coordinating Council (MOACC) began holding regular regional and national conferences to exchange ideas, papers, research, and resources.
This period also saw the evolution of many organizations and sites from hobbyist to “para-professional” status with such an emphasis on accuracy that they became major contributors to and resources for historic films and documentaries.
By the year 2000, new interests were initiated with the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial, the Pike Bicentennial, and the forthcoming bicentennial of the War of 1812 and the 150th anniversary of the American Civil War. Each has created new interests and new groups of enthusiastic interpreters.
Where is the field today?
Per Fernand Braudel’s quote at the beginning of this article, the field is an amalgamation of three movements. Some costumed interpretation is static, seeming to be non-moving. Those programs have not grown or evolved beyond the rudimentary aspects of putting on “olde timey” clothing and doing demonstrations. Their programming and events rarely change and the same themes can be seen from site to site. Many do not even know the term interpretation or its meaning.
Others have moved slowly, not wanting to give up traditional programs and events, yet still enthusiastic about new material and historic resources. Fresh and better materials and costumes have been put into place, but the programming maintains the same formats that have been used for decades.
4H Heritage member Bre Villard interprets at Bent’s Old Fort National Historic Site. Photo by Barb Engles.
Yet many are on fire, moving rapidly, training and retraining and wanting to set new standards and improve their presentations. Regular conferences and professional publications provide new perceptions in the field. From “interpretainment” to historic interpretation, quality living history creates a believability factor for its audiences while entertaining them. New concepts are being developed to better meet the needs of an ever-changing audience—living heritage staged presentations, more intermedium resources to give a better picture of the whole of the story, better and more accurate depictions of multiple perspectives of a historic event, and breaking from the box of a white Eurocentric vision to include the voices of all the people involved in a historical account.
Finally, and importantly, our audience has changed. Today’s studies demonstrate that our visitors want accuracy and authenticity over entertainment in programming. Their visit to a historic site, museum, or special presentation is not just for amusement. They come to learn, and to learn accurate material from living history interpreters that they can rely upon to provide authentic representations of the past with a “human face.” Visitors want believability and someone to talk to from an earlier period. They look for education and the human story.
Costumed interpretation has gone through many evolutions—some great, some terribly bad—but it continues to provide a source of interest to the public and opportunities to bring the past to life.
Soon we will see more changes, new themes, and new ideas. Already there are groups portraying the 1960s and the Vietnam War. All too soon someone will talk about “reenacting” the events of September 11, 2001, and how those really weird people of 2009 lived in the “olden days.”
For More Information
Anderson, J. (1984). Time Machines: The World of Living History. Nashville: American Association for State and Local History.
Ecroyd, D. (1990). Living History. Eastern National Park Foundation.
Falk, J. & Dierkling, L. (2000). Learning from Museums: Visitor Experiences and the Making of Meaning. Walnut Creek: Alta Mira Press.
Krugler, J. (1991). Behind the public presentations: research and scholarship at living history museums of early America. William and Mary Quarterly, 3(48), 347-386.
Kuegler, D. (2005). Living History im amerikanischen Westen, Verlag fuer Amerikanistik. Germany.
Leon, W. & Piatt, M. (1989). Living history museums. In W. Leon and R. Rozenweig (Eds.), History Museums in the United States, A Critical Assessment (pp. 64-97). Urbana and Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press.
Moscardo, G. & Pearce, P. (1986). Historic theme parks: an Australian experience in authenticity. Annals of Tourism Research, 13, 467-479.
Saxe, D. (2009). Living heritage: an experimental model mixing heritage and entertainment. Journal of Interpretation Research, 14(1).
Stover, K. (1989). Is it REAL history yet? An update on living history museums. Journal of American Culture, 12(2), 13-17.
Sussman, V. (1989). From Williamsburg to Conner Prairie: living history museums bring bygone days to life but not always accurately. U.S. News and World Report, 107(4), 58-62.
Wilkening, S. & Donnis, E. (2008). Authenticity? It means everything. AASLH History News, Autumn, 18-23.
Living Museums of the West’s John C.F. Luzader has been involved in living history programs since 1961 throughout the United States, Canada, and Europe. John is the 1997 NAI Master of Interpretation, a member of ALHFAM, N-SSA, and MOMCC, and the director of the Cultural Interpretation and Living History section of NAI. Unless otherwise noted all photographs are the property of and in the collections of the author.
Serenity, Acceptance, Courage, and Wisdom
by Mike Speller
About five years ago, our facility was in turmoil: staffing issues, a renovation looming, a little bit of flooding, you name it. My own solution to weathering the storm was employing “offstage” what I’d been unconsciously using during costumed interpretation the previous five years: The Serenity Prayer.
God grant me the Serenity
to Accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
and Wisdom to know the difference.
I am not a particularly religious man, but I know wise words and I know what works. The offstage “storm” passed and I am now in my ninth year doing first-person and third-person history at Isle a la Cache Museum in northern Illinois.
“Andre the River” negotiates the price of an otter pelt with a young trader.
Beyond the outward authentic clothing we’ll take as a “given,” first-person credibility is influenced by the things I must accept—audience, environment, and experience. How I react to them is where the courage and wisdom appear.
Audience
When I started as an interpreter-voyageur, I had 45 to 60 minutes alone each day with up to 50 elementary-age students. Monday could be second graders and Tuesday 10-year-olds. I had (have) no control over who I saw—accepted.
Obviously, I could change how I approached each group. Seven-year-olds need to feel safe with the strange-talking, strangely dressed stranger. Guided imagery for time-travel, slower rate of speech, basic information on the fur trade (or just trading), and occasional participation empowered them.
Fifth graders are a smart audience, not cynical but realistic in seeing “the guy in costume.” Immediate immersion in the time period and persona means immersing them in a situation—doing something—not giving them a chance to be detached/cynical/distracted. That succeeds for me.
Adults can be playful or wallflowers when it comes to interacting at a rendezvous or living history weekend. My voyageur’s persona is sometimes known as “Andre the River”: big mouth, always running. So I have an excuse to talk to everyone as potential trading partner, potential dinner cook, or potential romance.
After initial introductions, I accept what I’m given. Have they responded with a period-correct question? With humor? With a grunt? I continue with all three to their taste. Don’t expect your audience to change. Change your delivery, your topic, or your audience-participation level to make connections. You cannot have credibility without a relationship with the visitor.
For example: In a session with fifth graders, I had a few kids “buy in” to my storytelling. The non-responsive majority still received my attention, my eye contact, and the occasional individual comment to keep them involved in some capacity. After the program, the students created original pictograph stories, and about 10 of 30 were brave enough to share them aloud.
I later found out one of the brave girls had lost two close relatives recently and basically closed herself up until that field trip. Her pictograph tale finally expressed those lost relationships with respect and beauty. That brave girl was one of the “unresponsive” kids.
If I pushed her, tried to make her participate, or change her behavior, would her response have been the same?
Environment
I envy the folks at Conner Prairie (Indiana) and Williamsburg (Virginia), among others, because the interpreters and visitors are immersed in the historic place itself. Parking lots are out of sight, power lines don’t intrude, and signage is discreet.
I accept the fact Isle a la Cache staff must greet students in character yet still within sight of the parking lot, within earshot of a four-lane highway, and amid smells of a nearby coal-burning plant. I accept those circumstances and ignore them at the same time.
My voyageur’s focus is on the “newcomers,” and that attention is reciprocated. If someone’s focus wanders, I don’t dismiss them or berate them, I explain it as best I can in terms of our “world” (for example, a noisy plane is “a goose with gas”) and resume our flow.
By saying it’s not there, you are not accepting the addition to your teaching environment; you’re ignoring the obvious. That’s the surest way to lose respect and credibility.
Granted, you can only explain so much. Changing your perception of the modern item and diverting audience attention are nice alternatives, but at some point you have to address the vocal realist: “You are visiting me in my world. If you respect me, I will respect you. I hope you make the right choice.”
You’ve given them an opportunity to change: Be courageous and join the group mentality (and fun) or accept the literal/modern and get less out of your day.
Obviously, your facility has to make best efforts to create legitimate historic structures, include the natural “wild” landscape, and acknowledge environment is necessary to sustain your credibility.
However, we must also accept varied modern environments when we visit schools as voyageur or native. The best approach I’ve found is “stranger in a strange land.”
Use your wisdom: accept the fact that you’re out of your element. Seek comfort in finding common language, mutual likes and dislikes, etc., between you and your students. Share what you would be doing or were doing in your time before you arrived in their place. By keeping the conversation personal, you avoid “dead air” and the chance for them to try and teach you everything modern in 45 minutes or less.
There may be no good way to explain how you got from your time to theirs (sleeping, conked on the head, canoe through a dark fog). Have the courage to pick one, sell it well, and move on.
Experience
Sorry to say so, but you’re stuck with your past and your personality. If you’re wise, though, you know your experiences are the bulk of your interpretive “toolbox.” Who you are fuels your historic persona.
Portraying a voyageur is serene for me in two ways: 1) I am a professional actor and storyteller, so my confidence as a character/persona is strong, and (2) I memorize lots of information very quickly.
However, if someone asks “Andre” if he ever got burnt in a campfire, Mike cannot draw on that specifically but he remembers he seared the heel of his hand in an oven once. “Andre” can relate that sensation, along with the French profanities, if you like.
Every time I meet a new class, I learn where to pitch my tone and content. Experience should not generate preconceptions. This week’s fourth-grade class may be an unruly “blank slate” on the fur trade, while next week’s fourth graders may know the Chicago Portage site like their backyard. Accept their experience level and change your approach to forge or strengthen their connections to the trade in all its glory.
The catch to first-person historical interpretation is the audience presumption that you’ve experienced your 18th-century New France world from North Pole to South Pole.
It’s accepted that research with primary and secondary sources will give you sufficient information to talk about the period and the region, and to add relevant context for your persona. It’s hoped that interpreter and reenactor peers will help you shop, add to your skill set, and provide moral support. It’s true that personal experiences will give flavor to all of the above.
However, that impressive mental arsenal can be disarmed by one visitor’s innocent question—if you don’t know the answer. Accept your present limitation: An 18th-century voyageur has finite knowledge of his world. No Internet, telephones, or jet planes are there to speed or spread communication. Wisdom is saying, “I don’t know” when you should.
Serenity?
If we want to honor the past, the decisions you make in the future about audience, environment, and experience can gain you relationships, respect, and ultimately the credibility you seek.
Hopefully, I’ve shared something to add to your wisdom. I welcome hearing from peers to gain more wits myself.
Bonne chance and serenity now!
Mike Speller is an interpretive specialist for the Forest Preserve District of Will County at Isle a la Cache Museum in Romeoville, Illinois.