My professional experiences of the past decade could be considered its own case study for our working group topic of “negotiation of power lines, economic justice and ethics in public history,” having worked with multiple partnerships formerly as an employee of a government agency and now, as a preservation consultant, in Franklin, Tennessee.
Middle Tennessee is rich in Civil War history. Today, it drives heritage tourism to cities like Nashville and where catch phrases like “battlefield reclamation” and “public/private partnerships” are commonplace in Franklin. However, battle lines, drawn between those who continue to benefit and those who truly negotiate for inclusivity over shared authority, place my practice as a community partner and consultant on the political tightrope between ethics and engagement. I realize my case statement may be unique to our working group; yet, my personal experience may speak similarly to other practitioners grappling with where our own negotiating powers lie within our craft. To begin, I’ll do what public historians do best, tell a story.
Once considered by the National Park Service as a “lost battlefield,” Franklin, Tennessee, is now a leader in public/private partnerships for battlefield reclamation. One-hundred-fifty acres later, land once situated with buildings, a strip mall, restaurants and the economic reality of localized urban encroachment by proposed single family homes, is now lush open space, owned by the City of Franklin, complete with walking trails and interpretive markers. Franklin’s success story was, and still is, viewed as a win for public history. Consequently though, local nonprofits including preservation advocacy groups, historic house museums, government agencies, and academic and community leaders unilaterally leveraged a predominantly singular mission, centered on a narrative of “reclaiming lost battlefield land.” It was broadly believed that this would better tell the story of the Battle of Franklin and, in doing so, powerfully leveraged and negotiated a battle narrative as the sole reason why Franklin’s story mattered. This decision, which ultimately proved to be highly politically charged, relegated inclusivity firmly to the background, and largely undermined the rich multicultural narratives central to why Franklin mattered ‘beyond the battlefield.’
Carefully crafted, and articulately delivered, battlefield reclamation proved successful; people from across the country provided funding for saving dirt particularly at the battles’ epicenter, a cotton gin on land known as Carter’s Hill. Removal of structures and archeology meant raising funds not just for land, but also, rebuilding a known marker on the battlefield. It also meant confronting the reality of antebellum slavery. Messaging became skewed. And, power lines went up. How could a rebuilt cotton gin; a clear, painful representation of enslavement, be overlooked for a battle narrative? At the time, as a newer professional in our field, I looked to colleagues within the preservation community for cross examination of what all outward appearances quickly became an ethically challenging position. Several historians and community leaders were methodically marginalized to the background, just like Franklin’s Civil War history. It became apparent the minority held the power, negotiating all financials, interpretation and reclamation decisions. And for many years, the minority controlled the majority.
Fast forward to just two years ago and the broader, national push for interpreting difficult and diverse history drew the powerful minority back to the majority in Franklin. As conversations reevaluated next steps and negotiations on interpretation returned as the focal point of many discussions, I realized as a practicing preservation consultant the tremendous opportunity to negotiate for diverse and inclusive history. Mastering the art of interpersonal communication and listening skills enhanced my relationships with each of these groups. Silent leadership, resilience and building individual relationships strengthened my negotiating power with heritage groups, historic sites and preservation advocacy organizations, bolstered by their own boards and centralized agendas. Once combative, several groups communicated their former power over the narrative to be pushed by multiple things including tourism, eagerness to reclaim the full narrative could easily be swayed by my recommendations. But, it is incumbent upon me as a practicing public history professional to remain ethically neutral and promote the benefits of blending heritage and history as an opportunity to improve inclusivity and diverse history for the overall health of any organization. As community partners, we have a responsibility to history to permit it to negotiate on its own behalf. We cannot ensure history’s survival if we make it about us and do not appropriately broaden the scope.
In Franklin, newly installed interpretive markers actively speak to the enslaved who lived, worked and died on local farms and plantations. Battlefield reclamation is still going strong; but, the African American story is taking on a new role not only on the battlefield’s open space but also at historic house museums. These museums, though fairly new to a deeper examination of their ties to slavery and the enslaved, are purposefully researching, investing and interpreting an inclusive narrative that is beneficial to their visitors and site. While there is much more to do, as a consultant, I encourage the local historic sites to place shared authority and collective history in the forefront of their interpretive “power line negotiations.” Directing staff and boards to assess ownership of their mission and vision gives stakeholders an opportunity to apply best practices in preservation and affirm to an ethical responsibility to their site, visitors, and community.
Examining battlefield reclamation in Franklin is an ongoing review of control, negotiation, and engagement. However, a new project is looming on the horizon for Franklin and through my work, I am confident we as practitioners and teachers of public history will to encourage and lead historic sites and communities to recognize their shared authority to best address their sites, build ongoing responsive community partnerships and renew commitment to accessibility and sustainability of history.