Books

by Bill Hosley

Central Connecticut State University is raising the bar on some important issues that could improve Connecticut's quality of life, national reputation and sense of place. A recent forum on "Considering Connecticut's Identity," organized by the Public History Graduate Studies program at CCSU, was a statewide gathering of academics, museum workers, preservationists and tourism officials grappling with the challenge of shaping Connecticut?s image and reputation in an increasingly competitive marketplace.

The keynote speaker was Prof. Joseph Conforti from the University of Southern Maine, whose insight and expertise in Connecticut history makes you wonder why he's teaching there and not here. In addition to several books dealing with Connecticut topics, his recent and widely acclaimed book, Imagining New England: Explorations of Regional Identity from the Pilgrims to the Mid-20th Century takes up issues we ignore at our peril. Conforti's presentation took a surprising detour that cut to the heart of what makes contemporary Connecticut tick. Conforti questioned how it was possible that a State where Catholics have been in the majority for more than a century has completely excluded the Catholic experience from its history and self-image. He noted that the only State more Catholic than Connecticut is Rhode Island and that "New England is almost as Catholic as Utah is Morman." And yet, Catholicism remains on the margins of our understanding of regional identity. Even the obvious story of the influence of Irish and Italian Catholics on our political culture has been untold. His comments go a long way toward explaining why Connecticut often seems so indifferent to its history. An exclusionary history is certainly less relevant to the audience (more than half of whom were raised Catholic) whose narrative is missing.

Connecticut Humanities Council impresario Bruce Fraser spoke next and recounted his own personal transformation from ivory tower academic to political watchdog and advocate building bridges between the world of ideas and such contemporary human concerns as jobs, economic growth and tourism. Fraser, who has studied and observed the Connecticut scene for more than 30 years, noted that Connecticuters identify more with their towns and regions than with their state. Fraser spoke of the quality of "panfurcation:" (a word I had to look up) as Connecticut's astonishing capacity to divide and divide again things better left whole. It tends to draw us outward rather than together. Fraser observed that, among other things, most residents get their news out-of-state. If you live in Woodstock or Thompson, chances are you read or watch Worcester newspapers and television. Ditto Fairfield County and New York. Even Greater New London is part of a larger "Narragansett region" centered in Rhode Island, while Litchfield County is Hudson Valley-oriented. Add suburbanization and sprawl to the mix and you have a society that, despite the advantage of small scale and extensive transportation infrastructure, is remarkably fragmented and struggles with even the simplest of communal acts. Fraser further observed that it has been almost half a century since anyone attempted to write a history of Connecticut or identify the grand themes that define us. In the absence of larger contexts or unifying messages, Connecticut has become a mosaic of contentious fragments.

Next was Connecticut's recently appointed State Historian Walter Woodward who opened his remarks by acknowledging Connecticut's depth of resources and the "remarkable competence and dedication" of the people who labor in the vineyard of Connecticut heritage. He noted the irony of the state's investing $2 billion in higher education, in part to stop the brain drain, while ignoring the opportunity to infuse young people with a pride of place by incorporating Connecticut into the curriculum at various levels. Woodward, who worked in advertising and marketing before embarking on a career in education, raised the most interesting challenge, imploring us to start by identifying a few big themes in the Connecticut experience that could foster collaboration and teamwork among the visitable attractions and tourism officials.

Discussions that followed were wide ranging and produced some notable observations. State Tourism director Edward Dombraskas described how market fragmentation makes it especially costly and difficult to project our image. Although New Yorkers come seeking a "New England experience" in which stone walls, historic buildings, and heritage museums are a defining attribute, Bostonians apparently feel that there is "nothing in Connecticut we don't have bigger, better and closer." All the more reason to identify big themes and grapple with our image and identity.

It was not long ago that Connecticut epitomized the qualities of New Englandness conveyed so vividly in the writings of Harriet Beecher Stowe and in the art of the Connecticut Impressionists. Like pork, "the other white meat," Connecticut is not a poor man's Massachusetts, but represents a distinct and compelling collection of attributes, experiences and visitable attractions that are eminently marketable. What does New England mean? It's changing, but will always be rooted in an inclusive, authentic heritage that needs to embrace its Catholic/industrial stories as well as the traditional images of Yankee ingenuity, Bible-toting Puritans, rock-rugged individualism and the moral Republic. By developing a strong and compelling image, we not only strengthen our tourism marketing message, but nurture and sustain community and commonwealth. Absent compelling images and a strong sense of place, teamwork, mutual respect and neighborliness are diminished in ways that have an enormous, if not easily measured, impact on our economy and welfare.

Bill Hosley is a history consultant and a Trustee of the Connecticut Trust.

CT Trust For Historic Preservation

by Bill Hosley

The Great River: Art & Society of the Connecticut Valley, an 1985 exhibition at the Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford, Connecticut, consummated the quest that inspired me to pursue of a career in museum work. After twelve years of picking and poking around the antiquarian fields of Vermont and the upper Connecticut River Valley, and after a memorable summer spent studying architecture and decorative arts in Old Deerfield, I became captivated by a sense of the power of place and the power of art and antiques to evoke a sense of place. Object knowledge has been my route to the heart of regional identity.

Aside from its scholarly value or its relationship to the increasingly vibrant "sense of place" movement, The Great River was a fine example of public and private partnership. Our three sponsors, the National Endowment of the Humanities, the Henry Luce Foundation's Program in American Art, and The Travelers Co. Foundation, each contributed in an indispensable way to the creation of what was then the largest and most difficult program of research, exhibition, and publication ever carried out at this venerable old New England museum.

The Great River involved three years of exhaustive field and archival research, which is available on microfilm in the research libraries at Winterthur, Old Sturbridge Village and Historic Deerfield. Influenced by the innovative system of regional analysis first developed by Frank Horton and Brad Rauschenberg at the Museum of Early Southern Decorative Arts in Winston-Salem, research associate Elizabeth Fox (now curator at The Connecticut Historical Society) and I photographed more than 7,000 buildings, objects and artworks, and worked with a team of six research volunteers to carry out a survey and analysis of artisan account books, newspapers, and probate inventories. We ended up with an extraordinary data base from which we selected more than 400 objects to be included in the exhibition.

Our lenders were terrific, ranging from the grand to the obscure, but mostly institutions in the region itself; from the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Winterthur to the Dickinson Public Library in Northfield, Massachusetts. It was a registrar's nightmare, but, once gathered, it was a joy to behold two centuries of regional treasures.

The exhibition was organized in nine thematic groupings, subdivided chronologically. It was first and foremost an art exhibition, and by "art" I do not mean just paintings. But paintings there were -- arguably the best selection of work by New England "provincial" artists since Nina Fletcher Little teamed up with the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston in 1976 to mount Paintings by New England Provincial Artists, 1775-1800. Portraits, landscapes and ornamental painting are rarely brought together to tell the story of the origins of American painting, but that is the story of this region and it is, essentially, the story of American painting at its birth.

The Great River included almost too much furniture, but what splendid examples. Probably our greatest discovery in the furniture realm was the work of Timothy Loomis, the leading cabinetmaker in Windsor, Connecticut, the oldest town in the Valley. Loomis' documented furniture and a remarkable collection of ledgers, practice books and journals turned up on the campus of a private secondary school (Loomis Chaffee) located on the site of a farm first settled by the Loomis family in 1639.

In seeking a full panorama of colonial and early national period arts, The Great River did not overlook architecture and gravestones merely because such works cannot be borrowed or exhibited. We exhibited photographs of interiors and exteriors and of gravestones photographed for us by the artist and legendary gravestone photographer, Daniel Farber of Worcester.

Ever faithful to the traditions of antiquarianism, The Great River featured books and prints, including the first issue of the "oldest continuously printed newspaper in the country," the Connecticut (now "Hartford") Courant, and the first architectural book by an American author, a rare first edition of Asher Benjamin's (1773-1845), Country Builder's Assistant (1797).

Metalsmithing is one of the few areas in the arts where Connecticut and the Connecticut Valley achieved international distinction. Too often, when metals are featured in surveys of the colonial arts, the story begins and ends with silver and gold. Actually, the Valley's silversmiths were not among America's first, best or most prolific. The region excelled in humbler branches of metalsmithing and these were amply presented. Pewter, brass, iron, and weapons were included.

The most sophisticated branch of metalsmithing practiced in the Valley was clockmaking. Eli Terry (1772-1852) is one of the great figures in the history of American invention and industry for perfecting the mass production and, eventually, international mass marketing of shelf clocks made of interchangeable parts. His story was told, as well as that of the man who trained him, Daniel Burnap (1759-1838).

Textiles, clothing, and needlework appeared in abundance, ably chosen and analyzed by consulting curator Jane Nylander. Here, not one of the twenty-plus textile objects featured had ever been published or closely analyzed.

The Great River did not and does not represent the mainstream in American art studies. We won some awards at the time and there have been several successful efforts at regional study via art and material culture that have credited The Great River as an inspiration.

The Connecticut Valley has long been a symbol of the other America, or at least the other New England. Set apart from the dominant cosmopolitan maritime cultures, it was in many ways the first American frontier, a region that quickly moved beyond subsistence to achieve a sense of purpose, comfort, and style. Connecticut Valley art attracted some of the earliest scholars of American art and it has been often compared with the urban and cosmopolitan traditions as something not better or worse, but certainly different.

The Great River made a difference in the life of this region and of the institution that sponsored it. If it also made a difference in the study of American art and decorative art, then we all have the Henry Luce Foundation to credit for making it possible.

About the author:

Historian Bill Hosley is an advocate for Connecticut and New England history and art who was formerly the Director of the Antiquarian & Landmarks Society where he cared for several of Connecticut's premiere historic properties. As a curator at Wadsworth Atheneum, Mr. Hosley organized several major exhibitions including The Great River: Art & Society of the Connecticut Valley (1985), The Japan Idea: Art and Life in Victorian America (1990), Sense of Place: Furniture from New England Towns (1993) and Sam & Elizabeth: Legend and Legacy of Colt's Empire (1996). He has shared Connecticut's stories with hundreds of audiences throughout the country, is a member the Place board of The Hartford Courant, has consulted on PBS and BBC documentaries and has written five books and numerous articles about early New England.

Resource Library editor's note:

This essay was previously published in American Art Review, Volume VII, Number 1, February-March 1995, pages 96-97.

Resource Library wishes to extend appreciation to Elizabeth Kornhauser, Chief Curator of the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, for her help concerning the above text.

Read more articles and essays concerning this institutional source by visiting the sub-index page for the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art in Resource Library.

by Bill Hosley

With the passing last week of attorney Ralph G. Elliot, we lost a classic Connecticut dreamer and doer who, among many achievements, crafted the most compelling case ever made for teaching Connecticut history in our schools.

Ralph has been described as a champion of ethics and First Amendment law and a man who loved newspapers and the printed word. But above all he loved Connecticut. He had an insatiable appetite for its stories and was one of our best storytellers.

I first met Ralph in 1987, when he was chairman of the United States Constitution Bicentennial Commission of Connecticut. Hartford's Ancient Burying Ground was then in the midst of an expansive restoration.

At the Ancient Burying Ground Association's 1987 annual meeting, Ralph presented a paper with a title and message that need to be heard now more than ever: "It's Time To Teach Connecticut History Again."

Ralph said, that until 1978, "state law mandated that `United States, state and local history' be taught in all public schools ... Now all that is required is a course in what is vaguely called `social studies' and a course in `United States history,' which is primarily a civics course ... No longer are Connecticut youngsters afforded an opportunity to learn about the richly textured history of their own state, let alone of their hometowns."

Connecticut, he said, was a microcosm of the United States that could "teach how the nation was formed, grew, suffered and prospered. How much more vividly the lessons of our country's past would come alive, and be retained, if they could be related to people and places within the ready ken and easy access of our students. ...

"Marrying the teaching of American history to the history of Connecticut, and drawing on the deep reservoirs of local and state written histories and the resources of state and local historical societies, our schools could make history come alive as it never can from the tedious conning of arid texts."

Sadly, we're still not there, despite websites on Connecticut history and despite substantial improvements in the quality of what visitors experience when they visit Connecticut's historic sites. (The best, most teacher-friendly Web-based content on Connecticut history is found at www.connhistory.org. Produced by Loomis Chaffee School history teacher Mark Williams, it provides teacher-ready lesson plans tailored to the curriculum.)

The content is there. But until the General Assembly mandates that Connecticut history be taught, it's not likely to happen. Imagine if teachers and administrators were supported by law in their desire to bring Connecticut into the classroom. It could be a great catalyst for life-learning, citizenship and state pride.

I am not fond of more regulations and mandates. But if we don't teach our kids what Connecticut has done and why it matters, Connecticut becomes just another place with a throwaway culture.

State Sen. Bill Finch put it bluntly: "It is puzzling to me why a civilized people wouldn't naturally study their own history. It is sort of a weird form of subtle self-loathing not to study your own past."

His passion is Frederick Law Olmsted, a Connecticut original who transformed environmental stewardship in America and whose Central Park in New York is a national treasure. "We don't teach about him," Finch notes, "or Israel Putnam, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Prudence Crandall, P.T. Barnum, Igor Sikorsky, William Gillette and all the other giants of U.S. history who lived here."

It wasn't always so. Noah Webster and Henry Barnard were early education reformers who played major roles in elevating the quality and character of American education. Both were richly imbued with a sense of Connecticut's part in shaping American history and were not ashamed to promote it. Barnard, who was the first U.S. commissioner of education, believed in teaching geography by having kids map their routes to school. For Barnard, public education was the means of ensuring that the American people remained capable of self-government. It didn't come easy. He eventually invoked the authority of state government to force each district to meet certain standards for buildings, teachers, attendance and textbooks.

It's time to require Connecticut schools to teach about the place that feeds them. Let's call it the Barnard-Elliot bill. It's good for the heart, good for the soul and can't fail to inspire our kids to know and perhaps love the little state that could.

Bill Hosley of Enfield is a former curator at the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art and former executive director of the Antiquarian & Landmarks Society. He is author of "Colt: The Making of An American Legend" [1996, University of Massachusetts Press].

HartfordInfo.org

By FRANCES CHAMBERLAIN
Published: October 18, 1998

THE Antiquarian and Landmarks Society, established in 1936, is Connecticut's only statewide museum-based preservation organization. The 1,000-member society owns or operates 13 historic properties and William Hosley, just gathering steam in his first year as its director, is brimming with ideas about how to make the properties more accessible and interesting, how to draw more interest in tours and how to increase the strength and vitality of the group.

Mr. Hosley, who holds a graduate degree from the Winterthur Museum, Delaware, in American Studies, was chief curator of American decorative arts at the Wadsworth Atheneum for 17 years. There he mounted the notable exhibits, ''The Great River: Art and Society of the Connecticut Valley,'' and ''Sam and Elizabeth: Legend and Legacy of Colt's Empire.''

He moved to his current position in December of 1997, with what he calls ''a real big sense of mission.'' In a recent interview at the society's Asylum Hill headquarters in Hartford, he discussed his plans. Following are excerpts from that conversation.
Q. What are the objectives of the society?
A. Preservation, tourism and heritage. We think Connecticut has a mountain of treasures and people don't always know about it. Maybe, besides Mystic Seaport, it lacks any one big story. George Washington's home isn't here, there isn't the Liberty Bell. But we have historical properties and beautiful old things and wonderful human stories.

We hope we make a valuable contribution to the communities where we operate. We're not the local historical society; we're something else. We're kind of preservation stewards, educators, and we want to have a real public role, if we can, in the life of these communities, and the promotion of interest in old things and fine craftsmanship.
Q. How does the society's role extend into heritage-based travel tours?
A. This goes back to the most wonderful experience I ever had as an educator and curator. In 1983 I developed a program called ''Knowing a Town Through Its Artifacts.'' We did a three-day workshop in Middlebury that just blew people away, it was so cool. There was so much interesting stuff -- workshops, lectures, walking tours and collection studies.

You can go into a community and turn it into a field study classroom, and I'm talking about learning that is fun, visual, sensual, just great. I think it's one of the most powerful ways to learn history, through travel and encounters with artifacts and works of art.

We go beyond the obvious. If you think of Hartford, you'd say the Mark Twain House and the Wadsworth Atheneum, for instance. If we were doing a multi-day program in Hartford, we'd use those extraordinary resources, but they're the tip of the iceberg. Norfolk, for instance, doesn't have a museum, except its historical society, but we've got a day filled with fun things to learn and do, looking at familiar things in unusual ways.

Part of what my colleague, Karen Peterson, and I bring to it is interpretation. We'll go out on the bus and we provide the context. We don't just drive by things, plop you off the bus, and say, ''Here it is, go to it, enjoy.'' We provide the setting, a sense of the social or historical significance.

I love giving these tours. It's kind of a performance thing. I watch the reaction; people just love discovery and adventure. You get them beyond the usual routines of schlepping around historic sites.

Q. Do the travel tours focus on sites where you have properties?
A. Not necessarily, but we're out here in western Connecticut, and in Hartford. The Norfolk trip filled up in a heartbeat. The Hartford trip, ''Making Sense of Place: Discovering the Lost Treasures of Old North,'' was the first one we did.

The ''Adventure Along the Mohawk and Genessee'' trip, scheduled for next April, was inspired by one of our sites, the Hatheway House in Suffield, that was built with money made developing the Genessee country in New York State, one of the first steps in the American story of the West.

The house was arguably one of the first architect-designed mansions after this country became a nation. It was the first documented design commission of a man who became really famous, Asher Benjamin. Oliver Phelps, who commissioned it, was kind of a Donald Trump figure. He went out to the Genessee country. At one point he was the largest landowner in the United States, a real estate tycoon. He ran a land office and promoted people who were interested in settling the West. He made a fortune. He had grown up in Connecticut and built the most progressive house in the state, spent a little while there, then went away and never lived here again.

Q. What other tours are being planned?
A. One trip, ''Patriot Drums: An Eastern Connecticut Revolutionary Adventure,'' to Lebanon, Coventry and Scotland, will take on the Revolutionary War theme.

''Clock, Lock and Barrels: Art and Industrial Heritage in Central Connecticut'' will focus on Bristol, Waterbury, Terryville, Plymouth. It is unbelievable, that whole area, where the clock and metal industries were centered internationally.

Q. What is the status of the annual Antiques Show?
A. I suspended the show in my first month as director. Not because it wasn't a great show, but because of a tidal wave of competition. There are more antique shows in Fairfield County today than there were in the whole country back in the 1960's. Competition is fierce and quality is very high.

In 1999 we expect to come roaring back with the Connecticut Antiques Show. As far as I know, it was about the second antiques show in America. It was one of the premier shows that helped to create the antique show industry back in the 50's.

Q. What do you see as the greatest challenge of the Antiquarian and Landmarks Society?
A. Raising public interest and support for Connecticut heritage. Too often there's a ''been there, done that,'' take-it-for-granted attitude. I don't think there's a more important business now, in terms of our cultural life as a state, than preserving, developing and programming these wonderful places.

They are very vulnerable and a lot has already been lost. History has carried the burden of a certain stigma attached to exclusivity; these old heritage organizations were perceived as private societies that weren't necessarily sure they wanted to share and teach and have a public role. Sometimes they were run by groups that were sort of exclusionary in their membership practices.

We invite anyone and everyone to join and get involved. The bottom line is that we love Connecticut heritage and we want to preserve that and share it with others.

Q. How does your particular background support the society's mission?
A. I was the guy at the Atheneum who couldn't restrain this passion for Connecticut. I ended up totally motivated by regional history.

I did ''The Great River,'' and my swan song, the Samuel Colt exhibit. We made a film for public TV, the book has done very well, and there were wonderful educational programs. It was definitely the crowning achievement of my career there, and definitely something I couldn't surpass in that place.

I became very interested in history, place and heritage, rather than art for art's sake, so this was the perfect job for me, a perfect extension of that passion. I just love it, I could spend full time just poking around.

For the Connecticut Valley project I visited 140 private collections, every public collection up the coast; I probably visited 500 museums.

This society has a transient sensibility. Increasingly people are going to wind up living in places where they didn't grow up. The pace with which mobility has uprooted families and individuals has been astonishing over the last 30-40 years. People are going to find themselves living in communities that they don't know.

What I love about the history business is that we preserve traditions and make them available to everyone and anyone, regardless of background. You, too can partake of the story, you are let in on the secret, become part of the secret. You can feel more kinship and appreciation for the place where you live.

We all need that in our lives, a sense of community, a sense of connectedness. People like knowing their towns and being proud of their communities.

From the New York Times
Article