On the
first of two far-too-unknown, unique, and compelling Massachusetts stories
highlighted at the Museum.
Since the
third and final chapter of my recently completed book highlights a couple of
interconnected American stories that should be far better known than they are—not
to spoil the surprise, but let’s just say that this isn’t the
first time I’ve written about these stories; although of course in the book
I can and do go into much greater depth—I’ve been thinking quite a bit of late
about that particular public scholarly question: why do certain American
stories become prominent (or at least remembered at all), while other, equally
inspiring and interesting ones do not? And, even more saliently, what can those
of us who do remember the latter kind do to help them gain more awareness and attention,
more of a presence in our national histories?
The
answer, of course, is likely to be not any one thing but a multitude of them,
the variety of different methods and media through which any story can and must
be disseminated in our 21st century world. One relatively
traditional but still highly effective such method is through the inclusion of
these stories in a Museum exhibition, bringing them directly to public
audiences and at the same time (if the exhibition does its job) connecting them
to other relevant stories and histories, to the many contexts and questions that
a thorough and successful exhibition can highlight. As I wrote in yesterday’s
post, the Jackson Homestead and Museum’s “Confronting
Our Legacy” exhibition is most definitely thorough and successful, and it
does indeed do a great job telling some forgotten, important, and compelling
American stories; in today and tomorrow’s posts I’ll highlight two, one (today’s)
that I had forgotten and one (tomorrow’s) that I hadn’t known about at all.
The story
I had forgotten is that of Henry “Box” Brown.
Brown escaped from slavery at the age of thirty-three, settled for a time in
Massachusetts, and published a Narrative of his
life and escape shortly thereafter; but what makes him truly memorable, what
gave him his nickname, and what serves as such a perfect metaphor for the
lengths to which slaves would go for the chance at freedom, is the manner of
Brown’s escape: sealing himself in a small (3 feet long and 2 feet wide!)
wooden box and having it shipped to Philadelphia. The Museum’s exhibition has
recreated Brown’s box in its exact dimensions, so visitors can climb inside and
imagine themselves making that journey, uncomfortable and in pain and likely uncertain
and terrified, yet at the same time moving with every jostling foot that much
closer to the possibility of freedom. It’s a great way to bring Brown’s story
to life, to carry forward the legacy of his metaphor and his narrative but to
bring them home to 21st century audiences. And it definitely ensured
that I won’t forget Box Brown again!
Second of
these stories, and the last of the Museum posts, tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What
do you think? Any stories we should better remember, and/or any successful efforts
at remembering them that you’d highlight?
7/5 Memory Day nominee: P.T. Barnum, whose most famous
achievements and ideas tended to reflect
some of America’s darker and nastier sides, but who nonetheless revolutionized American leisure and entertainment in a variety of ways.
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