Lifestyles of the Not So Famous

As historians, we are often attracted to the enigmatic figure and the imagery that accompanies this curiosity. The advent of ‘social history’ in the second half of the twentieth century emphasizes this aspect. Historians became interested and involved in the lives of those who some would deem historically ‘insignificant’. However, the minor histories of ‘insignificant’ lives builds a significant window into the world of societies past. It is now popular to delve deep and uncover what little remains of these unknown figures in order to piece together an image of a specific time and space.

We are often interested in people about which we know very little. Imagery serves to further this allure. In my last post,I commented on the Unibroue brewery’s use of French-Canadian heritage to promote their particular brands of beer. In this instance, the key to success for this type of marketing is the use of enigmatic figures. Here, the enigmatic is impersonal which accentuates the mystique. When considering, for example, the icons representing the beer Maudite (the coureurs des bois and voyageurs), images of brave, intrepid and romantic adventurers come to mind. However, these mental images are derived from tangible recreations – by which I am referring to archived sketches, works by such artists as Frances Ann Hopkins, or re-enactments.

To again use the example of Unibroue and the enigmatic figure, I point to the beer, Chambly Noire. A soldier of the Carignan-Salieres stands proud upon the label. These soldiers played a significant role in the survival of the colony of New France in its early days. However, no faces remain except for the romantic images that have been created to strengthen the appeal. This one soldier’s story, at face value, would appear insignificant, but to access it would prove invaluable in the picture that we could draw regarding the collective history. The image becomes representative and having no true identity, the figure becomes larger than life.

In, Who Killed Canadian History, J.L. Granatstein argues that the popularity of social history in academia has served to diminish the study and proliferation of a Canadian national history. Granatstein fears the loss of the great figures and epic events that comprise our political history. Yet, we get a greater sense of our own history and social fabric when we study a past that is personal and emblematic of who we are. We need not disassemble the images that represent the enigmatic to achieve this aim. We should, however, include a micro-history that familiarizes our past in order to give a more complete image. Combined, these figures can be both larger than life, but also understood. For, if we are unable to make some sort of connection, then our historical figures remain impersonal and disconnected from our own collective history.

Reference: Granatstein, J.L. Who Killed Canadian History? Toronto: Harper Collins, 1998.
Image: Canoe Manned by Voyageurs Passing a Waterfall (Ontario), 1869, by Frances Anne Hopkins

History By the Bottle

There’s a beer manufacturing company situated in Chambly, Québec, called Unibroue. What they produce, aside from delectable suds, is public history. When one considers what we do in public history, things such as museums, archives and memorials are what commonly comes to mind. However, I doubt we’ll be doing any readings on the history of beer. The barman’s cough syrup (beer) is something many Canadians do not take lightly. We exude a certain pride in our appreciation and creation of distinct lagers. Aside from this stereotypical image of the stubby drinking hoser (shades of Bob and Doug McKenzie), the brown bottle has another avenue – history, heritage and culture.
The Unibroue company produces various brands of beer, all with their own unique flavour. However, it is not the flavour of these beers that interests us here (and if it is, see Unibroue), but rather, it’s what they are marketing with the beer – heritage. Each beer is named after an interesting piece of history or legend relating to Québec, with an exciting image on the front of the bottle and a little blurb regarding the title’s inspiration on the back. There’s Maudite, an homage to the legend, La chasse galèrie, in which a group of coureurs des bois make a deal with the devil in order to return home for the New Years Eve festivities. Trois-Pistoles, a town in the bas-St. Laurent region of Québec, depicts the church and the legend of its collaboration with the devil, La légende du cheval noir. Don de Dieu is named after, and shows an image of, the ship within which Champlain crossed the Atlantic and was later used to sail up the St. Lawrence River in 1608, founding Québec. The Carignan-Salières, the regiment sent to protect New France during the early settlement days, are no longer a standing army, but they still occupy the minds of the people through the beer, Chambly Noire. There are other beers in this flavour-filled historical line-up that can be seen online at www.unibroue.com. Each beer even gets its own page with a few words on brew methods, taste, and yes, historical relevancy. That’s right: for a brief lesson in important aspects of Québec’s history, just drink a beer. And just in case you were worried about what this beer company may be promoting, there’s even a bottle (Blanche de Chambly) honouring those who fought and died defending Lower Canada during the war of 1812 (challenging the misnomer that the French in Canada were American sympathizers during this war).
So what’s the marketing ploy here? Why decorate beer with heritage? In my opinion, it sells. Popular images of a romantic and harrowing past that remind a collective group of their unique heritage is an inspirational and ‘refreshing’ change from the traditional versions. We Anglophones do it as well. Beers such as Upper Canada Ale and Wellington play the historical card to add heritage to their beers, creating the idea of a traditional beer and appealing to the people of a particular region. I’ll even admit, I feel a little more Canadian when enjoying a frosty Upper Canada Dark Ale. I fancy myself a conspirator in the reform party, whispering of political change and responsible government over a pint in some dark tavern in 1837, not far from York.
What is of most significance here are the many facets in which the practice of public history appears. It’s all around us, whether we make mental note of it or not. Not everyone wants to go to the museum or even read a plaque in the park. As public historians, we must strive to create new and different ways to reach a wider audience. So, I insist you crack a Trois-Pistoles (9%!) dark beer, and enjoy the taste of history by the bottle.


Images from www.unibroue.com

Syrup, Hockey and Canoes

In considering a suitable title for my blog, I finally settled on ‘The Canadian Frontier’, a title borrowed from the late and influential historian, W.J. Eccles. The frontier Eccles was studying was the classic and fluid term referring to the geo-politico-socio boundary of contact and settlement in the ‘New World’. As an undergraduate, my course selections and research interests were dominated by this world. Now as a Public History Masters student, I’m learning to understand Canadian history in a new way and on a new frontier – hence my title. The theme of Canada’s origins and frontier will continue to rest on the back burner of my thoughts and resurface in many of my posts.
Public history as a sub-specialty is a relatively recent frontier in its own right. Public historians often present our past in a nostalgic form to elicit the interest of the general public (see Leffler and Brent, History and Its Audiences). In a sense, the public historian is acting as a promoter of popular culture through heritage (is not a sense of culture in part derived from heritage and history?). There are two fantastic coffee table books written by Canadian author Douglas Coupland, called Souvenir of Canada, (written in two parts). Coupland has arranged photographs, still life presentations, and numerous other images, accompanied by personal anecdotes, informal essays, and descriptions in order to describe a culture that is only Canadian. The images and words immediately elicit familiarity, contentedness and in the end, pride and maybe, if Coupland has accomplished what he intended, a warm fuzzy feeling deep down that only Canadians can feel (no toque is necessary, although when warn, one can include the head in this fuzzy feeling). And this is Coupland’s intention, to push Canadiana on his readers. Now, maybe that’s what makes him a little different from a public historian, in that we’re a little less explicit in our intentions when, say, we mount a plaque describing the awe inspiring statue of an anonymous soldier in Any City Park, Any Province, Canada. (This thought will be drawn out further in a future post).
When Coupland sets up a still life that contains a plastic orange container of Bee Hive spilling onto a table hockey set and in another still life, a photo of a birchbark canoe hanging on the wall, he is saying a lot more than what we may initially think. The only prerequisite needed in order to smile to yourself is to be Canadian. Syrup, hockey, canoes, the cultural significance hits us harder than a slapshot from Rocket Richard. Yet, it is the cultural heritage and history that these items represent which elicit a greater appreciation in, say, a public historian. Afterall, is not Canadian culture one great amalgamation of various co-existing cultures? It just so happens that in this example, canoes, syrup, and hockey are all gifts from our aboriginal friends, adopted and turned into national iconography with its own vast history.
Culture can be a very difficult concept to define and in Canada one might often describe being Canadian as simply not being American. But I say, and I think Mr. Coupland would back me up on this: there’s a lot more to Canadian culture laying just below the ice, if only we embrace and exploit (so to speak) our heritage. And I know many would disagree with me when I put it like that. The upstanding and objective historian that Richard Evans describes in In Defense of History would avoid pursuing a history that corresponds to present intentions, be they political, personal, etc. However, I don’t suggest we start manipulating or deconstructing the past to promote a Canadian culture. I’m merely proposing that history can be used objectively to present a past that can be embraced as culture. Personally, the idea of developing and promoting Canadian culture as a public historian is an exciting notion and I intend to further explore this particular frontier.

References:
Douglas Coupland. Souvenir of Canada, One and Two. Vancouver: Douglas and McIntyre, 2002, 2004.
Evans, Richard J. In Defense of History. London: Granta, 2000.
Eccles, W.J. The Canadian Frontier: 1534-1760. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1969.
Leffler, Phyllis K. and Joseph Brent. "History and Its Audiences," Public and Academic History: A Philosophy and Paradigm. Malabar, Fl.: Krieger, 1990.
Image from Souvenir of Canada

Test drive a blog today: available in sporty green?

After successfully overcoming the daunting task of creating my first blog, I tilt my chair in smug self-approval. Alas, I fear that what seemed to be somewhat challenging, navigating the unfamiliar realm of controlling my own online site, is in reality probably the simplest thing I will do as I face the new age of digital history and the infinite archive. I feel like the aging academic, at the end of his career, facing the push of the technologically inclined youth, longing for the days of pen and paper and the musty smell of old manuscripts. However, I quickly give my head a shake, remind myself of my age and decide to embrace the future and accept my role in propagating the wonders of the computer and it's online archive. At the worst, it gives me an online forum to ramble and write, regardless of whether I have an audience.