It is interesting how the focus of leisure has changed among social historians to include elements of working-class leisure. In Eight Hours for What We Will: Workers & Leisure in an Industrial City, 1870-1920 by Roy Rosenzweig. Rosenzweig first offers theories as to why labor historians have traditionally shied away from studying leisure as an academic subject, citing the silliness and frivolity old-fashioned academics associate with the subject. After referring to these types of intellectuals as "narrow-minded,' Rozenzweig continues to use the town of Worcester, Massachusetts to discover what constituted pastimes and amusement for Worcester workers by asking three questions. The first asks what have been the traditional values among the American working class, the second asks about the character of interclass relations in America's industrial communities, and the third question asks how class culture and relations changed from the nineteenth century to the twentieth. By examining these questions, Rosenzweig believes that a town like Worcester "offers the best opportunity for capturing workers' lives in all their complexity." (Rosenzweig, 3)
The first two sections of Eight Hours for What We Will are concerned with the saloon and the effect of temperance on workers as well as the use of July Fourth celebrations "to mark out [Worcester's immigrants'] cultural distance not only from the city's elite and native middle class but also from fellow immigrants. (Rosenzweig, 65-86)
Eventually, Rosenzweig writes about how interrelationships of workers led to the rise of a leisure market, an outgrowth of both the saloon and Fourth of July celebrations. One of Rosenzweig's main arguments is that the development of amusement park, continual importance of saloons as leisure arenas, and the beginning of a film culture were all a gradual process that grew with the Worcester community itself. Less a study on the nature of leisure, Rosenzweig effectively indicates how leisure is transformed within the bounds of a working class community.

A must have! Being a new student to the museum studies field this book's importance can not be understated. The editors collected 15 essays from the most predominant scholars in the field of museum studies. If you do not know who they are you will after reading this book. The book provides a great indrodution to all the problems, or another way of saying it philosophical thinking ,that goes into developing museums and exhibits. Once you read this book you can concentrate on a specific area, but this book is a great overview.

"The Park and the People" is an exquisite work of scholarship. I've read much about the park but nothing approaches the depth of knowledge and insight contained in this extraordinary book. It's provocative, exciting, extremely well written, and downright readable. I learned something new on every page and simply could not put it down.

The book takes a completely different view of our nation's history from the late 1800's through the late 19000's than the average history text book most of us read in high school. Side bars and tid bits add anecdotal highlights to the information covered in that section or chapter which keep it relevant and interesting. It was very refreshing to see things from the bottom up. i.e. What was happening with this or that wave of immigration that caused the City's and Urban areas to change in this way, that caused the political and religious environment to change in that way, that caused this person to be elected, that caused this law to be passed, that caused this backlash, that led to this conflict, that led to this resolution. Instead of - this war was faught and this official was elected and this country won. It is biased towards labor and labor's role in building this country, so if you want traditional conservative history, this isn't the book for you. But if you like to read some of the stuff they don't tell you in high-school history 101, this is it. I'll never look at labor disputes or the immigration question the same way again. I came away from the book with a greater understanding and retained more of how we got to the 21st century in America from the 19th century.

When I saw this book, I bought it straightaway, because labor history gets short-shrift in American society. I'm sorry to see it's out-of-stock, but am unsurprised.

While this book is fairly mainstream in its orientation, it is very readable and thorough, covering the struggle of working people through the late 1800s to the early 1990s.

I consider this book a good starting point for people interested in working people's history. What makes it especially rich is the narrative flow and personal stories that appear throughout it, and the sidebars with songs and other miscellaneous information. This is the way a history book should be written.

Who Built America? Is an excellent look at US history in the 20th century from the foundation up. The authors provide relevant and insightful information about immigration, the working class, unions, and the political and military events that shaped our country. The events are thoroughly discussed in terms of cause and effect, and followed through with anecdotal side bars and highilights. Because the text follows a contextual historical line, the information is readily understood and retained. Who Built America? was used as the assigned text in a US History class I took. While I read it willingly as assigned in the class, it is a book I have returned to on numerous occasions since. I highly recommend Who Built America? for everyone and anyone who would like to know not just who was elected when, and what wars were fought with whom, but why and how it effects every one of us.

There is much to learn from Presence of the Past but notnecessarily what the authors have in mind. Rosenzweig and Thelenpurport to give us good news about the historical consciousness of the American people, finding that most Americans are, in some way, "connected to the past." They do this by defining down the definition of history to mean things like talking with relatives, keeping a diary, collecting antique motorcycles, and even attending Bible classes. History teachers become the heavies because they insist that students regurgitate historical facts about which average Americans express a profound lack of interest (although paradoxically they also say that they would like their children to have the same experience).

It's as if those who bemoaned the mathematical illiteracy of the American public were suddenly challenged by a survey noting that virtually all Americans could read house numbers, tell the time, and make change while using a calculator. These hypothetical respondents would probably also criticize their teachers for burdening them with irrelevant information.

Because the majority of the Americans surveyed for Presence of the Past have little sense of history outside their family or group, their knowledge of broader history is both sketchy and distorted. Rosenzweig and Thelen celebrate the fact that Americans put more trust in museums than in books for their knowledge of history, but such a faith only demonstrates naivete about museums. (In the wake of the Enola Gay fiasco at the Smithsonian and a subsequent symposium of articles in the Journal of American History, one JAH reader noted that the "true tragedy" was that "both sides believed that the people who saw the exhibit would be swayed, unquestioningly, by the 'facts' presented to them and that the visitors would not stop, even briefly, to think of possible biases in the exhibition itself, let alone about WWII-i.e. that they would think critically. Unfortunately, because of the state of education in this country, I agree with them.")

Using such a low common denominator to define history also reveals that those with the most congruent view of the past are "evangelicals" (defined by Rosenzweig and Thelen as Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses as well as Protestant fundamentalists and evangelicals). Thelen notes that the appeal of evangelical religion is so powerful "that it seems the most likely common ground on which some respondents from different cultures can recognize each other." "What," asks Rosenzweig, "does a largely secular group like historians have to say to them?"

The authors' greatest fear is that the "privatized and parochial past" of their informants will not support history as "a vehicle for social justice" or inspire people "to work for social change in the present." Not to worry. Ignorance, parochialism, and naivete are a fertile soil for those who wish to use "history" as a tool to promote social and political agendas. "Black Athena" and its kin are only a recent example.

Awareness of one's own past is helpful (we often call it maturity), and extending understanding of the past to the lives of one's relatives is even better. But without an appreciation of the broader past, democracy is in danger. Much of what passes for present truth is, in the words of C. S. Lewis, "merely temporary fashion. A man who has lived in many places is not likely to be deceived by the local errors of his native village: the scholar has lived in many times and is therefore in some degree immune from the great cataract of nonsense that pours from the press and the microphone of his own age."ÿ

In recent years it has been popular to lambaste the American as unlettered in history; gullible and vulnerable to the whims of the popular media. Rosenzwieg and Thelen take issue with this assertion through the results of their survey of popular American attitudes and perceptions toward history. In deference to the positive, they crafted their survey to discover what Americans do know about their past, and which aspects therein possess special meaning to the individual. Through their findings they hoped to locate a common ground that would engage both scholar and layman in the search for understanding in history.

Rosenzweig and Thelen found that many Americans regard the past as a well-spring for moral guidance and personal identity. In contrast to the professional historian, it is less the specific event (e.g. World War II) than the familial tie (e.g. grandpa going off to war) that determines relevance and interpretation for the layman. For many Americans history is alive and ever-present: through keepsakes, family lore, and observations. It is subject to an unending reinterpretation and definition, and, most importantly, it is what defines aspiration and identity.

Rosenzweig and Thelen also found little to suggest homogeneity among Americans in historical interpretation. In areas such as ethnicity and religion the variance was profound. Their findings suggested that such identifications influence meaning and interpretation, and speak of divisions within American society. This was particularly true in comparisons between the reminisces of European Americans, African Americans, and Native Americans. In some areas of history (e.g. slavery and the westward movement), there appeared little ground for a broad and unifying consensus.

Is there a paradigm that would unite scholar and layman? Rosenzweig and Thelen suggest it may exist in popular history, a form of historical presentation steeped in relevance to the individual. This 'democratization' of history would spring forth from a productive dialogue between the layman and the scholar. In the view of Rosenzweig and Thelen, the professional historian is wont to wallow in esoterica and narrow specialization. While impressive, such research does not engage the layman; instead, it perpetuates the popular perception of history as a dry compendium of dates and facts. Rather a productive dialogue could draw both layman and scholar in a common pursuit.

Does this mean that history is alive and well in the United States? Unfortunately, the optimism effused from Rosenzweig and Thelen's study provides little room for comfort. Despite their stated intention to survey a cross section of Americans, the design of their survey provides evidence they fell short of this goal. Asian Ameicans were under-represented, as were people living in multi-ethnic neighborhoods. Also, socio-economic status did not receive the attention it merited; previous studies have found correlation between socio-economic status and knowledge in many fields, including history. Yet, Rosenzweig and Thelen have provided both scholars and laymen with food for thought as to what direction history should be taken.

In "The Presence of the Past: Popular Uses of History in American Life," Roy Rosenzweig and David Thelen approach the subject of what history means to Americans in the course of their everyday lives. Through a nationwide survey, funded by the NEH among others, the authors seek a fundamental set of common references across race, gender, age, income, and education. Their findings indicate that Americans, across these aforementioned demographic characteristics, see history in light of a personal relationship. Rosenzweig and Thelen propose that a participatory historical culture exists and can co-exist with the traditional in this fundamentally historical culture. Recognition and empathy, resulting from "active participation with history as a process of inquiry and exploration," (p. 182), are vital elements in connecting people with themselves and others, as well as their past, present, and future. The "Presence of the Past" asks not only what purpose does history serve, but who will best record it in order to make it approachable. Americans responded to questions regarding trustworthiness of sources by consistently rating highest those willing to consider various points of view in presenting history. Museums, personal accounts, and college professors rated far higher than sources viewed as influenced by economic gain such as books, movies, and television programs. Oral histories played a significant role in giving history a personal connection as many respondents named not only family members but those who experienced situations first-hand as highly realiable sources while recognizing the limitations of time, memory, and bias. Rosenzweig and Thelen suggest that Americans themselves are, in fact, very comfortable recording and personalizing history in a variety of ways. This book encourages readers to redefine and expand their interpretation of not only what history is, but what it is good for. The standard of the traditional view of history out of a high school text is challenged by the inclusion of seemingly unconventional and unorthodox applications such as the use of inherited recipes at family gatherings, photography, hobbies, collections, gathering of genealogies, visits to museums and historical sites, reminiscing at reunions, re-enactments, and other escapist jaunts. Americans dispute the assumption that history is an ethereal manifestation that is to be beheld rather than experienced. Thus, this is a subject field that should be used and not just studied. According to the observations of the authors, content lacks connection without participation. To Americans, history is that which affirms a sense of self. The pursuit for roots, identity, and immortality emerge as the ultimate focus for the study of history. A need for a sense of placement within a framework of self, family, community, time, and therefore, immortality, seemed to be at the core of Americans' interpretation of what history is and should be. Personal, family, community, cultural, ethnic, religious, and national identities determine singularity as well as mutuality as barriers fade and blend with a changing society. Yet, "choice and invention," (p. 57), reflect not only standard history written by scholars and scoffed at by interest groups, but that personal history validated by individuals. Unsurprisingly, there were inconsistencies in certain voices. Evangelical Christians, noted for their dedication to the teachings of the Bible as an historical document, accepted such histories as authoritative, yet refuted others, such as the evolution of dinosaurs. A Virginia lawyer insisted the "most reliable is eyewitness testimony," (p. 94), when in her own court of law such testimony is not enough to insure a conviction. To individuals, choices as to what is most credible and acceptable to their own view of the world determine their personal identification with history. Thelen mentions that, "Hobbyists chose the arenas and terms of participation with the past," (p. 196). Perhaps this serves as an autobiographical comment for the authors as not only Americans, but historians also chose particular paths. The relevant questions asked in the survey reflect fresh directions historians seem to be following in their pursuit of knowledge and understanding. It is encouraging to find scholars such as Rosenzweig and Thelen willing to cross into and encompass other fields of study such as anthropology, psychology, and sociology in the clarification of man's relationship to and use of history. In separating cultural,ethnic, and racial characteristics for such a study, certain generalizations and extrapolations are inevitable. While Mexican Americans have a special position the history of the United States, they are not necessarily representative of all Hispanics, as was similarly noted in the study of the Oglala Sioux in respect to other Native Americans. And, unfortunately, the blatant lack of inclusion of Asian Americans ignores another large part of the population. However, in the realms of historical research, it is an eye-opening and encouraging study. Moreover, the fact that its findings promote further subsidy of public and non-profit association projects reflects well on the NEH's choice of funding. Regardless of the occasional typographical error, this work is reader-friendly, successfully bringing the allegedly dull subject of textbook history out of the classroom and placing it firmly in the hands of everyday Americans. With refreshing perpectives, Rosenzweig and Thelen present the consciousness of individuals and groups in such a manner that enables the reader to identify with this personalization of history and entice him or her with the ordinaryness of the observations and conclusions.