Monthly Archives: December 2013

I turned to the Big Dude, aka AOTUS David S. Ferriero, who had just greeted me Tuesday evening at the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA).  I exclaimed, “David!!  I’m wearing a suit jacket my Mother sewed for me around 1963!”  A Kennedy-era suit.

Ferriero and I chatted for a few minutes prior to the start of “Camelot in Tune:  Music in the Kennedy White House.”  I’ve been trying to develop an indoor laugh–I am so exuberant when I come to NARA.  So it was a good opportunity for me to practice a “normal” laugh!  (Don’t ask me how I did.)

I have a photo of myself wearing the home sewn navy blue and pale grey houndstooth checked suit two years later, in 1965.  It is in a style associated with Jacqueline Kennedy, First Lady from 1961 to 1963.  She was a style icon to many, including me in my youth.  A photograph from the Kennedy Presidential Library Foundation shows a similar houndstooth wool suit with braided piping that Mrs. Kennedy wore during the 1960 campaign.  The suit my Mom sewed for me shows a Chanel influence, as did many Kennedy-era women’s outfits.   (Think of the pink suit Mrs. Kennedy wore in Dallas on November 22, 1963).

The first photo is a selfie I snapped yesterday with my iPhone.  The best photo I saw yesterday on Twitter carried the apt hashtag of #unselfie.  It was a picture that the Foundation for the National Archives tweeted for “Giving Tuesday” of David Ferriero and volunteers who work at and assist NARA in carrying out numerous archival activities.  Many of them, such as my longtime friend Tim Mulligan (on the right (blue shirt), third row) worked for over 30 years as NARA employees, then returned as retirees to volunteer their expertise.

Last month, I wrote about how hearing John F. Kennedy’s speeches, including his Inaugural address, inspired me to enter public service.  I look at JFK both as the student of government and historian that I am as an adult but I also remember the youth who found him an inspirational figure.  In the year I reached 40 years as a Federal employee, it was moving to be in the McGowan Theater at Archives I yesterday evening.  I had thought the black tie Spielberg Gala I attended at the National Archives on November 19 would be the highlight of the year.  But Tuesday’s musical performance was magical in a different way!  A fascinating panel discussion followed a live performance of Mendelssohn’s Trio in D Minor, which Pablo Casals played at the Kennedy White House in 1961.  The video of yesterday’s performance and panel discussion is available here on Ustream.

I expected to enjoy the music–classical music is what I grew up with and most love.  I’ve attended concerts of classical music in Washington since I was a young child, initially at Constitution Hall and Lisner Auditorium.  Then,  after it opened in 1971, the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.  (And yes, as a National Archives employee, I did disclosure review of once secret taped White House conversations where Richard Nixon discussed the opening of Kennedy Center).

What I didn’t expect was how soothing the live performance was, how completely I relaxed as I sat in the theater.   I simply let go of the workday that had just ended in Fedland, not at NARA, but at the other agency where I now am employed.   I was surprised at how peaceful I felt for half an hour simply listening to cellist Kenneth Slowik, violinist James Stern, and pianist Lura Johnson.

I had started the day thinking about a Tweet I had just seen, a comment by an information professional who separated the “Federal world” from the “real world.”   I just turned away.   And I thought about perspectives.

Officials of Council 260 of the American Federation of Government Employees, which represents employees in the NARA bargaining unit, sent a thoughtful letter to Ferriero on October 31, 2013 about the agency’s draft Strategic Plan.  I was struck by what the union officials said about National Archives’ employees.  “NARA’s employees believe that they are part of something bigger than themselves, and view their labor, at times tedious and repetitive, to be part of the foundation of our democracy.”

That this is so now and was when I worked at the National Archives (1976-1990) explains in part why you sometimes see me write about “my beloved NARA.”  The union letter also pointed to something that I’ve explored at my blog this year, that “access is the final result of a long series of steps that are recognized as the building blocks of archival practice.”

Earlier this year I wrote an essay asking whether a young Ferriero would succeed at NARA.  I concluded he would, if he worked in a unit with good managers who had the wisdom and humility to understand how they fit in to the larger archival enterprise.  And the confidence to let subordinates demonstrate both technical proficiency and creativity.  But as I also then observed in my blog post, I saw areas where the agency seemed to me to be  siloed, conservative or demanding of conformity.   Growth opportunities there, for sure, which I think NARA recognizes.

When I worked at the National Archives, rotational assignments enabled newly promoted archivists to gain insights in to how different agency components worked.   Some federal agencies and departments also make an effort to expose candidates for executive development to different functions, sometimes by “shadowing” the chief and other senior officials.

It is easy to retreat in to silos or CYA thinking.  And let’s face  it, not everyone gets what they should or might out of formal or informal exposure to what others do.  There are complications in some environments in Fedland.  Subordination in their employment of Senior Executive Service officials can be a particularly difficult issue to handle.

I look for but rarely find useful conversations about permanently valuable records of top officials in government, academia and industry.  I don’t know why there are few discussions of executive pysychology at deep levels among people who work in records and information management.   Are they not exposed to it?  Or does talking about  such issues lead down paths that cannot be explored in public?  If the latter, what does that signal about the challenges the records creating officials themselves are facing but not discussing in public?  Does it affect how they view their records, legacies, and present day obligations to their chief?

We Feds rely not just on associates at the deep vertical levels (those in similar jobs in public service) but also at the horizontal (others in different workplaces, including the private sector, who work in similar or affiliated professions).   Sometimes the latter offer  fresh ideas, thoughtful insights, and new perspectives that help us find solutions.   I’ve found some wonderful people outside Fedland with whom I enjoy working through issues on Twitter.

At times, instead of thoughtful help, we face incomprehension or disparagement from outside.  But those, too, can be teaching moments.  The impulse to disparage Federal officials helps explain the inchoate, unacknowledged and unacknowledgeable fears among some senior executives in federal agencies and departments that affect whether they record or save records of their deliberations.   Although very hard to admit to, the fear of being misunderstood, misjudged, or even abused in the press and elsewhere can run very deep.

Although I’ve seen ritualistic disparagement of “the other” in some professional forums, I’m not a fan of it as a way of building community.  What I experienced when I worked for the National Archives was purpose driven organizational bonding.  Countering insularity and teaching people of all ranks where they fit in to the larger enterprise always is worth doing as a tool of effective management.

Last month, the Big Dude wrote a blog post about “Celebrating Passion and Accomplishment.”  David used a passage from the novel, The Goldfinch, at AOTUS Blog to illustrate the spirit of those who serve the nation as employees of the National Archives.    It captures very well how I and many others feel about our work:

“…if disaster and oblivion have followed this painting down through time—so too has love.  Insofar as it is immortal (and it is) I have a small, bright, immutable part in that immortality.  It exists; and it keeps on existing.  And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next.”

I haven’t read the book but I was struck by Malcolm Jones’s December 1, 2013 essay about viewing the painting of The Goldfinch at the Frick Collection in New York City.  Jones observed, “There is something intense, almost magnetic, about this image, something lost in reproduction but completely obvious when you stand before the real thing. The painting, packed mysteriously with a kind of coiled energy, is itself a little like a bomb about to go off.”

The panelists yesterday included Leslie Jones of the White House Historical Association (moderator), Colonel John R. Bourgeois, USMC (Ret.), former director of “The President’s Own,” Edith Mayo, Curator Emeritus, Political History, Smithosonian National Museum of American History, and Kenneth Slowik, Artistic Director of the Smithsonian Chamber Music Society.  They provided great insights and insider anecdotes about music and the visual arts during the Kennedy administration.

In January 1963, the Mona Lisa went on display at the National Gallery of Art, on loan to the Kennedy family.  I was one of thousands of Washingtonians who lined up to see it during the brief period it was on display in 1963.  As I listened to the panel, I looked up on my Smartphone and tweeted to @USNatArchives a link from NARA’s Online Public Access .  It shows the photograph that the panelists were discussing as I tweeted.  The holdings of the Kennedy Presidential Library include one of President Kennedy and Jacqueline Kennedy at the unveiling of the painting.

My way of showing appreciation for all that NARA does.  AFGE Council 260 officials observed in their letter to David Ferriero that “Access is the visible tip to a very large iceberg, even if what we do to keep that tip above water is not seen by the public.”  The way that NARA does business is changing as it is in many cultural heritage organizations.   I hope the esprit de corps my colleagues and present day employees feel is nurtured in the process.  I believe it will!

Malcolm Jones observed of his visit to the Frick to view “The Goldfinch” that “What is indisputable is that the painting has lost none of its power in more than three centuries. If anything, it’s more precious now by virtue of its deathlessness. As Theo says on the last page of his narrative, ‘it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn’t touch.’   Seeing’s believing.”

Seeing is believing.  Seeing in the research room.  Seeing online, when made available by trustworthy repositories using painstaking and well considered processes.  Memoirs and oral history interviews add individual perspective to past events.  But records still are more reliable than lore.

Those of us who value what records teach us about the United States Government cherish those who work to save and make accessible records throughout their life cycle.   By keeping them out of the digital fireplace in their originating agencies.   In the conservation lab where experts work on damaged, deteriorating, fragile, or at risk records on paper and other media.  In processing.  In disclosure review and declassification work and equity holder coordination.   In digitization efforts.

Giving Tuesday was a good day to visit the National Archives where so many give so much every day.  Whether they are salaried civil servants or retirees who as volunteers are giving back to NARA, I cherish all who work on a mission that NARA Chief Operating Officer Jay Bosanko once referred to in one unit as “noble, really.”   Ferriero is right.  All who work to  make access happen, whether the results of their work are partly visible or largely hidden behind the scenes, have  “’…a small, bright immutable part…’ in making it possible for future generations to study and learn from the past.”   That is, indeed, “the true gift of the work” done at the National Archives.