Some Fascinating Encounters on a Research Trip

Thanks once again for taking the time to read about my adventures in researching, writing, marketing, and publishing my book. The world of historical research is almost certainly not as interesting to you as it is to me, but I wanted to share a story about a fascinating and productive research experience that I enjoyed early last month in the hope that you might enjoy it.

Arthur J. Marder was a historian who focused on British naval history in the first half of the twentieth century. His books are extensively footnoted, and many of the footnotes reference “a personal letter to the author” from British and French naval officers. A number of the people I’m writing about – as well as quite a few of their close colleagues - corresponded with Professor Marder while he was researching his books. His collected letters – which were donated after his death in 1980 - now fill 16 archival boxes at the University of California, Irvine (UC Irvine). I really, really wanted to read those letters … but due to COVID restrictions, UC Irvine’s archives were understandably closed to outside researchers for more than a year. When I saw that the archives recently reopened, I booked a flight to California.

I’ve gradually learned that it is not necessary to be a tenured academic or a dedicated historian to gain access to rich, firsthand sources of information. All it takes is the determination to do so, the willingness to follow simple instructions – and the confidence to get over the “who am I to trespass in these hallowed archives?” moments of self-doubt. I still think of myself as a software salesman, so I am both relieved and delighted every time an unpedigreed researcher like me is welcomed by archivists who go out of their way to be helpful and encouraging. It took me a while to appreciate that the very reason for most archives’ existence is to preserve and provide access to the priceless materials of their contributing sources. Those bits of paper are there for us to examine, absorb, interpret, and share the stories they tell.

The pictures below are from my visit to Professor Marder’s archives. At UC Irvine - as well as a number of other archives I’ve visited - the archived materials are stored in sturdy grey cardboard boxes, each about the size of a cakebox, with a large, snug-fitting flap on one end.

Each box holds about a dozen folders, typically sorted by date, by name, or by topic.

Each folder holds letters, telegrams, articles, and other papers. Quite a few of the letters to Professor Marder were written by hand, which sometimes made them a challenge to decipher. Like most archives, UC Irvine encourages researchers to photograph any documents of interest. Since it would have been impossible to fully digest everything in the 16 boxes of Professor Marder’s letters, I quickly skimmed the documents in each folder, taking pictures of every page that seemed potentially interesting or useful. I returned home from California with my iPhone bulging with the 500+ pictures that I took during my 2 ½ days in California.

Richard M. Watt is an under-appreciated historian who I learned about several years ago. In an article about his approach to research, he mentioned that each draft of his book “revealed the holes in his knowledge.” Unlike authors who employ strict and separate research and writing phases, Watt would periodically shift the focus of his research to fill in missing details in his latest draft. “I could never do all my research first, before writing a word, as I understand some authors do. As I write, I understand how much I don’t know, go after it, then fill in more later.” That’s the same approach that I’ve been following. I’m still in the process of harvesting the information I gleaned from the Marder papers, but the materials I’ve worked with so far have already helped fill in some of the gaps in my story with unique personal insights. It was a great trip.

I mentioned earlier that my pilgrimage to the Marder archives was both fascinating and productive. In the fascinating-but-not-necessarily-productive category are the many letters from historical figures that were not directly relevant to my research.

Anthony Eden served under Winston Churchill as Foreign Secretary, and then succeeded him as Prime Minister. Four years after standing down as P.M., Eden was named the Earl of Avon. One of the letters to Professor Marder is signed simply “Avon.” (How cool would it be to be able to sign letters or emails with a quick “Avon”)?!?

There were several letters from John Colville, Churchill’s Private secretary. John Colville, of course, is the name you are most likely to encounter in any of my emails, so even though each of his letters was a denial to a request from Marder for privileged access to Winston Churchill's papers, they were still a joy for me to read.

There was an even more brusque denial of access from Randolph Churchill, who had sole access to his father's papers at that time,

One letter stopped me in my tracks and caused me to utter an audible “Whoa” in the quiet reading room. In his pursuit of intimate details for his book, Professor Marder contacted former members of the British, French, and German navies. One letter was from Admiral Karl Donitz, who commanded Germany’s U-boats in World War II, and briefly succeeded Hitler as Germany’s head of state after the latter’s suicide. Donitz lived until 1980 and was an unrepentant Nazi even after completing a 10-year sentence at Spandau Prison that was pronounced at the Nuremberg trials. I cannot read a word of German, but was fascinated by this tangible artifact from this thoroughly evil man.

I encountered two letters on Buckingham Palace stationery from Prince Philip, signed with a simple “Philip.”

Professor Marder had a lengthy and very chatty exchange of letters with Lord Mountbatten, who signed each letter: “Mountbatten of Burma.”

Historical archives can be fascinating, surprising, charming and occasionally startling. As with the life of Forest Gump and those boxes of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get. In this case, Professor Marder’s archives were all of the above, well worth the wait, and well worth the trip.

Thanks for reading,
Bill