Tips on Writing the Biography of a Town
SIGNING A BOOK con tract is an exciting moment for any author, but when it involves preserving your community's past, things can get tricky. When I agreed to write a book for Arcadia Publishing's "Making of America" series about my hometown, Farmington, Mich., I had no idea what I was in for. I took on the project armed with only my laptop and an ability to put words on paper, blissfully unaware that there would be days when I would want to tear my hair out, nights without sleep, endless research, and pictures, pictures, pictures!
Authoring a book about your hometown, or undertaking a similar writing project, presents unique challenges. My advice? Don't try it alone. Build a team. Find people who are good at what they do and let them do it. For example, I made fast friends with our local library's archivist, who knew what information was available and exactly where to find it. She also introduced me to a professional historian who had the knowledge to magically bring old photos to life. For fresh images, I picked the places, and a local photographer snapped them. A solid team can work miracles and relieve some of the pressure.
Ask your local historical society, if there is one, for help, and visit your local library. Tucked away in our library's basement was a "history room" where dusty papers and faded pictures were kept. I got lucky that summer when the library closed for renovations--I had the whole place to myself! Overwhelmed at the surprising amount of information housed there, it only made good sense to start at the beginning. I figured that if this technique worked for James Michener, it would work for me. I learned how the oceans receded from the southern half of Michigan's Lower Peninsula over 12,000 years ago and the glaciers moved in, carving valleys, ridges, lakes and rivers. Native Americans hunted there for centuries, but no one made Farmington their permanent home until Arthur Power arrived from New York in 1824.
Because Farmington was founded almost 200 years ago, I relied on some very old maps, records and books. Biographies and sketches written long ago proved invaluable. When I found conflicting information, I soon realized that something composed during the 1800s or early 1900s was more reliable than a recent piece. Back then, the subjects were either still alive or events were at least still fresh in the minds of those who documented the era. The newer histories cover almost two centuries and, as a result, lack many specifics. It is often those odd facts, forgotten people and intriguing incidents that make stories of the past come alive.
Who knew, for example, that Farmington had its very own militia? Organized in 1831, the Farmington Riflemen were sharp shooters and sharp dressers in their gray uniforms and green-feathered caps. These "minute men" were on call to defend the Michigan frontier at a moment's notice.
As for characters, Farmington was full of them. I grew rather fond of Arthur Power's grandson, John. As a youth, John witnessed his parents' active participation in the Underground Railroad, which sometimes passed through Farmington en route to Canada. According to Power's first-person account, an escaped slave might be kept in the family barn and then hidden in the back of the hay wagon his father drove down to the docks of Detroit. The fugitive then was ferried across the Detroit River straight to Windsor, Ontario, "where no master's hands could be laid on him."
And then there was the startling FBI report concerning a Japanese incendiary (balloon) bomb. During World War II, the Japanese launched thousands of these bombs, hoping they would float across the Pacific and wreak major damage on American soil. Most of them fizzled out over the ocean, but one deadly balloon bomb killed six people in Oregon. A few were found off the coast of California, while some reached Wyoming and Montana, but a local Farmington resident never expected to discover one in his garden. The FBI was summoned, and it was later confirmed that the farthest-reaching Japanese balloon bomb had indeed landed in Farmington.
Glean information from diaries, letters and newspapers. Eyewitness accounts of life in early Farmington always brought me a little closer to the past. Arthur Power's son, Nathan, kept a detailed diary. He wrote mostly about life on the farm, but in between the cows and the weather his heartfelt words depicted the times. Nathan described his 1865 trip to Washington, D.C., to attend the funeral of Abraham Lincoln: "This was the most melancholy event ever happening in our country. The wail of feeling and sorrow was deep throughout the land."
Personal letters, like voices from the past, provided insights into the many hardworking people who lived in the area. A farmer and devoted father, Theodore P. Howard, wrote to his sons: "Harsh words are like hailstones; destroy what they would nourish. … Keep your mouth shut and keep the hailstones in and there won't be much trouble." He also wrote to family members in New York when he lost both of his 6-year-old twins from "brain fever" within four days: "Our darling Allen has gone to rest … I saw his last expiring breath … and now he is cold. … [Arthur] soon will be laid by his side in the grave. … Oh how can we give him up. … We have cried our eyes sore now and tomorrow we must see him put in the ground."
Between The Farmington Enterprise, a local newspaper founded in 1888, and the larger Detroit Free Press, snippets of local history linger on. Without newspapers, few would remember the wild shootout downtown during what I call "the Great Farmington Bank Robbery of 1924." The newspapers say a doctor whose office was in the bank building overheard the commotion. He Called the telephone operator, who also happened to work inside the bank building. She took a look for herself before summoning the deputy sheriff, whose barbershop was across the street. Leaving his customers, the deputy ran outside firing a revolver as other deputies assisted. Bullets were exchanged as the bandits fled in their car down Grand River Avenue. Despite 60 cars and 200 armed men from nearby cities on the lookout, the robbers got away, leaving behind plenty of fodder for town chatter.
BALLOON BOMBS and bank robbers aside, my biggest challenge was pictures. Taking one chapter at a time, I searched through hundreds of old photos to complement the text. The chosen ones were numbered, scanned and burned onto a CD, where each worn and sometimes faded photo took on a life of its own. To our delight, the computer screen revealed fascinating details not seen in the original photos. The little girl holding what we thought was a school bag turned out to be posing with her little brother--a towheaded boy barely visible in the actual picture. Then there was the street sign--which wasn't a street sign at all. It carried a public warning: "Look Out For the Car." Evidently, one could never be too careful in those early days of autos.
Amazing old photos aren't enough, though. You have to throw some new ones into the mix. Picture-taking wasn't my strong suit, so I sought a local photographer who shared an interest in preserving the past. We spent several afternoons racing through town lugging camera and tripod. Our last outing found us at North Farmington Cemetery, where veterans from every American war are buried. We needed a shot of the grave of a particular World War II veteran. Of course, this was Michigan, and it had snowed that spring morning. So, with broom in hand, we swept our way through the graveyard to search for the right name. The worst part? The grave we were looking for was directly behind the spot where we started. If only we had turned around, we wouldn't have had to sweep the entire cemetery!
While scanning pictures, consider your book cover. Make sure it entices your readers to come inside--remember, it's what they see first. I submitted photo after photo, and the editor nixed each one. Too faded. Too damaged. Too dull. With a deadline nearing, panic set in until I ran across an old shot of local Civil War veterans and their stern-looking spouses posing beneath a welcome sign at Farmington City Hall. The editor declared this one "picture perfect." Another hurdle crossed! Whew!
As that dreaded deadline inched closer, there was just enough time for one final round of editing, including those darn pictures and their captions. Once the whole shebang was shipped off to Arcadia, I exhaled.
But just when you think you're done--you're not. Within two weeks, the editor's marked-up draft arrived. Carefully poring over every word, I red-penned the pages from front to back--my last chance at perfection. Next came the galleys and my final shot at doing minor editing, double-checking pictures and revising captions. Another mad dash, but this time was different--it actually looked like a book! Now, good or bad, my words were off to the printer.
Most people know very little about where they live--that's why books like Arcadia's are so important. But writing a book about your hometown is more than just pictures and words; it's a unique opportunity to breathe life into long-forgotten characters who were once vital members of your community. It's your chance to tell their stories--maybe for the final time. Relish every moment of this, even when you feel like screaming. You never know what you might discover. Best of all, by sharing your enthusiasm and telling a great story, you just might inspire someone else to do a little digging of their own.
Would I do it again? You betcha! Now, if someone would just invent a time machine.
By Debra Ann Pawlak
Authoring a book about your hometown, or undertaking a similar writing project, presents unique challenges. My advice? Don't try it alone. Build a team. Find people who are good at what they do and let them do it. For example, I made fast friends with our local library's archivist, who knew what information was available and exactly where to find it. She also introduced me to a professional historian who had the knowledge to magically bring old photos to life. For fresh images, I picked the places, and a local photographer snapped them. A solid team can work miracles and relieve some of the pressure.
Ask your local historical society, if there is one, for help, and visit your local library. Tucked away in our library's basement was a "history room" where dusty papers and faded pictures were kept. I got lucky that summer when the library closed for renovations--I had the whole place to myself! Overwhelmed at the surprising amount of information housed there, it only made good sense to start at the beginning. I figured that if this technique worked for James Michener, it would work for me. I learned how the oceans receded from the southern half of Michigan's Lower Peninsula over 12,000 years ago and the glaciers moved in, carving valleys, ridges, lakes and rivers. Native Americans hunted there for centuries, but no one made Farmington their permanent home until Arthur Power arrived from New York in 1824.
Because Farmington was founded almost 200 years ago, I relied on some very old maps, records and books. Biographies and sketches written long ago proved invaluable. When I found conflicting information, I soon realized that something composed during the 1800s or early 1900s was more reliable than a recent piece. Back then, the subjects were either still alive or events were at least still fresh in the minds of those who documented the era. The newer histories cover almost two centuries and, as a result, lack many specifics. It is often those odd facts, forgotten people and intriguing incidents that make stories of the past come alive.
Who knew, for example, that Farmington had its very own militia? Organized in 1831, the Farmington Riflemen were sharp shooters and sharp dressers in their gray uniforms and green-feathered caps. These "minute men" were on call to defend the Michigan frontier at a moment's notice.
As for characters, Farmington was full of them. I grew rather fond of Arthur Power's grandson, John. As a youth, John witnessed his parents' active participation in the Underground Railroad, which sometimes passed through Farmington en route to Canada. According to Power's first-person account, an escaped slave might be kept in the family barn and then hidden in the back of the hay wagon his father drove down to the docks of Detroit. The fugitive then was ferried across the Detroit River straight to Windsor, Ontario, "where no master's hands could be laid on him."
And then there was the startling FBI report concerning a Japanese incendiary (balloon) bomb. During World War II, the Japanese launched thousands of these bombs, hoping they would float across the Pacific and wreak major damage on American soil. Most of them fizzled out over the ocean, but one deadly balloon bomb killed six people in Oregon. A few were found off the coast of California, while some reached Wyoming and Montana, but a local Farmington resident never expected to discover one in his garden. The FBI was summoned, and it was later confirmed that the farthest-reaching Japanese balloon bomb had indeed landed in Farmington.
Glean information from diaries, letters and newspapers. Eyewitness accounts of life in early Farmington always brought me a little closer to the past. Arthur Power's son, Nathan, kept a detailed diary. He wrote mostly about life on the farm, but in between the cows and the weather his heartfelt words depicted the times. Nathan described his 1865 trip to Washington, D.C., to attend the funeral of Abraham Lincoln: "This was the most melancholy event ever happening in our country. The wail of feeling and sorrow was deep throughout the land."
Personal letters, like voices from the past, provided insights into the many hardworking people who lived in the area. A farmer and devoted father, Theodore P. Howard, wrote to his sons: "Harsh words are like hailstones; destroy what they would nourish. … Keep your mouth shut and keep the hailstones in and there won't be much trouble." He also wrote to family members in New York when he lost both of his 6-year-old twins from "brain fever" within four days: "Our darling Allen has gone to rest … I saw his last expiring breath … and now he is cold. … [Arthur] soon will be laid by his side in the grave. … Oh how can we give him up. … We have cried our eyes sore now and tomorrow we must see him put in the ground."
Between The Farmington Enterprise, a local newspaper founded in 1888, and the larger Detroit Free Press, snippets of local history linger on. Without newspapers, few would remember the wild shootout downtown during what I call "the Great Farmington Bank Robbery of 1924." The newspapers say a doctor whose office was in the bank building overheard the commotion. He Called the telephone operator, who also happened to work inside the bank building. She took a look for herself before summoning the deputy sheriff, whose barbershop was across the street. Leaving his customers, the deputy ran outside firing a revolver as other deputies assisted. Bullets were exchanged as the bandits fled in their car down Grand River Avenue. Despite 60 cars and 200 armed men from nearby cities on the lookout, the robbers got away, leaving behind plenty of fodder for town chatter.
BALLOON BOMBS and bank robbers aside, my biggest challenge was pictures. Taking one chapter at a time, I searched through hundreds of old photos to complement the text. The chosen ones were numbered, scanned and burned onto a CD, where each worn and sometimes faded photo took on a life of its own. To our delight, the computer screen revealed fascinating details not seen in the original photos. The little girl holding what we thought was a school bag turned out to be posing with her little brother--a towheaded boy barely visible in the actual picture. Then there was the street sign--which wasn't a street sign at all. It carried a public warning: "Look Out For the Car." Evidently, one could never be too careful in those early days of autos.
Amazing old photos aren't enough, though. You have to throw some new ones into the mix. Picture-taking wasn't my strong suit, so I sought a local photographer who shared an interest in preserving the past. We spent several afternoons racing through town lugging camera and tripod. Our last outing found us at North Farmington Cemetery, where veterans from every American war are buried. We needed a shot of the grave of a particular World War II veteran. Of course, this was Michigan, and it had snowed that spring morning. So, with broom in hand, we swept our way through the graveyard to search for the right name. The worst part? The grave we were looking for was directly behind the spot where we started. If only we had turned around, we wouldn't have had to sweep the entire cemetery!
While scanning pictures, consider your book cover. Make sure it entices your readers to come inside--remember, it's what they see first. I submitted photo after photo, and the editor nixed each one. Too faded. Too damaged. Too dull. With a deadline nearing, panic set in until I ran across an old shot of local Civil War veterans and their stern-looking spouses posing beneath a welcome sign at Farmington City Hall. The editor declared this one "picture perfect." Another hurdle crossed! Whew!
As that dreaded deadline inched closer, there was just enough time for one final round of editing, including those darn pictures and their captions. Once the whole shebang was shipped off to Arcadia, I exhaled.
But just when you think you're done--you're not. Within two weeks, the editor's marked-up draft arrived. Carefully poring over every word, I red-penned the pages from front to back--my last chance at perfection. Next came the galleys and my final shot at doing minor editing, double-checking pictures and revising captions. Another mad dash, but this time was different--it actually looked like a book! Now, good or bad, my words were off to the printer.
Most people know very little about where they live--that's why books like Arcadia's are so important. But writing a book about your hometown is more than just pictures and words; it's a unique opportunity to breathe life into long-forgotten characters who were once vital members of your community. It's your chance to tell their stories--maybe for the final time. Relish every moment of this, even when you feel like screaming. You never know what you might discover. Best of all, by sharing your enthusiasm and telling a great story, you just might inspire someone else to do a little digging of their own.
Would I do it again? You betcha! Now, if someone would just invent a time machine.
By Debra Ann Pawlak
posted by Mary Mezack at 6:28 PM
2 comments
