On Making History

I’ve recently become obsessed with Mad Men.  My lack of work this week meant I had lots of time to watch episodes On Demand, which coincides nicely with the upcoming season premiere and its historic Emmy nomination.  For those not in the know, Mad Men is an AMC series based around the lives and work of Madison Avenue advertising men in 1960.  If the premise seems a bit dry, I assure you there is plenty of sex, booze, and scandal to keep you entertained.  The best part?  It’s historically-accurate debauchery.  

As many people know, I spent my undergrad years as a history devotee. As the proud holder of a $150,000 BA in History, I feel that it’s my responsibility to clear up historical misconceptions.  Most people assume that history is a dry subject and a degree in the discipline’s only utility is helping one get a teaching job.  In my experience, people are just as shocked to find out I have no plans on ever teaching as they are that I have no interest in the Civil War, ancient Rome, or George Washington.  

Case in point: I ventured to Charlestown last weekend with Amelia and Seth.  I was able to hold my own and let my out-of-state friends know that the Battle of Bunker Hill actually took place on Breed’s Hill, which I owe more to being a Massachusetts-native and having been indoctrinated in Revolutionary War propaganda from a young age than anything I learned in college.  I’m far more at home finding places for us to drink sangria in the North End then taking part in historical reenactments.  

To me, history is very much alive, relevant, and often salacious.  During my years as a history major, I wrote several papers on testicles, perused vintage Playboys, and learned as much about Hitler’s sex life as his military strategy.  I once spent a whole weekend in the computer lab writing 25 pages about Nazism’s and Judaism’s dual responsibility in castrating Freud. I know more than a little about the societal effects of the Pill, the relationship between communism and homosexuals, and tattoo rituals of Iraqis.   By the end of college, I had found my niche (or niches) in psychohistory and social theory.  Wars only interest me insofar as they precipitate social change and if anyone ever tried to start a conversation with me about Locke or Voltaire, I’d probably cry from boredom.  I like learning about people, and not specific ones as much as average joes and social trends they represent.  Enter Mad Men.

This show is brilliant in that in 13 episodes,  literally thousands of facets of 1960’s America are critically captured.  Consumerism, gender roles, de facto racism, beatniks and bohemians, homosexuality, psychoanalysis…you name it, it’s there.  With so many cigarettes, stiff drinks, and sex scenes to make me feel a little ill just watching it.  

Mad Men is both critically-acclaimed and professor-approved.  My Post-War America prof recommended the show last fall and I’d like to do the same.  It’s got its predictable moments (who couldn’t have seen that Peggy’s “weight-loss device” was actually a vibrator?) but there also some good plot twists and complex emotional situations being dealt with.  How would women today react to being threatened by their gynecologist with being taken off the Pill if they “abuse it?”  And how brilliant are those writers for simultaneously making you feel for the housewives, while also believing their husband belongs with his mistress?  Pure Hollywood genius.  Pure Hollywood historical genius.

If I weren’t so damn committed to helping people and too idealistic to get involved in the rat race, I bet I could go west and write awesome historical drama for the screen.  As a historian, I bring a lot to the table, like knowledge of Hitler’s undescended testicle and nuts and bolts of illegal abortions.  If that doesn’t make for cinematic gold, I don’t know what does.