Finding History by Tugging on the Family Heartstrings

My mother and I were nearing the end of our long drive from her home in Stewart County to the Nashville Public Library downtown. As I dodged the traffic on I-40, she was anxious, but not because of the tractor-trailers hurtling past us. “What if I mess up?” she asked. “Will we have a chance to do it over?” Nope, no do-overs, I tell her, but she shouldn’t worry. Whatever she says will be fine. She’s not quite reassured. “I’m just afraid I’ll forget something.”

I had to smile a little at the unintended irony. We were on our way to take part in StoryCorps, perhaps the largest oral history project ever devoted to the recording of personal memories. To date, nearly 30,000 people across the U.S. have participated. The basic idea is simple: Two people, along with a StoryCorps “facilitator,” go into a sound booth and spend 40 minutes talking about whatever they want to remember and preserve. It can be anything, from a veteran’s combat experience to the story of how grandma met grandpa. When they’re done, they get a CD of the recorded session, and a second copy is permanently archived at the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress.

National Public Radio listeners are familiar with StoryCorps from the heart-tugging snippets that have been airing since the project started with a booth in New York City’s Grand Central Terminal in 2003. (There are now several MobileBooths that visit cities and towns for a month at a time. One of them left Memphis last week, but Nashville and Milwaukee have the only long-term StoryBooths outside New York City.) The segments are highly popular with NPR audiences, and now there’s a book and CD of selected stories, Listening Is an Act of Love, being hawked at Starbucks. Jim Havron, the Nashville Public Library’s liaison with StoryCorps, is keenly aware of the need to record stories from outside the typically white, affluent public radio demographic: “We very much wish to include all groups of people. We’re making a special effort through community outreach to involve minorities, low-income folks and the elderly.” He’s also made it his mission to draw in some of the homeless denizens of the downtown library.

StoryCorps is the brainchild of journalist David Isay, who got his start working for Amy Goodman of the long-running liberal news program Democracy Now! He’s been the recipient of a MacArthur “genius” grant, and he founded a nonprofit production company, Sound Portraits, that makes gritty documentaries for NPR. His past projects there have included a moment-by-moment account of a Texas execution, and a story on one of the last flophouses in New York City’s Bowery.

StoryCorps was created under the aegis of Sound Portraits, but gritty it’s not. Some participants bring tragic stories to tell, and there are special initiatives within the project to collect memories of 9/11, as well as accounts of the African-American experience. But overall, StoryCorps is resolutely warm and fuzzy, shamelessly touting itself as a feel-good opportunity for bonding with friends and family. Isay hopes the project will remind “us all just how precious each day can be and how truly great it is to be alive.”

That upbeat approach was very much in evidence when my mother and I arrived at the StoryCorps sound booth, in a corner of the library’s Nashville Room. We were immediately greeted by our facilitator, Esi Arthur—a warm, vivacious young woman. “Welcome, welcome, welcome,” she said, beaming an infectious smile. Nashville’s three other facilitators, all women, happened to be there to attend a meeting, and each went out of her way to say hello, smile and be encouraging. It felt a little like being rushed by a sorority.

We were ushered over to armchairs and given acid-free forms to fill out with archival pens, one of many reminders that this was all going to be preserved for posterity. Arthur gave us a quick tutorial on how to prevent recording problems: avoid finger-tapping, shifting in the chair, throat-clearing, etc. StoryCorps is all over the details. As we entered the booth, I noticed a box of tissues discreetly placed on the table where we were to sit. Tears are more the rule than the exception in StoryCorps world, and no one wants to waste precious recording time fumbling for Kleenex.

One person is designated as the interviewer, one the interviewee, but there’s no script to guide the conversation. The facilitator is there primarily to oversee the recording, though she may help things along if there’s a lull. Participants are encouraged to do a little brainstorming beforehand about what to discuss, but once the recording starts, they just wing it. My mother and I had decided that she would talk about her life as a singer, a passion she has pursued since she started singing gospel music with her preacher father at age 4.