If you鈥檝e ever taken a college history course, chances are good that you prepared a research paper. For many sound reasons research papers have long been a favored capstone. But, according to , an assistant professor of history at the 人妻少妇专区, there鈥檚 one important shortcoming: students write for an audience of just one鈥攖heir professor.
That鈥檚 why Fleischman, an environmental historian, took a different approach last semester in his course on the environmental history of the Erie Canal. In lieu of having his students write a final research paper, the professor and the class teamed up to create a podcast series. The series, Under the Low Bridge, which borrows Thomas S. Allen鈥檚 鈥淟ow Bridge鈥� as its theme music鈥攊s part of the history department鈥檚 new podcast program Hear UR.
Says Fleischman, 鈥淚 thought a podcast would offer an opportunity to engage in the traditional skills of historical practice, meaning, research, writing, editing, and crafting a narrative, but also producing something for a broad public audience.鈥�
When it was built 200 years ago, the brought tremendous prosperity to New York City, New York State, and the East Coast, carrying people and products on the 363-mile stretch from the Hudson River at Albany to the then western frontier in Buffalo.
Listen here for our Quadcast conversation with professor Thomas Fleischman and two of his students鈥擲ophia McRae and Adrian Harwood鈥攁bout the history class on the Erie Canal and its resulting podcast series Under the Low Bridge.
It also fundamentally transformed the economic history of the United States, says Fleischman.
鈥淚t made it from a regional country to a global economic power. In particular, it connected New York City to the vast American hinterland and in doing so, made New York City the most important port in America,鈥� he says.
Yet, like many transformative projects, it came at a cost. It鈥檚 a story 鈥渁bout lofty dreams and unexpected consequences,鈥� the students write in their online narrative. The podcast series tackles issues such as the canal鈥檚 environmental impact, public disputes, and the detrimental effects on the laborers who built it鈥攁ll of which Fleischman and his students detail through the lens of environmental history.
The class undertook Erie Canal site visits and spent considerable time poring over original maps, architectural plans, photos, and other canal-related documents at the University鈥檚 department of They also listened intently to podcasts to find what was worth emulating (and what to avoid)鈥攕ettling on a version of NPR鈥檚 Radiolab.
Together they produced six episodes, with titles such as about struggling to build an embankment against the natural layout of the land, 鈥渢o about the forgotten laborer鈥檚 disease lurking in the muddy waters of the canal.
The feverish title, as Adrian Harwood 鈥�18 explains, has multiple dimensions to it. On the one hand, it points to the economic prosperity that the canal brought to vast regions. On the other hand, it also alludes to the disease experienced by many of the laborers who worked on its construction. While the canal itself brought great wealth to large parts of the country, its workers were subjected to terrible conditions, notes Harwood, an international studies major with a minor in history. Those conditions ultimately fostered the emergence of a malarial disease called ague fever.
Many of the workers were Irish, brought in as cheap immigrant labor. 鈥淕enerally, most workers wouldn鈥檛 get paid until the job was done, and the pay wasn鈥檛 great. Sometimes it was whiskey, sometimes it was 30 cents an hour,鈥� says Harwood, who co-produced the 鈥淐anal Fever鈥� episode. Ague fever decimated many along the way. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 mainly how the contractors viewed the laborers. If they didn鈥檛 die, the remainder is what they had to pay.鈥�
The students鈥� description of the working conditions is graphic, with plenty of sound effects to make their point鈥攆rom water lapping at the workers鈥� legs, to the chattering teeth of a fever-ridden laborer.
鈥淚n the worst circumstances, Irish laborers were knee deep in a foot of swamp water with their legs swelling from inescapable dampness for 12 to 15 hours a day. The still swamp water that engulfed the workers鈥� bodies was believed to have contained toxic properties, and when consumed through breath and drink, led to the contraction of ague fever,鈥� Harwood at one point tells his podcast audience.
While the human costs of constructing the canal were high, the public for the most part didn鈥檛 seem to notice. Nature protection was on few people鈥檚 radar. At the time of the canal鈥檚 construction, as well as during its revision in 1911, prevailing attitudes toward the use of land, the students contend in their podcast description, were that 鈥渘ature was a thing to be altered, to be made into something useful, to be conquered.鈥� Nature inspired awe, and also, fear. 鈥淭o Americans, these projects represented a bright future where people would no longer have to be subjected to the dangers of the natural world.鈥�
The fifth episode takes a closer look at the building of聽聽in 1888 in the center of Rochester鈥攁nd the conflict that initially arose over the 1910 addition of the聽 that bisects the bucolic park.
Sophia McRae 鈥�19, a double major in history and environmental humanities, co-produced the episode, which takes listeners on an auditory tour to the top of a 30-foot rickety wall of iron and wood, with old railroad lines crossing over the canal, pedestrian bridges, a major highway built on top of the site of the original Erie Canal, and now the Rochester airport less than a mile away.
It was 鈥渜uite stunning to stand on the top of this lock and look out and see that we are at the center of a major transportation infrastructure as well as in the center of a park,鈥� remembers McRae. Looking from the lock across Rochester, the students could see the history of the landscape. 鈥淲e called it a physical timeline of the last 200 years,鈥� she adds.
McRae鈥檚 episode focuses on the problem New York State engineers faced in Rochester: the existing route of the canal through the heart of the city was too small to allow for larger barges to pass through, thereby losing customers (and money) to its rapidly-rising competitor鈥攖he railroads. That鈥檚 when the engineers floated the idea of an updated barge canal directly through the Genesee Valley Park. Its landscape architect, Frederick Law Olmsted (who also designed New York City鈥檚 Central Park) was initially dismayed, says McRae. He had envisioned a 鈥減astoral phantasy鈥� with flocks of sheep, deer, and鈥攜es,鈥攁 bear. The railroad tracks that already crossed his park were clearly not part of this vision.
But time had come to shift gears.
鈥淚t turned out that Genesee Valley Park was already in a flood plain and was devastated several times by flooding waters. And so, combining the waters of the Erie Canal and the Genesee River actually alleviated a lot of the flooding tendencies,鈥� explains McRae. Simultaneously it put a lot of the railroad tracks out of commission鈥攕atisfying both the Olmsted firm and the industrial needs of the barge canal, she notes.
The six episodes form the first season of podcasts from the Department of History. More are to come, promises Fleischman, who admits with real pride that he was somewhat surprised at how well the series turned out. 鈥淚 was learning along with them,鈥� he says. 鈥淣ow that I鈥檝e done it, I have seen that it can be successful and I intend to carry it forward.鈥�
Working on these episodes made her see her own city completely differently, says McRae, a Rochester native. 鈥淚t鈥檚 been one of the most enlightening processes of this past semester.鈥�
Season 2 will go into production in the spring term of 2019, promises Fleischman. He already has another compelling topic in mind: the father of modern taxidermy, Carl Akeley, who trained in Rochester. Akeley rose to fame in the early 20th century as the designer of the taxidermied animals in New York鈥檚 American Museum of Natural History, after having accompanied former President Theodore Roosevelt on a year-long hunting expedition to Africa.
