While digital archives continue to challenge us, we should
never forget that we still have to care for records and public property.
The Internal Revenue Service (IRS) recommends that
Americans keep their tax records for anywhere from 3-7 years, depending on your
tax situation. Many cities require all departments to keep financial records
for 3 years, in case of a city-wide audit. Once I thought historians and
keepers of public records should responsibly
shed their innate pack rat syndrome.
A large renovation project on Wistariahurst Museum's
Carriage House has recently provided me with an argument to keep all documents
in perpetuity. As a staff, we had several pending questions: when was the house
last painted? Is there a history of pest management in the archives? Who were
the companies that provided work on the slate roof? Because until now, not many
employees at the museum considered the house to be an artifact on which notes
should be made, no one had answers to these questions. No previous director
wrote a report on the work done to the roof in 1996. It is understandable,
considering the workload, as well as much of the work being done by in-kind
donations or volunteer clubs like The Beavers.
As I sat in the basement where 50 years of records sat and
slowly picked through the hundreds of old purchase orders and thank you letters
from our governing board to other non profit groups, the documents stored there
began answering some of our questions. The exterior of the house was last
painted in 1977. Both 1994 and 1998 were big years for squirrel infestations at
the museum. After several costly boiler repairs in the late 1970s, we started
cleaning the boiler annually. Student volunteers painted several rooms on the
interior of the house in 1988.
I loved that my questions were answered, but it makes no
sense to keep all records and public property in perpetuity.
Upon conducting a cursory search of resources, I
discovered that there is no universal guide to determining how long to keep
public records. It seems, however, that an institution's Record Custodian has
several questions to answer when determining whether documents are trash or
treasure: Does the record document an important part of the institution's
history? Will it be a valuable resource to researchers many years from now? How
often is the material used? What is the value of the information to daily work?
Are there any external requirements to maintain the information by governmental
or granting agencies? Does the record help to prevent a legal liability?
A more textbook approach to records management is presented
in Information and Records Management
by Mary F. Robek, Gerald F. Robek and David O. Stephens (New York: McGraw Hill,
1995). These authors suggest that: information should be retained if there is a
reasonable probability that it will be needed in some future time; the
retention policies should not expose an organization to risk; the retention
period is most likely to be valid if it is based on a consensus of the opinions
of people knowledgeable about the value of the information and the potential costs,
risks, and benefits of its disposal; and finally, to avoid the 'every
conceivable contingency syndrome' (which to all pack rats, in my opinion, will
seem quite impossible). To add to the list, we also have to consider the costs
of storing and maintaining the records.
In the case of the unknown date for Wistariahurst's last
painting, I can only determine that staff should be responsible for recording
what happens to the building, if not for themselves, for the future staff and a
complete institutional history.
Amassing and storing public documents is one concern. What about objects and property? But to
what extent can (or should) we save larger objects and property?
This is where practicality meets nostalgia.
A building built in 1782 can be saved while a 1920s
building can be demolished. Where do we draw the line and whose responsibility
is it? With only so much public and private money to be shared by many
institutions, we have to make hard decisions. Is there a way we can save the
idea and history of a building while taking its physicality away? If it is too
expensive to heat and cool a building built in the 1920s, is it excusable that
we save the history while redeveloping the building into something more
practical? If we do that are we saving the important part? Is the important
part sharing the history, perhaps by putting an exhibit in the lobby of the
newly renovated or constructed building that describes the past uses of the
building? Or adding a "history" link to the website of the company that occupies
the building? What if we hold more public meetings to educate the community on
the importance of preserving buildings before it is too costly for a city to
continue to heat and cool it?
Awareness is our best bet for the future preservation of
buildings, artifacts and documents.
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