Interviewing the Living and the Dead
By Davis Bitton

I can't vouch for the truth of this story, so I shall suppress the name of the historian. As the story goes, a prominent historian specializing in Renaissance-Reformation (my own specialty in graduate school and as a university professor) had a good reputation based on his studies of Erasmus and the New Piety in the Low Countries.

When his wife died, the historian continued his teaching and scholarship. He also seemed a bit unstable and, according to his colleagues, sometimes seemed out of touch with reality. When a spiritual medium held out the prospect that he might be able to converse with his departed companion, he couldn't resist and apparently experienced what he considered a genuine meeting with her departed spirit.

Then a brilliant thought occurred to our historian. Why not utilize this tool in historical research? He asked if the medium could put him in touch with Martin Luther. Never at a loss, the medium agreed to do so but asked for some preparation time. I don't know whether there was a crash course in Luther's biography or what, but when the scheduled séance took place, our dear historian was satisfied that he was indeed in touch with the famous Dr. Luther. Not surprisingly, when the results of this interview were presented to his colleagues, they shook their heads and refused to take it seriously.

I shall return to the idea of interviewing the dead, but let's first talk about interviewing the living. A few years ago I traveled to Blackfoot, Idaho, the place where I grew up, with the intention of interviewing my father, Ronald W. Bitton. He didn't talk much about himself, but I knew he had experienced an interesting, varied life and wanted him to open up and recall some of the specifics.

Unfortunately, we all became too busy doing other things, and the interview didn't occur. Oh, well, I thought, I'll just do it next time I come.

There was no next time. A long-distance phone call told me that my dear father had died of a sudden massive heart attack. I was glad he didn't have to suffer a long, painful decline and death, but we in the family were grief-stricken. Many times since then, I have thought to myself, "If only I had managed to complete that oral history!"

Oral history came into its own after World War II. Stenographers could take down testimony before, of course, but it was the invention of the tape recorder that made possible in the form we know it today. Allan Nevins, at Columbia University, started a project on the New Deal and the Roosevelt presidency. The techniques were refined and standardized, leading to a valuable cache of information in tape recordings and typed transcriptions. Subsequently similar programs were established at many universities and historical societies.

I had my own introduction to oral history when I was assistant Church historian. Professor Gary Shumway, who had already gained experience in this approach and who had directed an oral history project at California State University at Fullerton, agreed to come to Salt Lake City and help us establish a program that would meet professional standards.

Such an oral history program was established and accumulated hundreds of interviews. General authorities, stake and mission presidents, missionaries, Church members from different countries — capture their experience while they are still alive and alert and willing to talk. This was the idea.

I couldn't resist participating as an interviewer myself. Without mentioning all those I interviewed, I can say that each session was a choice experience. I came to feel very close to the interviewee (don't you love that word?) and felt I was doing something of permanent value in seeing to it that a record was being established.

An interview doesn't take the place of a diary or personal memoirs, but it provides an added dimension. For someone who didn't keep a diary or write a personal history, an interview is invaluable.

One of my many cherished experiences along this line was interviewing George S. Tanner. A retired institute teacher from the University of Idaho, George was born and raised in Arizona and retained an interest in the history of the Mormon settlements there. He devoted his retirement years to gathering material of historical value and depositing it in different research archives.

With incredible stamina, he typed out many diaries by Arizona pioneers. With J. Morris Richards, he later produced a valuable book, Colonization on the Little Colorado: The Joseph City Region. But the primary materials George accumulated will be utilized for generations to come. What a privilege, what an education, for me to follow George Tanner through his life as he responded to questions about growing up, about the seminary and institute program in the 1920s and 1930s, and his discoveries about Arizona history.

Have you tried doing an oral history? Obtain a tape recorder. Do some advance preparation so that you will ask intelligent questions. Get some pointers from someone experienced in this technique. Read an article or book on the subject, and jot down ideas you can apply. If you are going to do it, you might as well do it in a manner "worthy of all acceptation."

Back to the question of interviewing the dead. This is not possible in the strict sense. But if the departed family member or subject of interest left a diary or letters, or if a newspaper wrote an article on him or her, it may be possible to construct an imaginary interview that heightens interest. Such an exercise should be clearly labeled for what it is. Its value depends entirely on whether the "answers" can be supported from reliable witnesses or documents. Much better to hold such interviews while the person is still alive and kicking, still able to respond to follow-up questions.

In point of fact, if I understand the scriptures, the deceased has more important things to think about, including an interview of sorts with One who already knows the answers. By comparison, curiosity-seekers on earth — including all historians — pale into insignificance.