Ms. Peppercorn has brazenly joined a proposed panel, just
submitted to the powers that be for the annual ASLH meeting to be held in
Washington, D.C. later this year. The
deadline is actually tomorrow, so our submission is thankfully in good time. Ms.
Peppercorn’s efforts along these lines have caused her to reflect on the art of
appealing to conference program committees.
ASLH, for example, has become a competitive environment, turning away
many great proposals. This is thanks not
only to the impressive growth of the field of legal history, but also to the
high quality and diversity of topics that members have come to expect when they
attend the annual conference.
So what hints does she have for the hopeful legal historian
either for this or other conferences?
First, it helps to have a full panel to propose. Program committee members are harried
individuals, and seeing clearly that a group of people have come together to
create a more or less coherent topic makes the committee’s job considerably
simpler. They don’t have to worry that
papers won’t fit together, because the proposers have already assured them that
they will. Smashing papers together that
don’t fit naturally can be a disaster, as many committees have learned at ASLH
and elsewhere.[1]
Second, making some effort to address the
announced theme of the conference is also a good idea. That said, Ms. Peppercorn failed hopelessly
at this. She will light a candle to the
program gods, in hopes that they will forgive the oversight.
Finally, it helps to bring in panelists from outside the
field, if at all possible. There are
many great historians whose work touches on topics of interest to legal
historians but who may not attend the meeting on a regular basis, or any basis
at all. Ms. Peppercorn often finds that
such folk are more likely to accept an invitation to present or comment if they
don’t have to travel far to do so. Thus,
a careful look around the local schools (fortunately, in Washington there are
many excellent ones to choose from) can yield good results. In our case, we approached a fine local
expert to comment on our panel, and thankfully he agreed.
So at this season of proposals, just remember to travel in
panel-sized packs, listen to the group leader (in the form of the CFP theme),
and enlist new recruits.
It also helps, Ms. Peppercorn should mention in closing, not
to be greedy. If you gave a paper last
year, don’t try to hog the sandbox. And
don’t attach your name to multiple proposals.
The invaluable Miss Manners would call such behavior “Infectious
Greed.” Ms. Peppercorn recognizes that
most legal historians cannot be accused of such a disease, but nonetheless on
occasion we have been known to stray gently into the danger zone. When tempted, remember that double dipping is
never good manners, even in the land of the multidisciplinary.
[1]
Some groups (can you say Law and Society Ass’n?) have made such smashing a brand
of their organization. They thus provide
valuable presentation notations for many scholars’ CVs, but a less satisfying
environment in terms of predictably high integration of papers.
