2006 Allan Nevins Prize Acceptance Speech: Darren Dochuk
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I would like to thank the Society of American Historians for this wonderful honor and the great privilege to join you this evening. I am a bit embarrassed to admit that it was only last year, after working closely with Mark Schwehn, winner of the 1978 Nevins prize, that I became fully aware of this award. Curious to find out more about this accolade I did what any responsible historian would do—google "Nevins prize." What this trusty search engine revealed was a "who's who" of the profession, an impressive list of historians whose quality of scholarship I had long admired and tried to emulate. Now, barely a year after googling the Nevins Prize in northwest Indiana, I find myself in New York City accepting it. If it were not for the many congratulatory notes from friends—as well as the unsolicited advice from seasoned New Yorkers on what to see and do in the Big Apple—I would hardly believe this was true.
Suffice to say, I am humbled to be included among the likes of Schwehn and so many other distinguished scholars who have won this award. I am also exceedingly grateful, for this event marks an affirming end to a process that was often quite isolating and disorienting. Early in my research I struggled with the typical graduate school doubts: would the project allow me to ask "big questions"? Would I remain interested enough in it to stay the course? Would anyone else care?
I confronted these doubts head on during a chance encounter with a burly, tobacco-chewing sheriff on a dark night in the Ozark Mountains. While parked at the side of the road and hunched over a confusing map, I was startled by the officer who, after telling me to roll down my window, asked two existential questions: how did you get here and where are you going? After I mumbled and stumbled along in an effort to explain my research plans—and just as I was about to begin enlightening him on major trends in post-World War II regional, religious, and political change—the sheriff gruffly steered me toward a more traveled highway.
Fortunately, as I pressed on in my hunt for sources I encountered others more willing to listen and just as eager to point me in the right direction. While researching in California and the Southwest I had the great fortune to come in contact with many generous people who were determined to help in any way they could. I am especially indebted to the many religious leaders who allowed me access to unprocessed historical material in their church attics, and church folk who eagerly told me their life stories in hopes that they would be told to others. Having spent their lives rallying behind the causes of popular evangelicalism and populist conservatism, these willing informants looked to me to proclaim the truths of God, Goldwater, and Reagan. While my interpretation of history was not always theirs, my engagement with these individuals and their institutions allowed me direct access to deep religious impulses in California's conservative movement.
Even more important than the help of strangers was the consistent support of my faculty advisors at the University of Notre Dame. It was in the process of writing the dissertation that I gained a profound respect for the level of patience, dedication, and humility that the historical discipline requires of its practitioners. Guiding me toward this new appreciation were those on my committee with whom I worked most closely: Gail Bederman, Walter Nugent, and John McGreevy. These first-rate scholars and upstanding individuals helped make the history department at Notre Dame a dynamic and supportive environment ideal for rigorous study of modern American religion, politics, and culture. This award is also a tribute to George Marsden, my primary advisor, whose retirement in two years will bring an end (at least in a formal sense) to a career that has had unparalleled impact on our understanding of conservative Protestantism in American history. I hope, if only in some small way, to continue Marsden's project of giving voice to historical actors who have brought their religious convictions, values, and actions to bear on America's ever-changing political landscape.
Finally, although I hardly needed it to be so, the dissertation also afforded me a new appreciation for my wife. Always supportive but somewhat suspicious of my project, Debra endured many South Bend winters on her own while I "conducted research" in Southern California. At times, she questioned whether my research was simply a ploy to explore the Southland's fine golf courses; I repeatedly insisted it was not. This award has helped me make my case a more convincing one, and for that I can only say thank you.
