Last fall, I moved back to New Hampshire after living in Virginia for five years. After the completion of my previous job, and having been accepted into the Museum Studies program, it seemed as good a time as ever to move back home. I gave myself a few weeks to relax and spend time with my family before confronting the inevitable reality that I needed to find a job.
After one particularly horrible interview at a restaurant where the managers talked down to me, tried to dissuade me from working there, and questioned my knowledge, despite my strong experience, I was feeling discouraged.
It was my mom who saw a “SEASONAL HELP WANTED” sign at a nearby home decor store and encouraged me to apply. I was hesitant at first—retail, to me, didn’t feel like it was on the historical presentation/preservation/interpretation path, but life is expensive, and I decided to apply. After an interview that was as kind and informative as its restaurant counterpart was uncomfortable, I agreed to start two days later.
The exciting thing about this particular home decor store is that it sells not only your typical throw blankets, pillows, candles, artificial flowers, holiday decor, and other bits and bobs, but also furniture. And not just any furniture—antique, reworked pieces that one of the owners, Richard, refurbishes himself.
Richard isn’t your average internet-DIYer, though—he’s a master carpenter who is renowned in New England. One of his most recent projects, for which he made it onto “New Hampshire Chronicle,” a beloved statewide news segment that highlights New Hampshire culture, was at the Old North Church in Boston. Yes, that Old North Church, of “one if by land, two if by sea” fame—Richard remade the wooden crypt doors during their historic crypt restoration project.
This is a fact that was casually told to me a few days into working at the store and was one that took me entirely by surprise, firstly, because New England never fails to be a small world! But secondly, I had previously seen my two worlds as entirely siloed. I went to museum school to gain experience and knowledge for my future career and worked retail on the side to make ends meet.
But to think this way was to entirely ignore the myriad of connections my retail job held to my field. When a historic site undertakes preservation or conservation work, they call in an expert. Much as an art museum brings in a paintings conservator when they need an oil painting conserved, when historic sites need carpentry work, they bring in a master carpenter. In this case, the Old North Church turned to the same person who employed me and whom I got to begrudgingly wear cat ears for the store’s Halloween event. The very preservation and collections care work I was learning about in class was happening quite literally in front of me.
And offsite historic preservation is not the only preservation work Richard undertakes—he does onsite work as well. In 2017, during the demolition of the beloved and historic Rockingham Park racetrack in Salem, New Hampshire, Richard worked with the demolition company to salvage materials and artifacts from the track.
Recognizing the impact the loss would have on the New Hampshire community and seeing a gap in tangible public history that could be filled, Richard began making items out of the materials he salvaged. Using wood from the stables, horseshoes, gambling tokens, playing cards, poker chips, and other found materials, he has created serving trays, poker boards, wall decor, and more. These are tangible pieces of public history that visitors can purchase to remain connected to the track and its history. We had many customers who came in and got emotional seeing the pieces, sharing with us that they had a personal connection to the track, whether that be a parent who was a jockey or distant memories of attending races as a child.
This is a beautiful concept to me—people can own and treasure pieces of the park, tethering themselves to the memories that since 2017 have been intangible. The materials would have otherwise been discarded as the land has since been redeveloped. Everyday New Hampshirites like me can support a local craftsperson through the purchase of an artfully made item that can serve as a reminder of what has been lost.
So all this to say—I am very grateful for the perspective and historical connection that what I thought would be a ho-hum retail job gave me. During my season working there, I loved walking in to see a new historic furniture piece on the floor or in the workshop. Since Richard knew I’m studying history, he made sure to show me all of his latest historic work. A little while back, I walked in to see an 1860s chest of drawers casually sitting on the shop floor. One day, he showed me a 1942 plane propellor he restored, which he believes is from a World War II plane.
What’s funny is that prior to starting the job, I had jokingly mentioned to a friend the connection I would make between it and museums in a job interview: “Decorative Arts, man!” And this is true—I certainly learned so much about the work that goes into making the furniture pieces that hold bits of our lives and that we take for granted daily. But there was also so much more, too—ideas about how we can memorialize a physical space that would otherwise be forgotten, how history can be added to and revitalized by contemporary artisans, the lives and memories we can find in everyday objects, and what creative preservation can look like.
Moral of the story: finding museum and history jobs can be hard! But maybe don’t count out that retail or other job that you may see as unrelated—it just could have a hidden historical connection that could be more beneficial than you know. And, if you ever find yourself in my neck of the woods, visit Revived Furniture and Home Decor to see some incredible artistry.
