Remember the scene in The Wizard of Oz when Toto locates the wizard working the controls of his machines from behind a curtain? Having been discovered, the less-than-wonderful wizard shouts into his microphone, "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!"

Many individuals work behind the curtain to produce the technology we use in genealogy research. But, heeding the wizard’s plea, genealogists (and non-genealogists alike) usually pay no attention to them. The thousands of volunteers who perform transcription work, the programmers who develop genealogy software, the Web masters who host genealogy sites, the support staff who keep servers and networks running, even the technical support representatives who field our calls for help deserve our consideration and courtesy.

To Err Is Human

The Glamorgan Family History Society in Wales recently produced a CD-ROM index to the entire 1851 census for that county. I ordered it so I could follow my Welsh families between censuses. When it arrived, I sat down at my desk and began to search for my ancestors. I alternated between the new CD and the 1881 census CD produced by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, searching for the same ancestors’ whereabouts on either end of a thirty-year period. Going back and forth between CDs, I was able to pinpoint the internal migrations of my family from their snug little villages in the Vale of Glamorgan to the big city of Cardiff. It only took about ten minutes.

Moving from the computer to my microfiche reader, I used the GFHS’ 1841 census index to further locate my ancestors in their rural villages. Of course, using the microfiche took a bit longer than using the CDs, but in about a half an hour, I had my families spotted in 1841, 1851, and 1881. As the gap between 1851 and 1881 was considerable, I later went to my local Family History Center and viewed the 1861 and 1871 censuses on microfilm to cover the gap. Since I had been working with indexes only, I also viewed the original census records for 1841, 1851, and 1881.

While using the 1881 CD-ROM, I discovered an error. One of my families came from the small village of Penmark. But in the 1881 CD, some of my family are shown as being foreign-born from Denmark!

Not to say that there were no Danes living in Wales during the 1881 census. There were at least ninety individuals on the disc who were recorded as born in Denmark. Most of them had non-Welsh surnames like Tagholm, Ludvigson, and Christensen. In the case of my Welsh family, however, the transcription error was obvious. A "D" was mistaken for a "P" by one of the volunteer transcribers. A review of the 1881 census showed that Penmark was indeed listed, not Denmark. No Danes in my family tree.

I was apoplectic! What knucklehead got this information about my family wrong for thousands of genealogists to see? What if some unknown cousin started down the path to Denmark in search of our family? What was I to do? How could I correct the error?

Eventually, I calmed down. I realized I was looking at the situation all wrong. The transcription of the 1881 UK census had taken over a decade to complete. It was produced with the help of over ten thousand volunteers who put in over 2 million hours of work. The LDS Church sells the resulting CD-ROM set for a pittance. Instead of being irate over an error, I realized I should be grateful to the thousands of volunteers involved in the production of this great resource. The error I had found was a very human one, but it probably had a solution.

I called the Church’s technical support number and asked how I could correct the error. I was given instructions on how to submit a correction, then I made sure I thanked the person on the other end before I hung up the phone.

An Epiphany

I had been happily sleuthing between automated records when I discovered the error. I hadn’t been thinking about the millions of hours of effort that went into producing that shiny, round miracle of a finding aid I had been using. Therein lies the problem with how we approach technology. Technology is simply an artifact of human effort. A hammer, a windmill, an automobile–no matter how complex the technology–is just a tool that stores human knowledge, skill, and creativity.

An unfortunate by-product of all the amazing technology that is continually produced is that it hides the very people who create the products and keep them working. The thin technological veneer (e.g., CD-ROM finding aids, Web sites, genealogy software programs) is actually what we face when we sit down to a computer. Therefore, we often forget that there are human beings behind it all–writing the code, funding the projects, creating the content, and running the show. This is as true with technology geared toward genealogy as it is in any field.

With technology so prominently in our face, we begin to make wrong assumptions. We assume that all of what we want will naturally be automated. As a repercussion, we begin to treat technical support people (and others) the same way we treat the technology–as inanimate objects. We do this by association. It is easy to think of technical support staff for the 1881 census CD-ROM as simply an extension of the product itself. In truth, the people we speak to on the telephone are not a part of any product, they are people just like you and me.

We also develop attitude. The 1851 and 1881 censuses are on CD-ROM? Then we want 1861 and 1871, and we want them yesterday. Then we expect someone else to correct any problems related to the product. If the genealogy program doesn’t work quite right, we call the help line. If there is something wrong on the Web site, we e-mail the Web master. If the mailing list is doing something funny, we contact the mailing list host.

Unfortunately, we only resort to "personal" interaction after we’ve reached the point of frustration with the product itself. At this point, we’ve already used up most of our patience, and the person at the other end of our communications is usually the unlucky recipient of our attitude. I get a good share of "attitude" about problems as a result of hosting genealogy Web sites and running genealogy mailing lists. I’ve observed technical support call centers in action and Dante’s visions of purgatory are a picnic in comparison.

Opportunity for Change

We must approach these volunteers, programmers, Web masters, support staff, and others with more sympathy and respect. And there are several easy ways to accomplish this.

First, always be polite. Remember that many of these "people behind the curtains" are likely fellow genealogists (who may just turn out to be distant cousins). Be nice to them. Besides being there to assist you, the support staff of any product or service has a huge job to do. They must try to understand what you’re telling them, estimate your level of technical expertise, find a solution out of thousands of possibilities, and communicate it back to you in an understandable fashion.

Say, "thank you." One thing that helps keep volunteers and paid staff going on projects is when they receive an occasional thank you. Whatever the method of communication, be sure to let the staff know that their work is appreciated. For every offer of thanks received, these people have clocked dozens of thankless interactions. Make your experience with them a positive one.

Next, don’t assume that a solution exists. You having a problem with the technical interface may not indicate that a technical solution exists. There may not be a Web site out there with exactly what you want on it. There may not be a data field in your genealogy software to indicate that your sixth-cousin-eight-times-removed loved Rocky Road ice cream. The data on your family may be wrong in an electronic finding aid, just like my Danes. There will be errors, omissions, and limitations in the products and services related to genealogy and technology. This is natural.

Finally, be proactive. Volunteer to make technical solutions happen. If the census you need is not yet on CD-ROM, help transcribe it. If you don’t see a Web page about the fascinating genealogy of the Wild Man of Borneo, create one. While many of us are very good at complaining about the problems, there are proportionately few of us who are actively involved in providing solutions. Contribute to the solution. Be a fixer instead of a complainer.

Just remember, the little man behind the curtains has feelings, too. Be nice to him. He just may have a brain, a heart, or some courage to share with you.

Return to the Ancestry Magazine July/August 2001 Table of Contents.