Backstory: Most Satisfying Public-Records Search 

click to enlarge

• Sara Holbrook

This "backstory" is a part of a collection of articles that describes some of the obstacles that Seven Days reporters faced while pursuing Vermont news, events and people in 2019.

As a lifelong Vermonter, I take pride in knowing my home state. But every now and then, I learn about a place I never knew existed. In September, I was researching the connections between Sara Holbrook, the namesake of a Burlington community center, and the Vermont eugenics movement of the 1920s and '30s. After visiting two libraries and doing a fair amount of googling, I realized I had to see some historical documents up close. That's when I discovered the Vermont State Archives in Middlesex.

The beige warehouse is on Route 2, right behind a state police barracks — and down the road from the field where my sister and I used to watch my dad play softball while we were growing up. The archives weren't there back then, but I still felt nostalgic as I pulled in the driveway.

Related Sara Holbrook Community Center's Namesake Linked to Eugenics Movement

Sara Holbrook Community Center's Namesake Linked to Eugenics Movement

By Courtney Lamdin

News

The Vermont State Archives & Records Administration maintains records dating back to 1777, when Vermont declared itself an independent republic. The place is a public records nerd's wet dream. I couldn't wait to dig in.

The front door opened to a nondescript lobby, not unlike a doctor's office waiting room. A woman behind the front desk greeted me with a registration form and directed me to stash my stuff in one of the lockers. No backpacks were allowed, nor were "envelopes or other enclosed items," according to the three-page-long list of rules I reviewed next. I slung my cardigan over one arm and clutched my laptop in the other, ready to go. But the gatekeeper stopped me: I could only bring in the clothes on my back, she explained.

I layered up and was led into the reference room. I expected to see rows of records in labeled boxes but instead found rows of wooden tables, a few photocopiers and a microfiche machine. Archivist Mariessa Dobrick told me I could sit wherever I wanted so long as I faced her desk. It was like being back in a classroom, but that was fine by me. I always liked school — and rules.

Related Backstory 2019: What Seven Days Writers Didn't Tell You the First Time Around

Backstory 2019: What Seven Days Writers Didn't Tell You the First Time Around

By Seven Days Staff

News

And there were more of those. I could take photos with my phone, but not with a flash. I could take notes, but not with a pen. I could drink water, but only in the hallway.

Dobrick gave me three huge cardboard boxes of records that detailed the eugenic experiments at the now-defunct Brandon Training School. Proponents of the movement sought to institutionalize "feebleminded" Vermonters to prevent them from soiling otherwise pristine pedigrees. The documents were tissue-thin and yellow with age. They were so fragile, I felt like I should have been wearing gloves. But that wasn't in the rule book.

I spent two hours researching one of the ugliest chapters in Vermont history, and on the drive home, I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets our state archives hold.