Editor’s note

Abstract

As I write this note, an army of springtime birds are singing in a cacophony of joy over the prospect of warmer weather. It is a song I can fully appreciate. There is something about springtime that brings such promise—and energy and joy. The seeds of last harvest, dormant all winter, are slowly pushing through the earth in new growth. Research is much the same. Ideas lay dormant, pushed aside by the tyranny of the urgent that is the academic life, then—after a restive moment—burst forth with potential to inform and expand our knowledge. It is work that helps us see our world in a new light. From a different angle. As I was compiling the Spring edition of American Journalism, it struck me that the two fortieth anniversary essays in this issue both remind me of spring, in large part, because the authors dare us to see the world of possibility before us—rather than the things we already know. It is safe to say that many historians are notorious for being late adaptors. Reluctant to embrace new technologies. Cynical of the latest and greatest. Some even eschew technology all together. Please note, this space is not designed to call that reluctance toward technology into question. Everyone has a different approach to their craft. Who am I to question that? At the same time, I cannot resist a challenge to the willing to consider: What if? What if research methods common to critical cultural studies could benefit historiographical approaches to the past? What if artificial intelligence can assist us in culling through voluminous, digitized archives? What if I applied these methods to my own research? I find it impressive that two of our eight essays—from a challenge issued more than a year ago as part of a year-long fortieth anniversary celebration of the journal—would land so squarely in this vision-casing “what if” territory. (Talk about scholars from our community pushing the