What’s up with this letter?  For years it’s been lying around in a drawer flaunting its sketches in a come-hither way sure to grab my attention.

Despite my tendency to swoon at the sight of old paper with writing on it, it was always immediately obvious that it would take some effort to figure out what was going on in this one. Passing glances at the text didn’t illuminate the subject matter in a way that attracted a longer gaze, and fact that the writing laces around and through and between the sketches (kind of like this post) added to the effort required to read it. It was also clear that the writer meant to be entertaining, so a reader would have to catch up with a sense of humor that might belong to another age.

No one has ever asked to see the letter. It was probably “hidden” in the sense that it doesn’t seem to be attached to a collection and it isn’t catalogued. I have no idea how the letter got here and until recently (until my turn at the blog rolled around) I never had occasion to take it out and really examine it just to satisfy my own curiosity.

Last week I finally took the letter to my desk to transcribe it, but before I completed that task I did a little research to learn about the writer, Henry Chester Kellogg (1819-1896). Understanding Henry’s background – knowing who comprised his world — provides some context for his letter. Somewhere along the way it dawned on me that the 27-year-old correspondent was Emily Dickinson’s neighbor when the Dickinson family lived on West Street, with Kellogg families to their south.

Dickinson house (1840-55) on West (No. Pleasant) St., ca. 1868.

1855 census showing Henry Chester Kellogg’s family, his Kellogg cousins, and the Dickinsons.

Kellogg store in Merchants Row, across from the town common.

The young Kelloggs – Henry’s brothers, sister, and cousins — attended Amherst Academy both before and during Dickinson’s attendance. Henry’s sister Eliza Mary Kellogg, later Mrs. Hanson L. Read, figures in Dickinson’s letters, as do his cousins Emeline and William Kellogg. Other records show that Henry and his brother Dwight stayed in town and worked as shoe makers, while brother William Wallace Kellogg worked as a printer in Eastern Massachusetts and was a state senator.

In our letter, Henry writes to brother William about nothing, or to be more specific about what constitutes “nothing,” about the practice of letter writing when one has nothing to say. He touches on the love life of the recipient (mostly wondering whether there is one). There are some slightly more straightforward (and cheeky) updates about the people they know. It’s reminiscent of some of Emily Dickinson’s letters to her brother in which she strings him along just to exercise her pen, to give Austin something to read while he’s away from home.

The transcription below is cleaned up a bit to make it easier to read, with punctuation added here and there, a few spellings corrected, and with “clarified” sketches as accompaniment.

Amherst Aug. XXIII, 1846

“How are you Bill, what’s the NEWS?

“I’m well enough.  How be you old cove? I didn’t know as you was alive. How did you expect to hear news from me a professional character unless you correspond oftener. Hey?”

Perhaps you may say Mr. Editor that a poor excuse is better than none but you must know in your peculiar capacity that it’s rather of a hard case to get up an article without “matter,” or (to deviate from the term used by your fraternity), a difficult “matter” to write when there’s nothing to write. For all that, you may say that I may make the attempt. I will, and [if?] you will probably be obliged to spare but a few of your valuable moments to run it over, it may, I hope, command a little attention, for I suppose that it is with you as with us a letter from either is acceptable. Father’s health is a great deal better than it has been. His deafness is almost over with, he is about every day, though he has not worked in the shop for two months. Mother, Eliza, and Dwight’s folks are well, but Mary Taylor is quite sick with the typhus fever. I heard today that she was a little better. Minerva & Phila were up there one day this week. Phila has been with us a few days, she is sick now and has had a physician. Her health for a month or two past has been improving, she has been staying in Ashfield at her sister’s. Laurette is in visiting at Cambridge I believe. Mary Stacy is in town, she was down to our house last week with Stephen Hubbard. Hiram Fox has sold out to Merrick Marsh and is going to Baltimore. Needham has gone home to stay a spell. [Very] dull times since commencement. I understand Hon. Dickinson [Judge John Dickinson?] is going to live with Martha Kellogg soon, and yet another Dr. Fish* is a going to marry that dried up and wrinkled specimen of a maid (Old [Pickle?]alias) Old Priest Nelson’s Daughter. What a number of  she will break.

 

Speaking of courtship, love, and marriage, the Junior editor of the W. Tower has probably learned by “sad experience long ere this that “the course of true love never did RUN smooth” or that “come weal come woe” go where you will the object of our attachment will surely follow even though we plunge into the foaming billows she “our” adored is near us, close to our HEELS.

 

You probably have seen the proceedings here on commencement they were about as usual not over nor above interesting. I think myself that the Circus which was in East Street drew quite as large a congregation of the people as they had two exercises, crowded, and very good. I understand they made a fine appearance as they came in from N. Hampton about ½ past 8 in the morning just as the church open[ed] to ladies. The band looked & played finely, in uniform and “drawn by a splendid omnibus drawn by 12 beautiful cream colored horses.” Who should I see but Severus Brisbee that morning. You know he has been gone a good while to sea, he has been in town I understand several weeks. We did not have much company, Dwight’s folks had the most. Calvin his wife, Hannah, and her son, aunt [Kilton?] went home with them. Horace and his wife were down to Dicks. I did not see them, they are a going out to Mt. Morris, N. York soon I believe. Charles was down. Speaking of Music I did not think the N. York Cornet band 5 of them played near well as the Boston Brass last year, it was the general opinion. They paid them $150.00-. Dewey spent a couple of days with me, the day after we went on to Mt. Norwottuck with half a dozen others, a fine place I assure [you], and a fine view in a clear day. Dewy thinks of going down east on a singing tour again I believe.

 

You don’t inform us what progress you make with the fair sex. I trust in your responsible station your [ideas] of proper respect, & sincere protestations will be strictly adhered to. You have some idea of the pangs of “ill requited hafection” and know that when she loves the lord of her   she loves him over all others, and when in your noonday walks she invokes you to admire “the brilliant orb of day,” while you think it round as a cheese and bright as a lanthorn, she thinks and how otherwise that you are the man she took you to be. Then it becomes you a professional character, as a man of character, to put on a bold and confiding face and speak of the ardour of your affections, and the sincerity of your intentions.

  Perhaps your mind may wander back to the time when you sipt the delicious current nectar wine without ceremony in her parlour as none but a “lover “ ever enjoyed that privilege, and anticipate the time, when the silken tie that binds 2 willing  is consummated, you can sing in character “My wife shall dance and I will sing so merrily & pass the day for I hold it one of the wisest things to drive dull care away” or, if my lord prefers, the WOODEN SHOE DANCE.

 

If you are disappointed in this silly article I refer you to my apology and to an oldage [sic] “a little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men” hem hem. Now William I will thank you to write soon, just insert an occasional adventure anything to fill up (as above). “Mother says tell William to be sure and come home Thanksgiving, and not work so hard as to get sick.” You have it word for word. If there’s anythink [sic] that you care about that I have not mentioned, name it and you shall have it if it is in my power to picture it out or communicate in any way. This is without doubt from your absent brother H.C. Kellogg.

Addressed to Wm. W. Kellogg Esq, Georgetown, Ma.  With a postmark “Amherst Aug [21?]. Along the edge, “H. C. Kellogg, Recv’d Aug 23, 1845,” presumably in William’s hand.  Did William note the date later? He’s off by a year: the New York Cornet Band was at the 1846 commencement, and Henry’s “6” is easily taken for a “5.”

* “Another Dr. Fish” is Dr. Seth Fish.  In September 1846 Dr. Seth Fish married Emily D. Nelson, daughter of “Old Priest Nelson,” Stephen S. Nelson, a founder of the “Amherst Branch of the First Baptist Church in New Salem” (History of Amherst, Carpenter & Morehouse, p. 234).  Amherst College has administrative offices in the building now.  Dr. Fish’s son was Dr. D.B.N. (Dyer Ball Nelson) Fish (AC 1862 but non-grad), the “strange physician” who attended Dickinson when she fainted in August 1884 (see Johnson’s Letters, no. 907).

It’s Homecoming Week at FSU and there have been many exciting events happening around campus for students and alumni. Homecoming is always a festive time of year at FSU, with events like Pow Wow, Warchant, the Homecoming parade, and the Homecoming football game to keep folks busy all week.

Please enjoy some photographs and ephemera from past Homecoming activities.

To see more photographs, ephemera, and artifacts related to the history of Florida State, check out the FSU Heritage Protocol Digital Collections or like the Heritage Protocol Facebook page.

John Atkin and Michael Kluckner have curated two new “Through the Lens” shows for the H.R. MacMillan Space Centre’s digital Planetarium Star Theatre. Using historic photographs from the early 20^th century paired with contemporary shots of the same locations, these “indoor” digital walking tours allow you to experience the changes that have occurred in our city over the past 100 years.

The Canadian Fishing Co. Ltd. and New England Fish Co. building on the Gore Avenue Wharf, 1920. Reference Code: AM54-S4-3-: PAN N163

The historic images come primarily from the Archives’ W. J. Moore panorama negatives, which we’ve featured here before. Remarkably, the Space Centre uses the same high-resolution JPG images that you can download from our online search and projects them to fill the dome of the Star Theatre. They are matched with stunning modern panoramas and other audiovisual elements to produce two unique shows. This year, there will also be some historic aerial views which, on the planetarium dome, promise to provide a unique, if dizzying, perspective on the city.

Aerial view of Kitsilano Beach and Park, 1945 Reference code AM54-S4-: Air P28

Last year, Through the Lens: Building Vancouver’s History, was so popular it sold out and was repeated earlier this year. Don’t miss your chance to see this year’s shows!

7:00pm Thursday, November 13 (Michael Kluckner)
7:00pm Thursday, November 20 (John Atkin)

Tickets available at the door

There is little doubt that Norman Corwin is the most celebrated writer, director and producer of radio drama ever. At a time when radio was the dominant medium his works helped to ramp-up the national morale and patriotic fervor following the savage attack at Pearl Harbor and to celebrate the victories over Germany and Japan in 1945. Afterward his many works for United Nations radio underscored the need for human rights and international cooperation. He continued to write noted works for the stage, television  and other venues, and to teach, until his death in 2011 at the age of 101.

Corwin became known as ‘the poet laureate of radio.’ It was a title that had at its root his first radio job with WBZA, a small Massachusetts station owned by the Springfield Republican. There he launched the poetry program Rhymes and Cadences. By 1937 Corwin moved to New York and took the show with him to WQXR where it aired as Poetic License. Hearing the program, William B. Lewis, the vice president of programming at CBS, invited the young talent to CBS. Not quite 28, in December, 1938 Corwin relaunched his poetry broadcasts on the network as Words Without Music.

Above is a brief interview with Corwin done by WNYC’s Sarah Montague and below, a rare copy of WQXR’s Poetic License from January 5, 1938. In this segment Corwin finds dynamic ways of introducing and discussing poetry and women poets.

Thirty-five years later Corwin would write to WQXR co-founder Elliott Sanger:

“I had no idea [WQXR’s] beginnings were so humble —$5 for a spot announcement, and a gross monthly income (in the year you took me on) of less than $200 for two summer months. Of course, I was paid nothing for Poetic License, but it seemed to me then that the price was right; and in terms of the good it did me, I might have paid you for the privilege.” *

By 1942, Corwin was a well established star at CBS. But he took some time-out to consult for a revival of some of his most popular works at WNYC known as The Corwin Cycle. Working with WNYC drama director Mitchell Grayson and the actor House Jameson, (pictured above) among others,  these dramas included Fly Through the Air With the Greatest of Ease, The Odyssey of Runyan Jones, Oracle of Philadelphia, To Tim at 20, My Client Curley, Descent of the Gods, Good Heaven, Samson, Daybreak and Mary the Fairy. The Brooklyn Eagle’s  radio columnist Jo Ranson described the series as  “a fine idea…because the able writer has something to say, and always says it with vigor and wisdom.” The revival garnered the award for Outstanding Drama Series in 1942 from the Institute for Education by Radio at Ohio State University.

* Langguth, A.J., Norman, Ed., Norman Corwin’s Letters, Barricade Books, Inc., New York, 1994, pg. 314.

If you walked by the front of Carnegie Hall 50 years ago today, you would have seen a large crowd gathering, a brass ensemble from the Citywide Junior High School Orchestra sitting, and a small temporary curtain hanging at eye level under one of the brass lanterns. At noon, a fanfare sounded, marking the beginning of a ceremony during which Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall declared Carnegie Hall to be a National Landmark.

If you were instead listening to WNYC at that hour, you would have also heard Secretary Udall proclaim Carnegie Hall’s historic significance as he then introduced Mayor Robert Wagner, who praised the dedicated committee that led the successful fight to save the Hall from demolition only four years earlier in 1960.  The leader of that group, violinist Isaac Stern, received a loud round of much deserved applause. He had convinced the mayor that the City of New York should purchase Carnegie Hall—the first time the City had purchased a building to save it from demolition. Convincing the City had not been an easy task: saving buildings wasn’t part of the natural mind set of the day.  Old buildings came down; new ones went up.  Some might have protested an impending threat but most just lamented the loss after it was too late.  In fact, Secretary Udall mentioned that George Washington’s plantation, Mt. Vernon, barely escaped the wrecker’s ball, thanks to another dedicated committee; it was made a National Landmark only in 1960.

Carnegie Hall Landmark Certificate

(Carnegie Hall Archives)

 In 1959, ground had been broken for Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, and it was then being heralded as the greatest performing arts complex in the world. A major feature was a new home for the New York Philharmonic, which had used Carnegie Hall as its home base since 1892. It was thought that New York City could not support two concert halls —and Robert Moses, one of the most powerful men in New York City’s political history and whose dream it was to give New York City a performing arts center, wanted no competition. Moses usually got his way, so  Carnegie Hall seemed doomed and headed in the same direction as Penn Station, the Ziegfeld Theater, and hundreds of other historic or cherished structures that were demolished in the name of progress.

There were other dedicated committees to help “save Carnegie Hall” that came and went, beginning as early as 1955. Their energies and sincerities were in the right place and kept the cause in the public eye. What they didn’t have were the fame, connections, and the power of persuasion that Isaac Stern had. He also had something else they lacked: a vision for what to do with the Hall once it was saved. He assured all concerned it would not be competition for the new music complex. Rather, he saw Carnegie Hall as a center for music education.  He even suggested that it might, one day, become the home base of a national youth orchestra.

Everyone learned quickly that New York City could indeed support two concert halls. Carnegie Hall and its three stages never closed, its Weill Music Institute now creates some of the most respected music education programs in the world, and the National Youth Orchestra of the USA has just completed its second year. 

In 1964, Secretary Udall parted the small curtain and revealed a bronze plaque which remains on the front of Carnegie Hall’s building to this day. On it is written “This site possesses exceptional value in commemorating and illustrating the history of the United States.”  Andrew Carnegie would have been thrilled. It confirms his prophetic words of 74 years earlier at the laying of Carnegie Hall’s cornerstone on May 13, 1890. Standing very near where the plaque is today, Carnegie promised, “It is built to stand for ages and during these ages it is probable that this hall will intertwine itself with the history of our country.”

In 1993, the day before their visit to our studios, Tom and Ray Magliozzi had accepted a Peabody Award for ‘Car Talk.’  At the studio, they reveal their hidden talent as Bluegrass musicians and take some fake calls from our staff.

Did you go to LiveFriday at the Ashmolean on Friday 31st? On LiveFridays, the Museum opens up its doors to the public for a fun evening of events, creative workshops and entertainment. This time, the theme was ‘Egyptomania’, to tie in with the Tutankhamun Exhibition, with extra ghoulishness for Halloween. The Ashmolean was packed with visitors – this is a really popular event.

Photograph: Katharina Ulmschneider

Our own Katharina was there talking to visitors about Jacobsthal’s camel – there is a whole story behind this camel, which we discovered when we were working on the Jacobsthal project – we are writing it up and will let you know when we finally get around to publishing it.

Dancing the Charleston in the West Meets East Gallery. Photo: Katharina Ulmschneider

Our Historic Environment Image Resource had its first museum outing, supporting the brilliant Photobooth. Lucie from the Ashmolean chose some of the Egypt images from HEIR, which were projected onto a green screen in a Photobooth.

There were costumes to dress up in, then you entered the Photobooth and chose your favourite background to be pictured against…

Dressing up for the photobooth – the things we do for the archives…

Katharina wasn’t the only one wanting a picture of her time-warp ‘travels’ – this is the queue…

Queuing for the Photobooth. Photo: Katharina Ulmschneider

The Institute of Archaeology’s Ian Cartwright was there giving a great talk on Harry Burton, the photographer of the Pharoahs. Other old photograph events included the amazing ‘Professor’ Heard’s Frightful Magic Lantern Show.

A glimpse of ‘Professor’ Heard’s original magic lantern slide projector…

There were too many highlights to list them all here, but other favourites for us included the Pop Up Charleston Demonstrations, the Vintage DJ and Dance Floor, and a gruesome talk on Mummification, Dismemberment, and ancient Egyptian Funerals.

We are looking forward to the next LiveFriday…

Happy Halloween from FSU Special Collections! The students at FSCW loved a good costume, and didn’t feel the need to wait until Halloween to dress up, often getting gussied up for class demonstrations, club initiations, or just because they wanted to have some fun. Please enjoy some photographs of FSCW students in costume!

If you like these photographs, be sure to check out our latest exhibit “That I May Remember: Scrapbooks of the Florida State College for Women 1905-1947″ in the Special Collections & Archives Gallery, open Monday-Friday 10AM-6PM.

On October 17, 1964, the world woke up to the shocking news that Communist China had tested a nuclear weapon. Codenamed “596”, the test had successfully detonated a Uranium atom bomb in the remote Lop Nur desert the day before. “In delivering a heavy blow at the imperialist United States and its lackeys, the success of China’s nuclear test lends firm support to those oppressed nations and people in their struggle for liberation”, an official communique stated.

How surprised was the U.S. administration? Although most in the Lyndon Johnson administration knew a test was more or less imminent, as late as one week earlier they were not sure of when to expect it; that summer many in the CIA had doubted it would happen before the end of the year, while the State Department had estimated an October 1 date. But to most citizens the news was shocking, in light of the American and Russian efforts on nuclear disarmament and especially the signing of the Limited-Test Ban Treaty the previous summer (although China never signed it). As you can hear in the two snippets above, President Johnson had to toe the line between disapproval and alarm.

The President’s tone may have been more than a façade. Months before and after the Chinese test, top advisers had discussed the possibility of attacking Chinese nuclear test facilities. But President Johnson seems to have sided with those suggesting a more diplomatic approach; he even disliked even the comparatively mild 1965 report from the Committee on Nuclear Proliferation (the Gilpatric Report), barring it from circulation beyond his cabinet. We should be happy that cooler heads prevailed; pulling the trigger on perceived nuclear threats has often meant trouble at other times.

Insitutiones chirurgicae… by Lorenz Heister, 1739.

Forget witches, goblins and ghouls, for a truly terrifying time there is nothing like a stroll through medical history.

De morbis acutis et chronocis by Caelius Aurelianus, 1709.

For instance, perhaps you’d prefer a doctor who wasn’t nostalgic for the era of the toga-clad practitioners?

The miraculous conformist by Henry Stubbe, 1666.

Perhaps “Marvailous Cures performed by the stroaking of the Hands” sounds like a euphemism you’d rather not explore further? (At least not with him.)

Opera Omnia by Thomas Willis, 1682.

Seventeenth century brain surgery anyone?

The medical and surgical history of the war of the rebellion, United States Surgeon-General’s Office, 1879.

The civil war wasn’t a real good time to need a doctor either, although they were really trying hard and taking LOTS of notes. A+ for effort.

The medical and surgical history of the war of the rebellion, United States Surgeon-General’s Office, 1879.

A treatise of the first part of Chirurgerie by Alexander Reed, 1638.

Not sure whether to be more concerned about the idea of “the reunition of the parts of the bodie disjoyned” or the fact that you could still check this book out of the library in 1941.

The English house-wife by Markham Gervase, 1683.

It wasn’t just doctors undertaking questionable cures, of course. This compendium of all the knowledge necessary to be a good English house-wife in 1683 has cures for hundreds of day-to-day complaints. Say you’re pissing in bed, just drink dried kid hoof in beer four or five times a day.

The English house-wife by Markham Gervase, 1683.

Burnt your man parts? (And who hasn’t?) Linen ash in egg oyle ought to do it.

The English house-wife by Markham Gervase, 1683.

Plague, on the other hand, you’ll have to find some Dragon water for that.

An elementary compendium of physiology by Francois Magendie, 1831.

Let’s not even discuss where they got their cadavers in 1831.

Insitutiones chirurgicae… by Lorenz Heister, 1739.

And, last but not least, the mother-lode of terrifying old medicine: this surgical manual from 1739 and its dozens of large illustrations of surgical tools and techniques. Click through to see much more detail than you really want.

Insitutiones chirurgicae… by Lorenz Heister, 1739.

Eye surgery, anyone?

Insitutiones chirurgicae… by Lorenz Heister, 1739.

What really gets me is how calm all these patients look.

Insitutiones chirurgicae… by Lorenz Heister, 1739.

I think this might be treppaning. It is certainly ALL WRONG.

Insitutiones chirurgicae… by Lorenz Heister, 1739.

Why? WHY?

Insitutiones chirurgicae… by Lorenz Heister, 1739.

What even?

Insitutiones chirurgicae… by Lorenz Heister, 1739.

Eighteenth century obstetrics. Stuff of nightmares.

Believe it or not there were a good half dozen pages of this book that were too horrible to share even here.

Observations, anatomical and physiological by Alexander Monro, 1758.

(tongue-out-of-cheek, these medical pioneers laid the foundation for all the wonders of hygiene, precision, and efficacy that we now enjoy. They were doing the best they could. Really…. Except maybe Mr. Hands up there…)

All these book (and many more) are available in Archives and Special Collections. Come on over and disturb yourself in living color!

Pulitzer Prize winner Galway Kinnell dies at the age of 87.

Nearly fifty years ago, Galway Kinnell read Walt Whitman’s “To the States” during a rally protesting the Vietnam War.  In 2003, on the eve of the United States invasion of Iraq, Kinnell was reminded of Whitman’s words again.    

I think particularly of his words “resist much, obey little” — don’t do what people tell you. Don’t believe what the government tells you to believe…test it against your own instincts, your own sense of what is right and what is practical and what is responsible and refuse to do what seems reckless and actually not in the interests of our own country.

To The States
To the States or any one of them, or any city of the
States, Resist
much, obey little,
Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved,
Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth, ever
afterward resumes its liberty.

Galway Kinnell from the Academy of American Poets
The Walt Whitman archive

Some readers may remember the crime-fighting David Hasselhoff driving an artificially intelligent 1982 Pontiac Trans Am in the ’80s TV show Knight Rider and a few may even recall the ’60s sitcom with Jerry Van Dyke and his loquacious maternal 1928 Porter touring car in My Mother the Car. But, before them all was Josephine, the talking Jeep on WNYC.

During World War II WNYC was cranking out war-related programming on a full-time basis. These broadcasts included afternoon music shows made for playing over the P.A. systems of local defense plants, programs about food rationing and metal collection as well as dramas about refugees and battlefield encounters.  Echoes of War was one such series. Airing on Tuesday evenings in 1944 the show was billed as an “attempt to portray some of the background history and interesting sidelights of America’s great current struggle in the cause of freedom.”

The first radio play in the series was Come Josephine. Written by WNYC news director Mitchell Jablons, the drama takes a whimsical approach to its serious subject by having the story told from the point of view of a ‘female’ army Jeep named Josephine. She describes her relationship with “her” soldier, Joe and their various exploits fighting fascists. The production scores relatively high on the hokum meter, but is typical of the patriotic material that was broadcast at the time.

The program originally aired on WNYC, July 11, 1944. Edie Kroll played the role of Josephine and Delmar Knutzman played the American soldier Joe. The drama was produced and directed by Nathan M. Rubin.

This is what you look like when you mix Schlitz and wine

You’ve got five fingers. Why would you smoke just one pipe?

Halloween is days away, so this seemed like a good time to revive our Magician of the Week series. These images are taken from M-U-M: Magic, Unity, Might magazine:

And just a reminder that if you’re still figuring out your Halloween plans, we’ll be having a good time here at the library that night. Tickets are still available.

What was the state of cancer in mid twentieth century America? There was no “cure,” nor was there a consensus on causation; but in the mind of the American public, with its almost unwavering faith in science and medicine, cancer had shifted from being a death sentence, whispered about as the “c” word, to an often treatable disease. The mantra from public officials became “many cancers are treatable if caught early enough.”

When Dr. Leona Baumgartner, the new NYC Health Commissioner, stepped on the podium at the New York Academy of Medicine on October 26, 1954, cancer had moved up to the second leading cause of death in New York City and nationally. Death rates due to cancer had more than tripled in 50 years, but Dr. Baumgartner, expertly threading the line between reassurance and concern, assures the audience (including WNYC listeners) that the statistics provide a somewhat false impression of cancer mortality. She explains that the numerical rise is attributable to three factors: (1) better diagnosis, (2) more accurate reporting of the causes of death and (3) the conquest of most communicable diseases, which allowed a much larger proportion of the population to live into late middle age and old age —precisely the age at which many cancers strike.

By the time of this speech, cancer awareness and education were not new, having formally begun before World War I; the Second World War and the subsequent Cold War led to significant investment by the federal government in scientific and medical research (as well as a concern about the effects of radiation, but that’s another story). The best defense, it seemed, was an early offense, so public cancer control strategies focused on early detection and mass screenings. Commissioner Baumgartner saw cancer control as a four-part program: her speech focuses on the interdependency of (1) the Department of Health, (2) voluntary agencies, (3) private practice physicians and (4) educated New Yorkers. Thus it would be through mass and individual action —through agencies, professionals and people— that the dread disease could be tamed.

Widespread education was seen as a prerequisite of cancer control, so the Department of Health‘s role in this respect was threefold. It tried to educate the public, individuals and family doctors about possible cancer symptoms; to encourage individuals to get in the habit of seeing the family physician annually; and to make the family doctor aware of his important role in the process of early detection. The Department also ran three cancer detection centers: the first opened in 1947 and two more were added in 1951. Admission was restricted to women 30 years and over and men 35 years and over, who had no cancer symptoms.

Of equal importance was the support provided by voluntary agencies, particularly the New York City Cancer Committee. This organization, founded in 1926 as a local branch of the American Society for the Control of Cancer (later the American Cancer Society), focused on early detection. The Cancer Committee funded a cytological service for indigent patients in Manhattan and the Bronx. Doctors could take a Papanicolaou smear (the pap smear) in their offices and send it for analysis free of charge. The Cancer Committee funded some of the Department’s cancer detection centers as well.

Because the detection centers could only serve a fraction of the population needing annual examinations, the private practitioner’s role in cancer detection was paramount. In her speech Dr. Baumgartner reminds family physicians that they are in the best position to examine what she calls “accessible sites” —the skin, oral cavity, breast, rectum, prostate and uterus— during routine visits. “Every Doctor’s Office a Detection Clinic” was the goal of the New York City Department of Health’s cancer control program.

The final component to a successful plan of early detection, control and treatment was the patient. Dr. Baumgartner believed the plan would only work if individuals were equipped to take the first step. She did not believe in fear as a tactic but wanted to encourage all New Yorkers to take advantage of the health care resources of their city. This started with an annual visit to the family doctor’s office. An educated patient would be aware of potential symptoms related to cancer and would report them to the doctor, who, in turn, would start the process of initial testing to reach a diagnosis. According to Dr. Baumgartner, the “individual must assume personal responsibility” for his or her health and “seek care in an intelligent way.” In this regard the Health Department, in conjunction with the Cancer Committee, taught women the correct method by which to examine their own breasts monthly using films and leaflets. And long before the women’s health movement of the 1970s, the Department initiated a pilot program, in which women would prepare their own slide for a pap smear and send it to a laboratory for analysis. It was called S.O.S. – self-obtained smear. Dr. Baumgartner was clear that this was not a substitute for a visit to the doctor but may have served as an incentive to get women to make a visit. Finally, the Department also provided free kits for all interested physicians in Manhattan and the Bronx and the Cancer Committee funded the analysis of the smears at New York University – Bellevue College of Medicine and at Harlem Hospital.

Where does that leave us today in terms of cancer control? Cancer deaths are still the number two cause of death in New York City, but the death rate has declined. Perhaps more interestingly, data on cancer incidence vs. mortality show that Leona Baumgartner and other public health leaders were correct: when caught in time, the most common forms of cancer are quite treatable. Moreover, the same four prongs of cancer control are still as essential today as they were in 1954. Public health campaigns must remind us of potential symptoms; voluntary health agencies still remind us to be ever vigilant (pink is everywhere); primary care physicians, who are the only contact with the medical profession for many Americans, need to be on the lookout for these symptoms and must make recommendations for further testing and treatment when appropriate; and we, as individuals, must absorb all of this information and have a duty to ourselves to act on it.

The Baumgartner speech also provides us with a glimpse of the time when a tidal shift occurred in the focus of many health departments, from the containment of contagious diseases to the control of chronic diseases, like cancer, heart disease and diabetes. This shift has prevailed until today.

New York City, 2007-2011, rate per 100,000 people

(https://www.health.ny.gov/statistics/cancer/registry/vol1/v1rnyc.htm)

Are we living out Norbert Wiener’s worst nightmares? Wiener, the inventor of cybernetics, is often thought of as the expansive (and partially jealous) counterpart to Claude Shannon, the reclusive, meticulous goldsmith of the mathematics behind communication theory. Indeed, although both men were the primary architects of information theory (which, among other things, allows you to reliably read these words on your screen), Wiener was far more willing to appear in public —and to publicly express his misgivings about the ways in which communications (and science in general) were being used within a human society. When he says in 1950 “The idol is the gadget and I know very great engineers who never think further than the construction of the gadget and never think of the question of the integration between the gadget and human beings in society,” is he taking a stab at the insular Claude Shannon?

Two broadcasts on WNYC from the New York Academy of Medicine are classic Wiener. Ever aware (not to say fond) of connections between apparently-disparate realms, his 1953 “lecture to the laity” expounds on causality in Newtonian physics, operational analysis, quantum mechanics, and homeostatic disruptions as a possible cause of cancer (all of this, of course, while repeatedly going off-mic —something he was famous for).

His earlier 1950 lecture is perchance an even more expansive and virtuosic gem, building a grand arc from the minutiae of anti-aircraft ballistics to automatic safety systems and to gadget worshiping. The final, grand message —that machines are really powerful, that they must be understood, and that human power should be used for “an end to which we can give a justifiable human value” is then brilliantly connected (spoiler alert!) back down to the earthy medieval notion of the wish-granting talisman, the monkey’s paw.

In the lecture Wiener also references an image from a New Yorker cartoon which shows a factory in which an assembly line of robots is building the same robots, while the two lone humans wonder what it is all about. In our cybernetic era of self-reflective echo chambers, where information begets more information with no apparent purpose or control mechanisms —not to mention gadget worshiping—, Norbert Wiener may well be turning in his grave. We can’t say he did not warn us. He may have been off-mic, but he was seldom off-target.

The Claude Pepper Library is home to a collection of over 2,000 photographs from Spessard Holland’s long career representing Florida in the United States Senate and as its 28th governor. These images provide a glimpse into his work on behalf of the state of Florida and with many of the preeminent political figures of the 20th century.

Holland was a lifelong resident of Bartow, Florida. He was born in the central Florida town to Benjamin F. and Virginia Holland in 1892. Despite leaving several times – to Atlanta to earn a bachelor’s degree at Emory University, then to Gainesville to study Law at the University of Florida, and to France during his service in the Army Air Corps during World War I – he always returned to his hometown. He was interred in Bartow in 1971 upon his death. The earliest photographs in the series include portraits of Holland as a child and with his fellow service men while stationed in Paris. However the majority of the images, taken during his thirty years in office, are devoted to Holland’s political work.

During the United States involvement in World War II, Holland served as the 28^th Governor of Florida. He oversaw Florida’s participation in the wartime defense effort and the development of infrastructure to support this growth. The series of photographs illustrates Holland’s term in office from Election Day in 1940 through his departure in 1945. These images document Florida’s vital work during World War II at military bases, air fields, and shipyards; as well as Holland’s work on issues of tax reform and sponsoring Florida agriculture, which would remain central policy positions throughout his career. The collection also contains several family photos taken during Holland’s term as governor. These depict Mary Groover Holland in her duties as first lady as well as informal photos of family life in the Governor’s mansion in Tallahassee and throughout Florida.

Governor Millard Caldwell appointed Spessard Holland to the United States Senate on September 25, 1946 following the death of Charles O. Andrews. Holland was formally elected to the seat in November of that year and served four consecutive terms until his retirement in 1971. The political changes that occurred over this quarter century can be witnessed in the collection. Holland’s relationship with the each Presidential administration, working most closely with fellow Democrats Truman and Johnson, is tacit in the images. Frequent travel, a significant part of the Senator’s life, is documented in this collection. Holland would attend events throughout Florida before returning to his senatorial office in Washington D.C., as well as congressional trips to Central America and up to the Pacific Northwest and Alaska.

Holland was committed to the success of the Florida space program. The collection contains images from his frequent trips to the Florida Space Coast taken during his ten years of service on the National Aeronautical and Space Committee. These show visits to launch and training sites as well as the crowds watching the subsequent lift-off. Holland met with the crew of Apollo 11 and the Mercury 7 astronauts, receiving inscribed photographs from Gus Grissom, John Glenn, and Alan Shepard.

Over three decades, the photographs document Spessard Holland’s close relationships with many prominent political figures in Florida, Washington, D.C., and Latin American. Perhaps the most visible of his colleagues were his corresponding Florida Senator Claude Pepper and later George Smathers. The public life of a United States congressman – attending committee meetings, visiting with constituents, luncheons with interest group, and campaign banquets – were often done in conjunction with these men and his fellow Florida representatives.

The images are only part of the Spessard Holland collection. The photographs are held at the Claude Pepper Library along with biographies on Holland’s life, personal correspondence, campaign files, Floridiana, and memorabilia. More images of Spessard Holland during his terms of office can be seen in the Claude Pepper Digital Photograph Collection.

Mary Perot Nichols, a former muckraking columnist and city editor of The Village Voice, served two separate terms as head of WNYC. Strong-willed with a no-nonsense approach to leadership, she advanced WNYC’s independence from the City of New York through the creation of the WNYC Foundation after years of fiscal cutbacks. While Nichols also launched new award-winning programming, she is perhaps best known, unfortunately, for being sabotaged by Mayor Edward Koch on the issue of ‘The John Hour.’ This occurred on October 23, 1979, when WNYC broadcast the names of men convicted of patronizing prostitutes.

The WNYC Foundation

When Ed Koch appointed Nichols to run WNYC in 1978, the stations (AM, FM & TV) were in a dismal state of affairs, both physically and economically. Taking charge during the city’s fiscal crisis and renewed calls for the sale of WNYC (a perennial appeal by station opponents and fiscal conservatives since its founding) proved to be a major challenge. Just four months into the job, Nichols was thoroughly frustrated. In a confidential 10-page memo to Koch she wrote, “I cannot hope to achieve this administration’s twin goals for WNYC–improved programming and financial self-sufficiency without a way to spend my federal and other potential grant funds quickly and creatively.”[1] She went on to attach an appendix of ‘horror stories’ and concluded, “If you want WNYC to become self-sufficient, you must give me the tools to do the job, i.e., a foundation.” [2] Despite the frustration, Nichols was both excited and challenged by WNYC, saying working at the station “was like cooking a gourmet meal while standing on a floor covered with glue.”[3] Thus came a solution that would mark the beginning of the end of WNYC’s relationship with the City of New York. The WNYC Foundation was established on August 10, 1979.[4]

New Programming

Until the foundation took root and funding started to come in Nichols and her staff initiated a number of efforts to support new programming that would expand listenership. Among these were Senior Edition, New York Considered, Morning Pro Musica (from WGBH), a storytelling festival, NPR’s new Morning Edition, and in response to the August, 1978 newspaper strike, The Sunday Papers. Teaming up with NPR and reporters from the Times, News and Post, WNYC produced a news program to fill the gap created by the walkout. The show was patterned after the Sunday newspapers, with a mixture of news and features that New Yorkers were unable to read, including local politics and the courts. It was WNYC’s first effort at national programming in partnership with NPR and the station’s first significant syndication since the 1950s when it was working closely with the National Association of Educational Broadcasters. She obtained a Ford Foundation grant to review radio programming. Nichols and her legal team also seriously looked into the leasing of television air time as a way of broadening the communications group’s revenue stream. She created a development office to bring in non-city monies for renovating the facilities and, with guidance from veteran engineer Chuck Corcoran, established WNYC’s earth station, one of fifteen for the NPR satellite system. The station’s outward identity changed as well. WNYC AM, FM and TV became known as the ‘WNYC Communications Group’ in order to distance itself from the city-bound ‘Municipal Broadcasting System.’ But just as Nichols was gaining some momentum for significant change, she was undermined by her boss.

The John Hour

It has become a part of city folklore as WNYC’s most notorious series. The truth be told, it ran only once and wasn’t an hour, but just under two minutes. The broadcast was announced by Mayor Koch and Manhattan District Attorney Robert Morganthau while Nichols was on vacation in a remote part of Nebraska and not easily reached in this pre-cell phone, pre-Internet period. They argued the airing of the names of convicted ‘Johns’ would act as a deterrent to prostitution by cutting into the demand and that this sort of mayoral dictate over programming was reasonable. For Nichols, it was a foolish bit of political grandstanding by the mayor at a time when she was wooing critical public and foundation support for the stations and needed to demonstrate to donors that WNYC was insulated from whims and abuses of City Hall. News of the pending broadcast spread like wildfire. There was a spoof on Saturday Night Live and an essay by William Safire in the New York Times comparing Ed Koch’s sense of justice with that of Ayatollah Khomeini.[5] Meanwhile, Nichols’ absence left her lieutenants fielding a cascade of calls from the press, and sadly, women who wanted to find out if their husband’s names were on the list. 

Both WMCA and The Daily News voluntarily complied with the appeal by Koch and Morganthau and publicized the names with little fanfare. But Koch himself made the broadcast controversial by effectively ordering WNYC to air it. With of all the hoopla, Nichols made a desperate attempt to make it appear that programming wasn’t being dictated by City Hall, but that WNYC was airing the segment because it was “news.” (The now infamous segment read by announcer Joe Rice below has had the surnames and addresses of individuals obscured.)

Behind the scenes, Nichols demanded Koch hold a breakfast at Gracie Mansion for the directors of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) to assure them he wasn’t dictating programming.[6] In the end, she salvaged the $1.1 million she was hoping for from CPB[7] but lost out on a quarter-of-a-million from the Revson Foundation, a key player in the foundation community. Nichols would later say, “I had worked for two years to build the station up to this, to get this $1.1 million, and here Ed, in some stupid moment, had just about destroyed everything.”[8] NPR head Frank Mankiewicz called it “the most expensive minute and forty-five seconds in the history of public radio”[9] Soon afterward, Nichols decided to accept a job as Director of Communications for the University of Pennsylvania. The Koch Administration brought in WGBH chief John Beck as her replacement.

New York Post headline for the ‘John Hour’ story.

(WNYC Archive Collections)

But that’s not the end of the story!  For more, go to Mary Perot Nichols: Guiding WNYC’s Rebirth and Renewal – Part 2

_______________________

[1] Nichols, Mary Perot, Confidential memo to Edward Koch, October 5, 1978, pg. 1. La Guardia and Wagner Archives, Edward I. Koch collection.

[2] Ibid. pg. 10.

[3] Phone conversation with Mary Daly, October 21, 2014.

[4] Nichols’ predecessor Arnold Labaton had tried to free up funding for WNYC by making the station a public benefit corporation, a move requiring legislation from Albany. Language was drafted but there were some concerns with the civil service status of employees as well as operating in a public building with equipment purchased with public funds. As a result, the effort got little traction. By the time Nichols was appointed by Koch, the station had been raising money on the air in an effort to get around some of more onerous municipal government rules. Still, there were a number of issues to address in order to keep that private money from going into the city’s byzantine financial structure.

[5] Safire, William, “The John Hour,” The New York Times, October 11, 1979, pg. A2.

[6] Reminiscences of Mary Perot Nichols, Columbia University Center for Oral History Collection (hereafter CUCOHC), pgs. 74-75.

[7] On December 2, 1979 CPB awarded WNYC a $1.1 million five-year station improvement grant. The money was earmarked for increasing the quality and variety of programming. It was the fourth and largest single grant of its kind that the Corporation for Public Broadcasting had ever given. Programs supported by these funds included: a series of live concert broadcasts; the “Broadway Radio Hour,” a thirteen-part history of the American musical theater, hosted by Dorothy Rodgers; the “WPA Writers Project;” an oral history of the 1930s federal arts program for the elderly; “O’ Aural Tradition,” a dramatization of the Tristan and El Cid myths; and the “Lonely Passion of Simple Simon,” an original opera for radio by Eric Salzman. Funds were also to be used for showcasing the work of the nation’s best independent radio producers.

[8] Reminiscences of Mary Perot Nichols, CUCOHC, pg. 75.

[9] Ibid. pg. 73.

Special thanks to Eliza Nichols, Evelyn Junge, Mary Daly and B.J. Kowalski.

Three years pass and Mary Perot Nichols returns to helm of WNYC. John Beck’s efforts to emphasize new music over traditional classical music and Black-oriented programming on WNYC TV, among other things, did not go over well with the Koch Administration. City Hall had made a major commitment to WNYC by undertaking the renovation of its WPA-era facilities before Nichols’ departure, and that work was well under way by her return. The WNYC Foundation she jumpstarted in her first term was now bringing in a significant amount of money for a variety of special projects and programming. Here too Nichols was able to hit the ground running, with key staff and procedures in place for expanded programming.  But first, there was some old business to address.

Small Things Considered

One of the first things Nichols did when she came to WNYC in 1978 was take Ireene Wicker, ‘The Singing Lady’, off the air. She felt the show was antiquated and not reaching New York’s kids. “When I was a child I listened to The Singing Lady, and I hated her!” she said.[1] It’s true, Wicker had been doing a children’s radio broadcast since the 1930s, first on the networks and then on WNYC from the late 1950s, receiving a Peabody Award in 1961. Her approach could be considered a bit dated and Nichols had other ideas about what constituted award-winning children’s programming. Shortly after her return in 1984, she launched, Small Things Considered with just $1,500 in discretionary funds. With additional funding and development, the kids program quickly turned into a popular, fast-paced aural potpourri of games, music, call-ins, and banter between jovial hosts Cathy O’Connell and Larry Orfaly. The duo was complemented by frequent visits from characters like the Duke of Words, Z-Know the Alien, and Dr. Rita Book — all with their own peripatetic definitions, geography lessons and reading recommendations.

Small Things Considered won a Peabody and other major awards after its first year on the air but generated some heat between WNYC and NPR, prompting the show to change its name to Kids America. Distributed nationally by American Public Radio, the show was a success as the nation’s only live daily radio program for children. It ended after nearly four years on the air. Replacement funding failed to materialize, and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) was no longer willing to underwrite half of the show’s budget in an increasingly competitive public radio marketplace.[2]

The Fiorello H. La Guardia Telecommunications Center

Fortunately for Nichols, the bulk of the studio renovations took place while she was in Philadelphia, sparing her the headache of ad hoc operations in the midst of major construction. What was state-of-the-art for radio in 1937 was replaced with state-of-the-art in 1985; a real sea-change going from tubes to solid state and transistors. With significant planning and support from Chuck Corcoran, Chief of Operations, and Nichols’ dedicated staff, the ribbon cutting ceremony (below) of December 11, 1985 was made possible.

WNYC Director Mary Perot Nichols at the opening of WNYC’s new studios, December 11, 1985.

(WNYC Archive Collections)

Nichols oversaw the revamping of the FM schedule to emphasize live series like the “Mostly Mozart” concerts from Lincoln Center and New York Cabaret Nights, as well as existing broadcasts from the Frick Collection, the BAM Chamber Music Series, New Sounds at Merkin Hall, the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra and the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. Collaborations with a variety of cultural institutions resulted in special programs like “Censorship,” based on the New York Public Library’s major exhibition in 1984. Nichols brought Leonard Lopate on board in 1985. Her programming for women gained a brief funding foothold with Speaking for Ourselves, and then New Sounds began national distribution. Radio listenership spiked for both AM and FM. The FM and TV transmitters were moved to the World Trade Center by the end of 1986. The following year David Garland launched Spinning on Air.

During this period, major changes came to WNYC-TV as well, bringing it into its own, rather than being a shadow of WNET. About 18 months after Nichols’ return, Channel 31’s viewership had increased more than seven-fold from 90,000 to 698,000. By July of 1986, much of WNYC TV’s daytime air was being leased out to independent Japanese, Italian and Chinese producers aiming shows at those particular foreign language communities in the city. To be sure, it was an unusual arrangement for a public television station, but doable since Channel 31 was a commercial license.  Along with the non-for-profit WNYC Foundation, this was welcome change for the WNYC Communications Group cash flow.

WNYC’s 65th Anniversary

The station’s 65th anniversary year in 1989 provided an opportunity to really highlight some gems from the past while also revitalizing the seemingly quaint medium of radio drama. The Radio Stage debuted in April of that year, the result of a two year collaboration between WNYC and many of the city’s finest theaters. The eleven-part series featured new works by Elizabeth Swados, Wendy Wasserstein, Thomas Babe, Len Jenkin and Eric Overmyer and included Joan Allen, Victor Garber, Carol Kane and ensembles like Mambou Mines and John Houseman’s The Acting Company. 1989 also saw the hiring of Brian Lehrer as host of On The Line.

On the legal and technical side, Nichols worked closely with Execuitive Officer Evelyn Junge and Operations Chief Chuck Corcoran to get WNYC-AM to a place where it no longer had to sign off at sundown, a vestige of the longest running frequency dispute in FCC history. This included moving the transmitter to New Jersey and a frequency shift from 830 to 820 kilocycles. But perhaps more radical was the brief jolt she sent through the listening audience shortly before she left in 1990 by announcing the firing of Morning Music host Steve Post during a station fundraiser in late March. She claimed the dismissal was based on a variety of crimes, including allegations of “financial and military ties between myself and various fascist dictators.” The announcement was soon revealed to be an early April Fools Day prank, as she said Post would be restored to the air if enough listeners pledged to become members.[3]

____________________________________

[1]  Reminiscences of Mary Perot Nichols, Columbia University Center for Oral History Collection (hereafter CUCOHC), pg. 6.

[2] Yarrow, Andrew, “Children’s Radio Show is Canceled,” The New York Times, January 2, 1988, pg. 17.

[3] Andersen, Susan Heller, “Chronicle,” The New York Times, March 29, 1990, pg. B24.

Special thanks to Eliza Nichols, Evelyn Junge, Mary Daly and B.J. Kowalski.

The holdings of the National Archives are vast. With more than 12 billion pages of textual records alone, it is essential that we continue to explore and employ innovative strategies to provide effective access. By understanding how you currently access our records and better understanding your unique needs, we will be better positioned to ensure your success in using the country’s records.

Analyzing our work.
From Record Group 208: Records of the Office of War Information, 1926 – 1951. National Archives Identifier: 535579

Here’s what some of our data shows:

Physical Visits:

Number of visits to all NARA facilities in FY2014: 4,163,905; up from 4,112,813 in FY13

• Number of visits to our exhibits in FY2014: 3,451,044; up from 3,204,642 in FY13
• Number of researcher visits to all NARA facilities in FY2014: 104,366; down from 114,096 in FY13

Number of written requests answered by all NARA offices in FY2014: 1,065,513; down from 1,132,525 in FY13

• Number of written requests (includes fax, letter, email) received by all NARA archival offices in FY2014: 114,577; down from 122,442 in FY13
• Number of written requests received by the St. Louis Military Personnel Records Center in FY2014: 950,936; down from 1,010,083 in FY13

Website and Online Catalog:

• Traffic to Archives.gov: We had 31,093,042 visits from 22,869,469 visitors who viewed 86,729,808 pages, up 6% from FY13
• Percentage of online users

… [ Read all ]

Here in Archives & Special Collections we have a large and interesting collection of fine press books — that is, the work of small presses that produced, in limited numbers, books featuring design, typography, paper, ink and illustrations of the finest quality. It has been my lucky task this week to organize and catalog our wonderful collection of one of those fine printers, the Harbor Press, which operated in New York City from 1925 to 1942.  Specifically, I am working on our collection of Harbor Press ephemera — not its books, but all the flyers, greeting cards, advertisements, labels, letterheads, trade cards, bookplates, etc., which the Press produced for hundreds of commercial businesses, individuals, and, as we shall see, for itself, too.

The Harbor Press was the creation of two young men, John Fass and Roland Wood (AC 1920), together with his wife Elizabeth Wood. The two men had formerly worked together at the printing and publishing house of William Edwin Rudge at Mount Vernon, New York. While at Rudge, they had worked alongside renowned book designer Bruce Rogers, and it is clear that Rogers’ modernist yet classical design sensibility had a significant influence on the consistently precise, elegant, and finely crafted ornamental style for which the Harbor Press became famous. Fass was mainly responsible for the design, and Roland Wood for the printing.

The Harbor Press was famous for its logo featuring a seahorse. The seahorse appeared in dozens of different versions on many Harbor Press productions. Often it appeared astride an anchor — a visual homage, perhaps, to the dolphin-and-anchor device of the Aldine Press, founded by the master printer of the Italian Renaissance, Aldus Manutius.

The Harbor Press designed and printed special editions of works by famous authors for large commercial publishers like Random House and Harper and Brothers, as well as for New York’s most influential bibliophiles: the members of the Grolier Club and the Typophiles.

The Harbor Press Ephemera Collection offers a wealth of typographic loveliness and lots of mid-20th-century whimsy:

The collection also includes dozens of original printing plates and samples of letterpress type.

Fass and Wood ceased their partnership and closed the Press at the beginning of World War II. Wood pursued a career in acting, while Fass continued working as a leading book designer for leading American publishers as well as a graphic designer specializing in typography for advertising.

The finding aid to the collection will be available soon. In the meantime, enjoy this visual sampling!

In the Institute’s archive there is an old album of postcards collected by Francis Haverfield (1860-1919). We were looking through it when we came across this poignant postcard from Salomon Reinach. Reinach confirms the news that the great archaeologist Joseph Déchelette had been killed in action.

Reinach writes: “Alas! it is true; Déchelette, aged 53 … insisted on going to the front and was struck dead by a shell. It is an immense … loss, but his manuscript was almost finished.”

This month marks the centenary of Déchelette’s death: he died on the 4th October 1914. He was one of the first scholars to identify the link between La Tène culture and the Celts.

This is the third and final installment of Pan Am’s audio walking tour of New York City.  The clip features areas of the Lower East Side, Greenwich Village, and Washington Square Park, and much like the two previously posted tours (Midtown and Central Park), the audio offers a lighthearted jaunt that belies the big changes these neighborhoods would face in the near future.   The guide describes the influx of artists into post-manufacturing districts like Soho, the rapidly changing ethnic enclaves of the Lower East Side, and the newly minted “East Village”, a neighborhood that was just beginning to develop its own identify. Listen to highlights of the three neighborhoods described below and see the interactive map for the full tour.  

The Lower East Side
This section describes the recent influx of Puerto Ricans into the traditionally Jewish areas of the LES as a rather pleasant and relaxed transition.  “Spanish and Yiddish now seem to be locked in a benevolent struggle for the right to be called the official language of the neighborhood. If there was ever a part of New York that deserved the name international melting pot, then the Lower East Side is it. This district, with its unpretentious, congested living quarters has given the city some of its most successful people in all walks of life.” 

SoHo and The Cast Iron District
Moving on from the LES, the guide takes you to the corner of West Houston and Broadway, an area that was still full of artists inhabiting the huge loft spaces and cast iron district buildings where the upscale shops of boutiques of SoHo now reside. The guide offers a rather strange suggestion that tourists should randomly knock on doors of buildings and that “the artists would welcome a visit from you, in the hope that their creations might attract your attention.”

Washington Square
Young People, Guitars, and Protest Signs —they are part of village life.  The guide describes the village as New York’s counter part of the Left Bank, despite the fact that “most of the serious artists have moved to an area now called the East Village.” 

This fall, the City of Vancouver Archives will present its fifth annual screening “Vancouver – A Progressive City!” at the Vancity Theatre. In recent years, our screenings have been very popular. So, for the first time this November, we will be showing multiple screenings.

In collaboration with local historian Michael Kluckner, we will be presenting new material that focuses on Vancouver from the 1930s-1960s. There will be selections from a wide range of newsreels, home movies, industrial and promotional films.

Flight attendant passing a film to a man at the airport. 1946. Reference code: AM1184-S1-: CVA 1184-2349. (Note: This photograph has been altered for promotional purposes.)

Michael Kluckner will also provide historical commentary with emphasis on Vancouver’s workforce, celebrations, and the city’s commerce, heritage and culture. Some of this year’s archival highlights will include the construction of the Lions Gate Bridge, early milk delivery service, the Grey Cup and Shriners parades, and television spots reporting on the community. The screening will also feature a special cameo appearance of Vancouver’s first city archivist, Major J.S. Matthews.

Portrait of Major J.S. Matthews. 1961. Reference code: AM54-S4-: Port N941.1.

The archival films were produced with and without soundtracks. For the silent portions, renowned jazz pianist Wayne Stewart will provide live musical accompaniment. We are delighted to be working with Wayne again. His musical touches have brought to life the mood and sentiment of these historical films.

The preservation and accessibility of these archival films would not be possible if it were not for our digital conservator, Sue Bigelow. Before the screening, she will speak about the challenges behind preserving and digitizing our moving image collection.

An archives volunteer uses a shrinkage gauge to measure how much the film has shrunk over time. Film that has shrunk significantly must be handled with extra care when being digitized.

In recent years, our annual screenings have sold out, and the theatre has had to turn away many hopeful theatre-goers. This year, we will hold two 2:30 matinee screenings of “Vancouver – A Progressive City!” on November 2^nd and November 30^th.

Man sitting on chair in front of the Orpheum Theatre ticket booth. 1934. Reference code: AM1535-: CVA 99-4674.

We have also received numerous requests to bring back screenings from previous years. So, back by popular demand, and in collaboration with Michael Kluckner and Wayne Stewart, we will be re-screening our 2012 show, “Vintage Vancouver” at 7:30 pm on November 2^nd.

Check out the videos below for a preview of “Vancouver – A Progressive City” and “Vintage Vancouver”. Hope to see you there!

A highlight of this year’s McLaren 2014 celebrations was the screening at the Edinburgh International Film Festival of Norman McLaren’s stunning 3-D films from the early 1950s, painstakingly digitally-restored by the National Film Board of Canada. The fascinating history of these ‘lost’ films was recently told on the Canadian Animation Blog, and the films will receive another screening at MoMa in New York in November.

McLaren’s interest in the creative possibilities of stereographic art is recorded in a set of papers which were recently donated to the University of Stirling Archives by Prof. Harold Layer of San Francisco State University. Prof. Layer corresponded with McLaren in the 1970s and 1980s about his 3-D film work, these letters forming part of the collection. It also includes copies of stereoscopic drawings and paintings created by McLaren in the 1940s which Prof. Layer has documented on a very useful online resource.

Stereoscopic portrait (left and right) by Norma McLaren, 1944.

The material also includes a set of reports and articles written by McLaren in the 1940s and 1950s, noting the new approaches offered by stereographic drawing and providing technical notes for the 3-D films he produced for the National Film Board of Canada. In 1946 McLaren wrote a proposal for the Guggenheim Museum in New York, seeking support for his research into the new field of sterographics which he defined as “the art of doing a separate drawing, painting, sculpture or mobile for each eye, which when viewed together, will synthesize a new additional dimension.”

Honeycomb, Stereoscopic painting (left and right) by Norman McLaren, c 1946.

McLaren argued that this method of drawing offered “Freedom from the physical laws of a three-dimensional world.” He went on to argue that:

“The laws of physics such as balance and gravity need not operate in this type of three-dimensional space created by stereoscopic synthesis. Apparently solid objects, heavy substances, complex structures and liquid matter may float in space, needing no support and existing by a sort of auto-suspension. The renaissance painter, with his growing awareness, gradually realized that he, on his flat surfaces, was released from such laws, and the first Umbrian angels who rose a few timid inches from the ground were soon to lead the imagination to a magnificent world of soaring form. Today’s stereographic drawings are like those Umbrian angels, for they point to a world where angels may ascend with a new magnificence into the very three-dimensional substance of space itself.” (Ref. GAA 31/F/7/2/2)

A later annotation to this document shows that many of McLaren’s plans remained unrealized. In the introduction of the paper he wrote that:

“It is my intention to go much further, and open up stereography as a creative medium. I am writing this paper on the basis of my past researches, my present conclusions, and my future plans.”

Beside the words “future plans” McLaren added an annotation in red pencil in 1980 which read “unfulfilled as yet.”

Beverly (MA) High School is a happening place!  Last week BHS graduate Angie Miller, an American Idol finalist visited.  And the day after, AOTUS spent the day—the first time since June of 1963!

As I said many times during the day, it was not the same Beverly High School that I left.  I was tremendously impressed with the seamless integration of technology throughout, the active participation of the students in the learning experience, and the excitement of the students hosting a visitor from Washington.

David Ferriero visits student classrooms at Beverly High School. Photo by The Salem News

I got to visit classrooms, chop onions and garlic in a culinary arts class, and speak to hundreds of students in an afternoon assembly.  I wanted to make my time with them as meaningful as possible so suggested that we do some crowdsourcing of questions in advance.  Lots of great questions arrived which sorted neatly into four categories:  the records, the job, the institution, and personal questions.

What type of documents do you archive?  Do you read all of them? What happens if you touch an historical document?  What is your role in government?  What are your daily duties?  What is your salary?  How do you keep it all organized?  Is there very tight security in the archives?  What do you wear to work?  Have you ever … [ Read all ]

On October 20, 1984, Paul A.M. Dirac passed away in his adopted home of Tallahassee, Florida.

Dirac moved to Tallahassee to teach at Florida State University in 1971 after visiting in June of that year to make sure he could handle the heat of Florida’s summers. He also appreciated the faculty of the growing physics department at FSU and that his colleagues treated the Nobel Prize winner like he was simply one of their own.

In a 2009 Florida State Times article, former colleagues remembered the at times eccentric physicist during his time here. He loved to walk, saying it gave him time to think and appreciated his daily “commute” to his office at FSU. He was also a man who spoke only when he had something to say. Steve Edwards, Professor Emeritus, Dean of the Faculties and Deputy Provost Emeritus., Ph.D., remembered, “for 12 years I had lunch with Paul Dirac. It was very enlightening, although on some days it was perfectly all right to sit there for an hour and not say anything to each other.”

Dirac is buried at Roselawn Cemetery in Tallahassee. Memorials to his memory in his childhood home in Bristol, England and in Saint-Maurice, Switzerland where his father’s family was from, can also be visited. In 1995, a commemorative stone for Dirac was added to Westminster Abbey in London, England. It is inscribed with the Dirac Equation.

On behalf of the members of the Public Interest Declassification Board, I would like to thank our colleague, Martin Faga, for his dedicated service as he concludes his third term as a member on the PIDB.  Marty has made substantial contributions while on the PIDB, including service as the Acting Chair.  He was appointed by President George W. Bush as an inaugural member of the PIDB and was present at its first meeting on Saturday, February 25, 2006.  Marty’s advocacy for modernizing the security classification system is long-standing, from his service as Director of the National Reconnaissance Office to his service as a member of the Commission on Protecting and Reducing Secrecy.  As a member of the PIDB, he helped craft many of our recommendations, including simplifying the classification system and adopting a risk-based standard on decisions to classify information or not.  He advocated for modernization as a necessity to improve government effectiveness and as essential to build trust with our citizens and aid democratic discourse.

Marty played a critical role in efforts to expand our outreach to stakeholders and involve the public and government as we crafted and revised our recommendations to the President.  He was instrumental in writing both of the PIDB’s Reports to the President, Improving Declassification in December 2007 and Transforming the Security Classification System in November 2012.  Marty possesses a unique understanding of how secrecy affects the functioning of our government and its ability to provide timely information to others in government as well as the public, especially concerning the operation of the intelligence community and its missions critical to our nation’s security interests.  He has been a vocal advocate for the need to modernize access policies and integrate technological solutions in order to reform the security classification system for the digital era.  We have valued and benefited from Marty’s expertise and vast experience and hope he will continue to contribute to the PIDB in his new emeriti status.  On behalf of the PIDB, I thank you, Marty, for your commitment, thoughtfulness, and friendship during your service to the PIDB.  We will greatly miss you and we wish you the best both personally and professionally.

Drama and theater have long played an important role in student life at Amherst College. Our Dramatic Activities Collection contains evidence of student and faculty performances all the way back to the early 19th century. Clyde Fitch (Class of 1886) was a major force in student theatricals, both on and off the stage, during his time at Amherst. He went on to become one of the most popular playwrights in the United States; a spectacular career that was cut short by his untimely death in 1909. On Thursday, October 23, 2014 we are holding an event in the Clyde Fitch Room in Converse Hall to celebrate the life and career of Clyde Fitch as part of LGBT History Month.

Clyde Fitch in “The Country Girl” at Amherst College, 1884.

Although we celebrate him as an icon of Queer history at Amherst, it would be inappropriate (and anachronistic) to project our modern notions of “homosexual” or “gay” onto Clyde Fitch. George Chauncy’s book Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Making of the Gay Male World, 1890-1940 is extremely useful, especially since Clyde Fitch spent much of his post-Amherst life in New York City. Kim Marra’s essay “Clyde Fitch’s Too Wilde Love” (in Staging Desire: Queer Readings of American Theater History) presents clear archival evidence of Fitch’s personal relationship with Oscar Wilde, and suggests they may have been lovers. Both Chauncy and Marra point out the difficulty of recovering Queer history when faced with active efforts to conceal and destroy evidence. It is likely that more letters between Fitch and Wilde were destroyed than have survived.

Cast of “The Rivals” at Amherst College, 1885. (Fitch seated, far right)

What we can say for certain is that Clyde Fitch was known for his great skill in playing female roles on stage as well as for costuming other performers and decorating stage sets. The Archives is filled with photographs of Amherst men in drag, so cross-dressing should not be immediately conflated with homosexuality, but, by all accounts, Fitch’s whole character was distinctly effeminate. Writing about him in the May 1928 Amherst Graduates’ Quarterly, Chilton Powell quotes Fitch as saying: “I knew of course that every boy regarded me as a sissy; but I would rather be misunderstood than lose my independence” (162).

Clyde Fitch. ca. 1886.

After leaving Amherst, Fitch moved to New York City where he struggled to build a literary career. During the summer months he traveled to Europe and London, where he met Oscar Wilde, likely during the summer of 1888. While abroad, Fitch fully embraced the aestheticism of Wilde and his circle. Upon his return home, Fitch wrote his first successful play about the man who defined dandyism for the nineteenth century: Beau Brummell.

“Beau Brummell” Program. Chicago, 1890.

“Beau Brummell” premiered at Madison Square Garden in New York City on 17 May 1890 and was an instant success. It subsequently toured the major cities of America and launched Fitch’s career as a dramatist.

Early review of “Beau Brummell” (1890)

Fitch wrote thirty-three original plays, twenty-three adaptations, along with a novel and a book of stories for children. At one point, five of his plays were running on Broadway simultaneously. Fitch’s friend Oscar Wilde also had a great success in 1890 with the publication of The Picture of Dorian Gray in Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine. Fitch’s own novel was published in Lippincott’s the following year.

Clyde Fitch. A Wave of Life. 1891.

Although his works are nearly forgotten today, Clyde Fitch was both a major influence on the shape of American theater and a noted celebrity until his death in 1909. This caricature of Fitch by artist Ernest Haskell gives us a glimpse into how Fitch was viewed by his contemporaries:

Clyde Fitch by Ernest Haskell.

Amherst College is fortunate to have extensive holdings that document the life and works of Clyde Fitch. The Archives holds The W. Clyde Fitch Collection along with the books from his personal library. Our Clyde Pride event will be held in the Fitch Room in Converse Hall — a reproduction of the study from Fitch’s home at 113 East 40th Street in New York. The room and the collections were the gift of Clyde Fitch’s mother in 1913.

The Fitch Room, as it was in 1950.

• More information about Oscar Wilde and his circle is available through The British Library.
• Letters that Clyde Fitch sent to Oscar Wilde are part of the Oscar Wilde Collection at the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library at UCLA.

The University of Stirling Archives has received a new collection of material which provides a new resource for those interested in the history of the Scottish newspaper industry. The Scottish Newspaper Society is a trade organisation representing local, regional and national Scottish newspapers. Its role is to represent, protect and promote the industry. The collection includes the archives of the Society and a number of organisations it replaced / merged with over the years including the Scottish Daily Newspaper Society, the Scottish Newspapers Proprietors Association and the Scottish Newspapers Publishers Association.

Letterhead of the Scottish Daily Newspaper Society, 1940s.

The collection includes memorabilia dating back to 1915 but the earliest papers present come from the mid 1940s and detail the effect of the Second World War on the industry. The minutes of a meeting of the Scottish Newspaper Proprietors Association from 12^th June 1943 begin with a statement from the Executive Committee noting that:

“For another year the meetings of the Association have been interrupted by the World War and it has been impossible to arrange for more than a one-day Conference. The improvement, however, in the Military situation raises the hope that the day when our meetings can be resumed in a fuller degree, may not be too far away.”

The war time minutes record the challenges faced by newspapers during the conflict which included loss of manpower, price and supply of newsprint, and censorship and reporting of events.

The next meeting of the Scottish Newspaper Proprietors Association, held in Edinburgh on 9^th October 1943, was attended by Admiral Thomson, the Chief Censor. He reminded those present that newspapers should refrain from publishing anything that may be of value to the enemy and gave some examples of material to be avoided including:

1. Those items which identified a unit or formation by number or which identified the location of a unit
2. Matters relating to aircraft crashed in this country
3. Reports of where and when an airman was missing

The extensive minutes and reports of these organisations provide information on a range of issues which concerned the newspaper industry including industrial relations, press regulation, delivery and distribution of local newspapers, advertising and circulation. The changing face of Scottish newspapers can be traced in a collection which stretches from war-time emergency to the challenges of a 21^st century digital market.

Campaign against proposed rise in VAT on local and regional newspapers, 1987.