Pictured above is a piece of New York City history: the engineering log of WNYC’s first official broadcast 93 years ago. It began just before 9 p.m. on July 8, 1924 and lasted a mere three hours and 26 minutes. But in that time, bands played, singers sang, and various municipal figures extolled a new day in communications. Mayor John F. Hylan was one of those caught up in the moment. He leaned into a microphone and pronounced that radio now would bring news to the people of the city “in an interesting, delightful, and attractive form.”

Below are annotations for the entries in the engineer’s logbook shown above. Gaps were filled with newspaper and magazine accounts of the event. We’ve also provided context on some of the personalities cited.

WNYC’s reception room on July 8, 1924.
(Photo by Eugene de Salignac and courtesy of the NYC Municipal Archives)

Some 2,000 invitations for the station opening had been sent out and reportedly more than 500 well wishers arrived to tour the new facilities on the 25th floor of the Municipal Building in the two hours prior to the broadcast. At this ‘open house’ the station’s first guests were welcomed to ‘a Spanish garden’ of ‘Moorish design’ with caged songbirds and colored lights adding an exotic ambience to the experience. You can read some of the newspaper accounts at this earlier archive blog piece: Romance of Radio.

Meanwhile, just one flight above, rooftop guests, with their drinks and hors d’oeuvres in hand, were chatting in the warm night air and looking west across the Hudson River at the Jersey lights and waiting anxiously for the public address speakers mounted around them to begin carrying the evening’s event.

8:54 P.M. On the air — no modulation. H. E. Hiller. 

Harry E. Hiller in 1930.

Harry E. Hiller was at the controls when WNYC officially signed on the air. He was among WNYC’s original staff of 17 and hired for $2,700 a year. Hiller had come to WNYC from WBZ, which at the time was located in Springfield MA. Like WNYC’s Chief Announcer Tommy Cowan, Hiller was a radio pioneer, also having worked at WJZ in Newark, the New York metropolitan area’s first radio station.

 
8:58 Star Spangled Banner with Police Band and soprano – ACN. 

‘Tommy’ Cowan as seen in 1938.
/WNYC Archive Collections)

Marian Fein is the soprano who sings the national anthem. ACN is the announcer Thomas H. Cowan. He is known to listeners only as “ACN” which stood for “Announcer-Cowan-New York” since, at that time, announcers and engineers did not reveal their real names on the air. WNYC’s founder Grover A. Whalen hired ‘Tommy’ just a week earlier to be WNYC’s Supervisor of Broadcasting at the princely sum of $3,000 a year and wrote, “the opportunity which is before you…is so great, so broad, and so limitless…” Cowan’s was the first voice heard when we went on the air July 8, 1924. Tommy was also the first announcer on the air in the New York metropolitan area when WJZ Newark started broadcasting in 1921. He announced the first World Series broadcast based on descriptions phoned into him from the game, as well as covering the June, 1924 Democratic National Convention from Madison Square Garden for WJZ. 

9:02-9:09 Invocation, Blessing and Prayer

Catholic – Monsignor Charles A. Cassidy of Staten Island represented New York Archbishop, Patrick Joseph Cardinal Hayes.

Protestant – Reverend Dr. Charles H. Nauman represented Bishop William T. Manning.

Jewish – Rabbi Bernard Drachman (1861-1945) was the leader of Orthodox Judaism in the United States at the beginning of the twentieth century. 

9:16 Selection Police Band

The Police Band playing over WNYC from the roof of the Municipal Building in 1930.
(Eugene De Salignac/NYC Municipal Archives)

The Police Department Band was a staple of public events. At the time, the police, fire and the sanitation departments all had bands performing for the on-going assortment of ribbon-cutting and corner stone-laying ceremonies that frequently populated the municipal day book. However, this evening’s studio performance was no plum assignment. The new studios had just been painted a day earlier. Unfortunately, the paint sealed the special acoustic wallpaper so that sound bounced off of it rather than being absorbed. It was a fact that only became apparent as the broadcast was about to begin. At the last moment heavy drapes were hung on the walls and ceiling to dampen the sound but this also resulted in making the studio airtight. Needless to say, the performers were not pleased on that humid July evening.

The cover of the November 1924 Radio Stories magazine with the article by Hazel Ross, “The Birth of a New Station.”
(WNYC Archive Collections)

Writing in the pulp magazine Radio Stories, Hazel Ross described the scene: “With fifty or more, their instruments and music racks, jammed into that one small, heavily insulated room, the atmosphere took on the nature of a Turkish bath. Dripping drummers fled to the outer air in the very midst of martial selections…sweating saxophonists, casting fame and discretion to the winds, struggled out of the torture chamber, tearing open their shirts and gasping for air. Director Christie Bohnsack gave them time to mop their swimming brows, dosed them with ice-cold orange juice and then herded them back into their proper places with a masterly tactfulness…”

9:19 one moment please 

Rodman Wanamaker
(Bain News Service/Library of Congress)

Although not noted in the log, newspaper accounts reported that at this point Rodman Wanamaker followed the police band and introduced Mayor Hylan. The department store magnate had headed up the original Board of Estimate committee appointed to study Whalen’s proposal of a city-owned and operated radio station. In April 1922 Mayor Hylan announced the committee at the opening of Wanamaker’s New York radio station WWZ.

Grover Whalen scrapbook clip of The Brooklyn Standard Union courtesy of NYC Municipal Archives.

Wanamaker’s introduction was interrupted by a furious summer thunderstorm that sent those listening on the rooftop racing for cover. The Brooklyn Standard Union’s front page the next day reported, “It supplied the real thrill of the evening. The crowd jammed the doorways, getting thoroughly drenched. One woman fainted, but was revived when taken downstairs to the offices of the Parole Commission, which immediately became the scene of animated but confused activity. An obliging youth named Mulligan, a city employee, put in an appearance with a handful of towels which the youngsters and the fairest of the visitors seized forthwith. Several young women discovered that their wet dresses were shrinking. Numerous hats were shrinking. Park Commissioner Edward T. O’Loughlin of Brooklyn flitted back and forth through the corridors drenched to the skin and anxiously looking for ‘Ma’ O’Loughlin, from whom he had been separated in the crush. Borough President Connolly of Queens, who had remained inside all of the time, nearly started a ‘riot’ by asking an acquaintance if ‘it had been raining outside.’ “

9:22 Mayor Hylan speaks

New York City Mayor John F. Hylan.
New York Police Department, Annual Report (1918), p.1. Held at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, Lloyd Sealy Library Special Collections.

“Municipal information, formerly available only after perusal of reports, is now to be brought into one’s home in an interesting, delightful and attractive form.  Facts, civic, social, commercial and industrial, will be marshaled and presented by those with their subjects well in hand. Talks on timely topics will also be broadcasted. Programs sufficiently diversified to meet all tastes with musical concerts, both vocal and instrumental, featured at all times, should make ‘tuning in’ on the Municipal Radio pleasant as well as profitable.

“Through the employment of this modern and very effective means of transmitting information, an aroused public interest in the municipal government may logically be expected to ensue upon a broader understanding, a clearer knowledge and a deeper appreciation of its functioning. And it follows, as night the day, that the more enlightened the citizenship, the better it becomes.” To read Mayor Hylan’s complete address go to: Hylan’s WNYC Speech. And, for more on the Hylan-WNYC backstory see: Mr. Hylan in the Air.

9:42 1/2 Ax Re: Vincent Lopez now in studio.

Dance band leader Vincent Lopez in the 1920s.
(Harold Stein/WNYC Archive Collections)

Tommy Cowan tells the listening audience that dance band leader Vincent Lopez (1895-1975) has just come into the studio. Vincent Lopez was a popular radio dance band leader. He began broadcasting a 90-minute program over WJZ Newark in November 1921. Lopez became one of the country’s most popular bandleaders through the 1940s, and his flamboyant style was said to have made an impression on Liberace. In 1941 Lopez and his orchestra launched a twenty year stint as the house band at Manhattan’s Taft Hotel.    

9:43  “Novelette” Mr. H. Neumann pianist. 

Herman Neuman at WNYC’s piano in 1927.
(WNYC Archive Collections)

Herman Neumann was hired as WNYC’s first music supervisor or music director and an assistant announcer at $2,700 per year. During WNYC’s earliest days, Neuman also acted as staff pianist. In 1929 he started The Masterwork Hour, radio’s first regular and later, longest running, program of recorded classical music. In a 1964 interview he recalled he would give as many as five piano recitals a day, announcing the selections himself from a standard volume called Masterpieces of Piano Music. Neuman said that many of the vocalists he accompanied were “song pluggers” who were dispatched to the station by music publishers to sing their latest songs on the air and encourage the sale of sheet music.

9:45 Mr. Lopez speaks

The orchestra of pianist Vincent Lopez in the early 1920s
(WNYC Archive Collections)

9:47- 10:27 Lopez and Orchestra Perform:

June Night, Limehouse Blues, Aida (modernized), Nola, Hottest Man in Town, Echoes of New York,  Rubetown Frolic, What’ll I Do, Kitten on the Keys, piano solo, In a Ronderouz, I Can’t Get You, and a medley of George Cohan hits.

10:27 end of dance selections  Thanks for calls and etc. Anx

Tommy Cowan back-announces the last musical selection and thanks all of the station’s well wishers for their calls.

Carbon microphone from 1920s
(WNYC Archive Collections)

10:29 Microphone crackles. Loose battery connection.

This was WNYC’s first official on-air technical difficulty. It was not, however, the only electronic snafu of the evening. The New York Times reported the following day that Mayor Hylan’s wife, “on an upper level, missed the Mayor’s speech when the amplifier failed to yield to his voice. It was found that the horn was rigged to a microphone whose adjustment had been overlooked so that it had not been ‘tuned in.’ “

10:30 Grover Whalen speaks.  (Relay trips)

Grover A. Whalen.
(WNYC Archive Collections)

Grover A. Whalen was the outgoing Commissioner of Bridges, Plant and Structures, the parent agency of WNYC. It was Whalen’s strong belief that New York City should have its own radio station. He fought long and hard from 1922-1924 to make this idea a reality. He convinced the Board of Estimate to appropriate the necessary $50,000 to get the station on the air and battled against the emerging communications giants (AT&T, Westinghouse, General Electric and RCA), those he called “the radio trust,” to get a transmitter on his own terms. According to L. E. Brown in The Sun, Whalen “gave a brief outline of the difficulties encountered in securing the apparatus and installing it.”

10:35 President Connolly, Boro of Queens, speaks.

Queens Borough President Maurice E. Connolly in 1918.
(Press Illustrating Service, Inc./WNYC Archive Collections)

Maurice E. Connolly was significant because he had a sympathetic ear for technical innovations and sat on the city’s Board of Estimate and Apportionment, the governing body that appropriated money for capital projects. He was the first person Commissioner Grover Whalen approached in 1922 about the idea of a city radio station. As the Commissioner of the Department of Bridges, Plant and Structures, Whalen suggested to Connolly that he submit his (Whalen’s) proposal for a city radio station to the board. On March 17, 1922, Connolly recommended to the board that a committee study the proposal.

10:48 JA Lynch Boro President of Richmond speaks. 

John A. Lynch is the Borough President of Staten Island and member of the Board of Estimate.

10:54 GAWhalen speaks. -ACN-  HEHiller 

Commissioner Grover Whalen returned to the microphone. It appears he was joined by announcer Tommy Cowan (ACN)..

10:59 short intermission

11:02 Ernest Jones Billy Hare & Vaughn DeLeath in a humourous dialogue.

Billy Jones and Ernest Hare on the air in 1923.
(NYWTS Collection/Library of Congress)

Vaughn DeLeath in the 1920s.
(Wikimedia Commons)

Jones and Hare were among of the most popular radio entertainers and recording artists of the time. Performing as The Happiness Boys, they were perhaps known best for their release on Victor Records Twisting the Dials, a comic vaudeville routine about that new media known as radio. Vaughn DeLeath was a a popular jazz singer and crooner in the 1920s earning the nicknames The Original Radio Girl and The First Lady of Radio. She was best known for her rendition of Are You Lonesome Tonight. However, it is curious that in reviewing the numerous newspaper and magazine articles about this event, not one mentions these leading radio performers or their routine. 

11:12 Estelle Carey. Soprano

Estelle Carey in 1921.
(WNYC Archive Collections)

Estelle Carey (1890-1963) was a Canadian-born soprano who pursued a career in the United States in the 1920s performing in Detroit, Chicago and New York. The Canadian Encyclopedia writes that during a year long engagement at New York’s Strand Theater in 1923, her charming coloratura voice earned her the title, ‘The Little Brown Thrush of Broadway.’

11:13-11:23

Carey performed, The Winds in the South, Daddy, and Our Little Songs.

11:24 Six Brown Brothers – Saxophones. 

The Six Brown Brown Brothers pictured on the sheet music cover of That Moaning Saxophone Rag in 1913.
(WNYC Archive Collections)

The Six Brown Brothers were a celebrity saxophone sextet. They were instrumental in popularizing the saxophone in the 1920s and often performed in clown costumes in both white and black face. They were William, Tom, Alec, Percy, Fred and Vern Brown. They began working in circuses and then minstrel and vaudeville shows. Bandleader Tom Brown claimed to have transformed the ‘siren of Satan’ to the apex of ‘the cool.’ The group’s records were the first discs of a saxophone ensemble in wide circulation.

11:26-11:37 The saxophone group performed Daughters of the American Revolution March, “Medley” and At Dawning. 

11:38-11:50 Senor Alonzo, violinist

Senor Alonzo or Señor Alonzo remains a mystery although he performed Ave Maria with piano (probably Herman Neuman) and Spanish Dance.

11:52 Six Brown Brother Descriptive Selection

Clip from the “Journal” July 10, 1924.
(NYC Municipal Archives/Grover Whalen scrapbook)

11:59 Thanks for good wishes from WOR and others

The New York Telegram and Evening Mail reported the next day that hundreds of congratulatory messages had been received by telephone and telegram from persons who had listened in for the first time. Charles B. Poponoe, the director of station WJZ, also sent a huge bouquet of roses with a note that the Radio Corporation of America (RCA) and New York’s pioneer station wished the first municipal station “all the luck in the world.”

 July 9, 1924 A.M. 

Ad for Huston Ray performing at the Majestic Theater in Elmira, New York in March 1925.
(Elmira Star Gazette)

12:01 “Elegie” transcription Huston Ray pianist

Huston Ray was the stage name for Ray Daghistan of Elmira, New York. The Post Star of Glen Falls, New York had this to say of Ray in August 1924: “Of all the people in the world who play the piano there is not over two score brilliant pianists and Huston Ray has the honor and distinction of being one of the small number. He is an accomplished musician, one whose technique and expression are faultless and with all the intimate personality that immediately puts him on good terms with his audience.”  Ray was described as a graduate of the Winn School of Popular Music in Elmira, New York, where he also taught popular music and ragtime.

12:05-12:11 Ray performs Hungarian Rhapsody #6″ and What’ll I Do.

12:12 95th Ballot returns. Dem Conv.  

Special Guest ticket to the 1924 DNC.at

WNYC went on the air in the final hours of the 1924 Democratic National Convention, held uptown at Madison Square Garden from June 24 to July 9. Grover Whalen’s original schedule had the station’s opening ceremonies on Friday, June 20 with regular broadcasts beginning the following Tuesday by covering the convention’s opening.  However, Whalen did not announce the station’s completion and readiness for air until June 18 in a letter to Secretary of Commerce Herbert Hoover requesting a wavelength of 525 meters. Hoover responded by telegram late on June 21, issuing an experimental license with the call letters 2XBH. Still, Whalen needed a permanent Class B license and it appears political opposition was coming from WAOW in Omaha, which also operated at 525 meters. Meanwhile, The Sun wrote, “The Commissioner is ready to install direct wires from the studio in the Municipal Building to the Convention Hall at Madison Square Garden as soon as the permanent license is received.” WNYC got the Class B license, but not in time to cover the convention.

Newspaper headline about WNYC interference with DNC coverage.
(Grover Whalen scrapbook/NYC Municipal Archives)

Additionally, WNYC caused some upset among some convention listeners with its test broadcasts on July 5 and 7, as well as the official opening on the 8th. Newspapers reported that those with homemade receivers or less elaborate commercial sets were at a disadvantage in distinguishing between WNYC’s 525 meter wave length and WEAF’s 492 meter signal, leaving the listener with a jumble of the two. Hazel Ross wrote, “Just when the balloting was hottest, WNYC, gleefully taking her maiden dip in the ether, came in so strong that it was impossible to tune her out!” 

FDR delivers the nominating speech for Alfred E. Smith at the 1924 DNC.
(FDR Library)

It took a record 103 ballots to nominate a Democratic presidential candidate in 1924. It was the longest continuously running convention in United States political history. John W. Davis, initially an outsider, eventually won the presidential nomination as a compromise candidate following a virtual war of attrition between front-runners William Gibbs McAdoo and Al Smith.

12:15 Auld Lang Song  Chorus.  

12:16 1/2 “Old Kentucky Home” “Home Sweet Home”  Huston Ray pianist

12:17 1/2 Grover Whalen speaks  

NYC Commissioner and WNYC head William Wirt Mills in 1924
(NYC Municipal Archives)

Grover Whalen provided concluding remarks for the evening’s festivities. He had resigned as the Commissioner of Plant and Structures several days earlier to work for Rodman Wanamaker. There were rumors something had come between him and Mayor Hylan. The commissioner, however, publicly insisted that the $10,000 a year he made just wasn’t enough to support his family. Mayor Hylan made him Honorary Radio Chief. The man now in charge of WNYC was Whalen’s deputy, William Wirt Mills.

12:20 Sign off

Newspaper accounts also mention two singers performing that evening not noted in the logbook: Soprano Muriel Tindal and a contralto named Rene Warwick. The British-born Tindal was at the Metropolitan Opera from 1921 to 1923. Despite research, information about Rene Warwick has not yet been located.

WNYC’s illuminated call letters, each nearly eight feet high, on the western face of the Municipal Building, July 8, 1924. The letters were flanked by glowing red cupolas.
(Eugene de Salignac/NYC Municipal Archives)

Special thanks to Alexandra Hilton, Archivist at the New York City Municipal Archives for her assistance.

“CITY’S RADIO PLANT OPENED BY MAYOR,” the New York Times headline read on July 10, 1924. “HYLAN PARTY IS DRENCHED.” The inauguration of “Station WNYC” by New York Mayor John F. Hylan had indeed taken place during a summer electrical storm, whose approach had been concealed by the dazzling new lights of the Municipal Building tower, where the gala opening was held. Even the Fireman’s Band, the newspaper noted with barely-suppressed amusement, had their pomp and circumstance extinguished by the sudden cloudburst: “the sheets of rain partially filled the large bass horns, which the musical but hurried firefighters accidentally inverted like brimming goblets upon many heads.”

WNYC’s illuminated call letters on the western face of the Municipal Building, July 8, 1924.
(Photo by Eugene de Salignac and courtesy of the NYC Municipal Archives)

This unintended immersion baptism did not douse the Mayor’s enthusiasm for the city’s new medium, however. In his opening broadcast, Mayor Hylan boasted that New York was now the first American city to offer a municipal radio station,* with “uninterrupted…recreational entertainment for all the people.” In fact, 1924 would be a year of many New York firsts: the first time the Yankees won the World Series (and their first season at the new Yankee Stadium); the first Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade; the first automatically controlled traffic lights (which only blazed red or green); the first time the black actor Paul Robeson performed at the Greenwich Village Theatre (in the controversial O’Neill play “All God’s Chillun Got Wings”). As the city was innovating and evolving, however, the nation was constricting. Hylan’s citizenry were fully aware of the local implications of Prohibition, or of the brand-new Johnson-Reed Act —a piece of legislation that used a national-origins quota to limit immigration to the United States and excluded all Asian immigrants, without exception.

Given this context, Mayor Hylan might have been expected to hit lofty themes in his inaugural radio address, perhaps contrasting his cosmopolitan constituency with the retrograde policies and fearfulness of the greater United States. Instead, brand-new WNYC listeners were treated to a monotonous lecture on the “operations of municipal machinery,” and the ways in which radio can furnish “facts —civic, social, commercial and industrial” for “public enlightenment” and general uplift. “We are prepared to tell you over your own radio,” Hylan went on, “just exactly what is being done to make your city a better place to work in and to live in …this will provide a fact basis upon which the people may found constructive criticism. That is what is needed and always welcome.”

These platitudes were a rehash of the remarks Mayor Hylan had delivered at his own inauguration six years earlier, when he was elected as the Tammany Hall candidate and was generally believed to be in thrall to William Randolph Hearst, the powerful publisher and isolationist politician. In an effort to separate himself from his backers, the brand-new Mayor denounced “favoritism” and spurned political “catering to any newspaper.” “Words do not mean anything unless there are facts behind them,” he insisted. “Just criticism will help us, false criticism will not greatly injure us, and the [involvement] of the people has nullified the value of puffing and systematic laudation, even to those who have a craving for it.” Hylan returned to this concept in his WNYC address as well, urging listeners to “send along your suggestions” for how to improve the city. “An enlightened citizen interest, militantly expressed, is now in keeping with the trend of the times.”

As it turns out, the “militant” expression of an enlightened citizenry was not at all what Hylan wanted WNYC to encourage —nor was the Mayor looking for “constructive criticism” from any quarter. For the next year, he used the municipal airwaves not to share municipal information, but as his personal bully pulpit, railing in speech after speech against the State Transit Commission, which managed the privately-operated subway systems in New York City and threatened Hylan’s hopes for a city-run system. Additionally, he censored the broadcast of rebuttals to these radio attacks from the Commission and the heads of the B.M.T and I.R.T., and circulated an anti-Transit Commission broadside entitled “Who’s To Blame?” at taxpayer expense. Nor was the Commissioner of Plant and Structures, whose job it was to oversee WNYC, exempt from participation in his crusade: Hylan enlisted him to read from his hagiographic memoir, Seven Years of Progress, on the air for fifteen minutes each night. By November of that year a New York Times editorial, “Mr. Hylan in the Air,” seemed to point out a new storm brewing around the Mayor with potentially far more destructive power than the one he faced on WNYC’s opening night.  His peremptory lockdown of the airwaves, the editorial said, could not conceal a “serious defection going on behind Mr. Hylan’s battle line.” Indeed, by 1925 the fight was in the courts: Citizens Union brought an action against Hylan and his Commissioner, enjoining them from using taxpayer funds for propaganda purposes. It was the first in a series of legal challenges that would end in an injunction, and it also ended Hylan’s hopes for reelection. He was soundly defeated in the Democratic primary that year by a glamorous, Tammany-supported State Senator named Jimmy Walker.

In a rumination on the downfall of Mayor Hylan, one editorial suggested the public might look to the “sinister political figure” who stood behind him –William Randolph Hearst. “Of his devising,” the editors wrote, “is the scheme, if there is one, to use Mayor Hylan in order to disrupt and defeat the Democratic Party in this city.” It is, of course, not hard to draw historical parallels between Hylan’s erratic tenure and the current political situation in the United States: the exploitation of a new and under-regulated media platform, the insistence on loyalty and the silencing of critics —even the presence of a “sinister” influence in the shadows. But it is more interesting to contemplate the persistence of that new media platform, ninety-three years later, long after Mayor Hylan and his broadcast battles have been forgotten. WNYC endured thanks to the New Yorkers who sued for the station’s independence from partisanship and power struggles in its early days. May it continue to operate on a “fact basis” throughout many more mayoralties to come.

________________________

*Editor’s Note: Actually, WRR in Dallas, Texas was the first municipal radio station in the United States. We can only guess that Mayor Hylan hadn’t really looked into it.   

The National Association of Manufacturers provides an unlikely forum for this 1970 debate between Ramsey Clark and William F. Buckley. CBS News commentator Eric Sevareid presides. The topic is “Dissent Within a Lawful Society.” Sevareid starts off with his own take on the subject. First warning that he is merely “a horseback philosopher” and quoting Walter Lippmann’s self-deprecating view of journalistic analysis being “notes made by puzzled men,” Sevareid then stakes out a centrist position, trying balance the desire of “the passionate young” for change with the older population’s respect for order. He has more sympathy for the Civil Rights movement, calling the treatment of African-Americans a “true stain on the American soul,” than for student-inspired campus takeovers, though he admits that the war in Vietnam does seem to call for some form of protest. What he sees as the solution is neither a radical reordering of the power structure nor a crackdown on those who call for such change but rather “a new art of government” to address these issues. 

Ramsey Clark calls dissent “the principal catalyst in the alchemy of Truth.” For him, protests, marches, sit-ins, etc., are “pleas for vision and understanding.” They are resorted to by people who have no voice in our society and so must employ these unorthodox methods. Although he deplores violence he understands where the deep rage and desperation of rioting comes from. Tellingly, he urges the (obviously all-white) audience to try and understand what it is like to be black. He also, shockingly for a former Attorney General in 1970, points out that the police “are capable of illegal violence too.” He concludes by calling for more communication between the government and its people as a way to reduce pressure and solve the pressing problems we face.

William F. Buckley turns Clark’s formulation on its head. Rather than seeing dissent as a catalyst in some alchemical search, Buckley feels he knows certain Truths and wants to act on them. By knowing Truth one knows Error, which must be combatted and its adherents punished. There is no such thing, he argues, as the “peaceful revolution” championed by those who perform radical acts of dissent. Revolution is by nature violent. The opposite of revolution, he claims, is evolution. In practical terms, his seemingly mild-mannered prescriptions become more chilling. Foreign policy is largely the prerogative of the executive branch and must be supported. It can only be changed by elections. The waves of anger and protest sweeping the nation are being encouraged by “opinion-makers.” He then singles out civil rights attorney William Kunstler, recommending his disbarment for encouraging illegal acts of protest and laments the failure of Congress to impeach Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas. The tyranny we should fear is from the Left. Our response should be “a sign of firmness.”

A question-and-answer period follows during which both speakers elaborate their views. Clark calls for a diffusion of power back to the community level. Buckley emphasizes the need for order and compares student protestors to members of the Hitler Youth Movement. Aside from the debate itself, which sounds remarkably and depressingly topical almost fifty years on, it’s interesting to hear the persona adopted by each speaker. Clark presents himself as a mere country lawyer full of concern for the common man. Buckley revels in his command of ornate English constructions and lengthily quotes from memory such conservative luminaries as Edmund Burke, Samuel Johnson, and Hilaire Belloc. One is struck by how none of the three speakers condescend to their audience. While the issues of 1970 remain relevant, the level of discourse over the ensuing decades has sunk, while the willingness to listen to the other side seems to have disappeared entirely.

Eric Sevareid (1912-1992) was a swashbuckling journalist and radio reporter who covered the fall of France and many other crucial episodes of World War II. One of “Murrow’s Boys,” he became a familiar face of CBS News during that network’s rise to prominence, eventually settling into the role of commentator on national and international events. Albert Auster, writing for the Museum of Broadcast Communications website, recalls:

From l964 until his retirement Sevareid appeared on theCBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite. During that period his Emmy and Peabody award-winning two-minute commentaries, with their penchant to elucidate rather than advocate, inspired those who admired him to refer to him as “The Grey Eminence.” On the other hand those who were irked by his tendency to overemphasize the complexity of every issue nicknamed him, “Eric Severalsides.” Sevareid himself said that as he had grown older his tendency was toward conservatism in foreign affairs and liberalism in domestic politics. Despite this, after a trip to South Vietnam in l966 he commented that prolonging the war was unwise and a negotiated settlement was advisable.

One of Sevareid’s most memorable comments was on Richard Nixon’s resignation. “Few things in his presidency,” he pointed out, “became him so much as his manner of leaving…”

Ramsey Clark (b. 1927) was the son of a former Attorney General and Supreme Court Justice. During his own tenure as Attorney General under Lyndon Johnson, he pushed to enforce civil rights legislation but also prosecuted anti-war protestors. His subsequent political evolution has been one of the most striking in American politics. As the Encyclopedia Britannica reports:

Upon leaving office as Nixon became president, Clark embraced his activist tendencies with a passion. For Clark, crime emerged from the dehumanizing effects of poverty, racism, ignorance, and violence. He argued that America needed to address those problems through education and rehabilitation rather than resorting to prisons, which he saw as criminal hothouses that only exacerbated the problem.

In addition to championing a more holistic approach to criminal justice, Clark sought to address specific issues. In 1973 he and the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People’s Roy Wilkins launched an excoriating attack on the Chicago Police Department and the state’s attorney for their roles in the 1969 shooting deaths of Black Panthers Mark Clark and Fred Hampton. Clark claimed that violence occurs when such little value is placed on others that perpetrators see no wrong in seeking to control or destroy them. That charge would be the leitmotif of his subsequent political activism as his emphasis shifted from U.S. government actions at home to actions abroad.

Indeed, Clark has since become known for his fierce opposition to American overseas involvement in the Middle East, even going so far as to represent Saddam Hussein.

William F. Buckley (1925-2008) was the most visible conservative theorist of his day. His long-running television program Firing Line provided viewers with a contrasting view to the perceived “liberal bias” of the mainstream media. But it was the founding of The National Review in 1955 that will most likely be seen as his lasting contribution to the cause of conservative reform. Buckley legitimized what was then largely regarded as a movement whose advocates were politically untouchable. In its obituary, the New York Times reports:

The National Review helped define the conservative movement by isolating cranks from Mr. Buckley’s chosen mainstream. “Bill was responsible for rejecting the John Birch Society and the other kooks who passed off anti-Semitism or some such as conservatism,” Hugh Kenner, a biographer of Ezra Pound and a frequent contributor to National Review, told The Washington Post. “Without Bill — if he had decided to become an academic or a businessman or something else — without him, there probably would be no respectable conservative movement in this country.”

This nostalgic view of Buckley must be balanced against his longstanding approval of racial segregation and his infamous suggestion, at the height of the AIDS epidemic, that gay men should be tattooed on their buttocks. As this debate makes clear, beneath his famously feline delivery lurked some very sharp claws.

Audio courtesy of the NYC Municipal Archives WNYC Collection.

WNYC archives id: 151493Municipal archives id: T7712, T7713, T7714, T7715 and T7716

Moments of political turmoil are an opportunity for organizations to define what they really believe, and in January the American Library Association did just that with a statement titled, “ALA opposes new administration policies that contradict core values.”

We liked the statement so much we thought it deserved a chance to move off the screen and onto the page, so we teamed up with local letterpress printers DWRI Letterpress to create a broadside version of an excerpt of the statement. The text was set on one of the DWRI Linotype machines and printed by hand.

We’re going to post copies here at PPL, but we printed more than we’ll need, and we’re happy to share. If you’re interested in having a copy for your library, just contact us. We might even throw in a copy of our awesome new comic.

The finished broadside and the forme used to print it.

Good Medicine
This LSTA-funded project involved digitizing 47,000 items (over 62,000 items were ultimately completed) related to the history of medical practice in Greensboro. The $60,000-plus grant was completed in collaboration with the Greensboro History Museum, Cone Health Medical Library, and the Greensboro Public Library, with UNCG as the lead.

• Project is complete and we exceeded the number of items promised by nearly 15,000.
• 62,000-plus items online, making it our largest completely in-house project ever.
• New pathfinders completed to link to specific topic-based items in lieu of more traditional contextual essays: http://libcdm1.uncg.edu/cdm/goodmedpathways/

Cone Hospital Records
This project resulted in the digitization of nearly 20,000 items from the Cone Hospital Collection held by the Cone Health Medical Library. Cone Health provided corporate funding for the project.

• Complete with the exception of a couple of low-priority scrapbooks we’re finishing up. All funding has been received, though we were actually under budget on payroll.
• This project led to the larger Good Medicine project (above).

I Wish to Say
This project, part of the University Libraries Digital Partners Grant program, digitized and transcribed  items from UNCG faculty member Sheryl Oring’s “I Wish to Say” art project, specifically 3200 postcards composed by participants and mailed to national and world leaders. Oring’s project has received significant national attention and has been published in a book. We coordinated the digitization and ingest into CONTENTdm and the devlopment team built an API-based interface.

• Complete. Working on a second phase.
• Over 3200 items online.

Slave Ads Grant
A UNCG strategic seed grant ($20,000) was to support a pilot project for the next phase of the NC Runaway Slave Ads project (one of our most-used digitized collections) which will identify, digitize, and transcribe ads that appeared in North Carolina newspapers from 1840-1865. The grant supports hiring of student workers to benchmark the project and also to coordinate a classroom integration aspect, with HIS and LIS students working on class projects related to the project.

• Applied for and received UNCG strategic seed grant. Project in progress.
• Worked with 3 classes already, 2 student workers hired.

Women’s Professional Forum Records
This collection was donated to the Martha Blakeney Hodges Special Collections and University Archives with funds for processing and digitization.

• Processing was not complete for last year’s cycle.
• Student in place and working on this now. May hire an additional student.

American Publishers Trade Bindings metadata cleanup
This is a project to clean up faulty metadata associated with a ten-year-old (but ongoing) digitization project involving rare decorative bookbindings.

• Almost done. projected completion late summer/early fall.

Children’s Literature (Phase 2)
A project to digitize unique and rare children’s books held by UNCG.

• In progress as time and resources permit.

Early Cello Manuscripts
Project to digitize early cello manuscripts, some dating to the 1700s, from our vast cello music holdings.

• Complete. Added an additional 500-plus pages in addition to the promised 750.

Maud Gatewood Papers
Project to digitize the papers of artist Maud Gatewood, for whom UNCG’s studio arts building is named. The collection includes thousands of sketches in addition to other items.

• Largely complete. Still assessing some oversize sketches for scanning vs. photography.

Peter Paul Fuchs Papers (Phase 1)
Project to digitize music scores pertaining to Peter Paul Fuchs, a Greensboro conductor, composer, and teacher.

• Complete. Approximately 1600 pages of material.

Women Veterans Historical Project
Ongoing contributions to one of our most-used digitized collections.

• Added 24 oral histories, plus about 500 additional items (photos, documents, etc.)

Alpha Delta Kappa Records
Digitized records (mostly scrapbooks) from collection of records related to an organization of women educators at UNCG.

• In progress: Promised 3600 pages, completed 7611 pages. Maybe halfway done at this point.
• Project much bigger than anticipated.

Metadata projects

• DPLA rights statements (http://rightsstatements.org/) completely implemented on all but one collection. ETA for completion: End of July.
• Worked out local subject tags issue controlled vocabulary and implemented changes on Good Medicine. Holding off on retrofitting other collections pending CDM replacement.

Other accomplishments, side projects, etc.

• CONTENTdm site redesign with new navigation and improved user interface. 
• Additional small-project work with Greensboro History Museum:

• Price School Scrapbook
• World War I Scrapbooks: Online shortly.
• O. Henry Correspondence: Online shortly.

“I’m always more interested in the present and the future than the past,” the famous Wall Street millionaire, government fixer, and philanthropist admits at this 1957 Book and Author Luncheon. At eighty-seven, Baruch has published a best-selling memoir, Baruch: My Own Story, which covers his “Huck Finn” youth in South Carolina as well as his time as a speculator when he earned the nickname The Lone Wolf of Wall Street. But Baruch seems more concerned about where the United States is heading than where he has been. This talk takes place after the Soviet launch of Sputnik, which put the country at a distinct disadvantage in the space race. While US know-how was devoted to “cars and gadgets” we have neglected missiles and the Moon. He seems particularly incensed by the rise of the automobile, seeing “the path to defeat…widening to a super-highway,” one we will travel in a two-tone convertible. In addition to falling behind in meaningful technology, we are also losing the battle for the hearts and minds of the world’s uncommitted countries.

Baruch traces the cause to the current administration’s anti-tax sentiment, which has stifled research and national preparedness. “There are worse burdens than taxes,” he warns. Sputnik is “more than a satellite.” It is a test of our democracy. After this ringing call to action, he rather reluctantly turns to the book he is ostensibly publicizing. But even here he dwells more on a second volume he will soon start writing, mentioning a staggering list of world leaders and captains of industry with whom he has dealt. This work will, if nothing else, “keep me out of trouble.”

Bernard Baruch (1870-1965) cultivated the image of a simple man who conducted his business, dispensing advice and solving problems, while sitting on a park bench either in New York or Washington, DC. In fact, Baruch was an incredibly savvy financial investor and political operator who wielded enormous influence both on Wall Street and with administrations of Wilson, Roosevelt, and Truman. After buying his own seat on the Stock Exchange, Baruch amassed a fortune in the early 1900’s. But his interest soon turned to public service. As the Baruch College website recounts:

Bernard Baruch as a young boxer, c. 1892-1893.
(Image Courtesy of the Baruch College Archives)

When World War I began, Baruch was among the first to champion preparedness in the event of America’s entry into the war. Although his warnings went unheeded, he continued to agitate for it up until the United States’ entry in 1917, when he was appointed to the War Industries Board, eventually becoming the head of that organization. His mobilization of the resources of the country was immensely successful and he resigned at the end of 1918 to follow President Wilson to Europe for the peace conference.  Baruch returned to America a changed man. While much of the country was regretting the involvement of the United States in the war and slipping back into isolationism, it was a turning point for Bernard. He decided not to return to his financial career full time and try to concentrate on public affairs as much as possible. As he himself admitted, public service was much more satisfying than making money. “At the age of forty-nine, I had already enjoyed two careers – in finance and, much more briefly, in government. The war had taken me out of Wall Street, often described as a narrow alley with a graveyard at one end and a river on the other, and plunged me deeply into the broad stream of national and international affairs.”

Baruch correctly forecast the crash of ’29 and, as one of the few survivors of that financial cataclysm, served as liaison between Wall Street and the new Democratic administration.  The Encyclopedia Britannica tells how:

As an expert in wartime economic mobilization, Baruch was employed as an adviser by President Franklin D. Roosevelt during World War II, although he did not hold an administrative position. After the war Baruch played an instrumental role in formulating policy at the United Nations regarding the international control of atomic energy. The designation of “elder statesman” was applied to him perhaps more often than to any other American of his time.

Yet despite having known almost every important politician from, as he says in this talk, “Reconstruction to the Age of Space,” Baruch does seem to have retained some of that respect for quiet, unspectacular achievement implied by the image of the man on a bench. As the New York Times noted in its obituary:

When asked for his idea of the greatest figure of his age, Mr. Baruch responded: “The fellow that does his job every day. The mother who has children and gets up and gets the breakfast and keeps them clean and sends them of to school. The fellow who keeps the streets clean—without him we wouldn’t have any sanitation. The Unknown Soldier. Millions of men.”

Thank you to Assistant Archivist Steven Calco at the Baruch College Archives for providing research assistance.

Audio courtesy of the NYC Municipal Archives WNYC Collection.

WNYC archives id: 70960Municipal archives id: LT7743

The National Archives is proud to partner with Slate to co-host the #TinyDeclaration contest on Twitter. Slate originated the contest in 2010. This year, we are inviting the public (that means you!) to try to capture the essence of the Declaration of Independence in 140 characters or less, and tweet it out, using the hashtag: #TinyDeclaration.

The contest starts at noon on Monday June 26, and ends at noon on Thursday, June 29th. I will be judging the contest, along with the Editor-in-Chief of Slate, Julia Turner, and author Brad Meltzer. Finalists will be announced Friday on Slate.com.

The winner will receive some fun Founding Fathers swag from the National Archives Foundation: a July 4 t-shirt, a mug, a dapper pair of socks with images of George Washington, and of course, a copy of the Declaration of Independence. You can check out the swag and more at our shop.

Come on down to the National Archives on the 4th, where I will read the winning tweet aloud during our Fourth of July ceremony. Will you be the winner?

Reference inquiries from alumni during Reunions can lead to some pretty deep dives in our archival collections. This spring I had an opportunity to dig into a narrow but significant slice of early American history represented in the Amherst College archives – Shays’ Rebellion, a local conflict which began 231 years ago this summer.

Shays’ Rebellion exemplifies the fierce reaction to the economic instability of rural America just after the American Revolution. As commerce grew after the end of the Revolutionary War, the informal system of exchange employed by farmers and merchants in Massachusetts was no longer viable. Merchants were in need of money in order to carry weight in foreign trade but farmers were unable to pay their debts. The Court of Common Pleas moved to allow creditors to call in debts.

This, coupled with higher taxes imposed by the state legislature, pushed the farmers to their limits. By the fall of 1786 Daniel Shays led a band of fellow farmers in protest. Calling themselves “regulators,” the Shaysites’ attempts to shut down the courts in Springfield and Northampton (and other cities across Massachusetts) put pressure on the government to provide relief. As citizens mobilized, Governor Bowdoin, the state legislature, and the Confederation Congress deliberated as to how to respond.

This story has been told time and again. Because it is so prominent in the archival record it is easy to overlook the local perspective – the experience of those who witnessed these events so close to home.

One such witness was Elizabeth Porter Phelps (1747-1817), who owned the “Forty Acres” farm in Hadley, Massachusetts, at the time. The farm survives today as the Porter-Phelps-Huntington Museum, documenting six generations of the same family who lived and worked at the farm from the mid-eighteenth to the mid-twentieth century. Even more remarkable is the fact that ownership of the farm passed through the female line for the first three generations of its existence.

Elizabeth Porter Phelps’s diary

Elizabeth’s meticulously-kept diary is a glimpse into rural life in Colonial America and the Early Republic. She kept her diary from the 1760s through the 1810s. Her entries are brief but are in no way dull. She documented visitors, the comings and goings of family members, illness and death, farm work, and her religious views. She also recorded events touching her world that would have a greater impact on American history – including Shays’ Rebellion. Elizabeth’s diary shows a woman grappling with the larger consequences of civil unrest and military action while personally feeling the impact very close to home.

A well-worn page from the diary including the entry for September 24, 1786

Elizabeth’s first entry concerning Shays’ Rebellion is from September 24, 1786. The entry reflects the confusion of the moment. Her observation shows the region heavily divided – divisions that lay along economic lines. More successful farmers and wealthier inhabitants of the region worried that the civil unrest could expand and put the new nation at risk.

“Monday my Husband set out for Springfield – publick affairs seem to be in a confused situation. many are gone to prevent the sitting of the Court and many are gone to uphold the Court. O Lord bring order out of Disorder – thou canst effect it – we trust in allmighty power.”

“Thursday [December 14] Thanksgiving day. Coll’l Porter read an Address from the General Court to all the People in this common Wealth. There has been a great deal of Disturbance of late among the people, how it will tirminate God only knows. I desire to make it my earnest prayer to be fitted for events and prepared for Duty.”

In her entry for January 14, 1787, Elizabeth describes her husband, Charles Phelps, Jr., helping those in support of the government.

“Jan 14.  Thursday Morn my Husband set out with sleighs to help the men to Springfield which are raised in this town for the support of the Government … it Looks as Dark as Night, a very great Army is coming from toward Boston and some are Collecting upon the other side. It appears as if nothing but the imediate interposition of providence could prevent it …”

From September 1786 on, Governor Bowdoin increased the militia presence across the state. As the regulators increased activity, it became clear to the governor that even more military pressure was necessary. In January 1787, Bowdoin mobilized over 4,000 militiamen in the Boston area. Elizabeth mentions “some [troops] Collecting upon the other side” – referring to government forces gathering in Hampshire and Berkshire counties.

“Jan. 21. Sun. Mr. Hop. pr 1^st Chron. 4 and 9. Spoke very well upon the present dark Day. … Last Thursday the mob attempted to march into Springfield the Government fired the cannon Killed four.”

Elizabeth often recorded church attendance and the Bible verses highlighted in the service. During this period she seems to connect the substance of the sermons to the events of the day. This entry marks clashes between between state militia and regulators around the Springfield Armory.

And in spite of the violence, there is excitement over an encampment being stationed so close to home in Hadley:

“Jan. 28. Sun. Mr. Hop. pr Proverbs 19, 21. There are many Devices in the Heart of man but the Counsel of the Lord that shall stand – This has been a confused day, the Mob in a large Body at Northampton – another party at Amherst – what will be the event none can tell – we hope in Gods mercy – Just as Dusk my Husband got home. Monday Gen. Lyncoln came into Hadley with about three Thousand men. Tuesday Mr. Phelps carried the children into town to see ‘em.”

This is the “very great Army” mentioned on January 14. “Gen. Lyncoln” refers to Benjamin Lincoln, one of George Washington’s commanding officers during the Revolutionary War. A Massachusetts native, Lincoln was commander of the Southern department during the war. Afterwards, Lincoln participated in Massachusetts civic life, including serving a term as the lieutenant governor of the Commonwealth. Military encampments were a fact of life in late 18^th century America, bustling not only with soldiers but also civilians – who saw the encampment as entertainment and as an economic opportunity.

“Gen’l Lyncoln came into Hadley…”

In one of Elizabeth’s last entries concerning the rebellion, she describes attending the funeral of “one Walker Killed by the Insurgents”. The Walker in question was Jacob Walker, killed near Petersham. The regulators had decamped for Petersham, and the government forces soon followed. Walker was shot in an attempt to capture Jason Parmenter, a regulator who had fled to Vermont in the final conflict.

The February 18, 1787 entry

“Feb. 18. … Wednesday went to Hatfield to the Funeral of one Walker Killed by the Insurgents. Mr. Williams of Northampton made the first prayer. Mr. Wells of Whately preached Matt. 24 and 44. By ye also ready for at such an hour as ye think not, the son of man cometh – he was buried with the Honours of War …”

That Walker was buried with the “Honours of War” indicates how precarious the situation was to those living it. All of America was paying attention, unsure if Shays’ Rebellion could lead to a larger conflict that would disrupt the future of the new nation.

Elizabeth’s diary is part of the Porter-Phelps-Huntington Family Papers, on deposit at the Amherst College Archives from the Porter-Phelps-Huntington House Museum. The papers cover roughly 300 years of the family’s history, including correspondence, journals, and financial records. The finding aid for the collection is available here.

Today we want to share a few delightful photos from the January 1915 issue of Harper’s Bazaar.

This brief magazine feature showcases dance moves performed by Margaret Hawkesworth and Basil Durant, popular American ballroom dancers who performed throughout the United States and Europe.

Here are a couple of close-ups. First, Miss Hawkesworth and Mr. Durant leading off “with a graceful swinging step”:

I love their looks of deep concentration here, as well as that delicate foot-touch!

Here’s a minuet step, accompanied by equally delicate hand-touching. So civilized!

Readers may be interested to note Miss Hawkesworth’s stylized yet loose-fitting dress, part of a new fashion movement focusing on fabrics with drape and moving away from the long-entrenched, fashionable corseted silhouette. This article on fashion designer Paul Poiret gives a little more background into cutting-edge fashion of the 1910s.

JFK confronts the Berlin Crisis and nuclear testing in this 1961 press conference. Insisting that the crisis is “Soviet manufactured,” Kennedy first reads a lengthy statement summarizing the struggle over post-War Berlin. The Soviets want to make permanent the partition of Germany and include West Berlin in what will eventually become the German Democratic Republic. He warns that “Allied determination” will not wilt in the face of pressure being brought by Russia and East Germany. “Self-determination” is the US mantra, in this case meaning for the people of West Berlin.

On the subject of a possible nuclear test ban treaty, Kennedy insists that since the Soviet Union has essentially stopped negotiating, the US will consider resuming its own testing program. He clearly hopes this will encourage the Russians to resume the negotiations in Geneva. He then takes time to respond to one of Khrushchev’s typical undiplomatic taunts, that in terms of growth the United States is a “worn-out runner.” Kennedy cites statistics attempting to rebut the Soviet leader’s boast that the USSR economy will soon surpass that of the United States. He tries his own hand at analogy, accusing the Soviet leader of being like the hunter who has cleared a space on his wall for a tiger skin even though the tiger is very much alive.

What’s odd about the ensuing question period is how little these two major events register with the press. There is one question about mobilization in response to the Soviet threat in Germany (“Not at this time,” Kennedy answers) but more local issues predominate. A proposed swap with Cuba (tractors for prisoners), a potential limit on textile imports, ships flying under “flags on convenience,” and a remark of Richard Nixon’s are the topics of the day. One questioner does ask about the possible effects of radiation if nuclear testing is resumed but the president brushes her aside saying “all matters will be discussed” before testing resumes. Finally, at the end of the conference, he is invited to speculate on possible “deeds” rather than strongly-worded statements in response to Soviet aggression. Kennedy warns “We are talking about matters of extreme seriousness” and that he is “not going to discuss it politically.”

To understand the focus of Kennedy’s remarks at this press conference it is important to understand the historical context. As the JFK Library website recounts:

President Kennedy met with Soviet Premier Khrushchev in Vienna in June 1961, just five weeks after the humiliating defeat of the US-sponsored invasion of Cuba at the Bay of Pigs. Khrushchev took a hard line at the summit. He announced his intention to cut off Western access to Berlin and threatened war if the United States or its allies tried to stop him. Many US diplomats felt that Kennedy had not stood up to the Soviet premier at the summit and left Khrushchev with the impression that he was a weak leader.

Thus, Kennedy is walking a fine line here. He is trying to sound as bellicose as possible without actually turning a war of words into a real war. The Berlin situation was tense. Either side could use it as a pretext to resume hostilities which, with World War II a not-so-distant memory, parties in both governments would not have been averse to. As for nuclear testing, though his threat to resume testing may have been a ploy, Kennedy was indeed forced by both military pressure and public opinion to resume weapons testing in 1962. Eventually, though, The United States, the USSR, and Britain did sign a nuclear test ban treaty in 1963. Although it did not have an immediate effect on nuclear proliferation it did provide a framework for further agreements. The Encyclopedia Britannica points out that:

The Nuclear Test-Ban Treaty banned nuclear-weapons tests in the atmosphere, in outer space, and underwater but permitted underground testing and required no control posts, no on-site inspection, and no international supervisory body. It did not reduce nuclear stockpiles, halt the production of nuclear weapons, or restrict their use in time of war. Within a few months of signing by the three original parties in August 1963, the treaty was signed by more than 100 other governments, notable exceptions being France and China. The three original parties to the treaty, the United States, the United Kingdom, and the Soviet Union (and its successor, Russia), have the power to veto treaty amendments. Any amendment must be approved by a majority of all the signatory states, including all three of the original parties.

The Kennedy of this press conference seems confident and well-informed. One can hear in his responses the seeds of future conflicts, as when he refers to General Maxwell Taylor as his Special Military Representative (Taylor’s ascendency in the Kennedy White House is largely blamed for our initial involvement in Vietnam) and also truisms of a bygone economic era, as when he talks about our trade surplus with Japan. 

Audio courtesy of the NYC Municipal Archives WNYC Collection.

WNYC archives id: 150263Municipal archives id: LT9283

Keeping the customer’s needs front and center is important when developing new digital tools. We recently developed a set of user personas as part of our work to establish a more robust—and data informed—understanding of the individuals that engage digitally with the National Archives (NARA).

User personas are fictional, but realistic representations of key audience segments that are grounded in research and data. We recently applied customer data from a variety of sources including website analytics and online surveys to inform the creation of eight personas that represent our digital customers: Researchers, Veterans, Genealogists, Educators, History Enthusiasts, Curious Nerds, Museum Visitors, and Government Stakeholders. These personas not only help us capture knowledge about our customers and their needs and preferences, but also help NARA staff empathize with the individuals who use our services. User personas are often used by designers and developers to place the customer’s perspectives and needs at the center of the digital design and development process.

When conducting research to develop the individual personas, we took an analytical approach using data from our web and social media analytics, our online customer satisfaction survey, and incoming emails from customers. Additionally, we interviewed NARA staff that often interact with the user types we were trying to understand, in order to get their insight and feedback.

While fictional, these personas represent our major user groups and help us keep their needs and expectations at the forefront of our decision making. Each persona consists of two pages: the first page provides a snapshot of the user’s demographics and a quote to help bring the persona to life, while the second page provides user stories that help us to better understand how this audience interacts with NARA and why.

For example, as shown on the first page of our Genealogist persona, Mildred Mapleton, we can understand what digital platforms she uses and features she likes, how tech savvy she is, and what websites and search words she uses to find what she’s looking for:

Mildred, like all of our user personas, is not an actual person, but a realistic representation of one of NARA’s key audience segments. Her character is based on research and backed by evidence. Although the data gives us a good outline of who she is, the specifics you see here that make Mildred feel like a real, well-rounded person are semi-fictional and shaped by educated assumptions.

The second page of each persona provides user stories that describe who the user is, what they want, and why. They are written in the format: “As a <type of person>, I want <some goal> so that <some reason>.”

As shown on the second page of our Veteran persona, Victor Williams, we know that as a veteran who has submitted a request for records, Victor wants to easily determine the status so he knows how long he will have to wait to receive the paperwork. Each persona has multiple user stories associated with it to help NARA think about the various ways in which key audience segments interact with us digitally:

These representations of our customers are based on quantitative data (e.g., metrics about web pages viewed, social media use) and qualitative user research (e.g., online surveys). It is very important to remember that a persona is a composite representation of the prevalent qualities of an audience segment and will not exactly match a specific person or comprehensively describe the full diversity of a group.

These personas will be used to improve NARA’s customers’ digital experience. The ultimate goal is that every time a project with a digital component is discussed at NARA, these personas will be used to inform decision making. By identifying the personas that we work with most often and referring to them when thinking about new and better ways to serve them, we can work to better inform and prioritize our work and better understand customer interactions across all of our digital properties.

Learn more and meet the complete list of digital personas on archives.gov.

Publishers don’t usually like printing collections of short stories, the well-known lawyer and author confides in this 1967 Book and Author Luncheon. While people read stories in magazines, they are reluctant to buy them in book form. This may be because they have to “change gears” as they go along, adjusting every few pages to new settings and characters. To combat this, Auchincloss has provided several “common denominators,” easing the transitions between the stories in his most recent collection, Tales of Manhattan. The first five stories are told by a worker in an auction gallery. (New York is the art capitol of the world, he argues, not because so many artists live here but because there are so many dealers.) The second four are told by members of a law firm. Here he pauses to defend his use of first-person narration, claiming he sees nothing artificial in having a character “tell” you his story. The third grouping centers on society matrons, “my cops of high society.” This last section includes the text of a play. He talks about being bitten by the theater bug and how, after many years of trying, he finally saw this one produced and found the experience of listening to his own words “intoxicating.” He went to every performance, thus proving correct the advice once given him by Gore Vidal: “If you want to enjoy a play, you must write one.” He concludes with a paean to the book’s true common denominator, Manhattan itself.  Or rather the Manhattan of Auchincloss’ very exclusive world: “Old-fashioned, largely gone, but lingering in every store and under every auctioneer’s gavel.”

Louis Auchincloss (1917-2010) was inextricably associated with the world of upper class wealth and privilege. Yet the phrase “idle rich” is the very opposite of how one would describe him. As the New York Times pointed out:

Although he practiced law full time until 1987, Mr. Auchincloss published more than 60 books of fiction, biography and literary criticism in a writing career of more than a half-century. He was best known for his dozens and dozens of novels about what he called the “comfortable” world, which in the 1930s meant “an apartment or brownstone in town, a house in the country, having five or six maids, two or three cars, several clubs and one’s children in private schools.” This was the world he came from, and its customs and secrets were his subject from the beginning. He persisted in writing about it, fondly but also trenchantly, long after that world had begun to vanish.

This chosen subject made Auchincloss something of an outlier in the literary world. While some praised him for examining a largely ignored or at best caricatured stratum of society, others found his world narrow and snobbish. There was, critics seemed to imply, something inherently undemocratic, even un-American, about investing the morals and mores of the super-rich with such literary importance. The contrary view was expressed by Auchincloss’ fellow WASP aristocrat (and distant cousin) Gore Vidal, who was quoted in the Guardian newspaper as arguing:

Of all our novelists Auchincloss is the only one who tells us how our rulers behave in their banks and their boardrooms, their law offices and their clubs.

But Auchincloss was hardly a blind defender or booster of his class. While accepting, indeed embodying, many of its principles, he also provided in the very act of writing fiction a subversive insider’s view of the ruling class that had so enduringly composed the social life of “his” Manhattan. This tension between sincerely belonging and possibly contributing to its collapse is what informs his best work. It is the same tension one senses in his dual professions. As he told the alumni magazine of his alma mater, the University of Virginia School of Law:

 “I used to go to all the Saturday night parties with the other young lawyers. They talked all the time about whether they were going to be a partner; I thought here was a whole room of my friends who were all terrified they might not be partners; I was terrified I might be one.”

We have big news:

Special Collections at the Providence Public Library is publishing a comic book!

During the Spring semester 2017, students in the history research methods classes, HIS 391 and 430, helped to expand the UNCG NC Runaway Slave Advertisements Database. The current database contains advertisements through 1840 and is one of the most widely used digital collections maintained by the UNCG Library. Colson Whitehead acknowledged the database as an important resource for his award winning novel, The Underground Railroad. Students researched newspapers published across North Carolina in the 1850s and 1860s to add new material to the database.

The project offered valuable firsthand experience in how primary sources are digitized and how digitization changes the research process. Library staff trained students in the use of microfilm readers and archival practices for digitizing primary sources, including scanning the original documents and identifying the metadata that will assist researchers in searching the collected advertisements. Students learned how digitization changes the process of historical interpretation—what kind of information is lost and what is gained. For example, they considered what they learned from seeing a runaway slave ad in the context of the original newspaper page and how that context is lost when ads are collected and organized in a database. On the other hand they learned it is possible to study many more digitized ads searching the database compared to the amount of time it took to read the microfilmed newspaper and identify each advertisement.

After collecting and scanning the advertisements, students designed a wide variety of individual research projects on topics inspired by the primary sources.

This advertisement for the remarkable runway, James Lord, who worked as a Pressman for the Fayetteville Observer, inspired a student research project on the ways that runaway slave ads document literacy among slaves.

Topics ranged from the experience of women runaways to constructions of African American masculinity; from medical practices documented in the ads that described marks from cupping and lancets to an exploration of the objects that runaways took with them when they escaped; from the distinctive experience of runaways in the North Carolina mountains to the maroon communities of the coast.  Newspapers from the Civil War era were included in the sample so that we could see how the last years of slavery affected runaway experience. Students made fascinating discoveries about the continued use of runaway advertisements long after the 13th Amendment ended slavery.

This advertisement for runaway George Washington was published in the Greensboro Patriot in November 1867. It inspired a student to research the role of the Freedman’s Bureau and the continued practice of indenturing workers after the Civil War ended.

The Library has been awarded a strategic seed grant to expand the database and the advertisements collected by history students will be added to the database in the coming months.

(Contributed by Dr. Lisa Tolbert, UNCG Department of History)

A belated but very happy Commencement to Amherst’s graduated seniors!  We in the Archives are happy to have gotten to know so many of you through your coursework, personal research and thesis research.  We wish you all the best out there!

It has been a good long while since we wrote an update of what’s new in our Digital Collections and now the entire run of Amherst Student newspapers from 1959-1977 is entirely digitized and available in ACDC.  Thanks to the hard work of our Digital Programs, Technical Services and IT departments, we are able to draw your attention to the Commencement issues of the Amherst Student from past decades.

These Commencement issues of the Amherst Student include information specific about commencement happenings – for example, Eleanor Roosevelt gave the Commencement address and received an honorary degree in 1960 – but also includes reflections from students about their years at Amherst and significant events on campus – such as the 1968 Moratorium that led to the creation of the Black Studies Department in 1970 or the first co-ed graduating class of 1976.

The Amherst Student is interesting for its documentation of campus-centric events, but also serves as an interesting lens to view how national and international events, politics, and conversations played out at Amherst.

The years 1960-1977 were selected for an early digitization pilot because of their relevance to this year and the coming years’ 50th reunion classes, however we are working on digitizing and making available the entire run of Amherst Student newspapers beginning in 1867.

All issues of the Amherst Student 1959-1977 are available in our Digital Collections: https://acdc.amherst.edu/search/amherst+student/collection/asc/topic/College+student+newspapers+and+periodicals.

See previous updates of our Amherst College Digital Collections here and here and here.

“Starve,” is James DePreist’s laconic answer when asked what conductors do between guest appearances with various orchestras. Though treated as a joke by the rather clueless interviewer in this 1968 edition of Music and the Message, DePreist’s reply turns out to be part of a comprehensive overview of what it is like to be a young, American-born conductor in a climate that overwhelmingly favors European maestros. DePreist is black and does not shy away from that additional roadblock to his career aspirations—indeed he is here to promote a performance by The Symphony of the New World, “the only truly integrated symphony orchestra”—but he is more intent on explaining to listeners the dilemma faced by all aspiring conductors. The situation is “a rather dismal one.” One can either take part in “pops” concerts, which do nothing for one’s reputation, or go to Europe, where one is judged more in terms of musicianship than nationality.

DePreist has been living in Rotterdam lately and is pleased to report that with the Rotterdam Philharmonic he is not asked to perform solely American programs featuring Gershwin and Copeland but expected to interpret the full classical repertory. Throughout this interview, DePreist tries to downplay, without excusing, what element racial prejudice must have played in his attempt to lead orchestras. But yet another hurdle he had to overcome is never even mentioned: after an attack of polio in 1962, DePreist was left without the use of his legs! Considering the highly visible nature of a conductor’s work and the widespread shunning of the disabled at that time one can only marvel at the persistence and will-power and talent DePreist must have shown to eventually lead a full and successful career.

James DePreist (1926-2013) was born into a musical family (the famous singer Marian Anderson was his aunt) and showed talent at an early age. However, it was not until 1962 that he discovered his true calling. As NPR reported:

He had been brought by the State Department to play with his jazz quintet; on something of a lark, he was invited to conduct a rehearsal with the Bangkok Symphony. That rehearsal led to an epiphany, as DePreist told Hurst: “You feel entirely differently than you felt before, ever, and you say, ‘This is something that I could really commit my life to. And not only could I, I would be really bummed if I couldn’t.”

But along with this unexpected summons came the crushing setback of his bout with polio. It is hard to imagine a more difficult way to set out on a new career path. The New York Times, in its obituary, tells how:

While being treated he spent several months studying scores in preparation for the 1963 Dmitri Mitropoulos International Conducting Competition. During the competition, “the other candidates looked at me in braces and on crutches and thought, ‘Well, we can write him off,’ ” Mr. DePreist recalled … But he recovered enough to reach the semifinals. The next year, he won.

DePreist went on to earn acclaim in Europe and eventually returned to the United States to conduct the National Symphony Orchestra. He was a much sought-after guest conductor both in America and Europe but his most lasting impact was made in Portland, where he led the Oregon Symphony from 1980 to 2003. DePreist essentially took a well-thought-of regional orchestra and transformed into an internationally respected ensemble. He also established strong links with orchestras in Tokyo (where a popular Japanese cartoon character was named after him) and in New York where he conducted the Julliard School Orchestra and smaller student ensembles. In addition to his musical endeavors he published two well-received books of poetry.

As can be heard in this interview, DePreist, even before he had achieved international recognition, possessed a forceful and charismatic personality, invaluable qualities for the leader of an orchestra. As the Times Colonist newspaper reported:

Peter Frajola, a principal violinist hired by DePriest more than a quarter-century ago, said the symphony took “phenomenal musical journeys” with the conductor, and his influence went beyond the concert hall. “A huge figure in the Portland area; everybody knew him,” Frajola said. “Even if you weren’t a musician, even if you never went to the symphony, you knew who Jimmy was. Everybody loved him. He was just absolutely wonderful speaker to the audience. Made everyone feel welcome.”

 Indeed, when DePriest was suffering from kidney disease he received a new kidney from a devoted fan. Among his many honors was the National Medal of Arts which he was awarded in 2005.

DePriest is joined in this interview by soprano Joyce Mathis, who had a distinguished career performing both opera (notably with Leontyne Price) and art songs.

Audio courtesy of the NYC Municipal Archives WNYC Collection.

WNYC archives id: 151623Municipal archives id: T4400

The art handlers just delivered this crate filled with Emily Dickinson manuscripts and books and ephemera. 

This crate is filled with several smaller boxes, all wrapped in plastic and safe in their particle board and Styrofoam chambers. After the years of work that went into mounting the Emily Dickinson exhibition at the Morgan Library in New York, it will take me just a couple of hours to unpack and restore each item to its Amherst home.

Once again I want to thank everyone who helped make the Morgan Library exhibition possible, with a special shout out to the amazing Carolyn Vega, my co-conspirator in what turned out to be a very special exhibition that came at exactly the right historical moment.

 But this exhibition will live on in the form of the catalog published by Amherst College Press. Although I have a personal preference for the print edition of this volume, it is freely available for download from our all-open-access press:

https://acpress.amherst.edu/the-networked-recluse/

Fred Allen turns to a different medium. Yes, it’s still radio in this 1954 broadcast of a Book and Author Luncheon, but the former king of the comedy airwaves is here to plug his book, Treadmill to Oblivion. As the title indicates, Allen’s acerbic wit is still much in evidence. He has been preceded by the author of a book on taste. Don’t worry, he assures the audience. “My book has no taste whatsoever.” He then talks about his youth in a small New England town. There is an almost surreal streak to Allen’s humor. He describes how he was “drawn” to New York: he was standing by the train tracks with a bunch of nails in his pockets when a flatbed car carrying a huge magnet sped by and…. He then riffs on how to go about selling this book, imagining various special editions, including a snack edition; page 80 would be a slice of rye bread, page 81 a piece of ham….

Too much of a reserved New Englander to be really nasty, Allen saves most of his vitriol for the medium that pushed him off the air: television. He envisions a special edition aimed at “…television addicts who are reading a book for the first time.” He takes aim at his Boston-based publishers for their timid attempts at publicity (a boy running up and down Beacon Street shouting the name of the book into people’s keyholes) but finally admits, “a book becomes successful because people read it, like it, and tell other people.” Despite being the essence of a show business personality, Allen comes across here as a level-headed, regular guy.

Fred Allen was born in 1894. He spent many years in vaudeville as a juggler and ventriloquist before that medium’s collapse drove him into radio, where his instantly recognizable, flat, nasal voice caught the attention of sponsors. But Allen was far more than a one-note ex-vaudevillian. As Dennis Drabelle, writing in The American Scholar, notes: 

Allen’s wit was the funnel through which all manner of nonsense passed. He specialized in satirical takeoffs on the news, though not so much the headline stories as the human-interest fillers, mined from the nine newspapers he read daily and served up as “The March of Trivia.” To enact his riffs, he invented a parade of eccentrics played by a stock company. His lust for the highs and lows of the English language was another constant. … Sometimes he struck a note of homespun poetry, as when one of his characters described his own inamorata as “prettier than a peacock backin’ into a sunset.”

For almost two decades Allen’s comedy show reigned at or near the top of the radio standings. Whereas his competition, notably Jack Benny with whom Allen conducted a mock feud, relied exclusively on teams of writers, Allen was famous for taking a much more hands-on approach to his scripts, eschewing the musty fodder of “joke files” or reliance on cheap laughs. Al Lewis, a writer who worked on the show, recalls for the Comedy-O-Rama website: 

“Fred was wonderful…I tried to write for him, but he always added better lines that would knock my socks off. Once a college girl was on, talking about how George Washington Carver had discovered a way to make ink out of a peanut, glue out of a peanut, and milk from a peanut. And Fred ad-libbed, “Milk from a peanut? He must have had a very low stool!” That was the greatest non-thinking rejoinder I ever heard. There I was sitting in a room struggling to put the black stuff on the white stuff, and he made it look easy.”

But the Golden Age of Radio was a short one. Television posed a particular threat to Allen who, unlike Benny, could not make the transition to situation comedy. He was also in failing health, suffering from hypertension and heart disease. As Garrison Keillor relates in the New York Times:

He was beaten badly in the 1948-49 ratings by a dumb quiz show, ”Stop the Music” – a bitter fate, losing to smiling nonentities like Bert Parks and the show’s producer, Mark Goodson. Allen fought back with a parody, ”Cease the Melody,” in which dimwitted contestants won 4,000 yards of dental floss and two floors of the Empire State Building by identifying the anthem ”America,” and he took out an insurance policy to compensate his listeners in the event that ”Stop the Music” telephoned any of them during his show. But he dropped from the Top Ten to No. 38 in just a few weeks, and left the air on June, 1949.

This prepared speech does not show Allen at his best. His now sixty-year-old brand of humor is perhaps best appreciated for what it is not. He does not talk down or pander. He cannot bring himself to be cruel. Yet this is not “gentle” comedy. Rather, it appeals to the intelligence without being intellectual, a neat trick, one not often seen duplicated since.

After this book, Allen worked on an autobiography, Much Ado About Me, which was published posthumously.

Fred Allen died in 1956. 

Audio courtesy of the NYC Municipal Archives WNYC Collection.

WNYC archives id: 150152Municipal archives id: LT2987

For those unable to visit the Heritage Museum, an online exhibit has been created for the Heritage Protocol & University Archives project Degrees of Discovery. The digital exhibit includes additional items and information not included in the physical exhibit, providing new understandings about the various scientific developments on campus over the years.

Creating the digital exhibit offered an entirely fresh perspective of the objects I had curated for Degrees of Discovery. The first step was to determine the best way to view each object on a screen, rather than in person. Staging a physical exhibit requires an awareness of how items play off each other’s size, color, and texture; because digital items are more likely to be viewed individually, the focus lies with image clarity and whether the digital copy is a faithful representation of the original. After digitizing each object using scanners and conventional photography, I sat down to compile the information that would help people understand the objects they would now see on a computer screen. Rather than interpreting the items in relation to each other to tell a story, I needed to objectively observe each object in terms of size, genre, creator, and subject matter. The information I could glean from the item became its metadata. If you’ve used a catalog record in a library, you’ve seen metadata; it’s the information that describes the item, like the date of publication or its place in a larger series. This metadata allows users to search for objects if they have a subject, keyword, or title already in mind. Though arguably less creative than the initial curatorial development, the creation and implementation of the objects’ metadata is what makes it possible for users to find what they’re looking for.

To explore the digital exhibit, visit degreesofdiscovery.omeka.net.

In addition to developing the library classification scheme that still bears his name — the Dewey Decimal System — Melvil Dewey was a champion of spelling reform. If one didn’t know that this letter to Amherst Trustee George Plimpton was written by Melvil Dewey, one might assume it was the work of a semi-literate crank.

Dewey came to Amherst College in the fall of 1870 and the catalog for his Freshman year shows he had not yet lopped the superfluous letters from his first name: “Melville.”

Sometime in his second year at the college he became obsessed with libraries and library classification. He spent much of the next two years working in Morgan Library at Amherst as well as visiting nearby libraries such as Boston Public Library and the Boston Athenaeum in search of the ideal classification system.

Melvil Dewey, Amherst College Class of 1874.

After graduating in 1874, Dewey was hired by the college to serve as Assistant Librarian, a position he held for two years before moving on. He continued to develop his classification system and in 1876 arranged for it to be published.

The letter at the top of this post is on Lake Placid Club stationery, another of Dewey’s passion projects. Dewey founded the Lake Placid Club in 1895, possibly inspired by the physical fitness program he experienced as an Amherst undergraduate.

Dewey died in 1931, but his efforts to promote Lake Placid and the Adirondacks High Peaks region as a site for winter recreation paid off handsomely when Lake Placid hosted the Third Winter Olympics in 1932. When the Lake Placid Club held a dinner in celebration of Dewey’s 100th birthday, they printed the menu using his “Simpler Speling.”

While the Dewey Decimal Classification system remains popular around the world, and Lake Placid hosted a second Winter Olympics in 1980, little remains of Dewey’s spelling reforms. I wonder how many visitors to the Adirondacks realize that the same guy who developed the Dewey classification system is also responsible for the idiosyncratic spelling of the “Adirondack Loj” at Heart Lake…

JFK addresses his colleagues. Or are they his adversaries? In this speech at the 1956 National Book Awards, the junior senator from Massachusetts would appear to be among his fellow writers. As the introductory speaker notes, Kennedy’s book of essays, Profiles in Courage, is “rapidly climbing the bestseller list.” Yet the tack he takes in his keynote speech is to set in opposition the writer and the politician. He playfully casts himself as being “in the camp of the enemy; you, the authors, the scholars, the intellectuals, and the eggheads of America, the traditional foes of politicians in every part of the country.”

He makes a plea for a truce between the political and literary world. Citing such historical oddities as a poem by Senator Sam Houston, he argues that in the past the two sides were not so far apart. “Where are the scholar-statesmen of yesteryear?” he laments. Claiming they should be natural allies, he points out how politicians, who actually deal with the rough-and-tumble of conflict, have a great deal to offer the sedentary author in the way of dramatic material and life experience. Writers, for their part, can keep politicians honest, prevent them from going down “the primrose path of never-ending compromise.” Perhaps most impressive about this speech are the many historical and literary references Kennedy uses to illustrate his points. Casually mentioning Charlemagne, Lear, Byron, and many others, he displays that rare politician’s ease in seeming to share with his audience certain basic values. He flatters them (or perhaps he is being sincere) in suggesting that both they and he have a significant role to play in the future workings of American democracy. He treats them as his equal. By the end one senses he has won over yet another constituency, as he sets his sights on the 1960 presidential election.

Theodore C. Sorensen, presumably 1961-1963
(John F. Kennedy Presidential Library/Wikimedia Commons)

The question of John F. Kennedy’s authorship of Profiles in Courage, which won the Pulitzer Prize the following year, has long been a subject in which politicians and writers truly do share a compelling interest. Almost immediately upon publication rumors swirled to the effect that work was largely ghost-written by his aide Ted Sorensen. Despite Sorensen’s denials, these persist to the present day. In the end, Sorensen described what can be best seen as a murky creative process. The website Liquisearch explains how:

In May 2008, Sorensen clarified in his autobiography, Counselor, how he collaborated with Kennedy on the book: “While in Washington, I received from Florida almost daily instructions and requests by letter and telephone – books to send, memoranda to draft, sources to check, materials to assemble, and Dictaphone drafts or revisions of early chapters. Sorensen wrote that Kennedy “worked particularly hard and long on the first and last chapters, setting the tone and philosophy of the book” and that “I did a first draft of most chapters” and “helped choose the words of many of its sentences.” JFK “publicly acknowledged in his introduction to the book my extensive role in its composition.” Sorensen claimed that in May 1957, Kennedy “unexpectedly and generously offered, and I happily accepted, a sum to be spread over several years, that I regarded as more than fair” for his work on the book. 

As for the speech’s olive branch held out to writers and, by extension, the arts in general, the Kennedy White House was certainly perceived as a more welcome to and appreciative of artists than its Eisenhower-era predecessor. Some of this must be attributed to Jacqueline Kennedy, who, as her subsequent career in publishing showed, genuinely respected the written word. As for Kennedy himself, the enigma, the essential unknowability of a master politician’s true feelings (if he has any) makes his attitude difficult to judge. Even a website as naturally inclined to praise as that of the JFK Library admits: 

JFK enjoyed literature and poetry, especially the work of the Romantic era English poet Lord Byron and the American Robert Frost. Jacqueline Kennedy loved poetry as well and was also deeply committed to both music and the visual arts. There is little evidence that JFK was particularly sophisticated about the arts. He read widely, but never considered himself an intellectual or an original thinker. His musical tastes ran to Broadway show tunes and Irish ballads rather than Mozart or Beethoven. Once, when asked about the president’s taste in music, the first lady replied that his favorite piece was “Hail to the Chief.” 

Audio courtesy of the NYC Municipal Archives WNYC Collection.

WNYC archives id: 150222Municipal archives id: LT7121

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the birth of President John F. Kennedy. In commemoration of this centennial, the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum will be hosting a series of events and activities throughout the year.

JFK 100: Milestones & Mementos is the newest exhibition at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, opening on Friday, May 26 at 11:00 am. This exhibition chronicles historic milestones in the President’s career and administration, as well as the events of his personal and family life. Discover all of the JFK100 events and activities during the centennial celebration: learn more about the legacy of JFK, explore and contribute to the “Where in the World is JFK?” interactive map, find an event near you, and see how the National Archives is celebrating throughout the year.

Join us today for #JFK100 Social Media Day! Throughout the day, the National Archives will join other archives, museums, and cultural organizations to celebrate the 100th anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s birth.

Learn about the life, Presidency, and legacy of JFK through social media activities hosted by the GLAM (Galleries, Libraries, Archives, Museums) community. Experts will be on hand to talk about the impact of President Kennedy, First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy, and the Kennedy White House. Whether your interests are in science and innovation, arts and culture, public service, civil rights, or peace and diplomacy, there will be so much for you to explore!

Explore the full schedule of events and activities.

Some Context

Mayor John F. Hylan made the remarks reprinted below when radio was still very much in its formative stages. KDKA Pittsburgh, with which WNYC was frequently compared because our transmitter was a replica of theirs, was the first commercially licensed station and only four years old. The Commerce Department was overseeing the issue of licenses and regulations that had not kept pace with rapid changes and innovations in the technology. The establishment of the Federal Radio Commission was still three years off, and its successor agency, the FCC, wouldn’t come on the scene for another ten.

Radio Digest report during city’s fight to get a transmitter. (WNYC Archive Collections)

Pressing communications issues of the day had Hylan focused on a handful of key points to justify a government, tax-supported broadcaster. He clearly opposed a broadcast system like that found in Britain, supported by receiving set license fees. He and WNYC founder Grover Whalen had just fought against what they called ‘the Radio Trust,’ characterized  as a corporate conspiracy to control the airwaves through patent ownership of the technology. Like most politicians of every era, Hylan felt he wasn’t getting a fair shake from the press and argued the print media alone was not up to the task of providing for an informed citizenry. Commercial broadcasting too, he believed, could not sufficiently fill certain gaps in information, education and entertainment. And finally, Hylan argued that the emerging technology would be a boon to police, fire and health departments by helping to capture criminals, smother flames sooner and keep the public up to date in the war on disease.   

1925 newspaper headline about Mayor Hylan’s use of WNYC. (WNYC Archive Collections)

But even as WNYC was just getting on the air, the chief concern among its critics was the potential for abuse by a government-controlled broadcaster; a concern that would cast a shadow over the station for the next 73 years. One wary editorial board wrote: “There will be a strong temptation to make the municipal radio a partisan instrument. Nor is there anything in the record of this Administration to inspire the belief that the temptation will be resisted.” Indeed, Hylan would prove that he couldn’t resist using the station for political ends, provoking a threat to its existence. Fortunately, the baby WNYC wasn’t thrown out with the bath water. In fact, the amazing thing is that the station went on to survive nearly annual calls for its defunding in the name of weary taxpayers, as well as periodic charges of censorship, commercialism, communist propaganda, and bias toward one group or another through twelve more administrations: Democratic, Fusion and Republican.

More than just surviving, WNYC became a fertile ground for innovation and leadership in broadcasting; provided countless opportunities for those who would advance journalism and art; and provided a forum for debate, discussion and exploration of the pressing issues of the day. And it could enter the home and heart like few other outlets, creating an unprecedented type of personal connection, free of commercials.  

The following speech by Mayor John F. Hylan was delivered over WNYC, July 8, 1924 commencing at 9:22 PM.

_______________________________________

The City of New York employs tonight a new medium for the entertainment and education of the people — The Municipal Radio Broadcasting Station. There are some five hundred broadcasting stations throughout the country, but this is the first one to be conducted under municipal auspices.*  In view of the existence of so many private stations, inquiry might very properly be made as to the necessity for the operation of an independent station by the City of New York. A few observations may be helpful.

In the field of entertainment by radio, acknowledgment is at once made that for the past three years private broadcasting stations have performed a most commendable civic service. The sign-boards of the time, however, hold out no assurance of a continuance of free reception on the same scale as the radio audience has been enjoying.

We are told that many artists, heretofore content with the flowers of publicity and popularity garnered through radio performances, are now seeking something which appeals to the purse as well as to the heart. Pocket-filling as well as soul-filling appreciation is rapidly becoming the order of the day. Who shall meet the expense incident to the gratification of this very human impulse is a subject inviting a great diversity of opinion.

National organizations are reported to have issued orders against radio performances by any of their concert artists because gratis radio performances have in many instances not only failed to increase subsequent paid admissions to concerts but have also occasionally reacted unfavorably on the box office. Opposed to this contention, the broadcasting of plays and musical comedies, some of which have not been overburdened with theatre patronage, is said to have given a healthy impetus to increased attendance.

An announcement that is becoming more and more familiar to all owners of receiving sets is: “Owing to copyright complications, this number cannot be broadcasted.” That, at least, is definite, tangible, evidence that lavish broadcasting of popular musical numbers or those from which a maximum of revenue has yet to be derived, is now a thing of the past.

Manufacturers and private business establishments, which have been paying for broadcasting of radio programs, generously interlarded with references to their enterprises, are not a unit in proclaiming that this method of advertising their wares brings results justifying the expenditure. In fact, it is not unusual to hear that an audience, which has been prepared for a program free from advertising, takes with ill-grace a  program decorated with propaganda and declines to be numbered among the well-wishers of the business exploited.

Viewing the future situation of the radio from these many angles, one may, with good cause, anticipate a retrenchment rather than an expansion of free radio entertainment.

Many suggestions have been put forward for bridging the gulf between the cost borne by private enterprise and the radio services enjoyed by the public. A monthly tax to be paid by all “listeners-in” and to be collected by the private broadcasting stations, but in a manner not yet disclosed, is one plan.  The use of an unusual wave length or other expedient, requiring the purchase of a special device for reception, is another.  The simultaneous broadcasting by widely scattered stations and the construction of a national super-broadcasting station, furthering the purposes of economy, are still others. Running through most of the suggestions offered is the disquieting conclusion that the public need hardly expect to continue indefinitely to receive entertainment with no greater contribution than the mere turning of a dial.

It would not be well for the City of New York to be laggard in recognizing the possible evil effects of a discontinuance of free radio service or a centralization of control of broadcasting which might mean the placing of a financial impost upon the public, or, the acceptance by the public, in lieu thereof, of odds and ends of educational and recreational programs.  Doubtless, there are many individuals upon whom a special tax for radio reception would rest with no great weight. But they are decidedly in the minority. Countless thousands could not afford to bear an expense other than the original cost of a radio set and occasional replacement parts.

Hence, the responsible officials of the City of New York, appreciating their obligation to provide for such a contingency and any other possible untoward developments in the radio industry, have opened Station WNYC, a powerful and efficient broadcasting equipment, for the benefit of the people, not alone of New York but of all the nation, to whom this city belongs.

To insure uninterrupted program of recreational entertainment for all the people is one of the compelling reasons for the installation of the Municipal Radio Broadcasting Station. To assist the police department in the work of crime prevention and detection; the fire department in the expeditious employment of its land and marine equipment in fighting fires; and the health department in safeguarding the physical well-being of New York’s gigantic population are also some of the conspicuous services to be rendered by this municipal plant. The improvement of the people in every walk of life, through the educative power of the radio, may also be considered one of its paramount purposes. Good government, depending as it does upon an intelligent, active and alert citizenship, demands the employment of every possible means for a wider diffusion of authoritative information upon municipal matters.

Generally speaking, facts and information regarding the municipal service are obtained through three principal channels: personal observations of actual conditions; daily newspapers; and official reports summarizing, quarterly and annually, the activities of service.

Those who have opportunities to become personally familiar with the operations of the municipal machinery, because of business relations which bring them in contact with particular arms of the service are few in number. The great majority of the people lose such contact because there is no business necessity or personal inclination for making a dreary round of department. There is, however, a very general desire to become acquainted with the operations of government if the information but be imparted in an attractive manner. The Silver Jubilee Exhibit is an example. A comprehensive idea of how the municipal government functions was there given, and hundreds of thousands were not slow to take advantage of it. The lessons in civic science, graphically presented, constituted an advance in popular education that brought forth many favorable tributes of appreciation.

The second channel of information — the daily newspapers –unquestionably reaches the greatest number of people. For a variety of reason, however, the press does not always find it expedient to devote much space to the routine of government and hence educative features pertaining to municipal government, are now, as a rule, particularly stressed.

Official reports, constituting a dependable channel of information, are always of interest to the student of the science of government. Unfortunately, they lack appeal to the average citizen because of the abundance of statistical data necessarily included for comparative as well as record purposes.

Thus is will be seen that in none of the three principal channels for public enlightenment on municipal government are the great masses of the people effectively reached. Yet an enlightened citizen interest is imperative if government is to be made either representative or successful.

We have, therefore, been confronted with the necessity of providing a new channel for the dissemination of municipal information. That new channel is the Municipal Radio.

Municipal information, formerly available only after patient perusal of reports, is now to be brought into one’s home in an interesting, delightful and attractive form. Facts, civic, social, commercial and industrial, will be marshaled and presented by those with their subjects well in hands. Talks on timely topics will also be broadcasted. Programs sufficiently diversified to meet all tastes, with musical concerts, both vocal and instrumental, featured at ll times, should make “tuning-in” on the Municipal Radio pleasant as well as profitable.

Through the employment of this modern and very effective means of transmitting information, an aroused public interest in the municipal government may logically be expected to ensue upon a broader understanding, a clearer knowledge and a deeper appreciation of its functioning. And it follows, as night the day, that the more enlightened the citizenship the better it becomes.

That there is need of an extension of education in public matters at this time, even to a greater extent than has heretofore been considered necessary, will be appreciated when it is recalled that for the first time, after more than a half century of struggle, the City of New York now enjoys some measure of Home Rule. How well we shall use the new grant of power depends both upon the people themselves who are the paymasters of their public servants.

The best results will be achieved when each group, appreciating its individual responsibilities, cooperates with the other toward a common end. The pressure of public opinion is essential to the safe guidance of the official craft. Cooperation is the compass which will insure the safety of our municipal argosies from the stray winds of private interests on the new uncharted seas of Home Rule.

Community needs and official acts are inter-dependent. They must be reflective of the other.

If the people would have their wishes interpreted, economically and efficiently, they must maintain a continuing interest in the administration of the government. “The inarticulate public” and “the voiceless masses” are flare-backs to the days when government was administered for the benefit of the favored few. An enlightened citizen interest, militantly expressed, is now in keeping with the trend of the times.

We are prepared to tell you over your own radio just exactly what is being done to make your city a better place to work in and to live in. Essential information as to the progress and problems of city government will be broadcasted. This will provide a fact basis upon which the people may found constructive criticism. That is what is needed and always welcome.

Send along your suggestions. Even if you think they are poor and insignificant, send them along. They will, at least, indicate civic interest. And civic interest is the most necessary fundamental for the progress and perpetuity of any government.

You are as free to write as the very air which carries these words to your home. Write us! Letters, you know, do bring brains and hearts together. If you close the doors of your lips or decline to give expression to your thoughts on pertinent municipal matters, we shall have to guess what is in your mind. And guess work is a very sandy foundation upon which to build any permanent structure.

Without the support and confidence of an enlightened citizenship, no administration can effectively discharge its full obligation to all the people. And an enlightened citizenship is one that appreciates its obligations as well as its privileges. I thank you.

________________________________

Thanks to the New York City Municipal Archives and archivist Alexandra Hilton for making a copy of Mayor Hylan’s original address available to us.

*Note: WNYC was not the first municipally owned radio station in the United States. That distinction goes to WRR in Dallas, Texas.

We are pleased to announce that we have begun preserving and providing access to crawls (snapshots) of the City’s website using Archive-It, a web application developed and managed by the Internet Archive. Archive-It uses an open-source crawler called Heritrix to crawl specific web content based on instructions provided by the user (in our case, that’s us), and the venerable Wayback Machine to provide access. Over time, the preserved crawls will show how the City’s website has changed in terms of content, look and feel.

vancouver.ca today

How it works

Each crawl directs Heritrix to one or more “seed” URLs, which you can think of as the starting points of the crawl. From each seed, Heritrix browses through all links and saves any content it encounters that falls within the scoping rules for the crawl. Crawled content is saved in the WARC file format, an ISO standard for storing web content.

City of Vancouver web content seed list

WARC files for download and in-house preservation

We are preserving the resulting WARC files in-house using our digital preservation system, Archivematica. However, the WARC format stores chunks of content somewhat arbitrarily, and providing meaningful access to the content of WARC files requires highly specialized software and expertise. That’s where the Archive-It service really shines – all crawled content can be viewed via the Wayback Machine, just as if you were browsing the live web. To get started, visit our City of Vancouver web content collection page and select which URL you would like to use as your access point.

Our Archive-It collection page

From there, you will see how many times the URL has been captured, and on which dates. Selecting a date will open the content in Wayback.

Capture date list

When you are viewing the content in Wayback, a handy banner will appear to show you the date and time of capture and remind you that you’re not looking at a current page!

Viewing a page in Wayback

How it doesn’t work

Search boxes and some drop-down navigation do not work in Wayback the way they do on the live web, and interactive content such as contact forms will not display. Instead, you will see a “Not in Archive” notice.

Part of the Archives’ pages on vancouver.ca. Note the missing contact form

Some content has been excluded from the crawl because the nature of the content – often a searchable calendar or complex database – creates what’s known as a “crawler trap.” A crawler trap causes the crawler to get stuck in an infinite loop as it attempts to try every possible combination of factors and save the result. Examples of crawler traps include the Park Board’s recreation calendar system and our very own database, searcharchives.vancouver.ca! For this reason, you won’t see this content in the crawls.

Another area of trouble for Heritrix is content that relies heavily on JavaScript in the underlying code (interested folks can read more about that here). We encountered this problem during test crawls, primarily with the part of the site where council minutes and agendas are posted. When you attempt to navigate to this content in Wayback, you will see the “Not in Archive” notice and be able to link to the URL in its current state on the live web.

“Not in Archive” notice, with links to the live web and the global Wayback Service

You can also discover crawled web content via our online database, searcharchives.vancouver.ca, and link to our Archive-It collection page from there.

External link to archive-it.org from file description in searcharchives.vancouver.ca

We welcome your feedback and questions about using Archive-It to access legacy web content. Happy browsing!

The bouncy beat of a synthesizer-driven tune, Island in Space, provides the incongruous opening music for this 1968 installment of the usually staid series Music and the Message. The guest is Jean-Jacques Perrey, electronic composer and fervent advocate for the then-new Moog Synthesizer as well as the Ondioline, one of the first electronic keyboards. Perrey, with his Inspector Clouseau accent and seemingly outrageous belief that electronically-generated sounds will provide the music of the future, is treated with good-humored condescension by the interviewer, who clearly regards him more as a curiosity than a harbinger of the 21’st century sonic landscape, the reason being perhaps that Perrey does not resemble one’s picture of the typical avant-garde composer producing inscrutable works that challenge the listener’s very concept of music. Instead his aim is to raise synthesized sounds “to the level of pop music.”

Asked about his training, Perrey describes a background in the “musique concrète” of the time, taking samples of seemingly “unmusical” sounds, making tape loops, converting, through filters and distortion, a car horn, say, into a “lion roaring.” “But then,” he disarmingly admits, “I realized it would be more fun…to make it more approachable to the public.” Looking towards the future, he predicts “a complete change in musical expression” as electronic sounds become “a part of life.” While the interviewer expresses skepticism, Perrey accurately perceives that “it has to happen.”

Jean-Jacques Perrey (1929-2016) may not be one of the best-known of the first wave of electronic composers but it is more likely that you have heard his music than that of his more famous contemporaries. His ubiquitous jingles are still used in television commercials, his more engaging “hooks” are sampled by today’s rappers, and anyone who has visited a Disney theme park has likely heard his Baroque Hoedown during the Main Street Electrical Parade. As Perrey’s frequent collaborator Dana Countryman told Rolling Stone:

“For those who don’t realize it, Jean-Jacques first started recording electronic music in 1952, long before the Moog synthesizer was first made for sale in 1967. Relocating from Paris to New York City, JJ actually owned and recorded with the second Moog ever produced, and with his musical partner Gershon Kingsley, they released their first Moog album – almost two years before Wendy Carlos released her first Moog album. Jean-Jacques was truly the pioneer of popular electronic music.”

Perrey straddled that fascinating line between willfully obscure Bohemianism and an almost deliberately vulgar pandering to a mass audience. Humor seems to have been the common element. In its obituary, the New York Times recounts how:

…his 1970 album, “Moog Indigo,” included one of his most daring adaptations, a version of “Flight of the Bumblebee,” which was pieced together from recordings of real bees. The pitches of their buzzing were shifted and arranged to recreate Rimsky-Korsakov’s familiar melody, a process that Mr. Perrey said took 46 hours.

It would be a mistake to dismiss such compositions as mere pranks. This interview shows Perrey envisioning with great prescience an auditory world that has since come to be. His subsequent work included film scores, commercials, and music for ballet, but also albums intended to help insomniacs sleep and other adventures in ambient sound which pre-figure the aesthetic of Brian Eno and Terry Riley. His music has been featured on South Park, The Simpsons, and saluted by The Beastie Boys. Yet Perrey can also be seen as very much exemplifying his time: the boundless optimism of Sixties, when the notion of fusing serious artistic exploration with commercial success and broad public appeal did not seem as fraught with danger or essentially contradictory as it perhaps does today. Richie Unterberger, writing for allmusic.com, contends:

 …his work was never intended to be part of the avant-garde, as Perrey himself cheerfully declared in his liner notes. His goal was to popularize electronic music by deploying it in happy, simple tunes and arrangements. That’s why his music falls far closer to easy listening/space age pop than any sort of cutting edge — and that is also why his music sounds more cheesily nostalgic than futuristic.

But of course the very feelings summed up by the word “futuristic” could be seen as yet another branch of nostalgia. Perrey, in this interview, very sweetly embodies both the strangeness of the new and a comforting assurance that what is good will remain.

Audio courtesy of the NYC Municipal Archives WNYC Collection.

WNYC archives id: 150971Municipal archives id: T4399

To celebrate the occasion of the first Stirling Marathon which takes place on Sunday 21st May our Exhibitions Assistant, Ian Mackintosh, writes about one of Scotland’s greatest marathon runner’s contribution to Commonwealth Games history.

Jim Alder is without doubt one of the greatest distance runners in the history of Scottish Athletics. Jim competed in the 1966 and 1970 Commonwealth Games and also represented Great Britain at the 1968 and 1972 Olympic Games. Jim collected a complete set of medals at the Commonwealth Games winning gold in the marathon and bronze in the six mile race in Kingston in 1966, and silver in the marathon in Edinburgh in 1970. Another of Jim’s claims to fame is that he was involved in all three Queen’s Baton Relays when Scotland hosted the Games (in 1970, 1986 and 2014).

Jim Alder returns from Kingston, Jamaica, with his marathon gold and six-mile race bronze medals.

Edinburgh 1970

Jim’s first involvement with the Baton Relay came at the opening ceremony of the 1970 British Commonwealth Games where he had the honour of bringing the baton into Meadowbank Stadium and presenting it to Prince Philip. Jim recalled the day in a recent interview for the Commonwealth Games Scotland Archive:

“I was captain of the Scottish Cross Country Team and a Gold Medallist for the Marathon at the last games. I got a letter from the Scottish Amateur Athletics Association asking me if I would be interested in taking part in the Baton Relay in Edinburgh. I replied that I was honoured to take part. They asked me to keep it secret and not to let my family know because I was to be the involved in the last leg of the relay in Edinburgh. I received a phone call a few days later during which they then told me that I would be carrying the baton into the stadium to hand it over to Prince Philip.

I was also given specific instructions as to what I was to wear. I was to wear my Scotland Vest a pair of white shorts and a pair of plain white canvas shoes. On no account was there to be any branding. At the time Adidas were my running shoe sponsors and they provided me with all of my gear. So I had to go out and buy a pair of shorts and shoes for which I was reimbursed. My wife and family were in the top stadium waiting on the teams coming in and when the Scotland team appeared I wasn’t in the team. She turned to her dad and our son and said yer dad is late again he’s missed the team. You see I had a reputation for being late. It was then that I made my entrance and it was flashed up on the scoreboard that the mystery Baton Relay runner was Jim Alder. It was great running round the track. The roar of the crowd was amazing. They were clapping and cheering and of course I knew most of the other British team’s athletes and they were cheering me on. It brought a lump to my throat and I was very emotional when I handed over the baton to Prince Philip. It was a fabulous occasion and when I handed the baton over to Prince Philip he asked if I had run all the way with the message.”

Jim Alder hands the Queens Baton to Prince Philip at Meadowbank Stadium, Edinburgh, 16 July 1970

Edinburgh 1986

In 1986 Jim was asked if he would like the honour of carrying the baton over the border into Scotland during the relay. Recalling the day Jim noted that:

“I was advised to be in Coldstream for midmorning and I was met by the committee. This was a very different occasion [from 1970] because my role was to carry the baton over the border and hand it over to someone at Coldstream. It was a less formal affair and I didn’t need to worry about what I wore. In fact I wasn’t even advised about what to wear so I decided I would wear my 1970 Scotland Uniform which still fitted me. I was still a serious runner back then and I maintained my weight well. I was still competing regularly in Cross Country, Road Races and Marathons. I was really happy to be involved in the baton relay once again and I never thought I would ever be involved in it again.”

Glasgow 2014

In 2014 Jim had the honour of being part of the final stages of the baton relay on the opening day of the Glasgow Commonwealth Games. At an event in Scotland House (The Old Fruitmarket in Glasgow) he presented the baton to Prince Imran, Chairman of the Commonwealth Games Federation. For Jim “it was a great day, because it was an opportunity be in my hometown and the reception I received showed that people hadn’t forgotten what I had achieved nearly 40 years before.”

Our exhibition Hosts and Champions: Scotland in the Commonwealth Games was also officially opened that day and we were present to witness Jim’s contribution to the day’s events. After the ceremony was completed, we met Jim and chatted to him about his career. Jim was very interested in our exhibition and was delighted when he saw that we had featured him in the display. The exhibition included a photograph of Jim taken shortly after he had won his silver medal in the 1970 marathon. The photograph was titled “A helping hand”. Jim was delighted to see the picture and was more than happy to chat with us about the race. He spoke fondly of his great friend and rival Ron Hill and highlighted the fact that five of the fastest Marathon runners in the world were competing in the race. For Jim “it has been a great privilege to be asked to take part in all three Commonwealth Games Relays and the fact that I was involved in the 2012 Olympic Torch Relay completes a unique set for me.”

Jim Alder with his photograph from the 1970 Commonwealth Games which features in our Hosts and Champions exhibition.

‘A helping hand.’ Jim Alder crosses the line to win silver in the marathon at the 1970 Commonwealth Games.

To celebrate the occasion of the first Stirling Marathon which takes place on Sunday 21st May our Exhibitions Assistant, Ian Mackintosh, writes about one of Scotland’s greatest marathon runner’s contribution to Commonwealth Games history.

Jim Alder is without doubt one of the greatest distance runners in the history of Scottish Athletics. Jim competed in the 1966 and 1970 Commonwealth Games and also represented Great Britain at the 1968 and 1972 Olympic Games. Jim collected a complete set of medals at the Commonwealth Games winning gold in the marathon and bronze in the six mile race in Kingston in 1966, and silver in the marathon in Edinburgh in 1970. Another of Jim’s claims to fame is that he was involved in all three Queen’s Baton Relays when Scotland hosted the Games (in 1970, 1986 and 2014).

Jim Alder returns from Kingston, Jamaica, with his marathon gold and six-mile race bronze medals.

Edinburgh 1970

Jim’s first involvement with the Baton Relay came at the opening ceremony of the 1970 British Commonwealth Games where he had the honour of bringing the baton into Meadowbank Stadium and presenting it to Prince Philip. Jim recalled the day in a recent interview for the Commonwealth Games Scotland Archive:

“I was captain of the Scottish Cross Country Team and a Gold Medallist for the Marathon at the last games. I got a letter from the Scottish Amateur Athletics Association asking me if I would be interested in taking part in the Baton Relay in Edinburgh. I replied that I was honoured to take part. They asked me to keep it secret and not to let my family know because I was to be the involved in the last leg of the relay in Edinburgh. I received a phone call a few days later during which they then told me that I would be carrying the baton into the stadium to hand it over to Prince Philip.

I was also given specific instructions as to what I was to wear. I was to wear my Scotland Vest a pair of white shorts and a pair of plain white canvas shoes. On no account was there to be any branding. At the time Adidas were my running shoe sponsors and they provided me with all of my gear. So I had to go out and buy a pair of shorts and shoes for which I was reimbursed. My wife and family were in the top stadium waiting on the teams coming in and when the Scotland team appeared I wasn’t in the team. She turned to her dad and our son and said yer dad is late again he’s missed the team. You see I had a reputation for being late. It was then that I made my entrance and it was flashed up on the scoreboard that the mystery Baton Relay runner was Jim Alder. It was great running round the track. The roar of the crowd was amazing. They were clapping and cheering and of course I knew most of the other British team’s athletes and they were cheering me on. It brought a lump to my throat and I was very emotional when I handed over the baton to Prince Philip. It was a fabulous occasion and when I handed the baton over to Prince Philip he asked if I had run all the way with the message.”

Jim Alder hands the Queens Baton to Prince Philip at Meadowbank Stadium, Edinburgh, 16 July 1970

Edinburgh 1986

In 1986 Jim was asked if he would like the honour of carrying the baton over the border into Scotland during the relay. Recalling the day Jim noted that:

“I was advised to be in Coldstream for midmorning and I was met by the committee. This was a very different occasion [from 1970] because my role was to carry the baton over the border and hand it over to someone at Coldstream. It was a less formal affair and I didn’t need to worry about what I wore. In fact I wasn’t even advised about what to wear so I decided I would wear my 1970 Scotland Uniform which still fitted me. I was still a serious runner back then and I maintained my weight well. I was still competing regularly in Cross Country, Road Races and Marathons. I was really happy to be involved in the baton relay once again and I never thought I would ever be involved in it again.”

Glasgow 2014

In 2014 Jim had the honour of being part of the final stages of the baton relay on the opening day of the Glasgow Commonwealth Games. At an event in Scotland House (The Old Fruitmarket in Glasgow) he presented the baton to Prince Imran, Chairman of the Commonwealth Games Federation. For Jim “it was a great day, because it was an opportunity be in my hometown and the reception I received showed that people hadn’t forgotten what I had achieved nearly 40 years before.”

Our exhibition Hosts and Champions: Scotland in the Commonwealth Games was also officially opened that day and we were present to witness Jim’s contribution to the day’s events. After the ceremony was completed, we met Jim and chatted to him about his career. Jim was very interested in our exhibition and was delighted when he saw that we had featured him in the display. The exhibition included a photograph of Jim taken shortly after he had won his silver medal in the 1970 marathon. The photograph was titled “A helping hand”. Jim was delighted to see the picture and was more than happy to chat with us about the race. He spoke fondly of his great friend and rival Ron Hill and highlighted the fact that five of the fastest Marathon runners in the world were competing in the race. For Jim “it has been a great privilege to be asked to take part in all three Commonwealth Games Relays and the fact that I was involved in the 2012 Olympic Torch Relay completes a unique set for me.”

Jim Alder with his photograph from the 1970 Commonwealth Games which features in our Hosts and Champions exhibition.

‘A helping hand.’ Jim Alder crosses the line to win silver in the marathon at the 1970 Commonwealth Games.