vtspecblogger Aviation, Just for Fun, Local/Regional History, University History

Not Every University Has One of These. . . .

It’s graduation weekend and maybe you’d expect us to serve up some nice photographs of past graduations, the whole pomp and circumstance thing. Well, certainly congratulations to the graduates!!! But, no, we’ll have no old caps and gowns this time. No historic commencement addresses. Not this year. After being in Washington, D.C. this past weekend, I was reminded of a small part of Virginia Tech historyMontgomery County history, reallythat just might offer some bragging rights to graduates and alumni alike. Of course, some might shrink from this decades-old bit of business, but I get that, too.

Look around this campus and you’ll see the Virginia Tech name and/or logo on many different kinds of objects. Banners, posters, rings, flyers, diplomas(!), buildings, and signs just to mention a few. But how many universities have had their name emblazoned on a Boeing B-29 Superfortress? That’s right, 99 ft. long, a wingspan of 141 ft 3 in, and a top speed of 365 mph . . . and “Virginia Tech” written right across the nose. How did this come about?

B-29 "Virginia Tech" from The Techgram, 15 August 1945
B-29 “Virginia Tech” from The Techgram, 15 August 1945

VT_B-29_Image2

 

 

 

In May 1944, The Techgram, a V.P.I. publication, ran its first announcement for a war bond drive that, if successful, would result in a B-29 named “Virginia Tech.” This effort was administered by the war bond committee of Montgomery County. It ran from 12 June to 8 July and was part of the fifth nationwide War Loan Drive. Over $500,000 in Series E bonds would have to be sold in or attributed to Montgomery County for the drive to be successful. (That’s nearly $7 million in today’s money!) The article also claimed that if the required total was reached, an attempt would be made to have the bomber’s crew be made up entirely of Tech graduates.

Techgram, 15 May 1944, announcing the war bond drive to name a B-29 "Virginia Tech."
Techgram, 15 May 1944, announcing the war bond drive to name a B-29 “Virginia Tech.”

By 8 July, the drive was still $75,000 short, but purchases reported through 31 July could still be credited towards the necessary total. An article in the 15 July issue of The Techgram reminded readers that purchases from folks outside of Montgomery Countyespecially from university alumscould be counted towards that figure. The 15 August edition announced, “Soon a bomber named “Virginia Tech” will be flying against enemies of the U.S.” The drive had been successful, though as later articles would announce, the plan to have only “Techmen” serve onboard the new airplane was not feisible.

Techgram, 1 October 1944
Techgram, 1 October 1944

The “Virginia Tech” (serial number 44-61529) arrived on Tinian in the Pacific at the end of May 1945 as part of the 45th Bombardment Squadron, 40th Bombardment Group, 58th Bomber Wing, 21st Bomber Command. First Lieutenant C. Thornesberry was listed as the airplane commander. “Virginia Tech” was first deployed on 7 June on a mission over Osaka, Japan. It flew eight missions over Japan that month, each lasting approximately 15 hours. It continued to fly with a variety of crews until the war ended following the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki on 6 and 9 August, respectively. (The only atomic bombs/nuclear weapons ever used during wartime were, of course, dropped by B-29s. That’s where the potential ambivalence comes in.) On 8 October 1945, “Virginia Tech” received orders to return to the States via Kwajalein to Mather Field, California. Under the command of Captain John Mewha, it arrived home sometime around 14 October and by the end of November 1945 was assigned to March Field in southern California.

Whether or not the “Virginia Tech” flew missions in Korea is unclear, at least to me. How long it kept its name is also unclear. In the post-war era, nose art and named designations for individual aircraft started to become less common than they had been during World War II. We know that when B-29 serial #44-61529 met its end in 1951, it was part of 22nd Bomb Group, 19th Bomb Squadron, a unit that did serve in Korea. We also know, according to US Air Force accident reports, that on 2 April 1951, while stationed at March Field and under the command of Captain Max G. Thaete, the B-29 formerly(?) known as “Virginia Tech” crashed in the California desert, about 20 miles ENE of Desert Center. An engine fire was reportedly the cause of the accident. No one onboard was seriously injured, but the airplane was damaged beyond repair.

Owosso Argus Press, 3 April 1951
Owosso Argus Press, 3 April 1951
St. Petersburg Times, 3 April 1951
St. Petersburg Times, 3 April 1951

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

So, the next time you speak with your friends from some other university and you’ve unaccountably run out of things to say about Virginia Tech, you can ask whether their school has an airplane of the type that brought World War II to a close named after it.

And if you’ve never seen a B-29, there is only one still in flying condition (named Fifi, by the way) and it flew over Washington, D.C. just last week to commemorate the 70th anniversary of V-E Day along with over 50 other WWII warbirds.

B-29 Over Washington, D.C., 8 May 2015
B-29 Over Washington, D.C., 8 May 2015

Or, if you’re just needing to see a photograph of a Virginia Tech graduation . . .

From the Col. Harry Temple Collection, Ms1988-039: Cadets in cap and gown at commencement - VPI
From the Col. Harry Temple Collection, Ms1988-039: Cadets in cap and gown at commencement – VPI

Congratulations!!

archivistkira About Special Collections and University Archives, Just for Fun

A Look Behind the Glass Door…

If you’ve visited Special Collections in the last 2 years, you’ve probably seen our reading room. (Although, if you were last here more than 2 years ago, the tables might have been a little different and if you were last here more than 8 years ago, we weren’t even in this space!)

Coincidentally, the space you can see into behind the open glass door is my office. So, now you know where to find me!

However, the reading room is really just the gateway to Special Collections’ secrets. So, this week, I took walk into the Rare Book Room and twoof our manuscript storage spaces with adigital camera.

Our historical photograph collection is in black acid-free boxes and is organized generally by topic. Beyond it, you can see some bound and boxed newspapers above and part of our collection of vertical files on university history.
Our historical photograph collection is in black acid-free boxes and is organized generally by topic. Beyond it, you can see some bound and boxed newspapers above and part of our collection of vertical files on university history below.
To be honest, manuscript collections means lots of boxes on shelves.
To be honest, manuscript collections means lots of boxes on shelves.
Seriously, I mean LOTS of boxes. In all kinds of sizes and shapes.
Seriously, I mean LOTS of boxes. In all kinds of sizes and shapes.
These boxes contain rolled architectural drawings from two large IAWA (International Archive of Women in Architecture) collections.
These boxes contain rolled architectural drawings from two large IAWA (International Archive of Women in Architecture) collections.

One of our on-going projects at the moment (well, two on-going projects, now, but more on that below), involves managing all these boxes (and books!). Until the last year or so, everything was on shelves where it fit and we relied on a printed shelf list and/or our archival management software to tell us where things are. However, in late 2013, we launched the first phrase of a major reorganization. Most of our manuscript collections are now in order by number on the shelf. We still have some more things to move, but at the moment, we’re working on creating space for additional shelves (meaning we need to move some map cases). IAWA materials are located on separate shelving and will probably be reorganized in the future. Other future phases will involve reordering record group materials (in a smaller room past the map cases below) and flat files in map cases like these:

Boxes on top of these map cases contain textiles (while will be moved to new shelving soon) and architectural models.
Boxes on top of these map cases contain textiles (which will be moved to new shelving soon) and architectural models.
These cases, like the others above, contain architectural drawings stored flat. We have map cases throughout the department that also house oversize manuscript materials, unframed art, and historical university items.
These cases, like the others above, contain architectural drawings stored flat. We have map cases throughout the department that also house oversize manuscript materials, unframed art, and historical university items.

Opposite the space where the manuscript collections are being put in number order is part of our Rare Book collection. (Some of it is also in an off-site library storage facility.)

Our rare books are shelved in call number order, but not all together. We have some shelved by size (so we can maximize available shelves) and others shelved by topic (like university publications and Civil War books).
Our rare books are shelved in call number order, but not all together. We have some shelved by size (so we can maximize available shelves) and others shelved by topic (like university publications and Civil War books). This photo shows a set of shelves containing “large” books, which for us means books over 28cm tall.
We also have a fun collection of boys adventure books, which have spines that make for nice images.
We also have a fun collection of boys adventure books, which have spines that make for nice images.

We are also in the process of shifting our book collection in order to fit in one more range of shelving. (Space is tight and we’re exceptionally good atacquiring new materials!) It’s a long process, but it will give us much-needed wiggle room. For us, managing materials is always an active process, whether it’s adding a single new boxor moving 1,800 manuscript collections and 35,000 books.

Of course, there’s lots more to see and this is only a sneak peek.If you do pay us a visit and want to see more, please ask! We’re more than happy to take you on a tour beyond the glass door at the end of the reading room and into the stacks. We LOVE to share Special Collections and you’ll probably see something you might not discover otherwise!

vtspecblogger Feature Items, Just for Fun

The great big world of miniature books

When I arrived in fall of 2014 as a new employee, the department had an exhibit on display featuring miniature books from the 19th and 20th centuries. It was a perfect introduction to the curious, strange, and unexpected variety of materials that I would come to find in Special Collections.

The Library of Congress defines miniature books as works 10 centimeters or less in both height and width, which is a little under 4 inches. The Miniature Book Society maintains a more circumscribed definition of no more than three inches in height, width, or thickness. Within these parameters, American collectors recognize several sub-categories, including macro-mini (3-4), miniature (2-3), micro-mini (1-2), and ultra-micro-mini (less than 1). Often intricately bound and printed, miniature books are considered a testimony to the printers skill.

Dew Drops Devotional, cover and text
One of our miniature books, an early 19th century devotional entitled Dew Drops, is about the size of a house key.

According to the American Antiquarian Society, the oldest miniature books were produced on clay tablets in Mesopotamia; scholars and monks from ancient Egypt to medieval Europe produced miniature manuscripts by hand long before the invention of the printing press. The Diurnale Mogantinum, published in 1468 by Johann Guttenbergs assistant Peter Schoffer, is the earliest example of a traditionally printed miniature book. The tiny texts became particularly fashionable in America during the 19th century as a portable and novel way to carry decorative and instructional texts. The most popular books in this time were religious tracts, advertisements, and childrens books.

ImitaciondeChristo
“Imitacin De Cristo.” This 1964 text, which measures a little under 3.5 inches long, is ornately bound in gilded leather.

Miniature books experienced a new wave of popularity in the 1970s as artists and independent publishers explored new methods for binding, printing, and distributing. Like their full-sized counterparts, modern miniature books are incredibly diverse in construction and purpose, ranging from plain and conventionally bound to elaborately illustrated pop ups, scrolls, and accordions.

IMG_20150205_124532
Maurice Sendaks Nutshell Library, a collection of children’s stories.

Although Special Collectionsdoes not collect tiny books on the scale of some passionate hobbyists, we have accumulated a limited but fascinating assortment of miniatures over the years. Highlights include an ornithology text published in 1810; several 19th and 20th century childrens books; a collection of Lincoln speeches reprinted in the mid 20th century; curios, art books, and poetry chapbooks by American micro-presses in the 1960s and 1970s; a handful of foreign language texts; and an edition of Five Articles by Chairman Mao Tse-Tung.

A simply but beautifully bound chapbook by master printing James Weil
Five Articles by Chairman Mao
Published in 1972 by Peking Foreign Languages Press, this edition is bound in red plastic.

We also have several tiny books about food, which you can read more about on Whats Cookin @Special Collections, the blog for our History of Food & Drink Collection. If you want to learn more about the history and making of miniature books, check out Louis Bondys Miniature books: their history from the beginnings to the present day available in the Newman Library and Peter Thomas More making books by hand: exploring miniature books, alternative structures, and found objects available in the Art + Architecture Library.

Bill Berkson "Ants" inside cover
1974 chapbook by acclaimed poet Bill Berkson, with illustration by “Yellow Submarin” animator Greg Irons.
jojacks2 About Special Collections and University Archives, Just for Fun, Pop Culture

The Hairy, Scary Things That Time Forgot!

So you think archival work is boring and routine, that nothing could be so harmless and mundane as arranging papers and then writing summary descriptions of them? Maybe you think the most frightening thing an archivist encounters in a typical workday is a misfiled folder or a paper cut. Well, let me tell you: a misfiled folder can be a pretty ominous thing, and as for paper cuts, hey, those things can get infected. And if you were to delve deep into the dark, quiet recesses of Special Collections, you might be shocked to find archivists with hands stained crimson (with red rot), their clothing torn (by sharp, rusty paperclips), and their minds shattered by a blinding stench (from decaying film negatives).

If none of these prospects strike you as particularly sinister, then also consider this: Archivists often spend a great part of their workday hanging out with dead people (no, Im not referring to other archivists). In arranging the personal papers of long-deceased individuals, we often come to know them pretty well, not only the bare facts of their lives, but their habits, their successes and failures, and their oddities. Truth be told, dead people can be pretty creepy sometimes, and when it comes to creepy, the Victorians, preoccupied as they were with mortality and the macabre, take the cake. These are the people, after all, who popularized the gothic novel, sances, so-called freak shows, and post-mortem photography. Several of our collections from that time period contain another creepy artifact of Victorian culture: the dreaded lock of hair keepsake.

Now of course a lock of hair seems a fairly innocuous thing and wouldnt normally be associated with creepiness, but when youre thumbing through the century-old account ledgers of a long-defunct livery stable, the lastwell, perhaps near to the lastthing you expect is for a big clump of hair to pop out at you. Thats exactly the shock we recently got, however, when reviewing the Warm Springs, Virginia Ledgers (Ms2014-003), a collection purchased earlier this year.

Though locks of hair continue to be clipped and kept as mementos, usually by parents who want a keepsake of their infant children, the sharing of a lock of hair between lovers as a symbol of devotion is a tradition that has largely fallen out of favor. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, however, it was a very common thing for a lover to request a lock of hair as a keepsake. Within the Frank C. Kitts Jr. Scrapbook (Ms2010-20), in fact, may be found small ringlets that Kitts, a native of Tazewell, Virginia, obtained from three different women, seemingly as a chronicle of his romantic conquests.

The scrapbook of Frank C. Kitts Jr., who perhaps considered himself something of a Lothario, contains locks of hair from three different women.
The scrapbook of Frank C. Kitts Jr., who perhaps considered himself something of a Lothario, contains locks of hair from three different women.

Locks of hair were also often kept as mementos of deceased loved ones. Such would seem to be the case with a small, loose bundle of reddish-blonde hair in the Vivian Coleman Bear Papers (Ms2009-086). The lock is accompanied by a poem titled “Despair,” clipped from a newspaper, which concludes, [I]n this world-weary bosom / is buried a sleepless pain.

The poem accompanying a lock of hair in the Bear Papers seems to have been written from the point of view of a woman mourning the loss of her fianc.
The poem accompanying a lock of hair in the Bear Papers seems to have been written from the point of view of a woman mourning the loss of her fianc.

The symbolic associations and physical qualities of hair gave rise to its use as a medium for artistic expression during the 19th century, and hairwork became a fashionable handicraft, with jewelry, accessories, and wall ornaments being meticulously fashioned from human hair. Unfortunately (well, fortunately, as far as Im concerned), we have no examples of hairwork in our collections. Most of the locks in our collections are simple affairs, either kept loose or bound with a small ribbon. Within the back of a Civil War-era diary found in the John D. Wagg Papers (Ms1992-048), however, may be found a rather fancily braided ringlet.

The intricate braid of this lock of hair found in the back pocket of a diary in the John D. Wagg Papers (Ms1992-048) suggests that it may have been intended for ornamental use.
The intricate braid of this lock of hair found in the back pocket of a diary maintained by John D. Wagg suggests that it may have been intended for ornamental use.

Within our collections from the Victorian era are many other locks of hair. The owners of these tresses are sometimes identified, but more often theyre not. And so were left today to wonder just who they were, these dead people with their clipped hair, and to be terrifiedokay, not terrified, but at least vaguely and mildly repulsedby the little pieces of themselves that they left behind.

vtspecblogger Just for Fun, Rare Books

Polar Expeditions, Part 2

An Arctic Boat Journey, in the Autumn of 1854 (1860)
by Isaac I. Hayes, Surgeon of the Second Grinnell Expedition

Cover of Hayes' An Arctic Boat Journey
Cover of Hayes’ An Arctic Boat Journey
Title page for Hayes's An Arctic Boat Journey
Title page for Hayes’s An Arctic Boat Journey

 
 
On 19 May 1845, John Franklin, an experienced Arctic explorer, led two ships and 128 men from England in search of the Northwest Passage. The last reported sighting of the ships occurred in July 1845. Between 1848 and 1859, some 30 expeditions were launched to search for the lost ships. Isaac Hayes took part in one of those efforts, one that is known as the Second Grinnell Expedition. Largely financed by shipping magnate Henry Grinnell, the brig Advance set out from New York on 30 May 1853 to succeed where his first attempt, launched in 1850, had failed. Though this first effort had located Franklins first wintering camp on Beechey Island off Greenland, it had not solved the mystery of Franklins disappearance.

Under command of Dr. Elisha Kent Kane, a veteran of Grinnells first expedition, the Advance, having spent one winter as planned in Rensselaer Harbor on the west coast of Greenland, was by August 1854, again icebound. With conditions deteriorating, Hayes and seven others, half of the surviving crew, set out for Upernavik, a Danish outpost, some 1300 miles to the south.

Chart of the Upper Limit of Baffin Bay, Illustrating an Arctic Boat Journey
Chart of the Upper Limit of Baffin Bay, Illustrating an Arctic Boat Journey

Hayess narrative is the story of a four-month journey that began with a departure from Advance on 23 August 1854 and ended, unsuccessful, nearly four months later on 12 December with a return to Advance.

The winter passed slowly away. Then spring returned, with its daylight, sunshine, and increased warmth; fresh food was obtained, chiefly form the natives; and with these aids, the people rallied. Gradually the gloom which had settled over us was dispelled. The carpenter hobbled out to repair the boats; and in proportion as our strength increased, preparations were carried on for the final abandonment of the vessel.

Despite having to spend a second winter in the ice, Kane led his crew to Upernavik after an 84-day trek over land and water that began on 20 May and ended on 8 August 1855. All but three of those who left Advance in May arrived in New York on 12 October.

Within a year Kane published Arctic Explorations: the Second Grinnell Expedition in Search of Sir John Franklin, leaving Hayes to tell the story of his own harrowing journey.

Kane died at age 37 in February 1857. Isaac Hayes would travel twice more to the Arctic.

Special Collections’ copy of Hayes’s book is the original 1860 edition published by Brown, Taggard, and Chase of Boston.

Embossed illustration from the book's cover
Embossed illustration from the book’s cover
vtspecblogger Just for Fun, Rare Books, Science and Engineering

The Ill-fated Voyage of the U.S.S. Jeannette, 1879-1881

Title page
Title page and frontispiece of The Voyage of the Jeannette with an engraving of George De Long and an image of the ship.

As I was scouting the bookshelves a few months ago in search of something to inspire a new exhibit, I came across two volumes of “The Voyage of the Jeannette: The Ship and Ice Journals of George W. De Long, Lieutenant-Commander U.S.N., and Commander of the Polar Expedition of 1879-1881. I was familiar with several 19th-century polar expeditions, particularly that of John Franklin, which left England in 1845, never to return, but De Long was unknown to me. In the end, I found first-hand accounts of many voyages of discovery, which led to the idea to assemble an exhibit on the themes of Discovery, Travel, and Exploration, but it was the Jeannette with which I began and whose story continues to enliven my curiosity.

When the U.S.S. Jeannette set out from San Francisco on 8 July 1879 with 33 men aboard, including its commander, George Washington De Long, its mission was to reach the supposed Open Polar Sea, attain the North Pole, and to record all manner of scientific observations along the way. Initially built as a gunboat for the British Navy and named Pandora, it had three masts and was equipped with a steam engine and propeller. The ship had passed into private hands and successfully survived two trips to Greenland before James Gordon Bennett Jr., owner of the New York Herald bought her, renamed her Jeannette, and had her structure massively reinforced, all in preparation for the polar mission that De Long would command. She would carry provisions to last three years.

The Jennette enters the ice.
The Jeannette enters the ice.

By 6 September of that year, the Jeannette was locked in the ice, sooner and further south than anticipated. Through disappointment and routine, mostly good spirits prevailed. On 28 October, De Long wrote:

I think the night one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. The heavens were cloudless, the moon very nearly full and shining brightly, and every star twinkling; the air perfectly calm, and not a sound to break the spell. The ship and her surroundings made a perfect picture. Standing out in bold relief against the blue sky, every rope and spar with a thick coat of snow and frost; she was simply a beautiful spectacle.

The Jeannette would drift in the ice in a northwesterly direction through the frozen summer of 1880 and into the spring of 1881. On 11 June–nearly two years after leaving San Francisco–just after midnight, as De Long wrote, the ice suddenly opened alongside and the ship righted to an even keel. For the first time in twenty months, the ship was afloat. Cruelly, some forty hours later the situation had changed:

At four P.M. the ice came down in great force all along the port side, jamming the ship hard against the ice on the starboard side of her, and causing her to heel 16 to starboard. From the snapping and cracking of the bunker sides and starting in of the starboard ceiling . . . it was feared that the ship was about to be seriously endangered. . . . Mr. Melville . . . saw a break across the ship . . . showing that so solidly were the stern and starboard quarters held by the ice that the ship was breaking in two from the pressure upward exerted on the port bow of the ship.. . . At five P.M. the pressure was renewed and continued with tremendous force, the ship cracking in every part. The spar deck commenced to buckle up, and the starboard side seemed again on the point of coming in.

The Jennette sinks, 11 June 1881.
The Jennette sinks, 11 June 1881.

By 6 PM. the Jeannette began to fill with water and as provisions were removed, the ship heeled 30 to starboard. The starboard side had broken in and at 8 PM all hands were ordered off the ship. At 4 AM, the ship went down. They had reached just beyond 77 N latitude, some 700 miles south of the pole, and would head southwest hauling their boats and equipment towards the Lena River on the Siberian coast.

Dragging the boats over the ice.
Dragging the boats over the ice.
Nindemann and Noros in search of help.
Nindemann and Noros in search of help.

Upon reaching open water 91 days later, the crew boarded three boats on 12 September. A gale separated the three and one boat was lost. De Longs boat, carrying 14 men, reached the marshy Lena delta on 15 September and would soon be abandoned. On 9 October, with the entire party suffering from starvation and exposure, a weakened De Long sent two men ahead in search of help. These two men, Nindemann and Noros, found a small group of hunter-fisherman on 22 October, who took them to the larger settlement they sought. The third boat, commanded by George Melville with eleven aboard, reached the delta on 14 September, nearly 100 miles from the first group, but on a navigable branch of the river. Five days later, they found a fishing camp. Neither Melvilles group nor Nindemann and Noros were able to mount a rescue for De Longs group, though on 2 November, they did find each other. George W. De Long, however, had written his last log entry on 30 October:

One hundred and fortieth day. Boyd and Grtz died during the night. Mr. Collins dying.

Melville continued the search for his comrades and on 13 November, he found the Jeannettes log books, instruments, and other items that De Long had buried on 19 September. It wasnt until the following spring, on 23 March 1882, that Melville and Nindemann found the bodies of De Long and two other members of his party, then those of the remaining seven. One mans body was never found. They also found the ice journal that De Long had kept and which recorded the journey they had taken since the Jeannette was lost. All ten bodies were placed in a makeshift coffin and interred in a cairn on the highest point in the area.

De Long's last entries.
De Long’s last entries.

George Melville arrived in New York on 13 September 1882 and brought De Longs papers, journals, and personal effects to his widow, Emma.

The cairn that temporarily held the bodies of De Long and nine of his men.
The cairn that temporarily held the bodies of De Long and nine of his men.

By Act of Congress, the remains of De Long and the nine crew were ordered returned for burial in the US. On 20 February 1884, after a 12,000 mile journey westward, they arrived in New York. De Long and six others were buried in Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx. On 18 June 1884 a broken box bearing the name Jeannette and other items from the ship were found off the southern coast of Greenland, thousands of miles east of Jeannettes final location. Having made their own journey, these items gave new support to the theory of trans-Arctic drift.

So, this was the story that was the spark for an exhibit that will soon go up, one that will present materials offering a range broader than that of polar exploration . . . but, interestingly, the Collection has several accounts of trips using various means to arrive at various poles. Watch for it:

jojacks2 About Special Collections and University Archives, Just for Fun

Hidden History at Special Collections II: The Harold B. Bailey Autograph Book

One of the great pleasures of working with manuscript collections is the discovery of the unexpected. When delving into a collection for the first time, one can never be sure just what surprises may be found. The Harold Balch Bailey autograph book, housed within the Bailey-Law Collection (Ms1982-002), is one such surprise.

The Bailey-Law Collection combines the papers of John Eugene Law and Harold E. Bailey (son of Harold Balch Bailey). Both men were accomplished ornithologists, though neither seems to have been formally educated in the subject. The collection contains ornithological field notes, subject files, printed materials, and photographs but is perhaps of more value for its many biographical files, assembled by Bailey, chronicling the lives and activities of other naturalists. Some of these files are extensive and contain correspondence and field notes of their subjects.

Given the collections focus on ornithology and naturalists, its a bit of a surprise to find ensconced here a small, fragile autograph book that has almost no connection to these two subjects. Assembled by the elder Bailey (himself a naturalist), the collection includes the autographs of more than 50 of the foremost personages of the 19th century. Gathered here are signatures of three (possibly four) U. S. presidents; several Union Army generals; no fewer than 14 governors; and well-known authors, artists, and musicians.

Unfortunately, as so often happened in early autograph-collecting, little value was placed on the source material. So, while some of the autographs are found on cards expressly made for the purpose, many others were clipped from documents. In fact, the autograph of John James Audubon is accompanied by a note from his granddaughter, explaining that the letter from which the signature was clipped had contained so many details of the familys home life that they couldnt bear to part with it. The Audubons had no qualms about mutilating the letter, however.

While these signatures have some artificial, market-driven value as objects and may be of general interest to some, most have negligible research value (except insofar as the collection as a whole tells us something about the collector). The context of some of the autographs, however, may be of some value to researchers. The signatures of poets Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. and William Deane Howells, for example, appear below handwritten bits of their poetry, and the signature of artist W. L. Champney appears on an ink drawing.

Elsewhere among the elder Baileys papers are three items relating to the Massachusetts militia. One of these documents, dated 1836, is signed by J. Q. Adams, presumably former president John Quincy Adams, serving at that time as a Massachusetts congressman. Like the autograph book, these items seem out of place within the collection; because of their association with Bailey, they remain in a file under his name.

Historically, archives and other repositories have been victimized by overly eager autograph-hounds. If youve ever visited Special Collections and wondered about some of the restrictions in the Reading Room, bear in mind that its our mission to protect the objects in our care. The security measures are in place to ensure the preservation of our shared history and allow future generations the thrill of discovery.

vtspecblogger Just for Fun, Pop Culture

Happy Hallowe’en

In honor of tonight’s ghoulish festivitieshere are some Special Collections selections featuring ghosts, witches, mysteries, the occult and paranormal. Take a look if you dare. Who knows you may find a last minute costume idea or a recipe for your haunted house.

vtspecblogger Just for Fun

Not an “Optick-al” Illusion: Rare Isaac Newton Text at VT

In 2007, Special Collections at Virginia Tech was graciously gifted a copy of Isaac Newtons Opticks or a Treatise of the Reflections, Refractions, Inflections and Colours of Light.

Title Page
Title Page from Opticks, or, A treatise of the reflections, refractions, inflections and colours of light by Sir Isaac Newton

 Opticks was Newton’s second major book on physical science and was first published in English in 1704, with a scholarly Latin translation following in 1706. The book analyzes the fundamental nature of light by means of the refraction of light with prisms and lenses, the diffraction of light by closely spaced sheets of glass, and the behavior of color mixtures with spectral lights or pigment powders.

 The publication of Opticks represented a major contribution to science, and was well received and hotly debated upon its release. Opticks is largely a record of experiments and the deductions made from them, covering a wide range of topics.  In the book Newton sets forth in full his experiments, first reported to the Royal Academy of London in 1672 on dispersion, or the separation of light into a spectrum of its component colors. He demonstrates how the appearance of color arises from selective absorption, reflection, or transmission of the various component parts of the incident light.

 The major significance of Newton’s work is that it overturned the dogma, attributed to Aristotle or Theophrastus and accepted by scholars in Newton’s time, that “pure” light (such as the light attributed to the Sun) is fundamentally white or colorless, and is altered into color by mixture with darkness caused by interactions with matter. Newton showed just the opposite was true: light is composed of different spectral hues, and all colors, including white, are formed by various mixtures of these hues.

Fold-out page with diagrams illustrating Newton’s experiments
A chart containing results of Newton’s tests
Opening page to Part I of the text

 

 The copy belonging to Special Collections is a 3rd edition of the text, printed in 1721 in London for William and John Innys and was the last edition produced during Newtons lifetime. This nearly 300 year old leather bound book is in excellent condition, even the fold-out pages containing diagrams of Newtons experiments.

 The gift was designated by the donors in honor of Matthew Charles Ziegler, Class of 2003. Since it is not recommended that modern materials such as bookplates and their glue be attached to such extraordinary and rare books, this information is noted in the bibliographic record. What a great way to commemorate a Hokie!

vtspecblogger International Archive of Women in Architecture (IAWA), Just for Fun

New Orleans prepare yourself for the archivist invasion

Mardi Gras Parade float
Mardi Gras Parade, New Orleans, Louisiana (LOC)
http://www.flickr.com/photos/library_of_congress/8385172346/

When I was a wee lass pondering my future I did what any bookish young person (pre-Google) would doI went to my local library. In this case, I went to my childhood library to interview the library director about careers in librarianship. This is the only tidbit I remember librarians love conferences.

Its true. Think about it for a moment. Librarians love information and learning new tricks of the trade and what better venue to do that in than an overly air-conditioned, poorly decorated hotel conference room in Indianapolis, Washington, D.C., or Anaheim.

Archivists also like their conferences and our big one is coming up in a few weeks. Yay, New Orleans in August! In honor of our soon to be host city I thought I would highlight some IAWA collections from the Crescent City.

One of the many institutions of higher learning in New Orleans is Tulane University. For 120 years (1886-2006) Newcomb College operated as a coordinate college of Tulane. Founded by Josephine Louise Newcombs desire to establish a college in memory of her daughter, Harriot Sophie, Newcomb College would in time flourish academically becoming by 1916 one of only seven southern schools to hold a standard college designation within the Southern Association of College Women. Two departments in particular garnered regional and even international admiration: the Department of Physical Education and the Newcomb Art School (1910-1945).

Jacobean Arm Chair, Fannie Magee Drawings, part of Ms2009-054 IAWA Small Collections.
Newcomb Studio, Fannie Magee Drawings, part of Ms2009-054 IAWA Small Collections.
Portrait of a Newcomb girl on a stool (1915), by Wanda Simmons, Newcomb College Drawings, part of Ms2009-054 IAWA Small Collections.

The Newcomb Art School offered an industrial art program featuring pottery, interior design, furniture making, and many other arts and crafts in an effort to educate women in the practical side of life, as well as, to provide employment opportunities for women when few existed. The IAWA has 16 original pencil drawings from students who attended the Newcomb Art School featuring drawings of furniture and interiors by Wanda Simmons and Fannie Magee.

Our next collection with a Big Easy connection is the Betty L. Moss Architectural Collection. Moss was an architect in New Orleans who opened her practice in the 1940s and continued until her death in 2007. A graduate of both Newcomb College and Tulane she was a proud New Orleans resident and an outspoken defender of building preservation and conservation. In October of 2005, a mere 2 months afterHurricane Katrina, she submitted designs for 3 + 4 bedroom prototype houses for the new New Orleans to city officials. These raised houses were designed to protect life and property and to fit the historic New Orleans lot sizes and aesthetic.

From Ms2008-071 Betty L. Moss Architectural Collection. Drawing of Moss’s proposed raised 3 bedroom prototype for Post Katrina New Orleans.
From Ms2008-071 Betty L. Moss Architectural Collection. Moss’s proposed integration of Harrah’s Casino into the exciting Rivergate structure.

Moss along with our third New Orleanian, Abbey Gorin, worked ardently to defend against the demolition of the Rivergate, a mid-20th century Expressionist structure that existed on Canal Street, where the main thoroughfare of the city meets the Mississippi River. The futuristic convention center designed by New Orleans architectural firm Nathaniel C. Curtis Jr. and Arthur Q. Davis lasted only 27 years before it was demolished in 1995 to make way for a Harrahs casino. Moss and Gorin wrote a six-minute film about the history and importance of the structure and it is present in Gorins collection.

Our conference hotel is just a mere 0.1 mile from Harrahs casino, and I would much rather see the undulating concrete roof line of the Rivergate, meant to mimic the Mississippi River, than the bright lights of Harrahs.

If anyone has any suggestions of what I should see and where I should eat in the City that Care Forgot please drop me a line in the comments section below.