For those of you who are just tuning in, the Duke University Archives has entered into a friendly competition with our colleagues at the UNC University Archives. The challenge: whose Facebook page can get the most new “likes” by tip-off (7:00 PM) of the March 3rd UNC vs. Duke game. That’s Saturday night!
Our standings, as of noon today:
Duke University Archives: 371 new “likes” (446 total “likes”)
UNC University Archives: 749 new “likes” (794 total “likes”)
Uh-oh.
So ask your friends and your friends’ friends and your friends’ friends’ great-grandparents to “like” us on Facebook! The stakes are huge: the loser has to post a photo of the winner’s choosing (and from the winner’s collection) as their Facebook profile photo for one week. Do you really want to see a photo of Dean Smith (happy belated birthday, by the way!) on the Duke University Archives’ Facebook page?
We’re staying positive here at the Duke University Archives, though. We’d like to ask you, our stalwart and loyal fans, to help us pick the photo we’ll send over to the UNC University Archives Facebook page on Saturday. Below, you’ll find the contenders and a poll.
#1
Duke’s Blue Devil and UNC’s Ramses play nicely at a 1957 football game.
An Adorable Rivalry, 1957
#2
Duke president Terry Sanford (speaking at the podium) doesn’t look too pleased. Perhaps that’s because he received his bachelor’s degree from UNC?
Duke University Commencement, 1979
#3
Duke guard Steve Vacendak rises above his UNC rivals.
Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying About the Move and Obsess About Book Trucks.
When I started as Collections Move Coordinator, I knew it would be a challenging task involving inventories, spreadsheets, and endless logistics, as well as coordinating the work of students, colleagues, and staff in other departments. What I had not counted on was the number of supplies we would need to gather to complete the move. I spent my first two months on the job compiling opinions on carts, boxes, barcode scanners, shipping bins, and even post-it note color preferences (this was a particularly long discussion and search). I have become particularly obsessed with carts. There are so many different designs — so many ways to get your rare and unique materials from here to there and back again. But of course it takes more than just carts to move the Rubenstein Library. Below, please find a gallery of some of my favorite move supplies.
Code Name: “The Biscuit.” (Seriously, that’s what the manufacturer calls it.)
This height-adjustable table is truly the caddy of carts. It is ideal for reviewing collections in the stacks: narrow enough to fit between ranges of material and big enough to fit a laptop, barcode scanner, dust mask and measuring tape (I carry these with me at all times). The height-adjustable feature is amazing and keeps my colleagues and me from getting sore necks as a result of bending over our laptops.
Code Name: “Bubbles.”
It’s bubble wrap, people: lots and lots of bubble wrap.
Code Name: “Ol’ Reliable.”
These sturdy wooden carts are the friends of everyone in the library, and we treat them sort of like cattle. Each department brands them, protects them fiercely, and works hard to rustle them up when one gets separated from the herd. Also, it’s fun to think about librarians and archivists as cowboys and girls on the frontier, wrangling up books and historical materials.
Code Name: “Fuchsia.”
When a manuscript box has been checked and is ready to move, we put a pink post-it note on it. This way everyone easily knows what collections have already been prepped and which need work. Plus, who doesn’t love a little extra color in the stacks!
Post contributed by Molly Bragg, Collections Move Coordinator.
In researching changes in the representation of female bodies in Northern Europe, I noticed that ivory manikins (meaning “little men,” though usually female) portray a changing trend away from the easily available prints of the female anatomy in the sixteenth century toward more formal depictions, displayed only for demonstration. Little is known about the manikins themselves in terms of their origins, but stylistic and material differences may provide much needed information in terms of who made these models and the ways in which they were used by others.
In my travels, I found that the History of Medicine Trent Collection’s set of anatomical ivories is one of Duke’s—and America’s—great treasures. Normally they are stored in a glass viewing case in the Trent Room, but looking closely at them, they hold much more than one might expect.
An ivory anatomical model carved into the lid of a hinged box
One object in particular caught me by surprise. It is a manikin carved meticulously into the lid of an ivory box. It is not a unique example, as it is quite similar to other objects—one in the Trent Collection and the other in Dusseldorf. Opening the box is precarious because, as with the other manikins, the torso is easily removed (though, luckily, the individually carved organs have been glued down).
The model open, showing individually carved ivory pieces inside.
The manikin itself, however, is only one of the object’s curious features. When the lid is lifted, an exquisitely small painting is revealed on its underside.
The underside of the box’s lid, showing an image. The paint is chipped in the corner and around two wooden pieces that act as sockets for the ivory pegs securing the torso.
In this strange scene a nude woman and a well-clothed gentleman dine unabashedly before an open plaza where others go about their normal errands. The presumed courtesan shares many similarities with her counterpart on the box, who is likewise unclothed and recumbent, clutching a sheet with her left hand. Figures of this kind are often seen in artisanal ivory works, but this particular object invokes intriguing questions as to how the fine arts relate to the anatomical sciences and historical representations of women.
Post contributed by Cali Buckley, Ph.D. Candidate, Department of Art History, Penn State University
When I began processing the Charles N. Hunter Papers, I had just completed my work on the N.C. Mutual Collection, which was full of incredible material concerning Durham’s Black business community throughout the 1900s. The Hunter papers constituted a much smaller collection and, as such, I was not prepared to find such a rich and varied amount of information regarding a time period (mainly 1870s-1930s) that is often under-explored and underrepresented in general historical accounts of African Americans in the United States.
The collection paints a broad picture of the evolution of race relations and racial thought during Hunter’s lifetime, including a change in the tone of his beliefs concerning the best way for Blacks to seek equality and dignity within the United States (a change which appears to coincide with increasingly strained race relations in the 1920s). Given Hunter’s extensive experience as an educator in North Carolina, the collection also provides unique insights into the daily workings of the education system for Black children in the post-war, rural South. Additionally, Hunter’s extensive personal correspondence can be found intermingled with the amazing sociological and historical perspectives that are present within his business and community papers. The placement of his personal triumphs and tragedies amidst his professional and community commitments gives his papers a uniquely human dimension. In examining the collection, it was personally difficult for me to see so many personal family tragedies unfold in what seemed like a short period; however, this allowed me to connect with the Hunter by way of seeing the relationship between his public and private life.
The bark from a Birch tree, collected and used as writing paper.
Within the Hunter papers, there are a wide variety of interesting artifacts, some of which include: a letter from a friend written on Birchbark (an amazing piece that is now quite thin and fragile); letters that provide greater elucidation of the daily business aspects of the operation of NC Mutual during the early 1900s; Hunter’s affectionate correspondence with the Haywood family, which owned his family prior to emancipation; and a blank 1850s “Slave Application” for the N.C. Mutual Life Insurance Company of Raleigh.
An application for an insurance policy covering a slave, 1850s.
The latter company is one that was distinct from the N.C. Mutual that began its operations in Durham just before the turn of the 20th century, and the history of the Raleigh company is largely unknown or forgotten. In addition to offering general life and property insurance, N.C. Mutual of Raleigh also allowed slave owners to take out policies covering their slaves for a limited number of years. It is unclear how or when Hunter came by this form, but the presence of this document within the collection brings forth the great irony of both a pre-Civil War N.C. Mutual that insured the lives of slaves and a completely separate post-Civil War N.C. Mutual that was created, owned, and operated solely by former slaves and the children of former slaves.
Post contributed by Jessica Carew, a Ph.D. candidate in the Political Science Department at Duke University and an intern in the John Hope Franklin Research Center for African and African American History and Culture.
Now a celebration to honor the office of the president of the United States, President’s Day was originally a celebration of George Washington’s birthday; Washington, the hero of the War for Independence and our nascent republic’s first president. An equally familiar image of Washington is the boy who could not tell his father a lie. Familiar to all, but what are the origins of this universally known presidential anecdote?
Weems' Life of George Washington
In the Early American Republic no public figure was more universally revered than George Washington. Shortly after his death in 1799 M.L.(Parson) Weems wrote a small, single-volume biography of Washington, The Life of George Washington: with curious anecdotes, equally honorable to himself, and exemplary to his young countryman. Focused primarily on the young Washington, the book was an effort to humanize a public man for mass consumption and provide an instructive model of virtuous behavior.
Portrait from Weems' Life of George Washington
Among the many colorful vignettes from Weems’s Life is the story of a young Washington, hatchet in hand, unable to lie when confronted by his father over a felled cherry tree. Weems attributed the story to an “aged lady” who spent time on the Washington family farm.
Parson Weems' Fable, by Grant Wood
Despite criticism from contemporary gentlemen such as John Adams and Chief Justice John Marshall (who, perhaps not coincidentally, wrote his own 5-volume biography of Washington) the book was immensely popular. A New York Times best-seller of its day, it went through 29 editions in its first 25 years of publication.
Live virtuously this President’s Day!
Post contributed by Joshua Larkin Rowley, Research Services Coordinator.
A few months ago, I processed the James Ludovic Lindsay Collection of French Manuscripts, which is by far the largest collection I have processed since I started working in Technical Services in October. As a freshman, I was incredibly excited to work on this collection. The collection is composed of 223 items, mostly letters and administrative papers, all dating to the French Revolutionary era (late 18th and early 19th century). Though the collection may not seem extremely appealing, unless you are an administrative papers-type person, it did have a few gems that are worth noting.
Let me begin with a little background on the collection. The collection was assembled by James Ludovic Lindsay, the 26th Earl of Crawford, and formed part of the larger “Bibliotheca Lindesiana,” a sizeable private library that Lindsay inherited from his father, Alexander, in the mid-1800s. Like his father, Lindsay had a passion for French Revolutionary writings. While Duke does not hold Lindsay’s entire collection (it was auctioned to many different entities), we have acquired a few items that are quite unique.
Processing the Lindsay Collection of French Manuscripts
For example, scattered amongst mostly legal and administrative papers, I discovered a letter addressed to the Emperor Napoleon from a lawyer, Arnoud Joubert. The document was in perfect state, with no visible damage at all. I was most surprised by Joubert’s writing style (we also possess other letters from him). One would think that writing to an Emperor, especially once the monarchy had fallen, would require extreme politeness. However, Joubert did not make an extra effort towards Napoleon. This document, Box 3, Folder 160, made me wonder if there were other items of interest in the collection.
One such letter, from Cardinal Albani addressed to Alexander I, Emperor of Russia, requests the Emperor’s protection from French authorities. What is most interesting about this letter is that it is well-known that Alexander I and Napoleon had a tense relationship, and that Alexander often referred to Napoleon as “the oppressor of Europe and the disturber of the world’s peace.” This just shows that despite the fall of the monarchy, which hypothetically should have lessened tensions in France, and pleased most French citizens, certain individuals still searched for asylum in other foreign countries.
Another thing that I was not prepared for was how the documents were dated. Many of them used the old French Republican calendar. Unlike our Gregorian calendar, this calendar began with the fall of the French Republic in 1789, which was then renamed Year I. For a little over 12 years, this calendar replaced the commonly used Gregorian calendar in France.
Processing this collection definitely improved my knowledge of older French, and I am confident I can now read any sort of handwriting. Some of the pieces were near illegible, and it was sometimes difficult to decipher what was being said. But do not worry: if you ever have to write a paper on this period, or even if you are just curious about old French manuscripts, you should take a look at these documents.
Post contributed by Sophia Durand, Technical Services student assistant and Trinity ’15.
Date: Monday, February 20, 2012 Time: 6:00-7:30 PM Location: Biddle Rare Book Room Contact Information: Karen Glynn, 919-660-5968 or karen.glynn@duke.edu
Gary Monroe will present a retrospective of his work and talk about his life as a photographer at this upcoming event on the Duke University campus. Among the generation of young men and women influenced by Cartier-Bresson and Garry Winogrand, Monroe’s work includes long-term, continuous documentation of people and places as well as “decisive moment” images captured on the fly.
Protesters with large sign, Les Gonaïves, Haiti, 1986
Monroe describes the body of his photographic work on his website as, “Film-based black-and-white documentary photographs of images from South Beach, Miami, New York City, and from around the world—Haiti, Cuba, Brazil, Spain, England, India, Poland, Egypt, Israel, and the Caribbean, as well as photographs of Disney World tourists, Holy Ghost revival participants, roller derby contenders, sex offenders, mentally ill individuals, blind people, and corporate-driven architecture.”
Cairo, Egypt, 2010
Duke University’s Rubenstein Library Archive of Documentary Arts holds a selection of Monroe’s early Haiti photographs dating from 1980–1998; to view the selection, click here.
Gary Monroe is a professor of art at the Southeast Center for Photographic Studies in Daytona Beach, Florida. For more information on Gary Monroe’s work, visit his websites: www.garymonroe.net www.floridafolkart.net
While this Valentine’s Day might result in many short love notes being traded via smartphones and Facebook walls, sweethearts sometimes used a different method in the early 20th century: the telegram. Ella Fountain Keesler Pratt, a Duke employee for almost thirty years (1956-1984), was the recipient of several sugar-coated missives delivered by Western Union in the 1930s. These are a few of the loveliest love letters, found while processing Ella’s papers.
Duke begged, "Please give me a few dates ... Don't leave town if you do I'm coming after you.""Want date Sunday night No answer means Yes Love, Frank."A secret admirer rhymed, "Than my skeeter none is sweeter if she'd only write.""Incidentally I Love You," signs Lanny.
Ms. Pratt eventually married Lanier “Lanny” Pratt in 1938; he attended graduate classes and then taught at Duke University until his death in 1956. He must have said something right!
Post contributed by Rosemary K. J. Davis, Drill Intern, University Archives.
On April 17, 1909, Frederick Augustus Grant Cowper married Mary Octavine Thompson. Frederick became Professor of Romance Languages at Trinity College (now Duke University), while Mary (who earned a Ph.D. in Sociology at the University of Chicago) became a suffragette, helping to organize the North Carolina League of Women Voters in 1920. Both Frederick’s and Mary’s papers reside in the Rubenstein Library.
The Cowpers' honeymoon scrapbook, with flowers picked by Mary
While on their honeymoon in New Hampshire, the Cowpers took many photographs they placed in an album they titled “Photographs of their Wedding Journey.” In honor of Valentine’s Day, here is my favorite photograph and caption:
The Cowpers' honeymoon scrapbook, asking "How'd you like to spoon with me on Mt. Gardner?"
Post contributed by Kim Sims, Technical Services Archivist for Duke University Archives.
Dispatches from the David M. Rubenstein Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Duke University
