Please join the Sallie Bingham Center for Women’s History and Culture for: ‘Particularly Remarkable for her Crime:’ Scholars’ Tea with Robin Robinson
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
2:00-3:00pm
Breedlove Room, Perkins Library, Duke University:
Landing certificate for Mary Holmes, 1749, at Port Oxford, MD, convicted in Denbighshire, Wales, 1748, for theft of a shirt
Robin Robinson, Associate Professor of Sociology/Crime and Justice Studies, University of Massachusetts at Dartmouth, will give a presentation about her research for her book ‘Particularly Remarkable for her Crime:’ Transportation and Transformation of Female Convicts as Unfree Labor in Colonial America, 1674-1776. Dr. Robinson is a recipient of a Mary Lily Research Grant from the Sallie Bingham Center for Women’s History and Culture.
First page from the Thomas F. Perry music collection, 1833, which features many Irish melodies.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day from the Rubenstein! Here are the “Irish Quick Step” and “St. Patrick’s Day in the Morning” to enhance your celebrations. These dances and more can be found in the Thomas F. Perry Music Collection, dating from about 1833.
Post contributed by Alice Poffinberger, Archivist/Original Cataloger in the Technical Services Dept.
For the past two years, I’ve been working with Technical Services on the Frank Baker Collection of British Methodism and Wesleyana. Baker, a religion professor at Duke, was the preeminent scholar on the foundations of Methodism, specifically its founder, John Wesley. The collection is vast: it contains research for Baker’s many books and articles, original Wesleyan and Methodist documents from the 18th and 19th centuries, teaching materials, correspondence with other prominent religious minds, and a variety of items that simply fit no category.
Perhaps the most interesting part of working with the Frank Baker collection is this treasure trove of miscellany collected by Baker throughout the years. Though primarily a Wesleyan scholar, Frank Baker had a penchant for all religious historical materials, and his collection is frequently peppered with unidentifiable portraits, letters, and notes relating to religion.
One such enigmatic finding was a folded, faded map that, at first, appeared rather unimpressive. Tucked away in a box of other large maps, our subject was folded, torn, and in pretty bad shape. Once unfolded, however, I was instantly drawn to it.
Chloe and a map from the Frank Baker Collection
Self-titled, the map reads: “A Map of all the Earth And how after the Flood it was Divided among the Sons of Noah.” Though faded, brittle, and torn, the value of this map is instantly obvious. From the fascinating religious motifs around the sides (some familiar, some indecipherable), to the labeling of each continent with a son’s name, the map certainly sucks you in.
"A Map of all the Earth And how after the Flood it was Divided among the Sons of Noah."
Some of my favorite parts of this map aren’t readily obvious, either. For example, take a good look at the West Coast of the United States. It’s subtle, but California is depicted as an island! It was actually this feature that helped me to date the map. With a little research as to when the name California came into usage, I discovered that our finding probably dates to the 1680s or 1690s. A little more research revealed that California was often depicted as an island in the 16th and 17th centuries: I even found a whole book full of maps with this cartographic error!
California as an island, with the Day of Rest above.
As a religion minor, I often found myself returning to the stunning religious motifs decorating the borders of this map. Some are familiar scenes, like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, the Tower of Babel, the Crucifixion, etc. Others are less familiar, such as a shining city as viewed from a hill, or an unidentified man kneeling next to a tree.
I could spend hours trying to figure out the motivations behind the map, or its motifs, or why Japhet, son of Noah, got all of North America, but there’s many more mysteries to find and catalog in the Frank Baker Papers!
Post contributed by Chloe Rockow, a junior majoring in Public Policy Studies with a double minor in Religion and Political Science.
According to Wikipedia, “finding aids are a concept dating back to ancient clay tablets.” While I certainly didn’t learn that factoid in library school, I suppose that if you’re writing on tablets, then you probably need a special tablet (a finding aid?) that tells you where you put all of the other tablets, right? Maybe…
Whatever their origins, finding aids are an important tool for locating material in archival collections and last month the Rubenstein Library’s online finding aids got a major facelift. We’ve brought them out of the Stone Age by completely overhauling the layout and introducing some new functionality. With these improvements, we hope our finding aids are more attractive and usable for both researchers and staff.
What box is my stuff in? Requesting the wrong box is frustrating. With new color coding, repeating box numbers, and other visual cues, it’s now easier to determine which container to request. Container numbers have been moved to the right-hand side of the page so as not to interfere with description.
Navigation Box now on all finding aids
Boring stuff moved to the bottom. Finding aid usability studies indicate that administrative information, subject headings, and lengthy biographical notes are infrequently used, so we’ve relocated those sections to the bottom of the finding aid, keeping the most useful information at the top.
Floating navigation box. A navigation box at the right of the screen stays with you as you scroll, making it easy to navigate to other sections in the finding aid wherever you are. You can’t outrun it. Don’t even try.
Search this finding aid! A search box in the finding aid navigation box lets you search for keywords in the text of any finding aid. It’s just like your browser’s “Ctrl F” function!
Series Quick Links. The “Series Quick links” feature in the navigation box activates a small pop-up in the bottom right of the screen for quickly navigating through different series in a collection. Works great with really large finding aids with many series.
Expanding / Collapsing. Now you can control how much detail you want! By default, finding aids display in their entirety, but click a series/subseries title to expand or collapse content of that series or subseries. Also, an experimental “Level of Detail” slider in the navigation box lets you control how much detail you want. Sometimes you just can’t get enough.
Link to catalog records: At the bottom of the navigation box you’ll find a small “catalog record” link that will take you directly to the catalog record for that collection, no questions asked.
More prominent links to digital collections. Finding aids describing collections with digitized content now feature an icon above the banner with a link to the corresponding digital collection. Example: http://library.duke.edu/rubenstein/findingaids/strykerdeena/
Finding aid for the Deena Stryker Photographs, with a link to the digital collection.
More prominent warnings for access restrictions. Look for the yellow boxes and yield icons.
Finding aids on the go! Using the principles of Responsive Web Design, we’ve redesigned finding aids to display appropriately on any size device—iPhone, iPad, IMAX, you name it. Just for kicks, open a finding aid in your browser, start narrowing the browser window, and watch the content adjust to fit.
Finding aids are now easily accessed by phone.
Take a moment and let us know what you think about our new finding aids site. We appreciate your feedback.
Post contributed by Noah Huffman, Archivist for Metadata and Encoding.
Perhaps I just run with the bibliophiles, but when I tell people I work in a library, they usually say, “You’re lucky, you get to read books all day!” For most of my colleagues this is probably not the case, but I am one of the fortunate few for whom it is true. I am responsible for cataloging small or single-volume collections. They generally arrive with little or no description, so I must read the material to some extent in order to provide access to it. I also train others to catalog these collections, and I urge them to verify any information accompanying a new acquisition. In particular, I ask them to confirm the sex of any journal or diary author. Those describing these items before they reach our library still tend to assume that creators are male rather than female. Here is a case in point.
"Journal of our Tour through Italy in the spring of 1861. (A faithful record of facts, impressions and memories.)"
According to the description provided to us, Rev. James Lee-Warner of Norfolk, England, was the author of this travel journal. I needed to confirm this. The wrinkle was that, although I’ve often deciphered 19th-century handwriting in both quill and pen, this hand was rather difficult to read. With a little persistence I was able to read passages, including the one that provided the confirmation I was seeking.
In the entry for Friday, March 15, the traveling party joined a crowd of 10,000 people waiting at St. Peter’s to see Pope Pius IX. The author noted that “[The pope] did not arrive punctually, so we had ample leisure to look round on the vast crowds…,” then went on to describe what happened later that day:
Pages of the diary, which sometimes include tiny albumen prints of artwork or tourist attractions.
In the afternoon we drove with the [W?]abryns to Santa Maria della Pace where the braid of my dress formed an attachment to a tin bucket full of water—and I found myself, unconscious of the impending disaster, calmly descending a flight of steps into the church. The graceful sweep of my dress gradually tightened as I descended, and in another moment with a terrific crash down came the unfortunate bucket [tolling?] down the steps into the church with a small cataract of water preceeding [sic] it and announcing to all the world the melancholy nature of the catastrophe. The Sacristan good-naturedly rushed to the rescue with a somewhat dilapidated broom and swept back the torrent with great promptitude.
I searched the journal and found no one else’s handwriting, so the volume’s sole author was a well-educated woman. Unfortunately, despite consulting entries for the Lee-Warner family and their relations in Burke’s Peerage and his Landed Gentry, I have not been able to identify her, although I am more certain that at least some members of the traveling party were Lee-Warners. To learn more about this journal and its content, visit our library’s catalog record.
Post contributed by Alice Poffinberger, Archivist/Original Cataloger in the Technical Services Dept.
Oreo celebrates its 100th birthday today, marking the anniversary of its introduction on March 6, 1912, by the National Biscuit Company (Nabisco). It went on to become the best-selling cookie in the United States during the 20th century. To commemorate the occasion, Nabisco, now owned by Kraft, has launched a new birthday-cake flavored Oreo and a website where you can share Oreo moments or send Oreo-grams.
1952 advertisement for Oreos
A hundred years of twisting and dipping the black and white cookie also means a hundred years of advertising Oreos to potential consumers. The Hartman Center for Sales, Advertising & Marketing History has a number of historic Oreo advertisements in its collections. The earliest print ads show Oreos alongside other Nabisco products, such as the Uneeda Biscuit and Lorna Doone Shortbread. These advertisements typically featured a young boy in a yellow raincoat. This character was developed by Philadelphia-based advertising agency N.W. Ayer & Son to highlight the effectiveness of Nabisco’s innovative moisture-proof packaging (called In-er-seal) in an era when other biscuits were packed by grocers in paper bags. Ads urged consumers to “look for the red seal.”
1923 advertisement for Oreos
Oreo has had several name variations during its long life. It entered the world as “Oreo Biscuit,” changed to “Oreo Sandwich” in 1921 and then to “Oreo Creme Sandwich” in 1948. Now it’s just “Oreo” and billed as “Milk’s Favorite Cookie.” Nabisco introduced Double Stuf Oreos in 1975 and the Fudge Covered Oreos (pictured, below right) in 1987, just in time for the cookie’s 75thbirthday. Now the brand is sold worldwide – you can even get Green Tea Oreos in China and Japan!
Post contributed by Liz Shesko, Reference Intern, Hartman Center for Sales, Advertising, and Marketing History.
1988 advertisement for Fudge-Covered OreosGrocer's promotional display for Oreos, ca. 1900-1930
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.
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.
Dispatches from the David M. Rubenstein Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Duke University
